#vaguely set during the seven-year-gap

[the-random-phan]

The fam goes christmas tree shopping!

[magicaldogtoto]

Thinking of the Magia Record stories focusing on Yachiyo and Mifuyu’s early years as Magical Girls and can’t help but wonder how different things must have been in terms of technology/culture.

PMMM/MR are really vague on the years they are set in (Oriko Magica shows a gravestone marked for the present and makes that present circa 2011, I.e. the original show’s air date, but later stuff throws that bit of canon into question, I think), but Yachiyo and Mifuyu start Arc One at around 19. That gives at least (from what I recall) a seven year gap since they first contracted.

For comparison, when I was 19 (2011), smartphones were common, but not everyone had them just yet (in fact, I don’t think everyone does now, either, but it’s definitely more commonplace). When I was 12 (2004), everyone still had flip phones, and iPods were just taking off. YouTube wouldn’t even be a thing until 2005, though I recall not actually using the site until 2006. Also, we still used floppy discs in middle school computer class, but I had a USB for personal use (my dad is a techie, so he’s always aware of new technology).

With that in mind, there’s a lot of ways that things around Yachiyo and Mifuyu could have changed. PMMM’s world always had a near-future look to it, and with the Magia Record anime being released in 2020, and not really trying to concretely say it was set in 2011 (when PMMM came out), the matter of the setting is even murkier. Yachiyo and Mifuyu’s childhood could have been anywhere from the early 2000s to the early 2010s, depending on how you look at it.

My personal headcanon is just to embrace the ambiguity of it all and just assume Yachiyo and Mifuyu’s childhood was some weird combination of the early 2000s and early 2010s. If I ever write any fics set during that time, that’s what I’d lean into…

[thesinglesjukebox]

BSS FT. LEE YOUNG JI - "FIGHTING"

A Seventeen sub-unit, sensibly submitted by Anna...

[5.93]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: The K-pop boy group ecosystem is wilting under the long shadow of BTS' influence, with a bumper crop of dudes trying to fill the market gap by hollering unmelodiously through overly conceptual, poorly-lit music videos. Seventeen are doing none of that -- instead making use of their we've-sold-a-truckload-of-records artistic freedom by releasing "Fighting," from the BSS subunit. This song has that very particular, K-pop-specific campiness I love so much -- not that surprising given they share a label with the sublimely campy Orange Caramel, but surprising when you consider that label is now majority-owned by HYBE, also parent company to BTS' own label, amongst other business dealings. BSS -- short for BooSeokSoon, a portmanteau of a syllable each from the three members' names -- had an initial run five years ago with the vaguely sports-themed "Just Do It," which is of a piece with "Fighting," a song about, uh, getting up in the morning and hyping yourself up for the day? These boys are here to sing for you! It's cheerful, it's kind of nonsense, it's melodic as all hell, and you really need to view the music video -- a charming set piece of juxtaposed scenarios (bedroom in a Starbucks, greenery-filled roundabout leading to a stock exchange, park bench in an airplane) -- for full effect. Lee Youngji turns in a charmingly husky guest verse, leavening all that chipperness despite being haunted at every turn by the relentlessly upbeat trio of Seungkwan, DK, and Hoshi. The boys turn in solid vocal performances all round with nary a hint of irony -- a vibe I find endlessly charming, though I'll be the first to admit this is an acquired taste for most folks. I have longed for this type of song. As is ever the case with Seventeen, "Fighting" was capably composed by group member Woozi. I think it's telling that in talking about this delightful song, I feel that it's necessary to speak on BTS so much, but such is their pervasive influence on the scene -- though perhaps that's soon to change, since as of today, all seven members of BTS are enlisted in the South Korean military. I had a whole segment here comparing HYBE to Sub Pop here, but I think I'd rather focus on "Fighting," honestly. It's great. It's all the reasons I got in to K-pop in the first place. I find it entertaining that HYBE bought Pledis to shore up their boy group stocks for BTS' enlistments, and ended up releasing this goofy thing. Who's influencing whom? [10]

Micha Cavaseno: Was joking with our beloved Ryo earlier in the week about how a friend might say "LOL why is this K-pop thing emulating this pop song from 10 years ago" to which I rejoined them with "Buddy, this might be them emulating a song that emulated a song that emulated that pop song." "Fighting," for example, feels like my beloved "Girl" by Block-B but long in the tooth; completely understandable given it's made by guys who debuted about a year or so after that aforementioned record dropped. Of course, there's some additions (Lee Youngji doing her confident cool girl Childish Gambino thing, a little bridge melody that accidentally reminds me of "A Little Bit of Luck") but I don't think there's a supreme need to remake the wheel when it comes to power-poppy boyband K-pop. Still, perhaps a few stronger pushes away from the standard bearer would mean I'd be more confident in the "Fighting Spirit." [5]

David Moore: If somehow this was released back in 2011 or 2012 and was my first exposure to K-pop, it would have been as effective an entry point to the music as anything else from that time was. But I've somehow gone from having a handle on K-pop to completely losing the plot to finally being excited by current songs that really wouldn't have made any sense at all during the early 10s crossover heyday. Which is to say that I only know what to do with this song ten years ago -- it's like being given a pop quiz that I probably knew the answers to in high school but now have no inkling how to respond. [6]

Oliver Maier: Broken Social Scene sounds different. [2]

Ian Mathers: Ridiculous. [8]

Michelle Myers: Despite its repetitive structure, "Fighting" is a great track because it achieves the optimal balance of fun and virtuosity. DK and Boo take turns wailing like it's 2012, and music shows still require live vocals. Youngji's agile rapping matches their energy. As for Hoshi, "Fighting" just wouldn't hit without his tenacious sincerity. The song is truly his. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: The piano riffing at the last pre chorus after Lee Youngji's excellent verse ("we're playing the crumpled up life like some down on his luck Beethoven"; great line) sounds so damn good. Shame the rest of the song is some soft rock/pop nothing burger. Woozi, Hoshi, s. Coups and Bumzu all share credit for this song, so which one of them chose to add a flattened drill bassline over the papery drums and added that riff? 'Cuz if they did that of their own volition, they chose to have those "Hey Mickey" facsimile drums take on the whole first verse and first pre chorus and be the bedrock of the main song, which I find baffling since it both isn't as vibrant or distinct. The lush piano motif and synth riff of the chorus are beautiful but they don't hit until that Lee Youngji verse, and the song suddenly sparks to life. But right after that it's back to the chorus, then the song just stops. Very baffling choices, made by 4 people. Hoshi's the dance choreographer, why didn't he redo the drums? Did Park Ki Tae, another composer who plays synthesizer and guitar put that riff in there because it might get thrown out? Sigh. [6]

Katherine St Asaph: Been a while since I've heard a boyband track with honest-to-god Radio Disney energy: competently produced yet still somehow janky, and charming for how unthreatening it is. [5]

Brad Shoup: I'm always wary of anything that sounds like spy music, especially boy-band spy music that's prepping me for austerity. [4]

Crystal Leww: Charming work from BSS and Lee Youngji in a year where boy groups in K-pop really felt like a whole lot of blah, but really feels more suited to a pep rally where everyone's a winner rather than something that actually creates hype. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Essentially an update on TROY's "Green Light" but with the hollow theatricality of a Mamamoo song, down to Lee Young Ji channeling her inner Moonbyul. This isn't smooth or silly enough in the way "Left & Right" was, so it lands closer to the miserable optimism of "Happy." They sing like they're being held at gunpoint, forced to smile. [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Relentlessly goofy in a good-natured way, like if an hour's worth of educational skits were jammed into three minutes of run. It's janky but it works -- moving through it all with a pace that implies cardio routines helps! [6]

Michael Hong: Corniness is deliberate of course, just not sure it helps their cause that Lee Youngji raps like she just finished helping a Youtuber with a skit. [5]

Alfred Soto: It has spritz, the wobbly synth bass I dig, and a lyric delivered if not with coherence then with clarity. [6]

Kayla Beardslee: I love Seventeen. They've been my most listened-to artist for two years in a row (and are on track for a third); I amnestied a song of theirs last year just because I wanted to have a chance to write about them for the Jukebox; seeing them in concert last September is genuinely one of my most treasured memories. I could write hundreds of words about what makes this song such a triumphant comeback for the gloriously goofy Booseoksoon subunit five years after their first release, and how I love seeing Seventeen return to what they do best, which is take the art of making people smile seriously. I might even delve into the excellent music video and choreo and how they support the motivational themes of the track (what an unlikely accomplishment it is for professional celebrities to pull off an ode to the everyday office worker without being patronizing!) while never sacrificing its fundamental sense of playfulness. There's an almost alchemical balance between levity and purpose in "Fighting" that only the greatest K-pop songs have ever achieved. I could dig into it, into the amount of times I danced along to "Fighting" in my office this year, into the general existence of Hoshi being Hoshi (and Seungkwan being Seungkwan, and DK being DK). But I think it's a testament to the brilliance of this song that my practically infinite thoughts about it can all be summed up in one simple sentence: This pop music shit is supposed to be fun! [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 11/11/2023 (Olivia Rodrigo, Jax Jones/D.O.D/Ina Wroldsen, The Kid LAROI)

Welp, with a ton of sales and some actually good streaming traction, the Beatles have done it. With their supposedly final single, they now have 18 #1s, the second most of anybody charting only second to Elvis. It’s their first #1 since 1969, “Now and Then” surging up to the top spot this week. So what about the rest? Well, welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

It should be no surprise that “Now and Then” hit #1. They sold 78,000 units - a lot of it being physical copies - which naturally stomps on the usual sales figures we get nowadays. They set all kinds of chart-span records, including gap between #1 singles, and whilst it’s far from the only story this week, it is pretty great to have a genuine chart moment much like the Christmas #1 where the average person may actually give a damn about the chart. Now that you’re interested, here’s what’s on the chart, our notable dropouts - songs exiting from the UK Top 75 after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week, we say farewell to all the Halloween-related re-entries and debuts - probably not worth listening here, just make five guesses and check last week’s episode, you’re probably correct - and then it’s just “ONE MORE TIME” by blink-182, “bad idea right?” by Olivia Rodrigo, “Bittersweet Goodbye” by Issey Cross and “Kill Bill” by SZA, it’s not exactly a week for big losses.

This is also one of those weeks where we do see resurgences of old songs, with “Bad Habits” by Ed Sheeran back at #74, as well as the return for “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls at #67. This is its first time in the top 75 since 2014, and it has a bit of a bizarre run in general. It charted at #50 on release, died almost immediately, came back the next year at #26 before soon drifting back away. With the introduction of digital sales and eventually streaming, however, “Iris” has won out, going in and out of the charts for 100+ weeks since 2006. It peaked at #3 after a performance on The X Factor in 2011 pushed its sales up, which meant it was competing with Sak Noel’s “Loca People” and Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger”. Elsewhere, we see gains for “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac at #61, “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi at #58, “As it Was” by Harry Styles at #57, “Another Love” by Tom Odell at #51 and the earliest defrosting of the Christmas hits ever, with “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey at #40 and “Last Christmas” by Wham! at #37. Therefore, Christmas rules need a reminder: I will not discuss Christmas gains past the top five unless they are entering the top 75 for the first time that year in that week. It means the rundowns get a lot less tedious during the holiday season.

To be fair, we have some more contemporary gains, like “MONEY ON THE DASH” by Elley Duhé and Whethan at #63, “Black Friday” by Tom Odell at #54, “Dance the Night” by Dua Lipa, “Would You (go to bed with me?)” by Campbell and Alcemist at #29, and “On My Love” by Zara Larsson and David Guetta at #22. Additionally, Jung Kook’s solo debut album GOLDEN debuts at #3 on the albums chart, thus we see gains for “3D” featuring Jack Harlow at #45 and a re-entry for “Seven” featuring Latto at #35, alongside a new single in the top 10 which we’ll talk about later, standing right next to Taylor Swift swapping out “Slut!” for “Cruel Summer” returning at #7, and speaking of the top 10…

The top five this week consists of “Water” by Tyla back up to #5 with Tate McRae’s “greedy” at #4, Taylor Swift’s “Is it Over Now?” holding on at #3, “Prada” by casso, RAYE and D-Block Europe at #2 and of course the Fab Four at the very top. Now for our pretty scarce but vaguely interesting batch of new songs, though I say the term “new” a bit loosely.

NEW ARRIVALS

#75 - “The Night We Met” - Lord Huron

Produced by Ben Schneider

Okay, so we have another weird chart run here. This song by California indie rock band Lord Huron was originally released in 2015 - which is soon, terrifyingly, near a decade ago - and did not make much noise until it was featured on the soundtrack to Selena Gomez-backed polarising Netflix show 13 Reasons Why in 2017, the year in which this song actually charted below the top 75 for a brief couple weeks. The year after, a remix featuring Phoebe Bridgers of boygenius was featured in the soundtrack for the show’s second season, and gave the song a bit of a third wind… and now it’s back for a fourth because God knows why, probably TikTok because the show is long cancelled. Thankfully this constant slow-burn of a chart run is for a song that is genuinely very good, going for a slightly retro-sounding guitar lick with the haunting doo-wop vocal lead-in, for a song about losing the spark and connection of a relationship and just desperately wanting to recapture - or honestly, escape - the initial moments. I wish the lead vocalist would really get into it a bit more as whilst his fried devastation is effective, I’d like to hear a real belt considering the desperate melodrama of these lyrics. It’s also not the bets co-ordinated-sounding chorus in the world, isn’t really that impactful, and the mix can feel a bit compressed, but as a song, the qualities are there, and I think it lacking a bridge or real climax is by design. It’s the closer of the album after all, and I’m not about to complain about something that could be corrected by listening to the full record. I prefer the Bridgers version, primarily because of how a female perspective in the second verse just touches a better note for me, I don’t exactly know why. It doesn’t make any major differences to the composition so either will work, and if it ends up sticking around, it’s far from the worst indie pop track to have lying around at the bottom of the charts. Isn’t that right, Vance Joy?

#66 - “Brilliant Mind” - Blanco

Produced by Jensmuller

We’ve seen UK rapper Blanco, specifically accompanied by Central Cee, and he didn’t make much of an impression then, though the song wasn’t bad. Here he is backed with what may be one of the best drill beats I’ve heard this year, if it counts as one, applying the rhythms to a club bounce and some African-influenced blocky percussion, as Zelda-sounding flutes ring off in the background and as soon as Blanco starts rapping, a warm sax joins the mix, adding a lot of richer potency to otherwise standard flexing and violence, though the rhyme schemes and flows are on point, and Blanco has a fantastic delivery to sell all of this. I find the lack of ad-libs for the most part really interesting too, it makes the song feel a lot more self-interested, inward-looking rather than flexing on the audience, where each thing he’s grateful for in his life has the added caveat of what should have happened or what eventually does happen to defy the purpose and meaning of it, like when his old gang friends hop the gated fence he has up. It’s a shame that the name of the song comes from a corny sex pun in the hook because there really is a lot to this one, and I think a better outro would seal it for me, but as this there’s still a lot of quality here, especially in the production and that frankly fantastic second verse, for me to call this a pretty excellent example of where British hip hop could be going. Check this out.

#41 - “BLEED” - The Kid LAROI

Produced by Billy Walsh, Omer Fedi, Blake Slatkin and The Kid LAROI

So The Mid LAROI has slowly been drip-feeding songs from the new album he just released this week, and whilst rap is still an influence, LAROI is moving further into the pop rock direction Post Malone kind of took, which makes complete sense for LAROI considering he is some kind of amalgamation of Posty, Bieber and Juice WRLD, with the only thing that really makes him all too recognisable being his hate-it-or-love-it voice. Now I love “WHAT JUST HAPPENED”, but that’s not the single that charted this week. Instead, we have “BLEED”, which just goes for a similar indie pop-influenced acoustic rock sound, except more familiar and laidback than what the other single went for. It’s not bad at all, even if LAROI’s rawer lead vocal take seems a tad detached from the backing harmonies. I do quite actually like that interplay - or more accurately counterplay - on the chorus, where LAROI’s vocal inflections seem particularly dejected when he’s not going for a half-rap angst. The soaring backdrop makes this a pretty solid track, even if perhaps a one-note one that doesn’t go for much more than the one cool trick it saves for the second verse, that being the fast-pace build-up with the distorted guitar and synth flutters sliding in, but it doesn’t lead up to all that great of a final chorus, especially since some of the extra layers are stuck in the back of the mix or only in the left channel. There’s a good song here, but it’s not really fully realised and I don’t think it’ll ever be a great one.

#28 - “Won’t Forget You” - Jax Jones, D.O.D and Ina Wroldsen featuring The Blackout Crew

Produced by Jax Jones, D.O.D and Mitch Jones

Part of me perhaps optimistically hopes that D.O.D will offset some of Jax Jones’ copy-and-paste house-pop genericism by a lot trying a little, and we have Ina Wroldsen - who you probably heard on Jones’ older hit “Breathe” - on the meaningless vocals, so it’s not exactly a good sign, but hey, it’s not awful. Wroldsen sounds frankly terrible but the Euro-trance revival is still in full effect and that slightly jerkier take on the beeping trance synths is actually a bit of a cool, different touch amidst the rest of the oddly drowned-out atmospherics that Wroldsen is mixed way over. It was probably D.O.D’s idea but that’s not important, it’s still there… but it loses its novelty past the first drop. It’s an earworm for sure, though and for whatever reason, the Official Charts Company credits “The Blackout Crew” here for the less-streamed “donk edit”, which is basically the song sped-up and with comical rapping over the drop. Welcome back, Blackout Crew, you haven’t charted since you “Put a Donk on It” in 2008, and you haven’t gotten any better in those 15 years, but it’s still… just delightful. In fact their style of comical EDM-rap they introduced with that classic novelty single is probably more influential than I’d like to admit nowadays. I’d like to see them collaborate with some of the people that clearly take influence from them, like Kak Hatt or, uh, the “give me some time, I’ll have that Rover” guy. Yeah, that would work.

#18 - “Can’t Catch Me Now” (from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes) - Olivia Rodrigo

Produced by Dan Nigro

Welp, there’s a new Hunger Games, and Lorde isn’t hip with the young-adult demographic anymore so guess who’s back? This seems to act as a semi-motivational semi-revenge track that makes many direct references - albeit through metaphors and imagery you could absolutely apply to, say, a breakup - to the film’s plot, or at least seems to. Rodrigo plays a powerful woman responding to mistreatment by just being everywhere and having whoever wronged her constantly reminded me of O-Rod, without them being able to “catch” her. It’s a cool idea for a song, but perhaps not an acoustic ballad? Rodrigo doesn’t feel like she’s signifying much power here, even if the acoustic guitars sound a lot richer this time around and the harmonies are pretty gorgeous as one would expect. For an acoustic Olivia Rodrigo ballad, it’s actually up there quality-wise, even if just for the swell and for the lack of annoying wordiness that is a bit of an O-Rod trademark at this point. The haunting strings do a pretty good job at feeling surrounding and particularly enclosing, giving a ghostly essence to the reverb and echo on Rodrigo’s “oohs” in the post-chorus. In fact, the bridge kind of seals it: her performance is fantastic, the initial hit is great, but then it repeats as a mantra, gaining swell but losing most of its steam. Unlike LAROI’s ballad from earlier, there IS a great song here, somewhere, but the structure of it - and perhaps my lack of connection of the franchise - doesn’t do it as many favours for me. I can see it growing on me or really being a fan favourite but for now, I just think it’s pretty good.

#6 - “Standing Next to You” - Jung Kook

Produced by watt and Cirkut

I’m still yet to be impressed by BTS solo work and whilst Jung Kook is somewhat close - he definitely has the charisma of a pop star - I feel like he ends up losing me just in the songs department, as they really end up being a competent version of a mostly competently-written song with a fun performance, and nothing more. They’re so fine-tuned and well-done it makes me forget that he was at some point a K-pop singer, and that’s definitely true for this one that just throws 80s synth funk grooves, harmonies and disjointed blasts of horns and bass at you, to convince that there’s some kind of bombast. But I’m honestly not convinced: it’s trying a lot, trying to make some kind of epic, but it doesn’t have a lot of the guts. One of the big lines in the chorus is “it’s deep like DNA” and the wham line it drops on is just a stuttered, kind of weakly-sold “take off”. There’s also just not a lot lyrically here at all, and I mean that in quite literal terms of how many unique words there are. It’s not bad, it’s just a nothing burger.

Conclusion

And sadly, on a decent week, that’s enough to get Worst of the Week. I probably have to clarify given it’s Jung Kook that I have absolutely nothing against the boys, just I’m not a fan of the song. I can’t sincerely give out a Dishonourable Mention so I’ll tie the Honourable Mention between “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron, specifically the version featuring Phoebe Bridgers, and Olivia Rodrigo for “Can’t Catch Me Now”, whilst Best of the Week goes to, surprisingly enough, Blanco for “Brilliant Mind”. I guess, keep it up, man. As for what’s on the horizon, we’ll be in festive season soon enough, but maybe PinkPantheress will give us something less confectionery to chew on in the interim? I don’t know. Regardless, thank you for reading and I’ll see you next week!

[iridescentoracle]

nyquildriver: lol also, does phoenix get told about this, or does klavier (understandably!) not mention the peggy suing, only to not take advantage of the fact that of everyone he could confide in, this one dude might be the most inclined to believe some weird magic shit happened to him

iridescentoracle: lmao i was thinking the latter, bc we know phoenix has reason to believe him but i'm not sure how well klavier knows

nyquildriver: also imagine the conversation on phoenix's end. magatama locks up the wazoo and probably for weird or unexpected topics nyquildriver: like I kind of get the feeling that most people don't actually believe in spirit channeling despite it being used in a freaking court of law so many times and all of these times must be documented

iridescentoracle: like, i firmly believe apollo has researched every case phoenix ever took In Depth. if court transcripts are available to the public he's gotten ahold of them. even if he didn't already know about spirit channeling and magatamas from growing up in khura'in he would know about them by the time he graduated law school from Researching Phoenix Wright reasons. but klavier i get the feeling didn't know much about phoenix beyond "he's a hotshot defense attorney who apparently forged evidence" before the gramarye trial, and while he might have done his research after the fact (during the seven-year gap or after 4-1) due to Discomfort and Suspicions i can as easily see him doing the avoidance thing instead, and i think if he hasn't Done Some Research he probably only vaguely knows about and doesn't really believe in spirit channeling, never mind magatamas iridescentoracle: like i don't have actual canon to cite either way but just like. based on vibes i don't think he knows about phoenix's experiences with magic shit, and if he does know i don't think he knows all the details and therefore i don't think he believes any of it iridescentoracle: and thus i think he works very hard to Not Let On That Some Weird Magic Shit Happened To Him because it's not like anyone would believe him if he did admit it, and if phoenix wright & company start thinking he's delusional/having a mental breakdown they won't listen to him so he won't be able to save them, and then he really will have the mental breakdown he's desperately staving off by Trying To Stop All The Bad Things From Happening, so he's gotta keep that under wraps iridescentoracle: (phoenix, eyeing this kid's psyche-locks that have popped up over a completely innocuous question for the fourth time in the last twenty minutes: ) iridescentoracle: tbh i'm honestly not sure how klavier recovers from the breakdown i think he probably definitely has after kristoph still gets found guilty of murdering zak gramarye (though i think, for Narrative Resonance with edgeworth's not-entirely-dissimilar Issues and also the pre-peggy sue version of events, he might well take at least a year off prosecuting to go be a rock star, but i don't think that's where his recovery from All That starts) but like. i do think it might involve phoenix finally poking at his psyche-locks iridescentoracle: bc i can see klavier honestly being pretty good at Not Letting On What His Deal is—he's had a whole seven years as a rock star and a year actively working as a prosecutor whose brother either framed someone else for murder or was framed for murder and outside the au where he's got a Secret Magical Lawyer Superpower of his own he probably wouldn't feel confident which until the misham trial—but he wouldn't be able to completely hide that he knows a little too much about what his brother's first set of plans were for someone who can't begin to guess what kristoph's backup plans would be, and if zak gramarye's death really did break him like i kind of feel like it might, i think he'd probably let a lot of clues slip in quick succession iridescentoracle: like. really though. tell me klavier wouldn't feel like the worst person ever over it. and by the worst person ever i mean specifically kristoph gavin, because isn't seeing zak gramarye's death as a convenient means to an end exactly what kristoph did, twice iridescentoracle: and i just don't think klavier in that state of mind would be particularly able to maintain his nonchalant celebrity façade!

nyquildriver: I'm imagining this highly dramatic conversation where phoenix maybe presses a little and klavier is just so overwhelmed by everything that like nyquildriver: he's covered in psyche-locks, right. just. way more than five. it's the weirdest thing phoenix has ever seen nyquildriver: and I imagine he like. asks a fairly benign question, the same kind of benign question that doesn't make sense to have a psyche-lock about, and klavier just crumbles nyquildriver: and all of them open all at once

iridescentoracle: ooooooh that's good iridescentoracle: i was thinking something slightly different but i think i like your version better. my thought was—phoenix presenting his attorney's badge to people is a running joke, right? the playthrough i watched never actually presented anything that wasn't strictly necessary to move forward but i know from memes that it's a Whole Thing iridescentoracle: so i was thinking it would be kind of fun if that was literally the solution here. klavier's got a crazy number of psyche-locks and says he can't explain what's up with him bc "you wouldn't believe me if i told you" and the correct response is presenting phoenix's badge bc that gets phoenix to say "…you don't know much about my career so far, huh" iridescentoracle: i don't know how you'd actually like, follow that with something that would make sense for him to say in a game, and i think anything else would kind of ruin the effect, so i didn't have it fully worked out in my head anyway, but that was the direction i'd been thinking in iridescentoracle: either way though like. yeah. whole bunch of psyche-locks that all come down at once and klavier finally spills the whole story iridescentoracle: lmao. klavier like "fuck it fine at this point it's not like it matters whether you think i'm crazy or not. i accidentally traveled in time" phoenix: huh. admittedly time travel is a new one on me but [john mulaney voice] my career's already been so goddamn weird,

like. okay. all indications are that despite this world having some types of magic that are real, the kinds of magic appear to be pretty specific (spirit channeling, viewing psyche-locks with a charged magatama, apollo & trucy's perception, etc), and time travel in particular only exists as a figurative way of handling physical and emotional trauma, and otherwise it's probably just a very complicated scheme to get someone convicted of murder. the games have been pretty clear about all that. but god what i wouldn't do for a story where post-AA4 absolutely-drowning-in-guilt-and-self-hatred klavier accidentally gets himself peggy sue'd to the start of the gramarye trial

[wrenreid]

Not So Innocent (Spencer Reid)

series masterlist | completed

series content warnings: 9 year age gap (22/31), mentions of violence, murder, vague mentions of SA (forced kissing, sleazy men), cannon consistent trauma…

————

S.R. x fem reader

A gang operation is shut down and the BAU finds a young lady who was brought into the midst of it. They bring her to safety, and Dr. Reid seems to take a liking to her, keeping her safe with him. But she struggles to keep her secret hidden as the dynamic changes between the genius and her.

Chapter One | A scared young woman is found during a gang bust. The gang is arrested.

Chapter Two | The BAU brings the girl in for questioning and help her get situated in a hotel.

Chapter Three | Reader’s under pressure to get her “family” aka the gang out of jail.

Chapter Four | Spencer comforts Y/n because he feels sorry for what’s happened with her.

Chapter Five | Y/n takes advantage of Dr. Reid’s kindness and asks to stay at his place instead of the hotel. He agrees to help out.

Chapter Six | Reader comes up with a plan that will help her get her family out of their predicament. She’s still staying with Spencer.

Chapter Seven | Spencer and Y/n spend the day together grabbing food and going to a bookstore.

Chapter Eight | The two spend time out together again and get closer.

Chapter Nine | Spencer offers Y/n his bed so she can sleep better. When she has another nightmare, he comes to comfort her. Then, he has to leave for a case.

Chapter Ten | Y/n suffers through another nightmare and wakes up to noises around the apartment. Luckily for her, Spencer is back home and ready to comfort - and maybe do a little more - her to help.

Chapter Eleven | Y/n and Spencer go on their first official date. Things are starting to change.

Chapter Twelve | The two return to his apartment after their date and share the most intimate night they’ve had.

Chapter Thirteen | After a heartfelt talk of the past with Spencer, Y/n realizes she cannot go through with her plans.

Chapter Fourteen | Y/n decided to do the right thing and leave, but before she can her lies and past catch up to her.

Chapter Fifteen | A handful of years pass, and Y/n is set free. Her and Spencer finally get the closure they need.

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: none really but the reader is a tsundere, and there’s some vague awful knowledge on how horse ranches operate. 

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The next two weeks were about as awkward as one would expect them to be. Even without their already tense history with each other, it wouldn’t exactly be a situation that would be any easier to adjust to. For god's sake, he was hiding out in Texas and was wanted for treason against his former organisation. What about that was supposed to be easy for him?

The two of you had largely avoided each other during this time, sometimes even barely seeing each other during the day. For the first couple of days, Jack had spent most of his time upstairs at your insistence, in order to properly let his wounds heal. No matter how much he protested against you, you weren’t having a single second of his nonsense and told him rather firmly that it was for his own good to stay up there. Those were the days where he’d found himself utterly bored out of his brain - there were only so many books that were kept in that little guest bedroom, and even though the thought had crossed his mind a few times he’d already swore to you he wouldn’t go poking through the closets for anything.

When you’d finally deemed him in good enough shape to help around the ranch, then things had gotten better. Or at least, they’d gotten less boring. No matter what a part of his mind instinctually lingered on Statesman, whether that be on how so many years of loyalty to the organisation ended in a crashing blaze or how long he would have before they were able to track him down. He didn’t give himself much time on the run - a few months maximum if he was lucky before they inevitably caught onto him one way or another. Sometimes he wondered what the point of running even was if he believed so thoroughly that Statesman would catch up to him. The only answer he could ever give for himself to that was four simple words: I have to try. It may be a longshot, he may spend the rest of his life evading his former agency at every turn but goddamn he had to at least try to get away from it all. The things he’d done in Cambodia, the threat of death ever looming over him. He’d gotten lucky once escaping with his life, so who’s to say that couldn’t happen again? 

Stealing a brief glance over to where you were only metres away from him, cleaning out one of the older horses stalls, he couldn’t help but wonder about you. There was no doubt in his mind that you loathed him for what he did, and rightfully so he had to admit. The few words you had exchanged with each other during this time were terse and brief, and were mainly condensed to matters with looking after the animals or mundane things like asking where the keys were. Even from the start your demeanour hadn’t been remarkably bright, which in a way struck him as odd. You certainly weren’t the same girl he remembered dating years ago. Jack never expected you to be happy at his return into your life but there was something more too - even when you weren’t around him, when you were putting on a happy face for the different guests and customers something was missing still. When Jack had first met you, you were still only in college, and while on the surface you had that same snark that he found himself loving more and more about you with every time you’d spoken, there was also a sense of innocence there. He remembered how your moral code was always focused on doing the right thing, how you wanted to believe that deep down everyone had some good in them. It was something he’d admired about you - even back then he was jaded by the world, having witnessed so much wickedness firsthand both through his position at Statesman and from his own life before that. Some would call you naive for having that much faith in humanity, but he’d found it endlessly endearing. 

He wasn’t inclined to say that you no longer believed in doing what’s right - you had taken him in when there was nowhere else to turn. But that brightness in your eyes, the unwavering trust you’d always been willing to give. That was what was gone, extinguished like it was never even there to begin with. He had to wonder if he was largely responsible for this change, if the reason you’d become so passingly apathetic and distrustful was because of his actions. Most likely that was the case, and from what you’d said a couple of weeks back about your parents passing away it was no wonder you were no longer that spunky wide-eyed girl from Texas, that you had become so sullen and moody. A lot had clearly happened in those seven years of silence, and for that he felt truly remorseful for how he’d hurt you.

You hadn’t mentioned that night so far, so a part of Jack felt willing to leave things as is and only focus on being as little of a hassle to you as possible during this time. If you mention the breakup you run the risk of making things worse, he reasoned with himself. As much as he wanted to apologise, explain himself a little bit, he knew that you were never going to believe a word he said. You believed him to be nothing more than a lying son of a bitch who was only interested in the thrill of the chase and not ever after anything truly committed. He could still hear those cutting remarks slip from your lips as if it were only yesterday. “You know what you are? You’re a fucking liar, Jack Daniels. What happened to forever and always? Or did you forget that?”. 

“Hey, Jack, there should be a new delivery of fresh hay coming through for the horses in the next couple of minutes. Do me a favour and go greet them for me, will ya?” he heard your voice ring out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. “Sure thing, darlin’” he nodded, setting aside the bag of grain he’d been giving each of the horses and stepping aside over towards the stables entrances, only just missing the hasty look you shot him out the corner of his eye.

___

You didn’t know what had come over you. All morning you had been distracted by him, your eyes wandering over to where he was feeding the horses, running his hand across their manes and giving them a gentle pet. Jack had always been great with animals, something the both of you had in common. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you continued to direct your focus on raking out all manner of gunk and mess from the stalls, somewhat annoyed to even be reminiscing on such long forgotten things. Normally you were level headed and focused but ever since Jack had appeared back in your life out of the blue things had gotten a tad stranger for you. It didn’t surprise you in the least that his presence in your house ignited old memories, coaxing out both the bitter and bright from their place dormant at the back of your mind. The two of you had barely said a word to each other in those two weeks and yet here you were, being plagued by ghosts of the past. You wondered if Jack felt the same way, if he could also feel the awkward tension ripe between you. In your opinion, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice.

It didn’t make sense to you. You’d thought you’d long since moved on from the pain he’d caused you, focusing on maintaining a steady rhythm and pace in your own life and being far too busy with the ranch to even let your thoughts wander to your ex-boyfriend. With him around though, it was bringing everything back, almost as if none of it had ever left in the first place. Safe to say, all of it made you more than a bit agitated

But you couldn’t have just left him out there to fend for himself. No, you weren’t heartless, and taking him in was the right thing to do. You could handle the irritating flashbacks and echoes as long as it meant he was safe and alive. And besides, this was only temporary. He’d no doubt find somewhere else to jet off to in a matter of weeks and leave you to return back to your normal routine. It was odd having someone else in the house anyway, after spending so many years alone. Suddenly you had to be considerate for someone else, integrating them into your own routine, your way of life.

And, truth be told, a small part of you didn’t mind the company one bit. Not that you’d ever say that outloud of course. No, you’d rather kill yourself before admitting to anyone, lest Jack himself, that you actually liked having someone else around. Even if words exchanged were few and far between, there was an element of comfort to having someone stay with you. Though you largely chalked this small feeling up to spending too long in solitude. 

Another thing that had taken you by surprise was Jack’s behaviour. You’d fully expected to have to once again deal with his antics, the annoying and frustratingly devilish charm he exuded in every quick witted remark, that smirk of his you’d come to know so well that once upon a time was enough to make you bend to him, and you’d prepared yourself the best you could to combat him back. You were determined to not let him get under your skin and not be taken in by his charm: you knew better now. Strange as it was though, none of that ever ended up coming to pass. In the few interactions you did have with each other a day, Jack was being mostly polite and keeping to himself. Sure, there were a few banter-like comments sprinkled here and there, this was Jack Daniels after all, but they were few and far between. He still hadn’t told you the finer details of what had happened between him and those other agents but it must have been enough to knock him down a few pegs in the ego department judging by his demeanour. That, or he felt the stifling awkwardness between you two and felt it best to dial himself back a bit. Maybe it was a mix of both. You really couldn’t say for sure though. 

Shaking your head, you shifted focus back on to the list of tasks you needed to get through that day before the ranch opened for business. It was around seven in the morning, and opening hours were from eight-thirty to six, and it was a Wednesday so business was moderate. You had a couple of kids booked for riding lessons later on as well as some people coming to rent out specific horses for rides, plus a doctor coming to look at one of the pregnant mares for a checkup. Not exactly what you would call a hectic day but still not a walk in the park either. You also had a couple of deliveries coming in that day, speaking of which, you remembered, one was scheduled to arrive in only a few moments.

You shouted out for Jack to go meet with the delivery guy, and you watched him as he sauntered out of the stables in search of the van, your eyes catching a glimpse of that ridiculous oversized belt buckle of his as it glinted in the early morning light. There were some things about that man you just never understood, his affinity for that tacky buckle being one of them. 

You turned your attention back to your current task of cleaning out the horses stalls. Years ago when you were a young kid you’d turned up your nose at the idea of having to shove around manure and urine soaked hay twice a day, though years passed and you barely even noticed or cared about the grossness of the stench. Shoving the last bits of hay into a large plastic garbage bag, you turned back over to where the old mare was standing in the corner, looking disinterested as usual and blew on a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “Looks like I’m all done here, Jack should be back with the hay for you in a moment” you mused, to which the animal in question lightly grunted back at you, as if it could understand exactly what you’d just said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know old girl. Just sit tight, ok?” you replied, stepping out of the stall and dragging the gate behind you, clearing the latch click just as Jack walked back in with an armful of hay bales. “I got the guy unloading the rest from his van, this should last ya a little over two weeks” he informed you, eliciting a general nod in his direction as a reply. “Good, that’s what I was hoping for. Just put it over by the door and I’ll sort it out in a bit” you instructed, looking down at your wristwatch for the time. 7:40 am - perfectly on schedule. The rest of your employees would be arriving soon, so tasks would be able to be knocked out faster too. 

The low sound of a yawn pulled you from your thoughts as you looked up over to where Jack was stacking the bales of hay, lightly rubbing a hand over his face. “Tired are we, Jack?” you commented, raising your brow slightly at him. 

“A little” he admitted. “Forgot to make myself a coffee this mornin’, and truth be told I didn’t get the best sleep last night”. 

“Is everything alright up there? I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable” you said, a little bit of sarcasm working its way into your tone. You just couldn’t help it, and in your mind, he well deserved every little lick of ire you could throw his way. 

“Everythings perfect, darlin’, I’m just...my mind tends to wander late at night. Things to do with Statesman and such, nothin’ for you to really be concerned about” he dismissed, shifting on his heel towards where the delivery man was bringing in the last of the stock he’d brought over. You didn’t move a single step, instead watching him thank the man and take the supplies off him, a small feeling of sympathy sparking that you quickly shrugged off like it was nothing. People dealt with insomnia all the time, you reasoned. And he said himself that it was nothing to worry about so that was that.

Neither of you said a word for the next couple of minutes, yet some part of the conversation was still at the back of your mind. You didn’t understand why - it was a pretty mundane exchange of words overall however you couldn’t help but still feel you needed to say something more.

“Sometimes I find it hard to sleep too. Usually that’s when I get up and go get a book or something. Anything that works as a distraction to whatever's on my mind” you found yourself saying out of nowhere. You could feel Jack glance over at you but you didn’t meet his gaze, keeping your own eyes trained down on the floor that you were sweeping. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then” you heard him say in response, to which you acknowledged him with a small nod and a slight side glance. In an instant afterwards, you minorly chastised yourself for saying something so stupid and random to him. Great, now you’ve made it even more awkward. You should have just kept your mouth shut. Even still, it was hard to miss that sweet look in Jack’s eyes when he’d replied back, when your eyes had met briefly for that small moment.

___

The loud sound of incessant beeping awoke you from your deep slumber, the noise becoming more and more grating with each second that passed. Mumbling under your breath you reached your hand out from underneath the sheets to flick the alarm off, your eyes only just beginning to adjust to the room around you as the last remnants of your dream melted away into nothing, being replaced by the stark wooden panelling of the walls and the feeling of textured quilt on the edge of your feet. There was barely any light in the room as the sun hadn’t come up yet, and wouldn’t rise for another fifteen minutes or so, leaving your vision time to adjust to the world around you as you rose up in bed and sighed.

Every morning it seemed you told yourself that you needed a vacation, a couple of days off to get away from it all and kick back a little. Sometimes you’d indulge yourself in the thought - taking a plane off to somewhere and not coming back for a couple of weeks. You never actually did it though, not due to a lack of finances but moreso that you didn’t even know what you’d do with yourself with all that time. As much as ranch work dragged on some days, the methodical nature of it kept you grounded and focused. What the hell were you supposed to do without it?

Shuffling off to the edge of the bed, you fumbled around for a pair of socks in your bedside drawer and slipped them onto your feet, your mind starting to wander off to that ever present list of tasks and chores you kept for yourself. The harder you thought on it, the more muddled your brain seemed to get. Leave the to-do list for after you’ve had coffee.

Your body was practically on autopilot as you moved out into the hallway and down the stairs, wanting to hurry to get that invigorating rush that caffeine gave you. The actual taste of the drink you were never totally partial to, truth be told: drinking it had more to do with the fact it woke you up and made you feel less like wanting to die every early morning. No matter how many years passed or long you kept doing this for, you just never became a morning person.

You didn’t notice it at first when you’d reached for two mugs instead of one out of the cupboard, only really caring about attempting to make yourself a coffee as fast as possible that hopefully wasn’t totally shitty in quality. You didn’t notice when you loaded up the espresso machine that you put enough coffee in for two instead of one, or when you put in extra milk in the frother. Really, it only had come to your attention that you’d done any of those things when you suddenly stared back at the kitchen counter and noticed two full mugs of coffee instead of one.

Staring back and forth between the two, you felt your brow crease while you moved your hand up to your neck, lightly rubbing on the back. Huh. Guess I must be really spaced this morning if I made two. As if on cue, you started to hear the sounds of Jack stirring upstairs, and without a second thought you grabbed both mugs in your hand and glided over towards the kitchen table, setting them both down and taking a seat in one of the well worn chairs.

“Hey. I made two by accident. You can have the other one I guess” you announced while watching him transcend down the stairs, gesturing vaguely over towards the other mug. You saw Jack glance up at you, his mussed hair and semi-dazed expression showing that he was probably half asleep still. He hadn’t bothered to dress himself yet, wearing the tight fitting white t-shirt you’d managed to fish out from a back cupboard somewhere and a pair of equally plain pajama pants. He looked...good, somehow, though you weren’t about to say that outloud. You could only imagine the smug self-satisfied smirk that type of remark would garner. 

He slowly walked up towards the table and gently scooped up the mug in his hand, running his thumb over the edge lightly. “Accident, huh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were starting to warm up to me a little” he teased. You rolled your eyes back at him and took another sip of coffee. “Oh, shut up”.

[katblu42]

Tie Me to the Moon

Installment 4 (of 5) in my Whump Wheel spinning experiment. This spin was for John and gave me Cuddling For Comfort and Cemetery.

It is another Young Tracys fic, but it requires some WARNINGS as it deals with grief/mourning, funerals and of course a cemetery. I'm also tagging for social anxiety, sensory overload and panic attack, although I'm not entirely sure exactly what I'm putting John through. If there's any additional warning or tag I need please let me know (or if these ones don't hit the mark).

Possibly more angst than whump.

The day started early. Scott had spoken with John and Virgil the night before about how much he was relying on them both to help get Alan and Gordon ready, since Grandma and Dad would both have a lot on their plate. So, John had set the alarm for 6am to give them time to wake themselves up before tackling the tinies.

By 9am all five boys were awake and fed and dressed in their Sunday best, shoes shined and hair combed awaiting final inspection before the cars arrived to take them to the church. Normally it would have been Dad who inspected the troops before such an important occasion but, like many other things over the last week or so, today the job was taken on by Scott. He left no stray hair or speck of lint unscrutinised, while their father was barely able to do more than glance at his boys and give Scott a pat on the shoulder as he passed on his way out the front door.

Scott decided it would be best if he went in the lead car with Dad. It was the one that had been fitted with the kiddie seats for Gordon and Alan, and Scott could sit between them and keep them settled. That left John and Virgil to ride in the second car with Grandma. The car trip was mostly silent, but Grandma told them they both looked very smart and did her best to smile despite clear indications she was holding back more tears.

As they neared the church it was impossible not to notice the large number of parked vehicles, some still offloading passengers. John let out a large sigh as their car pulled up in front of the chapel. The soft murmurings and general bustle of the gathering crowd penetrated their insulated little bubble even before the driver opened the door to let Grandma out. Virgil waited until he’d caught John’s eye and received a nod before opening his door so both boys could exit on the same side of the car.

The kindly young driver from the funeral home seemed to be keeping most of the well-meaning mourners at bay as the family gathered and were solemnly led into the church and ushered to the front pew. John tried to focus on the flowers, the quiet organ music, the soft glow of sunlight filtering through stained glass rather than the coffins or even the photos of Mom and Grandpa, and definitely not the endless stream of people filling the rows of seats behind them. It was a slightly tight fit getting all seven of them in the one pew, even with Alan on Dad’s (and later Scott’s) lap, but John was glad of the warm press of Virgil on his left and Gordon on his right.

The service was a simple, no-frills affair with the Minister officiating, but friends and family doing most of the talking. John listened through Dad and Grandma retelling stories he’d heard before, but there were little details revealed that he had never known. The anecdotes shared by the others who stepped up to the pulpit microphone – one of Grandpa’s farming neighbours, and an old friend of Mom’s from school – almost felt like stories about other people. It didn’t feel like they were talking about the people John had lost.

For John losing Grandpa was like a constellation of stars going missing from the night sky. It was Grandpa that had told him people are all made of the same stuff as the stars. He had been a quiet, watchful presence in his life, providing light and joy whenever he looked up and saw that twinkle in Grandpa’s eye. Like Ursa Major and Polaris, Grandpa was always there guiding him, giving direction when needed, but never wanting to overstep or overshadow his parents. Not the brightest light in his orbit, but an important, comforting presence that meant John always knew his place in the world.

Mom had been the sun at the centre of his life, his family, his everything. Without her all the light and warmth was gone from the world. Instead of a regular (though slightly wonky) orbit his world now felt like it was tumbling through space and gravity was constantly shifting. One moment he was too heavy to move and the next he was so light might be flung out into space. Night and day and seasons, years and everything he measured his life by had been connected to his Mom – waking him and tucking him into bed, making sure he dressed warm enough or wore sunscreen or had his raincoat, keeping track of birthdays and holidays and school excursion days were all her.

During the service no one spoke of Mom and Grandpa like that.

There was music. One of Mom’s favourite piano pieces. Virgil had wanted to be able to play it today, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to even sit at the piano, much less play at all since the accident. So a recording had been found and it was played as a backing track to the slideshow that flickered through image after image of happy memories telling part of two life stories.

There were prayers. Reassuring words from the minister about heaven and God’s love, and the love we should all share with each other. John wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about heaven, or God calling Mom and Grandpa home to his kingdom.

There was a poem read out by one of Mom’s work colleagues. It was something about not crying or being sad because they were gone, but being happy because they had lived. Many of the people in the room were obviously ignoring the advice – his immediate family included. There were a good many wet handkerchiefs and tissues in hands, a great deal of suppressed sobs and eye rubbing, and a few sleeves swiped across cheeks before the service was over.

Scott and Dad were among the pall bearers who carried the coffins out of the church and onto the waiting machinery that would take care of their final movements. John and his brothers and Grandma were the first of the mourners to follow in the sombre procession. Only a small number of people were permitted to follow the hovering gurneys across the grass and through the little cemetery to the waiting square-sided pits. Just family and a few close friends to witness the way the machinery slowly and smoothly lowered each coffin down into the earth, hear the minister recite the final ritual words, and each place a flower or a sprinkling of dirt atop the coffins in a last goodbye.

The rest of the large crowd had been encouraged to make their way into the Sunday School hall where the wake was to take place. Refreshments had been generously laid out on the tables inside. More photographs of both lost loved ones were on display throughout the room, along with so many more flowers and a large number of cards. But many of the people in attendance that day were still milling about outside the church buildings when John and his family returned through the cemetery for the wake.

John’s feet dragged as he approached the gentle hubbub of mingling friendly faces with sympathetic expressions. He could pick out people he knew well if he let himself concentrate, but the sheer number of individuals he was heading towards was a little overwhelming. They didn’t make it inside the hall before the onslaught began. Almost everyone wanted to say something, speak of sympathy, tell a story, offer “any help you need.” So many wanted to reach out, hold a hand or squeeze an arm, some came in for full-on hugs, cheek kisses and loud, teary exclamations of how sad it all was.

John lost his Dad and Grandma to the throng faster than he thought possible, but before he could be swept up in it himself he was thrown a lifeline. There was a familiar presence by his side, a brush of hand against hand, or specifically pinky against pinky – a request and an offer. John grabbed hold of Virgil’s hand and held fast, tethering himself to his brother like an anchor.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened or how long it had taken, but eventually they all made it inside the Sunday School hall. John was only aware of Virgil’s hand in his, the rest was a blur of faces, voices, bodies. Virgil dealt with anyone who stopped them to offer their personal condolences, listening to what they had to say and responding politely but managing to keep the interactions brief and shielding John from most of the attention. Somehow they made their way to a cluster of chairs where Grandma and Dad were seated, Alan in his father’s lap, still accepting condolences from well-wisher after well-wisher.

John was aware of sweat beading on his forehead as Virgil told him to take a seat next to Grandma for a bit, and then his brother disappeared into the crowd to go and fetch Grandma a cup of tea. He wiped sweaty palms on his trousers as he tried to look around the room. His eyes fell on Scott standing a few feet away, taking all the sympathetic social interactions in his stride, nodding, smiling, shaking hands, accepting embraces.

John’s mouth was dry and he wondered if he could make it across the room to grab a drink from the trestle table against the wall, but there was a sea of bodies he’d have to negotiate in between. For a moment his vision blurred and the vague images of people swam in a dizzying fashion before he could find something to focus on. Alan had obviously grown tired of the hair ruffling and cheek pinching and wriggled free of his Dad’s grasp, and was now trying to run through the small gaps between grown up pairs of legs. Gordon was keeping an eye on him – in between snaffling more cakes and cookies from the food table. John watched the terrible two until they were obscured by too many featureless figures.

Despite the late-winter-cool of the day, the church hall felt uncomfortably warm. The large space with its vaulted ceiling, tall, wide windows and polished wooden floorboards felt dark and gloomy and so very crowded. And the non-stop undercurrent of murmuring voices appeared to build in an unbearable crescendo John could not shut out. Too many bodies, too many voices, too much, too close . . . he needed space, he needed air, he had to get out!

Virgil saw his brother get up and hurry a little unsteadily to the exit as he came back with Grandma’s tea. He tried to keep an eye on the red-head so he could follow, but he had to excuse himself to Grandma and Dad, make his way over to Scott, politely interrupt the conversation and whisper in his big brother’s ear.

“John’s bolted. I’m going after him.”

Scott acknowledged with a nod as his eyes darted to the door, already closed again after John’s escape. Virgil wasted no more time in following, but once outside it took him a moment to figure out which direction John had taken.

John had no particular destination in mind, he just needed to get away. His feet carried him across the gravel driveway and through the grass without him registering the change of surface. He ran through the little cemetery without seeing the tombstones he passed, slowing only when he approached the boundary marked with a low stone wall before a neat, tall hedge. Unable to go any farther he turned and wobbled dizzily. His vision narrowed leaving dull blurred impressions of light and shadow. He heard nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, and he sank down to the ground, sitting heavily, knees bent and pulled up towards his chest. He scrunched his eyes tightly closed and slammed his hands over his ears, trying to block it all out.

Virgil approached slowly, but without trying to hide the sound of his footsteps. He lowered himself to sit facing John, resisting the strong urge to reach out and touch him. Seeing his brother in such distress clawed at his heart. He couldn’t let him struggle through this alone.

“John?” He kept his voice quiet and hoped he could be heard despite the hands staying firmly pressed against ears. “I’m here with you. Just me. No one else is around.”

There was no noticeable response.

“If you can hear me, I need you to try and slow your breathing down a bit, John. Deep breath in,“ and Virgil inhaled, “and out nice and slow.” Virgil waited for a second, watching John’s shallow, ragged breathing for any change. “In,” another inhaled breath, “and out.”

As Virgil continued repeating the instruction like a mantra John’s breathing gradually began to even out into slower, deeper, more controlled breaths. He wasn’t sure, but he thought John’s vice-like grip over his ears might be relaxing a little too.

“You’re doing great, John. Keep focusing on your breathing. Keep listening. Hear the breeze whispering through the leaves? Did you hear those birds?”

John did hear the cry of a bird overhead, and an answering call a little farther away as his hands drifted away from his head. As he lowered them to limply rest on the ground beside him he heard a gentle gust of wind rustle the hedges, and he registered that it did indeed sound a bit like a whisper.

“The sun’s broken free of the clouds. Can you feel it on your face, John? Can you feel the wind in your hair? You do realise there’s dirt and leaves beneath your fingertips, right?”

John turned his focus where his brother’s voice directed it, feeling the warmth on the left side of his face, and the breeze toying with his hair. There was indeed leaf litter and slightly damp dirt beneath his flexing fingers.

“If you’re ready to open your eyes you’ll see the moon’s out. I like the way the moon looks in the day. Against the blue of the sky the shadows make it look almost see-through.”

Translucent. That would have been a better word for what Virgil was trying to say. The thought flitted through John’s mind as he let his eyes drift open and scan the sky until they latched onto the gibbous moon framed by scattered cumulous clouds. He was also aware there was irony in the way his brother was effectively using the moon to anchor him, to bring him back to earth and ground him in the here and now.

Virgil had stopped talking, leaving the wind and occasional twitters and cries of the birds to fill the silence as John watched the clouds dance around the moon. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him almost as tangibly as he could feel the damp earth he was sitting on and the cool stone of the wall at his back. Now feeling much calmer he took a deep breath and brought his gaze down from the sky to meet the concern and compassion contained in those warm, brown eyes.

“Welcome back.” A hint of a smile played across Virgil’s face as he spoke.

A quiet moment stretched between them. No words spoken, but information passing from brother to brother through eye contact alone.

Content that John was no longer caught in a spiral he couldn’t escape on his own, Virgil glanced over his shoulder towards the Sunday School hall.

“I should go back, but you can stay here if you want. I’ll come and find you when it’s time to go. Just don’t wander off or anything.”

John didn’t speak as he chanced his own glance back toward the ongoing wake. Then, as Virgil made a move to get up and leave, John reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay. Please?”

Virgil stopped and stared first at the fingers digging into his wrist, then into pleading, desperate aquamarine. He simply nodded and adjusted his position so he was sitting next to John, their shoulders touching. John loosened his grip on Virgil’s wrist but didn’t let go, so John’s arm looped around his knees and Virgil’s arm crossed his body to keep the connection. There was an almost imperceptible hesitation, but then simultaneously John leaned in towards his brother and Virgil wrapped his arm around John, pulling them into a secure embrace.

John finally let go of Virgil’s wrist, bringing his arm in close, grabbing a fistful of Virgil’s suit jacket and snuggling closer into his brother’s chest. This enabled Virgil to employ both arms in the hug. John rarely cuddled up like this with anyone, but all the times he could remember doing so were with Mom. His next intake of breath hitched at the realisation, and Virgil held a little tighter. The threat of tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he was grateful that, while not the same as a cuddle from Mom, he was still able to find this level of safety and comfort in the arms of someone who loved him.

“I want her back,” he sobbed, letting the tears flow and drip onto Virgil’s jacket.

“Yeah. Me too.”

John heard the tears in Virgil’s voice, but he already knew his brother felt the same absence in their hug.

Neither boy could say how long they stayed out there, huddled together, holding tight while hot tears streaked their cheeks. Time may as well have stood still for all it mattered. Nothing else was important, just the feeling that this moment, however sad, was there’s alone to share until Scott came and found them to tell them it was time to go home.

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar. 

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone. 

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work. 

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers. 

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea. 

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues. 

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon. 

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional. 

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises. 

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far. 

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him. 

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.” 

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?” 

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.” 

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.” 

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.” 

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?” 

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor. 

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good. 

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.” 

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.” 

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon. 

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself. 

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.” 

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked. 

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you. 

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch. 

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” 

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done. 

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by. 

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job… 

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing. 

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done. 

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made  your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess. 

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available. 

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus. 

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had. 

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow. 

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch. 

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly. 

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride. 

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard.. 

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months. 

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now. 

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air. 

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them. 

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him. 

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing. 

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name. 

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light. 

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.” 

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.” 

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes… 

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.” 

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him. 

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was. 

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal. 

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago. 

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching. 

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all. 

[ecto-american]

I was doing some research for a fanfiction, and remembered this line from Reality Trip, which got my criminal justice self all excited because of the implications. So have some analysis from a rambling autistic with a criminal justice degree.

“Daniel Fenton, in accordance with the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act, Article 1, Section 1, Sub-section A, you're under arrest.”

Y'all, this is kinda wack? It means, on some level, there has been a federal judgment within the world of Danny Phantom that not only acknowledges that ghosts exist, but has an entire fucking act describing specifically the course of action in a sense. Lots of acts will kind of be this vague overarching thing with various random acts thrown into it, but the name along with the article one, section one subsection a dealio implies that this entire act focuses on ghosts. I say act and not law btw, because those terms are not necessarily synonyms.

Not only does this confirm that there are acts (at least one anyway) in Danny Phantom that specifically talk about ghosts, but kind of really and truly cements that the Guys in White are actually a federal government agency, rather than them simply acting as one but really being a private company of sorts or being some local state government program.

And with laws about ghosts, it means that legally, the government had to define what exactly a ghost is as well as their rights and lack of rights, and that they legally acknowledge, as a nation, that ghosts exists. While, of course, we don’t really ever get to see this act, and as far as I know, it’s literally Never talked about again, this scene means that this act applies to Danny. For a quick refresher, this happens after Danny is exposed, and so this act still applies to Danny despite him being outted as a half ghost. A scary sidenote is before this scene and line of dialogue, the agents told Danny that he was coming in for questioning and experiments.

So what might it possibly say? If there are any acts that we can potentially base what this act possibly would say, I would probably guess it’d be similar to the acts used for minorities within the United States. And I say these kinds of acts because they’re specifically acts that discriminate towards a group, and that have used various reasons to justify how they are not human, citizens or have any legal rights. If the agents’ lines were correct, these acts probably gave them justification for doing inhumanly cruel things to Danny.

Of course, Danny could be arrest for something totally different and not for some anti-ghost reasons. At this point in time, he’s still kind of half-loved, half-hated publicly as people are shown to still believe that he stole during the events of Control Freaks and the mayor incident of Public Enemies, but if he was under arrest for any of those crimes, the agents would have said that. And I refuse to believe this is an oversight of the writers, because they would have found any nitpicky thing and made it a funny situation where the agents went on and on and on about this endless list of crimes that the ghost boy has committed until Danny roundhouse kicked somebody. And no, it’s likely not because the Guys in White are only interested in Ghost Crimes. As federal officials, which they are confirmed to be, they would have arrested him for everything and have to basically fistfight the other government agencies investigating his Non Ghost Crimes.

So what exactly is he under arrest for? No clue obviously, and it’s hard to really even guess. Article 1, Section 1, Sub-section A for most acts are basically describing what the act’s going to be before it moves on to detail that. I think this is an oversight of the DP writers, lord knows we get enough of them, but it could also potentially highlight the Dumb factor of the Guys in White that we would see them sometimes exhibit, where instead of properly referencing the piece of legislation he’s under arrest for, they just blurt out the first section of that law.

And who wrote this act? It could be anybody, of course. Anybody within politics. It also begs the question as to exactly when this act was written and when it was put into effect. I’d wager it heavily depends on when the Guys in White came into effect, as they are clearly acting under these laws. Which begs the question: how many pieces of anti-ghost legislation are there? Who’s writing them? There’s potential that there are literally lawyers who are literally experts in ghost law. Keep in mind that in the beginning of the series, there was a lot of skepticism that ghosts even exist.

This honestly leads me to propose a new headcanon: The Guys in White are a very new government organization that spawned after the events of Public Enemies. To preface this and clarify, in order, the Guys in White appear in only five episodes: Million Dollar Ghost, Double Cross My Heart, Reality Trip, Eye for an Eye, and Livin’ Large.

Evidence to support this theory:

They only show up four episodes later in their first appearance in Million Dollar Ghost. Public Enemies seems to also be the first episode in the series that shows a massive onslaught of ghost attacks. I would guess that this is the ghostly event that probably spawned the act in question, which may have called for the organization of the Guys in White. Prior to this, ghosts were basically shown that they’re unconfirmed to exist on a public level. Even Jack, our lovable and excitable ghost hunter who’s been doing this since his college years admits in Mystery Meat that he’s never seen a ghost until that point. Jazz mentions that Harriet Chin in Bitter Reunions lost her job for writing an article about ghosts because she was laughed for writing about something that was more for “the national enquirer”, a conspiracy theory newspaper that nobody really takes seriously.

Why are they there during the events of Million Dollar Ghost anyway? If they’re a new organization, they may need that money or are cashing in on the publicity of the event to spread their name, or they’re just starting out and have no real clue where else to go. Only two of them even showed up anyway. The only other groups there are very small ghost hunting groups: literally two young adults on scooters, another set of young adults with a tiger fueled by anxiety and a van, and FentonWorks. And while they, out of all of them, clearly have the most advanced technology, they’re about on the same skill level as the other ghost hunters (getting captured and tricked and such just as easily). Danny even was just as “haha” about them as he was the other hunters who had showed up.

Their technology in Million Dollar ghost is nothing in comparison to the literal jetpacks and planes and four wheelers and armor they get several episodes later. Their funding increased when they proved ghosts exist and more ghostly events happened, and they likely proved their competence in some way. Especially when we see that they have been catching other ghosts (like Skulker in Double Cross My Heart and Lydia in Reality Trip) and gathering important information on ghostly artifacts (Reality Trip).

It would explain why they don’t really show up that often in the series, especially during major ghost events where they really should be there, such as the ghost king invasion of Reign Storm. They may have not secured the funding or manpower to really do anything just yet. Note that Reign Storm happened in between Million Dollar Ghost and Double Cross My Heart, which is almost a 20 episode gap. Their skills, knowledge, ability, technology and apparent funding jumped massively between these episodes, and it kind of stays about the same consistency for the rest of the show.

They really only seem to have one department, and they have really low employee numbers for a government agency. There’s no talk or implications or having multiple departments or anything, such as research or technology. Even during the SWAT invasion during Reality Trip, there’s only like twenty or so agents there. In Livin’ Large, there’s only about seven there, and two are the Agent K and O that we know. They play a lot of roles, from researching, questioning, gathering information, tracking down criminals, getting information from the Fenton’s lab, technology things in FentonWorks, etc. Of course, this is a staple for many law enforcement jobs where you have many tasks, but they seem to be playing the role of detective, computer analysis, and police officer at minimum given the wide variety of things we see them do. As somebody who’s worked in three situations where the company/program was very new, it’s incredibly common for a new company that’s still finding it’s groundings to have a very blurred job line. Or they’re heavily underfunded, but look at the goddamn jetpacks they get, look me in the eye and tell me they’re underfunded.

The lack of basic ghost information. In Livin’ Large, they want to destroy the Ghost Zone. It’s apparently very obvious that you Can’t Do That, but the Guys in White seem oblivious. While you can argue that they’re just fucking dumb, it may be more reasonable to assume that they simply just don’t know.

There’s no dialogue (that I can find) prior to Million Dollar Ghost to suggest they exist. There’s also no dialogue from Vlad, who would have known and been wary of such an organization had it been around for years, to suggest that they’ve been around a while. Jack, who also is open about how much he admires them, would have likely said something to. But I am willing to chalk this entire part up to simply poor writing.

“But Danny knew who the Guys in White were when they showed up in Million Dollar Ghost!” Yeah. He also knew who the other people were, and I heavily doubt that they’d be as big of a deal or name as the Official government branch. It’s very likely that they all introduced themselves when they showed up.

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Finding Solace (Jungkook x Young-soon)

Contains: Angst. Family discussions. *Trigger warning for upsetting scenes involving an ill family member*

Set between ‘Jin’s Wedding’ and ‘A Reunion’, Young-soon’s father is taken ill, and Jungkook agnosies over how to support her during such a difficult time.

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read all headcanon fics chronologically, go here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin  /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fics and art can be found here

Content below the cut

PART ONE

The strip light overhead buzzed incessantly as Jungkook punched a code into the vending machine at the end of the hall, watching the spiralled dispenser twirl before dropping a candy bar in the tray below. He paused for a moment, before ordering another. He knew Young-soon would not be hungry when she left the ward, but it was a long drive home and her appetite was sure to return before they reached Seoul. 

The corridor was strangely silent, with only the humming bulb and the distant squeak of a nurse’s shoes keeping him company, but he couldn’t help feeling relieved. During their first few visits, Young-soon’s relentless, pained sobs had echoed from the room where her father was kept, and he had felt powerless to stop them. That first long and silent drive from her apartment in the city to the suburban hospital at the edge of Incheon still played on his mind; the way she automatically reached for the handle on the driver’s side of her car after receiving the call, and how he had stopped her, knowing she was in no condition to attempt the journey. She was shaking the whole way, gaze fixed on the road ahead as he steered through the city, following the Satnav which promised to find the streets with the least congestion. Her eyes swam with tears, but she kept her jaw tightly clenched, only letting go when he finally pulled into the hospital parking lot and her mother met them in the foyer. Stepping back, he allowed them space to hug; their embrace tightening as they clung to each other; her mother briefly meeting his gaze over his girlfriend’s shoulder, with a thankful nod. 

He hadn’t known what to do when they reached the third floor. The door to her father’s suite was open, and Jungkook caught a glimpse of the older man’s pale, chalky face in the hospital bed. His eyes were closed, and for a moment he feared the worst, until the doctor led the two women into the room and murmured that he was stable. The younger woman’s shoulders dropped in relief and she turned, for the first time that afternoon, to face her boyfriend, letting out a long sigh. 

Wanting to give them their privacy and feeling a little worn from the unexpected drive, he stayed in the corridor. There was something he needed to do and looked around the ward for a phone-zone, where he could make a private call without disturbing the staff. Several signs dotted around the walls clearly forbade their use in the corridors, but he finally found one which pointed to a small room near the nurses’ station and followed the direction of the arrow, closing the door quietly behind himself.  

It took longer than expected to be connected to the right person but, satisfied he had done all he could, he looked around the ward, seeking out somewhere to sit. Slowly, he walked to a line of plastic chairs which lined one whitewashed wall and leaned back, pressing the pads of his thumb and index finger against his eyes. It seemed as though he had been awake for days but a quick glance at his G-Shock told him it was not yet seven pm. His heart seemed to stop when, a moment later he heard Young-soon let out a single cry, quickly muffled by, presumably, her mother’s shoulder in another tight embrace. He considered getting back to his feet and rushing in to see her, but knew he couldn’t help. The quiet, reassuring tone of the doctor’s voice floated down the hall from the private room, followed by that of her mother, before the door closed behind them, muffling the sounds from the outside world. 

Jungkook waited patiently, ignoring the nagging, itchy feeling behind his eyes, until he could no longer keep them open. Settling back, he urged himself to stay awake, wanting to be there when the door eventually opened again; to be told how the older man had been affected by the stroke which had occurred while pottering around the garden earlier in the day. Jungkook remembered observing the weather from Young-soon’s apartment window as he got out of the shower and towelled himself off; thinking that if he did not have to make a video call to his management it would have been the perfect day for a long stroll through the park. There had not been a cloud in the sky, and the layer of fog which usually filled the streets early in the day had been absent. He recalled thinking that Young-soon would be thankful; that her asthma which sometimes played up when the air was badly polluted would not bother her while the day was so bright and, suddenly, he felt a little guilty; as though his cheerful mood and optimism had somehow cursed the day, causing things to become messy and complicated. He thought of her father, who always hugged him so fondly when they met and seemed so proud of him the last time they spoke, when Jungkook revealed he was laying the groundwork for a solo album. Other than his own parents, he had never met somebody who welcomed him with such warmth and affection. It had crossed his mind more than once over the last two and a half years that he would feel honoured to call such a man his father-in-law and hoped, more than anything, that he would be okay; that the other man would get to enjoy another sun-filled day in the garden, admiring the bright variety of flowers he had so lovingly planted over the years. 

It wasn’t until he heard the loudening sounds of footsteps against the vinyl flooring and his eyes snapped open that he realised he had fallen asleep. The door to the hospital suite was wide open, and Young-soon was walking towards him, dabbing gently at her eyes with the back of her fingers. He got to his feet at once, wondering vaguely how long he had been dozing.

“How is he?” Jungkook asked, reaching out for her hands as she closed the gap between them. 

She sniffled quietly, voice trembling. “We won’t know until he wakes up.”

His heart sank and he looked over her shoulder, towards the open doorway. He couldn’t see from this angle, but he suspected from the almost-silent atmosphere, that her father was alone.

“Did your mom go home?”

She nodded. “She’s just picking up a few things. They’ve said it could be a while…”

“I’ve called your boss.” He reassured her, squeezing her fingers gently. “He said to take a few days off and call when you can.”

A frown lined her face, crumpling her features. “I didn’t even think of that…”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about work.” He murmured softly and she sighed, clearly drained and feeling at a loss of what to do next. 

“I’m worried about my mom.” She admitted. 

“Is she planning to stay at home?”

Her shoulders moved in a shrug. “I doubt she’s thought of booking anywhere. I just don’t want her to be on her own.”

He thought for a moment, realising that he had never been in a situation like this before and wondering whether he was doing the right thing; if there was more he should be doing. The thought seemed pointless, but it troubled him nonetheless and when he spoke next, he was a little cautious. “Do you want me to stay?” 

Her eyes met his, but her gaze was soft and grateful. “Don’t you have a photoshoot tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

That had been two weeks ago...but the look of worry on her face as they left the hospital together still haunted him. 

Pocketing the spare candy bar, he reached for the cup of lukewarm instant coffee he had left sitting on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and sipped it with a grimace as a young woman opened the door of the nurses station and joined the corridor to begin her evening rounds. She looked freshed out of training, her short black hair tied neatly in a bun, and cast a double glance in his direction as she walked past. Nervously, he moved the polystyrene cup from his mouth and pointed at it. 

“Am I okay to drink it here?” He asked, thinking he had been caught out. There were no signs telling him not to but, like the cell phone policy, he suspected the nurses could be pretty strict. She hesitated for a moment before nodding with a smile. 

“Yeah, sure. Just be careful not to spill any.”

It took him a moment to work out the expression on her face and realised it was a look he had seen before. For a second, she seemed to hesitate and he wondered whether she would ask for an autograph. The timing would be incredibly inappropriate, but it would not be the first time. Instead, she surprised him by straightening up, as though catching herself and realising where she was and, with an internal sigh of relief, Jungkook cut the silence. 

“I will.” He promised, before nodding in the direction of the door down the hall which was undoubtedly one she would be visiting on her round. “How is he?”

Following his eyeline, she pointed. “In there?” She turned back to him. “A lot better than he was. He’s got his appetite back…and his communication’s improving.” 

“Has he been out of bed yet?”

She shook her head. “Not on his own.” She must have seen the sunken expression on his face, because her gaze softened sympathetically. “...It just takes time.”

“I guess.” 

She thought for a moment. “The woman in there with him now…do you know her?”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Jungkook confirmed, realising as he said it that it was the first time he had told someone other than those he knew. It didn’t feel like such a big deal anymore. “He’s her father.”

“Oh.” Her mouth opened, as though desperately wanting to ask more, but she quickly closed it, remaining professional. “If you need anything, I’ll be right down the hall.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the station and started to walk away before turning back, just remembering... “Visiting hours are almost over.” She warned softly. “If you want to stay a few more minutes, I won’t tell…”

Jungkook nodded with a grateful smile. “Thanks.” 

PART TWO

Three months later…

She took the towel as it was handed to her with a quiet thanks and began the work of wiping the cutlery which lay on the draining board, dropping them by type into the draw behind her as her mother washed up. She noticed the silver in the older woman’s hair which seemed to cover almost her head; a few strands of black still clinging to the strands in the centre while the edges were consumed. It had only been two and a half weeks since her last visit, but the stress of the last few months had finally started to take its toll. Her face was likewise adorned by a few extra grooves and lines which Young-soon did not remember being there at the time of her father’s hospitalisation, and she wondered vaguely whether she too was beginning to show physical signs of her worry. She had recently found a few greys of her own while brushing her hair in the bathroom mirror and had plucked them out with a quiet “fuck.”

Catching her gaze, her mother smiled softly; the crinkles at the corner of her mouth strangely loving as they both turned ahead to look out of the wide window in front of the sink. The view overlooked a small patch of decking and, beyond that, the stretch of lawn which was currently being mowed by Jungkook. He moved along the push-mower with some effort; its metal blades noisy as it cut through the grass in a straight line. Beside him, Young-soon could just about make out the shape of her father standing under the shade cast by the garden shed; his oversized stomach hanging over his shorts as he watched the young man carefully. This too seemed strange. She remembered her father as lean and trim when he entered the hospital, but it seemed that months of spending most of his time in bed had rounded him.

The two women subconsciously held their breath as Jungkook stopped mowing and reached for a potted plant which blocked his path at the edge of the grass, picking it up and discarding it gently by a row of sunflowers. 

The older woman tutted with a smile. “He’s going to ask him to move it.” She warned softly, under her breath. “You know he likes it in the shade.”

Young-soon watched and, a moment later, her father’s short, stubby finger shot out and pointed in the direction of the shadowed decking.

Her mother chuckled lightly, handing her a freshly washed plate.. “I told you…I wonder how much longer he’ll continue if your dad keeps bossing him around.”

Young-soon shrugged. “Probably all night.” She mumbled dryly, stacking the plate onto the drying rack. She sensed her mother looking at her out of the corner of her eye. 

“I hope you don’t order him around like that.” She taunted, a little too knowingly.. “He seems like he has trouble saying no.”

Her eyes rolled in reply, voice little more than a grumbling whisper. “Tell me about it…” The tone of her answer made her mother frown and, changing the subject, Young-soon nodded towards the outline of her boyfriend as he resumed mowing. “It was his idea to come and help.”

The older woman looked at her a moment longer before she too continued the task at hand; dipping her worn hands into the bowl to find the dishcloth at the bottom. “He’s a sweet boy.” She commented fondly, as though stating a fact, and Young-soon couldn’t help but sigh in agreement.  

“I know.” She murmured, finding herself looking in his direction once more as he stopped what he was doing to reach for the hem of his white shirt and lift it above his head. The day was unseasonably warm and his tanned skin glistened with sweat; his tattoos becoming visible as he discarded the fabric on the stone walkway which ran alongside the neat patch of lawn. She watched him wipe his forehead with the back of his hand and could almost imagine her father’s sarcastic, and slightly chastising comment at the sight. Jungkook cast a timid grin in his direction, muttering something in reply before reaching once more for the handlebar. Despite having seen him topless almost every day for the past few months as he spent more and more time with her, it still made her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Catching herself, she shook her head and glanced down at the growing pile of plates she had missed being handed to her. 

“I caught him looking at apartments the other day.” Young-soon said, ignoring the churning, fluttery feeling in her lower stomach. 

“Oh?” The other woman seemed interested. 

She nodded, laughing softly. “Here in Incheon...he was trying to minimise the website when I came in, but he clicked zoom instead…”

“Do you think he wants you to move in together?”

She sensed the curiosity in her mother’s voice and couldn’t help but feel guilty that she was not as entirely convinced by the idea.

“It’s a big step.” She spoke slowly. “I’m not sure if I’d want to commute.”

“It’d only be for the weekends.” Her mother reasoned, voice raising in pitch as though unable to hide her excitement. “You could stay in Seoul with your aunt.”

Young-soon pulled a face and she tutted dramatically, hiding a smile. 

“She always asks how you are…” 

“Then I’ll call her…” 

The clattering sound outside came to a halt; the mowing evidently finished and Jungkook began the task of sorting the plant pots he had shifted back to their original place, under the watchful eye of her father.

“It’s good of him to support you going part time.” Her mother eventually murmured, cutting the silence. 

“I didn’t ask him to.” She protested weakly. “But I’m glad he does.” Young-soon admitted with a small sigh. “My wages only just cover my rent.”

“You know we’d help too…” 

She shook her head sadly. “Dad’s treatment...” She argued, feeling a small hand brush her shoulder.

“You’re our only daughter.” The voice beside her was soft, reassuring. “We’ve been putting money aside for years...for when you get married…”

Her lips twisted in a small, sarcastic smile. “That’s optimistic.” 

The other woman shook her head in disagreement. “He’d make a good husband.” She reasoned, but found herself frowning a moment later when Young-soon did not answer. “You’re not sure?” 

Sighing, she admitted defeat. “I suppose he would be…” 

“Haven’t you discussed it before?” Her mother raised a questioning eyebrow. “If you want a family?”

“Once or twice...” She admitted, looking down. “But not in a while.” Glancing back through the window, she was lost in thought for a moment. “He seems fixated on this house thing...”

“It’d be nice to have you closer.” Her mother’s tone seemed hopeful. “Your dad would appreciate it too.”

Young-soon nodded. “I’m glad he’s getting better.”

“They want him back in next week to run some more tests.” 

Her stomach sank. “You didn’t say…”

“It’s just precautionary. They don’t want him to exert himself too much. And he has a new diet plan. No red meat whatsoever.”

Young-soon’s lips curled in a guilty smile and she eyed her mother playfully. “He won’t like that.”

“I told him I’d try it too.” The older woman laughed quietly. “But he doesn’t know about the dried pork in the cupboard.”

“You rebel.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a small knock on the kitchen door which opened onto the garden. They both turned in unison to look towards the doorway as Jungkook’s face appeared in the frame, his forehead shimmery with perspiration. 

“Hi…” He waved, a little out of breath. Young-soon suspected some of the plant pots were heavier than they looked and hadn’t been moved in years. He looked past her, directing his question at her mother. “He asks where you keep the weed killer.” He blushed, a little embarrassed to be following such an errand. 

“In the same place I’ve kept it for thirty six years.” The older woman called cheerfully, voice full of sarcasm.  

The young man looked from her to his girlfriend, who seemed more than amused, before nodding curtly, anticipating he would end up rewording the instructions so as to not frustrate the other man any further.“Alright, thanks...” He gave another timid wave, before disappearing back through the doorway, coming into view a moment later as he joined the stretch of lawn and walked over to the man now sitting in a deck chair. Young-soon and her mother both watched Jungkook open the garden shed and duck under the low-hanging door frame to delve into its depths. He reammerged a moment later, clutching a bright green bottle. 

“He cheated on me.” Young-soon suddenly said, cutting the silence. 

“What?” The low, emotionless tone of her daughter’s voice masked the meaning for a moment and her smile faded as she turned to face her. 

“Jungkook.” She sighed softly, pulling her eyes from her boyfriend’s silhouette to look her mother in the eye. “He cheated...a while back.”

The woman opposite opened her mouth, lips flailing for a moment, before pressing them tightly together; eyebrows knitting in a frown. “With who?” She asked softly, confused. 

Young-soon shrugged. “I don’t know.” She admitted, suddenly feeling pathetic. “He doesn’t either. It was at a party.”

The older woman was stunned into silence, eyes roaming over her daughter’s face as though trying to read more into the situation, but finding nothing more than what was already said. “I’m surprised.” She murmured after a moment, wanting to say more, but unable to find the right words. 

“So was I…” Young-soon admitted, turning back to finish the drying. Jungkook was, unsurprisingly, sprinkling liquid into the cracks between the decking, targeting the long, ugly-looking flowers which had started to sprout through the slits of wood while her father had been in hospital. 

Although there were a few stray items of crockery still submerged in the soapy water, her mother ignored them, instead watching her daughter carefully as Young-soon slotted the last few plates into the remaining gaps on the drying rack. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She quietly asked.

Young-soon shrugged feebly. “I didn’t know how I felt…” A frown formed on her face as she watched the young man stride back down the garden and kneel softly beside a plant pot, reaching for the small sack of soil which lay beside it. She shook her head, backtracking. “I was ashamed. Should I have been more mad?” 

Her question was directed more to herself than the woman opposite and her mother was once more silent for a few moments, before speaking up. “Has he told you he’s sorry?”

She nodded, letting out a small, humourless laugh. “He begged my forgiveness for a year.” There was a moment of hesitation before the continued, a hint of residual pain in her voice, as though unearthing old wounds. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right...what he did.” 

The voice which came from beside her was beyond tender; understanding. “Of course it doesn’t.” Her mother agreed. “But things aren’t always perfect.”

Young-soon turned to look at her, gathering herself together. “Does it change your opinion of him?” She asked, realising that she was a little anxious for the anwer. 

“As he is right now?” Her mother looked through the window, watching him for a moment. “He’s potting begonias in your father’s old gardening hat…” She commented, telling the other woman all she needed to know. 

Surprisingly relieved, her shoulders dropped and she wiped her damp hands on the towel, running it across her fingers. “I just needed to tell someone.” She confessed quietly, glancing back towards the garden, eyes fixing steadily on the figure kneeled in the distance. “Before we move in together.”

“Do you feel better?” Her mother asked.

“No…” She admitted with a small shrug. “But I can’t hold onto it forever.”

“No, you can’t…” The woman agreed, falling quiet. Young-soon watched her dip her hands back into the now lukewarm water and reach for the chopsticks which had fallen to the bottom of the bowl. “So you’ve made up your mind? About the move?” 

Young-soon nodded, unable to stop herself from feeling bashful. “I think I did, just now.”

“That’s good.” Her mother whispered, relieved to hear her daughter sounding more like herself again. The confession still played on her mind, but it seemed the younger woman had worked things out for herself. “I’m glad you told me.” She confirmed gently. “I can’t believe you got so grown up…”

Young-soon rolled her eyes, but felt her stomach grow warm at the pride evident in the woman’s voice. “My twenties are far behind me mom…”

“Your dad still sees you as his little girl.” Her mother said fondly, nodding towards the garden where the older man was seen to be shuffling forward in his chair and reaching for Jungkook’s outstretched hands as he was pulled steadily to his feet. “Let’s just keep this between us.” She said gently, pressing her lips together tightly. 

Young-soon nodded silently, watching the two men walk, side by side, across the garden. Her father was helped along by the cane, as well as the reassuring grasp of Jungkook’s hand as he accompanied him, matching his slow pace as they joined the shaded decking. 

“Looks like they’re nearly done.” Her mother observed, gaze softening at the sight. It had been a hard few months, but she was relieved her husband was well enough to walk again. “Go and ask if they want something to drink. They both look like they need a lie down.”

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

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[writethehousedown]

And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Three (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: hello! welcome to chapter four of zyan tries her best to juggle all of the characters. i think we’re pretty much done as far as introductions go? so here’s where things start to get interesting. hope you enjoy! my sideblog is @chachkisalpaca - and frey is an angel for beta-ing.

“Is that a hickey?” Jan asks during their improvised breakfast.

It’s still early, so there aren’t many people at the beach just yet. The Sun is up and shining bright, and Gigi is so sleep deprived she forgot about the purple spot in the crook of her neck.

Gigi shakes off the tiredness and blinks repeatedly, her cheeks getting as red as a tomato when she notices all of her friends are staring at her. She decides that there’s no point in lying and sets down her plastic cup with steaming hot coffee Jackie somehow managed to prepare.

“I had sex with someone last night,” she simply says with a shrug. The screeches from her friends hurt her ears, but she had seen them coming.

“What? When did your hoe ass get a hook up?” Brita exclaims, “Did you download fucking Tinder again, sneaked out when we were all asleep, and came back?” Gigi laughs at Brita’s incredulous tone, though she’s nervous and her cheeks are still red.

“Ew, no, you know I don’t do dating apps. That’s how my ex happened,” Gigi says, matter-of-factly, “You see, Nicky was hoarding the tent with her inflatable mattress—”

“Hey! I did ask you if you wanted to sleep with me!” Nicky complains, folding her arms, though a laugh fights to escape her mouth.

“Yeah, and I told you my name’s not Jackie,” Gigi deadpans, and both Nicky and Jackie shut their mouths. She smiles cheekily and goes on. “Anyway, as I was saying; I left the tent, walked along the beach, found this girl all alone, talked a bit, and I guess it just happened.”

She purposely leaves out that the girl was no one other than Crystal, and they entered the sea, floating near the shore until, much like Gigi predicted it, she fell off the board and Crystal had to drag her back to the shore. The fabric of her tank top stuck to her skin, making her shiver like crazy, and Crystal tried to help her warm up, she really did — but one thing led to another, and before Gigi knew it, Crystal was sucking on her neck as her hands pinned her down.

The girls holler, not believing what they’re hearing. All of them say some sort of variation of there’s no way your game is that good, and Gigi just lets them talk as she sips on her coffee.

Her phone rings in her bag so she aims for it, juggling to unlock it. She bites back a smile when she sees the notification from Instagram.

@crystalandmeth has started following you.

Gigi wants to smack Crystal for having such a handle. No wonder she couldn’t find her when she searched her up after that night at the bar.

*

Scarlet vaguely scans the pool; it’s just opened and it’s still fairly early, but there are girls sunbathing, taking pictures, and some children playing by the edge of the tiny pool, splashing each other. She smiles at that. Sometimes she even likes the kids - when they’re not pushing each other into the big pool and Scarlet has to prevent a child from drowning, that is.

The hotel is medium sized, but since it’s the summer, there’s not a room that’s not booked. She knows. Her mothers have owned it for the last twenty years. She grew up running around the halls and with the noise of the tourists settling in their rooms, dragging their suitcases with big smiles plastered across their faces.

Though her mothers have insisted that she didn’t have to work at the hotel during the summer if she didn’t want to, Scarlet had decided to fill the position of lifeguard for the morning shift until they find someone else. It’s not as if she minds, anyway; she has nothing better to do, since all of her friends traveled outside the country for their vacations, leaving her stuck in the island. That’s the downside of being friends with stuck up rich kids, she supposes.

She tells a few kids to stop running, brings back a volleyball that ended up landing on the deep side of the pool, and that’s about it, for the most part. The morning shift is very laid back; the pool usually gets crowded during the afternoon, but that’s Adore and Courtney’s problem.

Lunch time rolls around before she notices it, and she closes the pool with a relieved sigh, immediately going to the cafeteria.

Scarlet picks a frozen burrito and asks one of the ladies working at the cafeteria if they can pretty please heat it up with the nice microwave they have in the kitchen. Belinda rolls her eyes with a playful smile and squeezes Scarlet’s cheek before complying with her wishes.

“Damn, I didn’t know we could ask to use the good microwave,” a voice pipes up from her side. Scarlet giggles and turns around to look at whoever said that.

She’s met with the sight of a gorgeous woman with pink wavy hair. Scarlet licks her lips before answering.

“Oh, no, that’s uh, that’s staff privilege.” She shrugs, and the woman clicks her tongue, visibly disappointed. Scarlet looks at her plate and cocks an amused brow when she sees the bland vegetarian sandwich. “I don’t think you’ll need the microwave now, though,” she points out, nudging at her plate, and the woman stifles a laugh.

“Ah, that, yeah. This is all my stomach can handle right now — one of my friends got a little too carried away doing the drinks last night,” she comments, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Scarlet chuckles, she knows the feeling.

“Hangover food? Been there. I’m a little bolder though, I prefer French fries with a lot of ketchup,” she replies, just when Belinda hands her back her burrito. Scarlet blows a kiss her way and turns her attention back to the woman, slightly biting her lip before speaking. “D’you wanna sit together? I mean, unless you’re waiting for your friends.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m not waiting for them, I’d be stuck here for hours if I was,” she dismisses it with a wave of her hand and laughs. Scarlet thinks she has a pretty laugh. “I’m Yvie.”

“I’m Scarlet,” she introduces herself with a shiny smile.

*

Crystal sighs as she juggles her phone, struggling to put it on speaker as she currently is trying to make a decent lunch — never mind the fact it’s four p.m. and she skipped breakfast to sleep in.

She finally manages to put it on speaker and Vanessa’s voice fills the room, her tone far too annoyed and one Crystal’s grown to know all too well.

“Can you believe it, Crys? She’s but a child, and the bitch is almost thirty! I’m disgusted,” Vanessa rants, and Crystal almost snaps her optic nerve with the way she rolls her eyes.

“Vanj, hold the fuck up. Plastique is twenty two, in case you didn’t know, and Brooke is still twenty seven; the gap isn’t that big,” Crystal says. “’Sides, you two broke up last year, it’s obvious that she has moved on. So why don’t you focus on your hot bodybuilder girlfriend before I steal her off you.” She smiles cheekily when Vanessa gasps offended on the other side of the line.

“Hey! Plastic, Plastique, or whatever her name is, looks like a fucking teenager. How was I supposed to know?” She defends herself; Crystal can almost see her folding her arms with a childish pout. “Kameron is doing some gigs in California, photographing for an ice skating tour or some shit. She’s busy, but I did invite her for the competition.”

“Ajá.” Crystal is more focused in her lunch, making sure to cut the pepper as thin as possible. She knows it would’ve been easier to just order takeout, buy a soda from the drugstore around the corner, and settle in the couch and watch some garbage TV, but sometimes she misses the taste of a home cooked meal.

Vanessa goes on, talking her ear off about Kameron and how happy she is with her. She rolls her eyes; for someone in a happy relationship she sure talks a lot about her ex.

“…But that’s enough ‘bout me. What happened with you last night? Jaida came back way before you, bitch, and you reeked of sex. Like, you could barely walk straight, and you weren’t that shit faced. Spill, Glass,” Vanessa changes the topic, and Crystal nearly cuts her finger with the knife.

Her cheeks heat up when she remembers what happened at the beach with Gigi. Crystal doesn’t know if telling her to take off her soaked clothes on a whim had been a good or a bad idea, but she doesn’t regret anything — even if she still has sand in her scalp.

She clears her throat before speaking, glad that Vanessa can’t see her awfully red cheeks.

“Well, uh, remember Smoothie Girl?” she begins, throwing the pepper in the cooking pot. Vanessa musters an affirmative response. Crystal breathes in deeply. “So, like, Jaida and I finish our thing, and she tells me we should stop sleeping around, and I got excited, thinking she wanted to go on a date or something like that. But no, she actually meant that in a literal way, and naturally, I had already embarrassed myself,” Crystal rants with a groan. Vanessa just listens, “So, she left and I just. Stared at the water I guess. Then Smoothie Girl appeared out of nowhere, shit happened, one thing led to another, and suddenly I was pinning her to the ground.”

There’s silence on Vanessa’s end for what seems like an eternity, and Crystal proceeds to cut the chicken in tiny cubes, trying to not let her nerves get the best of her. She expected Vanessa to screech so loud she’d end up deaf.

“So, what you’re tryin’ to tell me is that your cheesy ass got ditched, and instead of moping around for a week, you went and slept with someone else right after?” She inquires slowly, as if she’s talking to an infant. Crystal rolls her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit, Glass,” Vanessa declares calmly, “There’s no way in hell. You’re bullshitting me. You’ve been chasing Jaida Eleanor Hall’s ass for two years now—”

“Hey! That’s not true. It’s been a year and a half,” Crystal defends herself.

“—a year and a half, and you didn’t feel the least bit heartbroken? Really?”

Crystal shrugs, but soon realizes that’s stupid; Vanessa can’t see her.

“Vanj, you act as if I was in love with Jaida, to begin with,” she points out, perching herself against the countertop for a moment. “The girl was hot, I won’t deny it, and the sex was great — but, like, I told you I didn’t think we’d ever be something serious. I don’t hold any grudges against her.” And it’s true. Crystal’s disappointment at the moment had been magnified by the fact she made a fool of herself by misunderstanding what Jaida meant, and the alcohol usually made her a more sensitive person, if that was even possible.

Vanessa stays silent for a moment yet again, until she hears a loud sigh and some rumbling. Crystal frowns as she throws the chicken to the cooking pot, turning up the flames.

“Alright, I believe you, Glass. Now tell me, you and Smoothie Girl…?” She leaves the sentence hanging, prompting Crystal to complete it.

She laughs shortly, before checking her phone and seeing a notification from Instagram. She grins cheekily, wondering if Gigi had waited so long to follow her on purpose.

*

Jaida takes a spoonful of ice cream, trying not to choke with laughter at Monique’s re-telling of the previous night. She’d been gone for a short while, though apparently that didn’t prevent shit from going down.

“You should’ve seen Vanessa’s face when Brooke left with Plastique, oh my God, it was priceless,” Monique tells her, as enthusiastic as ever. Her ice cream melts more and more with every second that passes, but she can’t bring herself to care. Except when Monét tries to steal some of it, apparently. “Girl, had I known the bitch was that bold, I wouldn’t have invited her. I’d like her to still be alive by the end of the week.”

“Hey now, it’s not her fault Vanessa isn’t over Brooke,” Monét cuts in, “Plastique hardly knew any of y’all. She may not even know Brooke is Vanessa’s ex.”

Jaida hums in agreement, her mouth still full of ice cream. The three of them are staying at the same hotel, and they’re lucky enough there’s a good ice cream shop around the corner, so they decided to take the day off and just hang out. Not that the hangover allowed them to do anything else in the first place.

“Also, Vanessa’s a grown woman; I don’t think she goes around pitching fights because her ex’s over her, she’s better than that,” Jaida adds, wiping the rests of ice cream off her face.

Monét and Monique agree with her, and the conversation drifts to various topics, though Jaida notices they’re making an effort not to bring Crystal up. She appreciates it, because right now that’s a can of worms she rather not open.

It’s not that she regrets being with her, it’s more like she hates herself for dragging their thing for so long, and by the way Crystal bit her tongue and nodded wordlessly when she told her she rather stop this, she can tell she hurt her — at least to some degree, because the rest of the night she’d acted as if nothing happened and everything was cool. Jaida doesn’t know if it was faked or not.

Monét and Monique start to argue about something, probably about how they’re not going to be easy on each other just because they’re girlfriends now; they go way too fast for her to catch up, especially since she’s still eating her frost mint ice cream and can’t be bothered about their relationship right now — she hears about it on the daily, anyway.

Jaida brings the spoon to her lips when she looks past Monique’s shoulder, looking at the entrance of shop, and she freezes for a moment. She blinks repeatedly, until she knows for real this is not her eyes deceiving her; the same woman as last night is seating near the entrance with someone else, chatting and laughing and looking even prettier in the daylight.

She squints, trying to remember her name; Jen, was it? She’s pretty sure she heard her friend say it, but she can’t remember that well.  

Jaida pulls her gaze away when she realizes she’s staring, and tries to focus on whatever Monét and Monique are talking about. But soon she feels someone looking at her, and she steals a glance at the girl out of the corner of her eye; she finds that she’s staring back at her, but she quickly withdraws her gaze.

Jaida smiles against the spoon. She doesn’t question how is it possible she ran into her again, especially considering the island is big and the chances of seeing her again were slim. Perhaps it’s a coincidence.

“I’m telling you, ‘Nét, this bitch had an edgy phase!” Monique exclaims, tugging at Jaida’s arm, causing her to accidentally throw a good chunk of ice cream on her blouse. Monique stays still for a moment as Jaida fumbles with the tissue paper. “I’m sorry, girl,” she says, with her tone so high pitched and full of regret, Jaida finds it hard to get mad at her.

She sighs dramatically, leaving the tissues aside and standing up. “Don’t worry, sis, it’s no big deal. I can wash this, anyway.” She shrugs. “Though I’m expecting you to buy me a pina colada next time we hit the bar,” she teasingly says before leaving to the bathroom.

She can hear Monét’s laugh and the smack Monique gives her on the arm, pitching the blame for Jaida’s ruined blouse on her. Sometimes Jaida swears neither one of them knows the volume of their own voices.

She wets a tissue and gets the ice cream off her skin before it gets sticky. The bathroom is tinier than she expected, but at least there’s no one else.

Or so she thought.

“Sweet baby Jesus, Nicole, how did you manage to burn the eggs?” a voice speaks from one of the stalls, and Jaida jumps a little.

A woman comes out from one the three stalls, holding her phone in the crook of her neck as she washes her hands. Jaida stiffs a little when she notices it’s the girl from the beach. Jen (or Jan), apparently, remembers her too, because she stops for a moment when she sees her, biting her lower lip before speaking again.

“Nicks, just, don’t touch anything else from the kitchen. Jackie and I will come back in a moment — please don’t listen neither Gigi nor Brita, they’re as bad cooks as you, 'kay?” She hangs up and sighs loudly, drying her hands before putting the phone back in the pocket of her shorts.

“That’s quite an interesting daycare you got there,” Jaida comments lightheartedly, throwing the tissues to the trash. The woman chuckles, turning to see her.

“Keeping toddlers in their twenties alive is my passion,” she deadpans, playing with the hem of her shirt. Jaida laughs shortly. “I’ve heard they’re easier to take care of once they’re thirty,” she comments with a cheeky smile, making Jaida laugh again.

“I wouldn’t have my hopes up if I were you,” Jaida replies, checking herself in the mirror and making sure she’s wiped off all the ice cream

She sucks in a quick breath, looking back at the woman, who’s perched against the sink, texting someone.

“Hey,” she says, catching her attention. “This probably sounds crazy, but is there any chance you were at O'Ahu beach last night, looking for a ball, maybe?” Jaida wonders, and almost right away she sees Jen (or Jan) cheeks lit up.

“Oh, Jesus, I was hoping you wouldn’t remember me. That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry.” She covers her face with her hands and Jaida laughs softly, coming some steps closer.

“Girl, it’s fine, for real,” she assures her, and Jen (or Jan) slowly uncovers her face. The rosy tone in her cheeks makes her look cute. She bites her lower lip before continuing. “I did mean it when I said I can’t be mad at a pretty girl.”

Jen (or Jan) smiles sheepishly and laugh, tucking a strand of lose hair behind her ear.

“Well, I meant it too when I said you’re not so bad yourself. I didn’t mean to finger gun you, though.”

Jaida laughs, and for a moment she forgets she has to go back to Monét and Monique. They strike up a conversation, and Jaida learns that her name is Jan and not Jen, and that she blushes a deep shade of red whenever she compliments her in any way. Jaida thinks she’s the cutest girl she’s ever met.

[ao3feed-narumitsu]

falling into place

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XjvJAL

by LoganStark

Trucy Wright is so much like her father that it is absolutely no surprise she has Miles Edgeworth in the palm of her hand. It's also no surprise that she is thoroughly fed up with her daddy and her unofficial father beating around the bush.

Words: 5451, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Naruhodou Minuki | Trucy Wright

Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Additional Tags: Getting Together, basically i wanted an excuse for miles to get in his feels about how similar trucy and phoenix are, Miles Dadworth, First Kiss, Confused Phoenix Wright, fluff all over the place, self indulgent fluff really, set kinda vaguely during the last few years of 7 year gap, Seven Year Gap (Gyakuten Saiban), fuck you manfred von karma miles turned out to be a GREAT dad no thanks T YOU

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XjvJAL This is an automatic feed of all new stories posted to the Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright tag on AO3. Because of that, it is not guaranteed that Miles and Phoenix are the main characters in the story, nor the only ship. Please verify content upon clicking through to AO3.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Sucker (for you)

Keanu Reeves x Reader 

-loosely inspired by the song Sucker, cause the Jonas Brothers and why not. Also Halsey’s version was amazing too. So yeah. Not sure if you wanted to be warned, but there’s vaguely implied age gap.

Her hair products were scattered here and there around the master bathroom. In his bedroom, she had left over a few articles of clothing, not a lot really, just a few things to choose from if she spent the night. These days, she spent a lot of nights at his place.

Y/n. The things he’d do for her. It might have been easier to count what he wouldn’t do for her. Come to think of it, there wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t do for her. Some had said she hand him under her thumb, called him a sucker.  ‘Some’ being the tabloids that liked to gossip about anything and everything. Maybe he was a sucker, they had met merely five months ago and from the minute he saw her, Keanu knew that she was different, which was a totally cliché thing to think. Maybe it was the way that she didn’t really care about what people thought about her, or the two of them being together. Maybe it was because he had seen a passion and fire in her that he had never seen in anyone else in a long time. Y/n had a way with words that other people usually didn’t, she said what was on her mind and stood up for the things she believed in. She was bold and brave, while still being one of the kindest women he had ever met, she was gorgeous, and damn well knew it, but never felt it was necessary to flaunt it. Y/n was all of these things and more, and well, he loved her.

***

Keanu had texted her saying that he wanted to go out that night. He didn’ t say where or what he wanted to do. Just that she should dress appropriately because they were taking one of his bikes and that he would be at her place by seven. Y/n loved when he took charge like this and his surprises never failed to disappoint her. Excited and almost bursting with anticipation, she got ready in a pair of faded blue jeans, a grey blouse, the leather jacket he had bought her the month before and a pair of ankle boots. 

As promised, Keanu was at her place by seven pm. She greeted him at the door and he kissed her hastily, ready for them to leave. “What’s the rush babe?“ She giggled as he tried to pull her towards the elevator before she had even removed the key from the door.

“I’m just can’t wait, you know. Tonight is important.” During the elevator ride down he kept tapping is foot and fiddling with the edge of his jacket. When they reached the apartment parking lot, Y/n had to jog to keep up with Keanu’s long strides. 

“Hey.” She took his hand when he went to put the helmet on her, “What’s going on. You’re so...antsy.” There really wasn’t another word she could think of to describe his behavior. 

“Am I?” He ran his hand though his hair. “Just nerves I guess.” He stopped for a minute as if thinking of the right words to say, “You know I love you right?” She nodded, smiling, “And you, you mean a lot too me. I’d do anything for you. Now, tomorrow, whenever. Whatever” He emphasized. 

Y/n tilted her head, regarding him curiously, “I know. I love you too Keanu. And I’d do anything for you too. But I don’t understand where this is coming form.”

He kissed her, passionate and hard, their lips as if it were the last time their lips would ever meet. When they broke apart, he smiled down at her in his arms, “I know. And I know we’ve been going pretty fast, but I want you to know that all of its real.” They had been going fast, exchanging ‘I love yous’ after they had been together for only a month. He had opened up to her in a way that he hadn’t with anyone in years and she had already taken him to meet her parents. 

“I know all of that.” She kissed him quickly, “Now come on, I wanna see what this top secret date is about,” She teased before taking the helmet from his hand and putting it on herself. He fastened the straps on her chin and put on his own. They both got on the bike and instinctively, Y/n wound her arms tightly around him, securely herself safely against him.

***

They rode for a while, the sound of the wind being the only thing either of them heard for a while. He only stopped when the sound of waves were clear, parking the bike near some other vehicles. Removing her helmet, Y/n tired to rectify the mess that it had left with her hands. “Ready?” Keanu held out his hand.

“Yupp.” She said when she was satisfied. She took his hand and they walked on the sidewalk for a while, stopping at a restaurant. He pushed the door open and let her enter first. “ I remember this place,” She smiled widely taking in the surroundings. “We came on our first date here.” 

“We did.” The place was for the most part open all around, to allow customers to enjoy the sea breeze. Tables were scattered all around, with diners sat on cozy looking wicker chairs. Keanu led her to a table at the outer most end that looked over the railing out to the sea. “That was a great night, its too bad we don’t come more often.” They were both usually so busy with work that it was hard to plan an evening that involved more than the movies or take out on the couch. 

“It is, but the fact that we don’t makes it a lot more special when we actually do.” She smiled, looking out at the water, “Besides, I kind of love how low maintenance our relationship is. Take out and Netflix happens to be one of my favorite things to do.” 

Soon, a waiter came to their table and took their orders. Their food came quickly after and they ate over wine and conversation. The couple even stayed a while after their table was cleared, just enjoying the other’ s company. “So, do you remember what we did after dinner on our first date?” Keanu raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if she remembered.

“Of course I do, we went for a walk along the shore. Do you want to go for one now?” She asked, ready to stand and get moving.

***

They had been walking hand in hand, not speaking, instead listening to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The sun had almost completely set by now, leaving the sky with a orange glow. They had both taken off their shoes and Y/n had insisted that they walk where the water could touch their feet. 

The beach was mostly empty and the air around them had cooled significantly. When they reached a point were there was absolutely no one but the two of them around, Keanu stopped. “What?” Y/n asked, confused by the abrupt pause in their stroll. 

“I have to tell you something.” He said, moving to stand in front of her. They placed their stuff in the sand, far enough from the water and he continued, “Y/n, I’m in love with you. And I was serious about everything I said before we left your building this evening. And I’m serious about you. You’re the most amazing woman I‘ve ever met. You’re funny and brave and so fucking beautiful. I’ve changed a lot over the past five months, and it’s because of you.” He hesitated, making sure he was using the right words, he wanted this to be as perfect as she was, “For a long time, its been just me and I was fine with that, but the night we came here together, I knew I never wanted to be alone again. I wanted to be with you. And I don’t care how everyone thinks of us, and I know you don’t either. Y/n I am, in the truest sense a sucker for you.” Then he did it, the thing that knocked the breath out of her and brought tears to her eyes. Keanu got down on one knee, right there in the sand and took a velvet box out of his jacket pocket, “And I would be absolutely, completely honored if you’d marry me.”

Y/n giggled and happy tears blurred her vision, “It would be my pleasure and an absolute fucking joy to be your wife Keanu.” She laughed and he did two. He slipped onto her finger the most beautiful diamond engagement right Y/n had ever seen before standing up to embrace her. As they kissed, he gently spun her around. “I love you so much.” She mumbled  between kisses.

“I love you to,” He said against her lips, “And I’m so happy that you so unconventionally said yes.” They kissed again and after a while she set her down, keeping his arm around her shoulders as they walked back to his bike.

“You wouldn't happen to remember what happened after we finished our walk on our first date, would you?” Y/n smiled suggestively.

“How could I forget?” He kissed her again, and then helped her with the helmet, “Come on, I can’t wait to get home with you.” He winked before putting on his. 

They rode back to his place, both not only filled with anticipation of what was in their very, very near future, but also of what was to come now that they decided that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

[ao3feed-wrightworth]

falling into place

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XjvJAL

by LoganStark

Trucy Wright is so much like her father that it is absolutely no surprise she has Miles Edgeworth in the palm of her hand. It's also no surprise that she is thoroughly fed up with her daddy and her unofficial father beating around the bush.

Words: 5451, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Naruhodou Minuki | Trucy Wright

Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Additional Tags: Getting Together, basically i wanted an excuse for miles to get in his feels about how similar trucy and phoenix are, Miles Dadworth, First Kiss, Confused Phoenix Wright, fluff all over the place, self indulgent fluff really, set kinda vaguely during the last few years of 7 year gap, Seven Year Gap (Gyakuten Saiban), fuck you manfred von karma miles turned out to be a GREAT dad no thanks T YOU

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XjvJAL

[gone4neow]

The New King ♔ dks

Chapter Eight

- kyungsoo x reader, royalty AU, prince!kyungsoo

- warnings : swearing, mature content, arranged marriage, death, family drama, mentions of seho

- word count : 2,639

chapter seven or chapter nine or masterlist

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

The ride to the princess’s home kingdom was the longest of her life. Every second there was a voice in the back of her reminding her that her father could very well be gone before she arrived. So, a fresh tear would escape the confines of her eyes with every passing minute. Sehun sat stiffly, eyeing the weeping princess with a glum expression on his face. He wanted to help her, but he wasn’t sure how. He had never had to comfort anyone like this before. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized how blessed he had been.

When they arrived, the princess didn’t wait for the driver to open her carriage door and instead took it upon herself to open it before they had even came to a complete stop. Sehun followed after her quickly, instructing one of the servants waiting for them to collect their things and bring them inside. The princess ran through the castle as if her own life depended on it. The stairs didn’t even slow her down; she bounded up them as if they weren’t even there. The prince followed her with a racing heartbeat. He wasn’t out of shape but he certainly wasn’t used to running at this speed.

Eventually, the princess came to a stop in front of a large set of doors. There were designs painted on them, but the paint was faded. It wasn’t an elegant design at all - in fact, it was sloppy brushwork. The princess took deep breaths as she let her eyes take in the sight of the familiar doors. For months she had been preparing herself for this day, but now that it had arrived she realized there was no way that she would ever be ready to face this reality. Sehun approached her with cautious footsteps. He rested his hand gently on her shoulder when he was next to her, causing her soft eyes to glance up at him.

“You should go inside,” he told her quietly. His words seemed to make her breathing quicken. She knew she should enter her father’s room but she also knew that she wasn’t ready to handle the pain that would come when she did so.

“Will you go with me?” She pleaded in a fearful voice.

“Are you sure?” Sehun asked quietly, knowing this would be one of the last chances for the princess to be alone with her father.

“I can’t do it alone, Sehun,” she cried.

“You won’t have to. I’ll be there with you every second of the way,” he assured her. She gave him a sad, thankful smile before she let her small hand slip into his. With one last sharp breath, the princess pushed forward.

Her father’s room looked as it had since she was a younger girl. There were paintings scattered all over the walls, books sitting on various pieces of furniture, and candles lit all around. The difference now was that the room was cold and the atmosphere was gloomy. The princess felt Sehun squeeze her hand comfortingly as their eyes landed on her father’s frail figure laying in bed. She could see his chest rise and fall ever so often, but he looked lifeless. She approached his side slowly. When his eyes found hers she couldn’t help but let out a small sob.

“You made it,” her father whispered weakly. She nodded and dropped down to her knees. Sehun followed suit, bowing his head as he did so. The King reach for his daughter’s free hand, cradling it tenderly in his own. He hated to see his daughter so sad, and because of this his own features seemed to grow glum.

“I’m glad you two are here together,” her father revealed with a small smile.

“Were you worried we wouldn’t be?” The princess asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I was worried we had forced you into the wrong marriage,” he confessed.

“Your daughter is safe with me, sir,” Sehun spoke now, his voice low and assuring. The king’s eyes met his and there seemed to be an unspoken conversation between the two.

“That’s not what I was worried about,” the king told them.

“Then what?” The princess wondered.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be able to find love in each other.”

The three continued to talk for the rest of the evening. The king grew weaker with every hour, but he assured the pair that he was okay. They talked about everything - from the weather to their favorite memories. They shared laughs and many tears, but it was everything that the king wanted before he passed away. He was comforted by the fact that the princess was marrying a man he approved of. When night came, he announced that he was tired. The princess took both of his hands in hers and held them tightly.

“It’s okay to sleep now dad,” she whispered.

“I need to tell you one last thing,” he told her weakly. She gave his hands a gentle squeeze, silently urging him to continue speaking.

“There’s someone very important residing in the northern kingdom. You need to find him,” her father’s voice came out as a soft whisper but she heard every word.

“Who?” She asked urgently.

“You will know when the time is right,” he answered vaguely. She wanted more answers. She needed more answers.

His eyes met hers for the last time. His eyelids closed a few seconds later. Minutes passed and the princess felt as if years had. Her father’s breathing came to a halt. She had never cried so loudly before in her life. There were ugly sobs leaving her body. Her shoulders shook erratically as she cried. Sehun wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest for comfort. It was hard to watch the princess go through something so difficult and not be able to help in any way. He couldn’t help but shed a few tears himself.

The queen revealed herself for the first time that day. She swung one of the doors open, only to shut it back once she had confirmed the death of her husband. She announced his death to a few of the nurses in one, shaky breath. They bursted through the doors seconds later to retrieve the king’s body. The princess wanted to object, but she was pulled away by Sehun before she could get one syllable to roll from her tongue. The prince led the grieving woman past her mother and down the hall. He didn’t know where he was going, but he must have been going in the right direction because the princess didn’t correct him. She tugged on his shirt once he approached a door with flowers painted all over it. He led her inside, making sure to shut the door behind him quietly.

“Stay?” Was all the princess could manage to say once they were inside. Sehun didn’t have the heart to say no. Within seconds, they were sitting on the bed in a comforting embrace. The princess hid her face in the prince’s chest and he ran his fingers through her hair as they rested. They did this until they both drifted off into a deep slumber.

The princess woke up before Sehun did. They had somehow managed to end up on different sides of the bed during their sleep, with Sehun’s feet pressed against the small of her back. He looked so peaceful as he slept and the princess couldn’t bother to wake him up after seeing such a sight. She climbed out of bed and made her way into the bathroom to get ready for the worst day of her life.

By noon, both the princess and the prince were awake and ready to go. They had gotten some breakfast (though the princess couldn’t eat much), went to the garden to pick flowers, and made their way to the small chapel inside the castle all in an hour. The chapel was busier than it had been in a long time. The were guards, nights, royal friends, family, and even some important figures from the village gathered around in the room. Everyone’s eyes seemed to find the princess when she entered the room. Her hand was intertwined with Sehun’s as she walked towards her father’s casket. Today, the princess didn’t cry. She held it in so that the people who looked up to her as their future ruler wouldn’t pity her as much as they seemed to already. She rested the fresh picked flowers on top of the wooden casket before Sehun led her over to some chairs. They sat and listened to the reverend preach about life - more specifically, the king’s life. Sehun was fascinated to learn about the princess’s father. He regretted not trying to get to know the man better while he had the chance. He understood, now, where the princess had gotten her personality from.

When the funeral was coming to a close, the queen decided to join the pair. She sat next to her daughter and rested a hand on the princess’s arm.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” The queen told her.

“I’m surprised to see you here. You have some nerve, mother,” the princess replied sharply.

“Be careful with how you talk to me. Now that your father’s gone, a lot will be different,” The queen warned as she lifted her nose higher in the air. The princess didn’t have the energy to argue with her mother. She stood up and began to walk off. The prince followed after her, glancing at her mother as he did so. Just as he went to call for the princess to wait on him, the queen called out the princess’s name. Both the prince and princess turned to look at the woman with raised eyebrows.

“I know you’ll want to keep some of your father’s things, but I’m afraid that will not be permitted. Until you are married, this kingdom belongs to me. That means everything belongs to me,” the queen informed her. The princess scoffed in disbelief. She opened her mouth to reply, but was surprised to find the prince had beat her to it.

“What kind of cruel, vile woman would try to pick a fight with her grieving daughter? If I hear another word come from your mouth then I will do everything I can to make the rest of your life a living hell. In fact, you shouldn’t do anything but sit there and think about how pathetic you are for trying to start an argument on a day like this,” he spat at her angrily. The princess’s eyes widened at his words. She called his name after a moment and he turned to join her. They walked off, leaving the queen to gap at their retreating figures.

They made their way back to her room. The princess sat in her beloved window seat, watching the sunset through her large window. The prince laid on her bed with his arm laid over his eyes. They were both exhausted.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” the princess spoke in a quiet voice after sitting in lonesome silence.

“I was told to take care of you,” Sehun breathed out. His words made her heartbeat quicken. She missed Kyungsoo terribly. There was no where in the world she’d rather be in that moment than in his arms. A deep frown formed on her face and Sehun uncovered his eyes just in time to catch the expression.

“My brother... I’ve never seen him hold someone the way he held you before we left. I’ve never seen him so protective of someone, either.”

The princess’s head snapped in the direction of the prince. She watched as he sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he propped his chin in his hands. His eyes watched her closely and she knew that if he wasn’t suspicious before, he was now.

“I’m flattered,” she confessed lamely. He raised an eyebrow at this.

“You should be. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was in love with you. I’ve seen his lingering stares, his nervous habits when you’re near, even those flustered cheeks of his when you look in his direction-“

“Kyungsoo doesn’t love me,” the princess interrupted.

“I think he does,” Sehun argued.

“What do you want me to say?” The princess asked. Suddenly she was picking at the skin around her fingernails and glancing towards the window with a newfound nervousness. The prince wasn’t the most clever man but he wasn’t blind. It was as if he had just found the last piece to the puzzle he had been working on.

“You love him,” the prince concluded. The princess looked away from him completely. Could she admit this to Sehun? She listened as he laughed - whether he was amused or angry, she wasn’t sure.

“My fiancée and my brother are in love!” He said to himself, as if it were the best thing he had ever heard.

“Don’t say that!” The princess snapped at him. She turned to scowl at him. She wasn’t upset at him, but she was upset that she had been caught.

“I have to ask... does he know you love him? Have you both told each other that you love one another? My god, have you kissed my brother? Princess, you and I kissed! That’s like kissing my brother!” Sehun seemed to lose his mind all at once. The princess rushed from her seat and made her way over to kneel in front of the prince. She placed her hands on his knees and looked up at him with an apologetic expression.

“Sehun, I haven’t kissed you since the first time I kissed your brother. I swear on it-“

“You did kiss my brother!”

“Well, yes-“

“You’re in love with him?”

“Yes, but-“

“Oh. My. God.”

“Listen-“

“I can’t believe this.”

“Listen!” The princess seemed to get his attention as she shouted. He looked at her with wide eyes. She didn’t want to know what scandalous ideas were floating through his mind at the moment.

“I wanted to love you, I really did, but it didn’t happen. With Kyungsoo... it wasn’t forced. It just happened. I’m sorry,” The princess spoke slowly, hoping to make sure every word she said was remembered.

“Can I confess a truth of my own?” The prince asked as he placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders. She nodded.

“I’m in love with the baker’s son,” he whispered. It was the first time he had admitted it to anyone but himself. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The princess’s eyes widened again.

“You are?” She asked in surprise. He nodded enthusiastically and began to laugh. She joined him, much to her surprise, and they laughed together for a few minutes. It felt good to laugh after all the sadness she had felt for the past two days. They held each other as they rolled around on the bed with excitement.

“Does he know?” The princess asked once their laughter had died down. They laid on their sides with their heads propped up in their hands while they stared at one another.

“No. I assume my brother knows if you’ve been sucking his face off,” the prince replied.

“We care about one another but we’ve been trying to figure everything out,” The princess answered him.

“When we return home, go to him and tell him you love him,” Sehun told her. She felt herself become flustered.

“Then you have to go tell your man you love him too,” she replied playfully. He held up a pinky. She eyed it with a lazy smile on her face. She wrapped her own around his and they shared another session of giggles. It was like they were a couple of teenage girls.

a/n : hi!! thanks for reading my story. sorry for the sad chapter! i hope i made up for it by including some grace x sehun interactions. they’re really the cutest babies and i love them... thanks for reading!! hope you enjoyed this chapter <33