#we have different areas of expertise. and while I’m the last person to say that’s all there is to it you can learn

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

sometimes I think the main reason people spread historical misinformation is because they’re embarrassed that there were people in the past who were smarter than they were.

[plague-of-insomnia]

Ch 197 : Send in the Clones

This is a short chapter. Finny and Snake are led from the outside by Susan, one of the young staff members, who teases/flirts with Snake about his relationship with Doll before introducing them to the Collie class. They made bath salts the day before and today are making pound cake with orange marmalade, instructed by an older woman staff member.

While we’re here, we meet a few more of the children at the orphanage, and more parallels begin to emerge.

We’ve already met Theo, the “Ciel” clone, and Jenny, one of the kids from the outdoorsy Corgi class in chapter 196, so now we get to meet three more, who parallel the other servants: Sebastian, Mey Rin, and Bard.

Oliver (オリバー), Mey Rin’s Doppleganger, Collie Class

It’s possible Oliver is a boy, but it isn’t explained. (Oliver does use 僕, boku, the same first-person pronoun Our Ciel does, and a common one for young boys.) Oliver is also very shy and tends to stutter when they speak, like Mey. Oliver has a strong aptitude for domestic tasks like embroidery, and seems very close/clingy with Daniel, the Bard clone, and always seems to be apologizing.

Artie (アーティ), Sebastian’s Doppleganger, Mastiff Class

Artie is the oldest in his class and impresses Finny and Snake with elegant manners and speech, just like a high-ranking servant like a butler. He keeps some of the other kids in line (like the Bard clone Daniel), and also seems to know more than he initially lets on about “fledgling day” (the day that the kids leave the orphanage, supposedly). He also uses the same pronoun as Sebastian, 私, Watashi.

Daniel (ダニエル), Bard’s Doppleganger, Collie Class

Daniel is definitely a boy (or he sees himself as one, anyway), as he complains about having to dress like a girl and do “woman’s work,” in much the same way that Bard complained to Seb when he first joined the servants. And like then, he’s given a stern talking to about cooking and other domestic tasks not being the sole domain of women. (He even uses the same pronoun, オレ/俺, ore, as Bard.)

I can’t say yet what the significance of these parallels are yet, but they’re definitely one of the most important aspects of this chapter. The other one has to do with a term that’s repeated over and over this arc—

「巣立ちの日」, literally “leaving the nest day,” or what I’m calling “Fledgling Day.”

It’s the day that the eldest in each class “ages out” of the orphanage and presumably goes on to the world to work as a servant in their area of expertise, and is a day of celebration. When Artie first talks about it in this chapter, it’s while lecturing Daniel about needing to be prepared with skills when he leaves the orphanage one day.

However, only a few pages later, Susan, one of the staff, announces that Jenny, the girl we met last chapter who was afraid of horses, is having her “Fledgling Day.”

This is sudden and surprising news that almost everyone seems excited about—except for Artie and Oliver. The latter is so shocked that they forget to tend the marmalade they’re making and it begins to boil and burn—and I wonder if that juxtaposition is intentionally ominous as to why they’re so concerned about this news.

On the last page of the chapter, Artie murmurs about how this can’t be, it’s too sudden, genuinely horrified. Does he know that “failures” are disposed of? It’s giving me even stronger Promised Neverland vibes now…

Another interesting element is that Snake seems oblivious to their different reaction, but not Finny. Could it be because of his own experience as a test subject that he can recognize what it means to have failures “disposed of”?

I wonder if Oliver and Artie may become allies to Finny and Snake, and if we may be horrorfied (ala the bone prosthesis in the circus arc) once we learn more about what Undertaker is doing with all these kids…

~#~

As always please be respectful of the work I’ve put into my translations and don’t use my translations or screenshots without credit.

I’m also human and I make mistakes, so apologies in advance if there are any.

[unfoldingmoments]

Should You Listen To Your Wife?

In a world of equality, why bother?

DOVID FELDMAN

JUL 21

In today’s chaotic marriage environment, men and women often find themselves torn between traditional gender roles that they may have witnessed growing up and society’s push towards egalitarianism.

In such a confusing time, who’s the boss in the relationship?

Are men still the leaders of the home? Or are you two equal partners? 50/50? Maybe there is no leader? And if that’s the case, perhaps you shouldn’t listen to your wife because her perspective is no better than yours?

To cut to the chase, as every married man knows, it’s not whether you should or shouldn’t. It’s YOU BETTER!

To understand why, we have to go back to the very first wife – Eve.

In the beginning, Gd created man. And Gd saw that it was not good for man to be alone. So, what did God do? He could have created another man! But he didn’t. If so, there would have been two people eating Doritos and watching TV. Instead, God created women to help men by motivating and supporting them to live up to their potential. This has been the role of women ever since. Not only do they shine on their own, but they also help us men become greater than we can on our own.

On a deeper level, Kabbalah explains that while men represent Divine intellect, women represent divine intuition. This means your wife has insight and knowledge into how the world works qualitatively, which you, as a man, don’t.

This isn’t because she is better or wiser than you, but because she is different. She sees and experiences the world differently. Why wouldn’t you want access to that insight?

Years ago, our family was living in New York. I had a great job, and we lived in a nice neighborhood. But my wife sensed that something was wrong. That the spiritual and religious influence was harming our children and even me. I didn’t see it. She encouraged us to move across the country to Chicago, with better schools, homes, and spiritual community. We’ve been happy here for the last 25 years, and I’m so thankful I listened to her. These types of insights have repeated themselves over and over again in our marriage.

But just saying that you should listen to your wife isn’t enough. As a man, you are responsible for leading and guiding your family. You cannot just abdicate decision-making to your wife. Nor would she want that either. So what happens when you disagree on something? What happens when, as the leader of the home, you believe you should go right, and she says left? What happens when we disagree?

One way to understand this is through a concept called spheres of influence. Men have a masculine sphere of influence, and women tend to have a more feminine sphere of influence.

Again, based on our spiritual differences, men tend to focus on the external aspects of life—issues related to providing for the family, our spiritual path, issues of safety, and our general approach to life. Women tend to focus on the internal aspects of shared life: the home, the family, the children, how kids are doing in school, personal growth, inter-family relationships, and emotional well-being. Men see the world from the big-picture perspective, whereas women focus on the details and the specifics. When we respect each other’s expertise and honor and defer to each other’s areas of responsibility, we get the best of both worlds—the strength and wisdom of the divine masculine and the insights and connection of the divine feminine. So, should you listen to your wife? If you are smart and a bit lucky, you will marry a woman whose thoughts and feelings you will always want to hear. And this is another way that you, too, can build a great marriage!

[treeremovalpensacola]

LM Growth Summit Success Stories: The power of connections

If you live in Pensacola, it's just a matter of time that you have to do the inevitable and remove a tree. Tree Services Pensacola Florida is a tree removal company that specializes in stump grinding, tree removal, and arborist services. They have been in business for over 10 years and have the experience and expertise to get the job done right. Fully licensed and insured, so you can rest assured that your property is in good hands. Pensacola tree service is a company that specializes in removing trees. They have been doing this for over 10 years and they are really good at it. They also do stump grinding, which means they get rid of the stump left behind after the tree is removed. They are fully licensed and insured, so you can be sure that your property is in good hands. Chris Stoudt, owner of Stout Lawn Care in Pottstown, Pa., worked up a healthy to-do list before his trip to the 2023 LM Growth Summit. And while he was able to check off most of those items during the event, he says the most impactful part of his experience was a handful of takeaways that he hadn’t considered before heading to the Summit. “First, going in and meeting with the companies that sell a lot of the products that we use regularly made me more confident in the programs that I had put together,” Stoudt says. “I always suspected that what we were doing was taking the right approach, but being able to get affirmation from the vendors about that, along with a few new ideas to try, was invaluable. “But the best takeaway was probably the networking and the people I met, some from firms the same size as us and others who are bigger, which is where we’re trying to get. I met Chris Brown from Teed & Brown (Norwalk, Conn.) and the guys from Lawn RX (Brad Herrle and Shawn Rodgers) over in Pittsburgh. We still stay in touch and have our own little networking group, which is really cool.” Continuous improvement Although last year’s LM Growth Summit was his first, Stoudt has pursued professional development opportunities throughout his career. His company is a RealGreen by WorkWave customer, so he’s participated in numerous user conferences over the years and has taken advantage of local and regional events when possible. So, when a couple of his colleagues in the area recommended the Growth Summit, he was eager to attend. “I’d heard it was a good event from some vendors I know, colleagues who had gone in previous years,” he says. “And for a long time now, I’ve found that networking and putting myself out there has been good for me as a business owner and as a person too.” Stoudt says he valued the Growth Summit’s one-on-one nature, which sets it apart from other industry events. “It’s such a unique format. The one-on-one conversations and the time with vendors, really digging into problems, is invaluable,” he says. He also appreciated the fact that his fellow attendees represented lawn care companies of all shapes and sizes. “I’m a big fan of diversity in the company size. We’re not a huge company, so it was nice to meet a couple of the larger companies down there in more of an intimate setting than a user’s conference where you have thousands of people,” Stoudt says. “That’s the big difference for me, that you have more time to interact with people you want to interact with (at the Growth Summit).” Five stars, would recommend Just like other landscaping professionals did for him, Stoudt has been singing the praises of the LM Growth Summit and the value it delivered to other colleagues. If the opportunity presents itself, he says, lawn care companies need to seize it. “I think the most important thing that we can do as an industry — particularly as a small-business owner — is network,” he says. “No one has all the answers or all the newest ideas, so being able to meet others, learn how they operate and talk about their business was great. I thought it was a really unique way to elevate your business.” The post LM Growth Summit Success Stories: The power of connections first appeared on Landscape Management.

[teyvatdreams]

Hi Dani! May I request some blurbs for Kaeya, Beidou, Albedo, and Jean (separately) having an s/o who, despite having a heart of gold, doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together? They forget/lose things, ask obvious questions, or just sort of do things without thinking. They’re kind and brave and all that, they’re just kind of square-brained a lot of the time. Thanks, and have a lovely day!

i have no idea what to title this but i loved this idea

includes: kaeya, beidou, albedo, and jean

kaeya

tbh kaeya loves your… not-so-bright moments

he honestly finds them adorable

especially because when he first met you, he thought your personality was more on the serious side

he couldn’t be more wrong

whenever you’re having a moment he just sits back and enjoys the show, watching as you figure out your own problem

“wait!” you yell, stopping in your tracks.

kaeya does the same and turns to look at you. “what? you okay?”

“yeah, i just… i forgot my map.” you sigh, shoulders dropping in defeat. “i told you i would bring it and i forgot! we can’t go on this mission without it or we’ll be completely lost,” you explain.

a grin appears on kaeya’s face, and he crosses his arms. “are you sure?”

you furrow your eyebrows. “of course i’m sure! if i had it with me, i’d be looking at it right now!”

“do you remember right before we left when we stopped to talk to bennett?” kaeya asks.

you pause to think. “yeah… but what does that have to do with my map?”

“retrace your steps, love.”

you and kaeya were headings towards the entrance gates when you were stopped by the young adventurer, asking where you guys were going. you told him where, and let him join until he was pulled aside by another adventurer. he was told that some if the older guys were having arthritis problems again, so you and kaeya left without him.

“i still don’t… oh!” you reached into your back pocket and retrieved your map. “got it!”

beidou

tbh she doesn’t really notice if you ask obvious questions or ask her if she’s seen the book you’re holding in her hands

she finds it kind of endearing

and she doesn’t blame you for getting confused easily, you’re a very busy person after all

you’re so busy all the time she’s impressed you can even keep your head on straight

it wasn’t until you joined her on her ship that she started to think you didn’t have it on straight

beidou was more than excited to bring you onto her ship and introduce you to her crew. she just wasn’t really expecting to have to babysit you the whole time.

“do you guys have fishing rods? i can try to catch a fish for dinner!” you say excitedly, looking out to the sea.

“what? no,” beidou steps closer to you. “you can’t fish while we’re moving. you won’t catch anything.” she says, putting an arm around you. “i appreciate the sentiment though.”

later, when a storm started to brew, she had to drag you off the deck.

“no, let me stay!” you whine, trying to pull your hand out of her grasp. “someone has to look after the ship!”

“yeah, the people qualified for the job can do that, babe. i don’t need you getting struck by lightning…” she sighs.

she might be more aware of your silly questions not that it involves her area of expertise, but she’ll glare at anyone who looks at you funny.

“woah… are you gonna make him walk the plank?” you ask beidou after she practically shoots daggers at a crewmate with her eyes.

“the plank? no, that’s just a myth. there’s no plank walking here,” beidou replies, laughing.

albedo

don’t get him wrong

he absolutely loves you

but having you in his lab makes him a nervous wreck

he trusts your judgement for the most part

but his experiments are very tedious

and tedious is not really your forte

“oh, so i just pour this in here, right?” you ask, tilting a vial.

“n-no!” albedo, panicked, grabs it to stop the liquid from pouring out. “not this one. this one,” he says, giving you a different vial with blue liquid in it.

“right, right…” you say.

“pour it slowly—“ albedo sighs as you dump the liquid into the container in front of you.

you look at him, and then back down at the liquid. “sorry.”

he smiles. “it’s fine. nothing exploded, right? so we’re okay.”

you bite your lip, thinking. you set down the vial. “maybe this is better as a one-man-job,” you tell him with a sigh. “i think i’m doing more harm than good here.”

“no, no, no,” albedo grabs your hand. “it’s fine. you’re doing great! you just need to… uh, listen… a bit more. i’m just worried for your safety,” he says.

“right… i should pay more attention. this stuff is serious.” you grab the vial you were holding before. “is it time to add this one yet?”

albedo smiles. “unfortunately, no. that one isn’t even being added to this concoction.”

jean

jean loves and respects you very much

but whenever you go out adventuring

here anxiety skyrockets

she know you’re strong but

acting without thinking is a big problem of yours

so you usually arrive back home hurt every time

although to you, it isn’t that big of a deal

she was returning to her office after practically being dragged to the church to get treated for a headache that had lasted days when she saw you making your way there yourself, covered in scratches and bruises.

“oh my god! what happened?” she asks, putting her hands on your shoulders. “are you okay?”

you grin. “oh, i’m fine! don’t worry about me, jean.”

“but you’re all… beaten up! i shouldn’t keep you here… you should go get patched up.” she says.

“jean, really, i’m fine!” you tell her, grabbing her hand to keep her from walking away. “i’m just coming here so people don’t yell at me to get treated… it doesn’t hurt.”

“are you sure? you’re gonna be so sore tomorrow,” she points out.

“mmm, probably,” you say with a shrug. “but at least there is a tomorrow, right?”

her gaze finally softens. “alright. but… i do want to stay with you while you get bandaged up.”

[oliviayamaoka]

The Distraction Continuation (Ghostface / Jed Olsen / Danny Johnson x Reader)

As requested, this is a continuation of the Distraction fic I made. Check out the first fic if you haven’t already. Enjoy! :)

You sighed deeply as you crossed your arms, shutting your eyes in slight annoyance at what was to come. Another trial. You hadn’t been in one for a while but your break was rather short-lived. There were three others that stood by your side. Ace Visconti, David King, and Yui Kimura. You respected them and actually enjoyed their company. Ace was funny, David taught you a couple of things, and Yui was always nice to you, encouraging you.

“Where do you think we’ll go this time?” Yui asked you, nudging your elbow with her own. You instantly lit up. Human interaction was comforting.

“Haven’t been to Hawkins or Glenvale in a bit.” Y/N replied with a slight shrug.

“My bet is the asylum.” Ace interrupted, pointing finger guns with that stupid smirk of his. Yui rolled her eyes, she didn’t seem to like Ace very much. Not since he flirted with her one time, even if it was jokingly.

“We might actually be there if Ace himself says so.” David said as the familiar gust of air surrounded the four of you.

You shut your eyes tightly, getting chills from the cold fog and air. The smell of fire and spring overcame you. Y/N opened their eyes, realizing that Ace’s bet was right. As always. A small laugh escaped your lips, a feeling of enjoyment before all hell could break loose again. 

Your gaze averted to the familiar structure of the Crotus Prenn Asylum. A sound played in your head, the screech of the Nurse. You were always curious about her but never got the chance to even talk to her unlike... no, it was one time. You weren’t gonna go around and try talk to killers like you did with him.

You put your palm to your forehead, cringing at the memory. Not in a bad way but maybe you could’ve done something differently. No, not really. Jed was a psychopath, a murderer. He was charming in a fucked up sort of way. You sighed as you walked towards a generator behind the grey brick walls.

There wasn’t any indication that it was the Pig or Freddy, thankfully. You began to work on the generator. Your thoughts turned to the fear of being hooked, stabbed, and hurt. You shuddered at the thought of it, the feeling of the hook would probably never leave you. Death was forever here, unfortunately. Elodie and Felix’s conversation had given you hope, maybe there was a way out of here.

“Shit.” You mumble as you shielded your eyes from the small explosion. 

Y/N huffed. You felt slightly disappointed in yourself and began again. Your head perked up as you heard stomping. It wasn’t loud enough to be the Oni or Trapper.

You kept a head on the generator as you noticed a dark figure stomping towards you. You needed a moment to process the situation. It was Ghostface? Oh shit, it was him, you thought. Flashbacks of your last encounter played in your head, he was definitely pissed off and you couldn’t blame it at this point.

“Don’t fucking try it.” He muttered in reference to you breaking into a sprint.

You felt panic wash over you as you quickly observed your surroundings. There weren’t any nearby pallets or vaults, it was a random open area near a hill with a chest and hook. Perfect, just perfect. Ghostface was quicker than usual, he grabbed you by the waist aggressively to tackle you down.

Ghostface held a knife to the back of your head once you hit the ground. You grunted as he put down all his weight onto you and assured that you wouldn’t be able to escape. The ground felt so uncomfortable, especially against your face. There was a few moments of you struggling beneath him to escape but it became no use. You stopped struggling after he pressed the blade against your skin.

“Didn’t bring a toolbox this time, Y/N?” He asked mockingly, pressing his gloved finger over the small slit. You winced at the stinging sensation but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

“You know how to hold a grudge, Jed.” You replied. You were utterly terrified yet you always felt the need to reply to his stupid remarks.

“Indeed I do.” He replied, grabbing you and making you stand up. He held the knife to your back and pressed it slightly.

Ghostface was actually angry. He didn’t seem to mind actually hurting you or pressing the knife into your skin. You gasped at the painful sensation as he looked around, he saw the killer shack. He held a tight grip on your shoulder as he forced you to walk that way.

You instantly knew where he wanted to go. You just hoped the basement wasn’t there. Of course, you had known that this day would eventually come. But, why now? It was such awful timing, especially with the blue mood you had. Once the two of you reached the shack, he shoved you onto the ground aggressively.

“You’re pathetic... talking and talking last time we met. Now, you’re just a shitty excuse for a survivor.” He said to you. You scoffed.

“If it helps, Jed, I’m sorry.” Y/N replied. Your hand reached to the back of your neck where he had cut you. There wasn’t much blood but it still hurt. You stared at your bloodied fingertips as the man got more infuriated.

“You don’t get to call me that. And why the fuck are you apologizing?” He questioned you. His tone was venomous, this terrified you but him killing you was inevitable and well... you wanted to see him, anyways.

“If you didn’t care, you’d have hooked me now. I must’ve really hurt your feelings, huh?” You said, half-jokingly but you were also genuine.

“I don’t care.” He replied to you almost instantly. You knew that was a lie.

“Then why won’t you hook me? You could’ve slashed my back open but instead you pinned me to the ground... weirdo.” You mumbled.

He fell silent for a second. Ghostface was a bit baffled by you. Why weren’t you begging for your life? The version he remembered of you was different, or maybe he killed too many survivors that would beg. Not only that but he planned this out thoroughly. He was practically counting on you to scream and beg for your life. Ghostface had even made an offering for this realm because he researched it extensively, as he did with most of his previous murders.

Despite what he may have thought, Y/N was absolutely terrified. However, there was a strange feeling of attraction to him. Not necessarily a crush just yet but there was also a rivalry in which you felt comfortable talking to him. He felt like a real person. Well, of course he was a real person but you had no trouble making shitty remarks to him.

“I want this to last because you were being a little bitch last time. I’ve been dying to slice you open and make you regret that stupid little stunt you pulled.” He said to you.

You sat up, bringing one knee to your chest casually. There was a feeling of bravery that washed over you like last time. Y/N sighed deeply and looked around the shack. It was a basic shake. No totem, no gen.

“Yeah, sure... then do it.” You said to him.

“You’re not making this any easier.” He replied, more annoyed with you.

“Nothing you do is gonna make me regret what I did. Even if you do kill me and make me suffer, I’m still gonna come back alive. I’ve been puked on, trapped, and even had some weird ass trap put onto my head.” You said, standing up and pointing your finger to his chest.

“But you, Danny, only have a knife. I know the Legion or whatever their names are can use that better than you. You’re just a weirdo with a mask.” Y/N finished.

Ghostface seemed rather stunned, yet offended. Mainly because he couldn’t doubt anything you said. It became known that the Legion studied the human anatomy extensively, more than Danny ever cared to do. His area of expertise was stalking and memorizing a person’s schedule. But still. his ego was always bigger than any logic. The cloaked man grabbed your wrist. He oddly didn’t grab it too tight, he lifted your arm over your head.

“And what does that make you? I’m still better than you to some degree. You’re trapped here because the Entity thinks you deserve it and I get to kill anybody I desire.” He said, the tip of his blade poking your stomach.

“I guess we’re both shitty people.” You shrugged as his grip somewhat loosened. He sighed deeply before throwing you towards the generator.

“I had hoped killing you would be satisfying.” He muttered, bitter that your reaction wasn’t what he imagined. You fixed your shirt slightly and leaned against the generator. A part of slowly began to accept the growing crush you developed on the strange murderer, you didn’t care at this point since you were damned to an eternity of trials. 

“It probably would’ve been if you weren’t so easy to talk to.” You said to him as he snapped his head towards you, confused for a moment. Easy to talk to? He scoffed in response.

“Easy? You’re the fucking weirdo here.” He said, with a bit of a defeated tone.

“You’re no ladykiller, Danny, but... I’m charmed. I guess it’s something killers like you do though.” You said to him.

“I don’t charm or seduce people. I watch them.” He corrected you.

“Explains a lot.” You said, looking at your nails. Ghostface was quick to give into his ego and crossed his arms in a very stubborn manner.

“Actually, I did. As Jed Olsen, anyways. People were so trusting of him and neglected to suspect the new guy in town. It made it easy to watch people and I had a lot of excuses to spend hours doing so.” He said to you.

“Jed sounds nice.” Y/N shrugged.

“Well, Jed isn’t real, babe. He’s a shitty facade of what people like in a person. Made it so much easier for myself.” Ghostface said.

“Okay then,.. what did you do? As a career?” You asked him.

“I was a journalist and wrote for the Roseville Gazette. They made me cover my own killings and I did a good job doing so. Nobody could really understand my work though, no matter how much I tried to when I was Jed.” He said, a proud tone in his voice as he spoke. You were weirded out and cautious but you wanted to try and understand him.

“So, is that why you do it? For art?” You asked him as his head perked.

“That’s exactly why! There’s something very beautiful about the redness unique to somebody pouring out of them, even mixing with others. Not only that but just toying around and seeing how loud one can scream. Each scream is so unique and different. And just like art, you can fix your mistakes if it isn’t done right.” He explained, he seemed more relaxed. 

“Fix? But wouldn’t they be dead?” You asked him, genuinely confused. 

“You have to be an expert craftsman to fix it. A scream is a delicacy, something I choose not to indulge myself in often. Y’know, don’t want anybody hearing what goes on. When I do want to hear the screaming, it’s usually when my target has piqued my interest or mildly annoyed me. It feels rewarding after going through all the effort to memorize their lifestyle.” He said.

“A weird but cool way of looking at it, I suppose.” Y/N said. 

You didn’t really care about morality at this point. Such things as the Entity exist, anyways, You weren’t sure what you did to deserve being stranded here. Even if you did have a weird romantic interest in him, so what? Why would the Entity care? Why would any Gods care? And even then, you seemed to have an interest in his hobby. Blood and killing didn’t faze you anymore.

“You think so?” He asked you. 

“Depends on the person, I guess. I’d only do it to bad people.” You said.

“But, you’d do what I do?” He asked you.

“Yeah...?” You responded. Danny seemed a bit giddy.

“How would you do it?” Ghostface asked, he seemed way too excited to hear about your non-existent methods of killing.

“I don’t know...” Y/N replied, feeling somewhat flustered by how close he was to you. It was a different type of feeling when he wasn’t trying to stab you. 

“If you want, I could show you some pictures and give you tips.” He said.

“And kill who? We’re stuck in this hellhole.” You reminded him.

“What about the other survivors? They can’t all be innocent.” Ghostface said to you. He had some appreciation for you since you listened. It was crazy how much this strange man can switch up.

“No, never. I’m not that crazy.” You said as the loud horn of the exit gates blared. You looked around, really surprised. He seemed just as surprised.

“That long?” He questioned. 

“Guess I’m just that good of a distraction.” You said to him as he silently sighed in frustration but didn’t seem to care. A part of him enjoyed your talk.

“Guess you’re gonna be my one kill.” He said, shifting towards you and pushing you against the wall. You were taken aback by his swift movement.

You squirmed against his body, somewhat sliding downwards so kicking was pretty much useless unless you wanted to completely fall. The two of you grunted quietly as he turned you around, shoving your face against the hard wall. It was uncomfortable but he wasn’t being as rough as he usually was. At this point, you were scared of his knife so you tried pulling his hands away from you in the awkward position. Ghostface tightly pinned one of your arms on your back, you winced as he tugged on your hair.

He leaned inwards, poking his head towards your neck and hair. Ghostface took a moment to memorize your scent and what your hair texture might have felt like. For some strange reason, he seemed to want to learn everything about you. It might have been a bad idea for you to have opened him up about his art.

“Get off of me.” You demanded in a stern voice.

“You’re scaring me, Y/N.” He replied sarcastically. 

You froze up when he slid his hand under your shirt, his fingertips trailing on your back. It wasn’t the motion itself but rather the feeling of his ungloved hand. You felt yourself go into a rather catatonic state, not in fear but you were quick to wonder why he would take his glove off. A thousand thoughts and scenarios played in your mind. His touch was soft but still managed to leave you with chills. 

Ghostface, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself. He made notes of how soft your skin felt, his hand curiously wandered upwards. It wasn’t long before his hand wandered to your more sensitive areas. A gasp escaped your mouth as kept you pinned with his knees, his hands groping you a bit more roughly. Your face heated up when he squeezed you, you didn’t seem to struggle either. 

“Fuck...” You whispered.

“If only we had the time.” He mumbled, sticking three of his gloved fingers into your mouth. Your eyes rested as you stared upwards, allowing him to continue touching you. 

“I bet you’re getting all excited over this... if only I could capture the look on your face right now. How does it feel? Having somebody like me have their way?” He asked you. You felt aroused yet ashamed to oblige him.

“It feels good...” You managed to say, his fingers still in your mouth.

You felt the bulge in his crotch grow hard but this wasn’t the time or place. As much as he wanted to fuck you then and there, he needed to have some control over himself. He pulled his hands away and slid his glove back on. You let out a sigh of relief but also a whine. You knew just as much as he did that it just wasn’t the right time. You wiped the saliva from your lips and slowly stood up.

He pulled you backwards by your waist. You felt him rub his knife near your crotch, gliding it teasingly. His other hand wrapped around your neck. You heard him chuckle rather darkly. At this point, you seemed more hot and bothered than he was. Ghostface squeezed your neck a little harder, wanting to get one last sound of of you before he let you go. He didn’t care whether or not the Entity would be displeased or not.

“Guess you’ll have to be a whore some other time.” He said, cutting you on the arm slightly. You pulled your arm away quickly.

“Whatever.” You replied, flustered by his comment. Did that just happen?

“Better go before the Entity kills you itself.” He said to you.

“Right, right... see you around, Danny.” You said before quickly walking away and then running towards the exit gates. 

His head tilted curiously. Ghostface wasn’t sure if he had feelings or not. He admired you for listening to him and asking some questions though. But, now that he knew you’d do things with him willingly, he had some ideas. A wide smile grew behind his mask as he began to fantasize about the photos he would eventually take. 

You would probably come to regret your actions, seeing as his obsession with you would grow. Danny needed to know everything about you and even felt a bit possessive now. It didn’t matter, there was many possibilities within the Fog. Pray that you’ll be ready for your next meeting.

NOTE: Currently writing a full fledged Danny fic with a different plot but have the sequel to the Distraction. Ty for reading!

[mystic-sky]

This is just a request, but do you think you can write something short about gojo meeting his s/o who is a poc and how he’d react to her curly hair 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 the fandom is still pretty new so there’s not a lot of poc drabbles out there if any at all.

Here you go bby, I hope you enjoy 💕✨

Summary: An AU where you’re a sorcerest whose stationed in Japan due to the National Sorcerer Exchange Program I just made up lol. Even though it’s your first encounter Satoru is a big flirt, as usual✨💘

Word count: 1.7k

It was annoying, being one of the few special grade sorcerers based in Tokyo. Satoru Gojo often wished he could duplicate himself at least three or four times, just to reduce some of the workload stress he had. The older he got, the more he wished he wasn’t the strongest- and that’s a pretty surprising statement on his end.

He felt he couldn’t catch a break. Between special grade work, his students and now looking after Yuji Itadori, who hysterically swallowed a special grade object, he had a lot on his plate.

It was hardly a burden for him. He only wished he could be in multiple places at once. This way, he could make sure the higher ups wouldn’t mess with his students, who meant so much to him.

In sight of the increased special grade activity in Japan and several other countries, the first ever Sorcerer Exchange program was implemented by higher ups across the world. It would ensure that special and first grade sorcerers were evenly spread out and or placed in regions that needed special attention. Satoru wasn’t particularly fond of anything the higher ups did, but this idea wasn’t so bad.

“A government funded, international sorcerer exchange program,” Yaga informs Satoru, who sits across from him, idly drinking his tea.

“And how does this work exactly?” Satoru raises a brow at Yaga before dropping cubes of sugar into his cup, stirring loudly.

“For 6 month spans, high level sorcerers who applied to the exchange will be stationed in different countries to regulate curse activity.”

“Sounds like it pays more. Nanamin might like that.”

“It does, depending on your skill level.” Yaga sits back in his seat. “We’ve already received a few sorcerers from America, Africa, China, Russia-”

“All special grade?” Satoru interjects.

“Currently the exchange program only allows special and first grade sorcerers. Considering the high levels of cursed energy around the world this year, it would be best if we avoided any casualties by placing inexperienced sorcerers in the wrong places.”

“That reminds me. You’re prohibited from participating, considering we’re a red area. Until cursed activity improves here you won’t be allowed to participate.”

“Aww c’mon, you guys suck.” Satoru cocks his head back, sighing loudly.

He already traveled a lot for special grade missions but never for more than a few days. Now there was a whole six-month program and he wasn’t allowed to participate in it? Then again, he couldn’t leave Yuji here with the possibility of the higher ups trying to hurt him again. He promised himself he would protect all of his students.

“There are several meetings I must attend tomorrow and I’d like for you to be there. Don’t be late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Satoru is already up and gripping the handle on the office door.

“I’ve also decided to assign a co-teacher to your first years, for your shorter stationed trips every now and then. She’s an extremely talented special grade from the exchange program. So you needn’t worry of a repeat of the detention center incident with Yuji.”

He had already swung the door open, towering above your body in the door frame. Your nose is barely touching his jacket, and hand almost touching his chest as you were attempting to knock. You take a step back, a bit startled.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I tried to knock,” you say, looking up at the blindfolded man in front of you. “I’m looking for Masamichi Yaga?”

Satoru is startled by your flawless Japanese, considering you’re clearly not of Japanese descent. He took note of your tan skin and big, curly hair that was pinned back in certain spots to display your face.

What a cutie.

“No, I’m Satoru Gojo. Principal Yaga’s the one sitting behind me.” He’s not entirely surprised by your appearance, considering he’s traveled all over the world to fight curses. “And you are?”

You almost think he’s flirting, considering how smooth the question was. Also, you’re now recognizing who he is, cheeks reddening a bit.

“I’m (Full Name). You’re the special grade I’m going to be subbing with for the first years! I’ve heard great things!” You politely bow a bit.

“I know.” His grin large and cocky as he steps out the way, allowing you to walk in. “No need to be so formal though.”

You’re slightly put off by his attitude, but principal Yaga interjects quickly.

“(Last Name), come in. I’ve been awaiting your arrival. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Yaga is on his feet now, bowing towards you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m excited to work with you all.” You say as he motions you to sit and have some tea.

Satoru has found a reason to stay in the room, plopping down beside you and taking up his tea he had previously abandoned.

“Thanks for sending Ichiji to the airport to help with my belongings. I brought so much stuff, I hope it wasn’t too much for him.” You brain flashes back to Ichiji struggling to hold all of your luggage outside the baggage claim.

“Pffft, feel free to call on him whenever you want. That’s what he’s here for.” Satoru assures you, flashing you a toothy grin. You get the feeling that he probably made Ichiji’s job a living hell.

“I must say, Ms. (Last Name), your Japanese is remarkable. How did you become so fluent?” Yaga asks, filling your cup.

“I’m flattered. I taught myself what I could before attending (insert random ass college name in Japan) University. I’ve always admired Japanese culture so I studied it pretty hard. I can also speak (Native language, if you have one) and (two other languages of your choosing).”

“Wow, your Japanese is better than most locals.” Satoru chuckled. “And you’re pretty too. Lucky me.”

You shifted in place on the sofa. The most powerful sorcerer known to man was sitting beside you and he was complimenting you.

“Thank you,” you say loosely, picking up your teacup.

“Ahem,” Yaga interrupts, earning a tiny snort from Satoru.

“He hates it when I flirt.” Satoru whispers as he leans over towards you. Your face feels a bit hot, and you decide it’s from the steam of the tea in your face and not the handsome man leaning a bit too close to you. You set the cup down after the lightest sip.

“I hate to get down to business so soon Ms. (Last Name), but I’d like for you to get settled in as soon as possible. I’ve mapped out a few assignments for you this week. This is your first.” He slides the first report across the table.

“There have been several reports of abnormal cursed energy in Shinjuku City. It’s likely a special grade. I’d like for you to get to the bottom of it. It shouldn’t be a problem, considering your level of expertise. I’ve forwarded the documents to you as well.” The glint in his glasses makes you chuckle a bit. You flip through the report briefly.

“I skimmed this one on the flight. Whatever it is,” you begin, taking out your phone, “seems to be luring children. This corresponds with the rise in missing childrens’ cases I read about in Shinjuku.”

You place the article on your phone down on the table for principal Yaga to read. You liked to do your own research on locals news to see if curses had any sort of correspondence with a certain area’s events.

“You think a curse is kidnapping children?” Satoru suggests.

“It’s just a hunch. It’s nothing I haven’t encountered before.” You bite the nail on your thumb, realizing the inevitable.

“Unfortunately, if I’m correct, those children most likely aren’t alive.”

You stand up, firmly.

“I trust you’ll take care of it then,” Yaga hands your device towards you.

“Most definitely,” you look at your watch. “And I’ll be done before dinner.”

You offer the principal a smile before you slip on your trench coat, eager to take on your first mission.

“By all means, it can wait until the morning after you’ve rested.” Yaga persists.

“Nope! Not when children are potentially involved. I can’t risk it.” You straighten your clothes, and bow once more. “I’ll report back soon.”

“(Name) doesn’t let jet lag stop her from doing her job. What an admirable woman.” Satoru cooed.

“Well, Gojo-san, it was a pleasure meeting you.” You begin to wave but Satoru is on his feet, and right behind you, making you stumble back again.

“Oh no, I’m coming with you.” He grins. “I’ve gotta see what the most powerful special grade sorceress is capable of in person.”

While you had heard of your own nickname before, you hated when people called you that. You tried your best to be humble about it. There’s always new ways to improve your cursed technique, even if you don’t know how yet.

“So you do know who I am,” you shifted your stance, hands on your hips.

“I’ve heard a few things,” he says slyly. “But I’d like to see them first hand.”

“Hmph, alright then. I suppose you can show me around Shinjuku. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” You flip your hair, making your way towards the door.

“And it’s your lucky day, I feel like showing off.” You say, peaking over your shoulder.

“Great, it’s a date.”

You stop dead in your tracks, just two steps out of Yaga’s office.

“What?”

“Even after four years of university in Japan? I said, it’s a date.”

The door shuts behind him, and his grin is even more smug.

The audacity.

“You’re not going on a date with me unless you ask me properly.” You roll your eyes, swaying down the steps. So this was Satoru Gojo.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’d be iconic as hell— the strongest man and the strongest woman? We’d be unstoppable.”

“I don’t even know what you look like underneath that thing.” You say, motioning towards his blindfold.

Oh , but you lied. You’d seen his Instagram.

He was a selfie fanatic. That and a cake fiend.

“Wanna see right now? Will it change your mind?” His voice low and steady behind you.

“I’ve got a curse to excorcise.” You roll your eyes, speeding up ahead of him. It didn’t help much considering his legs were so long.

“You know you wanna,” he bends down, voice deep in your ear.

“I’m not listening~

You’re far ahead of him now, attempting to hide the heat on your face and hearing deep chuckles echo behind you.

“Ah, this is going to be the best six months ever!” He laughs heartily.

A small smile crept on your lips.

Maybe it would be.

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

[qwanderer]

What makes a Loki a Loki?

Loki is called upon to be a lot of different people. He’s been raised on Asgard, and that’s formed some of the more basic aspects of his personality and values, but at the same time he has attributes that have been consistently discouraged and pushed down by that culture, and we can see them step forward as he moves into situations where they are encouraged.

Throughout the canons, there are a lot of Lokis. Siege Loki, Lady Loki, Kid Loki and his murderer, Ikol, King Loki, and the God/Goddess of Stories. The earlier aspects I know only by secondhand information, but I’m very familiar with Loki from Young Avengers and Agent of Asgard, some of my favorite comics of all time. But I know some basic facts - the way the earliest Loki was a quintessential comic book villain full of pure simple theatrical mischief and ridiculous schemes, the fact that Lady Loki was a somewhat more sinister appropriator of bodies for her own use.

In my view, MCU!Loki has, at the very least, the same capacity to shift personalities depending on the circumstances, and I haven’t yet seen anything in the Loki show that’s thrown my suspension of disbelief with regards to his characterization.

I’ve seen some people rebel at the idea of Loki gleeful over the destruction of Pompeii and the causing of chaos it allowed, but it reminds me of some meta I wrote very early on in my years of meta-writing in the MCU. The values Loki was raised with, Asgardian values, sometimes treat death very lightly, especially death in battle, especially human or otherwise non-Aesir death. In the Aesir context, at least to a certain extent and certainly in terms of what we’ve seen Odin teach his sons onscreen, violence is honorable, fighting is an adventure, lives are cheap and Valhalla is the ultimate goal.

I think a lot of the central conflict of Loki’s character is that he follows some of these principles to their logical conclusions in situations that Aesir values never meant them to cover. If life is unimportant, then it won’t be so bad if I tell Thor that Odin is dead. If the throne of Asgard has dominion over all the Nine Realms, then why shouldn’t I rule Midgard?

But he also shifts the way he acts to suit the situation. He is a shifter, it’s what he does. On Asgard, he is expected to be a warrior, a dignified prince, a companion and support for his brother. The values are bravery and dignity, and so a lot of what he projects there is bravado and elegance, which are close enough for him to get by.

When he is taken by Thanos, the only things Thanos wants and values are power and death. So Loki becomes an avatar of power and death. He carries that with him to Earth, because he is still very much under the jurisdiction of Thanos. But he very quickly learns how to use and manipulate Earth values, like wit and pathos. They seem to fit him better than the others, and he carries them through the other movies and the different frameworks he finds himself in.

He also tends to carry Asgard with him, the knowledge that he’s a prince, destined to be a king, that he needs to carry himself a certain way, with that elegance, dignity and bravado.

When I see Loki in the first episode of the show, I recognize him as some of the deepest, most quintessential parts of Loki that have only been allowed to peek out on occasion before. And that is due to manipulation on Mobius’s part - Mobius makes it very clear what he expects of Loki. To get down to the very basic levels of him and find out his motivations, what makes him fundamentally himself - “What makes Loki tick?” There’s a quiet void there, and the only thing that’s being asked of Loki, for once, is that he sit down and fill that void with words - the truest and most sincere words possible.

There’s a clear and interesting divide between that phase for Loki, and the phase we see in episode two - Mobius has stopped providing that space, and in the interim, he’s made it very clear what he expects Loki to be like, what mold he’d prefer the trickster to fit into.

The hard-working, lovable scamp.

Loki is hiding his deepest self again, which we all do most of the time. Loki can’t feel that deeply and express that freely all the time. Because of the environment he’s in - which may not be any more or less free than any of the other environments he’s experienced - he expresses himself in a particular way. He is the hard-working, mischievous scamp Mobius has been pushing him to be.

I don’t think he’s any more or less himself than he’s ever been - he’s simply responding to different pressures. And the pressures of this episode press him very hard into the Neal Caffrey mold. Which is an interesting mold in itself - when I was writing White Collar fic, I made a point to distinguish who Neal was when he was with Peter and who he was under different circumstances - prison, witness protection, with Mozzie, with Kate. (I wrote an autistic Kate, and had him most freely himself when he was with her.)

Like Neal Caffrey, the Episode 2 Loki is treading a line between behaviors that will get him things because he’s useful and compliant, behaviors that will demonstrate that he’s into minor trickery for fun now and might not be getting up to anything bigger, and those bigger tricks that are definitely still running in the background. It’s the obvious balance for a trickster on a leash with an indulgent bureaucrat.

You can see that it’s a facade in the way that he is near tears when he sees the Ragnarok paperwork, but when he brings it to Mobius’s attention and Mobius expresses his sympathies, Loki says “Yes, very sad,” and then dismisses it in favor of moving on to his mischievous enthusiasm over the resulting theory he’s had.

Like all good lies, it’s built out of truth, so when I see this Loki, I see pieces of the Loki I know, just put together a little differently, which is how Loki seems to do it.

Although he’s not free as he might hope to be, and in fact threading a narrow path between a very constricting set of pressures, I do still think he’s enjoying the dropped expectations of dignity and elegance. I think he’s enjoying being in a culture that encourages him to be a geek. To go on about the things he’s passionate about and his areas of expertise. And I think that’s a lot of what unsettles people about this Loki, because that elegance and dignity have carried everywhere else with him. And I’m not going to argue that the TVA are doing anything nice for him - quite the contrary - but I still do enjoy seeing him able to be the geek he’s always had the inclination to be, in the right circumstances.

It makes me wonder, a little, how much his mother is on his mind right now, after the first episode, because if I had a guess, the last time he’s felt free to be this enthusiastic and expressive about his interests is in magic lessons with her as a child.

So. The other variant.

We know from the Lady Loki comics arc that Loki can possess other people’s bodies over the long term, and we know from kid!Loki and his murderer interacting in YA that the original occupant of a body can sometimes hang around and talk back, if only as a figment of his imagination. We know from most incarnations that Loki can go to a lot of dark places if the circumstances push him to it.

As I’ve said before, I’m intrigued by the question the difference between the two variants poses - how much different can two Lokis be before they are no longer meaningfully the same person?

We’ve got clues on both sides, of course - our scamp on a leash saying “I wouldn’t do this to myself” on the side of them being not the same person, and the vengeful goddess he’s chasing saying “I was afraid they’d found a better version of me” on the side of them being the same person.

The more I think about it, the more I’m willing to predict that this vengeful goddess is, in some way, an incarnation of Loki. But (be warned, I’m going to reference Stephenie Meyer now) it could be in as small a way as something out of The Host - a stolen body’s original personality fighting dirty against the invading spirit.

If this is something based on the character of Sylvie from the comics, it could still be anything from a person - human or Asgardian - chosen and manipulated by Loki to do his bidding, to a full-on possession, or even a body constructed for a specific purpose but developing its own personality traits.

We know this variant is a body hopper, and Mobius’s briefing mentioned that it’s an inherent ability of most Lokis to shapeshift, so there are a lot of potential explanations for this unfamiliar shape.

But the differences between the variants could also stem mostly from different experiences.

The only thing I’m at all sure of is that this variant has also been tortured by Thanos. It’s possible that she branched earlier - that the wild desperation of having freshly escaped Thanos translated into being dragged into the TVA like a cornered wildcat, on the raggedy edge and desperate enough to go all-out to get out of the collar while still in the custody of the minute men. Then, as she became familiar with the TVA in concept and execution, developed opinions and built a personality around taking them down, taking them apart the way she wished she could do to Thanos, the way Thanos did to her.

But she could also have branched later - after the destruction of Asgard, or when Thanos appeared on the refugee ship. After the worst has happened to her people. With some preexisting notion that time could have gone differently, that some things that had happened should not be allowed to happen.

I have a weak spot for interactions between incarnations of Loki in the comics, so I am incredibly eager to see the MCU’s take on this.

[yandere-society]

Love L(eyes)

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Synopsis: He was a bit odd, quiet, mysterious and studious, but you liked him. Found him more agreeable than some of your other coworkers. Besides, you were never the one to judge, no matter how strange the rumors around him were. This is why you happily accepted his slightly childish, secret Santa-exchange Christmas gift. And being so incautious is what caused your own undoing

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Attempt at Black Comedy, Yandere themes, Stalking, Obsession, Mentions of Smut, Riding, Orgasms, Voyeurism, Blackmail, Y/N Stupidity, Unedited 

Admin: @roses-ruby​

Request:

“Looks like someone’s had one too many Hawaiian-flavored shots again.”

Your coworker remarks at the girl in the distance hogging the karaoke machine and tearing her lungs out to Wham’s Last Christmas. You huff humorously at her and at your other colleagues who became shitfaced to overly spiked punch as an excuse to get loose in their normally constrained work environment. Some other time you would have joined them, but this week had been especially exhausting for you.

The supervisor, after zealously creating the holiday season itself, had sprained her ankle 2 days ago – leaving you in charge. As if it wasn’t chaotic enough thanks to her dedication for winter festivities, it was now all in your hands and the both of you couldn’t have been more different. Whereas she was Mrs. Claus wrapped in jubilant, giddy and imaginative red wrapping, you were a nonchalant grey piece of paper. Which is exactly what you decided to do with everything she had planned out for the office’s Christmas party:

Caroling? Those who want to sing can go ahead.

Gingerbread house competition? Literally not happening.

Secret Santa? Just give the presents when you can.

It may have been uninteresting but as long as adults had their alcohol – you eye the elated faces of your coworkers – it wouldn’t matter.

“___?” You jump slightly, spinning around when you heard your name being spoken in a low, almost intimate timbre.

Namjoon stood a few inches away from you, holding what looked like a present in both hands. Your coworker, Jin, raises an eyebrow at him.

“…Mm…this is for you.”

“Oh!” You were starting to think you had been left out of the drawing hat, “Thank you so much, Joon!”

Gently grabbing it from his arms, you hold it out and give it a little shake.

“Can I open it?” You ask, trying to follow ‘gift etiquette.’ He stares at you for a moment with an unreadable expression and makes you wonder if you had said something wrong.

“I would prefer if you wait until you got home.”

“Oh-uh, alright. Thank you.”

With that, he turns to leave.

“…Happy holidays, Joon!”

He shifts his head to give you one last look, a small smile on his plump lips.

“Thank you. Happy holidays.”

When he’s out of hearing range, you hear Seokjin sigh loudly.

“I mean…he’s hot but isn’t he kind of weird? It’s such a waste.”

“He’s not weird…”

“Girl, listen to this- you know the office slut?” He kindly refers to Lisa, one of the female secretaries, “She was all over him last summer until she finally got herself into his room. Turns out he lives in a fucking warehouse in the middle of nowhere! I don’t know exactly what she saw, but she’s been spooked out ever since and avoids him as much as possible. Like just last week, I was lurking around and thought I saw the both of them make eye contact while passing each other in the hallway and that poor girl! She looked as if she almost soiled herself.”

“Those are just rumors, Jin.” You roll your eyes at his exaggerated tone, “Maybe she got rejected? And as for Joon…I think he’s just a little shy.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is don’t be too shocked if you find a woman’s head in that box.”

You snort at his ridiculousness, placing Namjoon’s gift on your work desk. The drinks you had before the party start catching up to you and you excuse yourself from Jin to head to the restroom. Once you’re in the stall, you sigh, placing your palm against the wall of the stall and leaning towards it. Perhaps you were slightly more tipsy than you had originally imagined.

Just then you heard what sounded like two pairs of kitten heels walk into the foyer.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you hear them talk about whatever the fuck. Social gatherings really weren’t your thing and you wanted to go home since privacy was nonapparent in this office. When you just about became mentally prepared to empty your bladder and scramble out of the building, you heard your name being called, pulling your attention away from the matter at hand.

“___ scrapped the Gingerbread house idea, isn’t it crazy. The supervisor lets her get away with so much even though they are worlds apart.”

Ah yes, gossip. How easy it was to spread misinformation. What they glossed over was the part where the supervisor hated your guts, however, you just happen to be two grown, working women who were able to reach compromises for mutual benefit. The gingerbread project was scrapped because you managed to convince your jolly boss lady that it was an impossible occurrence to accurately judge without her gingerbread expertise. And it was nothing but the truth.

“Well, whatever, I didn’t want to participate in that dumb event anyway. But you know what really irks me? It’s when she thinks she’s so special and unique.”

Special? When have you ever-

“She honestly thinks she’s so different.” The girl continues, “Plastered on the wall each time we throw an office party- whispering and giggling with men. Did you see her with Namjoon and Jin today?”

“Isn’t Jin gay?”

“That’s besides the point.” She sounded exasperated, “What I’m saying is that her lack of interest in everything makes her uninteresting! She may think she’s above us when she pulls all these stunts but she’s so boring, it’s almost painful to watch.”

“Pfft, you’re a bitch.” You hear laughter and the clack of compact powder before their footsteps retreat from the foyer.

For a minute you just stand there, thinking about nothing. Sure, you didn’t expect everyone to like you, but you were on friendly terms with everyone in your office. Even as a number 2, you’ve never raised your voice or demanded anything unreasonable. The saddest part was that you knew exactly who those two girls were and had conversed with them on multiple occasions.

You were definitely sober now as you felt a small prick of annoyance stab at your heart.

A girl who tries her hardest to not be like ‘other girls.’ A boring girl. Is this truly what people thought of you?

_

It’s not too late when you get home – but it feels like you’ve been away for ages.

You groan as you remove your heels, tossing them somewhere near the entrance area as you trudge further into your studio apartment. With weary arms, you throw the gift onto the bed and fling yourself besides it, listening to the mattress creak for a second before silence surrounds you once more. Although you decided to sleep as soon as you got through your door, you knew you would just overthink and confuse yourself by remembering what those girls said.

It shouldn’t matter…it was just casual conversation…not like they wanted to kill you or something, you rationalize. Also, if you were someone who cared so much for what others said, then you couldn’t have continued bearing such a laidback personality for this long, could you? Still, something about the confidence they had in their malicious words bothered you.

“Ugh,” You grumble, sitting up and placing the gift on your lap to distract yourself from all the negativity. Trying to clear your head, you tear open the bright colored wrapping as swiftly as you could. A smile crosses your face when you think about cold, silent Namjoon carefully handling vibrant Christmas paper over this box. Didn’t seem like him.

He always had a peculiar reputation around the office, but he was never anything but duly courteous towards you. Though you never thought much of anyone from your workplace, you did think well of him and his kindness. They denied it like crazy, but everyone had a crush on the smart and mysterious Namjoon, even Jin. You tear off the tape connecting the flaps together and carefully pull out whatever was inside. And that’s when you come face to face with a…stuffed teddy bear.

Really, just a regular brown bear with soft, fuzzy fabric – nothing fancy. Now you were even more confused. Did you ever give him the vibe of being a stuffed-animal lover? Actually, aren’t there some guys who give this kind of stuff to girls, like on Valentines? Joon probably didn’t know what to get you and went with something generic, you deduce.

You stare into its eyes. Plastic black orbs lifelessly leer back at you. When you began to feel oddly uneasy, Jin’s story suddenly flashed through your mind. There wasn’t a head in the box like he said, but it didn’t mean this bear couldn’t be an ominous gift.

What if…it had a small camera stuffed inside the layers of cotton like in those horror movies?

As soon as you conjure the question, you shake your head, cringing at your own thoughts. Just because some people found him disagreeable didn’t mean he was an actual creep who would do that. You, of all people, knew how quickly false notions spread throughout that office. If they were wrong about you, then they were definitely wrong when regarding the quiet Namjoon. He was a simple, introverted man your insufferable coworkers picked on and this was just an innocent teddy and nothing more. Exhaling through your nose, you were about to throw it back in the box and forget about it when a memory abruptly froze you.

“-she’s so boring, it’s almost painful to watch.”

Ok…as a rational individual, you know there’s no camera in this toy, you know that. But if there was a camera – it would mean Joon wants you in some fashion. Would you want to ~secretly~ watch a person you didn’t have a crush on? Exactly. If there was a camera, it would also mean… that when those bitches from the restroom see you, someone plain and inconsiderable in their eyes, be the object of ‘office hottie’ Kim Namjoon’s desire…

Wouldn’t they eat their own words?

The thought instantly sends endorphins throughout your brain. How satisfying. Little old, boring you being stalked by the sexiest, most capable man in the office.

“Hmph.” You smirk at the bear before looking around your room. There was a shelf on the wall facing your bed, stacked with some novels you read back in college. Pushing yourself off the mattress, you walk up to the shelf and lightly thrust away some of the books before placing the teddy bear on an empty spot.

This was silly, you think, gazing at the bear in amusement. Although you were certain there was no camera, the mere thought about spiting those women made you ignore all the red flags which were present in your head since you grew up as a woman in a male-dominated reality. Honestly, you were too caught up in your silly revenge dream to even care.

This was silly, but…strangely fun.

_

Since then you did everything which requires adequate privacy in front of the bear.

Sleeping, getting dressed for work, masturbating, changing underwear and even when you just had to get out of tight jeans and into sweats – you did it all in the once place you knew you had the potential of being ‘watched.’ For some reason, you couldn’t take these actions seriously. Everything was just a game to you and you were actually starting to have fun with the conception of someone observing you round the clock. You started to feel ridiculous sometimes, especially when you tried to act sexy each time you stood in front of your bed.

This was definitely something you had no idea you’d be so into. It was as if you were really beginning to believe there was a camera in the fucking bear. Well if there is – you hope Namjoon likes black underwear as much as you do.

“Nnh- ahh-” You moan as you slam down on your boyfriend’s stomach. He grunts in pleasure, tightening his hold on your flexing hips as you arched your spine out further. With your head thrown back, you slightly open an eyelid to peek over at the “spycam” teddy bear on the wall shelf.

A camera’s lens should be wide enough to catch this angle, right?

“___,” You look back at your boyfriend when he groans your name, suddenly remembering he was under you, “You’re so into it today.”

“Um, y-yeah…”

What else could you say? Tell him the truth about how you’re some pervert who’s currently getting off on the idea that there might be some creepy hot dude watching you bare-naked, fucking another man right this minute? ‘Yeah’ was the only logical choice of words you could invoke. Your boyfriend was a nice guy – someone you met on a dating app. You weren’t exactly looking for anything long-term, but you did want to get off without the hassles and dangers of a one-night stand. It’s been going on for two months now and although you don’t think ‘he’s the one’ or anything, he was calming to be around.

“Oh-oh cumming!”

You stare as his mouth becomes unhinged and his eyebrows knot in frustration. As you said, he’s a nice guy but you wish he wouldn’t look so strange each time he reached his high. If someone was watching you both, this kind of thing is embarrassing.

Wait, what? You stop moving on his dick as soon as the thought crosses your mind. Why are you even thinking about something like that? After a few seconds, the pressure on his chest releases and you mindlessly move off of him, joining him on the mattress. He glances at you in confusion as you stare at the ceiling.

“But you didn’t cum.”

“It’s fine, I’m not really in the mood.”

He sits up, head still turned towards you as he removes his condom, “Uhhhh…You sure?”

Instead of looking at him, you turn your head in the direction of the wall where the bear was placed. Dark orbs gazed back at you.

“Yeah.”

It was just a game to you, but it was starting to get strange.

_

You stretch your dormant muscles as you sit up in your chair.

It was your first day back from the three-day holiday break and you were already in a state of mental detriment. Existing in the same room as people who probably hated you was awkward. Not being able to accurately work through your sudden Christmas impulse of voyeurism also weighed you down. You passed out last night, but the first thing you would do once you got home is throw that stuffed bear away. The game had gone long enough, three days to be exact, and it wasn’t fun anymore. Not when you were involving others.

A part of you felt bad for Namjoon, but you’re sure he wouldn’t actually care.

His obsession with you was just your own delusion after all.

With a groan you get up, gathering the coffee mug from your desk. Maybe some caffeine would help you get it together. You slog into the breakroom, walking up to the freshly brewed coffee pot and pouring a large dose into your cup.

As you’re about to take your first sip, you hear the breakroom door creak open. You’re surprised to see Lisa, but she seems even more surprised – astonished even – when she meets your eyes. For a moment she just stands there by the door, not moving her hand off the handle as she leers at you as if you were a ghoul.

Any other time you would have been confused and creeped out, but right now you could only mentally sigh. Did she perhaps think badly of you as well? It would explain why she always avoided you.

“You should…stay away from Kim Namjoon.”

What?

“Uh…what?”

“I…you should stay away from him. He’s…to you he….”

You squint as the girl stares at the floor, struggling to form words. Why was she suddenly talking about Namjoon and you in the same sentence? In that moment, a look of assurance built up on her face and she looked back up at you, parting her mouth.

But then you see her eyes widen in horror and her shoulders stiffen as she takes a step back.

“Lisa?”

“I- uh- I have to go-” She says, sprinting out of the room before she even finishes her sentence. What the hell was that?

“Good morning, ___.”

Fuck, you recognized that low timbre. You spin around, almost spilling the hot brown liquid as you do, to meet with the one face you were dreading all day. Namjoon stood by you, holding onto his own mug and smiling at you quietly. After every stupid thing you’ve just done in the past couple of days, you really didn’t want to meet him. But you couldn’t abruptly run away either.

“H-hi…Joon…G-good morning.” You mutter, side stepping so he has better access to the coffee pot.

“Cold out, isn’t it.” He makes conversation and you hum along, taking a sip of caffeine as you dwell on how to run back to your desk without seeming too crazy. Namjoon continues to talk about the weather while your anxiety grows. Why were you suddenly so nervous? Were you maybe still delusional; convincing yourself about how he is madly in love with you?

He stops talking for a moment then, and looks over at you who is not present in reality at all. You don’t notice his dark gaze rake over your body nor his grin at your worry.

“You know,” He mutters, almost inaudible, “I do love black underwear as much as you.”

“Yeah.” You sigh in fake amusement, not really processing what he just said. Until you do.

It takes you a minute or two of staring at your coffee to finally register his words into your brain. You slowly look up at him, no traces of amusement or even the previous pointless uneasiness apparent on your current expression.

“What?”

“I said,” He turns his whole body towards you, “I do love black underwear on you.”

“I…” You take a step back, suddenly feeling very small next the man glaring at you, “I’m sorry?”

He raises his hand and fear instantly paralyzes you. When he touches the hair on your head with his fingers, you wanted nothing more than to shove him off and run away. Instead you were caught – irreversibly immobilized by the way he captured you in his gaze.

“Don’t look so surprised, didn’t you want me to see?”

A million and one curses just flash through your mind. This wasn’t real, this was not happening. He was not saying all this. You were probably lying dead next to your boyfriend and still dreaming. That had to be it, because there was no way. No way Namjoon was saying what he is currently in the middle of saying. It was a game; it was just a game.

“Honestly, I thought you would have thrown away such a silly thing as soon as you found it. Did you know it costed me a total of $30? I can’t believe such a cheap investment worked.”

Your breath hitches as you listen to him speak. Mom always called you a fucking idiot, but wow you were a fucking idiot. You were warned, you heard the rumors about him and you should have known. There was a difference between the gossip of drunk girls in the spur of the moment and the account of a very sober and concerned homosexual friend. Still, not wanting to face the present moment, you continue to deny it in your head.

“Nn- uh-” You move back, getting ready to make a run for it. Wishing Jin’s loud ass would somehow interrupt you both.

“I would stay still if I were you.” Namjoon smiles with a warning tone, making you halt, “You see I happen to have a lot of…information. Information which can end up in places it’s not supposed to. I’m sure both of us don’t want that.”

Tears prick the corner of your eyes. You knew exactly what he meant. He recorded you, he has footage of everything you did and he was threatening you. Every time you got undressed, slept, pleasured yourself and – fuck – you and your boyfriend. He’s seen everything. If those recordings end up online, you’d be finished. Forget about your boring girl reputation, if anyone saw those recordings, you wouldn’t even maintain a reputation to defend. And haven’t some women gotten fired over something similar?

“W-why?” You sob to him, not wanting to lose everything.

“Sshh, it’s okay.” He takes you in his arms, hugging you in a soft but firm manner. What else could you do but let him touch whatever he wanted. Although you couldn’t lie and say you were 100% certain the bear didn’t have a camera, you still passed it off as a joke. You messed up, bad. And around you stood the consequence.

“Aren’t holidays great?” He mumbles into your hair in a low, intimate timbre.

____

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Have a wonderful day -- 🍑

[scathecraw]

BBRae Week 2021 - Day 3: Into The Woods

“Summer camp has been so much fun, Rachel. Teether hasn’t cried once since the day after you dropped us off, and Tommy got first place in the obstacle course. You were right, we should have done a camp last year, too.” Melvin chattered excitedly on the office phone while Rachel listened patiently. “They’ve made a bunch of arts and crafts, and the woods here are so cool. They’re really old, and Gar knows so muchabout all the trees and animals and bugs.”

“And who is this Gar, Melvin? A new friendof yours?” Rachel’s emphasis was obvious, and Melvin’s blush was practically audible.

“NO! He’s a counselor. He’s really nice, but he’s really old. Like, 50 or something. You’ll meet him on parent’s day next week.”

Rachel didn’t remember anyone older than the director, a middle aged woman she had spoken to when getting them enrolled and again during drop-off. She suspected Melvin was fibbing to cover her embarrassment, but she brought it on herself by teasing the preteen. “I’m sure I will. Does this mean that you’re going to drag me out into the forest when I come? I thought it was going to be an afternoon of arts and crafts and then some campfire songs, not a forced march.”

“Duh. Arts and crafts are lame. Gar said that next year he’d show us how to whittle, which sounds better than making lanyards.” There was muffled adolescent shouting, and Melvin covered the receiver and yelled back. “I gotta go. We’re going swimming. I’ll call you on Friday. Love you, bye.” She hung up before anything could be said back, and Rachel was left with dead air while Melvin sprinted after her friends, untied shoelaces flailing behind her.

Arriving at the aforementioned “Parent’s Day”, Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The camp had at first seemed like a good way to get the three adopted children outside instead of rotting their brains, but the sheer noise of a few dozen milling, clamoring kids and groups of socializing parents made her wonder what she had subjected them, and by extension, herself, to. She was late, which probably didn’t help the situation, but she looked around the chaos in an effort to find her own three chaos engines. Instead, she was spotted.

A wild, dirty missile made a high-volume impact with her legs, nearly toppling her and babblingso fast that even Rachel’s practiced ear couldn’t discern what he was saying. She was wobbling and about to fall over when a firm hand caught her upper back and helped her regain her balance. “Teether, dude! I said you could go get her, not try to body slam her.”

Rachel finally planted her feet, acknowledged Teether with a gentle hand on his head, and looked up. And up. They both froze for an instant, but the tanned, blond man recovered first. His slack jaw snapped into a smile, and he said “Hi. You must be Rachel. I’m Gar, one of the counselors here.”

His hand was still on her back and heat radiated from it like afternoon sun. Her face had never fallen into the silly expression his had, but unconscious thought raced before she could regain her composure. ‘Definitely not fifty,’ she thought. “Hello. Yes, I’m Rachel, Teether’s mother.” She peeled Teether from her leg with practiced ease, and he sprang off of her and ran.

Gar realized that his hand still rested behind her, almost possessively, and retreated to a more respectable distance. He chuckled, nervously. “Heh. Um, Melvin and Tommy are with their friends, still, but we should probably get them. Ms. Waller asked me to show you around – she said you had just moved to the area?” It wasn’t a question, but he phrased it like it was. They began walking back towards the milling crowd of parents, children, and quite possibly enough noise to drown out a jet engine.

“Yes, it’s our first summer here. She mentioned that most of the kids made this an annual activity, but I didn’t think we’d be so strange as to warrant a personal detail.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that, it’s just that there’s not really many other summer camps around, and ‘cause we go from K-12, we get pretty much everyone. A lot of the other parents already know everybody. You’re not strange, just… new.” His eyes never left her, even as they began walking.

Back with the crowds, Melvin and a gaggle of similarly aged girls watch the two of them. One of them nodded decisively and turned to Melvin. “Okay. They’re too cute together. Look at how awkward they’re being.”

Anotherhuffed a little. “They’re just staring at each other. They should be holding hands or something, right?”

Melvin’s eyes narrowed critically. “It’s been like 10 minutes and they aren’t kissing yet. Gar’s probably too much of a nerd to do anything. We need to do something to make sure they know how perfect for each other they are.”

“Like what? They aren’t going to start making out in the middle of the crowd.”

An evil smirk crept across Melvin’s face. “Maybe not in the middle of the crowd, but what if they were all alone in the woods? Then they’d have no excuse not to!”

A look of awe crossed her companions’ faces. “That’s evil. I love it.”

But the smirk fell, half-formed plot evaporating. “But how could we get them out there alone? It can’t be anything serious, or else Rachel will ground me forever, and I bet she won’t even go unless we can trick her into it.”

“Could you just tell her you feel sick?”

“No.” Melvin shook her head slowly. “Then she’d either stay with me or just take me home early.”

One, heretofore silent, chimed in. “I think I know what we can do. But Mel, you’re going to have to make a lanyard.” She giggled at the disgusted look, and said “C’mon, we only have like 15 minutes before they start wondering where we are.”

Across the crowd and a million miles away, Garfield and Rachel were, in fact, being tremendously awkward as they watched the kids run and play. Gar fumbled his words and couldn’t decide to stare at her eyes, the curve of her neck, or decidedly anywhere except her. Rachel was the opposite. She answered in short, monosyllabic whispers and swallowed, trying to ease her desperately dry throat.

“So, uh, you said you just moved here! Do you have a job, er, of course you do, unless you don’t! That’s fine, too! Nothing wrong with… that. Yeah.” He trailed off, before gamely trying again. “So what do you do when you’re not, y’know, coming to summer camps?”

Rachel took a deep breath and centered herself. Gar started. “I’m not, like, annoying you, am I? I’m sorry, I tend to blabber -”

“No. I’m just… a little off-kilter. I’m a curator of antiquities at the museum.”

“That is so cool. Gar’s eyes were like dinner plates. “I love the museum! I always wanted to volunteer there, but I never feel like I have time between summers here and planning classes during the year.”

“Oh, you’re a teacher? Grade school or high school?”

“High school and occasionally some classes at the community college. I figured I was already teaching AP and college bio isn’t much different. I’m sure the kids get tired of me after the sixth year, though, heh.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, uncomfortably warm even for a summer afternoon.

“I suppose they wouldn’t let you teach so many years if you weren’t good at the job. Not that biology is my area of expertise.” She clarified, hearing his unspoken question. “I studied history and preservation, so a natural history museum is certainly a big change.”

“Wow, I bet. Still, nobody does what they expected to when they were in college. I got a bachelor’s in Environmental Science, but it turns out most of those jobs are just telling corporations what they want to hear.”

Rachel leveled him with a newly assessing gaze. “Believe it or not, so are quite a few jobs in archaeology. It’s what put me off of the field.”

“But hey, teaching led me to Jump and to Lake Titan Camp, so I can’t complain.”

While the two nominal adults conversed, a far more intricate conversation was happening in the craft cabin. Kole, a pink haired co-conspirator of Melvin’s, was creating a half finished lanyard in pink and purple while the rest strategized. “Okay, so I need to throw her off so she’ll agree. The pink and purple color scheme is good – pink for me, purple for her, but I need something to knock her off her game.”

“You could tell her something that surprised her, maybe. But what?”

Realization dawned. “Okay. This is a little mean, maybe, but I was planning on talking to her about it anyway. I know just what to say. Kole, how’s the lanyard coming?”

“I’ve got it to the perfect length. Just long enough that you might ‘Need a little while to finish it, pretty please.’” She held up the dangling lengths of string. “Everything ready? We’re running out of time.”

“Now or never. Let’s go.” Melvin took a deep breath and led them to the doorway.

Garfield and Rachel were deep in conversation. The initial awkwardness had faded, and while there were still sparks flying whenever they made eye contact, it was more a static buzz than the almost painful live wire sensation of their first glances. At some point they had migrated closer to where Teether and Tommy’s two groups had merged into a supercrowd of children all making noise, forcing them to stand closer to one another to be heard. They were in this huddle, all focus on each other except for both of their frequent check-in glances to the children. Rachel had dipped her toe into a hint of vulnerability to test the waters, quietly and without fanfare explaining that she had adopted all three of them from the same orphanage she had found herself aging out of.

Gar reciprocated. “That’s really incredible. I was adopted pretty young by some family friends. I know how complicated that sort of relationship can be, but it’s doing something amazing for all three of them.”

Melvin, seeing their closeness, hesitated, just a bit. She was messing with fate, a little. But she was certain it was for a good cause. And it was now or never, they were already cutting it close to “Shared Activity Time” for her age group. “Umm. Rachel.”

“Yes, Melvin?” Rachel saw that Mel was nervous. Melvin was never nervous.

“I want to finish a project for you, but won’t have time later. So, uh, I need you to find something else to do. During the Activity Time, I mean. I just want to finish making this. Please, M-mom?”

Time stopped for Rachel. She had adopted them six years ago, and there had never been a time when Melvin had consciously called her “Mom”. Forms asking for “Mother’s Name”, sure. Mother’s day celebrations, absolutely. Even a few mostly-asleep, teary pleas, but never, never while Melvin was in control of her faculties.

But while time had stopped for Rachel, it marched onward for everyone else. Melvin held her breath and waited for long, tense seconds, but Rachel didn’t seem to be coming back to her senses, so she hurriedly spat out “Okayloveyouseeyousoon,” and fled back to the safety of her friends.

Gar, too, was frozen. Not to the same degree, nor for the same reasons, but he felt like he had intruded on something intimate that he had no business being a part of. He looked around, helplessly as Rachel gaped. After several seconds of silence, he couldn’t not do something. “Uhh. Rachel? You… okay?” More frozen immobility. He waved a hand in front of her face. “Rae? You there? Do I need to get a doctor?”

She seized his hand. “Did… did she just call me “Mom”? Or did I have a stroke?”

“Yeah, ouch. She did. I’m guessing this was new?”

“I… Yes. She’s never… What… what do I do? Was she angry I didn’t answer? Where did she go?” Rachel began looking around for her.

“Whoa, slow down. She’s with her friends. She wasn’t mad, it seemed like she was nervous, but not scared. And what you do is let her come to you and talk to her like you always do, and just make sure she knows you’re okay with it. As long as you are okay with it, right?”

“Of course. I just thought...” Rachel trailed off.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about! She loves you and just told you how she feels. That’s a good thing. Let’s give her a chance to do whatever she’s doing. The rest of the kids are about to go do an activity, so we have time.”

“I think I need to get away from the crowd for a minute. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is it alright if we just go for a walk?”

“Of course.” Gar’s grip had at some point shifted to be holding her hand back, and he led her down a dirt path towards a grove of trees. “This path is quiet and not too hard.” Her sudden harsh look had him follow up. “You’re not really wearing the shoes for hiking, Rae.”

“Hmf. And since when did I say you could call me Rae, Garfield?”

He looked stricken. “I am so sorry. I dunno what I was thinking, Ra-chel. Rachel.”

She narrowed an eye. “Rae is… acceptable, as far as diminutives go. Just don’t make a habit of it in public.”

“Cross my heart. Hey, at least being a little mad at me put your mind off of Melvin, right?”

“And now it’s right back. So very helpful,” she deadpanned.

“Easy come, easy go, right?” His smile grew a little. “I don’t wanna pry or anything, but is it really that surprising? She said you were her mom like, a dozen times during camp.”

“I suppose not. It caught me very off-guard, though. Teether and Tommy sort of switch between Rachel and Mom, but Melvin’s never really seemed like she even wanted that sort of, I don’t know, ‘Official’ title for me.”

“Listen, the whole ‘mom’ thing isn’t as scary as you’re making it out to be. You’re already giving her the kind of love a mom is supposed to, and she loves you. She talks about all the time with stars in her eyes. Being adopted doesn’t make her less your daughter. Rita Farr isn’t any less my mom for taking me in when I was eight, and Marie Logan isn’t any more or less important to me just because she’s not around.”

Rachel took a breath and sighed it out. “Thank you. That does make it easier.” They walked in silence for a short time. “Wait, Rita Farr, as in the movie star? As in, the philanthropist and art collector, married to Steve Dayton?”

He blushed a little. “Whoops, probably shouldn’ta dropped that so casually, I guess. Yeah. Steve and Rita adopted me when my parents died. It’s not always easy, but I love ‘em.” He watched her reaction carefully, hoping she wouldn’t suddenly start treating him differently for having such well-known parents.

Rachel schooled her face after having that bombshell dropped on her. “Well, if we ever meet we’ll be able to talk about some historic pieces she has that I wrote papers on.”

A beat passed, then Gar’s loud laugh broke relative silence of the forest. “Aw man, she is gonna love you.”

And just like that, the tension was broken. All the concern, the lack of balance, everything fell away, and the static buzz of easy conversation punctuated by something just a little too close to intimate for an average friendship was back.

They wandered together down the shady paths, miles away and only a few trees distant from the campground. Rachel didn’t notice the distance she had walked on the formerly dreaded forest hike, and Garfield forgot to try quite so hard with his jokes and wise cracks. They walked, hand in hand and only somewhat realizing how close they were to one another, shoulders nearly touching.

The spell was eventually broken, as they always are. They rounded a final bend, seeing in the distance the campground they had left, what, less than an hour ago? And the reality that they had left behind when they entered the sun-shafted canopies woke them up, and they found that really, their hands were quite slick. Had they been clasped together the whole time? And Rachel, especially, was starting to sweat from the heat and the walk. Garfield was suddenly nervous, after all, he never talked this much, not without making a fool of himself.

But even after emerging from that hazy dream, they held on, gently rising out of the fog and into the real world so no sudden movements could disrupt the memory, the closeness that two almost strangers that fit together like complementary puzzle pieces had shared.

It wasn’t even fully dispelled when their hands slipped apart to be wiped on cargo shorts or dark jeans, though the almost hidden flight from behind a few low-branched trees of blonde hair and untied shoelaces and quiet giggle quickly sobered them.

Garfield turned. “Was that -?”

“Melvin. Oh, that little brat, she is too damn smart for her own good. I would put money on her scheming to get us alone.” Rachel fumed and her face tightened into a mask of cold anger. “I can’t believe that she would manipulate me like this! How could she – How could she finally call me -” and the mask broke, shifting from anger to near tears in seconds.

Gar panicked. “Whoa, hold on, no. She’s not that cruel, I know it and so do you. We’re probably missing something. You just said you can’t believe she would do this – she probably didn’t. Rae I promise you, there’s got to be an explanation that makes sense.”

Rachel took a deep breath, followed by another, centering herself. “I am going to get to the bottom of this. Where would she be doing this “project” she made up?”

“The craft cabin. I’ll take you there, but I guarantee you it’s not as bad as it might sound.”

It was like the crowd parted for them without even reacting. No one looked at the worried counselor or at the steely featured parent, but nonetheless they found their path almost unimpeded. Gar held up a hand just outside the door. “Let me get you two some privacy. Please.”

“Fine. Do it.” Terse and unhappy, Rachel’s displeasure was apparent in her voice, and it made Garfield wince.

He opened the door to see five preteen girls, huddled and tittering. At least until they saw him and his serious frown. Then their eyes went wide, and they looked to Melvin in a panic. “Out, girls. Clear the room. Not you, Melvin.” He stopped her when she tried to take shelter in the middle of the pack. He turned to follow them, and glanced back almost pityingly, then shook his head and exited.

The girls all ducked their heads when they saw Rachel just outside the cabin and hurried off, racing to be the first around the corner and away from the ticking time bomb.

Garfield simply nodded, and left her to it. Rachel entered the cabin and saw Melvin almost trembling, and it broke her heart. She had worked up a head of steam on the walk and the wait, but seeing her precious daughter actually afraid stopped any real anger and left only a bitter emptiness.

Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. She settled on a vague, open armed shrug gesture. “Why, Mel? Was it just a prank? Just a way to manipulate me?”

Tears brimmed in Melvin’s eyes. “No, I just wanted to give you guys a chance to talk alone. I’m sorry I lied, I really did try on the lanyard, but I’m just bad at them so I had Kole do it. I’m sorry, I am.”

“What? What lanyard? Melvin, I don’t care if you had a friend help with a lanyard! I just can’t believe that you would call me your mom, just to trick me into talking to someone. I can’t tell you how badly that hurts me. I… I love you too much for that.”

“What!No, nononono, Mom, I promise that wasn’t a trick. I promise. I was gonna talk to you about it, but I just – I thought that if I – I thought that maybe if I just did it you’d just let me and maybe you’d talk to him and then it everything would be perfect. I promise. I love you, Mom. I do. And I was just trying to maybe make you not spend all your time watching me and talk to him. He’s really cool, and I could tell you like him, and he’s completely in love with you, and you’re perfect for each other. I was just trying to help you be happy!” She sobbed, breathless.

Rachel froze, then instinctively wrapped her daughter in her arms and let her cry. “Mel, you don’t need to worry about me. I am happy, I promise. I don’t need you to try to trick me into being happy. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to say I’m not mad, but I get it. You don’t have to trick me into talking to, what did you call him, “really old, like 50 years old” guys? If we talk, we talk. That’s how adults work.”

“No, it’s not! I’ve never seen you go on a date, and you just ignore people when they try to talk to you. I know it was dumb, but I had to try something ‘cause otherwise you’d just give him that serious face until he ran away, and he’s perfect for you if you’d just give him a chance!”

“Mel. Mel, okay. I promise. I will give him a chance. But you don’t need to be worried about me. I don’t need a twelve year old playing matchmaker. You should be doing kid things, not bad romcom plots.”

“*SNRK*. They’re not bad. They’re sweet. And you like them, otherwise you wouldn’t have so many of them.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and glowered.

Rachel internally cursed Kori. “If you say so. Now let’s sit here for a minute, then we can go wash your face and you can go hand out with your friends. And I will have a talk with Garfield, and you will not stick your nose into my dating life. Understand?”

“Yes, mom.”

It still startled Rachel to hear that coming from Melvin, but it also warmed her heart. She hadn’t even known she wanted it until it happened, but it was like a spoken guarantee that she really was doing things right, and her little family really was working.

They sat together and Melvin showed her the lanyard that she had made via Kole. Rachel put it on the silver chain she wore around her neck and let it rest beside her heart promising mostly to herself that it would be kept safe at home. Then, when Mel had calmed down, they headed to the bathroom where Mel cleaned the tear tracks from her dirt-smudged face and rinsed her red rimmed eyes. Rachel gave her a final kiss on the forehead, and sent her off.

Gar found her standing there, staring off into space against the wall of the concrete shack. He leaned against it and slid down to sit around the corner and next to her. “So.”

“So,” she said back.

“Not saying it just to confuse you?” He glanced at her, gauging her reaction.

“No. But she wasn’t against confusing me.”

His eyebrow cocked. “Not mad?”

“Still mad. Still going to be grounded, probably. But she did it out of love.”

“Y’know, I don’t want to say I told you so, but...”

“But you totally want to say ‘I told you so,’” she finished for him.

“Yep. So what now?”

“Now, I guess I do what I was going to do before we had all this to deal with,” she said, the soul of nonchalance.

“What’s that?” he said, and when she didn’t respond, he stood up and looked around the corner. “Rae?”

“This.” with only his head around the corner, she turned and kissed him, gentle and sweet, and far too short for either of them. “I’d like to go out sometime. I want to take you to a behind the scenes at the museum, and I’ll let you choose the restaurant.”

His head spun and his eyes were out of focus. His thoughts were like molasses and he could barely get out the word “Okay.” before she was gone, a little bounce in her step.

AO3 FF.net

[highflyerwings]

i understand your hesitance to abide by the notion of him being the bullied one but there’s also the cultural aspect and difference in bullying when it comes to countries outside of america, not to say that your perception isn’t valid because of course like you’ve discussed in previous posts with the whole “bundy effect” of gangjae being an attractive man definitely contributes to why most people would want to say he’s a victim rather than a perpetrator and i love the way you make your own perceptions known and don’t budge on that! my ‘diagnosis’ of him isn’t law and i adore hearing other views but it’s just things i’ve gathered from my work and behavioural patterns and small tics i’ve noticed in him, i believe the part you said about hanging out with his loser friends picking on people even further down the social chain than him totally i can see that and agree because he was by no means entirely innocent, to be honest a lot of the early traits i can see him mirroring remind me of Kevin Khatchadourian (main character from we need to talk about kevin) and whilst Kevin was a very blatant portrayal of ASPD the way he treated his sibling/people he perceived as lower than him is the same way i can see gangjae acting albeit with alot more emotional intelligence on gangjae’s part, i’d love to hear some of your headcanons or analysis on gangjae’s behaviour too! we can exchange things i adore talking about it (also thank you tumblr user hakjoos for the comments on my previous anon asks hehehe), i’m very much new to my name and the fandom as i finished it last week and your blog was the only one i stumbled across that gave lengthy discussions like this -🦇

You're very right! There is the cultural aspect to take into account. So my opinion is very much biased. In that aspect, I really have no say whatsoever. I know the bullying culture in SKorea is very different than in the states, so there likely is a lot of cause and effect that wouldn't hold up here in the US.

My interpretation of Gangjae (of all the characters really), is influenced by a western point of view. My Name feels very much like a Hollywood movie. Like, it feels very John Wick (which I know is itself influenced by Korean revenge movies), but I guess I'm coming from it from that aspect too. The tropes in My Name kind of transcend culture, and while there are obviously heavy Korean undertones, it's easy to get caught up in applying your own cultural lens to it.

In any case, as far as the psychology of Gangjae goes, I will simply have to defer to you lol. Again, I've taken few psychology courses, and...quite honestly I have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about (why do you all even ask me questions lol), so what I've said is pretty much the extent of my headcanons of Gangjae's behavior. Simply that he was a shitty person, who was always shitty, and was always going to be shitty, but I love him very much.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me! Honestly, it's so interesting to hear other people's perspective, especially when they have a different spin on the topic or expertise in a certain area than I do.

I DONT KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU THIS BUT THAT MAKES YOU MORE INTIMIDATING.

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 45

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3.

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---

Chapter 45

“Happy Christmas, you two.” Molly gave Ron and Hermione each a hug as they emerged from the fireplace on Christmas morning. Every Christmas she became a little brighter and cheerful, even more so this time considering all of her children had promised to come home — even Charlie — and two grandchildren to dote on.

Bill and Fleur had had their second child — another girl — Dominique a few months back, which had thrilled Molly and Arthur.

Where Victoire was fair with her mother’s hair and complexion, Dominique was every inch a Weasley from her red hair to her freckles and what Bill described as a feisty personality. Ron had only seen her a handful of times, and of those times, Victoire had expressed jealousy at anyone showing interest in her younger sister. She was of the age where accidental magic could start showing, and Victoire had not held back on that front.

A few exploded windows and an unhinged door had prevented Ron and Hermione from visiting Shell Cottage for some months.

But now she happily ran into the living room behind Teddy Lupin, both carrying a bunch of stuffed toys in their arms, presumably Christmas presents, chatting away in their kiddie speech.

“Gamma,” Victoire said to Molly. “You play?”

“In a moment, dear,” Molly said, stepping away from Ron. “I have some things to do to get ready for Christmas before I can.”

“How about you ask Uncle Charlie again?” George, who was sitting with Harry and Ginny in the living room, said. “He loved it last time.”

That, Ron surmised, was a total lie. Ron hadn’t seen his brother in a while, but by the look on Charlie’s face, he had no desire to play with Victoire and Teddy. Especially with stuffed toys.

“It’s a shame there’s no dragons to play with, huh?” Ron said, stepping around his mother to embrace Charlie.

“Yeah, but there’s a few stuffed ones in that extensive collection,” Charlie said. “Courtesy of me.” He grinned. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “You need to drop by more often.”

“I hear you have a nice place now,” Charlie said, looking between Ron and Hermione, who was still by the fireplace. “In Nottingham?”

“We also have a spare room.”

“I’ll consider that,” Charlie said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. Underneath his shirt Ron caught a glimpse of a tail flicking up his arm and smiled, wondering if Molly had ever discovered the large dragon tattoo Charlie had across his body. When Molly wasn’t around, it usually stretched down the length of both arms and across his chest. But with his mother present, he kept it hidden underneath his clothes.

No one had ever bothered mentioning it to her, though Ron was sure even Victoire knew about it by now.

“We’re just waiting on Percy and Audrey, and then we can start with opening some presents,” Molly said, smiling at them all.

“Yay!” Victoire said, dumping her toys on the floor in front of her. She hurried over to the Christmas tree where all the presents were laid out and kneeled on the ground to stare at them.

Her restraint was admirable, Ron thought. He couldn’t really remember being two and a half, but he was sure he would have been far more curious about what was inside the paper.

Not that there had ever been that many presents under the tree before. As the family grew, so did the number of gifts.

Molly beamed at Victoire on the floor, as if watching her granddaughter’s excitement over Christmas was the best gift she could ever receive.

And to her, it probably was.

“You do know they’re not all for you, don’t you, Vic?” George said.

Victoire ignored him, her eyes wide and watching as if she expected them to move.

“Hardly any, actually,” Bill said. “Considering she insisted on opening ours and Charlie’s before the rest of you got yourselves out of bed.”

Everyone smiled, and for a moment, they watched her, perhaps all reminiscing about their own Christmases when they were children.

It was nice to think that Teddy, Victoire, Dominique, and the other kids who’d be born in this generation would have the chance to enjoy times like this in a completely innocent way.

Percy and Audrey arrived a little while later, emerging from the fireplace, covered in soot. Audrey appeared totally bewildered by the experience, saying something about how she could do that one hundred times and still not be used to it.

Percy cleaned her up with his wand, apologising for being late, but adding how much of an effort getting the Ministry to permit Muggles to travel via wizarding transportation methods had been.

Despite the progression the wizarding world had been making over the years, Muggle relations were still a topic with a lot of room to work with. There had been a large number of magical folk marrying Muggles over the last few years, which had sparked an inquiry into how much they should know, and if husbands or wives or girlfriends and boyfriends were to be introduced into magical society, how were they supposed to go about that?

Most people were in agreement that Muggles who married into wizarding families should be granted privileges by the Ministry to Floo travel and Side-along Apparition, but there was a whole issue regarding the Statute of Secrecy and the legalities surrounding that.

Ron heard about it at work due to working in the Magical Law Department, but none of that was his expertise, nor was it Harry’s or Hermione’s. Last he had heard, the laws were still against the idea, hence why Hermione’s parents couldn’t be Apparated to the middle of nowhere for a wedding, but perhaps because Percy worked in the Transportation department he had been given additional privileges for Christmas.

“Don’t you control the Magical Transportation area?” Bill asked.

“Yes, but that is a matter for Magical Law and there’s some incredibly stubborn people over there.” Percy looked to Harry and Ron, as if it were their fault that Audrey couldn’t travel to the Burrow at will.

“We’re Aurors, Perce. Nothing to do with us.”

“Not to matter, you’re here now,” Molly said.

“Pwesents?” Victoire asked suddenly.

“Just after your mother comes down from putting your sister to sleep, dear,” Molly said.

Victoire pouted.

“You’ve already opened four this morning,” Bill said, amused. “How many more do you think there are?”

“All!” Victoire said.

“They’re not all for you,” Bill replied.

Victoire pouted again. “Pwesents for me?”

“Some, maybe,” Bill said. “But not all.”

Ron knew of at least one for Victoire. Hermione had bought it, explaining that Christmas was a magical time for children and that she thought Victoire would like what she had bought. She’d also bought a gift for Dominique, who was only three months old and would be asleep anyway, and Teddy, too, who seemed less interested in presents and more interested in climbing into Harry’s lap. Ron smiled. He was glad Andromeda had decided to come celebrate with them this year.

Though, Ron was a bit worried about the growing bunch of Weasleys when it came to Christmases.

When Hermione had insisted on buying Victoire her present, he’d even expressed some of that fear. “So, if Percy and Audrey have kids, and Harry and Ginny, George, Charlie… if we have kids, you’re planning on buying for all of them?” Ron had asked her. “I mean, I’m one of seven. What if everyone has seven kids?”

“We are not having seven children,” was all she had said on that matter.

So Ron had supposed that the answer was yes; she would buy for all of them.

Soon Fleur returned, and Victoire insisted that she and Teddy start handing out the presents, and with help from Bill, the pair spent their time distributing gifts to everyone. Bill had to point to Charlie a number of times for Victoire, since she wasn’t as familiar with him and kept forgetting, but she seemed to know who everyone else was and trotted over, handing them presents. Teddy took the charge on Harry’s and Ginny’s, as well as his grandmother’s once she’d finished up in the kitchen and joined everyone.

It was an extremely slow process, but still a fun one now that the kids were old enough to be aware of what was happening. Victoire was excited, but the moment she received presents for herself, Bill was forced to distribute the rest, which went much faster because he had a wand.

With their wedding in a few months and most of their money going towards that, Ron and Hermione had agreed to not do much for Christmas with each other this year. But still, Ron had gotten her some new books about the history of goblin and elf rights he’d seen her eyeing, and she’d given him a season pass to all Chudley Cannons games for the next season.

It wasn’t much different from last Christmas, but both of them were pleased.

“You mean, you want to travel around the country attending the games with me?” he asked, grinning at her.

“Well… no… I thought you could go with Harry. Or George. Or Charlie, if he can. But I can if you want me to.”

“Of course I’d want you to come, but I know you’d hate that, so I’ll ask Harry?”

She smiled. “I’ll come to the one Ginny is playing?”

“That’s the first game,” Ginny said, coming over to them as the mere mention of it invited her into any conversation. “Just got the schedule before Christmas. You’ll be there?”

“Yes,” Ron and Hermione said together.

“Oh, great! I’ll see if I can get you guys some good seats. I think it’s being played in Holyhead…”

“We’ll be there,” Hermione said.

Ginny beamed. “It’ll be great if you guys can come. Charlie has even promised to get to a few this year. Bill said he might take Victoire to one or two.”

“Lunch will be ready soon,” Molly said, coming from the kitchen.

“I hungwy,” Victoire said, dropping her toys and running from the living room.

Everyone else slowly climbed to their feet and came into the kitchen.

Upon seeing the set table and the number of chairs surrounding it, a sense of peace washed over Ron. He loved Christmas. Even though he got to see his family throughout the year — weekly, really — there was something really special about this time of the year. He remembered Christmas as a child and how fun it had been, but it now seemed even better. Each year, the table grew. More chairs were added as more people came into their lives. Soon there’d be no room in the kitchen to eat at all and they’d be forced into the garden in the middle of winter.

For now, it was just Victoire and Teddy, but next year would it be Dominique? Or would Percy and Audrey have a baby? Would George meet someone he’d like to bring? Or Charlie?

Next year he would have spent almost a whole year married to Hermione, Victoire would be even older and Dominique would probably be walking around, too.

He was used to large numbers in his family, and it seemed only fitting that it would just keep growing over the years. It made each Christmas more enjoyable than the last.

Ron had never realised how much he enjoyed his large family. As a child, it had irritated him. He was the second youngest, constantly overshadowed and rarely had something that belonged to just him. But now, as an adult who was making his own way in life, he'd come to appreciate it more.

He appreciated his parents who had done their best, and each and every one of his siblings for who they were. Bill for always taking him seriously when he felt no one else did, Charlie for being the laid back brother who could cheer him up, and even Percy, who’d gotten so much better over the years. He was so close to George and Ginny now, seeing them on a weekly basis, which had never been the case a few years ago.

And Fred… well Fred would always be his brother and he’d always miss him. For as long as he lived.

But this new appreciation for the family he already had had him thinking more and more about what the future held for him. And Hermione.

They’d started their own lives together, in which he was so incredibly happy, and he naturally thought about their family. It didn’t exist yet, but he wanted it, and in the recent months he’d found himself wanting it more.

He wanted to have children with her — he wanted what Bill had — and he felt that soon would be the right time.

He was young still — they both were — but he didn’t really feel that young. He felt so much older and much more mature than people who hadn’t fought in a war at eighteen. He felt as if he’d lived a lifetime already and that he was ready for the next step.

But this was also something — for the first time ever — that he was too afraid to talk to Hermione about. They were on the same page about many things, but he felt that this would be something they weren’t. She said she saw children in their future, but he knew her idea of the future was still a few years away. She was so focused on her career at the moment that he didn’t want to ruin it for her.

She’d say it wasn’t the right time, they weren’t ready, and truthfully, he knew she was right. It just didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did.

“Hungwy!” Victoire said, drawing Ron back to the table. “I hungwy.”

“You’re always ‘ungry,” Fleur said with a smile directed towards her daughter, but she passed Victoire a plate of food. Victoire began eating straight away.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, nudging Ron with her arm. “It’s not like you to be so quiet here.”

“I’m fine,” Ron said, nodding. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“Lots of things. Mostly about you.”

She smiled, and from across the table he saw Ginny roll her eyes at Harry, who just laughed to himself.

Ron didn’t care. He was happy, he was content, and he didn’t care if that pissed off the Minister for Magic himself.

It made him feel good.

…

A week later, they were at The Leaky Cauldron with a ton of students from their year. Harry, Ginny, Neville, Hannah, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Padma and a few others Padma had invited were all celebrating the end of the year. Hannah had invited them, choosing the place she and her Healing crew had been celebrating at for the last few years.

Ron usually didn’t care too much for New Year’s celebrations, but he felt this one would be worth it.

“You know,” Hermione said as the large clock Tom had put in for the occasion read one minute to the new year, “in one minute it’ll be the year we’re getting married.”

Ron smiled at her as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He drew her towards him. “The best year yet. I can feel it.”

“And another year further away from the past, and a step closer to the future.”

He kissed her.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait for the new year to do that?” she asked.

“Last one of this year, then I’ll kiss you again in thirty seconds as the first kiss of the new year.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“And this will be the last time I tell you I love you for this year, too.”

Hermione drew him into a deep kiss. He could vaguely hear the others beginning to count down, but he really didn’t care for New Year’s celebrations.

When she pulled away, her lips tasting of a few too many Butterbeers, she smiled up at him and said, “Happy year of becoming my husband.”

“I love you,” Ron said and he kissed her again. Their first kiss of what he knew would be the best year of his life.

[yoonjinkooked]

Kitchen Confidential | Jin (3)

banner: @casuallyimagining​

PART 1  /  PART 2

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: slow burn with explicit sex later, cursing 

Word Count: 5.447 

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Earlier this morning, you have decided that the time has come to ask Namjoon for a raise. You work hard, do your job well and make sure that the customers walk out of Bonsai with smiles on their faces and bellies full of good food. Having spent most of the day hopping around on one leg, leaning on either Jungkook or Hoseok, going from one room to another to participate in some stupid team building trust exercises, you were agitated and ready for this weekend to be over.

From the moment you’ve opened your eyes, you were in a sour mood. Ankle still very much in pain, you were already thinking about how the hell you are supposed to survive tomorrow in the kitchen – and if you can’t, could you confidently give the control over to Jungkook? And like that wasn’t enough, Kim Seokjin was everywhere. Very literally, everywhere.

Across the table from you at breakfast, two chairs down from you during the lecture you had to sit through and ever as a member of your scavenger hunt team. A scavenger hunt you’ve participated in by sitting on the floor at “home base” and waited for the rest to return with puzzle pieces. And while you helped the team solve the puzzle, Seokjin was right next to you.

The only form of communication between you were the nods you’ve exchanged at breakfast. Other than that, he didn’t say a word and neither did you. At first you thought he was simply going to ignore you for the rest of the day, something you wouldn’t have any complaints about whatsoever, but soon enough you’ve started noticing how Kim Seokjin spends a surprising amount of time just… looking at you. And not just at times when you speak or have the attention on you anyways, oh no. He’d look at you when you’re silent, when you’re minding your own business and always, always, when he thinks that you’re not noticing it. Every time you’d lift your head up and look his way, he’d suddenly find something else more interesting than you.

Even now, sitting between him and Jungkook, you can feel his stare on you. That on itself would be high key unnerving, but after the conversation you’ve had with Jungkook last night, you can’t help but wonder if he had a point. As crazy as it sounded last night, what if Jungkook was right and Kim Seokjin does actually like you?

Perhaps like is not an appropriate word. Can he like you if he doesn’t even know you? Yeah, he’s known you for years but not you as a person, not you as a friend. Attraction might be a better explanation to the current situation. Is Kim Seokjin attracted to you? That’s a bit doubtful but then again, why wouldn’t he be? And he truly is paying more attention to you now than before. Or maybe you’re just noticing it more now. Just how Jungkook had promised you would.

“Now,” Lucy, the weirdly hyperactive middle aged woman leading today’s exercises claps her hands so loudly, you find yourself jumping in surprise. Shaking your head, you empty it of Kim Seokjin and worries about tomorrow’s service and focus on surviving this current form of torture that you are stuck in. “I know some of you guys are closer than the others. After all, you are two teams in one. But for this next exercise, I want you to completely ignore that. If you are close, perfect, it’s going to be fun and easy. If you’re not, just do your best and try. It’ll all help you in the end, help you in trusting your team more than you did before,” she explains. You nod, still wondering how the hell this can help your team work better and why Namjoon thought it was necessary.

“So,” once again, her hand clapping startles you. “You’ll be in pairs. To keep things simple, it’ll be just down the line of how you guys are sitting,” she smiles and this time, you are very startled. Looking down your left, you saw Jimin and Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung, Soobin and… Jungkook. It was a mistake to waddle after Jungkook just because you wanted to stay next to him, in your comfort zone. Now you’re stuck with the man on your right. You’re stuck with Kim Seokjin.

“What exactly are we supposed to do?” Wendy, the hostess from Catnip asks. You see her sitting next to Taehyun and you wonder if the two have ever actually talked to one another before.

“Talk,” you want to roll your eyes when the annoying lady in charge laughs at Wendy. “Just talk. If you go way back, talk about how you met. If you barely know each other, get to know each other. After a while we’ll regroup here and I’ll ask you a couple of questions. I’d suggest you find an empty room or table, maybe go outside and get some fresh air? Let’s say, come back here in an hour? And then we can continue with the exercise.”

An hour of talking with Seokjin. Yes, you’re definitely asking Namjoon for a raise.

“Are you okay with not going far?” you ask Seokjin as you stand up, already wincing at the sharp pain your ankle causes you – if this intensity of pain continues tomorrow, you’re going to have to get it checked by a doctor. “I’d rather not test my leg today.”

“Yeah, sure,” Seokjin agrees immediately, standing up beside you. “Do you need help?” he asks.

You want to say no, you truly do. Knowing that your leg won’t appreciate your pettiness, you nod. “Please,” he immediately offers you his arm, which you cling onto as you start bouncing your way out of the hall, not knowing where exactly you’re heading. “Where should we go?” you ask.

“How about the hotel café?” he suggests as he patiently walks in your speed. “It’s pretty much next door and we can drink some coffee?”

“Sure.”

It’s awkward. Perhaps even more awkward than it would have been if last night’s conversation didn’t take place. Both of you are trying extra hard to be polite and it’s just… unnatural. Throwing around snarky comments and eye rolls is more your area of expertise. Now you’re all polite and he’s the perfect gentlemen, even pulling out your chair for you and insisting on buying coffee. It’s weird and awkward and all kinds of wrong.

“So…” he drags out as you reluctantly make eye contact with him. Is this the first time today that you’ve actually looked at each other? He’s been looking away too quickly for you to catch him this entire day. “We’re supposed to talk about when we met?”

It’s ironic now, extremely ironic. Direct eye contact makes Seokjin look more intimidating than he usually does, at least now when you are alone with him. And that feeling of being slightly intimidated by him is something you can vaguely remember from a period that seems like a lifetime ago.

“Didn’t we drink too much during school to remember that?” you ask, smiling when he laughs because yes, you absolutely did drink too much during school. Every damn weekend there was some party, held by someone from your year and you all took every chance that you’ve had for cheap alcohol and an excuse to not study. “But now that you mention it, I do remember one particular scene from the very first day of school.”

Okay, you’re lying. While you don’t remember much, you didn’t suddenly experience a surge of long lost memories coming back to you. The incident in question is something that you’ve never really forgotten since the day it happened, although you don’t think of it often.

“Oh god, what?” Seokjin looks worried and you laugh, knowing that he knows damn well that it’s bad.

“How do you call a cheese that isn’t yours?” you repeat the exact same words that you heard him saying the first day of school, laughing as you watch the pure horror on his face. It’s easy to laugh at him facing his dark past, although a part of you doesn’t believe that he regrets it, not for one second.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he whines.

“Nachocheese. Nacho fucking cheese,” you finish the joke, laughing so hard you feel your eyes watering. It doesn’t help when he looks at you and sighs, pretending that it’s different now, that this is not something he still does and that he does not have a wide array of similar jokes ready to go at any given moment.

“No wonder you hated my ass,” he chuckles, reaching for his cup of coffee.

“I never hated you,” you frown at him, pausing to sip on your own Americano. “Wow, hotel food is horrible but hotel coffee is decent,” you mumble in amazement, enjoying the taste. “Anyways, I didn’t hate you, not then, not now. Don’t get me wrong, you were a pain in my ass but I can distinctly remember laughing at that nacho cheese joke.”

“Huh, I wonder when I ruined that,” he says jokingly but with the way he looks down at the table, you can’t help but wonder if there’s a part of him that’s dead serious. With the events of last night still fresh in your mind, it’s hard to consider him anything but genuine. And with Jungkook’s words also fresh in your mind, you truly don’t want to have a chance to overthink about Seokjin. Especially not while he’s sitting directly in front of you.

“Probably when you changed the labels on salt and sugar jars when we had to make soufflés for an exam. I’m sure you remember that vividly.”

“No!” he lifts his finger up in warning. “I know it was too far but I also knew you’d be smart enough to taste before using! I knew you weren’t going to fall for it.”

“And yet you did it anyways,” you laugh, shaking your head as you remind yourself to not waste your time trying to find logic in Seokjin’s actions. “You’re so fucking lucky I didn’t fall for it. If I had used salt instead of sugar, I would have flunked and would have kicked your ass,” you tell him and you absolutely mean it. If his sabotage or fake sabotage had worked, you would have murdered him in cold blood, then and there.

“I trusted that the most brilliant chef on our year would taste the ingredients before using them,” he tries to flatter you to save himself and it works. It fucking works, because here you are, laughing.

“You’re such an ass,” you shake your head at him, chuckling at his antics. “But yeah. You did it, I didn’t fall for it, you lived. Do you remember when Jimin did that to Taehyung?”

“Yes,” Seokjin bursts into laughter. “And Taehyung did fall for it but it wasn’t for an exam, was it?”

“Nope, it was just regular class,” you confirm, smiling at the memory. “He was chasing Jimin around the hallways with that big ass whisk that hung on the wall as decoration.”

“What the hell was that whisk there for?” Seokjin’s eyes are wide and he sits up, suddenly… being irritated by a whisk? “It was always there, since day one. Just that one gigantic whisk. No one ever used it, right? It was just… there. What was the purpose of it?”

“Other than almost being used as a murder weapon once, I don’t think it was ever used for anything.”

“Do you remember that one time Jungkook had dropped one of those 10kg bags of flour?”  

“Oh god, he dropped it on Hoseok’s foot!” you jump up, suddenly remembering the scene that you didn’t think about in years. You can even recall the sound of pain that had left Hoseok. “And the bag ripped!” tears run down your face as you laugh at yet another idiotic memory of your school days.

“We were cleaning that damn flour all day,” Jin adds and you can clearly remember being on all fours with the rest of your class, laughing and cursing as you wipe the mess your friends made earlier, while someone was playing some random song way too loud.

Wiping away your tears, you take a deep breath, wondering if by the time your hour runs out, you’ll have to reluctantly admit that this exercise wasn’t so shitty after all.

“Can you manage?” Seokjin asks as he lets you lean on him again, on full alert to catch you if you stumble. You confirm with a nod. “Are you sure?” he checks again but you don’t have the time to answer as Lucy, the lady in charge, comes rushing towards the two of you.

“Hi!” She smiles in a way that makes you feel instantly uncomfortable. “Namjoon tells me that the two of you are team leaders in your respective restaurants.”

“Well, not really. We’re the team leaders in the kitchen, not in the restaurants,” Seokjin explains.

“Yeah, we’re not in charge for the front of house teams,” you add, looking around the hall where everyone else had already started to gather. “If you want team leaders, you’d need us, Yoongi and Namjoon as well as Mina and Wendy. We’re all in charge of different tasks.”

“Yeah, but kitchen teamwork is the most important,” Lucy laughs.

“Um, not necessarily,” Seokjin counters her immediately. “Front of house is just as important as-“

“Yes, but Namjoon tells me the two of you don’t exactly get along,” Lucy interrupts him. You shake your head, having just spent an hour down memory lane with Seokjin – Namjoon’s kiss ass, teacher’s pet nature is still showing after all these years. “I think it would set a good example for other pairs if the two of you go first. Are you up for it?” she asks and Seokjin turns to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“Why not?” you would shrug too, if you weren’t too busy clutching onto Seokjin’s arm.

“Perfect, follow me,” she orders the two of you and you follow her, standing behind her as she faces the rest of your co-workers. The entire scene must be comical, seeing as you are still very much hopping and clinging onto Seokjin and neither of you have any idea what’s about to happen. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you, starting to laugh when you glare at him. Oh, but he doesn’t stop there – while Lucy talks, he wiggles his eyebrows and you don’t need to be a genius to know he’s teasing you for your arm candy. Here you go again, thinking about what he said last night.

“Y/N,” you snap out of your daze when Lucy calls your name. Shit, you weren’t listening. “Go on. Tell us what you admire about Seokjin.”

Oh fucking hell, no wonder why most of your co-workers look like they’re a few seconds away from laughing. Just a few days ago, you wanted to snap his neck, not caring who’d be there to witness it and now you are supposed to talk about him and what you admire most about him. In public. In front of people who have known you, and have more than enough blackmail material, for years.

“Can I just like… get a chair?” you ask awkwardly and thank god, Lucy walks over quickly to drag one to you. Once you’re seated and no longer attached to Seokjin, he does the same and sits his chair next to yours while you wait in awkward silence and pray this moment won’t last long because everyone is watching you and you want to cry. “Okay. I guess it’s not a secret that Seokjin and I aren’t exactly best of friends,” you start, immediately embarrassed by the few snickers coming from your co-workers.

“That’s an understatement,” Jimin mumbles loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’re a jackass,” you smile at him, ignoring the kiss he blows your way. “Anyways, I know Seokjin and I aren’t always on the same page but when I think of what I admire about him…” you pause, thinking of right words to express your thoughts. “I admire his talent. He is a brilliant chef. Of course, I’m better, don’t get it twisted,” everyone in the room laughs at your remark, even Seokjin. Which is a relief, as much as you hate to admit it. ”I humbly think that I’m better a better chef, but I work hard. And way back when, I studied hard. Seokjin never had to. He’s a natural. I’ve… seen him improvise and create amazing dishes without much effort. Or at least he just knows how to make it look easy. But yeah, I admire his ability. And even though I will deny saying this for the rest of my life, I kind of envy him for it too.”

Everyone laughs and when you find the strength in you to look at him, you notice Seokjin smiling. Something that you’ve never noticed before is how calm and content he looks when he’s smiling. It’s miles away from his roaring laughter, just a simple smile and a nod of his head that tells you he’s thankful for your words. He has a beautiful smile and you’ve never paid attention to it before.

You look away immediately once you realize this, but you make the mistake of looking towards Jungkook. Whatever it is that just happened, he saw it. And you’re pretty sure you’ll get an earful later, judging by the way he questioningly raised his eyebrows at you.

“I might regret being completely honest here, so I’ll pull Y/N’s card and if anyone uses this against me, I’ll deny it,” a chorus of chuckles follows Seokjin’s words. You listen carefully but don’t dare to look at him – staring at your convers seems much more appealing right now. “I admire Y/N’s ability to be one with you guys. The way she gets along with her team is amazing. I know I have an amazing team that has my back always but Hoseok straight up sabotaged his own team yesterday during paintball because he’s that loyal to his actual team. Y/N is the glue that keeps you together, functioning as well as you do. I try to do the same. Not sure if it works but I truly admire that about her.”

You’re not sure if Seokjin knows how much hearing that meant to you. Shame swallows you when you realize you didn’t do half as much to portray him as someone you admire, even though not a single word of what you’ve said was a lie. Knowing that someone, someone who is arguably just as good as you are in the industry that you are in, thinks that you are admirable for the way you lead your team has to be one of the best compliments that you have ever received.

He didn’t praise you in an over the top way and honestly, he didn’t have to. He said the one thing that you actually hoped to hear, from someone, at some point in your career.

Did Seokjin know that? Was it a happy accident or does he actually pay attention enough to know how much your relationship with your team matters to you? Before this weekend team building disaster, you would have laughed at the suggestion that Seokjin had paid enough attention to notices something like that. After everything that has happened since, you’re not so sure. Maybe Seokjin did pay attention, more than you ever have.

There’s a thing that Jungkook does whenever he has something to say, but doesn’t want to say it. He tends to purse his lips, either in annoyance or in a desperate attempt to hold back his laughter. He looks away from the person he wants to say it to and it’s usually followed with his leg bouncing up and down.

The lip thing started while you were still at the hotel parking lot. The leg thing started half a mile ago.

“Whatever it is that you’re holding back, just say it.” you know you sound irritated and he hasn’t even said anything. But knowing him, and sadly, you know him well, whatever it is… it’s going to bother you.

“I’m not holding back anything,” he insists, but he almost breaks out in a chuckle. He is barely holding back. You can tell that it’s coming.

“Say it!” you growl at him.

“Seokjin and Y/N, sitting in a tree,” he starts singing. Yep, you were right. It is bothering you. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes rivalry, then comes flirting, then comes-“

“Oh my god, stop!” you whine. The last thing you want to hear is how he plans on finishing the song. “I knew you were holding something back. There’s nothing happening with Seokjin!”

“I know there isn’t, you’re still in denial,” he laughs, not moving his eyes from the road. “You are now entering Denialtown. Population: Y/N.”

The easiest way to get Jungkook of your case is to simply ignore him. If you play along, he’ll take that as a confirmation and think that he’s right. If you get defensive, he won’t let it go, at least not before this car ride is over. The best thing you could do was ignore him and stare through the window in silence. At least the view is beautiful, with the purple, orange and pinkish sky. You didn’t get any rest over this weekend but at least you got a chance to spend some time outside, much more than you do on your regular weekends. Although a spa weekend would have been better. A spa weekend spent alone.

“I know you’re trying to shut me out,” you hear Jungkook chuckle. “By all means, do that. Still doesn’t change that Seokjin has the hots for you and judging by those exchanged looks between you, you don’t seem to mind.”

You wanted to deny but you kept your mouth shut, knowing how this will play out. Of course you looked at him – it would have been incredibly rude not to, seeing as you spent a good chunk of the day talking with him. What Jungkook is forgetting and you can’t is that you are still very much hurt with the events that preceded this weekend. Sure, Seokjin is acting all nice and yes, he’s not that bad to look at. Also, he did apologize for stealing your recipe but that doesn’t change the fact that he did it. You are still salty about it and whenever that saltiness starts to die down, you’ll remind yourself of it, just like you’re doing now. He can act all friendly and chummy but he straight up harmed your career.

The only reason he was being nice is because he knows what he has done. Perhaps he even fears your possible retaliation. Nice and cute he can be, but if you were not angry to the point of seeing red, this weekend wouldn’t even happen. He wouldn’t have been acting the way he was. You are 100% sure that he would have been his normal, annoying self, if that human part of him wasn’t feeling guilty.

“Do you think you’ll manage tomorrow on your own?” you blatantly change the topic. If he could afford to look away from the road before him, Jungkook would see that you are not amused, not in the least. Your tone must be enough for him to figure it out, because his teasing demeanor stops instantly, his smile turning into a frown. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to stand tomorrow. At least not for the whole shift,” you tell him.

It was settled before you left, that Jungkook will take your place. Namjoon insisted that you rest, however long it takes and no matter how much you were fighting him on it, he’s the boss and his word is last. He also had a good point – if you were to strain yourself, it could easily backfire and lead to more pain or a longer paid sick leave. Sure, it hurts less than it did yesterday and tomorrow morning, it’ll probably be better, but you know that Namjoon was right and that you really shouldn’t risk it.

That meant that your kitchen, your precious kitchen and team, will be in Jungkook’s hands tomorrow.

“It’s not the first time that I have to run the kitchen. Don’t you trust me?” Jungkook asks and you instantly feel bad for even asking if he’d be able to do it. You didn’t ask because you have doubts in his ability – you asked because you want to make sure that he’s comfortable.

“I’d trust you with my life, you dumbass,” you tell him and instantly feel your shoulders sag in relief when he starts laughing. “I don’t doubt your ability, I never have. I’m simply asking because before we’ve had time to prepare for you being in charge and me being away. This time it’s pretty sudden and I really don’t feel like pushing you into the fire.”

“I can handle fire just fine,” he reassures you. “And in case I need help, you’re one call away. Just… do your best to take this time to relax, not just rest your leg. Fuck, when’s the last time you’ve had a proper vacation?” he asks.

“Uh… define proper vacation.”

“More than three days off? In a row?” he suggests.

“Never?” you wonder out loud. “Not since I’ve started working full time, at least. I think I took a week off when we worked back at Dino’s?”

“Y/N, you need to take a little break,” Jungkook sounds serious, which suddenly makes you feel guilty because of your own irresponsibility. Looking away from him and focusing on the colorful sky again, you wonder how much your workaholic behavior had affected you without even realizing.

It’s not that you were missing any warning signs: you don’t feel overworked, you don’t hate your job, you do have hobbies you enjoy doing when you’re not working. If trying out new recipes, watching movies and hanging out with friends can count as hobbies. On the surface, it’s all fine and dandy but not taking more than three days off in a row is simply not normal. Being in love with your job and fully dedicated to it does not mean that you can’t be negatively affected by it.

Thinking back on the day of the review… a part of you really wanted to strangle Seokjin, then and there. There’s a whole backstory that almost made violence become your solution but maybe it was something more. Lack of patience, stress… Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you but suddenly taking a few days off doesn’t sound like such a horrible idea.

“You know, maybe asking Namjoon to take this whole week off is what I need to do.”

“That sounds good,” Jungkook agrees immediately. “You can rest your leg, relax, think of recipes for the fall menu… take some time off for yourself. I can handle the kitchen for a week.”

“Of course you can. One fine day when I grow a pair and decide to open my own restaurant, you’re going to be a head chef. Being in charge of everything for a little bit is going to be a good practice for that,” you tell him even though you’re pretty he could do a damn good job, even now.

“And here I thought I was going to be your sous chef forever,” he tells you. You immediately laugh but as you turn to look at him, there is a trace of a pout on his lips. Yeah, he’s joking but it doesn’t seem like this kind of joke sounds good to him. You want to coo at his pouty face.

“Kook. You can’t be my second in command forever,” you tell him, leaning over to tap him on the shoulder. “You’re too good of a chef for that. We’re a great team but keeping you a sous chef forever would be an insult to your talent. I’m not planning on going anywhere for now, so you have plenty of time to get used to the idea. But when I open my own place, Bonsai’s kitchen is yours. Unless you get sick of me first and leave,” you joke. “Or we can be partners and open our own place?”

“Nah,” Jungkook shakes his head so quickly, you almost feel insulted at the speed of his refusal. “You’ll open a place with Seokjin when the two of you get married.”

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes. How lovely, you can no longer even have a touching conversation without him turning it right back to the part where he teases you relentlessly. “You know, I might just speed up to the leaving part and leave your sorry ass in the kitchen alone.”

“I’m just joking!”

 You haven’t even realized how much you’ve missed the comfort of your own apartment, not until you closed the front door and leaned on it with your eyes closed. Too much has happened and instead of being a relaxing, team building event, this weekend felt more like two and a half days of pure stress, with a few jokes and a couple of drinks to make it easier.

Waddling your way to the kitchen, you decide to do the one thing that always helps you de-stress: cook.

It doesn’t take you long to pick out the ingredients and get ready for prep. Wash hands, butterfly the chicken breasts, move them to a plate, season them with salt and pepper, wash everything. Use a new chopping board and knife, get the cheese and prosciutto ready. Fill the chicken with cheese, wrap it with prosciutto. Pan on medium heat, oil. Get out the sauce ingredients and gnocchi.

It’s only when you’re opening the bag of gnocchi that you realize what you’re making. Using the ingredients at hand, things you had ready to go, food that needed to be used before going bad, you ended up halfway through the infamous chicken recipe that was reviewed by the critic.

Frowning, you take out another pan. You’re going to roast the damn gnocchi this time. Just a little, to get the outside to a subtle crunch, since the renowned mister food critic preferred them that way. Cooking them to al dente, you throw them into the heated pan, chunk a bunch of fresh rosemary in it and pour a bit of olive oil, waiting for the cast iron to do its trick.

By the time the chicken is done, the gnocchi is too, and with a quick tomato sauce, you’re ready to go. Finishing it off with a dash of balsamic vinegar, because even when you’re at home, you’re still a damn good head chef, you waddle your way to the kitchen island, ignoring the dishes that are now filling up the sink: that’s tomorrow Y/N’s problem.

Scooping a tiny piece of chicken and one tiny gnocco, you dab them in sauce and try it, approaching it as head chef Y/N, not a hungry, regular person Y/N.

Seconds pass as you chew, analyzing every kind of flavor that you get through the bite, all the sweet, salty and savory undertones in that one bite. And the textures, the textures that your original recipe lacked, because you did not pan sear the gnocchi.

“Damn you, Kim Seokjin,” you sigh, stabbing the chicken with your fork rather ferociously. “You really did make it better, didn’t you?”

You wanted to be mad, you really did. Salty, like you were before. And a huge part of you still was. Angry at him for taking the recipe, angry at yourself for not thinking about adding a new layer of texture to the dish before he did… yeah, a part of you was angry. But a different part of you, the one who didn’t want to stab that poor piece of chicken, was thinking of that smile Seokjin makes – that cute, content smile, when he closes his eyes, his lips subtly lift up at the corners and dimples appear.

The bitter taste in your mouth had nothing to do with the dish you’ve just made. It had everything to do with Seokjin and you once again wondering to yourself, how the hell did it get to this?

That’s a question you don’t know how to answer but you’re sure as hell glad Jungkook isn’t here to tease you about it. A girl can only handle so much when she’s wondering if the relationship with her arch nemesis now involves different kinds of… feelings.

[obae-me]

Could I please get hcs on how the brothers would react to a mc that doesn't like or feel comfortable receiving compliments? They personally make me uncomfortable since most of the time, people only give me compliments if they want something from me or are just joking and being cruel.

I’m sorry this one came out late, but I really liked writing this one. I hope you like it, thank you, Anon! 💜

Lucifer

He’s the Demon of Pride, and as such, despite his sound and logical mind, he doesn’t realize there are...people...who don’t like compliments. It doesn’t occur to him as a possibility at all. He loves compliments. He thrives under praise. He’ll puff up his wings and strive for perfection just so people will look at him.

So, naturally, he finds compliments to be high on his list of forms of affection. If MC does something right, he’ll compliment them. However, in return all he’ll get is a scoff? A questioning glare? This makes him furious.

What he doesn’t realize is that MC is used to being used. To being praised only to be betrayed. There was always an ulterior motive, so why should demons be any better?

“You would throw back something I willingly gave you?”

“You’re only giving me a compliment to get something out of me, so why don’t you just tell me what you want instead of lying to me?”

That wasn’t a rebuttal he was expecting. Yes he was a demon, and yes sometimes his intentions weren’t the most pure, but to think that someone would believe he’d sink so low as to give compliments in desire to extort them? His brothers maybe, but him?

He took a moment to look at their expression. It was sour and uncomfortable. It’s not what he expected. This was a problem that went deeper than just distrust in demons. He’ll ask them if they’ll talk about it. They don’t go into detail, which he respects, but explains that compliments feel only like lies, and it makes them uncomfortable.

He’ll learn to find other ways to praise them other than compliments. He’ll reward them with a dinner or a little treat. If they’ve done something he’s really proud of, he’ll put it up where people can see. He’ll still give them simple compliments every now and again out of habit, and while MC still doesn’t fully accept it, they’ll smile and nod this time instead of throwing it out the window.

Mammon

He doesn’t give out too many compliments to anybody in general, much less a human. On top of that, it’s especially rare that he’ll give a genuine compliment. This is the demon that MC should be wary of, if he says something nice about them, it’s a very very high chance that he does want something. Not necessarily because he wants to harm the other person, it’s just that he’s grown up with Lucifer as an older brother, and more often than not, puffing up his ego can get him off the hook.

Naturally though, this makes MC very distrustful. On the off chance he does give MC a legit compliment, he might as well have said that he doesn’t like money, because they won’t believe it one bit. He’s totally in the dark about it, he doesn’t get humans at all. He thought he did a good thing, he thought they would’ve loved praise from him, the one and only Mammon. He went out of his way to ask Solomon about it. He was a human too so surely he’d understand.

“Probably because they think you want something, Mammon.”

“But I didn’t that time!”

He was hopeless.

If that’s how they felt, he was going to have to show them how genuine he could be. He was a gentleman, an icon, a pillar of power, so he was going to have to prove it. Everyone found it amusing just how exaggerated he was, treating everything that MC did with respect and reverence. Even Lucifer was in awe over how hard he was working to treat people with honest intentions.

He would make sure MC was there when he returned stolen things back to his brothers. He tells them he’ll cut off gambling and bets immediately. He opens doors for them and escorts them to RAD all without asking for a fee. He wanted MC to trust him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, someone wouldn’t call him scummy for once.

Yes, the brothers had a secret bet with themselves to see how far Mammon could last. Lucifer won, he tends to know his brothers the best. Mammon stopped being completely honest to everyone in about two weeks. He really did try his best to continue to be honest with MC, though. Even if no one else did, they wanted MC to trust him.

Levi

He has a hard time taking compliments too, so if there’s anyone that understands MC, it’s him. Compliments always riddle him with anxiety. He can’t be anything but a dirty, nasty, ugly otaku. His brothers tend to just roll their eyes at it. He’s a powerful demon, he can’t really think that way, he’s just being whiny.

So if MC doesn’t accept any of his compliments, he thinks it’s himself that’s to blame. Of course they’d look extremely uncomfortable to be complimented by him, they probably thought he was a pervert now. He shut himself in his room for days. The brothers had seen this happen before, so they weren’t concerned, but MC couldn’t help but be worried.

They came up to his room, knocked on the door, but was left with silence. Not surprising. They felt like they had to apologize anyway, so they spoke to the door, hoping that maybe Levi would hear some of it. They apologized for making him feel bad. They apologized for being stupid, for being rude.

Levi opened the door, shaking his head furiously. He hadn’t thought that of them at all. They both end up putting their feelings on the table. MC will share with him some of the stories of why they can’t trust honey-coated words anymore. Levi will talk about his failures as the third-born.

“We’re both a mess, aren’t we?”

In the end they’ll both spend much more time together than they had before. Even just the peace of being in the same room, even if they were doing different activities, set them a bit more at ease.

They both worked on trying to be better at accepting compliments, with no pressure put on them, of course. And if any demon ever tired to butter MC up to abuse them, they’d be destroyed by Levi before anyone could say Game Over.

Satan

One time tried to give MC an compliment that was so eloquently written, it could’ve been written by a poet. They did not take it well, to no fault of Satan’s or his work. It was so disgustingly sweet, MC went pale, nauseous off his words.

Satan felt so angry and embarrassed, he refused to be around MC for a week. Which made things worse. Both Satan and MC were spending far far too much time in their rooms and spending copious amounts of effort just on avoiding each other. The other brothers had had enough. They all got together and summoned both of them downstairs to talk. Lucifer called them out.

“Whatever happened certainly doesn’t warrant this new behavior, so you two are going to talk it out. Now.”

“Satan doesn’t like me, doesn’t surprise me, I knew everything was a lie anyway. With a compliment like that, it was too good to be true.”

Satan was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. The brother’s plan seemed to be working, so they left the two alone to talk it out. The two went back and forth for a while, clearing up all the misunderstandings. Satan had never felt dumber. He knew more than most, even among immortal beings, and yet he still let his emotions overtake his logic.

Now that he knew how MC felt about compliments in general, he knew how to handle them. If anyone thought that words alone were among his area of expertise, they were mistaken. He would do countless research on other ways to show praise and affection that wouldn’t come off as hollow. He’d fight anyone that made them uncomfortable again.

Asmo

He’ll have the hardest time with this. He’s a compliment churning machine. He’s a hype man. He’s a man of love., and so he wants to let the people he loves just how much he loves them.

It’s like never ending torture for MC, and they can’t help but feel like he’s doing it on purpose. How could he tell them they look amazing? How could he cuddle as close as he wants and describe them down to the detail? Every day made MC feel sick.

It got worse when MC was around him the first time he got drunk. He’d throw himself at them, every word he said laced heavy with alcohol.

“MC, you’re so cute, I want you by me all the time. MCCCC, you’re so wonderful, and beautiful, and cute-ah but I already said you were cu-“

MC shoved him off of them in a panic. “Stop, Asmo. Just stop!” They fled to their room leaving a confused drunk demon on the floor.

The next morning, while he fought a demon-sized hangover, he draped dramatically over his bed, running over last night’s kerfuffle in his head. Although the minor details were fuzzy, the important parts remained, including MC’s words. What’s this he was feeling...guilt? No no, he couldn’t have that, he needed to fix this right away.

He brought over his fluffiest robe and a tray with little cookies and fruity tea. MC almost didn’t let him in, but Asmo looked...different. Asmo sat them down and made sure they indulged themselves a little before apologizing. He had gone too far, and making other people feel uncomfortable was not an attractive quality.

MC felt like they needed to admit to him as well that any compliment they receive makes them feel that way. It was just too much for them all the time. He’s stunned, but how is he supposed to tell you how much he loves appreciates you?

MC decides to limit him to one compliment per day, maybe two if they feel like they can handle it. So now every day Asmo stays silent till he can think of the most perfect, most beautiful thing to tell them, hoping that maybe one day they’ll fully believe him and take it to heart.

Beel

He’s very much an actions over words person, so it’s rare that he’ll compliment MC with words alone. He likes to bring MC food, make sure they’re well fed and hydrated. He’ll keep them protected, that’s how he best shows his affection. He’ll follow MC everywhere he can, watching over them.

Sometimes he does tell them that they’re so sweet, and MC just shrinks further into their seat. He’ll frown. He doesn’t know why, but he does notice this anytime he says anything nice about them. So he’ll double down on getting them all the food they want. For him food equals love.

MC found it nice, since he was working so hard on making them feel good without trying to compliment them, but one night they came to their bedroom to find enough food to feed a small demon army. They appreciated it, but maybe Beel was taking this further than he needed to.

They brought him back to their room, and he looked extremely pleased with himself. He wanted MC to eat it all, he wouldn’t have one bite...other than the few bites he snuck already. However, MC begged him to help them eat it, it would be impossible to eat it all themselves. While Beel was eating, MC sighed and crossed their legs.

“Beel, I appreciate this so much, but you don’t have to go this far for me, you haven’t done anything wrong.” 

They explained how they just didn’t like compliments in general. No matter who they came from, no matter who said it. Demons, angels, humans, even God himself could say something kind about them and they’d still take it with a grain of salt.

It didn’t take long for Beel to understand, thank goodness. Of his many brothers, Beel is one them who supports them immediately despite how strange it seems. He’ll back down a bit, but still make sure MC knows every day how much he is proud of them by the things he does.

Belphie

Get a compliment from Belphie? Probably if there was something majorly wrong. He’s not good with words in general, and he doesn’t compliment anyone. Not his brothers, not humans, not even Diavolo. So this isn’t too much of an issue for MC.

However, he keeps a close eye on MC, closer than most people realize. Because of this, he notices one day when a grimy, good-for-nothing demon he doesn’t know, tries to win MC over with their words in order for them to do something.

“Aw come on, MC, you’re so smart, brilliant even! So won’t you do my part of the project for me? It’s nothing you can’t handle, you can handle anything!”

He can’t help but notice MC lean heavy on the wall behind them, using the books in their hands to cover the lower part of their fading face. He comes over and puts a ‘friendly’ hand on this demon’s shoulder. Upon laying eyes upon one of the powerful Student Council, they hesitantly tell MC they’ve got somewhere to be and then scatter. Belphie looks at MC and shakes his head a bit.

After what he’s done, after everything he’s said, he has no business helping MC out like this. He knows how much of a hypocrite he seems. He shoves his hands deep in his pocket and turns away. No wonder they can’t take compliments very well when every demon here that does sounds like, well...sound like him.

“Thank you, Belphie.” He stops, looking back over his shoulder at MC. This human...they were so dumb and confusing, but...he didn’t want to leave them alone. They were exhausting yet because of them he’d slept more peacefully and had more good dreams than nightmares.

He won’t ever tell them how much they appreciate them, which is fine, sometimes MC prefers it that way. He’ll mostly stay silent, but stay close to them. MC can know how much they mean to him without him having to say a word. Especially if Belphie feels comfortable enough to fall asleep on them, sometimes in their lap, sometimes on their shoulder. It says volumes.

[armageddonouttahere]

Consolation

Title: Consolation

Summary: Takes place after “Putting Others First”, in which Roman sinks into his room and doesn’t leave for a while. Logan is the only one not preoccupied enough to come and lure him out, but in this he has to face emotions he’s been putting on the backburner for a long time.

Pairings: Romantic Logince, background platonic Moxiety

Warnings: Crying, self-doubt, insecurity, negative thinking

Rating: General Audiences

Genres: Fluff, Hurt/comfort (with a happy ending)

Word count: 2,500

A/N:  Here we are, at last! I had cranked out the last couple paragraphs of this fic just an hour ago, and I’m very excited. This had gone from a little Logince comfort drabble to a fic of 2,500 words (exactly, though I didn’t do that on purpose). I hope anyone who sees this enjoys it, and everyone who’s been waiting for it likes it even more, after all this suspense. Taglist will be at the end, under the cut.

________________________________________________________________

Logan was at a loss. The aftermath of Janus’ name reveal left all the sides shaken and fragile. Especially Roman. Logan wanted to help, he wanted to be able to tell Roman with certainty that he will be okay, that everything will be alright. Logan needed to be able to look Roman in the eyes and know that the words that came out of his mouth are truths.

But he can’t. So, Logan focused on the problems he could solve. He endeavoured to keep Thomas in working order, though on the inside he may be struggling. Virgil seemed to have taken a backseat, focused on watching over Patton. The most he’d seen of the anxious side was weekly updates and reports on Patton’s condition, how he was feeling, which Logan appreciated greatly. He needed all the positive data he could get.

As the logical side, Logan was somewhat attuned with the other sides’ reasoning and thought process. He needed this information to be accurate in order to know how Thomas works, how he functions. He knew how the other sides try to solve problems, how they understand things. When something or someone throws a wrench in the system it’s one of the few things that affected Logan physically.

In the aftermath after Roman sank out Logan had migraines for weeks. Roman’s flawed logic- his flawed perception of himself- is the one thing that has caused Logan the most physical pain. Roman’s view of himself shifted so drastically to the negative end that Logan felt… sorry? For him? 

He felt… he- he felt. Roman made him feel. What did he feel, exactly? Empathy? It was true that Roman’s emotional pain gave Logan physical pain, but the shared anguish went further than that. Logan knew what it’s like to feel wrong, to feel unheard. He related to Roman. He knew what he’s going through. 

Their opinions may differ, but Roman still needed consolation. Logan won’t further his belief that Janus is the villain, but Roman doesn’t need a scolding or a lecture, skewed though his viewpoint of Janus may be. He needed someone to listen to him, someone to comfort him.

Logan was aware that he’s no optimal candidate for the matter, not the first choice for consolation (nor the second). He does not possess the endless cuddles and comfort food of Patton, nor does he have the quiet understanding and listening ears of Virgil. His only way of reassuring the prince is through data, probabilities, and chances. Inadequate. Unsatisfactory. Definitely not enough.

Logan made a plan. A plan to make Roman feel better. A plan to get Roman to open his door, something he hadn’t done in two weeks. He gathered things he believed he would need in order to cheer Roman up: the Sherlock screenplay Roman had gifted him at Christmastime, Logan’s book of Shakespeare’s plays (Hamlet being pre-marked with a red sticky-note, in case Roman is feeling increasingly dramatic and macabre), his journal for note-taking, vocab cards, and his laptop- which has a playlist compilation full of ‘cute’ animal videos at the ready. All of this was needed for Logan to get up the courage to knock on Roman’s door. He felt as if he’s putting on an armour of sorts. Preparing himself for battle. 

It’s quite funny- the logical side needs bravery and courage to step outside his area of expertise and comfort the prince of the group.

May 17th, 2020. 1830 hours. Attempt #1: Prologue.

Roman has not left his corner of the mindscape for 16 days, 6 hours, and 28 minutes. Virgil has just given an update on Patton’s condition, which is thus: Patton’s “room” has slightly lessened in its intensity of upsetting emotions. The picture frames’ rate of showing unfavourable memories has decreased. Patton has not cried yet today. The Dark Sides, Remus and Janus, seem to be keeping on the “down-low”. Thomas has not had any intrusive dreams in many days. Virgil has been too preoccupied in keeping tabs on Patton to give him anxiety over much.  Thomas’ motivation has gone down. His restlessness has gone up. Roman’s unconscious contributions to Thomas’ everyday life have gone down significantly. Thomas has stopped daydreaming. He has stopped thinking about the future, what he has to do tomorrow. He is becoming forgetful and apathetic.  As the logical side, there is only so much I can do to keep Thomas in working order without help from the others, that much I can admit. I have put off trying to help Roman in case things only become worse, but the stakes are too high at this point. Action must be taken. I will record the results of this 1st attempt later.

Logan steeled himself, books tucked under his arm. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

Around nine at night, he wrote down the results. Roman had been unresponsive to polite requests for entry, knocking, attempts to start a conversation, small-talk, even a referencing desire to build a snowman. He had not responded to propositions of reading from plays or poetry, or any of his favourite literature. In summary, it was almost like speaking to a “brick-wall” (almost, because the door to Roman’s room was made of mahogany).

“Really? Things must be bad,” was Virgil’s response as Logan recounted the events to him later that evening. It was late, almost time for Logan to get some shut-eye after organizing Thomas’ duties for tomorrow. Logan had entered the kitchen hoping that Thomas would get a good night’s sleep so he could have the highest level of productivity the next day, but judging by the Monster Energy drink resting in Virgil’s hands he supposed that was not the case.

“It is certainly concerning. I tried… if not everything, at least a substantial amount of options.”

“Yeah, and if Roman doesn’t answer to a Disney reference… I’m worried about him. Do you want... me to try?” he said, fidgeting. Logan realized he looked uncomfortable with the idea. Virgil must felt a little guilty for not showing up at all during the argument.

“No, I believe that more attempts should be made. To wear him down, in a way. I’m planning to try again tomorrow.”

“Same Bat Time, same Bat Place?”

“An interesting way of putting it, but that’s the idea.” Logan rubbed his eyes and began making a list of all his tasks once he returned to his room.

“Alright. I’m gonna go see Thomas.” Virgil said, getting ready to sink out.

“I assumed you were. And Virgil?”

He popped back up. “Yeah?”

“Please at least try to motivate him a bit, if through fear? I don’t want to deal with a gloomy, unproductive Thomas tomorrow.”

“You got it. I won’t screw him up too much. ‘Night, Lo.”

“Good-night, Virgil.” He was alone.

“Roman?” Logan knocked once more. “Roman, would you be open to company? I wish to speak with you.”

Nothing. He sighed, pushing his journal farther into his pants pocket. He decided to come with substantially less things this time around. To come as he is.

“I’m not entertaining visitors or guests at the present. Please come back another time, thank you,” came a weak and muffled response.

The sound of Roman’s voice gave Logan an ache in his heart which he didn’t want to name. He ignored it, for the moment.

“I just want to speak with you. You’ve been decidedly quiet these past few weeks. Your input, both in-person and in Thomas’ subconscious has dropped a considerable amount. As far as I am aware you have not made your presence known to me or any of the other sides in over two weeks.”

Silence was his response. Facts were getting Logan nowhere. Logan sighed, struggling with himself. Did he tell Roman what he thought in simple terms, what he was trying to say through his data? How could he bare himself to Roman’s listening ears, let himself be known?

“In all honesty, Roman, I’m- I’m…” He took a breath. “I’m worried about you.” He said this in a rush, letting it all out in one breath. Like a Band-aid, as Virgil had stated. The silence that still followed both frightened him and spurred him on.

“Roman, I- I haven’t spoken to you in weeks. I’m afraid of what will happen if you stay isolated for much longer. You’re a necessary part of Thomas’ life, for me to have things to maintain and keep in order. But more than that, more than duties of mine, I mis- I’m… finding your absence upsetting.”

Logan faintly realised his hands had begun to shake, and he clenched them.

“You… mean a lot to m- the Mindscape, to Patton, to Virgil… to everyone. No one means you harm. We need your input on discussions, and revel in your ideas and thoughts. We... miss you.”

Just gotta rip it off.

“I- I miss you, Roman.” Logan shut his eyes, forcing out the idea that he had become emotional enough to begin producing tears. Logic does not cry. “We bicker sometimes and both of us are wrong on occasion, but I would rather have arguments with you than nothing without.”

“Seeing your vibrance and excitement in brainstorming, your happiness in Disney movies and romances, watching your brilliance when creating plays and stories and… being you, I- I find myself… swept up- metaphorically, of course- in every emotion you give off when you’re around me. Seeing you productive and happy gives me more of a reason to work to the best of my ability.”

“It’s… it would be difficult for me to ever say these things in the hearing of the other sides, but… I miss the feelings you bring me when you are around. It is something greater than a job well done, Crofters, or puzzles and murder mysteries being solved.”

“The emotions I feel when you are around are something more than a simple pleasure in watching, in the aesthetical enjoyment of seeing things fall into place. When I’m with you, I feel… spurred into action.”

“Roman, I- I can’t… I can’t bear your absence any longer. I’m worried about you, but more than that, I’m worried that should you keep to yourself, I’ll never… I- I won’t…” Logan swept aside a few tears that had run down his face. His throat ached so much that he feared he wouldn’t be able to get any more words out. The words he spoke next came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Without you I’m afraid I’ll never feel anything again.”

A shuddered gasp tore itself from Logan’s throat as he took his first proper breath in a few minutes. Tears slicked their way down his face freely now. This was, Logan supposed, because such a long drought of emotion had rendered him virtually unable to control any that did overcome him.

“However,” Logan began once more after a few more minutes of silence, his voice quieter now. If anyone else had heard it, they might have said he sounded ashamed. “Should you wish to remain alone for… whatever period of time, I won’t stop you. Asking you to open your door for my sake is extremely selfish of me. I’m… I’m sorry, Roman.”

Logan took one more breath before turning around to leave. He had no idea what the effects of his speech would be, and that scared him. He was in an entirely new territory. This was an unprecedented event, with no similar experiences to compare it to. He had ‘boldly gone where no man had gone before’, so to say.

Logan was so wrapped in his own panic, for that is what it was, he almost missed the imperceptible click of Roman’s door opening as he walked away. Every muscle in Logan’s body tensed, and he prepared for angry words and scathing insults. Logan would face it, however. He turned around, and was met with a sight for some very sore eyes.

Roman held open his door an infinitesimal amount, peering through the crack. Through the small open space Logan could see the prince out of his usual outfit, the beautiful swath of his hair, and one very tearful eye. Logan opened his mouth without knowing what would come out, but the air was knocked out of him.

Roman flung the door open wide and his socked feet ate up the steps between them as he flung his arms around Logan, the force of his embrace almost tipping Logan over. An embarrassing ‘oof’ escaped him at the impact and his hands went up to grip the back of Roman’s jumper after only a second of hesitation.

Logan’s mind filled incredibly fast with all sorts of information: the scent of Roman’s hair, the warmth of his body, how Roman buried his head in Logan’s neck and the slight wetness that came from tears. The way Roman’s nose jutted into his neck, the almost imperceptible touch of Roman’s lips on his shirt collar. Logan’s body betrayed him in an audible catch of his breath as Roman clung to him harder.

“Roman, I-” Logan began in a faint whisper, but Roman only shushed him and tightened his grip, rocking them from side to side ever so slightly.

They stayed like that for Galileo knows how long when the prince peeled himself from Logan. Roman looked upon Logan with eyes so bright from unshed tears Logan would have believed there were stars in them.

“You never said anything. Not a word.”

Their conversation was as hushed as could be, the Mindscape and the world beyond it ceasing to exist and zooming in on the two of them, in this moment.

“I’m not good with words. When it comes to talking about feelings, I mean. You know this.”

“Don’t lie, Specs. That was one of the most eloquent and beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

Logan scrambled to find a breath within him as Roman smiled up at him. For one of the few times in his life, he found himself with nothing to say.

“It was moving, and heartfelt-” Roman continued, taking Logan’s hand and stepping back, towards his room. He paused in his motions and looked at Logan once more.

“-and it was incredibly romantic.” He said softly.

“I’m- I’m glad.” came Logan’s strangled reply. Roman smiled at him again and led him into his room. There they would sit and talk for hours, and Logan would hold Roman to his chest. They would confess to things bothering them and their hopes, dreams, and fears for the future. It would grow late, and Logan would give in and begin to card his hands through Roman’s hair as the prince drifted off to sleep.

There, in the black-blue of the sky of Roman’s window, scattered with stars and the slanting rays of the moon, Logan would look down upon the prince’s sleeping head and realize, though he had first doubted his abilities, he had been enough. Enough for Roman and for himself. He had been enough.

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