#i just have such a firm belief that this man is a loser when hes genuinely in love ok.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit? 

satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement. 

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles. 

it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though satoru chalks that up to his mind playing tricks on him. 

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him just yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred in its normalcy. 

everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket draped over the couch haphazardly, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

why is the kitchen light still on?

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin under them groggily — blinking once, then twice. 

yep, it’s still there — that soft fluorescent glow. a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with. 

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you. 

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps are riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

you’re asleep.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago. 

the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile. do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —

but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft and almost otherworldly sprouts in his chest, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something akin to a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.

satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a somewhat exasperated breath. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften.

the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…” 

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

a yawn tumbles from your lips, and you lift yourself up. leaning into his touch. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure. 

it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question. a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform as your arms sneak around his thin waist. bringing him closer.

stroking the back of your head softly, satoru’s chest rumbles as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees, lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “but i fell asleep.” 

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder and you press a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light. and then something else, something more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you.

“of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, he pulls you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought of being a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel somewhat giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t.

having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

with a single step back, you look up at him. tilting your head. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he’s been trying not to do it as much. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved, either. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown. 

“oh,” you breathe. “okay. good.”

one second. then two. satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table.

satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —

maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you. 

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”

a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.

for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out. 

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but… 

(something about this is just too tender.)

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love. 

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react. 

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting. 

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet. 

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most. 

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.

really. isn’t he being too coddled?

(… but it feels so nice.)

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek,  thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.

when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression. 

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly. 

satoru looks at you for a second. 

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection. 

another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down. 

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. 

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open. 

licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier. 

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse. 

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

#lovesick satoru is my favorite satoru but yknow whats even better? lovesick satoru/lovesick reader #i just have such a firm belief that this man is a loser when hes genuinely in love ok. #hes so touch starved i think he’d crumble into a little puddle on the floor if u kissed his cheek #loves to tease and fluster you n hes so good at it but the moment u give him the same treatment? he is Gone. down for the count #spreading the loser satoru agenda <33 i love this man so dearly. #i NEED to hold his waist btw idk if i made that clear. i need it like i need air to breathe. like why is it so tiny if not to be held by me #had to hold myself back like a wolf during a full moon from describing his waist in too much detail youre welcome #overall idk what to say i just think love could fix him #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader

[gravitasmalfunction]

*pauses episode to deconstruct the themes of gender, professionalism and patriarchy and the implications of the FL's whorephobia*

I mean seen from another perspective, her obsession with the idea that he's a sex worker and her reaction to that belief seems to indicate an ego-protective mechanism at work, a cognitive dissonance that allows her to avoid confronting her feelings about how she was treated in her previous job, where she was ostensibly employed as a legal professional and then expected to entertain handsy clients after hours. And the irony that it was overhearing *his* conversation in that same restaurant with a client who wanted sexual favours from him, and how he flatly rejected those advances, that gave her the courage to walk out and resign on the spot - but even that inspiration was ultimately whorephobic because her takeaway from that scene was if he, a mere sex worker, can assert his right to walk away from a deal he doesn't want, then she, a highly educated lawyer, ought to have even less qualms about leaving an undesirable job. But then again her whorephobia is integral to this narrative tension that's being established, where she has fundamentally mistaken the power dynamic between herself and him, her accidental temporary roommate. She's being set up for a grand reversal when she realises he's not a sex worker, he's her new lawyer employer and named partner in the firm she's just taken a job with. But is the narrative going to punish her for assuming he was a loser/traitor under the patriarchy, a man who inverted the power dynamic by serving women's sexual needs, rather than the other way around? Or is it going to take her to task for the way she treats sex workers?

*browses tumblr, sees the ML actor's shirtless bathroom selfies*

Nice!

#something something the duality of the audience #cdrama my boss #ten bucks says the show is going to land on the side of defending the patriarchy alas #i'm sure the censors take a dim view of treating sex work as real work equally worthy of dignity as any other kind of occupation #still appreciating cxx posting thirst trap bathroom selfies on drama release day #for the show in which the FL tells the ML in ep 1 that her house rules are that he can't take off his clothes or have people over #is it still tinhatting if you headcanon yourself some rpf about the actor's relationship with the narrative? idk

[powerseeking]

@devilrogue​  asked  ;    "Y'know, there's almost something charmin' about you at this age." Before the 'take over the demon world' attempts got super serious and Vergil lost all traces of his humanity? A mouthful, maybe, but the truth. Dante bent at the waist ( he'd never see Vergil shorter than him again, he had to relish it ) and pressed a finger to his lip, an amused hush-hush. "But you'll have to forgive me, can't give out any spoilers or anything. Would ruin the fun of it, right?"

             ❛      and  has  there  ever  been  anything  charming  about  you,  at  any  age,  dante ?       ❜     vergil retorts back,  a sly smirk on his face before rolling his eyes   —   as if he was interested in hearing what dante thinks about him at this age,  or at any age.  it  wasn’t  a friendly family catch-up he was looking for,  he thinks before his ear perks up,  watching dante alter his stance and finish his words. 

             was he  mocking  him ?  a brow furrows as he shakes his head,  sighing as he walks past him  ;  he had  always  been childish,  and he was in no mood for such things.       ❛      as  if  I  wish  to  enquire  any  of  that  information  from  you,  it  means  nothing  to  me  as  of  now.  but   —   no  spoilers  stop  me  from  knowing  i’ll  defeat  you,  brother.     ❜      despite his mood,  he jests back,  confidence brimming from his words as he glances around the office once more   —   he had seen it in other interactions on his travel many times.  still,  it was a first to meet this version of his pitiful younger brother,  as he turns on his heel,  staring back at the older man.   

           ❛      but  indeed.  in  any  consolation  though,  you  sound  pleased  with  yourself  to  hide  such  things  from  me.  i’ll  allow  you  to  have  your  fun,  while  it  lasts.     ❜     in the end,  whether he hides it or not from him,  he had firm belief and confidence that his plans  will  work out  ( when time was fixed ).  maybe the other was just  ashamed  to admit he was beaten for a change and him sitting sorry for himself in his re-built office was his future ?   

           dante  had  always been a sore loser after all.

#･ †▐░▒ your worth is pitiable ; speak and be gone ╱ inbox ･ #･ †▐░▒ yamato in hand ; towards power he pursues ╱ in character ･ #set this in your post dmc5 verse if thats all good! ovo #but sfhjsfhjsf dante i'm omg #i loved everything about this #just how amused he is at being taller atm omg #@ the last part: says you vergil #FSHJSFHJSF #･ †▐░▒ flames arise as time stops ; set forth on a new path ╱ main verse ･ #･ †▐░▒ time waits for no man in the world for demons ╱ devil may queue ･ #devilrogue

[jpapimphot]

When Doyoung started in the company, he offered to raise his salary, ranting about how the regular break from heat cycles shouldn’t put the omega in a spiral of inequality. That earned him a cold shoulder for weeks. Where Johnny saw justice, Doyoung saw pity.

Doyoung is not a frugal earner, less a philanthropist. But the compelling of a simple life is always with him. Something cliche and Ghandi-esk like “never forget your roots.”

It is good, it is better this way, he made it to his thirties on his own, surviving against prejudice and expectations on his own, he doesn’t need an alpha to coddle him or bring him to his knees.

“Is it truly happiness or is it just convenience?”

“Don't call it like that,” Doyoung replies, almost resigned. Just because you achieved what others want of you doesn't mean I’m a failure for not doing the same. That’s a reply, if dared, would bring winter over their warm friendship. They've been there before, and none want to go back.

In the way he has made a priority out of his mate and family. One just has to see how often he caresses the bite mark on his neck and they’ll understand. At first Doyoung used to think he was blind, weak before the doctrine of social structure, like a religious witness would be before modern ideology. But Doyoung understands now each is entitled to live the way they want.

“I’m sorry if I made you think this means something,” Doyoung finally manages and ignores the crestfallen look on the younger man’s face. It is painful but life has always been painful for Doyoung. When he had to watch his mother cry her eyes out because he promised to never get married, when he had to suck it up and smile for the alphas who held his future in their hands, when he had to go against everyone to be where he is today. Through it all, he stayed as strong as a rock, firm in his beliefs.

It is funny to him, because Ten is the exact reflection of himself and his mind, and yet, all he hears in those words is solitude. It is strange how he feels how Taeyong does for him. Perhaps they confused justice with vanity, perhaps they were making martyrs of themselves and not the heroes they thought they were.

He is not like himself, but then again, who is he to begin with?

“You know, giving it a try doesn’t mean it is the end of the world, or that you have to stick to it forever,” Taeyong tells him during one of their weekly lunches, always so loyal to his cause.

Somehow, this is maybe a way for the universe to punish him for ditching a once in a lifetime opportunity. What fate takes back, it never gives again.

There is Doyoung’s last ray of hope, as if fate has heard his pleas.

He almost laughs when he thinks that damn destiny really chose the worst place for them to meet. Perhaps it wanted them to see how good they could be even in the dullest environment.

"And of course, Prince J is here to save the day."

"So unless his goal is to actually fall from the pedestal of popularity the school had set upon him to hang with a bunch of losers like us or he's actually interested in you enough to bargain his social status."

It's Our Little Secret

suhnflowerseo

[extreme-investor-network]

As Markets Correct, Remember The Wit & Wisdom Of Ace Greenberg

“Tricks make headlines, but winners execute the basics..” Markets remain in a major correction – but fear not. When the hurly burly is done, what goes down and survives will (eventually) come back up! As the pain bites, I recommend the wit and wisdom of Ace Greenberg, the best banking CEO ever, a man who understood the primacy of common sense. Peloton’s numbers said it all. Great concept. Terrible Business. The most difficult thing in business is convincing someone who thinks they have a brilliant concept that it’s not. From meme stocks to SPACs, to profitless growth-fixated firms to disruptive tech… it’s the realization great marketing and gab don’t always translate into brilliant businesses that are hurting whole slices of the market. Such is life. Three times I’ve invested in airships. They will never replace planes, but I shall probably fall for it again because next time is always different. No. It usually is not. Good firms – the legion of companies with solid fundamentals, the ones that don’t make the front pages of the FT and WSJ on a regular basis, the well-managed ones, aware of their position on the earth and part of it, making perfect widgets and selling great products, looking after their staff and achieving positive social good – (the ones that do ESG without having to have it explained to them) – are also suffering for all the usual reasons: an inflated bubbelicious market bursting, and a declining economic outlook in the face of inflation, recession, difficult supply chains, and rising global tensions. If you are holding good and great companies you really have little to worry about. Sure, the stock price may decline as the economic picture develops, and the great correction of 2022 will continue as a falling tide lowering all boats, but ultimately good companies will bounce back, they will pay dividends and they will resume on-trend mean-reverted growth. These firms are the long-term holds. My portfolio is down, but it will be back up again. I am not panicking. As I’ve pointed out many times, the trick is understanding which firms will evolve into or maintain profitable niches, and which are ultimately evolutionary dead ends… As for Coinbase last night.. I had to stifle giggles as I scanned their statements. Sadly, it won’t be a final hurrah for Crypto. Around the world, there is a huge number of desperate crypto-losers hoping and clinging to the belief the few pennies they have left in this Crypto Winter are still going to germinate into fantabulous wealth. They sincerely believe the gibberish that passes as crypto-proof. They don’t understand the Greater Fool theory. They believed the invisible clothes of crypto could only be seen by really clever people and didn’t want to look foolish. Yet, today I was surprised to discover my crypto wallet is still worth 70% of my investment – I will be smugly satisfied when it's zero! But, all the above is just noise.. What does it all really mean.. So a bit of a departure on the Morning Porridge this morning. Today, I am going to listen to someone else’s advice… Yesterday, I was chatting with an old work chum and he showed me a photo of his dog-eared Crash of 29 by Galbraith. I went looking for mine – and it vanished. I reckon either the ex-Bank of England economist up the road or one of our local hedgies snaffled it at the Halloween, Christmas or my Birthday party.. hey-ho! But I did find my last remaining copy of the Greatest Book on business ever written. Ace Greenberg’s Memos from the Chairman. Ace was CEO and chairman of Bear Stearns, the greatest Little Investment Bank to ever grace the Street. I have enjoyed every moment of my not very grand career in finance, but the 10 years I spent at Bear was probably the best. (Shard, of course, comes a very close second…) The book is a collection of genuine memos Ace sent around Bear Stearns – they are full of wisdom, humor and are highly instructive. Even though they are now 30 years old, they remain highly pertinent to what’s happening in markets today. Perhaps the things Ace valued most were common sense and pragmatism. Ace was a real character – and a genuinely good man. Many years ago I dragged him to the IMF annual shindig in Washington. Between meetings with clients, while I was flaffing around arranging taxis, materials, and schedules, he stopped me, made me sit down and decompress, and insisted on sharing his lunch with me. He gave me great advice on the clients we met. He told me not to engage with one Irish bank we met – they didn’t pass his sniff test. He was spot on right. The Irish Bank went spectacularly bust a few years later. Ace had a gift for remembering everyone and a genuine interest and concern for his colleagues. He understood the business backward and was tough. He would not hesitate to pull the trigger when required, but he was absolutely fair. When he stepped back… under his utterly different successor, it was only a matter of time.. which was a great shame. Bear Stearns – happy days and a great crowd of people. I raise a toast! I reread Memos from the Chairman again last night. It’s utterly brilliant. Let me share some gems: On being successful in markets: Watch expensesWork for our clientsKeep our feet on the ground and our heads on straight.” “Make decisions based on common sense and avoid herd mentality.” “Control expenses with unrelenting vigil.” “Help all departments grow, this year’s starlet can be next year’s dog.” “All this time I thought Merchant Banking was some esoteric, complicated British secret.”   “The bear markets will end, and it can end quickly.” “This market will not get me down. It is just a minor challenge.” “People who talk too much seem to have bad luck.” On Investment Banking: “You cannot fly with the eagles and poop like a canary.” “It is up to all of us to fight our unrelenting enemies – complacency, over-confidence and conceit.” “Thou will do well in commerce as long as thou does not believe thine own odour is perfume.” “Every industry in this country is having financial problems. We paid our dues by surviving and even prospering during some tough years for Wall Street, but do not confuse luck for brains.” “I find it amazing we never hear of a conference devoted to applying common sense to the securities industry” On People and Markets: “The market in stocks has taken a precipitous drip, but I am far from depressed. Why? Because we will see great opportunities in all areas, particularly personnel.” “If somebody with an MBA applies for a job, we will not hold against them, but we are really looking for people with PSD degrees. (Poor, smart and a deep desire to get rich.)” “Bear Stearns is not having a hiring freeze. Our experience has been the best time to hire productive people is when conditions are difficult.” “The only thing that can stop us getting richer is stupidity.” “Forget the chain of command. That is not the way Bear Stearns was built. If you think someone is doing something off the wall or his/her decision making stinks, go around this person, and that includes me.” On CVs “Remember one thing; today’s applicant could be next year’s client.” On Work  (he recognised answering phones promptly and is critical to success) “I conducted a study of 200 firms that disappeared from Wall Street and discovered 62.349% went bust because important people did not leave word on where they went when they left their desks…” “A firm that has enthusiastic telephone operators starts off with a tremendous advantage over the dummies of the world.” On trading “If you have a problem position, discuss it with the head of desk. Absolution can be granted for losing money, but never for lying about it.” On strategic planning: “It is reported some prominent M&A bankers just left a firm because of a difference of opinion over strategic planning. That will never happen at Bear Stearns because we have no Strategic Planning.” “The amount of dissension rises geometrically with the more issues you have to philosophize over.” On Expenses  it wasn’t just spending on paperclips… “Federal Express is not a wholly owned subsidiary of Bear Stearns… we are spending $50,000 a month with them.” “It hurts to report I saw someone throw away a used internal envelope before it made 22 trips round the office. I can’t stand to see people burn money.” “Electricity is not free! This will come as a surprise to 98% of the people who work at Bear Stearns. I found enough lights and machines left on to fund Bangladesh’s light bill for a year.” “We are flexible. We should have anticipated the culture shock when a person joins us from a firm that has been losing billions. From this date forward… the personnel department will give new folks a paper bag with a box of paper clips and twenty rubber bands.” “When the toner is low, take out the cartridge, shake it and give it another try. If we get 5% more use out our toner cartridges, it would save the company $15,000 a year.” Bear Stearns has just bought its 10,000th Fax Machine. The Fax salesperson has just retired. He is burnt out – he is 33 years old. He has purchased Donald Trump’s yacht, and the overworked soul wants to take it easy…. There is a moral hidden somewhere… It’s a brilliant read.. and I’m still smiling… Original Article Here: Read the full article

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

🖊+ the OC you'd be besties with :D

Thank you for the ask :) Hmmmm... you're making it hard.... cause I do see a great potential to become "besties" with many of my OC's. Tumblr is making it even more difficult though, since it only allows me to attach 10 images to an ask post. I would have liked at least 5 more options, so sadly I'm now leaving out Wyatt, Travis and a bunch of lesser known characters such as Kris and Declan. Anyway, I love the question, cause it really made me think, who I could see myself become very close with, so here's my answer:

Dalton may or may not be an angel in disguise? He's undoubtedly too good for this world, and must be protected at all cost! I am at the firm belief, that had the world been blessed with more Dalton's, planet earth would no longer be in trouble, and it would basically be paradise. Dalton is the embodiment of everything good and pure, and only love runs through his veins. He's goofy, messy, a bit of a nut. He's extremely romantic, at least when it comes to writing lyrics. He's that type of person who will never give up the hope of a better tomorrow, at the same time he has a sentimental/melancholic view of everything around him, and at times a pessimistic view of the world, and where it's all heading. He's wildly creative, and there's not much he can't do when it comes to creating. A dreamer, has a vivid imagination, and a way with words. He's deep, often too deep for his own good, and as a result often drowns in his own depths. Also, he really likes crazy colored socks. And has the most radiant smile in the entire world! - When Dalton smiles, everyone smiles!

Gizmo is that guy you can call late at night, sobbing on the phone, cause your loser boyfriend/girlfriend AGAIN ran off with the household money. He'll rub your back while you sob about how miserable you are for hours, then share a big tub of ice cream with you, yes, you'll get to eat the biggest portion! He's warm, kind, thoughtful and will do anything to make you smile again. He's basically a big warm hug just waiting to wrap around you. Super down to earth, super chill, super friendly, super helpful. Trust me, he's simply plain super. Oh and he has a really great humor and scores high on the geek/nerd factor.

Andy... what's not to say about Andy? With a charisma brighter than the sun and a body hotter than Hades, who can honestly say he didn't get to them in some sort of way? He walks into everyone's heart with big dirty boots, whether he was invited or not! He's strong, but has a very sensitive soul and a loving heart as big as the moon! He'd do anything for the people he love and care about, and he's always ready to fuck shit up and get on some sort of crazy adventure. If you're into cheeky comments and sexy half smirks, Andy is the man for you! Cocky, but it's mostly just for funz. He has a fairly good self-esteem on one hand, and a shitty one on the other. However, he can melt even the coldest heart when he sings, and he's never shy to write a song about someone he cares for. He's multi talented, and doesn't mind if you spill beer on the floor of his 1969 Ford Mustang. And hey, he's a really fucking good dancer, he proves that by constantly dancing away from his problems! What problems?! He can't hear you! Music is too loud!!

Will will will.... will you please take a second to read about this awesome chick named Will(ow). She's crazier than that crazy aunt you have living in an old shoe factory in Memphis... yes, you know Aunt May, the free spirited naked, artist aunt with 50+ cats in her backyard. Well, Willow beats her! There's a reason her dad has been calling her Willow-Wonka, since she was a child. She has a filthier mouth than a harbor worker, and a louder more masculine laugh than a drunken sailor! She absolutely 100% commits to always having a blast, and to keep up with her you better get fucking going, cause she's always at least 5 steps ahead! She's a bright colored atomic rainbow, always spreading joy wherever she goes! She's a rollercoaster, just like her dad, but she always has her heart in the right place.

Your neighborhood friendly demon. A bit of a prankster, but never mean, unless you repeatedly get on his nerves, well, then he'll make you cry and beg for mommy. Nah he's cool, perhaps apart from the stalking, on the other hand, you're sure to never be alone for too long, if you know Raven. If you need coffee, he will always bring you HIS favorite - cause he knows better, he is several thousand years old after all! He's up for anything your heart desires, and if you're tired of superficial friendships/relationships, and you search for someone with a substantial depth to them, Raven is your guy. Protective, respectful and patient. Fuck authority! He's deeper than the deepest ocean, however, he is just as dark, don't go swimming into the deepest end, you might not like what you find. He's charming, highly intelligent, an observer, and if you're into getting lost in deep conversations, you've come to the right person.

That grumpy guy who always frowns at you at the supermarket checkout line. Highly intimidating, but oh so HOT! You just can't look away, though you're sure his glare might actually, eventually, kill you, if you don't! But damn he's worth it!!! You want to get to know him, but as you approach him, you barely get an annoyed grunt out of him. He's mysterious, sarcastic, always stuck in a cloud of smoke, smells like wood, motor oil, fresh herbs, incense and stale beer. He drives a black Dodge Charger and you swear the roar of the engine makes your privates purr just as loudly as Adrian himself does. He's a mechanic, which makes you wish you had a car, so you could launch it into a tree, just to have an excuse to drop by his place. He's quiet, and at first seems cold and distant. But if you manage to penetrate the exterior, there's a heart of gold beneath it and a friend/partner for life.

'Chase the man' - as he calls himself. Cheeky whirlwind of chaos and destruction, not in a negative way, he doesn't mean it! It's the adhd/add! Shit is that a rainbow?! Where were we?!!? Gets distracted easily, but keeps his focus with home grown, home rolled killer joints, yes, he will totally share! Ultra fast hardcore drummer, covered in colorful tattoos, down to earth, loves to chill and play video games. Don't expect him to be able to pay for himself, so whenever you go out, better carry money enough for both of you, as Daniel usually is broke. Where did his money go? Who knows? Not Daniel! He's the type of person who is friends with literally the entire planet.

Sam, say it deep, say it warm, feel the crisp Autumn wind carry red, brown and orange leaves in your direction. Smell the nutmeg, cinnamon, Anis, Clove, Thyme and Bay leaf. Candle light and old leather-bound books, Latin scribbles on yellowed pages, and warm fuzzy blankets - that's Sam. With a kindness unlike anyone you have ever met, he cares about everyone around him, from the soil you step on, to the seagull in the sky. Every living thing is valuable, and should be respected and taken care of. Sam is warm, attentive, curious, calm and collected. It's hard to rattle him, and he always serves as a steady rock for people around him. Whether it's the old lady who needs help to get over the street, or his sister needing help with a larger knitting project, Sam is always ready with helping hands. You'll never get a better foot rub/massage than Sam can give you, just saying.

Leo has a certain flow, as if he's constantly moving at the same rhythm as the sea, the sun and the moon, and the music of everyday surrounding us all. He's simply in tune with every particle of the universe. He's playful, optimistic, always up for some fun and games, and is simply that person who has such a great energy that it straight away affects everyone around him in a positive way. He's spontaneous and free-spirited, and every day to him is like a dance. If you need a 'pick-me-up' - Leo is your best bet! He's great with compliments and even better with self-esteem boosts! Oh, and he's actually a really good listener too!

Walter, is super down to earth, extremely chill, highly causal and enormously friendly. Although he mostly sticks to himself and his 4 roomies, he's actually quite outgoing and talkative, it's just that he prefers to chill around on his own, just as he prefers to listen rather than speak. He's quiet, but not to a point of being silent. Charming, smart, quick thinking and resting in himself. Walter is always pleasant to be around, and you'll find yourself looking forwards to seeing him again. He's a surfer, so he always smells of fresh saltwater and warm sand - if you're into that sort of thing?

#Daniel mumbles #tag thing #ask answer #Dalton Red #Gizmo Jensen #Andycorn #Andy Shaw-Thompson #Willow #Willow Amalthea Shaw-Cullman #Adrian Blackwood #Raven McKinney #Brandubh McKinney #Daniel Chase Hartwig #Sam #Samuel Cullman-Thompson #Leo Jinx #Walter Sea

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 9

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 9: Decisions and Hesitations

“You really want to do this, you really want to try and race me?” Mei asks as she sees MK roll up in the restaurant scooter.

“I’m in it to win it!” He cockily said, “and besides I always wanted to try out one of these races, my new powers are gonna seriously help me!”

“So are we!” They see an orange and blue demon with their own car as they posed ontop of it.

“Yin!”

“And Gin!”

“You don’t even know the track!” The pro racer yelled out as she leaned in closer to him.

“I got Monkey King powers! I think I will be fine!”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

Needless to say, both demons were ignored, but the next demon wasn’t as he revved up his engine.

“Quiet peasants! I’m trying to get in the zone!” Red Son called out as he kept his eye on the track in front of him.

“Oh hey Red! I didn’t know you were participating!” MK smiled and gave a wave.

“Well the prize is a worthwhile venture to be acquired,” he huffed out.

“Well I hope you boys will like the taste of my fumes when I leave you both in the dust!” She grinned savagely.

“Please, you will be the one tasting my dust!” The Monkie kid shot back.

“You want to bet on it!”

“Oh yeah! The usual?”

“You know it, you want to join in hot head?” She asked the prince.

“As if I would want to participate in your frivolous competition,” he rolled his eyes.

“Awww, it sounds like you scared,” she began to mock him.

“What!” A burst of flame emerged.

“Chicken! Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!” MK flapped his arms as he did that.

“Red Son is no coward! What is the bet!” He hissed out as steam emitted from his mouth.

“Loser has to treat the other to an all you can eat ice cream!” MK quickly shouted.

“Deal!”

“And it looks like things are heating up down in the tracks!” Yin stated as he and his brothers entered the commenter podium.

“And on a totally unrelated note, we're the new commentators,” Jin added as he grabbed the mic.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised something like this would happen,” MK sighed as he quickly put his seatbelt on.

“And to spice things up we’ve gone ahead and altered the race track!”

“WHAT!” Not only the trio, but every racer shouted out as they saw the now new and updated version of the track on the screen.

“Here’s your start and here’s your finish, get there anyway you like!” Yin said as she pointed to multiple areas.

“Fuck me!” One of the racers screamed out as he slammed his head against the wheel.

“Well there goes all of my plans!” Another angrily said in a red car as she honked her horn violently.

“I’m gonna kill them,” a calm voice said as they gripped the wheel.

“This is fine,” someone’s eye twitches violently, “this is perfectly fine.”

“On your marks!”

“Hold on!” Mei cried out as she tried to figure out if that really just happened.

“Get set!”

“Wait what!?” Red Son blanched as he looked at the commentator sector, more specifically the twin demons, as if he wanted to climb up there and rip both their mouths off.

“Go!” They echoed together as only MK began to drive off as he had no previous experience with racing, so he wasn’t weighed down on the dangers, uncertainties, and screwups that can occur with not having the road memorized.

“See you at the finish line!”

“Oh hell no!” Mei revved her engine and began to chase after him.

“Get back here!” Red Son did the same as he quickly followed and soon enough everyone joined in as well.

“I still can’t believe that they weren’t real,” MK grumbled as he licked his ice cream.

“I still can’t believe the both of you thought it was real,” Mei smirked as she pointed her spoon at them.

“In hindsight, I should have never thought that the peaches of immortality would ever be a prize in a mortal sport,” Red Son grumbled as he bit into his cone. “Every demon, creature, and mortal alike would be flocking at the chance of immortality if it was real.”

“Well jokes on the both of you, cause now I can savor my free delicious goodness,” she held up her cup.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” the boy groaned.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, who was saying that they only needed the great Monkey King powers to win?” She put her finger to her chin, “Oh right! It was you!”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Well since you got me my wonderful prize, your apology has been accepted. Just try not to be dumb next time.”

“All I can do is try!”

“If it wasn’t for you, I would have won!” The flame demon half glared at MK.

“To be fair, how was I supposed to know that I crashed into you when I fell out of the sky!” He threw his hands up. “I was just trying to get ahead!”

“Well now my vehicle is in ruins because of you!”

“You're not the only one, Pigsy is gonna kill me once I get back,” he smacked his head on the table.

“Don’t you have Monkey King powers?” She pointed out.

“Huh?” MK tilted his head as the demon's eyes widened in realization as he smacked his face.

“You could have fixed it!” He roared out.

“Oh right!” He had totally forgotten that he could do that, “I am soo doing that after we eat.”

Red Son grabbed him by his collar and brought him close until they were nose to nose, “I have spent countless months making and fine tuning my car to my tastes and you, noodle boy, have ruined that in less than a second. You will fix my car now.”

“Oor I can do that,” he quickly grabbed his staff and went outside as the two follow.

“Don’t worry,” Mei patted the demon's shoulder, “I know exactly your pain. Love him, but he almost lost a hand after he managed to bust my engine.”

“I said I was sorry!” He called out as both vehicles reverted back to their original state with a few missing pieces here and there.

“Tell that to my motor!”

Red Son inspected his car and nodded his head, “still some parts missing, but an adequate patch up job nonetheless. I will bring it back to its former glory when I bring it back home.”

“Your welcome,” the Monkie kid smiled.

“You're the one who broke it in the first place!”

“Point,” he then walked a little way closer, “soo I guess this means you're gonna head home now.” He said a bit sadly, he liked hanging out with Red, he is one of the few, besides Mei, who can match his level of energy. So it was always a bummer whenever he had to head back to his crummy family, he had heard how parents talked to him and needless to say, he did not like it.

The demon side eyed his friend's words and huffed, “I can do whatever I want, you have no authority over me.” He marched back inside with his head held high.

Both MK and Mei's eyes slightly widened at this, but they both shared grins as they quickly followed him back inside the shop.

“So question, is water wet?” She couldn’t help herself.

“By the-of course it is wet!” He looked so lost at the random question.

“Nope it’s not,” MK stood firm in his belief, he knew what Mei was doing, but he was not about to let this go.

“Of course it is noodle boy! If water makes other materials wet then by default the water is wet!”

“Key word ‘other materials’ the water itself is not wet.”

“That makes no sense, of course it is!”

“It makes perfect sense!”

“Do you have a brain or is it hiding under all that stupidity?!”

“I will not back down from this, water is not wet!”

“In what world!”

Mei happily sat back and enjoyed the chaos she just unfolded.

“Nice job MK,” Monkey King complimented his protege when he saw him master the reverse strike. “You are getting quite the hang of this.”

“Thanks!” He smiled as he swung his staff back to his side.

“You're learning faster than I have ever anticipated, are you learning from another teacher behind my back?” He narrowed his eyes teasingly though it still held a hint of seriousness as he was curious about how he knew some of those moves.

“No!” He immediately said, but he backtracked moments later, “well yeah, but not like that! It’s just that my Dad has been teaching me some fighting moves for the past couple of years.”

“Lighten up,” he jokingly ruffled his head, “I’m just teasing you. Though I seriously have to meet your old man sooner or later, he seems like a pretty cool dude if he’s teaching you all this.”

“Of-,” he cut himself off as he realized what he was about to do. His dear ol Dad, the medicine monkey who has a grumpy temper, the biggest worrier he has ever met, was Macaque, the same monkey who tried to kill the Monkey King and the rest of the gang, albeit under a huge misunderstanding.

He cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to meet his Dad again.

While he doesn’t think that Monkey King will go off the rails and try to exterminate him on sight, he rather not take the chance either way. But, as much as he hates to admit it, there will always be the possibility that the two will meet sooner or later.

“Maybe later,” he nervously said as he scratched the back of his neck. “But how about teaching me something else, likkke a certain 72 transformation technique.” He really wanted to learn this out of all the moves.

The monkey sage merely quirked his eyebrow at his student's blatant tell, but he let it slide…for now. “Oh ho ho, now why should I teach you that?”

“But why not?”

“But why?” He shot back.

“But, but, but it would be so cool!” It really would be so cool, transforming into all those different kinds of animals, but he does have to admit that he does have a certain animal that he is leaning towards.

“It is definitely a cool move,” he agreed as he balanced on his tail, “but you don’t have to learn that at the moment.”

“Oh come on, when will I be ready,” he huffed out.

“When I say you are,” he poked the middle of his forehead then playfully snagged his violet bandana off his head and began to run away.

“Hey! Give that back!” He began to chase the monkey as they traverse up the mountain.

“Here’s your next lesson,” he tied the bandana to his left arm as he was standing on top of a large boulder. “We will be focusing on your stamina next, you seem to have a lot, but I want to test out how long you can go for.”

“Oh I can go on for a long time!” He cockily stated as he had already climbed up halfway to him, “so you better give me back my bandana when I catch you!”

“Good luck with that,” he shot back with the same arrogance as he hopped over to a tree that was quite a distance away. He silently watched his protege leaped from the rock to the tree closest to it, then he saw him stumble a bit with the different texture as he climbed on, but this is when he became a bit confused as he saw him sit down on one of the tree branches and proceeded to take his shoes and socks off. “What are you doing?” He muttered out.

Then he saw MK begin to climb once more and, he noted, that he actually began to have an easier time with climbing and swinging from tree to tree. “Well, I’ll be.”

It was only when MK got closer did he ask, “so it seems that I have underestimated your climbing skills, is this what your Dad also taught you?”

“Kinda,” he brightly said as he kept on climbing, “I was raised in the Plum Blossom Forest, I might as well have been born in there! I think that I have climbed every tree imaginable that was in that forest.”

“The Plum Blossom Forest,” the Monkey King mused. He knew of it, it had popped up a couple of centuries back, but he really never had a chance to check it out before. “Sounds interesting, I didn’t know humans were living there,” he subtly asked.

“There isn’t,” MK automatically said, not understanding the sage question.

“Oh? Is that so? So you visit often,” he curiously asked as he moved to a different treetop.

“Stop moving! But, no I live there, I thought I already told you that,” MK huffed as he moved over to the next tree.

“No, you said nothing of sorts,” he mocked back, “but if there is no human there, then how about you and your Dad?”

“Well I am the only human, my Dad’s not,” he momentarily stopped mid climb as he just realized what he admitted, but continued to climb. “He’s a demon.”

“A demon, that is something you don’t hear every day,” he teased. He has nothing against interspecies relationships, but he does have to admit that there aren't many couples like that out there. Prejudice is a right bitch at times no matter how much the eras may go past. “Your parents must really have a strong relationship with each other.”

As MK was about to say something an idea began to form in his head as he calmly switched tracks and said, “Nah, it’s just my Dad. He adopted me after he found me in the rain out in the alley after I got lost.” While he doesn’t want the two to meet again, he can admit to himself that there will always be a possibility that it will happen, so why not let the Monkey King see his Macaque in a better light.

His eyes widened as he heard this, but other than that, his entire form stayed the same, “Well that was nice of him,” was all he said.

MK only felt a bit bad about trying to manipulate the great Monkey King, but he kinda doesn’t want his Dad to be turned into utter paste if they ever meet again. So he will use every trick in the book he learns from both him and Mei and makes sure that when this all blows up in his face then at least he will have some resemblance of a bomb shelter to shield them from the blast.

So like he said, he only felt a bit bad.

“Yep! He’s been raising me ever since then!” He cheerily added as he eyed a certain monkey keeping his poor bandana hostage.

Wukong opted to stay quiet at this as he let the rest of the implications fall over him on his student situation. Though he did move back to the mountain once he got too close once again.

“Oh come on!”

“Seriously, why does this Forest even have faeries?!” Red Son yelled out as he finally found his way to the treehouse.

“Hello to you too,” MK grinned as he saw him and Mei walk towards him. “I didn’t know you two were coming together.”

“We weren’t,” Mei grumbled in irritation, “but some faeries decided that this is the time that they wanted to be devious, so I was stuck there for three hours!”

“I was in there for two before I saw biker girl,” the demon added as he stomped over to the tree. “If we didn’t spot each other, I was about to set fire to everything around me just so I can finally come here.”

“Agreed,” she growled out. This wasn’t her first time dealing with those half pint brats and she knows it won’t be her last. “Even Baba was laughing at us.”

“If I didn’t respect her so much I would be furious with her,” Red grumbled. He had met the divine creature on multiple occasions as he has always felt like an ant in her eyes whenever they meet. It was both infuriating and fascinating at the same time.

“At least they didn’t try to make deals with you,” MK tried to look on the bright side, only to get twin glares.

“I know better than to even play nice with a murderous being that is not even the size of my pinky! Mei doesn’t fuck with that kind of trickery, I like my soul thank you very much.”

“The faeries of this forest don’t do deals,” both humans looked at him in confusion, “I know, weird, but apparently Macaque told me some time ago when I first mentioned them that he and the Queen of the colony made a deal that they can stay in his forest as long as they don’t attempt to harm anyone that wanders in.” Now when he first heard this he was more than a little skeptical. Faeries, especially Woodland Faeries, are known for tricking their prey into a deal that usually ends with them losing their soul. Just because they look cute and innocent, doesn’t mean that they aren’t cold, manipulative little bastards stuffed with wiggly cruelty. He should know, he and his family have met with several of their kinds in his travels and even his parents refuse to have anything to do with those cretins.

“But they can still do shit like this,” she pointed out.

“Unfortunately yes,” he grumbled and he couldn’t help but add, “and I would have been able to maneuver my way through this if you didn’t insist on going your own way.”

“Me?” She marched up to him and pointed a finger at his chest, “You were the one getting all high and mighty and strutting around the forest like your hot shit! I was just following you fancy pants.”

“Ridiculous! You were the one saying ‘Don’t worry I know this forest like the back of my hand’ but apparently, you don’t know it as much as you hoped,” he slapped her hand away.

“Guys,” MK tried to butt in, but it was no use as their argument grew louder.

“Oh ho ho! Look who's talking Mr. ‘This is hardly a hassle for someone like me!’ But I guess someone like you ain’t worth the title you own!”

“Mei no,” the boy looked towards her.

“Not. Worth. My. Title?!” His head flickered in fury as steam began to come out.

“Red please,” MK practically was begging at this point.

He almost seemed to listen…almost as he calmly retorted “That says a lot a little coming from you little miss princess.”

“Goddamnit,” he sighed as he quickly stepped back as Mei tackled Red Son as she screamed.

“I am no fucking Princess! I am a goddamn Queen!”

The two began to brawl wildly across the area and the more Mei punched Red in the face and Red kneed her in the stomach, more and more bruises began to form.

“Honestly I’m shocked that this didn’t happen sooner,” he admitted as he sat back and watched their fight.

Then when both Dragon successor and Bull prince managed to throw each other away from one another, one brought out a glowing viridian sword in hand and the other lit up his fist in all its blaze of glory.

“Shit!” MK shouted as he began to sprint towards them with staff in hand.

Mei rushed towards Red Son with frustration in her eyes and he charged her with irritation on his own and just before their attacks hit one another a certain staff blocked their way and the trio attack let out a devastating roar.

BOOOM!

They all were pushed back by a tidal wave of heat and air but managed to stay on their feet.

“Okay I wasn't expecting that!” MK was the first one to say as he got his bearings. “A little boom, yes, but not whatever that was.”

“I hate to admit it, but I agree with you noodle boy,” Red Son said as he lowered his arms and looked down at their crater.

“You’re telling me,” Mei looked impressed by their miniature destruction as she looked around the area, “we managed to cause quite a bit of-FUCK!”

“What?!” Both boys whipped towards Mei, who looked oddly terrified as she pointed towards the tree line. They followed her finger and what they saw made them match her own face as standing at what used to be a beautiful grove of Plum Blossoms, was now a charred pile of ash.

“Nononono!” MK rushed over as he tried to examine the charred ground. “I thought I blocked it!”

“Well I think you redirect it!” Mei said in a panic as well, she knew very well just how much the trees meant to Macaque and now they had all done and fucked them up.

“How?!”

“Magic does strange things,” was all Red Son could mutter as he looked down at his destruction. He has never known why these trees were so important, after all this whole forest has an abundance of these, but during his multiple visits here he has gotten small snippets from both Macaque unruly friends and the creatures that dwell here of how important these trees mean to the Six Eared monkey. So, he tries his best to neither harm nor burn down a tree when he visits, despite not knowing why. Now he has thrown that all in the trash as he sees he has ruined something of importance to him.

“Now is not the time?!” MK panicked screamed as he tried to pick up the ash, but it just fell through his fingers. “This is so bad.”

“Are you guys okay?!” They all stiffen and quickly turn to see both Macaque and Ahmed leap towards them with worry on their faces. The monkey continued, “I heard screaming and an explosion.”

They all rushed in front as they tried, and failed, to cover their mess.

“We’re perfectly fine,” Mei grinned wide, “nothing is wrong.”

“She is correct,” Red Son nervously smiled, “everything is quite fine.”

“Yep,” MK didn’t look his Dad in the eyes, “we didn’t do anything bad.”

Both biker and demon elbowed him.

Ahmed and Macaque both looked at each other questioningly.

“Okay, what are you guys hiding?” He crossed his arms and looked to them, more specifically his son.

MK couldn’t help but look up and saw his Dad questioning look and he caved in faster than a house on fire as he wailed. “I’M SO SORRY!”

Mei and Red Son flinched as well as their shoulders dropped down in shame.

“Hey hey,” the monkey kneeled in front of his son as the lion gave a comforting pat on the other two shoulders. “Whatever happened, I’m sure it’s not too bad.”

“No, we fucked up real bad,” she whimpered out with her head lowered. “I am really sorry.”

“No words of apologies can amount to my failure,” the demon lowered his head as well.

“Seriously what happened?” He tried to ask but got only silence and tears in reply.

Ahmed did a quick scan around and he snorted as he saw what was behind them, “I think they're referring to the charred pile of ash behind them.”

The kids all stiffen as they watched Macaque see their destruction and it was only a moment of tense silence that had passed as they all awaited the inevitable yelling, but it wasn’t the one they were anticipating as he started to chuckle.

“Pffffftt, I’m gonna take a guess and say this was you guy’s creation,” he couldn’t help but smirk.

“Yessss?” She drew out the ‘s’ in confusion, “me and Red got in an argument and, well-”

“We fought and then MK stepped in to stop us, but it made it worse and then that happened,” he waved over their mess. “You don’t look mad?”

“Cause I’m not.”

“Really?!” They all shouted as MK continued, “but you told us just how much these trees meant to you and how you grew them yourself and you're telling us that it’s okay?!”

“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’ as he said that.

“But, but why!?”

“Look kiddos, I know both you and gale watched Ahmed and I fight some time ago right,” he said.

“Yeah?” Both humans agreed.

“So you know that we may have gotten more than a little wild with our fight and some things got utterly wrecked.”

“What’s the point of this?”

“I think what he’s trying to say is that during our fight, we destroyed an abundance of Plum trees,” Ahmed stepped in.

“…you know you did, didn’t you,” Mei mused out.

“Oh,” MK blinked as he did remember the clearing getting trashed to the point where it was almost unrecognizable to its previous state. “I suddenly feel like an idiot.”

“You're not the only one.”

“What fight?” Red curiously asked as Mei gave him a quick rundown.

“It’s the thought that counts starlight,” he smirked as he ruffled his son's hair.

“Sure, but I still feel bad,” he mumbled as he kicked a rock.

“Hmm well how bout this,” he grabbed the trio's attention, “to pay me back, all three of you are gonna plant a plant in that spot.”

“Like another Plum Tree or-” the monkey demon cut her off.

“Any plant you want, heck you can even plant daffodils. Those suckers can grow practically anywhere, but you guys will be the ones to take care of your plant. Deal.”

“Deal,” they all nodded.

“Alright but before we do that,” he brings out some bags and gloves, “how bout we clean up your mess.”

“Okay!/Let's do this!/This area will look even better than before!” MK, Mei, and Red Son all shouted as they grabbed the materials and began to clean up.

“I just noticed,” MK said as he put on his gloves with a mischievous grin, as he looked towards Red, “you said my name!”

He blushed as he remembered, but turned away, “no I didn’t.”

Mei matched her brother's grin, “you totally did!”

“It was the slip of the tongue!”

“Awww, you're finally warming up to us!”

“Shut your lying mouth!”

Both monkey and lion shared an amused look as they watched two humans and a demon, one side playfully argue and the other in complete denial, go at it.

It was not until a few weeks later did the once charred spot began to reform back in its former glory, but instead of Plum blossom saplings in its place there was a patch of Protea seeds grown by a Dragon girl, some Lotus buds planted by a Bull prince, and a section of Magnolia saplings nurtured by a Monkey successor.

“One day, you have to tell me how you make these noodles,” Macaque said as he quietly slurped down the rest of the food.

“Trade secret simian,” Pigsy chuckled as he wiped down his counter. “But I might let my lips loose a little if you tell me how you make your Dim Sum dumplings.”

“That can be arranged,” he grinned as he put down his empty bowl, “so, how have you and Tang been doing?”

The pig demon groaned as he stopped himself from slamming his head on the counter, “did Mei put you up to this?”

“Yep,” he unashamedly said.

“Of course she did,” he grumbled, “well tell her that there is nothing there.”

“But you want something to be there,” he pointed his dark green sparkly nail at him. Breezy got him, Comet, and Spitfire to do some nail time and he can say it didn’t turn out so bad. He knows MK was proudly showing off his violet nails against Mei’s bright green ones, even Red was admiring his own sparkly black ones. He even had his long mane of fur braided by them and it goes to show that you can learn new things about someone, he didn’t know little spitfire could braid hair. Apparently, the little prince said he learned it after Daiyu had dragged him off one day to meet some of her siblings, let it be known that he has a weakness towards wide eyed baby birds.

“No I don’t,” he huffed.

He raised an eyebrow.

Pigsy threw up his hands in defeat, “okay fine! Yes! I do like Tang in more than a friend way, happy now.”

“Ecstatic,” he deadpanned as he took a sip of his drink, “so why haven’t you said anything to him? And don’t give me that BS of not wanting to lose your friendship with him.”

“But it is!” He gripped the counter tight for a moment before exhaling, “look, I’ve been through so many crushes and puppy love throughout my life, hell take Spider Queen for one.”

“I think that was more of a lapse of judgment,” he patted the stool next to him.

“Whatever you call it, but for Tang I…I don’t think I ever fell for someone this hard before,” he sighed as he sat down next to the monkey. “I know it’s not a crush, I’ve known him too long and I know him for too long to be something as simple as a crush.”

“So what is it then?”

“I don’t know,” he moaned out as he covered his face with his hands.

“You do,” Pigsy peeked out from between his fingers as he looked at the monkey. “But you just don’t want to say it out loud.”

“Say what?”

“That you love him,” he bluntly stated.

“I do not-”

“So you don’t love the way he smiles?”

“Wha-no I do, but that doesn’t mean-” Pigsy admitted and tried to deny, but was cut off again.

“You don’t like how he looks into your eyes?”

“…his eyes are pretty, but that still-”

“What about how he talks on and on about all that history?”

“Oh fuck off about that!” He lets off a low growl to him, “the man is passionate about what he loves, and goddamnit it’s amazing watching him go on and on about it because he reveres even the smallest of rumors as a treasure no matter how weird they may be! So you can’t sit here and tell me that someone like him doesn’t ignite a spark within your soul as you look deep within him and can’t help but marvel at just how beautiful he is!”

Macaque raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

Pigsy's whole body stilled as he realized what he said, then he firmly said, “but that doesn’t mean that I love him?”

“Why not?”

“Why not? For fuck sake I have never taken Tang out on a date nor do I even know if he even sees me as anything more than an annoying friend,” he slumped down on the counter.

“You don’t have to be dating to be in love,” Pigsy lifted his head to look at Macaque, but the monkey was steadfastly looking forward. “Love cannot be defined in such a small category, there are so many ways that someone can love another without dating. Sometimes it’s when you laughing along with one of their stupid jokes and you realize that there is something there. Sometimes it is loud and boisterous and even when the other is annoying, you can’t help but still want to stay by their side no matter what. Sometimes it’s the quiet times where you are with them and then it clicks that you want something more, that there is something more. It’s that moment, when you're curled up next to them with the sun high in the sky, you know that you love them.”

There was a silence in the air as both demons knew what was implied, but neither had the guts to say anything.

“Macaque,” the pig demon put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Love is not so biased to one category,” the monkey demon continued as if nothing happened, “it cannot be contained in just one. So, I’ll ask again, do you love Tang?”

“…I didn’t even realize when I fell hard until I was listening to him talk about some underwater temple and I just couldn’t stop staring at just how beautiful he was at that moment. He was hella annoyed when he found out I wasn’t even paying to him, but that was then I realized I truly did love him,” Pigsy softly chuckled as he put his hand down.

“You did?” His head shot up at the familiar voice and he turned around to the front of the door to see Sandy, MK, and Mei all surrounding the voice, which made his heart drop as he saw Tang.

“How much did you hear?!”

“Ever since the little crush bit,” Mei smiled widely.

“Mei!”

“We heard it all,” MK joined in.

“MK!”

“It was really sweet Pigsy,” Sandy cooed.

“Sandy!” The pig demon didn’t know who to yell at first and instead turned to the monkey, “Macaque! You knew?!”

“Well I did say I was helping Mei with her plan,” he shrugged with a smirk.

Before Pigsy could lay it on him, he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and his attention was brought back to a wide eyed historian.

“So is it true?” He asked with something the pig demon didn’t recognize, “did you really mean that?”

It was at that moment when he really wanted to just say it was all one big misunderstanding and maybe, he would be able to salvage the tender relationship he still had with Tang, but when he looked into his eyes he knew that he couldn’t lie to him, not now. “Yeah, I do. I love you and I know this is out of the blue, but I…oh.” He cut himself off as two arms encircled his neck and hugged him as tight as he could. “Uhhhh?”

“We could have been doing this so much sooner,” he heard a small chuckle coming from Tang.

“Done what?” His brain hadn’t had time to properly comprehend what was happening at the moment.

Tang then leaned back to put his own forehead on his head, “I realized I love you a few years back when I saw you cooking dinner back at your apartment, you just looked so content at that moment, just smiling as you sang so badly to that song-”

“Never was a good singer,” he couldn’t help but say as his heart beat faster in his ears.

“ThatI just couldn’t help myself from falling in love with you,” his eyes twinkled.

“You don’t say…” he whispered as he drew the human in closer, “it seems we’re a pair of idiots.”

“You're not wrong there,” Tang agreed as he gave a small kiss on the demon's forehead.

His face blushed a fierce red as he mustered up his own courage and kissed the back of the historian hand that was entwined with his.

Tang's smile also grew brighter as he hauled Pigsy up closer to him and placed a kiss right dab on his lips. It wasn’t until elated cheers that the two released each other from the other lips, though they still didn’t let go of the other as throughout the exchange their arms wrapped around the other.

“Woohoo!” MK cheered as he leaped in the air.

“Freenoddleshipping for the win!” Mei pumped her fist in the air.

“It’s about time,” Macaque smirked as his tail swished behind him.

“I am so happy for you guys!” Sandy wailed as he picked both his friends up in a giant hug.

“Sandy! You're kinda crushing us over here!”

“And there goes my bones.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m just so happy for you guys!!”

“Sandy!”

“Operation Lovebird is a success!” The twenty year old grinned as she lobbed her arm around MK's shoulder. “I told you it would work, we just needed the right guy or the right monkey.”

“None of you knows subtly unless it hits you on the head,” the monkey demon said.

“You're not wrong!”

“Speaking of love,” the ponytailed boy walked up to his Dad, “it seemed that something was going on in that speech of yours?”

“Yeahh,” Mei slid up to him, “it seemed like you were talking about someone? Who is it?”

“It’s no one,” he slightly shook his head as he had a nostalgic look on his face, “just an old flame.”

The two shared a surprised, but curious look.

“Now how bout the three of us say our congratulations to the lovebirds for finally getting their head out of their asses before Sandy cuts off their circulation,” he grinned as he ruffled their heads.

“Yeah!/ I am so gonna hold this over both of their heads for a long time,” both monkey and dragon successor grinned as they followed their Dad. Though that little conversation did not leave their mind in the slightest as it was only shifted to the side for now. If the monkey simply thought that they were gonna let it go like that then he has another thing coming.

‘We’re gonna look into this?’ MK’s eyes said as it sideglanced Mei.

‘Duh, like hell we’re gonna let it go.’ Mei agreed with a slight narrow of her eyes.

They had to develop some kind of method to sneak past Macaque and his six ears, else they would have never been able to catch him by surprise.

He did not like this. This technically doesn’t go against the deal they made with Macaque, but he does not like this in the slightest.

‘Why does he have this? Why couldn’t any other mortal or demon have the skeleton key?’ Red Son silently thought as he snuck into MK’s room. ‘Why does it have to be ones I’m acquainted with?’

His eyes widened as he saw, lying precariously on the nightstand, was the skeleton key. ‘Why did it have to go to MK of all people?! Wait? Why the hell did you leave such a dangerous object out in the open?!’ He wanted to scream the last part out, but he held it in instead as he looked towards the key.

He then reached out to grab it, only to stop and retreat a few steps back then he worked up the courage to go back and grab it only for his hand to stop once more and he let out a frustrated groan as he pulled his hair.

‘Damn it! It’s right there and all I need to do is grab it and get out! But I made a deal with Macaque, but this technically doesn’t go against the deal as I’m not physically attacking him, but this still feels wrong!’ He angrily huffed out as he paced the room in agitation as he tried to work himself back up, but then he deflated as he walked to the window.

‘But I can’t do that to him, to them. I can’t,’ he opened the window with his head lowered as he was about to jump out, but then he froze as a prominent thought drilled out.

‘Mother and Father will be disappointed with me.’

He lowered his foot that was about to go out the window.

‘Mother and Father will be disappointed with me.’

He let go of the hand that was on the window.

‘Mother and Father will be disappointed with me.’

With that he rushed over to the key, quickly snatched it up, and placed it in his pocket as if it burned as he leaped out of the window and leaped from rooftop to rooftop.

‘I’m sorry MK, but I can’t have Father and Mother disappointed with me.’ Was his final thought as he moved further and further away from his friend's apartment.

#lego monkie kid #mk #monkie kid #macaque #six eared macaque #PlumTeaAU

[jalapeno-princess]

“Babe, what are you doing?” You finished folding the top you were currently holding and placed it in to your suitcase before turning towards your boyfriend and observing the look of genuine curiosity on his face. Mark had just arrived home after his shift at the hospital; you had a feeling he must have been exhausted and you couldn’t blame him.

Since a few of his colleagues either called in sick or went on vacation this past week, he’s been working overtime and it was obvious the extra hours were taking a toll on his mental and physical health. But he was never one to complain and he sincerely loved being a nurse. Working in the medical field was one of the more tiresome occupations and so you understood that all he probably wanted to do was fall asleep. It was only 8:30 P.M., however, he would always go to bed as soon as he got home from work no matter what time it was.

Seeing you on the ground right outside of your closet, packing multiple pairs of your clothes away probably confused the hell out of him and he was most definitely not tired at all anymore. Sure, he came home wanting nothing more than to take a quick shower and go straight to bed with you wrapped tightly in his embrace, but now he had other plans.

“Packing.” He began to walk closer to where you were sitting and took his place next to you, his dumbfounded expression didn’t falter nor did it waver. You had to stifle back a laugh; you were confident he had an idea as to what you were doing, so you were well aware that your response wasn’t going to amuse him in any way.

“I can see that. Packing for what?”

“Girl’s trip.” Once you admitted your plans and the reason behind your packing, his look of confusion quickly turned in to that of a frown.

“I don’t remember us making plans to go somewhere. With who? Where are we going?”

“Not we Mark. Just Sophia, Riley, Julia and I.”

“Wait, what? Why? When? Where are you going? Why didn’t you tell me?” As much as you wanted to continue your packing, seeing his broken expression as he hesitantly reached for your clothes; as if he wanted to get you to stop tugged all but gently on your heartstrings.

“I told you a couple of days ago. Right after we finished—you know—“

“You mean to tell me, that you told me you planned on going on a trip with your friends after we finished making love? My head was obviously somewhere else—I was too busy in between your pretty thighs to even care about anything else but this beautiful body of yours—you did this on purpose babe. It’s as if you knew I would try to prevent you from going. I mean, you have every right to go and I’m not the kind of boyfriend to hold you back from having your fun and spending time with your friends, but any minute spent away from you feels like a fucking eternity and it’s sucks. I’m happiest whenever I’m with you and I’m sure you know it by now. No matter how shitty my day is at work, I put up with whatever life throws at me because I know I’m coming home to you. Now you’re leaving me all by myself for God knows how long—what am I going to do without you?”

When he first found you folding your clothes and sorting out your luggage, you found his curiosity extremely adorable. You expected this kind of reaction out of him; that’s just who Mark was. For someone who was only a few years away from reaching thirty, he could be such a big baby sometimes. However, that was a trait of your boyfriend’s that you admired the most about him. He was very sensitive; but that’s because he had one of the biggest hearts that anyone could own and he had a small amount of separation anxiety when it came to you.

It never bothered you though, it just showed that he loved and cared about you with his entire being. That information alone never failed to pull on your heartstrings. Seeing him so fragile right now; probably exhausted beyond belief after a long day yet on the verge of tears at the idea of being alone for a little while made you feel terrible. In the three years of your relationship, you never spent more than three days without each other. Wherever you went, Mark followed and vice versa. If you went to visit your family back home, he was right there next to you. If he went with his friends to an arcade, you would tag along even if gaming wasn’t your forte. A lot of your friends would jokingly refer to you and your boyfriend as magnets. The two of you stuck together like glue. You were never not together other than when either of you were at work.

Out of instinct and guilt for not informing him more about your plans, you crawled over to him and sat on his lap; wrapping your arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. He placed his face in the valley of your breasts and released a soft sigh. Mark was a firm believer in actions speaking louder than words. He would shower you with his love on a daily basis—he did almost every single thing for you. He loved being able to help you and support you in any way he possibly could. If you were tired from taking on more hours at your job; he would cook dinner of the both of you. He would also wash the dishes, do the laundry, sweep and mop your apartment and sometimes he would even prepare breakfast for you and pack your lunches.

Your boyfriend was just a very thoughtful and considerate human being. He was the definition of a gentleman and even if he would remind you that he loved you at least five times a day, you could tell by his many sacrifices; you were his entire world. Hearing him confess how bothered the news of the trip made him only caused you to regret not putting more thought in to your decision. What started off as a joke just to see what kind of reaction you would illicit out of him was now something so much bigger; something that could have been prevented.

“It’s only a week Mark—“

“A week? An entire week? Seriously y/n? How long have you been planning this for and why do you seem so okay with the thought of being away from me?”

“Well, I was actually the last one to know. The girls didn’t tell me until the same night I told you. They just assumed I wasn’t going to go because they all know I don’t want to go anywhere you aren’t. God, we sound so pathetic. Sophia is joining the peace core in July, so she wants to spend as much time with us before she has to go away for two years. I wouldn’t go if that wasn’t the reason why they planned this entire trip. Jackson and Jinyoung seemed to take the news perfectly fine and I’ve heard that they are planning a trip of their own. I’m surprised that they didn’t reach out to you—“

“That’s because unlike them, I’m so far up your ass that I probably wouldn’t have any fun at all and it would be a waste of time and money if I were just moping the entire vacation. Plus, I don’t think I’d want to go with them anyway. The last time we went somewhere together, we almost got kicked out of a karaoke bar because Jackson’s dumb ass was being too loud. Humph, I’m really going to miss you. Damnit, what did you do to me? I never used to be this sappy before but here I am acting like it’s the end of the world since my girlfriend is going somewhere; probably going to have the time of her life with her friends while I do nothing but sit here like a loser until she gets back.”

You giggled softly at his words and beamed up at him; cupping his cheek with your palm before placing a few sweet kisses on his lips.

“We’re driving to Vegas—and luckily they already decided that it’s Riley whose in charge of getting us there so I will make sure to call you and text you whenever I get the chance. Trust me, I already tried to hint towards inviting you but they were quick to disagree. No boys on this trip—“

He pouted frustratingly once you said those words and wrapped his arms even tired around your sides. “Why not? I’m the best boyfriend out of our friend group let’s be honest here baby. The girls like me the most. Jackson talks too much and Jinyoung’s a petty asshole. I’m the quiet, mysterious and lighthearted boyfriend. I promise, you won’t even know that I’m there.”

You grazed your thumb against his cheek; trying your best to stifle back a laugh at his attempts to get you to reconsider. You were confident in the love your boyfriend had for you, but you weren’t sure how far he was willing to go in order to be with you at all times.

“Babe—“

“Fine, fine whatever. Go have your fun, you deserve it for all the hard work you had to suffer through in the last few weeks. But once you’re done putting away all your necessities, I want you on all fours. I need to fuck you tonight—no love making. I’m not going easy on you at all. I’m going to make sure your pussy is numb and your legs are jello once I’m done with you. Remember, five photos a day—make it ten. Two of the scenery, three of your gorgeous face I can never seem to take my eyes off of and five nudes. Oh, and I expect gifts. I want one of those five keychains and maybe a shirt that says I left my poor boyfriend home alone so that I could lose all my money playing slot machines—“

A breathy groan fell from his pretty lips as you elbowed him in his rib cage as your way to get him to stop talking. He was guilt tripping you and you’ve been with Mark long enough to know why he would do all that he did. You were also now very horny. It never failed to make you smile at an idiot knowing how soft spoken he was and how everyone around Mark assumed he must have been such a sweet, introverted guy. If only everyone knew just how much of a dominant, rough, animalistic and forceful man he was in the bedroom.

“That sounds like a great plan. Trust me my love, I’m going to miss you just as much as you’ll miss me. Before we do anything though, what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

“Wish I was a girl. Now, take off your clothes and let me hit it from the back. Maybe I can fuck you so hard you won’t be able to move and I’ll have to nurse you back to health. Preferably with my dick.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

[silvanable]

UwU hello~ I hope I'm following your rules, kinda read them several times :")) ehem– may I request for an ikevamp hc of Harry potter au, with an fem MC/reader who's a mud blood(? I think) and joins Hogwarts (with your choice of suitors). How she meets with the vamps and their reactions~ somewhat like that! Wishing you a lovely day~❤️

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

this is such a cool idea. i really enjoyed it and i have to say i now have a list of possible house alignments and blood statuses for all of our ikevamp boys!

i only went with 4 here though and i hope that’s okay!

feel free to wiggle with the assumption of the age brackets here because HP students are young but also i can just casually slide canon under the rug for a hot minute.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

↪  GUIDELINES

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

it’s very likely she run into him in the library.

and i mean she runs into him.

he’s was just picking out a few more books for referencing material when it happened.

not to be dramatic but books in her arms and his ended up everywhere, pages flying, somehow a quill is stuck in her hair.

after the initial shock she’s apologizing, a quick string of “i’m so sorry” follow.

arthur is a man with very specific tastes pretty much anything that moves and seeing such a flustered little dame kicks his flirt into overdrive.

“no, no, i’m just glad i could catch such a beautiful woman”

there is an endless amount of flirting from him and she denies his pretty words do anything for her.

but we all know she’s lying it absolutely works and she just can’t admit she likes the attention.

though it’s not all about that, i see her and arthur finding common ground either in sharing a house, similar hobbies, or common likenesses in things.

she would absolutely make a muggle culture reference, absolutely expecting it to fly over his head like is does with almost all the students.

“this search would go so much faster if we just had wifi to look it up” let me have this okay i didn’t know what else to say

instead she finds him staring up at her from his parchment, eyes focused on her from behind his glasses.

“you miss wifi too?”

and in the next moment they’re both laughing and complaining about how with all this magic...

it’s revealed then that not only is she a muggleborn, but so is arthur.

his reaction would range from excitement to relief to joy because finally someone else is like him, who gets this wifi-less struggle.

BONUS:

he is a slytherin, a very subtle one, and it’s not uncommon for him to be mistaken for a ravenclaw sometimes because he bears a very creative, witty, and observant streak. not to mention he’s extremely intelligent and practically the castle’s personal mystery solver.

ー COMTE DE SAINT-GERMAIN

pureblood, no question. comes from a serious well known and powerful family but not a pureblood supremacy family.

he’s the ancient studies professor fight me.

ends up meeting her on her first day of the job as a professor of muggle studies, arts, musics? probably.

it’s customary for the staff to meet and greet new members, get them familiar with the castle, offer them introductions, etc.

comte naturally volunteers for the job.

so there is the new professor, shining with absolutely determination and excitement and maybe a little bit of nervousness.

the tour is light, she is in awe ( who wouldn’t be it’s hogwarts ) and conversation mostly consists of the school and its students.

then she asks a question of what is expected of her, as she quietly adds “i’m not exactly sure how muggles and wizards differ in etiquette and behavior”

comte already knew her her field of study and what she would be teaching, but her muttered statement fits the last of the pieces together.

comte lets out a short laugh, “i can teach you if you would like to know?”

expect this man would definitely want to learn the differences as well, so really it would be a win-win.

her blood status would probably never be brought up directly and if she does bring it up, comte would likely just smile and say he knows.

BONUS: 

comte is a ravenclaw in my book. i find his personality and the infinity corridor magic door, as well as his enjoyment of the other cultures and travels make him a very curious and studious ( or willing and eager to know about ) of other cultures.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

like comte, leonardo comes from a well known pureblood family.

the first meeting is because leonardo fell asleep outside on the steps. she didn’t notice him until it was too late.

she trips over him a very graceful entrance.

he’s fine though, she however is not only dazed, might have bumped her head, and now is in a panic over whoever she landed on.

i entirely believe he would hardly be phased by being stepped on, so he hardly moves.

that scares her a little more because her concern goes from hurting someone to she might have found a dead guy.

her panicking led her to do the first thing that came to mind: VIOLENTLY gently shake him awake and ask, “are you alright, are you hurt?”

it was the consistent disturbance that woke him up.

can’t a man nap in random places without someone wondering if he died, like please.

it becomes a consistent thing for them to encounter one another exactly like that, except the worries of her hurting him become more of a “you need to stop falling asleep in weird places to get stepped on!”

it’s honestly very endearing.

finding out she’s muggleborn does come up in a later conversation, rather nonchalantly in regards to his sleeping habits and how her parents were doctors who could help figure out why he’s always so tired.

nothing is wrong with him he’s just the humanoid persona of a cat it’s fine.

that piques his interest enough to ask her about what they do as doctors. that’s when it comes up that both of her parents are muggle doctors.

her blood purity would never really come to mind with leonardo, as he does not believe in purebloods having supremacy.

BONUS: 

despite seemingly nonchalant and aloof, leonardo is a gryffindor. he shares a lot of their other traits besides the generally tag of “loud and prone to danger”. he is a very practical and playful person, but also he has a firm belief of right and wrong for himself and that’s not something he’s willing to back down from.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

probably met her on the first day because of vincent yes blame the brother.

the train ride has a bunch of new students, all excited and nervous at the same time.

theodorus and her ended up in the same train car during the ride.

he strikes me as the person not into conversation while she needed the conversation to ease her own nerves.

even if he did not respond or called her an idiot in his own way, she found over time that she was not as nervous.

she might have spilled her life story to theo though and that’s how he figured out she was a muggleborn before even she had a clue what it meant.

i see taking some time for her and theo to actually become closer because he’s a lowkey grump who needs to be bribed with pancakes but he most certainly would enjoy having her around.

it would first strike her what a mudblood was when pureblood losers harassed her about her background.

theo would intervene to protect her.

it most certainly would linger with that hurt in her and she would probably bring it up to theo, “why are you okay with being around me if i’m not a pureblood?”

“that doesn’t matter, hondje”

and if that isn’t enough to settle her mind he’ll tell her that both he and vincent are halfbloods.

coming from both a muggle and wizarding family he doesn’t care that she’s a muggleborn.

BONUS: 

theo is definitely a gryffindor in my book but he has slytherin undertones that show in his ambition, focus, and sheer determination in his goals. but he has a very brave and compassionate personality under all the sharp remarks.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ 

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #harry potter #headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanon #harry potter crossover #ikevamp comte #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #ikevamp leonardo #slytherin #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #ikevamp mc #theodorus van gogh #arthur conan doyle #leonardo da vinci #comte de saint germain #ikevamp headcanon

[santaverse]

[ LOCATION ] : THE BELIEF DIMENSION; THE NORTH POLE

Crackle, crackle... BOOM!! A green and red swirling portal magically emerged out of thin air. Once the portal opened, two men arrived and fell from within it. First to appear was Gruzzlebeard the bearded troll. As he hit the floor with a thud, he wheezed. 

“ WAAAH- HNGH!! ” After the fall, the troll slowly got back on his feet and dusted himself off.

 “ Hmph, some landin’... Alright ya big nosed JERK where the heck are w- OOF!! ” 

Santa had finally emerged from the portal, but as he fell the jolly ol’ man landed right on top of poor Gruzzlebeard. Quite irritated, the troll’s face turned red. 

“ RRRAGH! GET OFF’A ME!! ” Santa shook his head a few times to recollect himself, then yelped at the sight of Gruzzlebeard. 

“ Chestnuts! Forgive me Gruzzlebeard! I- “ Santa was about to get off of the troll when a hand suddenly reached towards him. Looking past the large hands, led towards tattooed arms, and finally into the eyes of Nicholas St. North himself! 

“ Need a hand? ” The burly guardian said with a wink.

Santa immediately uttered a light gasp. He took the hand that was offered and thanks to North’s quick tug, Santa was swiftly back on his feet. Once standing, Santa gave North a firm handshake. “ Thank you very much, Mister... ” 

“ Nicholas! ” North responded. “ But there is no need for formalities, call me North! ”

“ It is a pleasure, North! I am- “ North quickly held up a hand. 

“ You are Santa, no? Hohoho, of course you are! We are ALL Santa! ” Santa raised his brow and asked North politely. 

“ ...We? ”

North placed his hands on Santa’s shoulders, then motioned outwards. Santa looked around the room and once he did, his mouth immediately hung open. To his utter surprise, Santa found himself surrounded by others that looked similar to him! Red suits, white beards, all varying in sizes... it was a Santa melting pot!

“ By my beard! Multiple Santa Clauses! ”

“ Look fellas! North found us some new Santas! ” A Santa yelled out, so quickly most of the other Santas roared in excitement and ran towards the new Santa and Gruzzlebeard.

“ Oho my, hello everyone! ”

Gruzzlebeard was finally getting himself off of the ground when he finally saw everyone. His eyes enlarged and he let out a terrified screech.

 “ NO... NOOOOOOO!! THEY’RE MULTIPLYIN’... HE’S MULTIPLYIN’!! NO NO NO!! ”

The other Santas looked at the whimpering troll for a brief moment before turning to the new Santa for some clarity. He waved a dismissive hand with a smile. 

“ Oh don’t you mind Gruzzlebeard, he’s simply surprised, and quite frankly, so am I! How are there possibly so many of you? ”

“ We’re not exactly certain why it happens but, every year around the holidays, Santas are summoned together from across the Universe! ” Space Santa said, stroking his beard. “ Our very meeting details evidence of Space and Time itself being altered! I know it sounds complicated but- “ 

A large Santa quickly stood in front of Space Santa to interrupt him. He yawned before speaking. 

“ In ENGLISH, the world needs us. It needs us to be RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. ”

The big Grumpy Santa went back to munching on a cookie after his explanation, but Space Santa crossed his arns and turned away from him. 

“ ..I was getting to that! ” 

“ Psh- Yeah, at New Years maybe. ”

“ How interesting, ” the newly arrived Santa commented. “ So this... annual arrival, is it only linked to Santa Claus? ” Space Santa nodded.

 “ As far as we know, yes. We’ve only had Santa Clauses here! Some Nice, some Naughty... “ he shot a stern look towards Santa Claws, whom laughed in response.

“ NEW OR OLD IT DOES NOT MATTER, SANTA CLAWS WILL MAKE YOU SHATTER!! “

“ Some older, ” Space Santa motioned towards Grandsanta and Father Christmas whom were in a heated chess match. 

It was currently Grandsanta’s turn, and despite not having made a move in ages, he had a smug look on his face. Father Christmas was beginning to lose patience. He crossed his arms and scoffed.

“ Y’gonna take all bloomin’ day, or are y’gonna make a move?! ” 

Grandsanta looked up towards his opponent and pointed towards him. “ No, I was just waitin’ for the perfect moment to do THIS!! ” He placed his piece down, knocking Father Christmas’ King over. “ I WIN! HAHAHA! ” 

Father Christmas gasped, then banged a hand on the chess board, knocking a few pieces over. “ I wanna bloomin’ REMATCH! This time no cheatin’ either! ”

 “ Cheatin’?! More like you’re a sore loser! ” 

“ Am NOT- “ 

“ Are SO! ”

“ And some... downright strange. ” Space Santa said, motioning towards a particular Santa whom was bent over, looking inside North’s fridge. When he was mentioned, he looked backwards and gave a confused, 

“ ...Ho-Ho? ”

The newly arrived Santa was still in awe over everyone. He gave a hearty laugh once the brief introduction had finished. 

“ Ho ho ho! You’re simply marvelous, all of you! But, this is still rather strange... if we’re all Santa Clauses, that doesn’t answer how Gruzzlebeard was able to be sent here alongside me! ”

“ YEAH, ” Gruzzlebeard shouted. “ I ain’t no stinkin’ big nosed, jelly-bellied Christmas lover! And I SURE AS HECK ain’t no Santa!! ” 

With a slight gasp, Space Santa turned towards the troll. 

“ You’re... not a Santa? Well, you certainly had me fooled! ” He placed a hand on his chin. “ That doesn’t make any sense at all then... even Santa Claws in all of his wickedness was at the very least able to be sent here! Granted, he is his world’s Santa... Hmm... ”

“ Perhaps this is the Spirit of Christmas at work once again. ” An unseen voice said. As the Santas and Gruzzlebeard looked upwards, Jolnir and Classic Santa began to make their ways towards the new arrivals. North placed a hand on both Gruzzlebeard and the newly arrived Santa.

 “ Aha! Jolnir! Classic! These two are very wise Santas, if there is answer to problem, these two may have it! ”

“ The Spirit of Christmas? ” Space Santa asked. 

“ Yes. As we’ve discussed, every single one of us has a reason for being gathered here. Whether it is to lend a hand, mend a wound, or remind one of the true meaning of Christmas, everyone has a role to play! ” Jolnir turned towards Gruzzlebeard. 

“ That includes you as well Gruzzlebeard. Whether you like it or not, you were meant to be here. ”

“ WHAAAT?! ” The troll screamed. He walked up towards Jolnir and poked the muscular Santa in the chest. “ If YOU think I’m gonna dress in red n’ deliver presents on Christmas then yer in fer a RUDE AWAKENIN’, PAL! ”

“ No, ” Jolnir said with a dismissive wave. “ I’m sure your Santa already does a fantastic job at that. ”

Classic suddenly snapped his fingers. “ I’ve got it! ” 

“ Got what? ” The new Santa asked.

“ Why, look at the two of you! Polar opposites, yet very similar! Both live at the North Pole, both were summoned here... Santa my boy it seems, Gruzzlebeard here is the Yin to your Yang! ”

“ I-I’m afraid I still don’t understand... ” Santa said, scratching his head in confusion. 

Classic merely chuckled in response. “ Ho-ho, what I mean to say is, you two need each other! Especially for this Christmas! Tell me my friend, has Gruzzlebeard always been this... Naughty? ”

Santa gave the troll a stern look before returning to Classic Santa with a sigh. “ I give him chance upon chance, but he hasn’t received a present for Christmas in decades! ” 

Jolnir heard this and rose a brow. “ Oh? Not even coal? ” 

Gruzzlebeard crossed his arms and turned away from everyone. “ NOT. EVEN. COAL. I GOT NADA, ZILCH, NUTHIN’!! ”

“ Well, why don’t we remedy that then? ” Classic said, bringing an arm around Gruzzlebeard. “ Gruzzlebeard my boy, if you help out with Christmas this year, there will be a present under your tree this year! ”  

The troll’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned around. “ ...Y-Ya mean it?! ” 

Classic Santa winked. “ Of course! But of course, there is one thing I’d like you to do first! ” 

Gruzzlebeard clasped his hands together and pleaded. “ Go on ol’ man, name yer price!! ”

“ You are to help that dear Santa of yours this year on his present delivery operation. Not to deliver presents to good little boys and girls... but, to deliver the coal you should have received to Naughty Children! ”

“ Gruzzlebeard delivering coal? Are you sure about this? ” Santa asked.

“ Of course! Children on the Naughty list are not vile monsters! Some just need a reminder that they can do better! An example! What better example than Gruzzlebeard himself? Big and scary... he’ll deliver coal and will be a reminder to naughty children to make a change! ”

Santa stroked his beard, lost in thought. After a brief moment, he replied. 

“ I wouldn’t be opposed to that... what do you say Gruzzlebeard? It’ll be helping Christmas and the children, but you’ll get recognition and you’ll be getting your very own gift this year! ”

Gruzzlebeard growled at the mere thought of helping his neighbor out with the holiday he hated the most... but, the chance of getting a present was too strong to deny. 

“ Oh... ALRIGHT, FINE!! ” he snapped. “ Just DON’T go expectin’ me t’ sing carols, ‘r deck ANY halls!! ”

“ Well that settles that then! ” Classic Santa said. He patted Gruzzlebeard on the back and cheered. “ Welcome to the family, boys!! ” 

The other Santas and even North’s Yetis erupted into cheers as well. Everyone was glad to welcome more Santas into their strange but loving family!

However... 

“ WAIT WAIT WAIT!! ” Sea Santa yelled. Everyone immediately froze and looked towards the smaller Santa. “ What n’ the ho-ho-heck are we gonna call this Santa anyways? ”

“ Call me? ” Santa asked. 

“ Oh yeah, most Santas go by a nickname here, it helps keep things from gettin’ cluttered! So... what should we call you? ” 

Santa folded his arms and began to think. “ Oh dear... that is a good question! ”

“ Tell us more about you, ” North said, now stroking his beard alongside the New Santa. “ What is your center? ” 

As Santa continued to think, Gruzzlebeard interrupted him. “ HAH! Y’all wanna know more ‘bout jellybelly here? That’s RICH! That sap’s got more secrets than a high-end military center! Good luck gettin’ a read on him! ”

“ Hey... I like that! ” Sea Santa exclaimed. “ SECRET Santa! SS for short! Of course there’s a few SS’ here, but for you pal, I think it works best! ”

Santa paused... before erupting into laughter himself. “ Hoho.. HOHOHO! SS, Secret Santa! Why not? I love it! ”

“ Secret Santa it is! HOORAY FOR THE NEW SANTAS!! ” Everyone started to cheer once more for the two new arrivals. 

While the celebration began, Secret Santa grabbed Gruzzlebeard’s arm and pulled him close. “ You know Gruzzlebeard, this can be a fresh start for the two of us! ” 

The troll looked away from Secret Santa and huffed. “ DON’T gettin too sappy with me now Jellybelly! When Christmas ends, I’ll go back to hatin’ ya!! ” 

Secret Santa chuckled and patted his friend on the back. “ Of course, of course! Until then, Merry Christmas Gruzzlebeard! ”

As Secret Santa went off to join the others in celebration, Gruzzlebeard turned away and mumbled quietly towards himself with a mild smile, “ Merry Christmas... Santa. ”

#INTO THE SANTAVERSE || ( drabble post! ) #[ good LORD this took two hours to edit and add icons to xD ] #[ BUT!! this is the last drabble before I open the blog up for business! get hyped y'all! ] #[ just a few more icons to do- we're so close!! ]

[gothamslittlejester]

Arthur Fleck/Joker x reader (Being harassed by Ex)

Request: Hi! Are requests for headcanons/scenario still opened? Could I get one where reader's ex is harrasing her cause he doesn't wanna accept they broke up? He won't leave them alone and they started to be afraid of even leaving the house. Arthur notices something is wrong and ask her about it. What's his reaction when she finally breaks down in tears and tells him everything? Also is it possible to get the same thing for Joker as well? It's ok if not. Sorry for my long rant.

Sure thing hun! HC’s for both bois below 😊 

Also I just wanted to say, thank you all so much for the supportive messages I got about my last post. It really hit me hard and reading all your messages helped me realize I wasn’t the one to blame (although at the time i saw myself as the one at fault). thank u from the bottom of my heart <3 

Arthur

Sadly, the idea of a stranger coming into Arthur’s life to take you away from him is one that poisons his thoughts on a very regular basis. He could be having the best day of his life and out of nowhere, the voices in his head begin mocking and terrorizing him with images of a smarter, taller, handsomer man promising you a life better than Arthur could ever provide

During the day, it leaves him sickened with such intense anxiety that it almost always leads to a body shattering laughing fit.

At night it only doubles, the paranoia turns into something much worse; morphing from dread into a deep, deep sadness accumulated from all the pain he’s ever experienced in his miserable life. The sheer grief he feels during these nights is enough to leave him sobbing and shaking until morning

It has nothing to do with you, he promises, scared that you would ever think that he doesn’t trust you, or you’re not doing enough. You do so, so much for him, he could never repay you if he tried for a hundred years. With your encouragement, everyday he gets a tiny bit better at pushing these thoughts away. One day, he hopes to never hear them again

And for a while he doesn’t. Until he hears about your ex.

Arthur is very in tune with your feelings and emotions, so the second he sees you become panicky and refuse to leave the house without constantly looking over your shoulder, he suspects there’s a third party involved

He’ll get on his knees and beg you to let him know what’s going on, wiping away every tear he can catch, and kissing away the ones the slip past his fingers

Arthur knows what all about abuse and what it looks like, whether its verbal or physical, obvious or silently manipulative. The second you mention your ex coming back into your life and trying to interact with you, he just knows

Will spend hours comforting you and reminding you that you’re not responsible for the actions of your ex, and you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Besides, the next time your ex comes to your house, Arthur is already there, right by your side and ready to give your ex a piece of his mind

Although he completely envelopes you with support and the sweetest of love, there’s also a part of Arthur that’s so enraged, so furious at the nerve your ex has that it makes his vision red. He’d never show this side of him around you, but your ex just might get an exclusive preview

He’d charge straight up to you ex without a care in the world, hands clenched at his side and jaw set. He wasn’t used to being this confident, but now he had someone to protect, and he was going to defend you until his dying breath. Looking your ex dead in the eye, he’d threaten to beat his skull in with a carnival mallet if he didn’t leave Gotham this second. And If telling him to leave you alone doesn’t work, Arthur has a gun lying around that he’s been dying to use

Joker

Your ex really couldn’t have chosen a worse time to pop back in your life

You and Joker had finally relaxed into a domestic- dare you say normal- way of life, and despite some chaotic and crazy moments together, Joker’s fondness and protectiveness for you grows by the day. He’s very firm in his belief that he is yours and you are his, and not even God himself could take that away

Your adoring clown still has a few moments of intense jealousy that turn him into a pouting and possessive ass, but generally he’s never actually threatened by the people who show interest in his beloved S/O. Unless someone lays a hand on you or actually makes a move to take you away from him, Joker isn’t offended too much. Mildly inconvenienced? Sure. Extra possessive? Definitely. But to him, these men are just jealous of what he has, and that makes him smug as hell

If he was being honest, all the fans, attention and particularly having you by his side were beginning to get to his head. His ego began to grow by the day and you were the first to notice. You never really brought it up, but Joker was practically exuding confidence with every twitch and shrug of his shoulders. Although mildly annoying on the rare occasion, for the most part his new confidence made your knees weak and heart beat like crazy, which only made him cockier.

Joker thought of himself as invincible, a wolf among sheep, a king… so in his mind, obviously no-one would dare try to take what was his, especially not you. Right?

Unfortunately for him, he was wrong- very, very wrong

The second your ex comes back in your life, Joker knows something is up. He was the first to notice that someone had been lurking around your old home like a rabid dog, pacing and knocking at your door in desperation, oblivious to the conveniently placed security camera Joker had set up right near the entrance

Joker began immediately suspecting him, growling as the seconds ticked by and your ex continued to linger

Before he went straight up to this… this scumbag, Joker decided to inform you first before he accidentally shot up one of your family members or co-workers. He knew you’d never forgive for that

“Hi angel, there’s some loser pacing around your door, need me to take care of it”? He said with a smile playing on his lips, waiting for you to laugh in his face and tell you who the guy was. What he didn’t expect was for you to suddenly pale out and look at him like a dear caught in headlights, your eyes watering as they mercilessly revealed the terror griping your heart.

“Darling? Darling!” Joker yelled as he gripped your shoulders, slinking one of his arms around your waist in case you passed out on him and hit the floor.

“Baby…” he cooed and pressed his painted forehead against your own, coaxing you to look at him. “Tell me what’s wrong… tell me who that man is… tell me what to do, please.”

It took you a few minutes to calm down, but you do tell him- you tell him everything.

“I didn’t know he’d try to follow me back home, I thought he was out of my life, I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.” You sob out as you clutch at Joker’s hands, unaware of the feral snarl deepening into Joker’s face

Your ex is dead. On sight. There’s no pleading or bargaining with Joker on this one. The sheer fury and pain he feels on your half brakes his spirit in half, and he promises to never let anyone hurt you like that again. Joker would kill for you, and he’s about to prove it to you.

#Arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #joker headcannons #Arthur fleck headcannons #joker fic #Arthur fleck imagine #my writing

[haveanotherfandomblog]

Avenger’s Preferences

How You Meet Pt. 2

A/N: Someone in my family works in the V.A. so yes, I know what I’m talking about.

Peter-

Switching schools was never something you liked. Always being the new kid and having to recreate a whole new life was always so hard and frustrating. You tried to be a lone wolf, but your bubbly and friendly personality just wouldn’t let you. So when you inevitably moved, it was always full of tears.

This time was no different. Your family had relocated to New York City for your father’s business. You were in a new school surrounded by people you didn’t know. While their faces all blurred together, you stuck out like a sore thumb. You knew everyone was staring at you as you made your way to your new locker. Once you found it, you found that it did not want to cooperate and open.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled, shaking the lock. You rested your head against the cool metal.

“Need some help with that?” A tall girl with dark skin, black, frizzy hair, and glasses stood a little down the way. She was leaning against another locker, her arms crossed over her chest. You stood up straight, pulling your mouth into a thin line.

“That’d be great, thanks,” you said. She pushed herself off the locker. She came over to your locker, jiggling the lock before hitting it with her elbow. It swung open with complete ease.

“These things suck,” she told you. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Uh, no. I’m new. My name’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out, a smile on your face. She took your hand hesitantly.

“Hey, I’m--”

“MJ!” Behind you, two boys were waving at the girl, MJ. One was on the heavier side with tan skin and dark hair. The other one was a slim, fit guy with pale skin and light brown hair.

“MJ! We’ve been looking for you,” the first guy said.

“Guys. This is Y/N. She’s new,” MJ said. “Y/N, this is Ned and Peter--a couple of losers.” You giggled, holding out your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys,” you said. Ned shook your hand with a big smile. Peter gave your hand a shake, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “As wonderful as it’s been meeting you all, I should head to class. See you guys!” You skipped off down the hall, searching for your first class.

Sam-

When you had returned from Iraq, you were so happy to be home. Your family had thrown a small get-together to celebrate your safe return. Everyone was so proud of you for serving your country. Your parents had offered to let you stay with them until you found yourself a job and an apartment. With a good record, and an honorable discharge, it shouldn’t be hard.

It was two months before you landed a job as a receptionist at the V. A. Center in D.C. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but you made decent money. However, living in D.C. was expensive. Finding a place seemed almost impossible, even with a job. Luckily your parents were extremely understanding.

After about three months at the V. A., you had your job down pretty well. Most of the time you were answering calls from local and nationwide veterans. Most were nice, inquiring about certain medical options and wanting help through the transition back into normal society. Some veterans weren’t as friendly and called to complain about how the government treated them or simply to yell.

You had finished another call and were logging it when someone cleared their throat. You tapped on the board that was in front of you. You listened as the pen scratched across the paper for the visitor. Once you finished your log you glanced up.

A handsome stranger stood in front of your desk, a half-smile on his face. You smiled back, heat rising up your neck.

“Welcome to the V. A. Center, how can I help you?” you asked, fidgeting with your hands.

“I’m Sam Wilson. I have an interview in about twenty-minutes,” he told you. You nodded, sliding down a bit to the other phone. You picked it up, dialing the three numbers to your boss’ office.

“Sir, there’s a Sam Wilson here to see you,” you informed him. “Yes sir.” You slid back down to Mr. Wilson. “He’ll be here shortly, he’s finishing up a meeting.”

Mr. Wilson nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs. You tried your best to not stare, but not staring was never your strong suit. Mr. Wilson was tall, dark, and handsome, how could you not stare? He was sitting back in the chair, his ankle resting on his knee. His arm was thrown over the back of the chair as he stared down the hall.

“Can I ask you something Mr. Wilson?” you inquired, pretending to type on the computer as if you hadn’t spent the last five minutes staring at him.

“Please, Sam is fine,” he said.

“Okay, Sam, can I ask you something?” He nodded. “What branch did you serve?”

“Army,” he replied. You nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“So when they do a men of the Army calendar, is it just twelve months of you?” He paused for a moment before laughing. “What? Don’t like it?” You shot him a wink, a smirk on your face.

“I like it quite a lot, actually… what’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

Bucky-

It took years and years of studying and hard work, but becoming the leading psychiatrist in dealing and helping soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSS), formerly PTSD. You never experienced it personally, but you had neighbors and friends who suffered from it growing up. You wanted to do something helpful in the world, something good, so you dedicated your life to finding ways to work through what others had experienced. Your reputation began to precede you, and that was how you were flown across the world to help one of the worst cases you’d ever seen.

The patient was a Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He served in World War I where he was presumed KIA, Killed In Action. That was until about four years ago when he resurfaced as an assassin for an organization that was almost gone. The more you read, the wilder his story seemed to get. Reading his file, which was quite extensive, covered almost the entire flight to Wakanda.

King T���Challa stood ready to greet you when your plane landed. You bowed your head respectively, taking in the empty fields that surrounded you. He shook your hand firmly, offering you a warm smile.

“Welcome to Wakanda Dr. L/N,” he greeted.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesty,” you said. “You have beautiful, open lands.”

“You’re much too kind. If you would follow me this way.” He held his hand out and began guiding you across one of the fields. Birds chirped above you as you made your trek over the verdant hills.

Just over the last hill was a single hut. Goats roamed around freely, munching on grass and bleating. King T’Challa gestured to the hut, staring at it solemnly.

“White Wolf lives there. He lives happily in solitude, but human interaction is important. The world says you are the best in your field. Please, help him,” the King said. You nodded your head.

“Nothing is guaranteed,” you reminded him. “My methods aren’t a one-hundred percent success, but I will do my best.”

“That is all we ask.”

You nodded one more time before resuming your walk to the small hut, this time alone. The goats were curious about you, pausing their lunch to stare at you. One particularly small one ran to you, nudging its head against your leg.

“Steve, be nice.”

A new voice caught your attention. His hair was longer and his beard was fuller, but you recognized the man as Sergeant Barnes. He stood in the doorway of the hut, staring down at the tiny goat that was now nibbling at the bottom of your pants. He wore white, traditional, Wakanda clothing. A white bandage covered the stub where his arm once was. He would have seemed peaceful were it not for the dark, solemn gaze in his eyes.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you called, bending down to pick up the goat. He looked up at you. “Sergeant Barnes my name is Dr. Y/N L/N. King T’Challa asked me to help you transition back into civilian society.” He nodded his head slowly. The goat, Steve, nestled into your chest, nibbling your shirt. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Of course,” he said, moving aside so you could enter his hut. Setting the goat down, you stepped inside the small hut. It was bare for the most part, only the necessities were present. You took a seat on a nearby chair, watching him carefully. He took a seat across from you, awkwardly shifting in his seat.

“Sergeant Barnes, I would like to preface this by saying I am here to help you, and if what we do isn’t helping, it’s okay to say that,” you said.

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name… it’s Bucky.” You smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you Bucky. I’m Y/N.”

Loki-

Rehabilitation, patience, and forgiveness were some of your core beliefs. You also believed that good was in everyone, no matter what bad deeds they did, no matter how lost they seemed, with the right guidance and a voice of encouragement, you truly believed that anyone could redeem themselves. Because of this firm belief, you started a rehabilitation center in your kingdom which grew into the biggest and most successful rehabilitation center in the world.

Being the princess of a small country was hard, but this success gave your country exactly what it needed--money. Which sounded worse than it actually was. The world runs on money and your people weren’t exactly millionaires, but being paid to rehabilitate both petty and hardened criminals was surprisingly a great way to make money.

So much so that King T’Challa of Wakanda, an old childhood friend of yours, asked a favor from an American aquanitice of his. Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and Avenger, had been asked by his fellow Avenger, Thor to seek a place for his trickster brother. You had heard all about New York in the news, but you never expected that to have an affect on your country. You weren’t so sure until Thor offered to pay in pure gold. That, you simply couldn’t refuse.

You stood on the runway, watching as the plane carrying your latest case began to touch down. The wind whipped your hair around your face, but your sunglasses protected your eyes. The wind settled once the plane came to a stop. The door opened and the first to exit was King T’Challa.

“Your Majesty,” you called. He smiled at you as he descended the stairs.

“Your Highness,” he greeted. He jogged over to you, skipping all formalities to give you a heartfelt hug. “It has been too long, old friend.”

“Much too long,” you agreed. A posse of people had followed him. Guards from Wakanda, Tony Stark, Thor, and his brother, Loki.

“Princess Y/N, this is my American acquaintance, Tony Stark.”

“Yes, Stark Industries precedes you.” He bowed to you respectfully.

“Your Highness, this is Thor and his troublesome brother Loki,” Stark said, gesturing to the two giant men beside him. Loki was bound in unique chains and had his face covered so you could only see his eyes.

“Welcome, gentlemen. We are happy to welcome you to our small corner of the world. If you all would follow me,” you said. You looped your arm through T’Challa’s, leading them to the facilities where Loki would be kept. “While your brother is a rather unique guest, we will be treating him like we treat everyone else here. Because of his abilities, he will be placed in a special room designed specifically for him.”

“How do you know it will hold Reindeer Games over here?” Stark asked, sending a pointed look to Loki. You smiled.

“I had a top engineer design it using advanced technologies that could put your entire company to shame,” you said. A smirk pulled at T’Challa’s mouth at the mention of his sister.

“You are very kind for doing this Princess Y/N,” Thor said. “I know with the right guidance, my brother will come back to who he used to be. Loki rolled his eyes at that, opting to look out the window. From the corner of your eye, you could see him staging at your reflection through the glass.

“It’s my pleasure.”

#haveanotherfandomblog post #marvel #mcu #peter parker #sam wilson #bucky barnes #loki laufeyson #peter parker x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x reader #peter parker x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #loki layfeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #peter x reader #peter x y/n #sam x reader #sam x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #loki x reader #loki x y/n #spiderman #falcon #winter soldier #avengers preferences #mcu preferences #avengers

[pollylynn]

Title: Rhizome WC: 1000

Kyle Jennings bothers her. He doesn’t bug her. Castle is still the leading man in that role. For the moment, at least. For the moment. But Kyle Jennings, the fact of him out of make-up and costume, off Perlmutter’s autopsy table, bothers her. He disrupts the point of view she’s been holding on to for dear life these last few weeks.

He is not Rhett, Assistant Professor of Anthropology, who has gone into who knows how much student loan debt, not just to craft some kind of intellectual justification for his eternal childhood, but to make himself the poster boy for postmodern life, in general. He’s not Paul, an apparent stoner for life, who’ll probably drift right through his “adulthood” and on into old age. 

Kyle Jennings is a normal man with a normal job—with what, frankly, sounds like a deadly boring job—who happens to have a slightly oddball, moderately expensive hobby. But his home, his finances, his friends, his life, they’re all normal. His reaction to the revelation that he is almost certainly responsible for a homicide he claims to have no memory of committing is normal, if the word even applies in such a bizarre situation. 

Men who play ludicrously complicated games of tag, who play dress-up in costumes that would probably consume a good chunk of her monthly salary, should not be capable of functioning in the real world as Kyle Jenkins seems to be. They should be impossible misfits, losers she sees across the interrogation table, because they always wind up a person of interest in some crime or another. They should be oversized little boys, all hormones and impulse, and anyone who trusts them to be more—to ever be more—does so at their peril. 

They should be the thing—the one, blindingly obvious thing—you always knew they were. You fucking knew it, and as painful as that truth is, it’s at least simple. 

But Kyle Jennings is not simple. Even his zombie alter ego—what draws him to the game—doesn’t seem to be simple. That alone bothers her, and what’s worse is that she believes him. She watches him carefully as he takes the absolutely correct amount of time to glance at David Locke’s photo and conclude he’s never seen the man. She registers his anxiety and confusion, but there’s nothing to indicate that he’s eliding details or flat out covering anything up. 

She feels her cop sense do a flip-flop of surprise at the way he doesn’t bullshit at all. His gaze fixes on the screen capture of his costumed self. She sees his injured hands clench and unclench as though he’s reminding himself of the fact of the cuts and bruises. He makes his devastated, yet unadorned reply—Yes, that’s me—and she believes, without reservation, that he has no memory of what transpired in the parking lot of David Locke’s firm. 

But Castle does not believe. 

It happens in an instant. She thinks of a foosball table, with its lines of weighted figures moving side to side as one, rearing back and shooting their feet forward in concert. She thinks of being five or six, of her grandfather lifting her up above a crowd of bigger kids so she could see the inner workings of a series of giant Rube Goldberg machines. The row of little men spins wildly. The sliver ball spirals down the ramp and there’s the drawn-out sizzle of dominos falling. 

Castle does not believe, and in an instant, she connects the dots to Bobby Lopez, to her belief, without reservation, that the little shit was lying, to the abandoned cup of coffee on her desk. That part is simple—how it happened, when it happened, what happened. 

Why it happened—why it has been happening and is still happening right here in this hospital hallway—is not simple at all. 

He is an oversized little boy with enough money that he doesn’t have to be a misfit. He is all hormones and impulse, and he’s mean. He is what she knew him to be when she scoped him out from the margins of that book party four years ago. He’s a man who signs chests with an air of noblesse oblige and believes his own hype. 

That’s the simple explanation she’s dug her fingernails into through flight attendants and flirtations with the dark side. It’s the Occam’s Razor she’s been gladly cutting herself on for weeks. It’s the quick and dirty, miserably painful, eleventh hour reveal that has been, in a terrible way, a relief, because she almost certainly can’t do this—she can’t be more, and thank God, he’s not worth it anyway. 

But he’s looking her in the eye now. He is squaring his shoulders and he is angry, he is hurt. He’s been mean, he’s lived down to the expectations she’s always been quick to voice, and it’s not that these last few weeks—who he has seemed to be—are her fault, but it’s not without explanation, either. It was never so simple as something inevitable.

It all happens in an instant, and then the instant is over. Perlmutter is there. Tom Williams is simple, exactly what everyone except his fiancée can see he is, and Kyle Jennings is putting away childish things. It’s a shame, really. It’s a shame for so many complicated reasons. 

But it serves its purpose—this thing that is more complicated and bothersome than it should be. She talks and he listens. She realizes all that he doesn’t know—all that he had no way of knowing—and just like that, the sting of the lone, pernicious thing he did know is all but gone. 

She wants him around. 

He’d like to stay. 

And in honor of the bothersome Kyle Jennings in all his contradictory glory, she smiles and tells him in all honesty—I don’t know. I kind of think that the zombie make-up suits you, Castle.  

A/N: Costumes. Hmmm. 

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 4 #Castle: Undead Again #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #fan Fic #Fan fiction #Writing #Hmmm

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: What do you make of Prime Minister Theresa May as her rules slowly comes to an end with the election of a new PM, probably Boris Johnson. An improvement? Will he be the one to get the UK out of Europe?

I never rated Theresa May, she was an ambitious but risk averse careerist like most of the modern Conservative Party. When she finally achieved her life time’s ambition by becoming Prime Minister, she made a mess of it.

Many years ago Enoch Powell, the great Conservative politician who was treated pariah for being so prophetic, stated the fate of all who climb the greasy pole of politics.  He said, “All political lives, unless they are cut off in midstream at a happy juncture, end in failure, because that is the nature of politics and of human affairs.”

The same fate awaits Boris Johnson.

Is Johnson an improvement? He will be if compared to May who was as about as compelling as watching paint dry.

My main objection to him is character. he doesn’t have the character to be a good Prime Minister. Like Trump he is a charlatan who is entertaining but preening with man-child issues and narcissistic entitlement.

I don’t care about his messy personal life as he bonked women half his life while cheating on all his wives. Nor do I care for the scandal of his love children outside of marriage. You can argue that this shows his true character. Perhaps. But of course, it does show his personal morality but this doesn’t actually stop him being competent at his job. The trouble is that he has never been competent in his life.

By all counts, Johnson is clever but has always been quite lazy and a low attention span to follow through on tasks. When he was Foreign Secretary he never bothered to read his briefs or dive deep into the red boxes. He’s been fired as a journalist for lying - which is pretty hard to do considering many journalists bend the truth.  To many he is an opportunistic charlatan but with the confident artifice of Eton and Oxford grooming.

But I think he might be the only one who could takes us out of the EU. Make no mistake, we do need to get out of the EU.

But on what terms? At what price?

I fear his hands are tied, just like May, by the structural challenges of leaving the EU without a deal. The Irish backstop is of course biggest spanner to a meaningful deal. The prospect of a hard border between Ireland and Northern Island is one everyone secretly dreads in terms of what it might mean to return to the dark days of sectarian Protestant-Catholic violence. Ask any seasoned military veteran of the 70s and 80s and they will tell you Northern Ireland was their worst mission or posting than any they ever did. Even today the memories are bitter ones for British soldiers.

How the Irish border question gets resolved in the face of EU insistence of no more negotiations and compromises is a severe headache once the politicians stop their posturing.

Of bigger concern is President Trump.

It may come as news to some Americans but Trump is wildly viewed as unpopular by many in Britain, regardless of political loyalties. Both left and right see his dissing of the UK and interfering in British politics as gross and uncouth.

No one trusts anything that comes out of Trump’s mouth because he is a proven serial liar. When he talks of of trade deals with the post-Brexit UK, we all know he will never seek an equitable deal but one that is about ‘America first’ and screwing us over.

In this regard I do think the encroachment of American big pharma into British health system as well as the relaxing of food quality standards (like chlorinated chicken) is setting off alarm bells because they think Johnson will be will cave and be an obedient poodle.

Johnson’s supine role in not backing the current UK ambassador to the US, Kim Darroch, is a case in point. It doesn’t look good if you are seen to being dictated to by a foreign leader if you don’t back your own foreign ministry. Nor will the British people ever forgive him if Johnson acquiesces as if he was running the 51st state for the USA. It would be simply unacceptable because we are a proud nation with a proud history. 

Surprisingly, I’m not blaming Trump because his ‘America First’ beliefs. I think that is fine for the US as that’s his job to look out for his nation first. But conversely it’s bad for us. Trump as it’s now clear only thinks of deals in zero sum terms - there is only one winner so there has to be a loser. That’s his mind set. Again, I’m not holding that against Trump because he is being true to his nature.

America First is fine as far as it goes for American interests but for us we won’t get a fair deal because as a nation just breaking away from the EU umbrella we will not have any cover nor any leverage to punch back.

A pro-Brexit friend who actually worked under a minister told me that perhaps we should stay in the EU until Trump is replaced and then cut a deal. Firstly, I think he’s dreaming as no one can predict what the outcome of 2020 will be in the US. Secondly, who is to say whoever replaces Trump might be any easier to negotiate with? Thirdly, if the longer we delay leaving the more people will get used to us staying in and then it really will be harder to leave.

The big lie is that everything will be smelling daisies the day after we leave the EU with no deal. That’s BS. I know many corporate finance firms already making contingency plans to move to Ireland. Even Jacob Rees-Mogg, the arch Brexiteer, has set up his capital finance holdings firm in Dublin. Everyone I know with any capital or wealth already have insulated themselves as best as they legally can.

At the same time, these very people are salivating at the prospect of making the UK a place where easy money and capital can come and go with little oversight or regulation. Most of these things I agree with in principle. I think the City of London would continue to remain an attractive place to do business despite being outside the EU.

However I sometimes think the City of London has got its head up its own arse and thinks more about quick short term gains and little about the long term impact of its actions. The rot is deep in our country with the continued decline of investment in manufacturing in the country and greater wealth and education gaps between people. McJobs and the gig economy are not going to restore Britian’s greatness only hasten its decline.

Of course small British businesses will be hurt in the short and medium term by a no deal Brexit but don’t forget this is what they voted for. It will be painful. But some might well think it will be a worthy sacrifice to lose jobs and business in order to rebuild properly for the long term free of Brussels and bureaucrats. But that price won’t be paid by capital holding classes.

A very wealthy high flyer working in City of London put it to me over dinner not so long ago that people think that politics is about left vs right but actually it’s about those who have wealth and those who don’t.

The trick is to vent the flames of public passions towards abstract straw men like ‘freedom’ or ‘sovereignty’ or in the US it would take the form of ‘guns’ or ‘abortion’.

People on BOTH sides of an issue expend volatile passion that they each entrench their (legitimate) grievances so deep into permanent persecution complexes. It’s further ossified by the relentless and constant echo chamber they each inhabit to reinforce their own entrenched beliefs and prejudices. So much so they forget about where the real obscene truth lies.

That this has always been a Darwinian world and there will always be winners and losers in life - there will always the rulers (oligarchies) and the ruled, the haves and the have-nots, and the rich and the poor. It’s a very cynical take on human nature and our society.

As much as I wanted to disagree with him, deep down I felt there was more than a tinge of truth to his words. It’s true. The corporate world is not personal nor is it political per se. It’s just about the making money for shareholders and to accumulate capital for the sake of it. It wields power to insulate itself from scrutiny and to have the freedom to do as it pleases. It appeals to people’s base motives at their purest - individual self-preservation. At some stage it’s going to clash with the principles and the institutions of democracy and questions of what takes precedence becomes acute. But that debate is for another day.

I still like to think we live in a world where ideas matter regardless how bare you strip life down to the bones.

In the case of Brexit, to me the sovereignty of Parliament serving at the pleasure of the Queen is paramount. It’s ruling one’s nation from first principles. If it’s your nation then you should have sovereign control over all decisions being made for its citizens. Moreover those making the decisions should be open to public scrutiny and be accountable. The nation state (under a constitutional monarchy in the case of Britain) is only accountable to its subjects and not to outsiders. All fine in theory except it’s an issue when these very elites charged with ruling over the masses have deep structural rot in them and they are just floating to get by like dead wood. Renewal and regeneration looks like a pipe dream.

I love Europe and I consider myself a proud European but I find it unacceptable to be partly ruled from a foreign capital whether it’s Brussels, Berlin, Paris, Moscow or Washington DC.

The hubris of a Franco-German led Europe is real. The EU began on a worthy premise that both France and Germany never go to war again. But it has mutated into some confederated nightmare today. The folly of its confederate policies are apparent and it will only worsen.

I doubt Boris Johnson has the political gravitas - even if he has the low cunning or the wit - to out fox other European leaders and their mad integration policies. They know him too well since he was for years a lazy and incompetent correspondent in Brussels.

It may well be Johnson is the ‘useful idiot’ Britain needs to take us out of the EU but Britain will need another leader with integrity, character and conviction to lead us to build proper alliances and repair relations with other Europeans to collectively face threats to our shared identities and nationhood.

The trouble is I don’t see that person in the current Conservative Party. But don’t take my word on this please, I have a natural allergic reaction to all politicians of all stripes.

I don’t know how things will turn out but i am beginning to be concerned that whatever path we take is going to be fraught with danger - greater incendiary issues down the road will come back to bite us up the arse. 

Thanks for your question

#question #theresa may #enoch powell #boris johnson #british politics

[joonbird]

Heartbeat | 7

➭ “You’ve always stayed far away from the Kingsnakes, the coldblooded gang that runs the dark heart of your city. That is until your life collides with the intriguing and dangerous Jung Hoseok.”

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: gang!au, smut, angst

wordcount: 12k

part one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

** warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and violence, dark themes, gang activity, explicit drug references, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of death. and bathtub sex **

Sleep feels impossible tonight. 

Every muscle in Hoseok’s body is locked in place, his eyes stare listlessly into the darkness of his room. No matter what he does, no matter how many times he swears under his breath and rolls over onto one side, he can’t fall asleep. 

His mind is swirling with thoughts, thoughts that are unwanted and painful, thoughts infused with the question mark of what could’ve been, thoughts that start and end with your name on the tip of his tongue.

Hoseok has never been the type of person to reminisce on the past, largely due to his belief that reflection is unnecessary. You can’t turn back time and change the past, so why bother dwelling on it? But now, when the evening is fading into dawn, and the sky is awash with the milky blue of breaking daylight, Hoseok silently confesses that he chooses to ignore the past because it’s easier than confronting it.

The past is painful. Hoseok knows this better than anybody. He’s trained his mind to not think back on particular turning points of his life, he’s sharpened the skill of actively not remembering darker times. But ever since you came into his world, he can’t ignore his past anymore. Everything that he tried so hard to bury deep is rising to the surface.

Hoseok clutches the sheets in his hands and lets out another soft, “Fuck”. It does little to ease his racing thoughts. He thinks about you, how your eyes flash with hurt when he says things to you that are particularly cold and cruel. He thinks about how your voice sound when it whispers his name, the nape of your neck and the curve of your waist, the look of shock that painted over your features when he pressed his lips to yours for the first time.

“Stop it,” Hoseok mutters into the darkness, his voice harsh. Stop thinking about her.

Hoseok curses himself for his total lack of foresight, for his inability to see when something is good before it’s too late. He thinks he’s so cunning, so clever, when in reality he can’t see anything at all. He didn’t see you coming into his life, he didn’t see you changing his life, and he didn’t see you walking out of his life- until of course, it was too late.

Am I a bad person? The thought creeps in, and Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t know anymore. For a long time, he had just accepted that he was a bad person. Hoseok can’t recall all the times he’s done fucked up things, hurt people, received a sick sense of numbing satisfaction from affirming that yes, He had never considered the possibility that he was redeemable, that he may not be an intrinsically bad person. Until you.

Hoseok leans back on his bedframe, slumping forward until his head is in his hands. This hurts. This really, really hurts. It hurts, the way you eased into his heart with killer precision. He doesn’t know how to get you out. He doesn’t want to get you out. 

Hoseok lifts his head and absently fumbles on his nightstand table for the pack of cigarettes he keeps there, his fingers catching on the box. He hesitates, before he finally throws the box, hard, across the room. A dramatic gesture perhaps, but Hoseok couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. Cigarettes spill out onto his bedroom floor and he swears again. 

He looks at the clock, it reads 5:03AM. It’s 5AM, and he’s here, head in his hands, thinking about a woman who makes him feel a heady kind of hopefulness, a woman who taught him that there may be more to life than living fast and dying young. 

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut and weakly tells himself to stop being such a weak motherfucking bitch, that you have left his life and it’s for the better, that you’re just another memory to lock away and forget about.

He lies awake in bed until daylight breaks over the horizon.

Twenty years ago, on a Friday evening in the middle of December, Jung Hoseok fell in love with dancing.

It was a Friday, because Friday was always the day that his Mum liked to go grocery shopping. Every Friday was like clockwork – Hoseok trailing his mother around the store while she slowly, carefully picked out boxes and cans. It was always Friday, because Hoseok’s father stayed out on Friday nights, stumbling in the house late into the evening with the sharp smell of alcohol plumed around him like smoke. 

It was during October, because the air was brisk when Hoseok slipped away from his mother and walked out of the store. It had felt like a thin film of ice was going to settle over his skin if he stayed outside for too long. 

Hoseok was certain he’d always be able to remember it. The cold that brushed over his skin, the quiet hum of the store doors closing behind him, and there – on the concrete in front of the store, a group of guys. 

They had a battered portable radio that was perched on the hood of an equally battered car, the crackly weak bass of a hip hop song filtered into the air. The group of guys were joking around, pushing each other and filling the beats of the song with their light, cloying jabs and insults – and they were dancing.

Hoseok had stared at them with wide eyes. Each movement they made was strong and bold, and they were entirely in control of their bodies. One guy, the one in the middle with a cap jammed over his hair and trackpants about two sizes too big for him, had a smile that he was struggling to contain. He was a man who was in control of each of his movements, a firm grip on the rhythm that coursed through body, controlled over everything except the smile that teased at his features. 

Hoseok’s breath was coming out in puffs of cold into the night air and he wondered, right then and there, if he could be like that one day.

It was one of those, right time, right place sort of situations. The kind of scenario where everything pieces together so exactly, that it can only be due to a stroke of luck, a twist of destiny. A red thread of fate.

Hoseok was a few days from turning sixteen when he met Z. 

His father had passed away the month prior. Hoseok had stood at his father’s funeral just last weekend, dressed in a rented suit that smelled like sweat and felt starchy on his skin, watching as people he had never met before shuffled through with tears dotted on their cheeks. Hoseok had looked up at the framed photo of his father that people were crying over, and he wondered what exactly they were crying for.

You’re nothing. His father’s voice floated into his thoughts. Hoseok squeezed his eyes shut, thinking about all the times his father had called him a loser, a coward, a ‘fucking pussy’, until finally just landing on the words that Hoseok had grown accustomed to hearing – ‘You’re nothing, Hoseok.’ 

Hoseok thought back to all the times he had seen his mother crying in the kitchen early in the morning when she thought the house was asleep, her hands bent in front of her, praying. Hoseok had always felt so tiny and powerless every time he heard his mother cry, every time his father’s fist went crunching into his cheek, every time the words You’re nothing echoed through his thoughts. 

Hoseok’s eyes had fluttered open and a few funeral-goers stared at him, eyes sympathetic and pitying. His mother, standing beside him, was crying – his baby sister in her arms. Hoseok’s father was gone, but the pressure he put on the family remained. He was gone, but all these people were still crying. Hoseok looked at the tears tracking down everyone’s faces, at the photo of his father perched high in the funeral hall.

He didn’t cry.

It was that memory that lingered in Hoseok’s mind when Sungmin approached him after school and asked him if he was free to talk. He was the same age as Hoseok, they were in the same Geometry class, yet Hoseok had never exchanged more than two words with him. 

Sungmin was something of a mystery, no one knew much about him. What Hoseok did know, however, was that Sungmin was always wearing a leather jacket that was two sizes too big for him, Sungmin was part of some newly established gang, and that Sungmin, for some reason, was standing on front of him now wanting to ‘talk’.

Sungmin was the same age as Hoseok but he felt older. He had an air of confidence about him, and he dug into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. He offered it to Hoseok, and even though Hoseok had never so much as touched a cigarette in his life- he took it. 

He held it gingerly in his fingers and took a drag, coughing at the feeling of smoke in his lungs. Sungmin just watched on, an amused smile on his face.

“Will you teach me how to breakdance?”

Hoseok had been momentarily surprised. Of all the questions he had been anticipating, it hadn’t been that one. What surprised him the most though, was how quickly he answered back, his response.

“Okay.”

Sungmin was a slow learner. He was a clumsy dancer. He also, surprisingly enough, evolved from classmate to friend. 

Hoseok learned a lot about Sungmin when they met up after school. He learned that Sungmin wanted to learn how to dance because his girlfriend, Lorna, had mentioned she liked breakdancers. He learned that Sungmin had a short fuse and a tendency to spew filthy swear words when he couldn’t get a move right.

He learned that Sungmin’s chest puffed out in pride whenever he talked about his friends, the gang that he was currently being initiated into. ‘The Kingsnakes,’ Sungmin would say, struggling to keep a cool expression on his face, ‘That’s our name, by the way.’ 

Hoseok had learned that Sungmin, when he found something unbearably funny, slapped his hand over his mouth and laughed silently, shoulders shaking up and down. 

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but it did – somewhere along the way he had become friends with the other boy. It was a realization he had when he was leaning against the wall of the warehouse one school night with Sungmin, smoking cigarettes and discussing whether it was worth staying in school, or dropping out. 

“You never smoke them properly.” Sungmin had complained, pointing his cigarette butt at Hoseok accusingly. “You’ve gotta inhale. Yoongi taught me that.”

Hoseok wrinkled his nose, watching as the other boy took a deep drag, exhaling a mouthful of smoke with exaggerated confidence.

“Yoongi?”

Sungmin hummed in response. “Yep. He’s the leader of the Kingsnakes.”

Hoseok’s mouth opened into a small ‘o’. He stared at the cigarette in his hands, the glowing embers falling to the ground.

“Sungmin, will you introduce me to him? Yoongi, I mean.”

“Z,” Sungmin corrected. Hoseok looked up questioningly and Sungmin shrugged.

“Call me Z. It’s a new nickname I’m trying.”

“Loser.” Hoseok rolled his eyes and Sungmin grinned, staring at his friend thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’ll introduce you. You’ll owe me, though.”

Hoseok nodded, feeling a thrill start in his spine. He didn’t know why he was asking to meet Yoongi, he didn’t know why he was here with Sungmin, all he did know was that he felt good. He felt like he belonged, like he wasn’t a kid anymore, like he was taking charge of his life.

He picked up the cigarette and inhaled properly. It burned in his lungs and it made his head spin, he fought the urge to cough as he exhaled all the smoke. It cloaked his vision and somewhere through the haze, he heard the almost silent strains of Sungmin’s laughter.

Min Yoongi was not what Hoseok had expected. He had hair that was dyed an unnatural shade of ice blue, and eyes that gazed him up and down suspiciously upon first glance. 

“Who’s this?” 

Yoongi didn’t direct the question to him, glancing over instead at Z who was standing by Hoseok’s side.

“My friend. Wanted to meet you.” 

And just like that, Yoongi’s eyes were back on him. Hoseok squirmed uncomfortably.

“Why did you want to meet me?”

Hoseok’s voice was pitchy, it gave away his nerves as he spoke.

“I was wondering if I could hang around with you guys.”

Yoongi just raised an eyebrow.

“…You guys?”

Hoseok’s face flushed and he nodded. “The… the Kingsnakes.”

For a long moment, Yoongi just stared at Hoseok, a perplexed expression on his face before he sighed.

“Yeah, whatever. You can hang round with us if you want.” Yoongi’s voice was bored, and Hoseok nodded eagerly. 

“But if you’re going to do that, you need to understand that there’s nothing more important to me than loyalty. Whether you’re going to hang round for a little bit or longer, at the end of the day, all I ask for, and all I expect, is loyalty. Whatever you see, whatever goes down – it’s between us and us only. Understood?” He spoke slowly, still with that bored tone- but Hoseok didn’t miss the steeliness in his words. 

“Yeah, I… I understand.” 

He must have passed whatever test Yoongi was giving because the older boy relaxed, but kept eyeing him curiously. 

“So, why do you want in with the Kingsnakes, kid? You want money, drugs, friends? What is it?” 

Hoseok sensed Sungmin’s eyes on him too, and he shrugged.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m nothing.” He said honestly, to which Yoongi just let out a soft hum in response.

After that, Hoseok’s life became something like a whirlwind of firsts. 

The first kiss, exchanged at a Kingsnake party with some girl from another school who had crawled into his lap and kissed him. 

The first time he had done drugs, a tiny bump of cocaine that he snorted while wedged between Yoongi and a few of the other members at a party.  

The first time he skipped class, spending the day hanging around with some of the guys and getting high, enjoying it so much that he eventually stopped going to class altogether. 

The first time he fucked a girl, thrusting into her, his body using hers, feeling invincible. 

The first time Yoongi asked him to help out, to keep watch for a drug deal. That had also been the first time Yoongi had slapped his shoulder and grinned at him, telling him he was alright. 

The first time Hoseok was handed an envelope stuffed with bills, feeling a rush of excitement because that money was his, he had earned it. It was the first time Hoseok felt secure, powerful, like maybe he had someplace where he belonged. 

The first time a needle touched his skin, inking a snake onto his wrist. The first time his mother saw the tattoo and teared up, asking Hoseok if he was safe.

The first time he and a few of the guys beat up another guy for ratting on them. The first time he punched someone’s jaw. The first time he saw Z’s eyes flash with simmering lust, punching until Yoongi told him in a sharp tone, Enough.

The first time Hoseok felt uncertainty about his decision to join the Kingsnakes. The first time he questioned whether he had made the right choices, whether his past was doomed to repeat itself. 

“Yoongi likes you.” Z muttered to him on the night of his eighteenth birthday. “He’s always picking you to be his backup him in deals and shit.”

The two had slipped outside for a cigarette, standing shoulder by shoulder in the brisk air. Lorna, Z’s girlfriend, had joined them at first before she too slipped back inside, complaining about the cold weather. 

“Yoongi?” Hoseok echoed. Z just grunted. Hoseok cocked his head to the side, considered those words.

“You’re probably next in line to run the group, at this point.” Z added.

Hoseok had turned to his friend, whose face was lit only by the red embers. Ash fell to the ground and Hoseok shrugged in response. He felt good, his body was buzzed, he felt like something, like he was something. He thought back on the tiny, frightened kid he used to be and a wry smile tugged on his lips.

“Nah. That’s all you, Sungmin.” 

Z let out a loud scoff, reaching over and giving Hoseok a feeble punch. “You loser.” He laughed. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s fucking freezing.”

A few weeks later, Hoseok stood outside Yoongi’s house, shivering and muttering complaints under his breath.

“Stupid motherfucking Min Yoongi asks me to drop something off and then doesn’t even answer the door,” Hoseok mumbled, walking down the driveway. “Fuck, it’s cold.” He paused once he got to his bike, sighing in annoyance as he turned around, walking directly past the front door and weaving his way through the gate. 

He had been to Yoongi’s house several times, and when he got to the back door, it was, as expected, unlocked. He stepped into the house, holding the package under his arms. The house was quiet, his footsteps heavy on the floor. 

“Hoseok?” 

Yoongi padded out, dressed just in a pair of black jocks. “What are you- just, get out of here, I’m busy today.”

His voice was harsh and Hoseok cringed, throwing the package down on the kitchen table. “Yeah sorry, it’s all there, the delivery, the guy-”

“Yoongi?” A female voice cut faintly through Hoseok’s words. Hoseok froze.

He recognized that voice.

He glanced over at Yoongi questioningly and the stricken look on the other man’s face said it all.

“Yoongi…. Is that…” Hoseok breathed.

“Fuck,” Yoongi swore.

Hoseok closed and opened his mouth.

“Don’t say anything,” Yoongi asked in a low voice, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You won’t say anything, Hoseok?” He looked up and for the first time Hoseok saw Yoongi not as the strong, invincible leader of the group but as he was – vulnerable and broken. 

“Okay.” Hoseok muttered dumbly. Yoongi nodded and the two men stared at each other tensely before Hoseok turned and walked out of the back door. 

He half expected Yoongi to come barreling behind him, but he was met with nothing but silence. He got to his motorcycle, still perched by the driveway.

Hoseok recognized that voice, husky and distinctive. Hoseok saw it in the panic that crossed over Yoongi’s face, the pleading tone of his voice.

It was Lorna. Z’s girlfriend.

“Fuck,” Hoseok muttered. “Fuck!”

Anger, fear, hot and uncomfortable emotion swelled in his chest as Hoseok kicked his bike. 

The resounding pain that went through his leg just intensified the frustration, but there was nothing he could do about the pain. It was too late, and what had been done, was done. 

Months later, it was summer. The days were long and hot, and the air felt still. It was the calm before the storm.

Hoseok spent the majority of his days in a sticky, clouded haze. He was stretched out on the couch, his mind comfortably blurry when he heard his front door slam open. 

He didn’t bother locking it half the time, today was one of those days, and he glanced up blearily. It was Z, and Hoseok sat up, yawning.

“What’s up dude? Haven’t seen you round last few days.”

Z was agitated, Hoseok could sense it from the moment that he walked in the room. Z didn’t respond immediately, pacing back and forth before he finally flopped down on the chair opposite Hoseok.

“Found out that Min fucking Yoongi was screwing my girlfriend behind my back.”

Hoseok’s blood turned to ice. 

Z let out an emphatic, “Fuck” before he sighed, leaning back on the chair.

“I… how?” Hoseok asked, his voice sounding faint to his own ears.

Z didn’t answer, his eyes closed. “Does it matter?” 

“Where…. Where is Yoongi now? Have you talked to him?”

Z opened one eye. A smile spread across his face, and he shrugged.

“That’s just the thing. I was going to talk to him about it, but you’ll never believe it. Turns out there was an oxygen bubble in his bloodstream. He’s dead.”

Dead? 

Hoseok could hear the blood in his ears. Z closed his eyes again and shrugged.

“Freak accident. Crazy, right?” 

Hoseok’s throat was dry. He sunk back down onto the couch, his head spinning.

And there it was. The sound of Z’s silent, dry laughter. Hoseok could recognize it anywhere. Hoseok felt dread start to pool in the pit of his stomach as Z spoke, his words low and dangerous like the rattle of a snake.

“There’s nothing more important than loyalty, right?”

Hoseok didn’t answer, pushing off of the couch.

“Need a cigarette.” He mumbled. He knew it was a stupid excuse, for God’s sake he smoked in his house, but he needed fresh air. He needed to clear his stupid, clouded, jumbled thoughts, because Yoongi was dead. Yoongi was dead. Hoseok’s mind was racing with thoughts as he pushed open his front door and walked down the driveway.

An oxygen bubble? In his bloodstream?

Hoseok’s hands were trembling as he walked down his street, he furtively glanced behind his shoulder to ensure no one was tailing him. He pulled out his phone, holding it to his ear. The moment it clicked, he spoke.

“Lorna, Yoongi’s dead.” 

There was a shocked silence on the end of the line. Hoseok didn’t let it linger, speaking rapidly.

“Get out of here, okay?”

He heard a choked sound on the other line, an almost animal like cry. He didn’t dwell on it, he squeezed the phone tighter, feeling his heart thump in his chest.

“Lorna, do you understand me? Get the fuck out of here, alright?”

She was crying, and Hoseok hung up, his hands trembling. 

He had no idea why he had done that, he didn’t owe Lorna anything. He didn’t owe anyone anything. Except Z.

Z. Hoseok stood, frozen, as he looked behind his shoulder again. The street was empty, but he felt a hum of paranoia and fear race through his veins as he turned off his phone, trying to settle his shaking hands as he turned and walked back into the house.

He walked back inside his living room, feeling his muscles tense up. Z was still sitting in that same chair, he didn’t look up as Hoseok returned to the couch.

“So, we’ve got the Deckard deal next week. You’ll help?” Z began, and Hoseok glanced up. Their eyes met and Hoseok swallowed. 

You can still run, Hoseok.

He nodded. 

I can’t run.

“Good.” Z glanced back at the TV and Hoseok stared at him. He and Z were friends. He owed Z, it was Z who had pulled him into the web of the Kingsnakes, it was that web that had given him power, money, helped him pull himself and his family out of debt.

Hoseok negotiated in his head that really, nothing had changed. The Kingsnakes would remain the same, even with Z at the helm. That Yoongi’s death really was a freak accident. Things wouldn’t worsen, they couldn’t.

I won’t run.

“Hoseok, you didn’t know about Yoongi and Lorna, did you?”

Hoseok felt his heart stutter. His stomach twisted, as he looked up, meeting Z’s gaze.

“No, I didn’t.”

I can’t run.

Z smiled, satisfied, and nodded. “Good.”

I can’t fucking run.

Hoseok sat still, feeling utterly paralyzed. For the first time in years, he felt that insidious, horrible feeling inside of his chest, that voice, telling him that he was nothing. And the red thread of fate that tied him as a ten year old kid to dancing had been cut. 

It was replaced by the black threads of the Kingsnakes, woven tightly around him until he could no longer breathe.

The moment you enter Taehyung’s hospital room, you gasp. 

A sharp, involuntary intake of breath that draws everyone’s attention on you. Your eyes scan over the room – at Ara, who gazes at you with an expression that is saturated with disappointment and hurt, at the police officers who eye you with suspicion, at a nurse who hones in on you as soon as you enter.

“I’m sorry, but you’re outside of visiting hours.” Her clipboard is tucked under her arm, her hair slicked back into a low bun. “Only direct family are permitted here, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“She is family.”

The voice interrupts before you can respond. It’s Taehyung. Your eyes meet his and he smiles tiredly at you. 

Your heart gives out in your chest when you see him, at the faded bruised rings that mar his face, at the way his chest heaves delicately with each breath. 

“She’s not-” Ara begins, but Taehyung just continues to speak.

“She’s family. Nurse,” Taehyung glances away to smile politely at the nurse. “Could I have five minutes with her?”

The nurse grumbles, you hear the soft strains of her voice and Ara’s but eventually, she nods. The police officers stand up and leave first, their eyes beady and intent on you as they shuffle out of the room, before the others follow. You try to meet Ara’s gaze but she stares away from you pointedly, and you feel a twist in your chest.

Finally, the room is empty. You glance at Taehyung, he smiles at you and nods to the chair that is perched beside his bed. “Sit down.” 

Your legs feel wooden as you walk over, lowering yourself into the plastic chair.

The room elapses into silence, a silence that is broken only by the quiet electronic beat of Taehyung’s heart monitor.

“Tae-”

“Are you-”

You both start speaking at once, faltering when your voices overlap. Taehyung chuckles, shifts in bed. “You go first.”

You glance up, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. He looks so frail like this, mottled splashes of purple fading beneath his skin, pale lips, a smile on his face. Your eyes linger on the IV drip that threads into his skin and you swallow.

“I’m sorry.”

You whisper the words like they’re a secret.

Taehyung clicks his tongue softly. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I… what happened to you, I-”

“What happened is just a case of wrong time, wrong place. Nothing more than that. Just some thugs who were high on drugs and wanted some quick cash.”

Taehyung speaks quickly, his voice low and calm and you shake your head, tears beginning to strain at the back of your throat. Taehyung’s voice rises a little, speeds up a touch, “Really, it was just bad luck. Thank God for insurance, right? The doctors said I’ll heal up in no time too so-“

”Tae.” You say his name and Taehyung falls silent. “It was the Kingsnakes. They-”

“I know it was them.”

A silence settles between the two of you and Taehyung’s fingers, trembling, run over the IV drip in the centre of his hand. For the first time since it was just the two of you in this room, Taehyung looks away. You keep your eyes on him, seeing the rapid blink of his eyes, the way his lips move as if he’s talking silently. He’s trying not to cry, trying to hold himself together even now when his body is on the brink of falling apart. Your chest aches and the raw ache at the back of your throat intensifies.

“I’m not going to tell the police anything about them. I haven’t. And I won’t.”

“Taehyung, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse. “I did. I’m not saying a word. I’m not putting you in danger. There’s no evidence. It’s better to not say anything.”

“Taehyung this is serious.” The words come out harsher than intended and Taehyung finally looks up again, his eyes uncharacteristically steely. 

“I know it’s not a game. It’s your life, and…” His eyes are wet with tears and he looks so young that your heart twists and tears finally start threatening to spill in your eyes, because this is Taehyung, the Taehyung you have known since you were a kid, the Taehyung who was always older and cooler and never afraid of anything, “…the thought of your life being at risk... I can’t, I just can’t.” 

He swallows hard and stares determinedly at the grey hospital blanket draped over his lap. You feel a twist right in your gut, a pain like a knife slicing through butter. 

Taehyung, staring down at the ground, his eyes wavering with tears that he is fighting to hold back, the steady beep of his heart-rate monitor, the sterile smell of the hospital filling your nostrils and locking around you hard and fast. 

It feels like your mind is going a million miles a minute, different emotions tugging you into different places. You think about Taehyung, who is protecting you even now, who is doing the wrong thing for you. Guilt in the sharpest sense needles at you. 

You think about the fists that crunched with a ferocity you’ll never know right into the small of Taehyung’s face, of the half burned down gallery that now sits in your city, of X’s flat eyes staring into you. It’s a world you don’t understand, that you don’t belong in, a world that has grasped onto you and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t seem to shake off yourself. You feel fear, a rendering of fear so awful and deep-settled that you can’t shake it away. 

The sound of Taehyung shifting in place has you breaking out of your reverie.

Taehyung sighs. He reaches up and then stops, he is unable to run his fingers through his shaggy fringe. He stares at the thick, alabaster plaster wrapped around his hand.

“I just...” His voice is raspy, he swallows hard. “Do you love him?”

You gaze at Taehyung and you can see it etched right there in the slightest quiver of his lips. All of the ways a soul can hurt, scatterd there like kisses or bruises. 

Taehyung is composed of light and clarity. Hoseok is the utter opposite - he is the tiniest of moans that escapes your lips when he presses his mouth to the shell of your ear, he is a heady and wickedly uncontrollable tempo, he is a dark place where you can unravel new threads, pieces of you that you had alwys been too afraid to confront in the past. 

While everyone else is safety, Hoseok is freedom.

Taehyung smiles at you. Barely - the slightest twinge of his lips, a crease of his eyes. You are sure it hurts, that reassuring smile painted on a face as sore and bruised as his. But he smiles anyway, because he is Taehyung. And for a moment your heart aches, because it occurs to you how easy it would be to love somebody as safe and sweet as Kim Taehyung.

“Yes.” You keep your eyes steady on Taehyung. You feel your heart constrict, because is it a cop out, to rattle out the words ‘you can’t choose who you love?’ if you could choose to love Hoseok, would you? You think about him, Hoseok and his dark, desperate eyes when you had turned away from him just hours ago. If you could choose who you love, would you still choose him?

Your chest is tight, and you think to yourself that if someone could crack open your body, they would likely find a kingsnake coiled in between your ribs, its body wrapped firmly around your heart.

"Yes,” You murmur. “I love him.”

You glance up to see Taehyung’s reaction. He looks up, stares at you. His face is carefully passive, his eyes searching yours for a split second before he speaks.

“Does he love you?”

It’s a question that catches you offguard. You stay still for a moment, your mouth closes and opens. 

“I… I don’t know,” You answer honestly. A corner of your heart peels backwards, sings out silently that he does, I hope he does. 

“Do you trust him?”

Taehyung keeps his eyes on yours and you nod. 

“I do.” Your voice breaks off into a small, sad laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust myself, though.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak immediately, the beep of his monitor feels the space.

“Trust your instincts,” He says finally. You think to yourself that you can’t, that you can’t trust yourself, your heart, even your mind. 

“I’m scared to.” The words come out as the barest of whispers as tears prick your eyes. Taehyung leans forward and his bandaged hand brushes against your wrist. 

“Don’t be scared of trusting yourself.” He says softly. “I know a lot of people in my position wouldn’t tell you this. Usually, when a guy loves a girl, the last thing they want is to see her with somebody else.” His eyes flicker, he glances at you and you understand what he’s trying to tell you. His eyes search yours for a split second, looking for something, before his face breaks into a small, sad smile.

“Look… if there’s something there, a spark, a feeling, a flame… don’t throw it away because of fear. The only person who truly knows your heart is you. The only person who truly owns your heart is you. So… trust yourself, okay?” 

Tears drip down your cheeks. You nod, your bottom lip wobbles, you tell yourself not to cry but the tears only drip faster and fatter down your cheeks.

“Okay.”

Your voice is strained and thick with tears, and you glance up at Taehyung. His eyes are wet too, and you stand up, leaning forward to wrap your arms around your friend.

Taehyung’s hair brushes your cheek and you can tell he’s crying from the wet tears that drip onto your shoulder. You can feel it when you are standing this close to him, how much pain he’s holding inside, how much fear and loss. 

You are full of blame, guilt and confusion, but you stay close to Tae, holding him in a hug. Telling him, in a way that only you can with somebody you’ve known as long as you’ve known Kim Taehyung, that you’re sorry. 

You pull away and Taehyung’s tears have subsided, as have your own.

“I just... This s a whole other league, and I… just be careful. Of them. Of all of it. Be careful. You know that, right?“ 

You don’t miss the worry that infuses Taehyung’s tone. You reach out and hold his hand. The plaster is rough under your palm and you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“I know.”

Once you are outside of the hospital, you cradle your phone in your hands.

Logically, you know that the smart thing to do is to put your phone back in your pocket and to go home. The right thing to do on paper is to write off Hoseok as just a fleeting mistake, to turn away from him for good.

But you can’t. You don’t want to. 

You think about Taehyung’s words, about the spark, and the flame, and you think about Jung Hoseok. You don’t know what is it about him, but you don’t want to let go of it. You don’t want to let go of him. And it is that thought that you have in mind as you press dial and lift the phone to your ear.  

The phone rings out and you feel your mouth go slack with nerves.

“Hey.” Hoseok’s voice is cautious as he answers, you swallow.

“Can I see you?”

There’s a silence across the line and then Hoseok clears his throat.

“Uh… okay. I’m at my place, do you want to come over? Or I can meet you-” 

“Your place is fine. Can you text me the address?”

You hear Hoseok swallow, mumble out a soft “Sure”. You tell him you’ll see him soon, as you hang up and hail a taxi, wondering if the decision you’re making is the right one. 

The drive isn’t long, you are wrapped up in your thoughts about Hoseok and the gravity of the situation. You pull up to Hoseok’s house, and see him sitting on his front step. He’s dressed casually, a black tee and black jeans, and he stands up when you approach.

“Why are you here?” 

His question is careful and you stop in front of him. 

“You said you don’t lose me.” You say quietly, and Hoseok nods. “I don’t want to lose you either. I just… feel scared when I think about what exactly I’m losing. Is it the real you, or the you I want you to be?”

Hoseok stares at you and then glances away, his eyes downcast.

“The real me isn’t great.” He says in a short voice. “But with you I was… I was always the real me. If that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of you just stare at one another and Hoseok sighs. 

“Is your friend okay?”

“He’s not going to say anything to the police if that’s what-”

“Hey. I wasn’t going to ask that. I was asking because I actually want to know.”

Hoseok has one eyebrow raised and you falter.

“You actually care about him?”

You can’t help but sound bitter.

“I care about you, so, yeah. I guess I do care about him.” 

Hoseok’s words has your resolve crumpling, and the composed expression slips from Hoseok’s face as he steps forward.

“Hey, I…” Hoseok bites his lip. “Fuck, I’m the worst with this kind of thing. I…” His voice raises with each word and then he pulls you into his arms in an uncertain hug. You inhale him, feel his arms encircle you, crying into the crook of his shoulder. Hoseok just runs a hand along the centre of your back in circles, until finally, the tears subside.

You pull away from him and Hoseok peers down at you. “You look exhausted.” Hoseok says brusquely, “Have you slept? Showered?” 

You shake your head, and Hoseok nods. “Look. Come in, do all of that stuff, and then we can talk about whatever… okay?” 

“Okay.”

Hoseok whirls around and walks up the stairs to his house, and you follow.

“Bathroom’s down that way, kitchen’s through the hall if you want something to eat. Alright?” Hoseok looks uncertain for a moment and you nod, heading to the bathroom.

You close the door behind you and stare at your reflection, feeling your frayed nerves start to settle. You turn the tap on for the bathtub, letting the small bathroom fill up with steam, your thoughts slowing and your breathing evening out as you pull off your clothes and turn off the tap, lowering yourself into the tub. The water is hot, soothing, and it pulls away at the tension gathered inside of your chest. 

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice calls out from the hallway, and you glance at the closed door. 

“Can you come in for a second?” You call out, and the door opens. You hug your legs to your chest, covering yourself as Hoseok walks in. 

“What did you think when I walked up to you the first time we met?”

“Honest answer?”

You nod. Hoseok tilts his head to one side, staring at you before he lets out a sigh.

“I thought you were trying really hard to prove something to yourself.” He murmurs. “I thought you were hot too.” He adds, smiling faintly for a second. 

“But you didn’t care about me then, right? At the start?”

Hoseok bites his lip. You rush to fill in the spaces.

“Honest answer again, please.”

Hoseok gazes at you and nods slowly. “At the start, yeah. I didn’t.” 

“So what changed from then to now? What makes how you felt about me then, different to how you felt about me now?”

Hoseok leans against the bathroom wall, swallows. “I don’t really know what it is.” He says eventually. “But the more I got to know you, the more things changed. I like how being with you makes me feel. I care about you and I want you to be safe and happy. I miss you when you’re not with me. I don’t want to just fuck you, I… dunno, wanna spend time with you.” 

You don’t answer, staring at Hoseok. 

“I’m scared.” You whisper. You don’t explain what you are scared of. You don’t put into words that you’re scared of loving him, that you’re scared of trusting him, of being vulnerable. That even though you’re scared, you still want him.

“I’m scared too.” Hoseok responds. “Of a lot of things, actually. But I feel less scared when I’m with you.”

His voice breaks and he shakes his head. “Sorry, that was cheesy as fuck.” He mutters, but a smile slips across his face.

The honesty in his words takes you by surprise and you hug your knees to your chest. He tilts his head back, and you stare at him and try to remember how to breathe. Because like this, when he’s standing in front of you, eyes creased in the corners, a smile soaked in an effortless, easy kind of happiness, arms folded and those clavicles peeking out from the neck of his black tee… you haven’t taken a breath, you can’t take a breath.

“I…” Your voice speaks of its own accord, his eyes hone in on yours and you let out a shaky mouthful of air, the words tumble out before you can quite stop them, “Join me.”

Hoseok pauses and his eyes flicker over to the tub that you are perched in. You have slept with him what feels like countless of times, you have the imprint of Hoseok’s bare body stamped in your mind, but there is something about this moment right now that has the breath seeping out of you and a tremble deep in your bones. 

Hoseok doesn’t speak, he just clears his voice. 

“Really?”

You nod, draw your knees in to your chest. Hoseok gazes at you for a prolonged moment, and then reaches behind his body, his fingers grasping at the back of his tee to pull it off of his head in one clean motion. 

You see it- the flex of his torso, his taut, lean stomach, the dip of his collarbones and his fingers as they tug off his black jeans. You’ve seen it, you know it, but still your heart hammers hard and fast in your chest.

Hoseok pulls off his pants, revealing his thighs, strong and muscled. His hips, they twist as he throws his clothes carelessly in the corner of the bathroom, he steps towards the bathtub and steps in until he is seated opposite you.

You immediately close the space, inch closer to him until your knees are touching, and he lets out a soft sigh. You watch as he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, the water keeps his hair slicked back and off his forehead.

He cocks his head down at you. 

“You’re an idiot.” He murmurs, but there is no malice in his words. Instead, he sounds oddly breathless, his voice so husky and soft that you can only just make out the words. 

“I’m an idiot?” You repeat, your features wrinkling into a delicately affronted expression. 

Hoseok nods, his face is a mixture of emotions that you place for split seconds, like rolling waves, one replacing the other – intensity, vulnerability, tenderness, affection. 

He cards his fingers through his hair, shakes his fringe out of his eyes, the snake on his wrist disappears under the water’s surface. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat, a tremble working its way up your thighs and locking tight around your stomach like a band. He hovers in front of you, oozing a dark and dangerous charisma. Your eyes linger over his shoulders, the curve of his collarbones, his taut stomach.

Neither of you speak. You just stare at one another. Here, seated opposite one other in an old, cracked bathtub, it feels as if time is still. 

He reaches out and presses his palms gently, carefully, around your face. His fingers skim over your jaw, until he is holding you in his hands and his eyes are searching yours. He is looking for protest that you don’t give, before he finally leans in.

Hoseok kisses you slowly. It’s something you aren’t used to with him – you are accustomed to hurried, hungered kisses. This is slow, languid almost- his lips careful and a bit clumsy against yours, his palms still cupping your face. Right there into the curve of your lips he lets out a sigh and his body relaxes. 

At the sound of it- the throaty sigh of release deep from within his belly, you lean in closer, chasing into the feel of his lips. Hoseok responds, his hands sliding from your cheeks to rake into your hair. 

It occurs to you in a fleeting thought just how well he can read you now, how your body responds almost instinctively to his. 

The water splashes quietly against the side of the tub as his hands comb through your hair down to the centre of your back. He tugs you closer to him so that your body folds on top of his, he stretches his legs out along the expanse of the tub.

His skin glides against yours underneath the water, you begin to feel a slow knock between your legs as his hands massage intently against the small of your back. You let out a tiny groan and pull away for a moment to glance at him – Hoseok, his hair wet and slicked off of his face, droplets of water on his skin. 

His hands are still tight against the slip of your waist, he kneads his fingers harder into the curve right above your ass and you let out a tiny, stuttered moan. Your face is only inches away from Hoseok’s and he keeps his eyes locked on yours, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Do you want me?”

It’s a simple question, his voice low and tilting, but for once there is no teasing note at the end of his words, the smirk gone from his lips. Your breath shudders out, you can feel your lust knocking between your legs as you stare into his dark eyes. His face is utterly serious, his eyes dark with desire and intensity.

“Yes,” You breathe out, and Hoseok’s eyes flicker, his tongue licks over his lips.

“Yes,” You repeat, watching as a muscle in his jaw twitches. He lets out a tiny groan and captures your lips in another kiss. 

You kiss him back hungrily, letting out moans in between kisses as Hoseok pulls your body even closer to his, growls against your lips as his hands curve around to cup your ass.

Hoseok breaks away from your mouth, he doesn’t stop, his mouth trailing down and stamping hot kisses along the curve of your jaw, down the slope of your neck. You are trembling, the thud between your legs dangerous and familiar as you adjust your hips. 

Letting out a soft whine, you rock your hips, feeling the smooth friction of his thigh against your cunt. 

A loud moan spills out of your mouth at the feeling of contact against your sensitive core, at the barest thread of pleasure and relief it offers. You grind against him harder, it only makes the ache worsen, and Hoseok lets out a growl right into the base of your ear.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” He says in a low voice. “Hmm? Rubbing that pretty cunt all over me?” 

You breathe in sharp and quick at the sound of his voice, raspy in your ear, the grip of his fingers on your ass. He smirks when he hears the ragged whine that escapes your lips as you swallow hard.

He reaches between your bodies and his hand slides over your inner thigh. You let out a begging sound, the ache growing more intense between your legs.

“I want you, Hoseok,” You choke out and Hoseok lets out a low hum, pressing his body closer to yours. 

The water laps at the sides of the tub as he nears closer to you, his mouth inches from yours, his palm still flat on the inside of your thigh. 

The sides of his knuckles graze at your sensitive core and your breath pitches in, lust pooling in your body. You tilt your hips upwards, desperate to feel more of his touch against you. 

Hoseok’s dark eyes stare into yours, his hair wet, drops of water slowly sliding down his face. Your heart is hammering your chest, your thighs tensed, your core aching and throbbing for him. Hoseok leans in and presses his lips to yours carefully, as his fingers inch closer. 

The tip of his pinky carefully caresses over your slit and you fall apart into his kiss.

“Sit up.” 

He murmurs it into your lips and you hesitate, pausing before he says it again, more forcefully.

“Sit up would you?”

“W-why?” 

“Just… just sit on the edge of the tub. That end, princess.” His voice is impatient, but softens as he uses the nickname. You push yourself off of him reluctantly and stand, sitting down on the edge of the tub with your back against the wall.

As your back touches the cold tile, Hoseok heads towards you. 

His hands brush over your ankles in the water, his palms smoothing over your calves. Your breath rushes in as he slowly moves up your legs, until his palms are canvassing your inner thighs, his fingertips grazing carefully over your pussy.

Your back is stiff, desperately arched, as Hoseok glides his hands back down your legs. It feels as if your entire body is on edge, wanting him to touch you, the gnawing ache between your legs wicked and intense. 

His fingers journey up over your inner calves, your thighs, resting by your knees before he pushes. 

You glance down, taking in the visual of your legs spread, Hoseok between your thighs.

You swallow hard, a new punch of lust searing through your body.

“H-Hoseok,” You stammer out his name and Hoseok gazes right at you, his lips quirked into that same slow smirk, his eyes intent on yours. 

“Yes?” He murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips teasingly to your knee. 

“I…” Your voice thins as he inches forward, presses his lips against the soft skin of your hip. You tremble as Hoseok places his hands on the inside of both of your thighs, spreading your legs apart wider.

You can’t think of words,  your thoughts fading out into an incorrigible mess of emotions as Hoseok leans in, his words come out softly against your spread cunt.

“Is there something you’re trying to say?” He gazes up at you from between your legs. 

Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, the knock between your legs intense and all consuming. Hoseok gazes right at you, dark eyes tracked on your face, his mouth only centimetres away from your pussy. Fuck. 

You press your head against the back of the wall, clench your thighs, let out a shaky breath. The word breezes out between your lips.

“Please…”

Hoseok lets out a moan and glances down, staring at your core. 

“God,” He mutters softly, “I love hearing you beg.” He swallows before he leans in even closer.

His tongue wetly traces up your slit. The sensation of his tongue against you has you twitching your hips, your hands grip the edge of the porcelain tub. Hoseok’s tongue, tasting all up of your wetness, ends by your clit, you cry out as he hums, pulling himself away.

“Feel good?”

His voice barely registers as his tongue finds your pussy yet again. He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit, tracing down your inner thigh. His tongue is coaxing, flicking slow patterns around your clit. You throb from how good it feels, his mouth on you, Hoseok between your legs letting out soft moans, his shoulders flexing as he reaches up and slides his finger into your walls.

You feel your belly start to coil tightly as Hoseok pushes the entirety of his finger slick into you. His tongue continues to work needy circles around your pussy as he pushes his finger in and out of you. 

The rhythm is slow at first, teasing, the rock of his finger fucking you out and the lapping of his tongue against your folds. The sensation of him pushing his finger inside of you has you gasping, your legs stiffening, while the softness of his tongue has your deep-seated urgency unravelling at the seams.

You tip your head back hard against the wall as Hoseok slips another finger inside of you. His thumb darts in to massage teasingly around your clit, his touch is hard and punishing, almost making you cry at the sensitivity before his tongue is there to gloss over the ache. 

“I’m going to cum,” You pant out, turning your head to the side so that your cheek is pressed flat against the cool ceramic tile of the bathroom wall.

Hoseok doesn’t stop, he rubs his thumb against your clit harder, works his tongue deeper into you.

The back and forth has your back stiffening desperately, the throb causing your mouth to fall open as the high rides over your body, breaking in euphoric waves as you moan out his name.

“Fuck!” Your voice shakes as Hoseok tilts his head back, his eyes on yours as he sits up, still between your legs. 

You let out a strangled, wanton moan, your orgasm washing over your skin as Hoseok chases into you, his lips close to yours when he whispers, “You look so hot when you cum…” He lets out a possessive moan as he kisses you, deep and long before he groans out, “I want to fuck you.”

His words make you moan. Your eyes flutter open as you gaze at him. The glow of your orgasm, and him, hair wet, mouth glossy with your wetness, the lust hungry in his eyes, has something snapping inside of you.

“Fuck me,” You breathe out, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Hoseok’s hands grip around your thighs at your words as he tugs you down until you are back in the tub, the water splashing as he kisses you deep and rough, his tongue domineering as his hands squeeze your hips so hard that you can’t help but gasp breathlessly into the kiss. 

He breaks away and kisses down your jaw hard, peppering his mouth against your neck and against your pulsepoint. You whine as his lips clamp down at your neck, sucking at the skin there before he jerks his head up, his lips by your ear.

“Turn around.” His demand is spoken lowly and you feel a shaky spin of lust and excitement grip you as you turn around, no longer facing him. 

Hoseok immediately crooks his body behind yours, his hands roaming your front, grabbing at your breasts and squeezing hard. His fingers find your nipple and he skims over your hard nipple with his fingertips, teasing out a choked moan for you as he pinches down, his lips at your ear again. 

“You missed me fucking you like this?”

He reaches up between your breasts, one hand on your neck, the other shifting to your left breast, stroking your nipple as you nod desperately, breathing out a shaky, fevered yes.

He pulls away, his palm is on your back and you move, shifting until you are bent forward. The tile is hard against your knees and Hoseok lets out a growl, moving so that he is directly behind you. 

You feel as if you are unraveling, your body tensed and desperate for him to fuck you. The tip of his cock is right at your slit, and you shake.

“Please,” You moan out, your lean forward, propping your ass up higher in the air, wanting, needing him to fuck you. 

“Fuck, I love hearing you beg for it,” Hoseok murmurs in a throaty voice and the words spill out desperate and heavy as you arch your back even more.

“Please fuck me, God, I’ll do anything, please-”

He pushes himself inside of you mid-sentence and you break off into a loud moan, feeling his cock stretch you out, his hips snapping into you hard and fast.

You can hear him groaning in your ear at the feeling of your walls around him, and the fullness of him inside of you as you mewling out in pleasure.

Hoseok doesn’t give you time to fully settle into the feeling of his cock as he slams his hips against yours, snapping his hips upward so that you feel all of him inside of you, you whine at the pain of it, the satisfying hum of pleasure as he groans, right into the shell of your ear. 

“You feel so fucking good, God.” He thrusts harder, deeper, and you feel your breath hitch in.

“And you tasted so fucking good.” His voice is rough, hoarse as he keeps fucking into you. He thrusts hard, making your body sway, and the sensation of it has your walls clenching. The waves of pleasure are still faintly ebbing through your body from your earlier orgasm, but the pleasure builds in a new, duller, deeper anticipation at each punishing snap of his hips.

“Hoseok, harder,” You moan out his name, each heavy breath seems louder in the bathroom, the water splashes as he stutters out a moan, thrusting inside of you even deeper.

It feels so good, him crooked around your body, fucking you so hard and so deep that it feels like all you can think about is him. You pant out his name, your voice husky and breathless from the intensity of his cock slamming into you so deep and filling you whole.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make-”

“Cum inside of me, please.” Your breath rushes over his, the feeling tightening in your stomach as Hoseok lets out a groan at your words. He leans forward, tilts his hips and fucks into you harder, ruthlessly, before his body staggers forward as he cums inside of you.

You feel a wave of satisfaction wash over you as Hoseok’s body shakes from the force of his orgasm, his thrusts slowing. 

It feels as if the space between the two of you is electric, everything is magnified – the water against your skin, the sounds of Hoseok’s ragged pants, the soft, pleased hum that is fighting it’s way from the back of your throat. 

You feel light, like you’re floating, as Hoseok’s body starts forward, his muscles relaxing as he moans into your hair.

“Fuck,” He mutters, he presses his lips against the back of your head. “Wow. I thought I was gonna black out for a second there.”

He pushes himself backwards and you turn until you’re sitting and facing him. Hoseok has a blissed out, relaxed smile on his face as he leans forward.

“Your knees,” He tuts, the porcelain of the tub has left your kneecaps pink and his fingers brush over them in a surprisingly tender gesture. 

You both sit like that for a moment, facing one another, your ragged breathing slowing and evening out. You feel thoroughly fucked out and so satisfied that it crackles over your skin. 

Hoseok is the first to move, he stirs, pushing off of the tub until he is standing. He reaches above his head and stretches, before he steps out of the tub.

“C’mere,” He glances over at you and outstretches a hand. 

You gaze at him, the softness that has settled properly into his face. You feel it bubbling up in your throat, thumping through your veins. You gaze at Hoseok’s outstretched hand, at the snake’s tail that curls around his wrist, and you think about everything that you have tried so hard to fight, to run away from.

You grasp Hoseok’s hand and stand up.

“Remember the time you tried to run away from my place by escaping through the bathroom?” You ask suddenly as you step out of the tub. Hoseok just lets out a wry laugh in response, as you step over until you are facing him. 

“Shh,” He mumbles, reaching up and pulling you in until you are in his arms. A tiny gasp escapes your lips and Hoseok leans in closer, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Do I really have that effect on you?” He asks, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he mimics your gasp. He dips his head closer, and you feel the jackhammer drum beat of your heart from being so close to him, from the intensity of his gaze.

“No,” You lie, and Hoseok’s face opens into a proper smile, as bright and golden and warm as the sun.

“Uh huh,” He responds in a dry tone, as he opens the cabinet behind your head. He pulls out a fluffy white towel and wraps it tightly around your shoulders. 

He runs a hand through his wet hair as he stands in front of you, his eyes crinkling in the corner as his smile fades. 

He stares at you, his face serious, his eyes locked on yours like he is memorizing every single inch of your face, travelling it like a map. 

He reaches forward, his hands loop around the small of your back as he pulls you into his arms.

His lips find yours with that same rushed assurance that you’ve come to recognize as Hoseok’s signature. He rushes into it, his mouth chasing into yours hungrily, and you let out an involuntary sigh into his lips. His palms press flat against the curve of your waist, you can feel the heat of his body, the towel still wrapped tightly around your body.

You reach up and cup his face with one palm. You slow the kiss down, right down, until you are kissing him at a pace that is languid and slow. You feel your heart beat louder and faster in your chest, relinquishing in it – the feel of his strong body holding onto you, his lips, the way he matches your rhythm.

His hands flutter up to gently, carefully cup your face in his hands. The kiss deepens, enough to have you sighing and feeling as if your entire world is spinning. 

You aren’t thinking anything, you aren’t feeling anything, all you are aware of his him, the boy kissing you sweetly and tenderly, drops of water form his hand sliding down your shoulders, the soft towel wrapped around your skin.

Finally, Hoseok steps away, but he keeps his hands on your cheeks. He gazes down at you, and you feel it - a flutter in your chest that is more akin to a knock than a flutter, a swoon so deep and intense that you can feel it not only weakening your knees, but your shoulders, every muscle in your body. 

You expect Hoseok to break away, to run, because that’s what he always has done in the past. Your lips part but Hoseok doesn’t move away this time, instead, he stays close. You can hear it, his breathing, heavy, before he speaks.

“I think I’m…” He swallows, fingers relaxing. “…I....” His voice trails off uncertainly and you lean into him closer, press your lips against his in the softest, lightest of kisses. 

Hoseok makes a small sound right at the back of his throat and when you pull away, he keeps you close, his face inches from yours.

“I’ll leave the Kingsnakes.” 

For a moment, you don’t speak. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth but Hoseok hurries to speak.

“I… I’ve been thinking about it for a while and it’s time to move on. I don’t want that to be my life anymore.”

You breathe in, lean back on your heels. Hoseok’s face is serious, more serious than you’ve seen it before. You fight to keep your face calm, composed. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok responds softly. “I’m sure. I want to be with you.”

Something leaps vibrant and bold in your chest, a glimmer of hope. Hoseok is still staring at you intently, a flash of worry crosses over his face.

“That’s um, that’s not the only reason by the way, there’s a lot of reasons why I want to leave. Just so you know.”

It feels like there is an egg being cracked in your chest, the golden yolk sliding down your belly and seeping into your bones.

“There’s a lot of reasons?”

“Not a lot but a few reasons, yeah.”

“And I’m one of the reasons?”

You are pushing it now, just because you want to hear it one more time, make sure you weren’t imagining it, imagining this-

“Yeah, maybe.”

You smile. Purse your lips teasingly. Step closer, tilting your head up to his.

“Maybe?”

Hoseok’s eyes soften, he softens, his shoulders sink and he reaches up so his fingers grasp the towel draped around your shoulders.

“Uh-huh.”

A burst of butterflies right there in your ribcage where your heart is.  

“You’re one of my reasons too.” You whisper. Your lips curve into a smile and Hoseok lets out a tiny sigh, like he’d been holding his breath.

“Cool,” He mumbles, and feel your heart rate start to pick up. You are so close to him that you could lean forward and your lips would brush against his. Words and sentences race through your mind, things that you want to say to him, things you have been holding in. 

“Hoseok, I-”

A loud, sharp ring slices through your words. Involuntarily you start a little, jolted out of your stream of thought. 

Hoseok glances over at the corner of his bathroom, at his jeans which are crumpled in a small pile.

“One sec.” He murmurs, he steps away from you and picks up his phone. The ring seems even louder in the echo of the bathroom, and you watch as Hoseok glances at the screen. His face crumples a touch, the barest amount before he covers over it neatly. 

“I’ve gotta take this.” He murmurs, before he opens the door and is out.

You wrap the towel tighter around your shoulders as you stand in the bathroom and wait. Just when you are about to walk outside, see if he’s okay, the door opens again and Hoseok is standing there. He has a pair of jeans on and a black sweater, his hair damp. You swallow, standing up.

“Is everything okay?”

“I…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head, a disoriented look on his face before his features frost over. The softness from before has dissipated.

“I’ve…” He clears his throat. “I’ve gotta go. Z wants to see me.”

“Z?” You repeat, Hoseok just nods tersely.

“What does he want?”

“I owe him a favour from a long time ago.” Hoseok stares at his hands. “He’s calling in the favour now, apparently.”

“Will-will you be okay?”

Hoseok nods briskly, he seems distracted as he steps towards you.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, no one knows Z better than me. I’ll just go help him and then when that’s done, I’ll tell him that I’m out of the Kingsnakes.” 

The worry doesn’t ease and he steps towards you, his voice lowering. “I promise it’ll be okay. Stay here, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

He sweeps you up and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth in an absentminded kiss. 

“See you soon.” He murmurs into your hair before he turns and strides away, leaving you alone in his bathroom. 

You shiver and draw the towel around you closer, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach.

Hoseok’s house is silent after he leaves. What felt so cosy before, now feels empty.

You stay up for three hours, perched on his old tattered couch, trying to distract yourself. When the clock strikes two AM, you pull yourself upwards and go to Hoseok’s bedroom. It smells like him – a bed with messy, unmade sheets, sneakers with the laces tangled on the ground. There, in the bin, are several unlit cigarettes. You feel a funny ache in your chest as you crawl into his bed, under the sheets, and will yourself to fall asleep.

You tell yourself to sleep and that when you wake up, Hoseok will be there beside you. But as time passes, you can’t fall asleep, and Hoseok doesn’t return.

Sleep feels impossible tonight.

amynote: ahhh it’s nearly the end...! thank you for reading ♡

#hoseok smut #hoseok angst #bts smut #bts angst #hoseok gang au #bts gang au

[maximuswolf]

The Serpent Decoded via /r/atheism

The Serpent Decoded

The serpent has a goal of looking like something and then it lies to itself that looking like something is the path to being something.

Genesis is a medley of poetic creative that conveys timeless truths to help the reader through life. The serpent is a warning about toxic human beings. He uses a set up of God's words as a poetic macrocosm for logical truth. So God tells Adam and Eve to not eat the fruit in the middle. Moses doesn't use over exposition as literary tool so it is left up to the individual reader to understand that all the fruit is the same.

The whole point of that beginning exchange is to poetically explain the power of God as all knowing and giving Eve all the tools to avoid a mistake.

It's also a clever way to point out that the serpent is not observed by God, which shows how advanced the Hebrews were. Think about it. The serpent is nothing because it is not observed by God, that's the observer effect.

Together, those things give a pivotal advanced life lesson that God isn't a diaper changer here to baby you. Think about it. God doesn't directly say to look out for the low life in your form that can talk to you that's scrounging around paradise. That wasn't needed to be said when all the fruit is the same and it's loving information to say to avoid the fruit in the middle. Eve was supposed to figure it out on her own. That to set the tone to the timeless saying, 'God helps those who help themselves' because you are supposed to be conscious so you can independently understand with accuracy. You're supposed to understand a serpent when you meet one.

They don't use words to exchange information for positive benefit at a level above itself. It only talks as a way to scheme to get something (from making you think that it's more advanced than it is to getting something from you like a gift or a date or an opportunity).

So Eve meets the serpent in it's latest scheme, trying to get understanding. The background is it has deluded itself that eating the fruit would magically make it understand. Now idiots add in illogical information that's not in the text by designating the fruit as magic because they are the type that Moses is lampooning with the serpent. What Moses was going for is that the serpent has a lifetime inability to understand and have tried many things and it never helped it understand so now it is fixated on the fruit but it never ate it before. The story is that simple but many toxic individuals like the serpent tries to confuse you about it.

So with a focus on the literary purpose and the situational set up it is easy to see how much work it took for Eve to get herself damned. Logic is the key, if something doesn't make common sense with sound logic then you are going out your way to cause your self trouble. So the serpent asks her what God told her about the fruit to slyly phish for information. So Eve's first mistake was not noticing that phishing attempt but that's a little bit of an advanced level of enlightenment.

The most important thing in life is being able to discern the motive of others. So Eve was supposed to understand that the serpent had a motivation of needing her to eat the fruit first and that was perfectly crafted poetry from Moses to display how mindless toxic human beings are by following what others do to fit in. Moses is conveying that the desperation of the serpent made it rise above it's codependent nature to trick Eve in to doing it first so it can follow along.

So basically the serpent turns Eve in to a crash dummy. She went out the way to allow it because God directly told her what the deal was. That is perfect poetry of how we go out the way to make mistakes and have no true excuses.

The rest of the story is the innovative literary tool of a connected medley of poetic universal truths. The way the serpent isn't punished is the most beautiful poetry because it is showcasing how the serpent was not punished. Get it. It was always helpless to the point of needing to use others like a baby crawling. It doesn't have legs because it stands for nothing because it is nothing. It never had arms to reach for it's own fruit. Moses also poetically tied the physical acts of child birth to Eve being so sympathetic to the listen to the helpless and desperate serpent that she went out the way for it and troubled herself.

Moses then tied Adam listening to her to a man being a laborer. That's one of the kinks in revealing that a man wrote it from their perspective because we all know that's not absolutely true in all ways because there have been early societies where women provided based on the connection to having children to take care of. A similar little hiccup shows up later in Genesis when Moses crafted a poetic scenario where angels in disguise visit Sodom and to denote evil he crafted a situation where the townsfolks tries to rape the angels. The fact that they tried to rape the angels isn't the wrong that was the focus but to understand how gays are attacked by that is to understand how simple minded toxic animals live with a permanent closed mind stuck in an animal pack system where they have to prey on easy weaknesses of others. They seized on that meaningless literary tool like vultures seizing on dead meat. Again, it's Moses displaying that amazing level of creative enlightenment when he used that situation of rape to set up a picture of true evil as not making sense by having Lot offer his virgin daughters to the stop the rape. Get it? That was the point that evil was shown. That's actually a good metaphor when you dissect it because it defines evil as not making sense. The assumptions by Moses, though, is the imperfections to prove that it was not written by God but is a sign of God because it is a creative masterpiece that shows someone at the height of creative enlightenment. Again, those of us with poetic souls and critical thinking that allows us to have wider perspectives can understand the poetry of being connected to God as being connected to logic.

There's a connection between the deeper and more detailed the truth then the more accurate the result is. Keep in mind that the serpent is incomplete from lacking a connection to God and in an Earthly sense that's a connection to logic. These loud mouthed losers acting like the poetry in the Bible of a hearing the booming voice of God is just them displaying that they're a crafty animal not made by the lord like the serpent.

The only personality it has is scheming it's something it's not to you and lying to itself to quiet the insecurity caused by the advanced subconscious logic of the brain. The need to scheme is just animal flight coming through in the skillset the DNA code allows for the human species. So the serpent is tasked with never being enough and can only result to scheming to trick others who may be viewing them that they are enough. That creates a handicap where their actions never go beyond eye level so that lack of forward thinking is a sign of not being able to critically think and incorporate control of emotions with logical benefits of desires and the effect it has on others because that's too complicated for simple animals like them

Look at the crafty animal not made by the lord and apply the motive, 'how can I scheme to get me a break' and you can see that it applies to everything they do.....seriously. Try it....the funny thing is whatever it is will never be smart enough to give them a break unless you're on the stupidity level of Eve and is listening to a scheming low life and ignoring what God told you directly.....you have to be so stupid that you ignore firm logic to listen to the scheming low life trying to talk to you.

They are so stupid that they can lie to themselves and that goes to an absolute level. Remember, the formula for lying to yourself is that you get a selfish benefit from it and it doesn't make sound logical sense to the point that it even makes you feel uneasy that makes you not even want to think to the point that you would rather risk hurting yourself with an avoidable mistake than helping yourself by catching a glaring hole you overlooked. If something has the belief that if they look like something they will be something then that means that they have no critical thinking skills. That means they are toxic and will even try to scheme on how being right is bad or how the truth can be bad because someone is crazy or how being unselfish means you're gullible. All those things mean that is a toxic individual who is capable of doing any level of negativity when under pressure.

The Bible is poetic universal truths. 'Serpents' lie to themselves that not being able to understand poetry doesn't mean that they are less than a person....if someone is a visual learner then that's showing they have no critical thinking skills. They're just looking what others do and mimicking like a parrot does with sounds. That's the basis of 'monkey see/monkey do to make monkey feel good'. The fact that they will then scheme to get a break by not admitting that they don't understand is what throws many off.

So the serpent is inspired by Moses' views on evil human beings through living in Egypt. They felt God was a selfish based word for their feelings and he leaves that for the person reading it to see by the serpent's use of the word.

Everyone looking for a big boat or talking about Adam and Eve as historic figures weren't the target audience of Genesis. Those types that don't have active and creative brains that understand poetry are like the serpent and capable of drowning in their thoughts because they're not swift enough to ride the winds of change.

Submitted January 31, 2021 at 04:33PM by KanyeWestisJesus via reddit https://ift.tt/39wmzHz