#Now I have to make a BRAND NEW DOC I hate this

[kagedbird]

So uh

I didn't know this was a thing-

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.” 

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought. 

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it. 

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky. 

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over. 

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.” 

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like. 

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids? 

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!” 

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery. 

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.” 

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses. 

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing. 

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced. 

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received. 

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.” 

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed. 

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing? 

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips. 

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons. 

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests. 

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth. 

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).  

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks. 

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’. 

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air. 

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes. 

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned. 

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.” 

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?” 

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!” 

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.” 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent. 

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that. 

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still. 

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once. 

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.” 

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat. 

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.”  _____________________________

You thought about quitting. 

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck. 

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine. 

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing. 

“Hey, titty-shirt!” 

The loveliness was ruined. 

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words. 

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction.��

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!” 

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring). 

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.” 

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.” 

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house. 

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.” 

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.” 

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?” 

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers. 

“Okay.” 

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered. 

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway. 

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides. 

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks. 

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?” 

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose. 

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive. 

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?” 

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.” 

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs. 

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt. 

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen. 

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita. 

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!” 

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand. 

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-” 

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.” 

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-” 

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.” 

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.” 

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit. 

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him. 

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.” 

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles. 

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.” 

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.” 

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed. 

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.” 

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?” 

“Yeah, evidence.” 

“EVIDENCE?” 

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet. 

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed. 

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines. 

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” 

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic. 

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at. 

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?” 

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled. 

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly. 

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?��� 

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child. 

“Alright, but-” 

“Yes!” 

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good. 

“What happened to Belinda?” 

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.” 

“She has kids?!” 

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins. 

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean. 

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork. 

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight. 

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.” 

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way. 

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?” 

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours. 

“I think you love being treated like a slut.” 

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair. 

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?” 

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider. 

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?” 

“JEONGHAN!” 

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing. 

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious. 

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath. 

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster. 

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips. 

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you. 

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back. 

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again. 

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back. 

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt. 

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them. 

You went to work. 

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing. 

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic. 

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.” 

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little. 

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate. 

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans. 

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows. 

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached. 

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm. 

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.” 

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head. 

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips. 

“I’m tired, you just go.” 

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit. 

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat. 

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants. 

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-” 

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?” 

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-” 

“Well, then give us a ride?!” 

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left. 

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-” 

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!” 

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-” 

You’re not even sure why you lied. 

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!” 

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face. 

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-” 

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child. 

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted. 

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?” 

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-” 

“Why are you crying?” 

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had  tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern. 

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made  you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual. 

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..” 

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up. 

God, you were pathetic. 

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. 

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar. 

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-” 

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him. 

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes. 

There was a significant pause. 

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation. 

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?” 

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush. 

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you. 

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket. 

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling. 

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it. 

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze. 

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great. 

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt. 

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser. 

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his. 

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen. 

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!” 

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing. 

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing. 

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too. 

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-” 

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground. 

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae. 

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other. 

His hand dropped from your lips. 

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless. 

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?” 

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.” 

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in. 

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well. 

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?” 

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?” 

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.” 

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park. 

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway. 

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?” 

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed. 

“You’ll see.” 

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful. 

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis. 

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly. 

“What do you think?” 

Jeonghan was looking at you. 

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.” 

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well. 

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other. 

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.” 

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you. 

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained. 

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back. 

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.” 

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?” 

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second. 

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?” 

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-” 

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you. 

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face. 

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically. 

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky. 

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly. 

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.” 

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.” 

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed. 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” 

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body. 

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily. 

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around. 

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.” 

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance. 

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear. 

“Jeonghan, please touch me-” 

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble. 

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing. 

“Jeonghan, I can’t-” 

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway. 

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it. 

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch. 

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest. 

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder. 

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.” 

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection. 

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off. 

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now. 

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties. 

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this. 

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties. 

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear. 

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.” 

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly. 

“N-ngh, fuck..” 

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.” 

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine. 

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it. 

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-” 

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face. 

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. 

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole. 

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-” 

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming. 

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face. 

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.” 

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.” 

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs. 

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit. 

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin. 

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying. 

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs. 

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples 

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it. 

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly. 

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply. 

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling. 

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.” 

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating. 

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.” 

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows. 

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock. 

It was long and right by your fucking face. 

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.” 

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up. 

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane. 

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin. 

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture. 

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then. 

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?” 

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting. 

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage. 

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.” 

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply. 

Or almost perfect. 

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you. 

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.” 

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue. 

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly. 

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth: 

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

[tgmsunmontue]

Peer reviewed

3k Hangster (one-shot). Mature (to explicit maybe?)

Secretly married Hangster in an academic environment. Outsider POV then Hangster back and forth with a 5+1 feel (“feel” because it’s a 9+1). This was inspired by one of the academics I manage/work with who came into my office and declared “I haven’t spoken to him in three years and I’m not about to start now!” and I just sat there and went… why are you so proud of being apparently incapable of being baseline professional with a colleague?

…            …            …

FIRST TIME

                “Oh my god! Have you heard what’s happening down in the engineering staff offices?”

                “They haven't set fire to the place again have they?”

                “That was one time. But no, two of our new staff have arrived and it sounds like they’ve about to have a brawl in the corridor.”

                “Seriously?”

                “Yeah! Want to go walk past under the premise of getting a coffee?”

                “Definitely.”

                Jane and Sarah stand and watch. Professor Bradshaw and Professor Seresin are standing almost nose-to-nose, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing in anger and any second one of them is just going to push the other, and the other is then going to be justified in taking a swing. Sarah can see it all playing out in her minds’ eye and she wonders exactly what has set them off. She wonders if this would be a new record for HR, for people to get fired before they even officially start. Because physical altercations are definitely a firable offense, she knows because it’s happened before.

                And they’ve put so much work in finding these professors. They had met them both when they came for their interviews, about a week apart. She’d had to shmooze and try to sell the University and location just as much as the job. Their school might not have big student numbers, but their research is world class and both Seresin and Bradshaw bring a lot to the table in terms of research capabilities and student supervision and mentorship. Now if they could just get along with each other.

                Then Professor Seresin says something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, but Professor Bradshaw goes bright red, shoves Professor Seresin and stalks off, so it can’t have been anything good.

                Okay then.

                Maybe they shouldn’t have placed the new guys in offices side-by-side thinking they might get on with one another.

…            …            …

                “Do you feel better for a nap?”

                “Fuck you… but yes. And I’m sorry I lost my temper. I was just tired and –”

                “Hungry and stressed and jetlagged. Yeah babe, I know. Thanks for taking over…”

                “You’re welcome. Although I think everyone assumes we hate each other.”

                “Oh. That’s…”

                “Well, we weren’t going to advertise the fact we’re married.”

                “No. But… to have everyone think we hate each other?”

                “What? It’ll just be like when we started dating… everyone getting sick of our shit and wanting to bang out heads together.”

                “Jake… we were post-docs then. We’re professionals now.”

                “Speak for yourself. I plan on pretending we’re holding a grudge about who got the better office.”

                “Jake, you got the better office.”

                “And you can hold a grudge better than anyone I know. So it works perfectly. Also you’re going to spend more time in the workshop or lab and I spend more time in the front of fucking screen running models so it makes sense that I get the nicer office…”

                “You didn’t raise either of those points when we were fighting earlier…”

                “Well, I knew telling you I wanted to fuck you on my brand new desk would shut you up.”

                “You’re lucky I love you.”

---------------------------

SECOND TIME

                It’s a networking event, mainly aimed at making industry partners aware of what research is currently being undertaken and what potential opportunities there are for collaboration. She’s done her best with the program, to ensure Bradley and Jake can avoid each other. Bradley presented first and Jake is almost last. They’re both on a first name basis with her now after the months of working together, she’s helped them both with different aspects of moving to another country however she notes that they still refer to each other by last names. They’re the only ones to still do that.

                On top of that Bradley seems to be trying to maybe kill Jake with the power of his mind, staring at him with heated intensity like his mere presence is an affront to Bradley somehow. She’s noticed his temper gets worse when he’s tired or his blood sugar dips low and has taken to stocking a bowl of candy on her desk, which Bradley seems to take from every afternoon. Maybe she should go and ensure he’s eaten.

…            …            …

                “You’re so good for me baby… way to make a boring work event far more interesting. Thinking about this inside of you all night while you walked around looking so good in your suit. Fuck…”

---------------------------

THIRD TIME

                It’s meant to be a social activity, just a friendly game of badminton or table tennis. Except apparently Bradley and Jake are competitive at even the most benign of social interactions and are currently trying to kill each other using ping pong balls. Other staff are backing away with either fear or simple self-preservation, not wanting to be caught in the cross-fire of whatever this has turned into. The taunts they’re throwing back and forth are a little too barbed to be considered friendly, but not barbed enough to be nasty. Either way, no one seems to be having much fun.

…            …            …

                “Pretty sure we’re not meant to be using the disabled bathroom for sex.”

                “Not my fucking fault you’re so hot I can’t control myself.”

---------------------------

FORTH TIME

                The annual school strategy meeting happens and they just need to keep Bradley and Jake on opposite sides of the room. Her and Jane have got this down to a fine art now, although the idea of trying to keep the two of them in the same room for an entire workday is stretching even their abilities. Fortunately the program leaders for both Jake and Bradley seem to be happy to assist in keeping them separated but also in expediating the material by arranging for half of it to be discussed at a later point. Considering some of the arguing that has already happened it’s a very good thing they don’t have to compete for funding internally.

…            …            …

                “Okay, definitely a benefit of everyone thinking we can’t stand each other, making meetings shorter.”

                “Don’t you feel a little bad that we’re deceiving them?”

                “Did you not hear what I just said?”

---------------------------

FIFTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw.”

                “Seresin. What can I help you with?”

                The lack of title is definitely deliberate and if there were guns involved the safety would be off, or the hammer would be getting cocked… Instead Jake is looking amused more than anything else, although there’s a slight hue of pink high on his cheeks which bely his potential anger at the disrespect. It’s not often they’re both in the administration office at the same time, and they’re both gritting their teeth and grimacing. She cannot believe that they’re apparently incapable of being more civil to one another.

                “Just found your phone in the break room and thought I’d bring it up to the office. And here you are…”

                “And here I am…”

                Jake is indeed holding a phone out, pinched between his thumb and forefinger like he might catch something from it. Bradley reaches out a hand to take it and like it’s almost slow motion the phone tumbles from Jake’s fingers just as Bradley is about to take it and it hits the floor.

                “Oops. Sorry. Butter fingers,” Jake says, but he’s smirking and even Sarah is annoyed on Bradley’s behalf. That was clearly deliberate. Bradley is bending to retrieve his phone, rolling his eyes and muttering thanks under his breath, which Sarah decides is far more polite than she’d be.

                “Oh, my pleasure.”

…            …            …

                Jake pushes Bradley up against his office door, locking it and grinning like an idiot as he presses kisses along the curve of Bradley’s jaw.

                “God, you’re such an asshole.”

                “Yeah, but I wanted to see you bend over in those jeans again. Damn Bradley…” Jake says, and he runs a hand over Bradley’s ass again, very appreciative of said ass.

                “Workplace harassment.”

                “You like being harassed by me at work.”

                “Yeah, what do you think that says about my mental state?”

                “That you love me?”

---------------------------

SIXTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw won’t be in today. And probably not tomorrow.”

                “Um,” Sarah blinks. “Is he…” Alive? She’s a little scared to ask.

                “He’s got some type of stomach flu, puking and feverish. I said I’d take his classes for him.”

                “That’s… nice of you.”

                “Hmm. I always like it when people owe me favors.”

                Huh. She smiles and nods and decides to send Bradley a message to check in and maybe suggest he doesn’t eat any food that Jake brings him. Just in case.

…            …            …

                “You’re the best.”

                “And you’re adorable.”

                “I’m miserable.”

                “And very adorable with it.”

                “Did you know that Sarah thinks you’re poisoning me?”

                “What? Since when?”

                “She sent me a message saying to be careful about taking anything from you, just in case.”

                Jake rolls his eyes and presses a quick kiss to Bradley’s forehead.

                “If I catch this from you, then you can worry about me poisoning you. But not before then.”

                “Love you too babe.”

---------------------------

SEVENTH TIME

                “I’m really sorry Bradley, it’s just with how late notice it is we can’t find another room anywhere close by. I’ve asked that if another room is made available you’re moved to it immediately.”

                “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind sharing a room. I promise.”

                “What’s wrong?” Jake asks, coming into the office, and he’s looking at Bradley with narrowed eyes and even when Bradley smiles at Jake all he gets in response is a frown and Bradley simply rolls his eyes, like he finds Jake’s action endearing somehow rather than grossly unprofessional.

                “There weren’t any more rooms available, so I’ve had to place you in the same room. Separate beds though!”

                “I’d rather share with someone I know than a complete stranger,” Bradley says.

                “So I have to put up with him farting and snoring in my room?”

                “Excuse you! Like I don’t have to put up with the same from you!”

                “I’m really sorry Jake, it’s just –”

                “It’s fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s not within your control. Bradshaw and I can play nice for a few days I’m sure. Can’t we Bradshaw?”

                “Well, we can certainly try.”

                “That’s the spirit!”

                “We can even share a ride to the airport, seeing as we live in the same apartment building.”

                “Who knows, we might come back best friends.”

                “I think people will just be impressed we both come back alive and don’t kill each other.”

                They walk away in the same direction and Sarah bites a knuckle and looks across at Jane.

                “You know, I think they’re starting to mature. That was almost a civil conversation. They only looked like they wanted to hit each other about half the time…”

…            …            …

                “Yes, hi, we’re here to check in. A room for Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Oh! We’ve actually had a cancellation. There’s another room available. Your assistant was very adamant that if there was a cancellation we moved you to separate rooms.”

                “It’s fine. We’d prefer to share.”

---------------------------

EIGHTH TIME

                “Hi. Can you tell me where to find Professor Seresin’s office?”

                “Aren’t you one of Professor Bradshaw’s students?”

                “Yeah, but he said I’d be best to talk to Professor Seresin, because he knows more.”

                “Really? Hmm. Well, their offices are side by side, so if you’d been looking at the name plates on the doors you would have noticed you had to walk past Professor Seresin’s office to get here.”

                “Oh. Okay then. Thank you.”

                Sarah turns to Jane, eyes wide and disbelieving look on her face.

                “Do you think they’re thawing toward one another?”

                “Who knows? Maybe that conference they both went to forced them to get on?

                Later, when they’re walking back to the office from their lunch break Jake and Bradley are arguing in the corridor and Sarah lets out a sigh and shrugs. Things had been looking so promising.

…            …            …

                “No Bradley, I stand by what I told the student. I do have a better understanding of the measurement and applications for sensors. I build the fucking circuits and run models out my ears before I even reach the build stage.”

                “Yeah, I know you do, but it’s a final year capstone project. Not a Masters or PhD. You’re overthinking it and making it far bigger than it needs to be. You overwhelmed him with your enthusiasm. I wasn’t telling you no, I was just needing you to dial it down.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah. I know. Lucky I love you.”

---------------------------

NINTH TIME

                “Oh, they definitely looked like they’d been pushing each other around.”

                “Seriously? At least they’re smart enough to never do it where there are witnesses. Otherwise it would be an HR nightmare. Do you think there’s maybe something more there though?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well… I got the receipt for the hotel where they stayed, and they ended up staying in the same room. By choice. I know there was an extra room because I phoned up the morning they were meant to be checking in, and there had been a cancellation. But they decided not to use it.”

                “Okay. That is odd.”

                “Plus there was one time I got mail for Jake Seresin-Bradshaw. Do you think they’ve gone and joined forces for some type of research?”

                “More likely gone halves on a subscription of some type. Those things are like, ridiculously expensive. Their research kind of overlaps right? It’s why they knew each other… didn’t they do their undergraduate degrees at the same University?”

…            …            …

                “A love bite Bradley? Really?”

                “Yep. Now you match about half your first-year students.”

                “You’re such an asshole.”

                “Mmm. I do work very hard at it.”

---------------------------

TENTH TIME

                “Jake. Fantastic presentation. Just wondering if I could maybe interest you in a drink?”

                Sarah doesn’t give the person asking much of a chance. Jake is always so very calm and aloof at these types of events, perfectly pleasant and professional for the most part. Except when it comes to Bradley, although it’s been a couple of years now and their banter back-and-forth could almost be classified as friendly.

                “A drink to talk about a potential professional partnership?” Jake asks, smile bland and not reaching his eyes.

                “Well, no,” their voice drops lower. “More a potential personal relationship…?”

                “I think my husband might have something to say about that, and also I'm not at all interested.”

                What the actual fuck Sarah thinks to herself. Since when has Jake been married? And to declare it quite loudly in a room full means there’s no back tracking.

                “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were… unavailable. You’ve never mentioned a husband before.”

                “No, I haven’t. But we have been married for coming up to five years.”

                Five years!!! Sarah thinks to herself.

                “You called?” Bradley asks, voice dry and Sarah cannot fucking believe it.

                “Hi. Yes. I did. Ready to go home?”

                “Ready when you are.”

                Sarah needs to reassess every time she remembers them interacting, because they’re still looking at each other, but now that she knows they’re married it puts a whole different lens on why that level of intensity might be there in the gaze they’re sharing.

                Oh.

                They’ve been eye-fucking each other.

                During meetings, events, social get togethers… when they’ve been pushing each other around.

                Oh.

                Right.

                Good for them.

…            …            …

                “What made you decide to declare our matrimonial state tonight?” Bradley asks, and it’s a struggle to talk, Jake’s mouth on his neck sucking, biting and kissing. His fingers have already undone the buttons of Bradley’s shirt and pushed it off, now working on his belt.

                “Novelty had worn off. I want the novelty of being able to hold your hand, or kiss you if I want to or…”

                “Or simply say we’re married?”

                “Yeah. That too.”

THE END

[howlsofbloodhounds]

hello! i am brand new to everything about undertale au's, by so i mean maybe two months in. it's quickly become one of my favorite things, and while i mostly focus on the apple twins, i've grown to love killer a lot. i thought this might be a good place to ask, can you explain him to me? from backstory to what the the different stages are (this mostly). i know very little about him, and this is an issue, so feel more than free to go into crazy detail if you want, or even throw in personal thoughts. learning about him pleases me

Hello! I will try to answer, but i feel it is first important to state two things.

1. Killer has a lot of lost media, a lot of his canon information and materiel was deleted—including an entire ask blog. So if someone ever claims something about Killer is true, it’s probably best to ask for some sort of proof for this. Such as a link or a screenshot from his creator, rahafwabas.

2. Rahafwabas has also said that every interpretation of Killer can be canon. She was very loose and free with her character, and just wanted people to have fun. So don’t worry too much about sticking close to what little remains of canon.

What we have of Killer’s canon now is basically his Something New comics (origin), a few more scattered comics and drawings here and there, and some fun facts.

I have links to some of Killer’s canon stuff in the top of my pinned post if you want to give it a look, but if not, here is a link to a Google Doc someone made about canon Killer (I didn’t make it.) It’s also no guarantee that every single thing has been found and archived.

That being said! I will give a summary of the first origin, before the updated one that involved the Player and how we altered Sans’ codes to create kill_sans. Undertale: Something New has multiple endings as well, but I won’t get into that just yet. Because this is just about Killer, not how he met Nightmare or Color or any of that.

In Rahafwabas’ own words, Something New was described as something along the lines of how, after going through so many Resets—being constantly killed, fighting, watching everyone die, repeating multiple different days and outcomes over and over—Sans eventually shuts down emotionally and stops caring, loses hope, and becomes like the human.

The human notices, and starts proposing something new. A deal. Sans joins them on a Genocide, and they’ll stop Resetting and let the world move on—Sans wants to continue, or stop (die, erase the world), is what the human says he wants.

Sans spits in their face and refuses. The human brutally and violently murders him in response.

Rinse and repeat for a couple thousand unknown Resets—and something changes one day. Suddenly, Sans is thinking about something new. He’s thinking about how everyone deserves to die anyway—they’re all weak, he can’t save them, Papyrus is so fucking lucky.

Who cares anymore.

The thoughts happen so slow he doesn’t catch it—so focused on trying to tune the kid out, even as their words work their way into his mind and nothing feels real. Sometimes he catches his thoughts, confused and distressed—because it’s not true. He doesn’t hate Papyrus, he doesn’t want to join the kid or kill anyone.

And yet something in his minds insists he does, in his own voice, in his own thoughts. Perhaps it wasn’t uncommon to find Sans arguing to himself with increasing distress and confusion, even. Arguing as if he’s two different people.

His mind starts slipping, he can’t tell what is and isn’t real anymore. Is he going insane? Is he losing his mind? Has the kid done something to him?

Or is this just genuinely what he wants. He didn’t think he was like that. He’s not, surely.

“Am i going insane?” “Heh. Yeah.”

“This isn’t right..” “But we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore..” “Yes I do.”

Whatever. Who cares anymore. Not him. Not him.

Eventually it all comes to a head when Sans, all big dead eyes and empty smiles, shakes the devil’s hand and gets to hunting. We don’t get to see all of the first Genocide route, but we see Sans kill Flowey, Grillby, and eventually..Papyrus.

I won’t spoil the entire scene because I personally find it devastating enough to read on your own. The moment where we see how manipulated Sans has become—manipulated into hating and despising his own brother, enough to gleefully reveal he has been dreaming about this moment. Where he gets to make Papyrus experience even half of the pain Sans went through.

It isn’t until a broken, bloody, battered Papyrus opens his arms wide and tearfully declares that he’d happily die if his presence was causing his brother so much pain, that Sans snaps back. He remembers who he is, and more importantly, he remembers who Papyrus is.

It was never an enemy. It was never his tormenter, mocking him with his happiness and safety. He was his little brother, and now he’s dead.

Because of him. And he can never undo that.

We get to see how truly fragmented and disoriented Sans has become after this—too busy arguing with himself to truly notice when Chara skillfully slides in, offering comfort and reassurance to their new partner, their new best friend, as they welcome him to the Genocide run.

From here the Genocide route continues—with some of the dialogue up above happening. We see Sans and Chara having fun with it now—tossing around a monster’s hat, laughing and cheering as they kill Undyne. Sans is confused as he laughs and smiles and giggles—he hates himself. Why is he doing this again.

he doesn’t know. He smiles as he gifts Chara a knife, and their happy surprise is perhaps enough to make him feel.

…They put on Papyrus’ scarf. He can’t help but stare. But they are right—he’s being ridiculous. He has killed his brother before.

…at least they take it off.

He confronts Alphys. But then she confronts him—…Sans, why are you doing this? Is the human making you?

Sans is confused. He’s doing all this of his own free will, right? Of course the human doesn’t have any control of this. Of course not. He’s doing this because he wants to feel something.

…Why is he even explaining himself. None of them will understand. Only Chara does.

Then there’s suddenly a feeling of someone standing behind him, watching him mournfully, when Alphys mentions him. No, he’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not—

Alphys is dead.

there’s no going back now, and Chara insists on just one more route. Just one more. And another and another and another and another and another and another—

He’s having so much fun! So much fun. So much fun. Chara watches on with a smile as Sans just hysterically laughs and cries and laughs and cries and laughs and—

…San is tired. He’s…exhausted. He feels drained, and empty. why is he even still here. how did he get here.

…The two continue on. There’s no more laughing or cheering or crying. It is what it is.

..Sans notices some type of black sludge sliding down his cheek one Reset (how many has it been now?…who cares). He dismisses it. Who cares.

There’s a growing, burning ache somewhere in his chest yet another Reset. The sludge slides down more frequently..

..The pain keeps growing with every single Reset. He can’t take a single step without this black sludge sliding from his eyes, his nose, his teeth. What’s happening to him? What’s happening what’s happening what’s happening—

..It hurts. It hurts so much, make it stop, please. He turns to Chara one Reset. What’s happening to me? What’s happening to me? Please, it hurts.

He can’t see Chara anymore. His vision is so blurry, they look so different. He stumbles and falls to the ground, frozen with pain and fear—unable to realize that he has fallen into a bed of golden flowers.

His SOUL hovers outside his chest, a black spot slowly, painfully growing and expanding in the middle as if a parasite is wiggling its way inside. Curling around, eating everything it can and burning away the rest. Forcing its victim into the desired state.

The only explanation Chara has for him is something along the lines of, “Your soul is becoming like mine. Neither beast nor man, and you will feel nothing. Wait here, and I’ll go deal with that stupid flower.”

Sans is left to ponder those words as he starts fading in and out from life. But then he hears laughter, someone calling his name.

Papyrus.

Sans’ last words—his last thoughts—are of Papyrus.

“Papyrus..I’m sorry. I will miss you all.”

His SOUL is filled with DETERMINATION as it snaps into the target shape. Sans dies with a pathetic mournful whimper, as Killer silently takes his place.

{ @lucid-cups }

[13thdoctorposts]

I hate that RTD and Tennant and crew can't leave the show alone, that not only does RTD act like his formula is the only/best and not only is Tennant incapable of fucking stepping back from the role even after a grossly egotistical first run in the 00s, but a generation of fans only recognise/like Who when its in that image. And that hurts the show massively, it hurts other actors both in the sense that they aren't allowed from out of his fucking shadow and in that literal workplace abuse and media smear campaigns are excused when it happens around them.

Yeah, considering the most questionable things seem to happen under RTDs watch but the media never has anything to say negative about him compared to the level of shit levered at Moff but then even more so at Chibs, especially when Chibs seems like the most humble of the 3 is crazy.

I've read a lot of comments that Chibs wasnt good enough to Showrun as big a show as Doctor Who he didnt have the skills for it, but lucky RTD is back because he has the skills to do it, the cope from people is crazy!

Especially considering the shit show that seems to exist now, leaks, upon leaks, upon leaks, Ncuti's announcement almost instantly being over shadowed by Tennant's announcement, and the fact that Ncuti's happened on a red carpet... they would have known it was about to be leaked and couldn't have come up with something a bit better even if it was on a short deadline? Didn't really matter I guess Tennent coming back and being announced the following week seemed more important to them. The Bi-regeneration, which within the show lore I don't care about, do canon braking things, but of course that left the 14th Doctor out there doing his own thing with his own TARDIS completely overshadowing Ncuti, the number of comments I've seen about 15th not being the 'real' Doctor or being a clone Doctor etc. and for what to keep Tennent around off camera? So that people would question 15th legitimacy? To make sure Ncuti couldn't have his time alone to shine? Then we have the recent articles saying Millie was dropped/axed... with no evidence spread across the internet and front pages of papers across the UK saying she was dropped/axe for inappropriate behaviour with no elaboration, just trying to ruin a 19 year olds career with nothing to corroborate or evidence given and neither Bad Wolf or The BBC bothered to come out and clarify anything even though these stories also unofficially announced a new companion... one that even Mandip Gill said she has kindly messaged and Radio Times has spoken about, but Bad Wolf and The BBC haven't even announced her and given her that moment. And a side note to that is the new white companion got introduced with the TARDIS by the New Doctor as an official announcement the woman of colour companion got announced in a bunch of papers bad mouthing the former companion, guess like Ncuti not everyone gets to have the same treatment. So Chibs wasnt good enough to Showrun?! No one knew Jodies casting announcement that didnt get leaked, even Dan got his own video announcement as a new companion, nothing to do with his writing but Showrunning the show with the limited BBC budget he had even though he was able to keep his house in order for over 5 years while RTD, with his big BBC/Disney budget doesnt seem to keep anything in order, and Chibs is the one who supposedly doesnt have the skills to Showrun.

I think we really did need a brand new show runner and Tennent should have only returned for the 60th if it was a multi Doctor story, Multi, not as in just with 15 in the last ep but with previous Docs. All the 60th did was give the 10th Doctor a happy ending that was seriously weird for all the Doctors who came after him, so narratively was just a WTF, like you just told a companion you had feelings for them and couldn't settle down and 3 days later settle down with a friend from 1000 years ago (in the doctors time) talk about jarring to watch, the episodes were not celebratory in anyway, wasn't written any better then 13 era despite what we were told we would get and left 14 there so people could make countless videos and write countless blog posts about how 15 isnt legitimate. what a celebration!

I think we needed a brand new show runner, no having 10 and 14 to make Tennent even more special by putting him in every Doctor line up from now on twice and had Ncuti come in. I understand He couldn't film for the 60th, but they managed to put a Christmas Ep out with him 3 weeks later maybe instead of the 60th and Christmas ep it could have been a movie length ep with Ncuti so filming could have started later.

Thats a pretty long rant sorry. But in conclusion we should have just moved forwards instead of bothering to look back, and given the new actors the lime light in the way they deserved.

[neurodivergentbraingoblins]

Story time about how being "inclusive" is often used as pretty jewlery to make workplaces seem less shitty than they are.

So I used to work for a place that did workers compensation claims. I was a data entry worker - essentially my job was to processes all incoming and outgoing documents and make sure they digitally got attached to the correct claim so other people could do their job.

I had been working at this place for about 6 months, and we had a MASSIVE turnover in people. Like over half my team/coworkers quit. Well, I just happened to be really, really good at data entry work. My pattern recognition skills and OCD compulsions were a perfect fit for this job. Even management constantly would say how impressed they were with the amount of work I could get done.

Here's the problem - the 2 other people who didn't quit during the turnover were my superiors. They had problems with the way I communicate (AuDHD). So instead of dealing with it, they openly harassed me in group chats. Our boss would see the chats and then call them out on it and tell them to stop.

Fast forward a few months later. Shit is getting crazy for our company as we were expanding. I'm getting harassed constantly by all my "teammates" and from higher ups. I go to HR about the concern and they decide to have me just directly report to our boss. But the problem wasn't solved. I still had to work with and ask questions to the team who obviously hated me. Simply because I communicate and work differently than I do. I was always willing to help them get caught up on work, but never the other way around.

So I've been at this place for about a year now and I'm testing a brand new method of cataloging data to the correct files. (Example- adding medical records for a specific person to their specific digital file so the adjuster assigned to the claim can review it). Turns out something broke with the process and over 700 files were lost.

So I get pulled into a very sudden meeting with me, the 2 teammembers who were my superiors and my boss. They are freaking out trying to figure out how to fix this. When I could finally get a chance to speak I told them I had backups of most of the files. They all went silent and just stared at me.

I explained that the way the process worked gave me anxiety because of this very potential issue. Once the files were uploaded to the claims, they were deleted from the storage location. Gone permanently. I didnt want to be the one responsible for losing important documents if something when wrong, so as a precaution (and a newly developed OCD compulsion) I would save most files to a different folder as a backup (usually just the files I had to convert from one format (ex: word doc) to a PDF).

Turns out I ended up saving the company thousands of dollars and thousands of work hours. My boss literally said to my face "your OCD saved the day! You're a hero!". The very next day everyone was back to being upset at me for how I did my job 😅

Well, over the course of my year there, management put together a COMPANY WIDE MANDATORY meeting about inclusivity and anti-discrimination. Of course I attended and I was having to hold back tears and laughter as everyone made all these promises to not judge people and to be open to "other working styles". The meeting was a 5 hour long meeting with different games and activities. You could tell the company execs were so proud of themselves for the meeting.

The very next day I received the perfect example of what NOT to do from my own boss who helped lead the company meeting! Essentially she heard a rumor that I was setting up meetings with other departments to work on things that hadn't been approved through the proper channels. She pulled me into a virtual meeting and, I kid you not, lectured me for 5 minutes straight about how that wasn't allowed. When I finally got a chance to speak I calmly told her I'd never done anything like that before. I admitted that occasionally I would ask someone else questions in a random email here or there when it related to what we were talking about. But I had never done any of the things she just accused me of and lectured me about. She was "assuming the worst and the negative instead of something positive" which was one of the core values we had spent almost an hour on at the meeting the day before.

I immediately went to HR crying. What was the point of that ridiculous mandatory meeting if the company superiors were still going to discriminate against me??? Well after a year of putting in hard work for them, fighting against all the harassment they threw at me, and doing my best to advocate for myself I ended up quiting. It was an amazing paying full time (40hr) job that fit my skills perfectly. But I had to quit because I couldn't stand listening to them say "we love your OCD and it really helps the company, but you need to stop doing things that way. It is really annoying and takes too long. Plus your coworkers don't like it. But keep giving us those same results! You really are our best worker!"

My OCD was turned into a joke. Something that was only okay when it benefitted them, but a disgusting trait to hide away when it didn't.

Tldr: I gave a year of my life to a company that outwardly toted being "inclusive" while simultaneously being harassed for my OCD and AuDHD symptoms. All while being told my "OCD saves the company money but like, can you please stop doing things that way? Thanks!"

[honeekyuu]

hey this is the shy anon from the other day that read through your ao3 and i just wanted to stop in and say to take your time and don’t let these anons get to you. i know you’ve been writing on your ao3 for a while now but your tumblr is literally brand new and i’m honestly at a loss for words that you’re already getting rude anons and people pressuring you to post more.

you seem like a really busy gal and i’d hate for demands like that to burn you out. you’re doing amazing and don’t let anybody be an asshole to you. post what you want when you want/can, i’ve seen far too many people give up on fandom because they feel like they have to constantly churn out content to the detriment of their creativity and passion. you’re so talented and based on the frequency with which you’ve been writing in the last few months it seems like you have a fire in your soul for haikyuu. i hate seeing it taken for granted and i just wanted to let you know you have support in doing whatever the fuck it is you want.

(feel no obligation to reply to this, just wanted to offer some support after seeing such atrocious fandom etiquette literal days into the life of this blog)

wow, i really dont know what to say--

i saw this as soon as you sent it in, but i was honestly super shocked that id gotten it, so ive just been sitting here thinking ab it.

it means probably more than you realize that you sent something so kind. i've been writing for a long long time now (both here on a different blog and on ao3), and it's true that i am very busy, because unfortunately being a phd student and running experiments and spending all my time running back and forth between my advisors and conferences and the lab means i have a schedule thats not really a schedule, and i can never really say when or what im going to be inspired enough to write, enough that i can pull myself out of daily burnout. i experience writing droughts often, sometimes lasting up to a year before i feel the urge to sit down with a doc again. and i have a LOT of half-written fics that have never seen the light of day, which i plan to get back to eventually but which, in reality, may never get finished.

ive gotten so much love and support over the years, and it's brought me back to writing every time. i love haikyuu with my soul, and i think about my fics almost every day because i feel a burning need to write them. if not for anyone else, then just for me.

but this blog is brand new, so, even though that anon i received definitely tops the list of unfriendly comments ive gotten over the many years of writing, i wanted to be as kind and accommodating as possible. because i dont want people to think im ungrateful and will ignore criticism, because no one likes those kinds of writers. but i am also a person, and writing is hard, so i think i will continue to do things my way.

my writing style is this, for anyone who'd like to know: i am erratic, and i dont have an upload schedule, because i cant realistically manage one. i have periods of inactivity, because life is hard, and i have periods of hyperactivity, because i love this fandom and the way that haikyuu makes me feel in a life that's full of terrible feelings. this may annoy some people, and i can understand that. but i cant force myself to write if im not in a place to write, and i cant force myself to stick to one fic at a time, because then it'll be clear that it's been forced.

im extremely annoying and unhinged and feral and i will talk about several different fics and smaus and text threads and headcanons all within the same breath. but i will always write what i love, so if you'd like to see work that is well-loved, feel free to stick around.

thank you very much to everyone whos been so kind in my inbox tonight, and i hope to see you all tomorrow <3

[42donotpanic]

WIP GAME

Tagged by: @auofgoldandfantasies Thank you!

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips

I have like... endless amounts of WIPs, so, behold:

We're doing this like last time and I'll make it nice and colorful for reasons. Everything that is purple is posted or partly posted and everything that is red is part of some sort of collab with other people.

Alright, here we go:

Bangs:

Double Kill

Multiversal Mess

Pod_Together Soulmates AU

Support you all the way

Not just a Mask

Different Kinds of Love

Bad Decisions

Building a Relationship

Does this count as a Polycule?

Familial Love

Talking about Romance

Domestic WinterHawk AU

Love Bites

No Prompt Left Behind

Foggy 157, 158, 187 Monster/Demon under the Bed

Matt 157, 158, 187 Monster/Demon under the Bed

Multiversal Mess

7: Daredevil Fanfiction

Podfic

Every Last Piece

Safe Place

WSBB

Posted WIPs

25 Reasons Clint Barton is not crying anymore

26 Ways to break Matt Murdock's heart

Amputee!Clint

Comfortember 2023

Hawkdevil AU

Matt recognises the WS

Now I wear my scars just like tattoos (scar)

Nur Ein Echo der Zeit

Soulmarks and metal arms

Sound and colour

The crossover one

The one with the breakup

the ones no one asked for

To see the bruises

Tortuga Inn

Vampire AU

WarHawk

unposted WIPs

(Don't) know who you are

A Pack of Wolves

Cover Up V2

Coverup

Doctor!Tony

Don't try to fix us

Double Shot Coffee

Facial Difference

I will only slow you down

Nightmares

No Voice, still on T

Snow Fall

Stolen Keepsake

The blind Hawk

The deaf and the blind and the deafblind kid

The one they will hate me for

Firefighter AUs

AUgust 2024

Random Oneshots

Nipple Piercings

Be my Doll

Panic Attack Matt

Bucky Tentacles P*rn

Last Minute Gift

Bucky's Trigger Words

Bedtime Stories

Blanket Nest

Branded Bucky/Bruce

Cutting

Diet Culture

I don't like you

Sometimes I wish I can strangle you

Matt didn't cry

Music Festival

Oral Sex

Sin

Support

soft

too loud

the prank

WarHawk Smut

Matt goes Deaf

Scars

A Quick note at the end, as you may have noticed, there are two docs called "Multiversal Mess", so if you're interested in either (or both) of them, please specify which folder you're referring to, since it's not the same fic.

And as always, please don't hesitate to send me asks about this game, or really anything else, I always love answering them!

No pressure tags: @heretherebewolves @flowerparrish @endlesstwanted @ravenmold @evenfallwriter and everyone else who sees this and is interested!

[dollsonmain]

So it's been a couple weeks since the last surgery and removing the final stent.

I'm not sure if I feel better, honestly.

TMI

~ My kidneys still hurt. Sometimes it's the familiar pinching feeling, sometimes an also familiar dull ache, a brand new to me occasional burning feeling. It's not great. I really expected that to stop about a week after the final stent was removed.

Could have formed new stones already, considering how high my blood calcium level is and the fact that the right side stents calcified repeatedly within a short time of installation.

I suspect I'll have to have stones removed again eventually, whether or not it takes a longer or shorter time to get my thyroid sorted.

~ My urine still smells wrong sometimes, so there may be a new infection brewing. I hope not. It doesn't smell like it did before. Before it smelled like I was rotting from the inside, which makes sense, because I was.

Now it smells like cheap lunch meat sometimes. A lot of protein, I guess. Mostly it smells fine.

~ I'm not having any weird toilet habits that popped up or anything. Drinking water at a normal pace. Using the toilet at a normal pace. Able to hold it fine. All that seems normal. Only reasons I can figure the first stent was causing me to pee all the time was either because the doc was rougher that time, or because I was so sick that my body couldn't really handle it. The time between the first stents and first surgery was really rough.

~ I can't say I'm less tired than before, but the exhaustion is much less heavy?? I'm tired right now because That Guy decided he doesn't hate me again and is waking me up in the night for head, but I'm upright. I've been tempted to crawl back into bed the past couple days but haven't needed to. Before, there were times where it felt like if I didn't lie down I would fall down, my need to sleep was so sudden and desperate.

I'm not getting anything done, though. That's normal and annoying at the same time.

~ I've been a little depressed but not terribly, and as I'd said, I'm starting to feel an interest in my hobbies, again, outside of just buying stuff.

I'd also mentioned my hands are steadier than they were. Still wobbly and wibbly, but less so than before.

Still constantly running into shit, though.

[away-ward]

okay, i just saw your hc of “what if emmy got pregnant in high school” and now its making me think the same about damon and winter since damon also has a breeding kink (which we see much more of in the bonus au scene) how do you think damon would react? i just started following your account and im really liking a lot of your hot takes

Hey thank you! It's always good to know that at least some out there are enjoying them.

I figured I'd just do the other three to keep them on the same post. We'll start with Damon since that's who you asked about.

Damon, we know from the alternative scene, wants to get Winter pregnant as away to keep her and control her, which is his particular brand of "love" in high school. If he found out that she was pregnant...well, the image that comes to mind is like a cat that ate the canary.

Winter would be furious, I think in either of the timelines but especially in canon. She's too young, she doesn't like Damon extending his control over her like that; she wanted a choice, not to be forever tied to him by accident. Still, if she did keep it, she'd love that baby with everything she had. She'd keep it and protect it from Damon.

The baby would definitely be a source of fighting for them.

If it was a boy (which, looking at Damon's track record...) Gabriel would be interested. Good chance he'll pull a Christiane 2.0 and take him away. If it's a girl, it's the Ashby's problem.

The Ashby's would seriously consider sending Winter away again. I just know her mom would ask if there were still those boarding schools for "girls like her," that took pregnant girls so they didn't disgrace the family. Her father would promptly walI her over to the town doc that performs all the abortions unwanted/accidentally pregnancies for Thunder Bay (but shhhh, that's a secret). If Winter wouldn't go through with an abortion (she'd have to really fight and scream to get her father to relent), she would consider closed adoption. Considering how angry she was, there's a chance she would have gone through with it. But I'm also thinking her love for Damon despite everything would keep her from being a 100% committed, and that small room for doubt would be enough.

Michael

This wouldn't happen to Michael. He wouldn't even touch Rika until she was 18 or close to it. If she did somehow, despite all this plans, become pregnant with his child, that's it. They're getting married and raising that thing together side by side, as faraway from his family as he could get. Her mom too, if she doesn't get sober real quick. Noway is that going to be let around his kid.

For Rika, this is not how she planned it, but she always wanted Michael so maybe this was how it was meant to be. It's just like them to skip past all the nonsense of dating and getting to know each other. They already know they're made for each other, anyway. But she hates the idea that Michael thinks she tricked or "planned" this. She wasn't poking holes in condoms and she resents him for implying it (which he definitely has more than once).

They'd fight, they'd bicker, they'd annoy each other, but overall they'd be content and happy, approaching this new stage of their life with purpose and assurance that the other is going to try and be the best parent they could.

Kai

This also wouldn't happen to Kai, but it's way more likely to happen to him than to Michael. Especially with Banks involved. His brain shut down whenever she appeared in front of him. Honor bound, he would do whatever he could to make it right. He wouldn't love the idea of abortion (hard to tell if he's the type of Catholic that's completely against the idea, or if he's more along the lines of it's not my body though it's my baby, or if he's more like it's not okay for anyone else but this is my emergency so I'll ask for forgiveness (that he doesn't thinks he'll get... kai's weird)). Overall, if the baby is born and he has to tell his parents, he's going to have one giant shadow over his head. Of course he loves the baby. But this is just another way he's disappointed his father. But then Kai will go to college, and get his degree, get the job, get the salary that will provide the very best for his family. No more screwing up for him.

Basically, this would be something he beats himself up over but would not take him down.

There's a really good chance Banks never tells anyone and takes her self to the abortion clinic. Her fear that Gabriel would kick her out because she can't bring another mouth into his house - that was not the deal. Or ended up anything like her mom, chasing after to rich man to take care of a baby neither of them wanted. Not that she would chase after him. It's just the whole situation she'd want to avoid; it hits too close to home. And don't even bring up Damon finding out. I think she'd also be scared to mess the kid up. At seventeen, she doesn't think she's anywhere close to being mother material. Best to save this kid some pain before it understands. The only thing that might stop her is if Kai somehow found out and talked her out of it. But that would have to be one hell of a speech.

Hope you don't mind me highjacking your question! I'll probably come back and edit to include Will's so that all four are on the same page.

I'll be interested in hearing anyone else's hot takes or opinions. Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments or post.

[dragonsnips]

Godzilla Minus One Review/Possible Spoilers

So I just saw Godzilla Minus One yesterday with my brother. And I have to say, it’s has to be one of my brand new favorite Godzilla movie of all time. This movie is really good, go watch it if you haven’t seen it.

No Spoilers-

So I’m breaking this review down into two sections so here we go. This is not spoiling the movie. I have to say this movie brought me feelings that I haven’t felt with any other Godzilla movie. Not even the very first Godzilla movie, 1954. Which is so strange to me because I love Gojira. That’s one of my favorite movie and it was on the number one spot for my favorite movie for a very long time. Till this movie came out and put Gojira down to number 2. I have never, found myself getting attach to any of the human characters, in a Godzilla movie for that matter. Sure, there are some humans characters I did like in Godzilla’s movies, but never attach. I was routing for these character to live, and have a happy life. I loved all of them, they quickly became all my favorite characters. Even Characters that appeared around the end of the movie started becoming my favorite. What’s going on? Do I feel ok? Why has a Godzilla movie did this to me. As for Godzilla…….Godzilla is terrifying. And I’m not just saying that. This is a movie where I was scared of Godzilla. And I love Godzilla, been watching Godzilla my entire life. Have pretty much all of the classic Godzilla movie. I’ve seen all of Godzilla movie. And Godzilla was menacing in most Godzilla films. Even, I hate to say this, but even Gojira wasn’t really that scary. Don’t get me wrong, Gojira is a classic, and it dose have some intense scene. And I did find myself getting scared of Godzilla, but not as much as I did with Godzilla Minus one Godzilla. The way Godzilla minus one moved, and acted. He was like an on stoppable force of nature. Nothing could stop this guy. And the way he destroy things,(ok that just me liking monster movies). It was how they build this Godzilla to make him stand out. He look like classic Godzilla, which I’ll talk about later. He didn’t look like Shin Godzilla, I have feeling about that movie, but I’m not taking about Shin. I’m talking about Godzilla minus one. Godzilla look pretty much normal, but he’s still scary. But beside Godzilla being scary and getting attach to human character. This movie felt like an old classic Godzilla, but in a good way. I felt like I was watching the 1954 movie all over again, but this time for modern audience. (Wonder how people felt when they saw Godzilla back in 1954). It had reference to Godzilla in the pass while bringing new things to the table. (However there are a few things I didn’t like about this movie, but I’ll get to those later.) I went into this movie, expecting a lot of things, and came out getting more than I wanted.

Possible Spoiler-

Now we’re getting into spoiler part. If you haven’t seen Godzilla Minus One.

Skip this Part!!!

If your find with Spoilers, or have seen the movie already. Let’s get Started. I don’t want to go into to much depth so I’ll just brake things down to some of my favorite scene. The ending, yes I’m talking about the ending because it’s one of my favorite moment. And that plot twist at the end. I won’t say much about it, but you’ll be very happy with the plot twist. And when Godzilla first showed up in Tokyo, it was Gojira all over again, and when Koichi lost Noriko, it broke my heart to see him sad and alone again. And how Koichi had made new friends on a boat to deal with bombs. His friends are cap, kid and doc. Those are the nickname they all had, but you all are going to love them all. And how Kid came in and help everyone with Godzilla…..🥹

Ok, I know that part is really short, but I’ll be there all day and I don’t want to spoil the movie for anybody. Now I getting down to what I don’t like about the movie. This should be short because there isn’t a lot a hate about this movie. The first thing is, well I was hoping for a more of a build up to Godzilla. Like we did with Gojira. But that just a minus…..get it….. minus. I’ll be going 🥲. And I don’t know if I’m the only one here, but I don’t really like how Godzilla’s spines are coming out of his back like that, whenever he charge up his atomic breath. Don’t get me wrong, I love his new atomic breath. I just don’t really like the spine coming outward whenever he charge up his beam. It just look silly on him. And last, I wish there was more destruction. Silly right? Asking for more building getting destroyed in a Godzilla movie that’s already good enough. Yes, I’m asking Al that because I was hoping for like Godzilla to destroy Tokyo a second time, like he did in Gojira. But I’m still happy with what we got. I just wish for more destruction.

And there you have it, a review on Godzilla Minus One. Well, this is more of a my opinion of the movie. I don’t normally do this type of things, but I wanted to get out what I thought about Godzilla minus one. Tell me guys what you’re thoughts on the movie was. And what your top 5 favorite Godzilla movies.

Here’s mine.

1.Godzilla Minus One

2.Gojria 1954

3.Godzilla vs Biollante

4.Godzilla Against Megagodzilla

5. Godzilla King of the Monster 2019

[impishtubist]

how do i get my motivation to write back?

That depends, Anon! Do you have lots of story ideas you'd love to write, and you just can't find the motivation for it? Or are you wanting to write but just don't have an idea that speaks to you?

The first one is hardest for me! I hate when I have tons of ideas in my head, but then when I sit down and open a document, all I do is stare at the page. Or maybe I can't even bring myself to open the doc in the first place. It's so frustrating! But usually that is a sign to me that I need to step away from writing for a while and go do something else that isn't related to writing at all, like playing music or going hiking. Sometimes a few days spent doing other things does the trick and helps you get your motivation back.

I also find that if I am reading or watching something that I think is spectacular, it inspires me to work on my own stuff again. We call this refilling the creative well :) Like right now I'm re-reading a fantasy series that I love, and it's making me excited about getting back to my own stories. (Reading and watching brand-new things is good, too. Inspiration can come from anywhere!) Alternatively, writing out of spite is also extremely motivating. 😂 There are a few times I've picked up a book that turns out to be mediocre, and then I think 'well I could have done it better than this', and then I am inspired to go write something.

It's also motivating to spitball story ideas with some friends! My favorite thing right now is to drop random tweets or reddit posts into Discord servers and go "okay imagine this is wolfstar though" and then a bunch of my friends and I will start spinning stories collectively together. And sometimes one of us then gets motivated to write the story! (With a healthy amount of loving bullying from the rest.) Having people talk through story ideas with you and help you flesh them out is another good way to get your motivation back.

I don't know if you're referring to fanfic or original fic, but if it's fanfic, sometimes signing up for a fest is helpful for me. Fests are usually themed, and they always have a deadline, so that helps me spit out a story on the page. There are also gentle prompt games you can find on Tumblr to help give you inspiration/motivation, like this one. (h/t to @aqua-myosotis for sending this one to me yesterday!)

Does any of that help?

[iamthecomet]

And hoot again :D

Yeah, you’re very right (both with so quickly depending on it being overwhelming and with it showing how much I needed it)

The trip to therapy went quite well! The bus wasn‘t overly full on both ways, so I could sit down which was really good. I‘m still nervous for the first time that I’ll sit down on the floor if all seats are taken (it would be safer and better for me, but before I was always too scared to do that. Now that I have a cane that makes it sort of visible that I have trouble walking/standing, I want to try to do it).

I have suspected that I have hypermobile joints for a while (the problem is that I’m not in enough pain to really struggle so much that it would really be worth seeing a doctor for, but I’ll mention it when I got my next appointment). Part of the problem is my bad memory, because due to that I honestly can‘t even remember if I’m in pain (I know stuff constantly and quickly starts hurting but that’s probably normal in most cases and I also have a really high pain tolerance).

My body can do things it‘s apparently not supposed to do though

But I feel it with the cane, cause my wrist always sort of wobbles cause it’s really not stable. So I tried applying tape today, but only went to the very near grocery store that takes like a minute to walk to. So I don’t really know how much it has helped yet regarding walking with the cane. I do feel more comfortable though, and I think it‘s also helping me with writing and drawing

(On the video I watched the guy explained what the hypermobile thing in that hand he was showing it on is exactly, what it would look like if it wasn‘t hypermobile and what the tape is gonna do. And my thumb has the exact position that is a result of the joint being hypermobile (so like my suspicion doesn’t seem to be too wrong)

Since noon I had a really really bad headache that felt like my skull was split open and my brain crushed. So really not nice. I took 1,5 ibuprofen and later one paracetamol but nothing helped.

Then I tested myself cause I remembered that the only time I had such a bad headache was when I had COVID and boom! Positive

So yeah. I‘ll stay in bed tomorrow (and my head hurts so fucking much. I hate it)

I‘ll send you pics when the order gets here if you want! :D

But two pairs of Doc Martens sounds very nice!

A really sweet and funny story:

A friend of mine asked me to explain Ghost (as in, explain everything).

Three days ago I sent a video of like a few clips of Jutty, one of which being this clip in which he is like “unfollowing is bullying“ and “wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨“

And since then, we‘ve constantly been sending “wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨” back and forth (then we started to send the clip as a only one time viewable video so it wouldn’t be visible beforehand).

Today, I cut off the beginning of an edit and put that clip behind that to hide it and sent it to them. They have also hidden it in a poll on WhatsApp already

It turned into a game and we can‘t stop laughing about it because it‘s so fucking silly xD (it‘s practically like Rick-rolling)

wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨

(You just got wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨-ed. You‘re welcome xD)

~ @owlishanon

I'm glad it's still going well! It's good that it gives you so much peace of mind and that you feel confident doing what you need to do now without worrying that something awful is going to happen. But I'm so sorry that you have COVID! It's rotten. I hope you get lots of rest and your headache doesn't last too long. Sleep and drink lots of water! You can definitely send me pictures of the stuff you get when it comes in! I always love to see people's hauls! I am very excited about my docs. I paid $140 for both pairs, which is like half of one what one of them costs brand new. I feel VERY lucky about it. One pair is rusty orange suede, they're short boots. Great for every day. The other are standard black knee highs which have been my dream boots since, like, forever (I've owed many, many pairs of knee high lace-up boots, but none of them were Docs). The wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨 thing has me giggling. Thank you for that. What a great joke to have with your friends, seriously. Fucking Jutty. He kills me in the best ways.

[therehavebeenstranger]

Okay! @stankhead just tagged me in their brand new tag game about our top artistic influences. I really really love this and am honestly very grateful to grem for giving me a little opportunity to be reflective about this right now; for context, i am about two weeks out from graduating with an MFA in creative writing (fiction track) from [redacted prominent midwestern university w decently-renowned 40 yr old mfa which has been attacked in recent years by humanities-hating admin, there you go, now everybody who follows the chronicle of higher ed can probably dox my ass] and so it’s nice, at this transition moment, to take a step back and think about the influences that have shaped my writing on a global level. I think it’s super useful and i’m typing this in a word doc so i can hang onto it for later. Okay enough chit chat. I’m gunna try to limit this to no more than like 4 or 5

Carmen Maria Machado—CMM is one of my biggest, most direct, and most obvious influences. She came to my college campus to lead a workshop and give a reading in the months leading up to the publication of her body and other parties. I was a sophomore (or maybe this was late freshman year?????) and encountering her work totally and completely shifted what i write and how i write. Complete reframe on what speculative fiction was and what it could do. HBaOP went on to have a big impact on me (esp. formally weird stories like Especially Heinous) but at the moment i was obsessed with her stories the husband stitch and my body, herself

Peak Cracked Dot Com—but especially everything DOB touched when he was there! I was a regular cracked reader from the age of 11 to the exact day that all those layoffs happened, and by regular i mean that every day i had access to the internet i read/watched/listened every piece of new content they published, whether or not i gave a shit about the subject matter. Cracked’s influence on me is less easy to tangibly track than CMM, but i literally boiled my forming brain in that site and i think the style permeates me work. Cracked had this strand of pedantry that necessitated dwelling with strange research and subject matter and letting things sort of spiral and cook and letting the obsession change the voice. (also, subject matter—this article inspired an obsession w Dorothy Arnold which became a story that will be published later this year.) It had a huge impact on my sense of humor and the way i approach dialogue, even when i’m not conscious of that. For dialogue i am especially thinking of video content like after hours and agents of cracked (the way the “swaim proving that that guy fu-u-u-cks goats” monologue hits in this ep *changed me forever). In general, i think my approach to narrative voice was really impacted by the fact that i spend my adolescence reading DOB’s old “my brief time as (blank)” articles and shit like “yer gramma was built like a brick shit-house in her day”

*if you click that link fair warning that the video is from like 2010 and def has some stuff that makes me uncomfortable in hindsight, including at least one use of the r word

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy—man. This is one of the great novels of all time, isn’t it???? i was assigned it in ib english senior year of high school and i’ve tried to read it at least once a year since. Pieces of the language regularly float back to me—“a viable, dieable age” “a sariflapping” “the time was ten to two” “the history woman in the history house.” Roy does things with language that i didn’t know you could do—makes paragraphs which are so thick and lush that they feel humid and green. Sticks words together to make new and better ones. Talks frankly about the story being told by the story. Like, that’s one of the things that’s so brilliant, right? From go, you know that sophie mol and velutha will die. The question is not what will happen in the story but how the story will be told and how it will mean to us. The language bears that out. It has totally suffused in my brain, it’s a lens through which i read everything. Also i think it’s about time for my annual reread of this book, ha.

What the moon brought by Sadie rose weilerstein—see, this is why i love this tag. I would not have pegged this book as an influence before being tasked w this reflexive task, but it looms large in my mind!!! My copy of this book—a collection of stories about sisters Ruth and Debbie as they go through their jewish year in the american suburbs, living their lives and observing jewish holy days—was ancient, falling apart; it had been purchased for my mother and her siblings in the early 60s. i was obsessed with it. it was the first book i read which treated Judaism as a fact of american life, if that made sense? Or the first book where i was conscious of Judaism as a force shaping story, time, etc. i mean it’s literally about what the moon brought; a recognition of the lunar jewish calendar. A different kind of time keeping. It told me that jewish stories were and are interesting, singular, rich, and worth pursuing. including a picture of the cover bc i love the cover :)

The fourth state of matter by jo ann beard—this essay is amazing, not that i am the first to say so. It’s worth reading, though i’ll warn that its content (it’s about a shooting that happened on a college campus) can obviously be tough to deal with. This has a very direct impact in my mind. My first creative writing prof ever used this essay to teach us about psychic distance, and learning about psychic distance was like—not like getting a new tool in my little writer’s toolkit, but like having the key that unlocked the kit in the first place.

There’s more, of course there’s more, but this is a thousand words so i’ll call it here. again, thank u gremlin for coming up with this tag it’s lovely and so useful. i'll tag @pintobordeaux and @januariat but i really genuinely encourage anybody who sees this post to do this kind of accounting. it's really useful and illuminating :)

[fangirlandtheories]

3, 13, 27 for the fic writer asks :)

Thank you for asking!

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

They Built You A Temple And Locked You Away feels different than anything I've written to be honest. It's the most raw and emotional piece I've written and I really loved getting into the vibe of all the different characters. This fic started as a request and it really blossomed from there. I truly believe it's my best writing and I'm really happy with it whenever I reread.

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

It really depends on the fic to be honest. I normally make a very basic game plan on a doc where I'll plot out each chapter to give myself an outline of what I need to write. I have one that I have fully fleshed out that I've not officially written yet but I have it down to lines of dialogue I'd love to use. Mostly, however, I'll start with that outline and then change, add, and take away from the original idea. I try to have the ending planned ahead but sometimes inspiration strikes in chapter 3 and I have to revampt the entire idea.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

You'll Be Dancing Once Again (And The Pain Will End)

It was my first posted work after a two year hiatus and my first for the Stranger Things fandom. I had never written anything for Steve and Eddie was a brand new character. There was so much going on in the fandom when that was posted, Vol. 2 hadn't even premiered yet, and I was scared that people would hate it. I'm very happy that I did end up posting it because it led me to where I am now!

[ripleyryans-archive]

@drmoonstones​

A bitch was coming for her brand.

That wasn’t very eloquent -- no matter how true it was. It was a decidedly crass way of turning an internalized fear into a concrete statement. She had never been crass growing up. No, Ripley Ryan was bubblegum and fuchsia; she was pop rocks and pep to mask a sociopathic nature and years of trauma and abuse. Sociopath. Ha. It was easy to slap a diagnosis on things, wasn’t it? She wasn’t a sociopath. Ripley was a goddamn survivor. 

Once upon a time, she’d been a writer. Not a good one, per se. Not good, not bad: the Ripley Ryan story. It was one of mediocrity. Good enough to get the job done but not stand out. Pretty enough to get the first date -- and maybe a trip back to her place after -- but never any further. Jesus, it was depressing. It had called for an entire personality and aesthetics reset. All that work and she still wasn’t content. That ever shifting part of her -- the part she so painstakingly worked to conceal with copious amounts of blush and lipstick in the wrong shade -- hissed that she never would. Some people were malcontented, and that was true for the storm of the woman who hid under the guise of a sunny sky.

Minn-erva may have augmented Ripley, but she didn’t make her. Ripley made herself. The Infinity Stone may have charged her, but she powered herself. Ripley was undeniable now, she liked to think. She was reality bound to flesh. That had to count for something, right?

In this instance, however, it was Ripley who was the usurper. She was the one infringing on the brand. There was a line of people who hated Carol Danvers and already a prominent blonde had staked her claim. Had Ripley more been cognizant and there existed less of a maelstrom beneath her skin, she would have moved on. She’d cut her losses because Carol won. She had punched a hole in Ripley’s chest and killed her -- and for what? To stop her reign of terror, sure. Whatever. Ripley was lucky to be alive, or whatever state she currently existed in. Ripley was pretty sure she was fully resurrected/reborn/whatever you wanted to call it. Her heart still beat a miserable staccato and her lungs cried for air. The only difference was the Reality Stone nestled in the hollow of her chest.

It was with an unearned confidence that she made her way down the graying halls of Ravencroft. The place unnerved her; the entire building just radiated bad vibes. It made her think of the Raft, and that sure as hell wasn’t a place that Ripley wanted to revisit. Been there, done with that shit. The glasses on her face were an unnecessary weight she had gotten used to living without despite spending the majority of her life in them. They were as much for show as the pink dress she had squeezed into. Under the surface, just out of view, her uniform laid concealed by a glamour. There had to be some points she could get for subtly and not strolling in with her cape out in its full glory.

“-- ‘sup, doc?” The swinging door heralded her entrance into the office space. Make new friends, they said. Get to know your team. There were three -- count ‘em -- separate Thunderbolt rosters but the supposed Dark Thunderbolts were packing heat. 

There was a wolves smile as Ripley took in the other blonde, pointed incisors bared. “Sorry it so long to get here. Traffic is terrible today.” That was a joke; she had flown. “And I’m sorry to drop in uninvited, but I figured if we’re gonna be teamies then we should get to know each other. So, tell me,” a pause for dramatic effect. “What’s your favorite color?”