#I have discussed theories and AUs with mutuals on this group

[ceiling-karasu]

Squirrel and Hedgehog Shipping Polls

Field Mouse Number Six and the Undercover Hedgehogs

[ideaofheaven]

— after 2AM (choi minho x reader)

Synopsis: Choi Minho and you never see eye to eye. After countless troubles you two caused in class, the professor pairs you for a group project as a form of ironic punishment… Which brings you to a heated night of push and pull, hours before the deadline.

Pairing: Choi Minho x fem!reader

Genre: university!AU, enemies to lovers-ish, smut, then it gets kinda fluffy at the end??

Word count: 9682

Warnings: alcohol, they’re in uni, profanities, they are HORNY, mutual masturbation, video call sex, domsub undertones, explicit dirty talk (implied exhibitionism, breeding, and a tiiiiny bit of degradation kink), panic attack - reader experienced post-coital dysphoria for a bit :(

AN: sometimes your thirsty hours turn into a 9k mutual masturbation fic - jk, I really enjoy writing this one, especially the dialogue. I hope you like it! [06/30: did some minor edits on typos and whatnot]

Mini part 2 here

+++

"Out of every topic, you picked this? Are you mad?"

First and foremost, Choi Minho and you never get along.

There are abundant reasons why you can't stand him. You don't share too many classes with him, but when you do it always ends up with heated and pointless arguments. During each one of your presentations, Minho will raise a hand and play the role of devil's advocate, earning intrigued whispers from your classmates. Until one day, the professor had enough and paired you up in a project, much to your unheard protests.

Quite inevitably, it ends up in half-hearted discussion through the Zoom Meeting, only two days before the presentation.

"What? Got a problem with that?" You snap while still uploading source data into your shared drive. Then, a bark of mocking laughter pierces your ears, positively grating your nerves.

"A problem? There's no theory that correlates to it. Guess we're not having any presentations are we?" 

You roll your eyes at the sight of his irksome sneer. It twists his usually bearable face into horribly displeasing. Minho's eyes spark alight with mockery, and you wonder why your classmates keep saying Minho "has the most tender eyes ever." Sounds like a different person altogether to you.

"We can find connections through other eras." You push through.

He rolls his eyes. "Which means you're doubling our work." 

"Check the drive." You say through gritted teeth, barely holding yourself to spit harsher words. Minho does as instructed, albeit still murmuring curses under his breath and hand rustling his gelled hair, quiet but purposely audible, perhaps just to push your buttons more. But you choose to wait. 

As expected, his eyebrows raise in surprise before he scoffs, "someone did their homework."

"And someone's a useless ass." Minho whips a glare at his own laptop camera - at you. Before he can say anything, you mute him. And you can see him biting his lips, holding back more words, solidifying your win.

"Shut up and get to work, Choi."

Then, his mic icon goes on.

"Fuck you."

You smirk. With a finger on your lips, you speak to him like one to a child. "Shhh. Be useful for once, will you?"

Both of you are petty and nothing sort of professional, but you have no intention to be the bigger person, not for Choi Minho. Begrudgingly, he turns away, and an icon with a familiar photo appears in the google docs.

That should motivate him to work.

His voice suddenly rings. "Hey."

He hasn't typed a single word on your shared google docs, you note with cynicism.

"What?"

"Your vocabulary sucks." Then in a douchebag way you know only Choi Minho can manage, he deletes most of your bullet points as you stifle a scream. He did not - "Let me be useful and change it up for you.” He ends with a cruel smirk.

This is not going to be easy.

+++

After a short-handed discussion, both of you decide to work in the student center. The next day, grudging and rather worn out from your last class, you force yourself to go. As you rise from your chair, a voice calls you out.

“You look like you’re gonna have some fun.” Kibum snickers and Jonghyun stifles a laugh on his own as well. You pout at your classmates.

“And you know exactly why.” You mutter with a roll of your eyes.

“I paired up with him last semester and got a perfect score, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jonghyun shrugs, gaining glares from both you and Kibum.

“Easy for you to say, he’s like a puppy around you.” Kibum scoffs, his platinum-dyed hair covering his eye, which must be rolling with annoyance. He then turns to you, “I’d like to say I feel you, but Minho really is worse with you.”

“Like, in comparison, he actually tolerates you all this time.” The shorter man adds to Kibum, perplexed.

“Right?!” He shouts, all dramatic and making you groan. “Seriously though, it’s a dick move from professor Lee.”

“To be frank, I can’t see myself finishing this assignment in one piece.”

“You should tell Minho to drop the class.” Kibum says mischievously, only to get pinched by the male with short brown hair, who’s impatiently shushing him. “Ouch, I’m just saying.”

Clutching your bag strap, you think about it for a second before waving the idea off. “Not happening. Professor Lee will still kill me.”

Your two male friends give off different reactions, Kibum is still finding ways to alleviate your pain (or to add more trouble), but instead, Jonghyun moves closer to put his arms around you.

“Listen, (Y/n), he’s not that bad. You’ll see.”

Chuckling at the positivity, you pat his arms in response. “Not sure about it, but okay.”

After arriving at the end of the hall, you go on separate ways with the boys. While they can go grab some dinner, you drag yourself to the meeting spot. The student center is quite empty, and to be expected because the facility is not too popular in the evenings. You find a table to sit at, and wait for your project partner.

You already have your laptop set up when Minho appears. Unlike you, he seems rather refreshed. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie and trousers for his long legs. In his hand is a large plastic bag which he dumps unceremoniously onto the table.

"What's this?"

"No 'hi' or something?" The male starts, rolling his eyes, with a hand on his hip. "Some snacks, in case we need it."

Oh. Resisting an urge to rummage through the colorful packages inside the plastic bag, you throw a doubtful look his way instead.

"Um, thanks."

As if not sensing your hostility, he shrugs in resignation, mumbling "sure" before sitting down and grabbing his own laptop from his bag.

Without much preamble, you both start working. Minho manages to focus on his screen, and the momentum breaks only when he calls your name to confirm a thing or two. At some point, he grabs a bag of chips for him to munch on, not forgetting to nudge the plastic bag in your direction. “Have you taken any?”

“Oh. Right.” You mumble, picking some chocolate stick that catches Minho’s attention for a split second.

Once in a while, your gaze drifts over to him, almost anticipating a weird movement or him slacking off. However, the only strange action you find is Minho blowing air towards the dark strands of hair covering his eyes.

In all actuality, you expect the atmosphere to be more sour and less productive. Yes, there's a strange vibe in the air, but it's more similar to awkwardness to cause discomfort. 

Until suddenly, an insistent cursor on your shared google docs starts typing words that don't match your work. What the hell, anonymous tiger?

Growing exasperated, your fingers clack on the keyboard, furiously erasing the latest paragraph.

"What the fuck - I just wrote that!" The familiar voice shouts, and there's a split second when you think you should just kick him out, then do the presentation alone in class. That wouldn't be so bad.

"It's all wrong. And where are these photos coming from? Don't just put the bullet points there, they're meant to be the conclusion."

Minho takes a deep breath, shoulders visibly rising until he channels out his frustration with a noise that almost sounds like a growl. That sort of thing unfazed you, but you're still glad the student center is mostly empty.

"Listen, we can make a better statement than that." His eyes are like flames, and you can’t help but stare back and, as he wants, listen.

He pulls a chair, nodding to you in a silent gesture. Initially, you hesitate but you go over to him anyway. Minho clicks on the laptop and a new window pops up, showing a detailed page from a book.

"From this theory, I found a connection that can help us." With that, the temperamental male turns into a whole different person. He briefly explains the information he’s gotten from the book, all the while giving you the room to take it in. Then, with unmistakable excitement, he begins his train of thoughts he wants to implement into the assignment. With every sentence he says, your anger subsides, turning into something akin to awe. Not that you will admit it.

One thing for sure; for the first time, you think this project might work.

As he finishes, you blink rapidly. Minho leans back with his elbow on the desk, relaxed and undeniably proud of himself. You send a glare his way.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

His face scrunches, as if that was not the words he expected after the successful presentation.

"First, I wasn't done with the research." He says, eyebrows furrowing, then he points a finger at you. "Second, you muted me every time I said a goddamn word."

Oh, here we go again. Your two hands shot in the air, feigning a defense in front of the frowning man.

"Not my fault I don't want to hear your complaints."

There's a flash of something wild on Minho's face which you identify as his troublemaking expression. But as he leans closer, you realize it too late.

"This is why you should listen, (Y/n)."

In a snap, there's a pulling on your ear. Minho pinches your ear and pulls like you were a 5 year old with tantrums. The low level of pain causes you to winch, but it's the electricity from his touch that makes you jump back.

"Ow! What the hell!" You sputter and he snickers like this is elementary school, going with the theme in your head.

Satisfied, Minho releases you. But his hand lingers and it brushes the side of your neck, prompting you to hold a shiver from the ticklish sensation. It would be a drag to deal with more of his antics, so you get up from the chair to glare at him pointedly.

"You're a freak."

He challenges, fire in his eyes, "Care to say that again?"

Because you're not a university student who's not petty, you smirk and take the bait.

"You're a freak - hey!" His large hand pulls at your sleeve, halting your step. The sudden momentum startles you and you lose your footing. Ultimately, your body stumbles and falls with a yelp, and your bum hits the chair.

Grumbling, you shake off the shock before you attempt to get up once again. Then, a groan comes from beside you, too close, freezing you on the spot. A hand holds the side of your waist, and your suspicion is confirmed. Of course you did not land on the chair, you end up sitting on Minho's thighs, your back pressing against his.

"Getting comfortable?" Minho asks, his deep voice brushing your ears, and much to your dismay, you can imagine the leer that accompanies his voice. In panic and confusion, you attempt to leave his lap in a rush, only to be stopped.

"Can you get that hand off of me?" You ask, turning on him.

"I don't know, can I?"

His dark eyes clash with your glaring ones, gleaming with mischief and something else you can't quite decipher. All you can feel is his hand tightening its grip on your side, and the warm air of his breath, clouding your mind.

But this is Choi Minho, and you do not like Choi Minho, whatever the situation is. With a renewed willpower you push yourself off of him and be on your feet.

"We're wasting time." You declare. "Send me all your notes, we need to get going."

Minho only smiles sweetly, a one eighty degree difference from the man before, which only leaves you more frustrated. As he dives back into his work, you hide behind your laptop, calming your racing heart and ignoring the surge of familiarity you feel.

+++

The crowd was growing in number and in anger, too. The boys from the EXO house became more agitated with every word Minho said, filled with provocation and mockery. Jonghyun and Jinki were nowhere to be found, probably looking for chances to steal the mic. Taemin and Kibum were definitely loitering around the drinks bar.

You had no choice.

“Whoa, is that Jongin puking?!”

As expected, your shrill voice was enough to distract them before you literally dragged Minho by his jean jacket.

“Let me go,” he grunted, but his alcohol-induced state prevented him from doing it himself. Your smaller stature managed to pull him towards an empty room, which later you figured out to be the storage.

He tried to wrestle out of your grip, muttering curse words at no one in particular and you finally had enough. With both your hands, you slapped his cheeks, which were damp with sweat.

“You wouldn’t be able to win that fight.” You said sternly.

Minho froze, and while he was in that state, you quickly went out to get a glass of water. When you returned, he’s already blinking his eyes a few times, a sign of his returning sobriety.

And a sign you should leave the premises soon.

You handed him the glass, urging him to drink as you murmured, “I should go. This party sucks and, godammit, I just wanna go home. Drink this and… I don’t know, stay safe, I guess.”

The taller man drank slowly, but his eyes kept gazing at yours. When he finished, there was a soft look in his visage, and he suddenly smiled. Sleepy and tired, but sweet nonetheless.

Flustered, you left the glass in his hands, and ran away from the storage. The day after, Minho grumbled about his headache and loopholes in his memory from that party to Kibum and Jinki, and you sighed in relief.

+++

Sorry for the late reply! Was watching the campus baseball team

I added a few slides right before the first conclusion

Tell me what you think 🤔

These are okay.

But don't add more on that. We're almost reaching 40 slides.

Who said I'm gonna add more? 🙄

Idk, you seemed ready to add 10 more just to spite me.

Oh. 

Why didnt I think of that

Are you free tonight?

Lets review the whole thing

Duh, tomorrow's the presentation

Do you think I'm that stupid lol

Unlike you I care about my grades

Yeah?

And you think I don't?

You don't seem to care if you get me into trouble

Right. Whatever.

Unlike you I'm not petty

Idc who I work with I can get my job done

I didn't mean it like that.

I'll join you at 11 pm

+++

There's a discomfort that can't be spoken.

You scroll through the slides, apprehensive not of the contents, but of the author, the one that finally snapped at you. Perhaps you deserved it. On the other hand, Minho should stop basing his mood on sports game results, it's stupid as hell.

Five minutes to eleven, the preparation is done. You could just text Minho there's nothing left to do, and both of you could catch some needed rest.

Suddenly, a loud beep rings in your ear. And you don't think twice before admitting Minho into your Zoom meeting.

"Hey, sorry for the wait." He speaks, voice crackling from the signal before it becomes more stable. "I just took a bath."

"At this hour?" You ask, disbelieving his decision, but trying not to stare for too long.

"Yeah. I just got back from a soccer game. Jonghyun's invitation."  He shrugs, letting the towel drape against his broad shoulders, which may or may not be distracting.

Faster than a cat on a mouse, you force yourself to stop staring at him, and when you see Minho, there's an inquisitive expression on his gaze. He dismisses it quickly, relieving you.

"How's our work going?"

You clear your throat. "I'd finished checking them, maybe you want to see it first before we decide on the parts distribution."

"Sure."

And everything is awkward again.

Granted, it's not the most amicable atmosphere. Minho mumbles to himself, reading each point with focused eyes and not even minding your existence. After what seems like forever, he mentions a few slides that need to be double-checked, which extends your work time.

As the night heightens and the cold intensifies, you wish you were brave enough to break the ice.

Then, a loud yawn echoes in your ear.

"Can we continue this later?" Minho asks through more yawns. "It's like, almost 1 AM right now."

The time reminder doesn't quite surprise you. "Do you have morning classes?"

Minho checks his phone. "No."

"Then we're still doing this."

Your work partner groans, prompting you to hide a tiny smile at his antics. But suddenly, Minho raises his voice, startling you.

"Why do you hate me so much?" He snaps.

Something clenches in your stomach, and you force yourself to look into Minho's face on the screen. His eyebrows are furrowed, demanding answers which you are not sure you could provide.

"I don't."

"Then," he stops to hide a yawn. "Why?"

"I don't know." You pause. "But I don't hate you. Not at all."

His eyebrows shoot up, then he sighs.

“You’re just confused.”

“Yeah.” You pause. “I think I am… Like, really confused.”

Minho smiles in response, almost in relief. His eyes crinkle softly into crescents, like a drowsy pair of moons, and something within you softens at the sight. He should smile more often.

You quietly let out a relieved sigh on your own.

"Good. I'm taking a nap," he declares all of a sudden, standing up from his chair and ignoring your belated complaints. The camera view changes into something similar to a found footage movie, all shaky and blurry. Once it stabilizes, a sight of Minho clears up, showing him leaning back against a mountain of cushions and pillows on his bed. Then he sighs contently, the sound a little too soft in your ears.

But, he seems more comfortable on the soft bed. Unfair.

"Choi Minho, get back to the google docs or I'll - "

"You'll what? Mute my microphone?" A sleepy laugh. "I'm taking a nap. You and your ugly pajamas can suck it."

What the fuck.

"Excuse me? This is loungewear."

"Let me see." He laughs and you waste no time before adjusting your webcam to pan from your short sleeved top to the pants, all having the same pattern. They're cute, but from the way he frowns Minho doesn't seem too adoring of them.

"They're pajamas." 

"It's loungewear, you caveman." You pout.

His full lips curl in a sneer, then he speaks with a voice surprisingly lower than before.

"Well I do prefer sleeping with no clothes."

Your mouth shuts. After a moment too long of trying not to imagine your classmate in his choice sleepwear, you grunt, exasperated.

"Whatever gets you off." You sigh, but internally cursing at your choice of words. Minho grins.

"You mean whatever gets you off."

"Shut up."

"Then mute me."

You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Mute yourself."

You stare at the pixelated image of Minho on the screen and he mirrors your actions, with a gaze more intense and drowning. It's as if he's not going to let this go easily. You are expecting more snides, but instead, with relaxed stretches and sighs, he leans back against the mountain of pillows.

"Okay." He shrugs. "Wake me up in 10 minutes."

The effort to speak fails as your throat tightens and you wish to go out, visit his dorm and strangle him in person. But Minho's already closing his eyes, tiredness taking over the man fast. And finally, you can relax.

If you're in a better state, you would have raked your mind to see how the fuck you let Choi Minho affect your this much.

At some point, you check Minho's camera, and sneak a time to take in his features. You won’t deny his handsome face and glorious physique. A small face, doe eyes, plush lips, broad shoulders, long legs that’s just unfair - okay yeah he’s hot. But it never occurs to you he'd look this calm even while sleeping. Gone are the angry lines on his eyebrows, and the tense clench of his jaw, all that’s left is a serene face that you don’t mind talking about for hours - okay yeah he’s still hot even when he’s sleeping.

If only he weren't such an asshole when he's awake.

Returning to your work, you never notice the rustling noises from Minho's mic. So when you see the Zoom window, you let out a yelp, surprised at Minho's face on your screen, peering with inquisition.

He laughs, and oh, his voice is huskier now after a short amount of sleep. "Surprised?"

"Uh, has it been 10 minutes already?"

"Not yet, but I can't sleep. Not with you staring all the time."

"Says the man who’s been staring at me for god knows how long." You respond, because the best thing liars can do is turn the table on others.

And Minho doesn't even deny it.

"Oh, yeah, about that."

"What?"

"Nothing." The quick response combined with his avoidance doesn't convince you in the slightest, and one wary look from Minho says he's well aware of it. After a few awkward seconds, he relents.

"That top, it's kind of…" he trails off, fingers touching his own t-shirt hem to emphasize a point. You look down, and - oh. The top button had slipped off, hence the generous view of cleavage that caught Minho's attention.

But you're in no mood to be embarrassed.

"That's the way you style it." You spit the lie with oozing confidence on a high level of bullshit. "You got any complaints?"

Minho's eyebrows furrow, obviously not buying it, but more amused. He’s holding back a mischievous looking smile, and despite not liking it, you have to suppress a bubbling excitement. Excitement of what, you have absolutely no idea. Or rather, you refuse to acknowledge you have fun teasing Choi Minho.

"No, not at all. And (Y/n)?"

You only move your eyes, not enjoying the apprehension because what now? As he finds your gaze, he smirks.

"That loungewear does look good on you."

You’re out of words to respond. As you ignore the jolt in your stomach, you let him be smug, satisfied, and winning. You don’t care. 

However, minutes later, a small part of you relents and basks in the compliment in private, sharing little smiles to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho doesn't have his eyes on the presentation anymore.

+++

As late night approaches, your productivity wanes.

Minho is back on the pillows, playing on his phone while you both take a break. Swayed by the night air and your sore back, you're now sitting on the bed too, but still facing the desk which is right by the mattress. After the pajama accident, you decided to wrap yourself in blankets, and when Minho saw your cocooned form he laughed, voice like crackling fire. Truth to be told, your blankets turn cold in comparison to the warmth he exuded.

The train of thoughts grinds to a halt when Minho chimes.

"Done for tonight?"

The honest and spontaneous answer would be a yes, it's done and we can now sleep and rest. But the hazy night lulls you further into a state of daze, making you wonder of the unthinkable.

"I still want to look something up. You can leave though, it's fine." Hook, line -

"Let me hang out with you for a bit."

Sinker.

What are you doing?

Silence stretches, and you're positive Minho is doing that stare again, the one that is construed as smoldering.

"Not too feisty late at night, are you?"

Minho has left his pillows, now sitting upright and staring directly at the camera - at you. There you decide confidence looks fucking good on Choi Minho.

"You know what they say, nothing good happens after 2 AM." You avert your gaze from his burning ones, and it's bold of you to assume you could escape.

"Oh? Any cautionary tales?"

"Not exactly." You hum, "Maybe unfiltered conversations?"

"That can be fun, though. It's like you're drunk, but with no alcohol." He rambles. You take notice of the sway in his sentence and open the Zoom window to check your partner. Despite the dim light, you can see the way his eyes droop with sleepiness, along with his messy mop of dark hair, and it's rather adorable.

"I think someone's guilty of that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, there's no booze here." He offers a crooked grin and the expression turns into a thoughtful one. "Do you drink?"

"What's it to you?"

He shrugs. "Just curious."

"Sometimes." You finally say.

There's a moment of silence before Minho rustles in his bed, sitting with crossed legs and scooting closer to the camera. When he speaks again, the volume is louder, startling you.

"Do you remember Kibum's party? The one on the weekend after Valentine's Day?"

"Oh God, that one was a bit too much."

"Agreed." He chuckles, low and nostalgic. He scratches the back of his head. "Thanks for helping me out back then."

You're barely able to hide the surprise on your face, and Minho answers the unsaid question for you.

"I remember. I was drunk, but I remember you dragging me off." From the tone of his voice, he sounds sheepish, but so are you, because the revelation throws you off guard.

"No worries. Just… Don't do that too often."

He laughs. "You hate parties, don't you? I remember you were so grumpy before you left."

Hiding your face in your hands, you groan. "They can be too much."

"You don't sound like you always have a good time."

"Sorry if my dull life offends you."

"It's not dull, per se.” He waves his hands around as a gesture. “But it's why you're such a bummer."

"Again, sorry if you're not having a blast with me."

"Forgiven." A pause. "But, you know." A longer pause, and the silence starts to test your patience. "You can just ask me. I provide spectacular good times."

Respectfully, you give him a side eye.

"Right now I can give you a whole different testimony."

"To be fair, we're doing homework. But… I can do better." He leans in closer, pupils dilating with an emotion you are afraid to iterate, furthering your confusion.

"What are you on about?" You minimize the Zoom window, an effort to return to your task at hand. From Minho's side, there's nothing but the sound of breathing, but when he speaks, his voice deepens.

"I can do better than this. I can make you feel good."

You freeze, throat tightening as you're lost for words. There's no way to stop your mind from wandering uncontrollably. Afraid to see him, you avoid checking his face on the screen.

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, voice husky and more true to what he said.

"Like I said, all you have to do is ask."

Afraid to cross whatever line he's teetering on, you take one for the team, inhale, and take a step back.

"Then, can you shut up and let me do my work?"

Minho lets out a condescending laugh in response, like he's asking 'are you for real?' "Fine then. Let me know when that cursor starts moving."

Warmth rushes to your cheeks. It's tempting to blame the alluring night, but you know better than that.

And you should know better than to assume Minho would let this slide.

The awkwardness hangs in the air, blanketing the both of you with tension. You suppose this could push him away, making him sign off and do his thing - which, you don't want to imagine. But no. Instead, Minho is now lounging on his bed. And now you know, the more comfortable Choi Minho is, the more forward he becomes.

"Why won't you let yourself loose?" He asks all of a sudden, five minutes of silence brings him to the edge of his new found glory. Minho scratches his dark hair like he’s frustrated.

You snap your head towards him in disbelief. But before you say anything, he continues with a slightly raised tone.

"Like, come on, (Y/n). We're in university. You can have some fun."

"Doesn't seem worth my time."

"I can be worth your time, if you let me."

"This again?" You sigh. "What do you want from me, Minho?"

Another silence, and this time, you regret the question. From the corner of your eyes, Minho is getting up from his position on the bed to lean in, face uncharacteristically serious.

“I know you know exactly what I want.” He begins. “And I see the way you look at me.”

There's no teasing, just a plain observation. Those words alone kick your heartbeat into a stuttering mess. Despite the urge to confirm, there's still hesitation. You don't want to give in. Not to him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You internally curse when your words come out too breathy, and Minho definitely notices, judging by the crooked smile adoring his lips.

"Aren't you tired of teasing yourself like this?" He asks, languid and all knowing. "Why are we still here? Our work is done. You stopped typing ten minutes ago."

"Okay, that's it. We're done for today." You cut him off, closing your docs to prove a point. But it doesn't deter him in the slightest.

"No, we're not." He says with a finality, sleep gone from his voice.

Because without the presentation and all other student responsibilities, you're just two young adults who forget nothing good will come out this late at night.

And, despite the virtual presence, he still manages to corner you, and string you along into his game. 

Perhaps, you let him do so.

"You don't know how tempting you look right now." He whispers, making shivers run down your spine. Checking your camera view, you find out your blankets had fallen off, now sitting on your lap while your skewed pajamas look rumpled and, once again, revealing too much of your skin. With your messy hair and dazed eyes, you can understand why Minho would say that. You look fucked out. And there's no action - not yet.

So you try again, "Minho - "

"I like that look on your face."

You scoff, then try again. "Like I want to strangle you?"

"No. Like you want me to strangle you."

And that's when you know you can't try your way out of this situation. A jolt of arousal unwittingly shocks your body and Minho sees enough of your expression before flashing you a knowing smile. "What's on your mind?"

"...Nothing." You answer a beat too fast.

"You're thinking about me, aren't you?"

"That's - that's enough. Aren't you tired?"

"Not really. Why don't you tire me out?"

"If doing a presentation with me didn't do shit, I don't know what will."

"You just won't back down will you?" Minho's form on the screen shuffles, adjusting his position to lean back against the headboard. "Can't say I don't like it though." Then, a low sigh startles you, and your eyes grow wide.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Helping you out."

Unfortunately, he's not. He's laid on the bed, leaning back with his legs stretched out, a hand lazily stroking his own thighs. And it's a sight you can watch forever.

"How does touching yourself help me out, Choi?"

"You're too tense," he says in between grunts, earning more reaction from your traitorous body. "Be thankful I'm showing you how to relax."

"You're a goddamn pervert."

"And you like it."

"Fuck, why would I - do you actually think your naughty little words will work on me? Try again."

There's blazing confidence in his eyes, as if he's holding all the cards and you're left in the dark.

"Challenge accepted, beautiful.”

He continues to tease himself as he stares at your form in the camera, hands getting closer to his crotch.

"You can tell me to stop."

Before you can say anything, he reaches low and begins to palm himself through the sweatpants. Even on camera, you can see the sizable tent. You unconsciously lick your lips, earning a mocking laugh from his end.

"You're drooling."

You throw a glare at him. "Fuck you."

"We can get to that later. But right now, can I continue, (Y/n)?"

The question surprises you as it offers your ticket to the way out, despite the expectation visible in Minho’s pleading eyes. You take a deep breath, sealing the deal.

"...You said you accepted the challenge."

And that's all Minho needs to exhale harshly, sounding more like a moan.

"I did, but can't you just - ah - do something?" The husky voice alone sends a wave of arousal to your core, and you instinctively snap your thighs together. A cloud of lust starts to muddle your brain, and you can't think straight anymore.

Of course Minho notices immediately.

"I saw it."

"You see nothing."

"You're a fucking menace." He grunts, and it sounds way more sexy than angry, like really sexy. With a hand still touching and exploring, he continues to sigh.

"A menace that makes you jerk off while zooming with me?" You can't help but tease, in which he moans in response instead of answering.

"Listen, we're both tired and I need this. So, fuck it."

In one swift movement, his hand dives into his briefs and grabs his cock by the hilt, at least from what you guess through the fabric. His mouth falls open in pleasure. 

"Godammit, Minho, you shouldn't - "

"Shhh… Let me have this." His hand speeds up and he closes his eyes, face scrunching in pleasure as he lets out sensuous noises that tempt you more until a whimper escapes your lips. You hear him chuckle.

"Care to join me? I bet you're already wet."

You force a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

"Then prove it."

“Do it yourself then.”

"Oh baby, if I were there, I would do more than that." You're frozen on the spot, anticipating his words. As he hears no complaint from you, he continues. "I could pull you down on my lap, just like that night in the library - "

"It was an accident." You protest, voice small and unsurprisingly ignored.

"- put my arm around your waist, and then I'd slip a hand underneath those pajama pants - loungewear." He laughs while correcting the words and you can’t help but join him incredulously.

At this point, you can only hear Minho's heavy breathing, or perhaps they were your own. You have no idea anymore, your brain muddled with desire and anticipation. His brown eyes slide to the camera, right at you.

"I wonder how wet you are beneath all that?"

For some reason, you still try. "Dry?”

"Wrong. You'd be soaking wet, and I just know you'd instantly jump as soon as I touched your panties." He explains nonchalantly, but then the haughty tone is replaced by something mocking and exaggerated. "But I guess I am the one who’s wrong."

"What?"

He ceases any movement on his part, and you find yourself disappointed. "If you're really not into this," he begins, voice breathy but there's impatience there that comes from the built up frustration. "Tell me to stop."

Everything halts in your brain. The erotic display gets to you too much until you can't even say a word. Instead, you zoom in on his arms, and how the muscles rippled when he stroke himself. The way his neck tenses, pronouncing his collarbones more. You even wonder if you would be able to see droplets of sweat on his temples if he was in front of you. As Minho grows more impatient, his eyebrows furrow.

He's absolutely gorgeous.

"Tell. Me. To. Stop.”

You swallow, helplessly and undeniably holding yourself back.

“What do you want, (Y/n)?” He focuses on you, chest heaving with each pant. Only now you see how desperate he is.

"Minho…" You let out, brain short-circuiting with lust.

“Yeah, baby? Tell me. You want the same thing as I do?” Whatever he sees on the screen makes him start moving again. His hand finds his shaft again, and he moans loudly. "You want to feel good? I can make you feel good, I can help you out.”

With every word, you wish you can say yes, yes, and yes. Instead, with a sharp intake, you finally say meekly, “Tell me what to do.”

You hear Minho murmur some curses before turning to you.

“Get that blanket away. I want to see you.”

Nervously, you reposition yourself, taking the blanket aside and you hold the urge to sigh as the scratchy fabric grazes your hot skin. You're already oversensitive and you haven't even started yet. Minho is staring at you through the camera, shameless with his want and impatience.

“Touch yourself, baby. Start with your tits.”

With shaky fingers, you start by caressing your chest. Online video meetings are peculiar because there's always a delay before the other party reacts to what you do. In that short window of time, doubt arises. You wonder and think how this happens. But then, Minho lets out a guttural moan, the sound akin to someone who's about to reach his climax.

And the surge of confidence crashes to you like a wave.

"I'm just touching my tits and you're gonna cum already?" You ask with a smug smile.

Minho pays no mind to your comment, instead he scoots closer to the laptop. "Shit, you're actually doing this. Now we're talking."

"Just this one time." You hurriedly find your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your clothes, wincing with pleasure. "I need this too."

"Yeah? Show me how much you need this. Take off that shirt.”

God, now that you're not lying to yourself and to Minho there's a relentless urge to seek more pleasure. And the thought of Minho seeing you masturbate lights a fire in your stomach.

So you unbutton your top, slow and deliberate to tease the man on the other end of the application. Because that's what he deserves. You hear an exasperated "Hurry up," before a smirk graces your lips for a change. As you shrug off the shirt, you already know his eyes are glued to the sight of your skin.

"God, that body…" He trails off. "You're so fucking hot."

"Likewise." You sigh as your hand slips under the waistband of your pants. "Dammit, I can't believe this."

He chuckles, delirious but still tantalizingly sexy.

"You know what to do. Go and touch that pussy for me."

His assertiveness flicks a switch inside you. Letting out a shuddering sigh, you move backwards further, making sure everything you do will be captured with your web camera. Then, you pull open your legs at a traitorous slow movement, pulling more curses from Minho.

"Touch it." He orders.

You obey him and tug your panties aside to touch your core directly. The contact makes you moan, and Minho knows he's getting what he wants. And so are you.

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"S-shut up."

"You're drenched, I just know it."

He's right, and your head spins with relentless want. Imagining that voice speaking directly to your ear, soft lips grazing your skin as his hand travels south, leaving fire in its trail.

Like your hand is his, you continue rubbing your body, even spreading your legs more, as if he's right there as your audience. You pull your pants down, letting it pool on one of your ankles, before raising one leg slightly to find the angle that gives you the most pleasure.

As you hear wet sounds in your ear, you return your gaze to the screen to enjoy the sight. Minho had his pants removed properly as well, and he has one hand gripping his stiff cock, which has a sheen from what you assume is his own precum. God, the whole visual on your screen is such a sin.

"Shit." You can't help but say, and Minho only laughs in response.

"You're allowed to imagine me fucking you, don't worry." He teases, lips curling into a sneer, and considering the situation, it looks devilish and way too seductive.

With a shaky breath, you scoff.

"Is that what you're thinking? What, fucking me from behind?"

"Not from behind, baby. I want to see your face as my cock pushes in you for the first time."

You hiss as you slide your fingers in your pussy, scrunching your face with ecstasy, and fuck, Minho's into it, because he even stops to take a proper look at you and the way you pleasure yourself.

"Enjoying the view, Choi?" You challenge, and he gulps.

"I wish I could be there, watching you fuck yourself with your fingers."

"Are you sure - ah - you can just stay there and watch?" Your fingers already feel so good dragging against your walls and you want to know how it feels to have his thick cock inside you.

He smirks.

"I can be patient, baby. I can watch you all day."

"Why don't you help me out?"

"Oh? What do you want me to do?"

You groan. "You know…" 

"What? Use your words, (Y/n)." Minho stops only to look at you straight from his camera, eyes almost begging. And you fall for it.

"I want your fingers in me."

He hums, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

"Mmhm. Keep touching yourself, baby girl. What else do you want?"

You groan at the nickname, feeling more wetness now inside you. In a daze, you manage out in between gasps.

"I need you to fuck me."

"What was that?"

"Minho, fuck me, please." You say as you add another finger, pushing inside your drenched pussy, making you moan your words.

"Oh baby, you're so cute begging me like that. I'm gonna fuck you hard, you hear me? You will be shaking and crying when I'm done with you."

You're whimpering, hands still furiously sliding in and out of your wet folds as you watch Minho throw his head back in immense pleasure. He's loud - groans and moans fill your ear, and the sounds coming from him are so lewd, and wet. 

He's going to be the death of you.

There's a moment when you soak in each other's voices, each moan and squelch increasing your pleasure instead. Minho, dark eyes so clouded with lust it's clear even through the screen, demands another question to you.

"What do you want, (Y/n)? Tell me what you want to do to me."

Oh, you don't even know where to start. Flooded with many scenarios, you answer him with the first thing that comes to mind.

"I want to ride your face." You admit sheepishly, only to earn a low chuckle from the other side.

"Shit, that's hot. I wish you were here. I - " another low grunt. "I would have you sitting on my face, my tongue lapping your cunt as you scream out my name. I bet you taste like honey. You're going to grab my headboard, my fingers stuffing your mouth because I know you're going to be loud, aren't you baby?"

As if following his command, you whine out a "yes", voice high pitched and it sounds utterly pathetic. 

With two fingers pushing in and out of your cunt deliciously, your other hand joins to rub your clit, and you hiccup a moan.

"Minho, please I want your cock inside me," you cry out, drowning in the euphoria of lust. All because of him, only him.

"Me too, baby, me too. I want to fuck you all day long. I want to take you in our classroom. Would you like that, huh? After class ended, I could just bend you over the desk and have my way with you."

You won't even deny how much wetter you get after imagining all his words. Public sex doesn't usually excite you much, but this is Minho, and everything with Minho sounds exhilarating and turns you on like hell. Your breath becomes shakier, and everything is intense. You can't feel your hands anymore.

"I'd like that. Hell, you can take me at the student center for all I care."

Minho, ever the sadist, sneers. "I knew it. You like having an audience huh? How about the next time we visit you sit on my cock? I bet you're going to have a hard time shutting up."

A gasp. "Like you're any better, you're freaking loud."

"Don't blame me, I bet your pussy will be so tight around me." He groans, enjoying his own imagination as he continues to pump his cock. "God, this feels so good. Touch your tits for me, baby."

You do as he says, enjoying the jolt of pleasure coming from pinching your nipples.  As Minho keeps encouraging you, your breath quickens, tensing up as your climax approaches fast. 

"Keep going - shit I need to taste you when you cum. Are you close? I'm so close."

"Minho," you moan, words slurring. "I'm so close, too. Fuck, I need your cum inside of me."

"Shit, (Y/n) - "

"I would hold you with my legs and I wouldn't let you go until you fill me up." There’s no more filter so you keep rambling, and before you know it you hear Minho groaning loudly. You check on the screen to see him cum, ropes of white getting onto his bed sheets. Not expecting him to cum first, you let out a delirious laugh. Minho catches you, still panting from his afterglow. He looks gorgeous -

And dangerous.

"You want to be filled, don't you?" He begins, voice still stuttering, but low and immediately freezing you in place. "You want my cum so bad you actually beg for it."

Your breaths pick up in pace.

"I don't think you're done yet. Get that hand working."

You grumble a word or two before resuming to touch your body, hands shaking with heightened pleasure. You hold back a hiss as you touch your stiff nipples, and continue to push in two fingers in your pussy.

"Faster, (Y/n). Rub that clit for me."

Biting your lip, you do as he says and feel the approaching climax. As you gaze at the screen, Minho has a hand propping his head as he looks at you with a challenging expression, like he's waiting for you to fall.

"What else do you want, baby? You want more of my cum? Want me to fill you up until you get knocked up?"

"Ah!" You slip, hands pinching your swollen nub too hard, but that's all Minho needs. With half lidded eyes, he peers at you, like he’s proud of the new discovery.

"Oh, look at you. You're enjoying this."

"N-no, I'm not," you breathe out, sounding too much like a moan.

"Yes you are."

The humiliation burns but not in the right place, it ignites a new flame inside your belly, and you can feel yourself clenching on your own fingers.

"I'm - I'm so close."

“Yeah? You wanna cum? You wanna squeeze my cock with that tight pussy, and make me fill you up?” He presses and presses, voice low as a whisper but all the words shoot straight to you like an arrow. Your breath grows more shallow, and you’re starting to see white behind your eyes.

“Yes, please. Please Minho, please - “

"Go on, cum for me, (Y/n)."

Like a tight string that is cut, you snap and release with heightened senses, all pleasure that washes over you.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He murmurs with eyes looking at your panting self.

Your chest heaves with short breaths, and you let it slow down as you lean back into the pillows in your bed. You take a peek at your wet and shiny fingers in disbelief, giggling at the sight.

At the sound of your laugh, Minho joins in. "Damn, that was fun." Minho grins, the adrenaline seeping through the way he smiles. He leans in closer to the camera, eyes going all over. “I think we need to clean up, huh?”

You hum nonchalantly, but you notice your breath is not getting any slower. The thought hits you hard. You just masturbated with - in front of -

“Thank god I have no morning class, I need some good sleep after that.” He yawns, but then he gives another soft smile. “I wish you were here though, a cuddle would be perfect.”

The vision of both of you cuddling on your bed soothes your mind for a bit. You just know he’d be a great cuddler, and for some reason, it sounds nice. Lovely, even.

“Hey, after class you wanna grab dinner?”

After class. You will be meeting Minho, the person you just masturbated with, only in a few hours. Then you will present your work together.

Like a freight train, the embarrassment slams you in the face. You can't even say a thing, mouth only gaping open soundlessly, but you notice your heartbeat kicking abnormally in your ribcage, the sound starting to invade your senses.

"(Y/n), you okay?" Minho’s voice cuts through the racing thoughts in your mind. Gosh, he really does have tender eyes. He looks so worried, and genuine.

But your panic wins.

“I - I need to - I need to go - “

“Hey, tell me what’s - “

You never hear him finishing his sentence, because you already leave the meeting without saying another word.

+++

Despite knowing how much this presentation is worth for your grades, you want nothing more than to bury yourself in the nearest soil. And obviously, it’s not because you lack sleep. Because surprisingly, after that incident, you manage to sleep.

Probably because orgasms can make you that tired.

"Oh my, look at her, she's still alive!"

Barely, you think as Kibum walks to your seat, a sleepy Jonghyun in his trail, looking like he just woke up from a nap. Afternoon classes can either grant you extra nap time, or give you the most unfocused study time in the whole day.

In your case, without your morning classes, you can catch up with your needed sleep.

"Hey there, Kibum, Jjongie."

"You shouldn't be here. One of you must've dropped the class." The male with platinum hair gasps. "Minho dropped this class, didn't he?"

"What? No one's dropping the class." You groan, to which Jonghyun shouts in victory, startling you but not Kibum.

"You owe me 10 bucks."

"Whatever," Kibum rolls his eyes. "We still have one more run."

"Yeah but that's - "

You glare at them both. "You made bets?"

"Taemin put 30 on you dropping the class."

"Me? Dropping classes?” You almost shout, which makes Jonghyun cringe in understanding.

"Yeah he's not the brightest."

"See? It's more probable to have Minho leave." Kibum insists.

"Listen, Minho and I - "

"Me and (Y/n) are what?"

You freeze, recognizing the voice that lulls you to the peak of pleasure only a few hours prior. The blurry images of last night resurfaces in your mind, just like on the screen. You keep staring at the other way, not knowing how you will keep your expressions in check as soon as you see Minho.

"She’s not lying, you're still alive!"

Minho raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Of course I am, what would she do to me, kill me?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Jonghyun chimes in, getting a laugh from Minho. The latter suddenly takes a seat beside you, and though you still hesitate to face him, you can smell his cologne that almost immediately makes your brain short-circuit.

“So you both actually managed to finish the assignment?” Kibum asks, his head turning from you to Minho. You have no choice but to turn to your partner, and he’s already smirking at you.

“We did. Not without sacrifices, though.” The taller male answers, looking at you with unmistakable fire in his eyes. You hold the urge to glare at him but only nod and force a smile in agreement.

“Huh.” Jonghyun murmurs, almost like an encouragement for both of you to elaborate more. But Kibum already cuts him off.

“Man, professor Lee will have a field day - “

"I probably will.” The said professor chimes in, making Kibum shout and the class laugh. “That's enough, Kim Kibum. Now let's start the class. Today's the presentation day, yeah? Let's begin with Sungjae's group."

Minho stays sitting down on your left side, leaving Kibum and Jonghyun bickering over some badly designed presentation slides from the others. As your eyes meet Minho's dark ones, the noise around you fades away, and you're left with a tight feeling in your stomach.

"Are you ready?" He asks and you jolt in surprise at how calming his eyes are to you. So you just grin, letting yourself relax. Because despite everything, you know you’ll get the presentation part right. 

"Of course." Your smile grows wider as you find the need to push his buttons further. "I hope you slept well."

He smirks. "Couldn't ask for a better rest."

In the end, despite Minho keeps bumping into you, or his hand lingering on yours as you click on the next slide, or him giving you that weird stare publicly, the presentation goes surprisingly well.

Professor Lee compliments the presentation you both give, even mentioning how this might be the first time the two of you are on the same side, and it creates great results, detailed and insightful. Minho manages to look smug and say, “She just took control of the situation, that’s all we need.”

You almost choke.

As soon as the class is dismissed, you know exactly what Minho is going to do.

“Hey, (Y/n) - “

“I need to talk to you.”

Minho’s eyes widen in surprise when you say it at the same time, then the surprise look melts into a goofy grin, like he’s relieved. You mirror it unconsciously.

“Sure, wanna go somewhere?”

As you both bask in each other’s presence, you don’t notice Kibum and Jonghyun staring intensely when you leave the class side by side. Kibum nudges the brunet curiously. 

"They seem different, don’t they?”

"But did you see? Minho is clearly eye-fucking her."

Kibum smirks. “I win.”

“Fuck you.” Jonghyun groans in realization, preparing his wallet.

+++

The walk back to Minho’s dorm room is in silence. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but you still prefer a lighter situation with the tall male by your side. He seems to understand the hesitance, or rather, he prefers to wait until you start.

So when you sit down on his couch, shoes, and bag discarded neatly, you know the ball's on your court.

As you will yourself, Minho only stares at you longingly. He can’t believe you’re here in his room, although not in his bedroom but his common room instead (he internally cheered when he opened the door and saw no roommate to be found). Yes, he has questions regarding your actions on him last night, but he has a strong guess, and he just can’t wait to have it confirmed.

You always drive him crazy, and it makes him mad that you shared such a moment last night but it doesn’t guarantee him to get to know you more. Or having you more.

“So.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, perking him up.

“Yeah?” He immediately pushes. Patient, Choi.

“I think we did great just now.”

Minho can’t help but bark a laugh. “Seriously? We fucking did, though.” He begins proudly, earning a pretty smile from you. “Never heard him compliment students so bluntly.”

“Right?” You scoot closer to him, now your knees touching. “I guess something good comes out of this.”

He takes the chance and puts himself on your eye level. “Only that?”

Your eyes widen, shyness taking over as your reply, “Well, not only that.”

Realizing now you both are on the same page, Minho presses even further. "Mm-hm?"

The girl beside him finally sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Minho replies truthfully. “But what happened?”

“I just panicked, you know. Dysphoria and all.”

And with that, his worries are confirmed. He understands that more than anything because those kinds of reactions after reaching climaxes are not uncommon.

“Hey,” he begins, hand reaching out to touch your knee. “I get it, it happens.” A pause. “I had it once, too.”

From the way you stare at him, he knows you’re surprised by the information. But he’s still teetering on the edge, so maybe next time he can indulge you in the story.

For now, he has more things to confirm.

“But did you regret it?”

“No!” You answer a tad too fast. “No, I didn’t.” You finally look him in the eye. “I really loved it.”

“Did you now?” He pushes, a smirk gracing his lips, and his anticipation grows rapidly.

You nod, slightly leaning in closer to his face. “And I’m also wondering if all you said were just words.”

Minho’s breath hitches, “Fuck. Should I prove you wrong again?”

Exceeding his expectations, you grab his hand which is sitting on your kneecap, then move it higher up your inner thigh. Then, you smile mischievously, the sight making Minho dizzy because damn, you’re way prettier in person than in those Zoom calls.

“If you want me that bad, sure.”

He groans. “Oh come on, you’re the one who suggested visiting my room.”

You laugh, and the sound is way too husky to be considered playful. Suddenly, but not surprisingly, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss, which makes Minho groan immediately.

Minho takes control of the kiss as soon as it starts, cupping your cheek in his palm, and holding your waist with his other hand, gripping them tightly and making you gasp. His tongue immediately invades your mouth, and god you taste so good -

“I’ve wanted to do this since forever.”

“Really?” You pant.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to finally have you all to myself.” He dives back in, devouring your lips and swallowing your whimpers. All his imagination from last night pales in comparison to this, to you actually being in his arms, making the sweetest sounds for his ears.

“I suggest - “ You begin with stuttering breaths after parting so suddenly, “We move to your bedroom.”

Minho smirks. “On it, baby.”

[blog-name-idk]

Untitled (Arranged Marriage!Yoongi) | Teaser

Pairing: Chaebol/CEO!Yoongi x Fem!Reader, Final!???? x Fem!Reader

Genre: Chaebol(ish)!AU, Arranged Marriage!AU, Yoongi is a big ol' butthead for a while, Humor

Summary: Your husband-to-be, Min Yoongi, is a beautiful, gorgeous, cruel asshole. And his friends are no better.

Word Count: 1.4k

Rating: 18+

AN: This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and is also 100% @hamsterclaw's fault for driving me insane with her Vows series. It's nowhere near finished and I don't actually have an estimated date to begin posting, but it IS his birthday so....

A special thanks to @madbutgloriouspond and @nabiolive for beta-ing what's been written so far! Love you both always and forever.

Also I HATE coming up with titles so this has none at the moment.

~~~~~

Your first impression of Min Yoongi is that pictures didn't do him justice. There are certainly worse men you could be marrying to get ahead in life, at least from a physical standpoint. If you had met him under other circumstances, you might have been ecstatic.

Unfortunately, your first meeting is to discuss the terms of your engagement and eventual marriage. So that's hiccup number one in terms of establishing some sort of relationship based on mutual affection and attraction.

Hiccup number two is that he is a massive asshole.

You sit wordlessly across from each other in glacial silence as you wait for him to say something, to look at you, to at least fucking acknowledge your presence. But he hasn't so much as glanced your way since your parents and lawyers left the conference room to "allow the new couple a chance to get to know each other," as if this is their idea of a cute first date.

You use the time to study the man you're expected to marry. He's objectively striking with flowing dark hair and smooth, pale skin that has you vaguely wondering about his skincare routine. He almost looks like a doll, and the deathly silence does nothing to dispel the image. Finally, you can't take it anymore.

"So, do you - "

"I'm going to make a few things clear," he cuts you off, and for the first time today he deigns to look you in the eye. His own are dark and beautiful, and the ice in his gaze is matched only by the cold, almost bored quality of his voice. You shut up, too shocked by his rudeness to do anything but stare back.

"I have no interest or desire to be married to you," he says bluntly, stunning you further. "I am doing this out of necessity. Publicly, we'll have to attend events together, but otherwise don't expect me to hold your hand or act like I'm your boyfriend. I have responsibilities that matter, and I don't need you wasting my time with frivolous activities."

It's like the frost radiating from his body is trying to wrap its icy tendrils around your throat, but the flare of irritation at his complete dismissal of you is enough to melt away its bite. Your mind flashes back to the information your investigator had gathered, because you're not stupid enough to agree to marry someone completely blind.

Min Yoongi, 28 years old, only son and heir to Min Hyunsuk, President of Hansol Group. No arrests or convictions on record - at least nothing that couldn't be paid away, probably. He had been speculated to be in a quiet, long-term relationship with his college sweetheart, Kim Yongsun, and his cruel words only add credence to the theory.

You're not an idiot. You weren't expecting some kind of soap opera romance where you and your fiance hit it off and fall madly in love. You would have been satisfied with someone who at least respected you and the partnership, who you could have sex with without wanting to vomit. Those are more than reasonable expectations for a transactional relationship in which both parties are supposed to be benefitting.

Director's boards always seem to think a married man is more reliable than a bachelor, despite half of the assholes having mistresses on the side. You have a niggling feeling that there's some sort of agreement between Yoongi himself and his father, one that stipulates marriage with someone "suitable." Apparently, Yoongi's ex didn't meet his family's standards.

You might have felt bad for the man if he wasn't acting like such a colossal prick before so much as a single hello. Boo-fucking-hoo, he has to marry you instead of the girl he loves. Well, he's the one who made the choice for himself, not you.

You've honed many skills and talents over the years. One of them is being petty to a fault.

So you put the brightest, sweetest smile possible on your face, and for the first time today he wears an expression other than annoyance or bored indifference. He looks surprised.

"As you wish, dear fiance," you reply, saccharine sugar dripping from your voice like poison. "I will put all of my efforts into not inconveniencing you."

His eyes narrow at your tone, but before he can reply, your parents return. You bid a polite farewell, taking great glee in pressing a chaste kiss on Yoongi's cheeks as he gives you a murderous stare, and leave with your father.

"That went very well," he says as you exit the tall glass building, looking satisfied.

"Yes, Yoongi was very charming," you agree pleasantly, resisting the urge to scream when your father nods. He probably wouldn't care if Yoongi hit you behind closed doors as long as it didn't come to light or jeopardize the family name. Or the company's stock prices.

"I'm glad you've finally come around," your father says proudly as your driver pulls up and opens the door for the two of you to get in. "This is the best way you can help our family."

Yeah, I went to business school overseas so I would be a more favorable marriage option to some rich asshole, you think sourly, adjusting the skirt of your dress beneath you so it wouldn't wrinkle. You fucking idiot.

"Of course, father," you reply docilely, folding your hands in your lap as you turn to stare out the window. It galls to swallow down the words you really want to say, but you've long since learned to save your breath.

Besides, it's easier to maneuver when people underestimate you.

~~~~~

One month and one staged set of proposal pictures later, you're having an ostentatious engagement party so Yoongi can show off his new fiancee. Wait fuck that and fuck him, he's attending as your fiance.

Neither of you are particularly interested in the event, but hell hath no fury like a set of parents who want to show everyone how picture perfect their kids' lives are. And by extension, their own.

You idly wonder if he'll be able to pull off even a modicum of boyfriend behavior, considering he's been just as standoffish every other time you've seen him since that horrible first meeting. He'd once rolled his eyes when you had the audacity to ask how his family was doing, because fuck you for trying to make the best of what's rapidly becoming an incredibly painful situation.

So, because you know it infuriates him, you always greet him with a hug and a kiss he has to reciprocate because others are watching. The veiled fury in his eyes is the only thing that gets you through the meetings.

Plus he has quite kissable lips, which you discovered during the obligatory kiss picture during the proposal shoot. It had actually been quite pleasant to be cradled in his arms, his soft rose petal lips pressed against yours. At least, until you remembered who was holding you.

You're inspecting the finishing touches on your hair and makeup when your phone buzzes.

Yoonyoon I'm here. Hurry up.

God he is such a dick. Giving his phone contact a stupid nickname was the best idea you'd ever had.

You Of course, babe <3

He doesn't respond, of course, and you slip on your heels before leaving your apartment and taking the elevator down. Your eyes fall on the sleek, dark gray car in front of the building and you make your way towards it.

Yoongi is on his phone, and he doesn't even bother to look up when you enter the passenger's seat.

"Took you long enough," he says boredly, as if you hadn't left your unit as soon as you got his message. You take a deep breath and count to ten before pasting a smile on your face.

"Sorry babe, I just wanted to look good for you," you coo obnoxiously, relishing in the way his lips purse together in irritation. He turns to face you, face irate.

"I thought I told you not to - " he shuts up abruptly, eyes widening slightly as he takes you in. His gaze flickers down your body before it settles back to your face, and he looks stunned, like he's never seen you before.

Actually, now that you think about it, this might be the first time he's really looked at you. The night of your engagement party. How hilariously sad.

"Something the matter?" you ask, half expecting him to tell you you look like shit. Your voice seems to snap him back to his senses, and he turns forward again, foot hitting the gas so hard your back thumps into the leather back of your seat.

Asshole.

~~~~~

[silenceaartist]

TYSM MD 💙

Well, I think I've already spilled a lot of frustrations here and since I want to leave the high spirits for episode 8, let's have a session of positivity

Well, I think MD was the first media that really touched me, I mean, there's R&C but I think that with MD it was scaled to a different level. I've never been so invested in a story and characters like this before, I love watching every video, theory, topics, discussions and in general everything involving these silly robots. It was also when I started socializing with more people (because I can't be social even on the internet 😭) and I even made some mutuals with that

I spent entire afternoons reading huge posts about small details, character studies, ship analysis and etc and I'll never get tired of it. I don't think any of us stopped to think about how much this creative and chaotic fanbase gets out of a rushed show of 8 episodes and that just shows the rush that each of us has with the show.

I think it's a bit quick to say that the fanbase will suddenly end, yes, the content has decreased and some will look for new interests, but I think the best part of "fandom culture" is that all media only ends when the last fan takes their last breath through fanfics, fanarts, discussions, AUs, fanmade projects, etc. If you contribute something, your creation will be recorded forever in this digital universe (or in someone's distant memory lol) and can always be appreciated/remembered by someone new enjoying the show after it ends or you remembering the old times.

The series will be immortalized forever, you can enjoy it however and wherever you want, alone or with a group of friends on a movie night.

Anywy, idk what I wanted when I wrote this text, I think I just want good vibes, I will continue in the fandom because I am faithful to my obsessions and I will not forget them for a long time. It will sound stupid but thank you Liam for having created such an incredible universe and such charismatic characters in such a short time, it may not be the most popular show but I am sure that it will have marked many people like me, and I think that no popularity can pay for that <33

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[magicianapprenticelyra]

Actor AU: Season 2 [Asra Alnazar]

Credit for the basis of the AU goes to both @lightvsdark18 and @lynmay-arcana.

[Original Link] | [Additional Link]

O*O*O

[Season 1: Nadia Satrinava] | Season 2: Asra Alnazar

Asra Alnazar—Behind the Scenes & On Set Happenings/Shenanigans

[Not long before the finale of Nadia’s season, the producers got word that Season 2 and Season 3 were greenlit! There was a lot of celebration to be had, but oh dear—there are more than several difficulties for Lyra and Asra in this season].

While it’s handy for Asra and Lyra to have known each other previously, shooting Season 2 with their roles as romantic characters became unexpectedly difficult.

[More under the cut!]

Here’s how the filming of this season went:

When it was announced that Asra and Lyra were going to be Season 2′s couple, rumors and fan theories were allllll over the place.

Some people that ‘shipped’ the actors before thought it was going to become a Showmance and become IRL ‘Canon’.

This made Asra and Lyra wildly, wildly uncomfortable.

It got so difficult to film together that it had to be discussed between the producers, the director, and the actors on whether or not to recast Asra.

He was having the worst of it, getting harassed by ‘fans’ and strangers alike over his and Lyra’s history in the past.

In lieu of this, Season 2 was delayed by a year because of it, nevermind all the reworking of the budget in order to afford all of the magic/water magic that’s going to appear on screen.

They used practical effects as much as possible.

Asra and Lyra rarely spent any time together outside of the set.

If they did ever spend any time together, it was usually with a group setting with mutual friends/they placed themselves far, far away from each other.

Paparazzi was almost always around them and ravenous for any hints of a relationship blossoming between the two of them.

It got to a point where Asra and Lyra needed to hire lawyers to get people to cease and desist.

It seemed to finally do the job, but their friendship would never be the same.

Initially, 80% of scenes where Asra and MC kiss have the camera pan away.

Kissing scenes were so difficult for them to work with that it got to the point to need body doubles to replace them when filming.

Asra: “Seriously the amount of kisses that had to be scrapped—”

Lyra: “It was bad. It was bad.”

Their favorite scenes to shoot together were when Asra and MC did magic together or when either of them would be ‘floating’.

The wire-work was exhilarating for Asra, but it took time for Lyra to adjust due to motion sickness and a slight fear of heights.

Their reactions to each other’s Masquerade outfits when filming that changing scene was genuine.

Despite the fact they’ve seen each other in their Masquerade outfits before, they really did get a kick out of seeing each other in it again.

The people both Asra and Lyra relied on the most—aside from their therapists and families—would end up being their fellow cast members.

Lucio often would set up playdates with Mercedes and Melchior with Lyra’s French Bulldog, Buddy.

The stray popped randomly onto set from the street back when Season 1 was wrapping up in filming.

The little guy got cornered and hid under Lyra’s trailer, whimpering and whining. It took the workers from the animal shelter hours to get him out of there to be looked over.

Lyra adopted him before he was set to be put down, and basically made sure everything in her home/trailer on set would be doggy safe.

Muriel took them out on day trips hiking on some land that he owned in a remote area.

Lyra has pictures in pages and pages of photo albums back at home.

Asra picked a lot of mushrooms and has a few cuts of his own growing back at his own place.

Nadia treats them both with spa days.

Lyra, unfortunately, is allergic to most makeup/beauty products, so she tends to stick with deep tissue massages/hot stone treatments.

That doesn’t mean she’ll say no to Asra painting her face/using makeup—that she’s not allergic to—on her face.

Portia treats them to a mix of movie/video game/etc. sort of nights, visits to cat cafés, museums, and so on.

There was a paintball thing once but after Ly’s glasses got shattered she swore off doing it again.

Water balloons filled with body-safe paint is definitely a go-ahead, though.

Julian has escape rooms, visits to hole-in-the-wall eateries, bars, secret gardens they break into on occasion visit. There’s a surprising amount of noir/Shakespearean/musical film nights at his place/designated meeting area.

A few times when filming the scene of Julian accusing Asra of being his accomplice in murdering Lucio, they used quotes from a number of different source material.

It always got Lyra laughing.

Filming Asra’s reunion with Aisha and Salim makes him tear up when recounting it.

Asra: “He’s been without them for over seventeen years. Seventeen. Years. Can you imagine what that does to a kid?! God . . .”

And that’s not even mentioning how MC’s supposed family was cut from the season, again, despite Lyra and said actors had a few flashback/flashing memory scenes filmed.

To say Lyra is getting irritated with it is putting it mildly.

At least those actors got paid for their time, though.

Asra, Lyra, Vulgora, and Nadia often lost it when Volta gagged or snuffled after she sniffs MC for the plague.

Volta felt awful when Asra and Lyra got into wheezing fits, but they reassured her that it was okay.

The scene where Asra and MC are compelled to sit in the ritual room was one of the most nerve-wracking for Lyra to sit through.

She ad-libbed the toast that MC gives to everyone in the room.

For reference, the paid scene version in that book.

Lyra: There were so many famous actors in that room. Nasrin, The Devil, Nadia, oh God there are too many . . .”

Once filming was all done, Asra and Lyra couldn’t stand being in the same room for a while.

It didn’t last too long. They’re still dear friends and all, but given what happened with the paparazzi they still get twitchy when they spend more than an hour or two together in public.

A lot of correspondence is done through snail mail, postcards, and video calls with the occasional text.

One of the most surprising things to come out of filming this series/season is that Lucio and Asra’s actors actually became friends.

Sure their respective characters hate each other to bits, but it’s a lot more fun when they’re memeing each other on set, online, and whatnot.

A few scenes that hit the cutting room floor are as follows:

Extended cuts of Asra and MC’s travels after the Masquerade.

[Concept of The Heist that ultimately got scrapped in the end].

MC meeting potential familiars.

They don’t pan out, but the concepts were there.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this as I had with writing it!

Next: [Julian Devorak]

[altugger]

ALTUGGER WEEK:

DAY 2 - SOFT

The idea of ​​how Alonzo and Tugger's friendship outgrew warm romantic feelings for each other in Soft AU

At first, Alonzo lived in Tugger's studio, it is difficult to call this really MUSICAL studio, there is usually only some trash and drums. From which he did not strongly believe that the tugger really had a group. He found plus or minus a good job, for which he was hired with a secondary education (a boy at 19! He finished 11 grades (he was taken at the age of 7 to the first grade and the final grade and exams he had to reissue, because not only him, and some of his friends, lost their answers to the exam and thought it was easy to say that they were not there. To the Lonzi family, he is already at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, so they believed that he was not there. Few friends' parents went because their children are not exemplary girls and boys. And they made up such a theory that Lonzi (who did not drink in life and was not going to) and his homies instead of the exam were boozing and wandering around the city. Actually, since childhood, Alonzo dreamed of a career as a dancer, but from the above, it was clear that his parents somehow * khe * UY. He no longer hoped to become a great dancer, but still wants to connect his life with dancing. Therefore, at the beginning he applied for courses dance, so that already with some the basis for applying to a higher educational institution is studying to be a choreographer! Well, or just a dance teacher. (He had good physical parameters and he was interested in the history and styles of dancing for a long time)

For a long time he was not going to stay with the tugger, and even closer he needs to move to the future plans of admission. The tugger group after the new year has not yet met all of January, there is the old new year, not before now). Tugger came to the studio only to hang out with lonzo, he already felt warm feelings for Alonzo, but did not realize it as falling in love. And Alonzo at this time was just happy to spend time with his friend, with whom he could be himself and not try to look "strong" in his eyes.

At the end of January, Alonzo found a financially acceptable place in the hostel and quickly moved from the studio (he does not want to be a burden to his friend) and so months passed. For Alonzo it is not so noticeable, he is all in the worries of fulfilling his desire and getting along in a beaten hostel. Tugger has no less worries, rehearsals, concerts and planning all this, boredom and nothing more! He missed his recently visiting friend, in the same city, but met only once or twice. He was not pleased with the communication in the social. network, he wanted live communication. So once he invited Alonzo to one of his concerts and spend the night at his apartment.

(to hang out more :))), if he does not live alone, but with Father Deuteronomy and brother Munkustrap often comes)

Alonzo agreed to come, after all from He was tired of these worries and it was a good offer to unwind at the concert.

Alonzo at the beginning did not believe Tugger's stories about his band.

(he thought he did this to seem so cool, but it turned out to be true)

And then Lonnie admired Tugger so modestly and wanted to learn more about his career as a musician. And Lonnie is such a tactile cat in fact, the tugger thought that he was flirting with him. So Tugger fell in love a little, and decided on a straight line so to speak .... Take the first step.

He looked at the bosom and so close ... When Alonzo noticed this, he said something like.

"what are you doing?"

And then Tugger seemed to have an insight, then he wanted to fail with shame.

....

And Tugger at that moment knew exactly that he was in love with Alonzo. After the concert, they went for a walk around the city, so nicely spent time together. In the end, when they were already near the entrance of the tuggi's apartment, he confessed his warm feelings for Alonzo. He was very nervous, he didn’t count on reciprocity.

He kept repeating

“if you don’t feel the same, I’m fine, I don’t insist,”

he could no longer keep it inside himself. Tugger was so afraid to ruin their friendship with this. Alonzo was shocked

(he lived half his life among even pots and didn't even think that he might like guys)

He stared at him and seemed to swallow his tongue, he just couldn't utter a word. He muttered that “let's discuss this later” and went to the front door. Tugger followed him, all red hesitating to open the door. He offered to arrange him in his room, once again apologized for what was at the entrance, and went to sleep in the living room, he could not be next to Alonzo, so he was to some extent ashamed and scared to ruin this sweet meeting for a long time. And so in the morning, without having breakfast, Alonzo was already going back to his hostel. Tugger, if he woke up, wanted to see him off and again at that ill-fated entrance they started a conversation, which Alonzo had already begun. He said that he felt the same for Tugger ,,, (do not forget he lived among even pots) He was afraid to start dating somehow, he was afraid of unnecessary attention or threats of beating. He did not want this not for himself, not for tugge. The tugger dared that everything mutually almost squealed with happiness (for him it is so funny, not a threat to life, these are his first mutual feelings for a guy) Well, here the tugger was a straight ram, he did not care about the danger, he just wanted to be with his favorite cat any at a price. And after Tuggi persuaded that everything would be fucked up, there are no such hopaks (and he would have protected him) that Tweedledum's love can also be tried. Alonzo nevertheless agreed to start their serious relationship and before leaving, he awkwardly pressed his lips to Tugger's cheek (that is, do not even count that he kissed, but just pressed himself, it was MAXIMUM OF AWKWARD FOR BOTH THEM, but Tugger was glad of this awkwardness xd)

[orestes-hungry-and-pylades-sober]

Les Miserables Stonewall AU

Just hear me out for a moment: Les Mis AU taking place in 1969 Manhattan. June, if we want to be specific. Why June? Stonewall.

So my school does these trips every few years that are always a big deal. A really big deal. As in, a month in the Galapagos Islands. It got canceled cause of covid but still, y'all get my point, right?

I also came across these two amazing drawings the other day. I don't know either of the artists so if you do, please let me know so that I can credit them. Not my art

The art and the trip gave me the idea. Because look, pretty much the entire fandom ships e/R. And then there's Courf and Ferre, and everyone else. I'll list them all later.

So we end up with les amis in Manhattan during the Stonewall riots and protests. Obviously, they're going to get themselves caught up in it, right?

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

There are two ways I might want to go with this. They're both good and they could both work out well but I'm not sure which one I'd rather use.

    1) they're just all students at the same university who happen to be going on the trip together. Obviously, some of them would already know each other (like R has been completely in love with Enj for years) but realistically, you don't know everyone who goes to your school

    2) all of them are part of the drama/theatre club. This one might work out in the sense that they're all going to Broadway to watch a performance or perform themselves (Phantom maybe?), and that the theatre club has become an accidental hidden magnet for closed queers. Tbh that's what it's like at my school and why I'm in drama.

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And here are basically all of the character roles.

Enjolras - Social equality/civics minor. He hasn't yet decided if he wants to pursue a higher degree in the same field or try something else. Often in detention or something because he gets into fights all the time. If he sees a bully picking on a kid, he will not hesitate to kick the bully's ass into next week. He's that one person that you'd go to if you had a problem, kinda like a school vigilante. A girl being harassed? Talk to Enjy and the man will never bother her again. He organizes a bunch of rallies and protests for what he believes in. Should've probably been suspended or expelled a while ago, for all the people he's hurt, but the teachers and school board know why he does it and know that he keeps the other students safe. Still manages to get really good grades, as long as he gets a bit of help from Ferre or Courf (and they're glad to help him study or smth)

Grantaire - slightly sketchy fine arts and music double major. He's a composer and his music is beautiful, and so are his paintings, but while he's amazing in those classes, he's just barely scraping by in the more 'academic' classes he's taking. Everyone knows him as 'the problem kid' but not in the same way as Enjy. R gets into fights and stuff too, but not exactly for good reasons. Has a drinking problem and has turned up to class drunk on a few occasions. Always carries around a sketchbook. He's completely in love with Enjy, and while the two of them aren't exactly friends, Enj likes him a lot more than most of the other students, since he's actually taken the time to get to know Grantaire personally rather than just as 'that one drunk problem kid who's about to flunk out.' Really sarcastic and sassy.

Combeferre - (y'all, I said his name with the E at the end kinda like 'ferreh' for so fucking long before someone decided to say it rhymed with Javert). Philosophy minor, lit major. He's probably on the student representation board. That one kid that manages to be a total nerd who literally corrects the dictionary for fun yet is still one of the coolest kids in the school. Everyone seems to think he's cool and composed and calm, and they're not wrong, but he's mentally screaming the loudest of all of them when it comes to finals or something. He's a bit of a perfectionist and knows it, but he's also used to being able to easily pass his classes. How do I describe this... he's outwardly composed but internally a mess. A lot of kids known as 'the smart one' who are overachievers and have teachers who praise their work, etc, are. Internally screaming 24/7. Believe me, I know what it's like.

Courfeyrac - he's the only mutual friend of everyone in the group. He's a literal ray of sunshine and always will go out of his way to say hello to someone and ask how they're doing that day, and check up on someone who's looking down. He's really good with kids and people in general. Might run a tutoring group or something because I've always thought he'd make a really good teacher. (Just imagine Courf as an elementary school teacher or something. Carrying little kids around on his shoulders, helping them with art projects, and hanging them up all over the classroom. He'd be kind and patient and funny and everyone would love him. Just- elementary teacher Courf). Best friends with Combeferre. Probably Jvj's aide or TA or something.

Marius - I think we all know him. He just Pontmercys his way through university and has a massive crush on this one girl who sits across the aisle from him in one of his classes. She's pretty and brave and smart and outspoken, and he admires her. Eponine, his good friend, sees this crush and convinces him to talk to her. He has a brilliant idea to ask her for help with homework and just botches up the entire thing and kinda embarrasses himself, (cue Eponine facepalming in the background) but she thinks it's sweet, and they end up becoming friends.

Eponine - honestly I don't know what I want to do with her. I know she's another student on the trip, but I only have the vaguest ideas of how she fits into the group, and even that is more of a vibe, rather than something I can put down in words. Used to have a sister that her parents often abused and used. Ponine did her best to shelter Cosette from their parents, but she didn't always succeed. However, she was able to get help and get her sister taken away. Their parents turned on Ponine instead. Her little brother ended up running away, but she wasn't able to. Eventually, she stops going home at night, sleeping at school instead. Professor Valjean found her outside his classroom one time when he finally left at like 2 in the morning after being stuck there grading papers. He ended up taking her home with him.

Cosette - Eponine's "sister". I will insist on these two getting along and being best friends, regardless of how you want to interpret their canon relationship. Imma just call them sisters, since they were raised that way. Eventually, she's taken away from the abusive household she lived in as a child. Soon she was sent to be fostered with a man who later became a university professor. Much to her surprise, she was reunited with her sister in a class and found out what had happened to Eponine in her absence. She quietly brought the issue up to her adopted father.

Valjean - history prof, and the supervising teacher for the trip. I call him Jvj and pronounce it sort of like 'Jivvy' and yes I know that's not even how it would be said and that it's weird af but I will live and die by that nickname. He's that one professor that everyone loves. While he never brings it up, his house is a second home to Eponine and Gavroche, ever since he found Ponine sleeping on a bench outside his classroom (Cosette may or may not have set this up so that he would find her), and now he has three children instead of just Cosette. By the end of the trip, he ends up with like 20 students who all treat him like he's their father.

Javert - ex-military school dean. He's coming on the trip as well because the school's two biggest problem students - Enj and R - are going on the trip and he doesn't trust Jvj to keep them in line. Everyone knows there's some sort of drama between him and one of the history professors, but no one can figure out the story between the two of them.

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Oh well look at me, totally ignoring the thing I said about them all not knowing each other. Welp. And yeah, I know I'm not being the most brick-accurate when it comes to their personalities or whatever, but I'm trying to keep the main feel of each of them while modifying it in a way that works for what I'm trying to write. And look if y'all want to make suggestions about roles for the other amis please go ahead cause I only really have theories for a few of them.

So anyway on to the actual plot.

They all settle in and the next day, they're kinda just let loose in the city to explore. Look we all know that Grantaire is probably going to try to find a bar or a pub or something. The thing is... he ends up at the Stonewall Inn. For y'all that don't know, it was a bar that mainly catered to members of the LGBT+ community. For the first time, he's kinda like 'there are... other people like me? I'm not some sort of a freak for being a man who's in love with another man?' and all that. Through some turn of events, Enj and R (maybe even a group of them?) end up there the next night. I remember reading this thing about since how common police raids and in order to avoid undercover police (*glares at Jav*) there were all sorts of safety measures in place and to be allowed in, they had to 'look gay' and you can bet R takes full advantage of the fact that he's there with Enj to get in.

The police conduct a surprise raid on the bar, and it explodes from just a regular thing into a massive deal, with a massive crowd of spectators. It quickly becomes more and more heated and eventually violent. They fight back against the police because you know neither of them would ever go quietly. Enj and R end up getting arrested together before everything goes insanely out of control, and if anyone else from their group was there, they manage to get away. In prison, Enjy talks to R about the whole deal. Through that conversation, they discuss the LGBT+ movement (though I can't remember if it was called that at the time) and Enjy eventually admits he's not straight, and one of the reasons he ended up becoming the School Vigilante is because he used to be tormented for it, and taught himself how to fight back. He refuses to let anyone else go through the same suffering for it. His protection soon extended to anyone being bullied and picked on, not just fellow queer people. The two of them decide that something has to be done, and this is the start of something massive. Enj tells R that he'll be going back whenever they get released, and Grantaire agrees to go with him.

Jav and Jvj come and negotiate for the release of the two of them since they're visiting French students and all that. When they get back to the place they're staying, I imagine they get a massive yelling-at from Ferre and Courf and Ponine. None of them know the full story, only that the two of them were caught in a bar and got arrested. I'm not sure how old all of them are in this... they're all over 18 in the novel (if I've done my math right) so they weren't arrested for being underage, so there are all sorts of rumors flying around about the two of them.

The next day, someone, I'm not sure who, overhears the two of them discussing what happened the night before, though they've both agreed not to mention anything personal about each other, in case that exact situation of being overheard occurs. However, the person who listens in on them goes to the rest of the group and talks about the protests, and eventually come to the decision that yes, what's happening is a massive deal, and they kinda all want to be part of it? Even if not all of them are part of the community, like Marius and Cosette, they're all very supportive allies and agree to join in these protests. Enj and R try to sneak out when they're confronted with the rest of the students. The two of them think the others are going to try to stop them until Courf steps up and says "like hell we're letting you do this alone,"

They all meet up before the Stonewall, joining a crowd of over a thousand people, surging against the police cordons. The bar itself has smashed windows and looks like someone tried to burn it, but it's still defiantly staying open. R gets his hands on a bunch of rainbow spray paint and joins in a group grafitting walls and buildings. Is grafitting even a word? Grafitti-ing? I dunno. But I had to look up when spray paint was invented and began being used and now I can tell you all about the history of aerosol. Being a writer, right?

They stick around for the rest of the week, joining in various rallies and protests at night, participating in the actual point of their trip during the day. Jav and Jvj obviously know what their students are doing, but they’ve both decided to not mention it at all.

One morning after the group has been out all night, they all escape the chaos and catch rides to Central Park? Maybe? I’ll have to see if that’s even possible. More research, yay!

Anyway, probably Central Park. I don’t really care how improbable it is rn. And we just get a series of shots of all the couples together who’ve found each other.

Enjolras and Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Combeferre, Joly and Bossuet, Bahorel and Feully, Maruis and Cosette. I’m going for lesbian or ace Eponine. Maybe both? If anyone else has suggestions, please lemme know.

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The only problem is, will I ever get around to actually writing this? No, probably not.

Sorry for the long post! Look I get that people feel weird leaving long replies or whatever but I promise you it's totally okay. More responses = me being more likely to actually write this, please and thank you! I'll probably come back to this someday and see if I can update it and add even more ideas and stuff to it, because I feel like I could turn this into a pretty cool fic, if anyone's even interested in it. Thank you so much, everyone!

[anonthenullifier]

Post Hoc

An “And They Were Research Collaborators!” AU

Inspired by this post - “we invited an eccentric billionaire to our fake wedding in the hopes of getting a free present, but then they said they would come and now we have to have an actual fake wedding for them to attend.”

Abstract

The current research seeks to marry the fields of quantum mechanics and social-cognitive psychology to present the first study of its kind to apply quantum probability to prosocial behavior. Helping behaviors of the elite one percent were tested using a novel paradigm that involved the low-impact, positively valanced behavior of gift giving for a wedding. It was hypothesized that the monetary amount of gifts provided would align with pre-determined factors of entanglement informed by the literature. The hypotheses were partially supported. The application of quantum theory to psychology is discussed as well as the unique and unexpected extraneous variables that should be included in future models.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: Introduction

This room, just like all other rooms, is predictable. What at first appears a hodgepodge of chattering people quickly dissolves into order. Clusters of academics dot the rows of pleather chairs, each department banning together to save seats and gossip about who just got turned down by that one reviewer again or why Mathematics is currently not speaking with Chemistry. This in-group favoritism does not stop here, however, these smaller groupings branching into larger ones, the right side of the room, closest to the doors, are the physical scientists, and then there is an almost straight line of empty seats going from the front of the room to the back, cross over it and you reach the social scientists, similarly grouped by department, similarly chatting about successes and failures in attaining funding and how the tepid fifteen year feud between criminology and political science just heated back up with a passive aggressive email. 

Vision technically is sitting on the correct side, about two rows from the other psychologists, but he does not mind the self-ostracism since sitting in the back of the room allows him to better observe the meeting unfold into a dance of egos and sharp wit. Or so he assumes, this is his first all staff meeting with the Marvel Institute, but it is far from his first academic gathering, and people have a tendency to follow patterns. Next to him, contrary to where she should be seated based on the flow of allegiances, yet in line with some of the literature on prosocial behaviors, Natasha slouches, one foot on the back of the chair in front of her, eyes rolling at the heated story coming from the front right corner of the room. 

“Is there a special significance to the meeting today?”

She leans her head back and smiles at him, not unlike the snarl of a panther that has just happened upon a gathering a defenseless baby monkeys. “Oh yeah, people are going to be so pissed.” 

Some people find negative events, well, negative, while some relish in the misery of others.  Natasha is a proponent of the latter, the cutthroat nature of their job the perfect environment for her to thrive, something he has been envious of since they first met through mutual friends in graduate school. For what it’s worth, Vision has never been one for even casual schadenfreude. “Why is that?”

“Steve,” one of the main administrators of the think tank who also happens to be on a bowling team with Natasha, “said the board is threatening to cut funding if we all don’t start collaborating.”

Vision mentally scoffs, not really at the idea of collaborating since he intends to work closely with demography and sociology once he’s better established, but at the way the administration is speeding past all other avenues of empirically sound persuasion straight to the tactic most likely to cause defection. Perhaps he should send them a summary of the key findings in the area. “What are they going to do, throw our names into a hat and choose at random?”  

“Please don’t give them any ideas.”

An authoritative tapping of heels silences most of the gossiping. The head of HR steps up to a podium at the front of the room, her well-tailored pencil skirt, white silk shirt, and fuchsia cardigan creating an overall persona of power as she clears her throat into the microphone.  “Can I have everyone’s attention please.” At this point, there is nothing to argue about, so no one counters, voices dropping off into a wary silence. “Today’s meeting will be brief on my end,” a sardonic hooray comes from somewhere in the social sciences. She ignores it with aplomb. “If you recall, at our last companywide meeting, it was requested by our donors that you all,” patronizing tones are not an ideal way to get people on board, another thing he may need to add to the research brief for HR, “needed to embrace the trend of multidisciplinary research and give the Marvel Institute an even higher standing in the world today by providing even more cutting edge ideas.”

Natasha interrupts his attention with a whispered, “Ten bucks she’s about to tell us about another memo.”

He whispers back, “That seems a guarantee.” HR has already sent five memos this week ranging from appropriate attire for the workplace (someone had the audacity to wear flip flops on casual Friday) to cleaning out the fridges in the common space, to some useful ones like new grant sources and the changes to the workplace harassment policies. But it’s only Wednesday so there will be at least 5 more and Vision only takes Natasha’s bets if he has at least a 68% chance of winning. “I believe I will save my money.”

A shoulder nudges him, “You’re no fun.” Vision scoots an inch to the left.

“Immediately after this meeting, I will email you all a memo of what I am about to share.”

As usual, his calculations are correct, the ten dollars happily remaining in his pocket. “Being no fun for the win.”

“Shut up.”

The woman addressing the room straightens her spine, voice dropping into what she likely hopes is the best pitch for compliance. “The board of directors have mandated that every,” she pauses as grumbles begin to surface from all parts of the room, whispers of dissent and bemoaning of academic freedom, a privilege all of them in this room waived (for the most part) when they went into the private sector. She remains unfazed by the slow roiling of animosity, re-beginning and then ending the comment with her head still held high. “They have mandated that every employee must develop a multidisciplinary project with someone else working at the institute.” 

Out of the grumbling sprouts the first open dissent, the head of Computer Science, a lean, well-dressed man, stands to offer his thoughts. “Listen, why don’t you all tell the board to shove their mandates where they belong, because…”

Natasha’s whispering distracts Vision from the end of the comment, yet again, “That’s the other Victor.”  

“Oh.” On his first day he was informed that there was already a Victor working at the Marvel Institute, a man who is so vastly influential, revered, and hated that it might be in his best interest to dissociate from his birth name. Which wasn’t a huge issue. In graduate school he quickly took on the moniker Vision, not by choice, necessarily, but he did not protest the nickname. He hadn’t gone by it since getting his doctorate, determining Victor sounded more professional, yet now that he can watch the other Victor it makes complete sense why Vision was the one asked to use a different name. This Victor is impassioned, powerful, and utilizing the exact body language and tone to compel people to follow him. 

Victor finishes his speech with a hefty, controlled punch to the air, “You will never pry my intellectual freedom from me!” A few amens! rise from both sides of the room. 

“Well,” the head of HR grips the edges of her cardigan, tugging it closer to her body as she bristles at his tone, “no one is taking your freedom. You are free to choose the topic of your study and free to choose the person with which you will be working.”

Victor rolls his eyes and his whole body follows, “So this,” he raises his hands to add air quotes to the next word, “freedom you speak of is conditional?” The woman nods slowly, eyes beginning to look a little cornered. “Fine, then tell the board I already collaborate with Chemistry, Robotics, Engineering, and sometimes even with Physics when I’m desperate.”

“Yes, well, that is wonderful to know, and we thank you for your compelling work, except,” the cardigan is pulled even tighter as she prepares to drop what Vision assumes is going to be the talk of the hallways for a long time, “the board has set the requirements so that you must work with a colleague in a department that is more theoretically and methodologically different from your own. I have a list in the back of the room with acceptable multidisciplinary pairings.” If Vision had realized the handouts would be behind him, he would have sat in the back corner because at the moment every single person is staring at him, well, technically they are staring past him, but it feels the same. “A good rule of thumb is that you must work with someone who has an office in a different wing than your own.” 

“This,” a second dissenter stands, this time from Vision’s side of the room, the fur stole slouching around her shoulders giving off the image of a widowed socialite more so than the world-renowned researcher she is, “is preposterous and a clear sign of distrust and animosity from the board, not to mention a bit draconian of a measure this early on into the initiative. How can we, as independent scholars, be asked to work under such shackles, thrive under the oppressive weight of what people with no understanding of empiricism think is best?”

Vision will give credit to the head of HR, face remaining stoic despite the (not completely unearned) vitriol slung her way. When her hands finally release the wrinkled hem of her sweater, her voice takes on the non-questioning tone parents pull out when all hope seems lost, “Yes, we are forcing you to work with someone new. Yes, we are limiting some of your freedom, but you all use the funding of our donors, enjoy the bounty that this company gives you, have all the newest technology and programs, and for once, you are being asked to do something out of your comfort zone. If you don’t want to do it, fine, but know that it means you will lose your development funds for the next quarter.” 

Nat breathes out, “Told you,” in between this revelation and the next.

“We don’t care how big or small your study is, it can even be a pilot study or a grant application, but you will work together and you have to find your partner today before leaving this room. Have a nice day.”  

She scurries out of the room, leaving them in stunned silence, a rarity with academics, until a mousy man with disheveled hair and a solid stoop to his shoulders walks up to the microphone. “Um so, yeah, we,” he waves his hand around the room to show them the army of interns standing at the doors with clipboards clutched in their hands, “will write down the collaborations you all set up. We only need your names, departments, and a three to ten word description of your idea. Thanks a bunch!”

No one moves, the part in the sea of chairs remaining firm as eyes begin to shift, assessing first if anyone is going against the orders and second, who might be approachable. Vision angles his knees confidently towards Natasha, “I believe we could find a compelling empirical question between our two areas.”

“I’m actually going to work with Sam.” 

Dumfounded, Vision turns to see the colleague in question sending him a jolly little smile and a victorious wave, unable to fully reckon with the sense of abandonment swirling around his head. “But, but you are the only person I, I know…”

The factoid slides away with an easy shrug, “He and I have had an idea for a while, figured we would use this as our opportunity to finally do it.” Which is fine, Vision won’t stop people from collaborating and he, if he considers it logically, can better grasp how Sam’s research on identifying psychological risk factors in the military marries much better with Natasha’s research on advanced mechanized weapons than Vision’s own work in helping behaviors during extraordinary circumstances.  It is a nice melding for them. But, all things considered, it still means that Vision is at a loss. “Just think of this as a way to finally meet people.”

“But I don’t—”

“You know if you had just come out for happy hour and actually met people, I wouldn’t have had to do this.” Predatory smugness rests easy on her lips.

He has only turned down three invitations, all for the sake of unpacking his boxes and organizing his apartment and avoiding the awkwardness of small talk. That is not something worth such a heavy punishment. “Perhaps we can work as a trio?”

Nat’s hair tap dances along her shoulders as she turns down the offer. “Steve sent the memo to me last night, if three people work together, all have to be from different departments.” 

“Wonderful.” Vision joins the rest of the people in the room, sympathetic system in full gear, heart pounding and head a little woozy while he scans the faces around him, not recognizing any of the people on the side of the room he needs to pick from. “Do you have any recommendations?”

“I do, actually, come on.” Blindly Vision follows the red-head, weaving in between the chairs, trying not to make eye contact with any of the desperate faces that sail pass. “Hey,” he spent so much time watching the speckled floor tiles that Vision almost slams into Natasha’s back, “found your partner, as promised.” 

In front of them sits a petite woman, her dark hair falling well below her shoulders in loose waves, the layers of her weathered black clothing blending in with the pleather of the chair. Unlike Vision’s own nerves, she looks impressively unperturbed. “Oh yeah?”

Nat steps aside and pushes Vision closer to the woman, “Meet Vision, from Psychology.” Then she disappears leaving him alone with his collaborator.

“Um...” The woman’s gaze is steady and slightly unnerving. Vision finds himself shifting on his feet, expecting her to stand and then realizes that it makes no sense that she should have to make herself less comfortable to greet him. A new purpose discovered, Vision lowers himself onto the seat two away from her, allowing the comfort of one empty chair for easier conversation. “Hello, I’m, um, Vision.” he sticks out his hand, gray matter flopping uselessly around instead of pulling up all the research he has read on how to make a strong first impression.  

She grips his hand, giving it a solid shake and a, “Figured. Wanda,” before her fingers dive into the pockets of her sweater, and Vision’s, likewise, retreat to tangle in his lap. “So you a clinician like Sam?”

The most logical question would have been a broader, more open ended option like What do you study? for which he has a prepared 30-second elevator pitch he can ramble off in his sleep. He almost does it too, assuming that was the flow of the conversation. Luckily, he catches himself before his misstep, “No, I am a social-cognitive psychologist.”

“Which is?” 

This is a very different elevator pitch, one he has not given in a long time. “Oh, yes, so it simply means that I empirically examine the way situations, external factors, and other people influence an individual’s behavior, beliefs, and thoughts.” 

“Nice. Must be interesting.” 

What had been perceived friendliness at the onset wilts slowly into a polite disinterest and Vision feels oddly more comfortable for it, slipping into his usual comments meant to eschew the common misconceptions of his field. “Please do not be alarmed, I am not reading your mind nor analyzing your every behavior right now.”

Her lips form a marginal curve, falling back into a pucker that matches the scrunched skin of her forehead as she studies him.  “You know, I once had a roommate in college who was convinced I could read her mind because she misread my major. Even bought me a ouija board to help me do my thing.” Now it’s Vision’s turn to be confused, trying to figure out what she could study, since spiritual studies isn’t something to find at this institute. “Physics, Vision...I’m a physicist.”

“Oh,” a low, embarrassed chuckle comes out, “oh that makes far more sense than where my mind went. How long did you let her think that?”

“Based on the occasional emails we send, I think she still believes it.” 

The instant Wanda offers an uncertain little smile, he can feel his own mouth mirror it. “Well, if you are not going to interpret my star sign, what do you do?”

“I primarily focus on quantum mechanics with a specialization in optics.” The explanation stops and Vision tries to nod encouragingly, faintly aware of quantum theory due to a rainy Saturday in grad school when procrastination clearly took on a desperate hue, but that’s not enough to really understand what she does or what their collaboration can be. “I do a lot with wave functions, entropy, and lasers”

“Fascinating.” This doesn’t help him any, lasers not a big methodology in psychology.

With introductions out of the way, they reach a standstill, staring at each other, well, looking at each other and then looking away, Wanda choosing to study the sticker peeling off the chair in front of her while Vision glances towards the exit. This is exactly what people are angry about--being forced to find a common ground when collaboration, in Vision’s experience, always goes better when it happens naturally from two researchers who have similar but slightly different theoretical views on life. Vision tries to place himself back to his day spent going down the quantum rabbit hole, attempting to find anything that might bridge the gap between his world and the woman in front of him. Except he has nothing.  “It has been roughly twelve years since I took a physics class.”

“About ten for me since I had intro to psych.”

An unsurprising parallel, one he won’t let derail his thoughts, “From what I recall, quantum theory is all about predicting the movement and behavior of particles?”

“That’s the gist of it,” based on the way she says it, it seems that he is approaching the dark room of their collaboration with what might amount to an eraser sized flashlight on the last legs of its batteries. “Most of what I work with are unstable or ambiguous particle systems.” 

This Vision latches onto, feeling his thoughts growing a bit brighter. “I strive to predict behavior, often in unstable or ambiguous situations.” 

A few moments pass before realization erupts on Wanda’s face. “So quantum cognition?”

“If that is a real area.”

He’d like her, “I think so,” to be firmer, more excited, maybe?

“Well wonderful.” It is a start. With most collaborations, he has an idea of how the other person’s theories and methodologies differ from his and where they might meld. That is not currently the case. “I must confess that, other than a couple of review articles, I am not well versed on anything quantum related. Regardless, empiricism is universal and I am certain we could construct a relatively simple experiment where we examine traditional psychological theories of a particular behavior against, um…”

Wanda grins, finishing his thought. “Quantum probability. See who’s better.” He almost points out it’s not a competition, but holds back, uncertain how she might take the comment. “I think it at least sounds good enough to get us out of this room and let me get back to writing my grant.”

This seems doable and a mite exciting, though he can already sense a light panic at not understanding what he has agreed to. “I think we should maybe take some time to read up on the current literature on quantum cognition, perhaps send key articles to each other and see if that sparks any ideas. We can meet later today or tomorrow to hash out a workable study?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Three hours later, Wanda leans back in her chair, a low-grade headache knocking at her temples. The literature on quantum cognition is straightforward when it comes to the mathematical probabilities at play, what is troublesome is the often paradoxical findings and competing thoughts on human behavior. It’s not even the paradox that is frustrating, chaos is near and dear to her heart, a thrill running down her spine whenever she gets to watch the discombobulation of particles as they attempt to settle into their final reality. The moment where all realities are possible is her favorite. No, really it is the human behavior part that concerns her. The articles Vision sent along included experiment after experiment where people chose illogical actions that will harm others. Sure, occasionally there has been a study where they actually help, but it’s depressing to see confirmation of the state of human behavior. Growing up in a war-torn country and seeing the depths of human evil is part of what pushed her towards particles and molecules. That is an entropy she can enjoy, one that won’t set off bombs in apartments or shoot children in the street. She can bask in the glory of not knowing what the end result will be when no lives are at stake. How a man like Vision, who’s face just screams I’m so terribly sorry can study this is really confusing. Not as confusing as the fact that she has now read twelve explanations for the prisoner’s dilemma that all argue different things. 

Wanda shuts her laptop and shoves it in her bag. 

The building is divided into two wings, each wing then divided into six floors housing departments segregated based on closeness of discipline. It means she has to walk extra slowly from one side of the complex to the other so the scalding tea sloshing dangerously close to the edge of her mug doesn’t spill over. 

She waves stiffly at Sam as she passes his lab, a little salty at the betrayal of her friends, and continues down the hall, glancing through the windows of each room until she spots Vision. 

The psychologist is bent over his desk, face resting in his hand with the glow of the computer casting slanted shadows on his face. Wanda stands in the doorway watching him, trying to will him to glance up at her, but he only squints and moves closer to the screen. She shifts her bag behind her, switching the tea into her left hand. “Hey,” her greeting precedes the knock, both of which startle the man into a rigid stance. “You busy?”

Vision tries to reassert his calm, hands flattening the invisible wrinkles of his navy sweater. “No.”

“Awesome.” The expectation is he’ll invite her in, a researcher’s lab holier and more sacred than most people’s homes, only he doesn’t move, palms still attempting to dominate the phantom creases. What she doesn’t want to do is talk over the chasm of the lab, so she takes control, entering the room, a mixture of awe, jealousy, and fear forming at the spotless space. Despite the impressive cleanliness there is only one chair and he is currently sitting in it. “Figured we could talk, um,” the only available place is a table, her bag and cup coming to rest on the gleaming surface, “you know, make sure we’re on the same page.” 

“Of course,” Vision waves her to come in farther, his arms crossing casually, and then uncrossing, seemingly trapped in a state of superposition about how to act in the presence of another person in his space. His polite “Please,” finally collapses his uncertainty into a stiff-backed position, with one arm on his desk and the other resting on his crossed knee. 

Wanda accepts the invitation and perches on the edge of the table, legs swinging idly through the air. “So any thoughts so far?” 

“Some.” This remark implies more is coming, so she waits, fingers curling around the edge of the metal table, trying not to stare too hard as he scoops up a pile of stapled packets. When Vision stands it is fascinating to behold, his body unfolding forever, her neck twitching at the instinctual need to crane up with his progress until he is at his full height, which even from her position on the table, is still much taller than her. Somehow she hadn’t noticed this before or how it seems to amplify the clear discomfort her presence is causing him right now. The pile of papers is lovingly placed about a foot from her, allowing her to see the tell-tale structure of peer-reviewed articles. “I have been attempting to not only understand the fundamentals of your area,” the exhaustion cutting his words makes her feel a bit better, worried that only she was struggling with the cross-disciplinary readings. “While also attempting to think of behavioral analogs to the ideas.”

This is what she was hoping for, her end of the project is pretty much set regardless of behavior, the theory relatively stable minus confirming certain things with him. “I’m all ears.”

“All right, so superposition,” Vision picks up a dry erase marker and writes the word in uniformly sized and spaced teal letters. “I believe I understand the gist of what Schrödinger—”

“I like to call him the cat guy.” The attempt at breaking the tension flutters to the ground where he momentarily stares, “It was a joke...” Now he provides a polite snort, turning back to the board so she can’t see the rest of his reaction. 

Any annoyance or disappointment from her attempted levity is short lived, the uncapped teal marker in Vision’s hand waving as he speaks. “The whole thought experiment is based on superposition, that until a decision is made, all possible options exist together.”

“Correct, the cat can be both alive and dead until we pop open the box and collapse reality.” There is more to it, a laundry list of deviations from this basic component, but she doesn’t think muddying the explanation with qubit states or decoherence will be useful for their brainstorming.

The marker kisses the board again, his voice punctuated by the squeak of the silicone polymer, his ideas flowing into a visual while he speaks. “I’ve been trying to think of it with behavior and it could be like if I were to ask you this,” he underlines the question on the board, scrawled in the most perfectly legible writing she’s ever seen. “Are you happy? Until you answer the question,” a Yes and No join the phrase on the board, “you would exist as both happy and not happy.”

For a beginning example it is okay, though they will need a more nuanced approach in their own research if they ever want to publish it. “Yes, to you I would be both happy and not happy until reality exists and the superposition collapses. But, like the cat in the box, I personally would know my own reality, it’s just you, the researcher that wouldn’t.”

Her words are given careful consideration before he responds. “I hate to use this phrase, but…as a social psychologist,” a little leeway can be given in not categorizing him as a pompous, egotistical academic since he does seem genuinely distressed at sounding just like a pompous egotistical academic, “I am not certain I wholly agree with the assertion that people know their own emotions or even thoughts. For instance, we can shift the probability of your response by adding another question. Like, um,” Vision turns back to the board, hand busy writing out another yes/no question, “this.” Pointing at the question is overkill, but he does it anyway. “If we were to ask someone Are you currently hungry? and then ask if they are happy, we have now changed what their response could be because they are now potentially thinking about how ravenous they are,” which she is in fact considering, something that she wasn’t prior to the example and isn’t particularly happy to have in her mind since it also reminds her that she forgot to eat lunch today. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice the change in her own mood, still professorating towards the board, “and this happens even though the two questions are meant to be independent.”

Wanda tosses aside her angry stomach and slides from the table, joining him at the board, mulling over the marker choices he has and deciding on the red marker he keeps off by itself. “This is actually in line with quantum probability, specifically interference, where the probability of happiness changes depending on other factors. You all use classical probability—”

A very meek correction is given, “I am also trained in Bayesian probability.” 

“Either way, both, for the most part, say things are commutative and order doesn’t matter. But we know it does. In quantum probability we take into account the order of events when we calculate probability.” For a peaceful moment, she considers the questions to be like waves, watching as the two exist together, undulating around and around until a reality is set. Then she writes it down, her slanted, questionably readable letters marring his pristine board. “This example would be what we refer to as destructive interference. Assuming the person is, as you put it, ravenous, it would eliminate the chance of happiness in the second question.  On the other hand, if a person was either not hungry or comfortably full, it could be a constructive effect, where it resonates and boosts the happiness.” 

“So, context matters.”

There’s a cunning smirk on his face when he says it, a tiny, unexpected danger entering his voice that she finds a little academically enticing. “Yes, it does, that’s one of the underlying components of quantum theory. We must examine the context of the behavior we are predicting, whether it’s particles, light, atoms, or even people.”

Vision steps back and leans against the table, studying the board with a casualness and ease he hasn’t shown yet, one she imagines he only has when working. “Now we are getting somewhere. My entire area of research is on how the context of a situation can shape behavior, especially in ways that seem irrational or counterproductive.” He seems the type to want to explain and control illogical actions, no one else would button their collared shirt all the way to the top otherwise. “Consider helping.” A far cry from food, which will hopefully stop her stomach from grumbling. “If you were to be walking down the street and saw someone lying on the ground, what would you do?”

“I, um,” it seems a trick, something she tends to assume is a characteristic of those who study human behavior or ethics, so she turns to face him more directly, leaning back against the white board and mirroring his casual stance, “would check on them.”

“What if there was someone already with them?”

Ethically she knows she should check, but she is also aware that, once or twice or a handful of times in the past, she has continued walking by such a scene. “I would likely slow down and assess if more help is needed.” 

“One extra person and it changes,” the marker moves through the air as he talks, “we know that helping is influenced by myriad factors —the presence of others, the feeling of ability to help, the ease with which you can get to help them, whether you know the person, if they have similar demographics as you, if—”

This list is no doubt endless, especially with how his voice revs up with each new factor. Even if he seems nice, decently well-adjusted, and non-threatening, she doesn’t want to spend hours listening to this. “Are you saying you want to test quantum cognition with helping behaviors?”

“Not necessarily,” displeasure seeps into his voice, and then it twists into uncertainty, “well maybe,” and then slides into something close to defeat, “I really do not know, I’m just trying to think through it all.”

A fair approach to take but she also doesn’t want to drag this collaboration out longer than need be, especially since it will take valuable time away from her primary research. “Well, is there a theory you want to test?”

He shakes his head, capping the marker and placing it down on the table, careful to cage it in with his fingers so it doesn’t roll away. “For my part, it is easier to decide the behavior and then identify the most appropriate theory.”

“Okay.” The easiest thing to do is to just tell him they’ll go with helping and be done She’ll check on him in a few weeks, see what he’s concocted on his end and then she’ll step in. Except part of her wants to use this opportunity to also throw a middle finger at the administration for forcing their hands and taking them away from what they are paid to research. She just doesn’t know if this man is the best partner for something rebellious. “What do you think about all of this, the forced collaborations?”

The question surprises him, mouth dropping open and arm lifting to respond, inadvertently releasing the marker to roll onto the ground and under the table. He bends to retrieve it, still looking a bit lost when he resurfaces. “I believe that multidisciplinary research is the future of all our livelihoods,” definitely not going to be the right partner, perhaps she should have gone for the political scientist that goes to every protest in the region, “yet they are not using ideal methods to encourage such collaboration and are essentially stirring discord that will not further their wants.” 

Maybe Nat wasn’t crazy to have paired them up after all. “What if we choose something ridiculous to study?”

“How...so?”

Wanda shrugs, hands diving into the pockets of her sweatshirt. “I don’t know, something that’s kind of stupid but still theoretically applicable.” Apathy paints his face while a flicker of horror at the defacement of science dances in his icy blue stare. “You’re new, right?” Slowly he nods, arms crossing as he does so. “Each year there’s this unofficial award that we all vote on, we give it to the researcher who managed to publish the most outlandish study in a decent journal.”

His face doesn’t change but he does stand straighter, looking like he’s about to sprint out of the room, except his voice is borderline intrigued. “Like what?”

“Last year someone published a paper on how the fonts that protestors use on their signs invoke different emotions in their opponents.” 

The topic dangles in the air, Wanda a patient fisherman waiting for him to grow curious enough to nibble. Vision’s fingers tap the inside of his elbow and then his shoulders drop. “What font made them the angriest?”

“Comic sans.”

He laughs. The sound starts loud, like he wants to give it his all, but then is cut short into a contained social politeness, presenting her a brief, joyous huff. “Well,” Vision collects himself, shoving his enjoyment away and fixing the unruffled hem of his sweater, “so long as we have a theoretically informed study, I will consider any suggestions you might have.” 

Nothing screams out to her now, and even if it did, she wants to wait, look through the news to see how far she might be able to push him on this olive branch. “Let me think on it.”

He concedes. “We can speak more on it when you are ready.”

“There you are!” They both turn towards the door where Natasha stands. “I’ve been texting you for like half an hour.” 

Wanda’s hands search through her pockets while she glances to an old, black-rimmed clock on the wall. “Oh shit,” no wonder she’s so hungry and no wonder Natasha is upset. “Sorry, it’s on silent in my bag.” 

“Well, come on. Sam’s saving us a table.” 

Wednesdays are $3 nacho night and the last time she lost track of time, the bar ran out of cheese and it took a week for Sam to forgive her. She rushes to her bag, tossing it over her shoulder and chugs her tea. “Let’s go.”  

She’s a few feet down the hall when she realizes Nat isn’t next to her and also, with a mild pang of guilt, that she never officially ended her meeting with Vision. Both of these issues are being rectified by Natasha’s commanding tone, “Vision, I swear to God, if you don’t come with us, I’m never talking to you again.”

Condensation pools and drips along the surface of the electric blue drink gripped between his palms, a treat from Natasha for finally “being a human and joining them.” The other three are comfortable and amicable with each other, at least six inside jokes already lobbed into conversation and they have only been at the high top for ten minutes.  “Okay,” Sam is technically his closest colleague. They are in the same department, they attend at least one weekly meeting together, but still a stranger. Regardless, every encounter thus far, including tonight, paints him as exceedingly nice, personable, and unafraid to take control of a situation, “tell me a fun fact you learned this week that is not work related.” Vision is grateful not just for the inclusive conversation starter but also for the parameter. “Wanda, go.”

“Oh, um,” a creamy cocktail sits in front of her, the array of rings on her fingers, which he had not noticed before, despite watching her write, clinking the glass each time she takes a drink, “I learned that Papua New Guinea has over 800 spoken languages.”

Sam’s approving, “Nice,” accepts the fact and Vision looks expectedly at Natasha, assuming any rational person will move the game clockwise. “Vision, my man, what you got?”

Vision freezes, mind suddenly blank of all the things he has read in the past week, attribution theory even oozing out and falling through the cracks in the tile floor. “Well…” what he had for lunch is the closest he gets to any sort of memory, leftover broccoli soup sloshing through his mind. “Broccoli is a man-made product, created through selective breeding of a common mustard plant.”

“Seriously?” 

All three stare at him as if he has sprouted another head and, in this moment, he believes that perhaps he should have taken the risk that Natasha would never speak with him again. “Yes, same with cauliflower, kale, cabbage, Brussels sprouts…” Finally, their attention leaves him, contemplation manifesting in fingers gripping glasses and long, slow sips of alcohol. 

Sam tips his pilsner in Vision’s direction, “You’ve changed my life.” A well-meaning and empty exaggeration. “Okay Nat, can you top that?”

The easy swill she takes always proceeds a victory, something Vision would welcome, gladly forfeiting the prize of attention and questions to her. “I was reading a news story the other day about how this couple decided to invite a bunch billionaires to their wedding, hoping to get free gifts from them.”

“Did it work?” Thankfully Wanda asks the question before he feels compelled to do so. 

“Apparently, they got gifts from almost half of them.” 

This has to be a function of the secretaries for said billionaires simply sending a gift in the belief this person must somehow be connected, because Vision imagines the secretaries would know any names that would deem an actual RSVP. “Do you think,” Sam’s drink is forgotten as he stares up towards the grubby ceiling of the bar, “you could just send an invite and get a gift, even without a wedding?”

“That would be fraud.” The moral correction comes out before his social mind catches it, three sips of life-endingly strong alcohol enough to lessen his inhibitions, apparently. 

Despite the legal and moral point, no one else at the table seems bothered at the clear violation of federal and state law. “But they’re billionaires, what would one little wedding gift really do to their wallets?” Wanda seems friendly enough, intelligent, driven, and a bit uncomfortably rebellious. This all means he shouldn’t be surprised at her thought, but he’s still a bit scandalized at the complete disregard and even exhilaration in her voice when she speaks of breaking the law. 

Then Sam doubles down on the suggestion. “Exactly. Unless everyone starts doing it, what harm does it cause?” And to think this man is governed under the same ethical guidelines as Vision. What would the APA think of such reckless disregard for the law? “But seriously, would it work?”

For the second time, Vision jumps in more quickly than he should and with a far more sardonic tone than he intends, likely due to the influence of his ruffled feathers. “Still very much illegal but anything can be studied empirically.” Once the words are out, he immediately regrets it, not wanting to spur this conversation any more. It is possible (desired even) they ignore him, Sam already seeming to disregard his addition as he leans towards Natasha. Whatever Sam says is drowned out by a prickle traveling up Vision’s spine, his fight-or-flight response activating at the feeling of being watched. Slowly he turns his head towards Wanda, who levels a discerning, alcohol infused squint in his direction. “Yes?”

“Could you repeat that for me?”

“I, um,” Vision isn’t sure why she’s asking or why he feels like he should change what he said. “I stated that anything can be studied empirically.” 

As he finishes the sentence, Wanda’s lips tip into a wicked smirk. “What a ridiculous idea.”

[bookburnt]

a primer course on T.MA for my mutuals who followed me from other blogs and would like to know what the fuck i’m talking about!  (hi, guys.  love you.)  GONNA BE SPOILER-HEAVY IN HERE.

First off, big ups to the T.MA wiki, which you can consult on anything here, but this post is intended to serve as a very basic overview of the concepts relevant to this blog without forcing y'all to go into wiki levels of detail.  The first part of this post is some general TMA terms and concepts, and the second part is some characters who have been relevant to Gerry's story specifically.  If you're here for a better understanding of Gerry’s arc and don't care so much about the worldbuilding, scroll down to where I start talking about “who’s...?” and that should help you out.

what’s a “Leitner?”  A Leitner is a book but spooky.  They make bad things happen and, optionally, give you weird powers.  They're usually tied to one of the fourteen(ish) Entities, which I will get into in a bit.  Gerard hates these goddamn books, and has a knack for finding them and destroying them.  His mother, Mary Keay, ran an antique bookstore that did serious business in them.

what’s an “avatar?” An avatar is a (former?) human working closely with one of the Entities. Over time, the influence of their Entity changes them, often granting them certain powers in exchange for a psychological and physiological need to serve their Entity.

what are these “Entities?” / what’s this “Hunt?”  Put as simply as possible, the Entities are, like... fear elementals.  There are roughly 14 different entities, though the boundaries between them aren’t clearly drawn in all circumstances.  As follows, a quick overview:

The Eye. Fear of being surveiled.  The need to know the answers to questions that may destroy you.  The Eye is tied to the Magnus Institute. Its avatars can have the ability to magically Know things, understand all languages, and compel others to answer any questions they ask.  Gerry was tied to the Eye and had some capacity for Knowing stuff, but wasn’t fully its avatar - or if he was, he refused to feed it, which must have hastened his death.

The Desolation.  Fire, but without the warm fuzzy bits.  Pure unhinged destruction.  Desolation avatars can and will set you on fire with their minds.  Gerry’s extensive burn scars are the result of fucking around with a Desolation cultist and finding out.   (The cultist also fucked around with Gerry and found out.  He’s not around anymore.)  

The Hunt.  Being tracked by something that won't stop until it kills you.  The thrill of the chase.  Hunt avatars are capable of killing other avatars, even those who would otherwise be unkillable.  The possibility of Gerry being tied to the Hunt is never discussed in canon, but I’ve got my theories.  (That last phrase is a link to a post discussing those theories, it just isn't showing up like a link on desktop for some reason.)

The End.  Death and dying.  Manifestations of the End often involve disruptions of the natural processes of life and death.  For instance, the fucked-up necromancy book that Gerry got trapped in after dying was an outcropping of the End.

The Corruption.  Bugs, disease, rot, etc.  The Corruption's avatars may spread disease wherever they go, or they might just be chock full of worms.  Potential of controlling a worm army.

The Flesh.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a body.  Cannibalism. Flesh avatars may be hulking, twisted parodies of the human form.  They might steal your bones, turn you inside out, eat you, or all of the above.

The Distortion.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a mind.  Doors that shouldn't be there.  Getting lost.  Being unable to trust your own thoughts.  Distortion avatars look, well, distorted when seen in reflections or through glass.  Will probably try to get you to go through a door that wasn't there before.  You won't like what's on the other side.

The Slaughter.  War.  Violence.  Man's inhumanity to man.  The Slaughter often manifests in groups as well as in individuals, so you could get an episode of mass hysteria where an entire small town turns to butchering one another, or you could get an office assistant who just aches to do murder.

The Web.  Spiders.  Being controlled by external forces.  Can operate in extremely subtle ways.  Can also just be an unkillable spider who wants you to have a bad time.

The Vast.  Really big things.  Heights.  Your own terrifying insignificance on the cosmic scale.

The Buried.  Claustrophobia.  Being buried alive.

The Lonely.  Being completely alone.  Like, completely alone, and never coming back.

The Dark. What it says on the tin.

The Stranger.  Something that's not quite right.  A joke that you're not in on.  Clowns and/or mannequins that might kill you and take your skin.

BONUS: The Extinction. While the other 14 fears have been established for a while (the most recent is the Flesh, which only really came into its own with the advent of mass meat farming), the Extinction is a nascent entity born of anxiety around the idea of the human race destroying itself, and/or being replaced by something else. The boundaries of what constitutes an Extinction manifestation, rather than just a warping of one of the other fears, are unclear.

what’s a “ritual?”  Rituals are ways the Entities’ followers and avatars try to influence the world, usually with the end goal of making our world somewhere their Entity can live and feast full-time instead of just sporadically popping in.

what’s the “fearpocalypse?”  The only successful ritual to date, as of the end of S4.  Possibly the only successful ritual ever, given that it ended the world as we know it and let all 14 fears fully through the gate to fuck everything all the way up.  The sky is full of eyeballs now and that's not even the biggest problem.  This happened a while after Gerry’s death, but I have a verse where, due to his previous ties to the End and the general befuckening, Gerry is brought back to have a bad time with everyone else.

who’s Mary Keay?  Gerard's mother, founder and proprietor of Pinhole Books.  Had ambitions of starting a dynasty of supernatural power, starting with her only son Gerard, who ended up having other ideas.  Flayed herself in a ritual to make herself “beyond death” via the fucked-up necromancy book mentioned earlier.  Gerard was primed to take the fall for her seeming murder, but was let go after the book disappeared from evidence and several key witnesses retracted their testimony.  Despite the ritual being incomplete, Mary remained tethered to the world of the living for five years before Gertrude Robinson finally wrapped that up.

who’s Gertrude Robinson?  Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, and a stone-cold BAMF with a habit of sacrificing those close to her for (her idea of) the greater good.  The late Eric Delano asked her to look after his son Gerry, so naturally she let him live in torment with his abuser’s revenant for five fucking years, then swooped in when he was truly desperate.  She got rid of Mary Keay for good, and got Gerard to travel the world with her attempting to prevent various apocalyptic rituals.  The two would often pose as mother and son to strangers.         Being tied to the Eye, Gertrude seemed to be aware of Gerard’s impending death.  After he passed away, she bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book and left him behind.  (More on that here.) Gertrude was shot to death about a year later while trying to burn the Magnus Institute down and thereby prevent its head, Elias Bouchard, from doing anything apocalyptic.  (Tragically, she did not succeed.  SEE:  “fearpocalypse.”)

who’s Eric Delano?  Gerry’s father.  Died too early to ever really get to know Gerry, despite the sacrifices he made to restructure his life for fatherhood.  (We don’t need to go into the why of it here, but he did have to gouge his eyes out to try to be a stay-at-home dad.  And he did it.  We stan.)  Unfortunately, he’d fallen in love with Mary Keay, who used him to produce an heir for her planned empire, then murdered him with a pair of garden shears and bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book.  She later passed his page off to Gertrude Robinson, who spoke with him.  In that conversation, he asked her to look after Gerry and begged her to burn his page, as being bound into the book was a world of suffering. 

who’s Jurgen Leitner?  A rich, reclusive Norwegian who thought it would be cool and smart to start a library explicitly for corralling forces beyond human comprehension.  (He was wrong, and also stupid.)  Collected spooky books and put his name in them, giving them their common name.  Gerard hates this guy, associating him with the books that dominated his mother’s mind and indirectly ruined his life.  He hunted Leitner down and nearly beat him to death for personal reasons.  Upon meeting Leitner, he came away with the impression that this was just a scared old man, and couldn’t possibly be actually responsible for Jurgen Leitner’s library.  Ultimately, he chose to spare Leitner's life.  Unless we're talking about my canon-divergent Hunter!Gerry au, in which case he did not.

        Anyways, hope this has been helpful.  There's... a lot going on in TMA, but hopefully I've hit the parts that are most relevant to my writing here.  If you have any questions about canon, please feel free to ask!

[briannasroger]

Before the Inquisition

tagged by @inqsmabari​ ♥

tagging: uh whoever wants to do it and tag me. I really have no idea who likes doing tag games so please let me know (don’t care if we’re mutuals or not, I always want to read about OC’s).

Name: Ophelia Trevelyan (from my fic, The Light You Still Hold)

Layer 01: The Outside

Eye Color: Green

Hair Style / Color: Dark brown. Most often in a thick plait or ponytail that reaches the middle of her back with some smaller cut pieces to frame her face. When she lets her hair down, it tends to reach her lower back with some waviness to it.

Height: She’s described as small, and I imagined her height around 5′3.

Clothing Style:

Day Wear - Considering she lives with the Inquisition, she only really has the robes they’ve given her and before that, she lived in the circle. Given the choice, she would adore wearing spring/summer dresses. Paired with sweaters (or the equivalent) as she’s easily cold.

Night Wear – Fashion is out of her depth, or at least it is since she’s out of the loop. She definitely has discussions with Josephine and Leliana on what to wear, and it’s often still some variety of dresses.

Bed Room – In the modern AU I’m plotting, she wears Cullen’s shirts to bed and leggings. In TLYSH, she definitely just piles on whatever warm, loose clothes she’s given and curls into a ball. She isn’t picky about what she wears to bed, but she does get self-conscious about how sometimes she doesn’t really WANT to sleep in bed with a shirt on. (Sometimes your boobies deserve to be free, you can’t sensor the truth, staff, @/staff).

Best Physical Feature: Her eyes are stunning, but personally I think her best physical feature is her lips. They look really soft and cute.

Layer 02: The Inside

Fears: Red lyrium, darkness, nightmares.

Guilty Pleasure: Muffins.

Biggest Pet Peeve: People talking over her (which happens often)

Ambitions For The Future: Find her child, learn more about storm magic, get rid of this mark on her hand, and somehow write a book on mixing conventional trap-making with magic.

Layer 03: Thoughts

First Thoughts Waking Up: Is the sun up? Is it too late, is it too early? She makes it a point to wake up for the sunrise usually, and her sleeping schedule is fairly normal (excepting the rather vivid nightmares she can get).

What They Think About Most: When will I be free? is her most common thought. In her comfort zone, she can be a quite logical or strategic thinker, though she hasn’t had the chance to focus on anything other than surviving in quite a while.

What They Think About Before Bed: A silent goodnight to all the people who aren’t with her (be it by choice, or not) is her last thought. She’s a fairly sound sleeper in a place where she’s comfortable and tends to fall asleep quickly.

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: How quick she retains information when told to her. While this isn’t translated into action (see: her trying to learn magic, her trying to learn sword fighting, etc things), it does help with strategy as she has the theory behind most things in her head already.

Layer 04: Either Or…

Single Or Group Dates: Single dates. She doesn’t imagine group dates as anything more than hanging out with a group of friends and she tends to be a little affection regardless of where they are.

To Be Loved Or Respected: Loved. Ophelia was respected as a Trevelyan, and mildly respected as a mage, but she hasn’t been loved since she was taken to the circle, not truly, or at least not in any way she has noticed.

Beauty Or Brains: Brains. When you come to know someone and love them, their face will become them and she knows whoever she loves will be beautiful because of that.

Dogs Or Cats: Neither given she’s not had a pet since she was a young child and her family mostly kept horses.

Layer 05: Do They…

Lie: She can’t lie, she’s terrible at it. She can omit the truth to some degree, but if you ask her a question point blank, she will stumble over it.

Believe In Themselves: Not really, but it depends. If you want her to regurgitate facts on you, she can do that.

Believe In Love: She does. The one thing in life she’s never doubted is love - even if love hasn’t exactly worked out for her. Familial, platonic, or romantic, most have abandoned her to some degree. She imagines it wouldn’t hurt so much if she didn’t love them so it has to exist.

Want Someone: Yes, who wouldn’t, but her priority is finding her child.

Layer 06: Have They…

Been On Stage: As a child, she did plays with her brother Alfonso at the Trevelyan Estate, but that’s about it.

Done Drugs: Does lyrium count considering she’s a mage? If so, yes. If not, no, never.

Changed Who They Were To Fit In: When she first arrived at the circle, she did. It was one of the reasons her studies in the circle suffered so much - she was trying to pretend she wasn’t a mage, so while she learned the theory behind everything, she didn’t quite get the practice in because she liked to imagine she was in the circle on accident. After having her child, her mindset shifted to acceptance, but obviously that was only a few years ago.

Layer 07: Whats Their…

Favorite Colors: It was initially red, but after joining the Inquisition, she has changed her mind. Her favorite color is yellow now.

Favorite Animal: Nugs!

Favorite Book: Potion and trap-making books.

Favorite Game: Big fan of the Thedas equivalent of car games. A decent fan of chess, though she hasn’t played in a while.

Layer 08: I…

I Love: the sunrise.

I Feel: very cold.

I Hide: my son’s existence until I know no one will take him away again.

I Miss: having a goal for the future that isn’t wrapped in the hands of someone else.

I Wish: that I was free and happy. 

[wardog-of-the-endless]

Wardog’s Fic Masterpost

You can find nearly all fics through my AO3 account, but here’s a list of links!

MARVEL

IronStrange- Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

Wishes (Better Left Ungranted)

General-  Tony makes a few wishes, but some are better left ungranted.

‘Till Then

Mature- Stephen Strange is trying to work at Kamar-Taj when his boyfriend texts him... from his Malibu bed. Stephen opens a portal to talk to him about it and they wind up, not really talking about it. ( Tony Stark Bingo Explicit Card A4 KINK: Masturbation)

The Theory of Magic (Series)

General- A get together series in which Stephen Strange has a crush and actually makes a movie. Stories are Complete but the Series is Ongoing, available for expansion via prompts when open.

Remind Me

Study and Practice

Burden of Proof

Absence Makes the Heart

Time Heals All (Series)

General- Stephen Strange and Tony Stark are married. A little Team Cap antagonistic. Part 3 is a little Dark!IronStrange.

What the Doctor Ordered

Cloak and Dagger

Break Rules (Not Oaths)

IronPanther- Tony Stark x T’Challa

Hot Chocolate

General- (Fluff and Flirting)- So a combination of a prompt and a ship. From jacarandabanyan "Hot Chocolate" and bash-it-all's "IronPanther".

WinterHawk- James Barnes x Clint Barton

Nesting On Knives (Series)

Teen- Tumblr Prompt: 1.“Would you ever write WinterHawk?<3″ . Birthday Fic + Tumblr Prompt: All Avengers, clock, poking (+ Tony Stark) 1. Well-Armed (To Hold) 2. A Meddling Affection

WinterIron- James Barnes x Tony Stark

Children of Light

General to Teen- Slowbuild to WinterIron. Deals with the Death of JARVIS, the first activation of FRIDAY, and JARVIS’s eventual resurrection. (Note that J is the “Major Character Death” referenced.) This is angsty because I have FEELINGS about the loss of JARVIS and the fact that we never mourned him in MCU. Stories and Series ongoing.

Son of Stark

To Lose a Child

A Child’s Initiative

I Will Always Find You

General- Tony as Snow White, Bucky as Prince Charming in an AU snippet of OUAT.

Collision With a Dream

General- Bucky's walking along arguing about Russian Lit when he literally runs over his dream guy. Tasha does what she usually does, she makes it worse. That's alright, Tony's apparently the forgiving sort.

(You Wanna) Date My Dad

General- Featuring Harley Keener! "Would you ever write a fic where Bucky meets Harley?"

To Cure a Hangover (You Need Espresso and a Date)

General- Prompt: "Would you ever write: WinterIron with age difference? Like teacher!Bucky with Student!Tony? :P"

I Was Promised a Flying Car

General- Prompt: Would you ever write a fic where Tony and Bucky is bonding over being nerds/loving science? (And doing all kinds of wacky, mythbuster-esque experiments that Tony whips up any time Bucky begins a sentence with "I wonder what would happen if...?")So it's not "science" driven, but science nerd Bucky did spend his last night before deployment at the Stark Expo, staring at a flying car...

Mechanics, Millionaires, Models & More

General- Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne are friends from childhood. When Tony as a single dad catches the eye of the model James Barnes, there’s some mutual Instagram-Stalking and a lot of flirting.

Tony’s First Friend

Coping for An Age

(Walk Walk) Fashion Baby

Milkshakes and Motorcycles

Teen- Bucky, second to the Captain for the Howling Commandos, hears a scuffle around the corner and finds himself with an armful of just about the prettiest little lost lamb he's ever seen. Since Tony don't seem too keen on his now-ex, Bucky's gonna buy him a milkshake, wrap him in a leather jacket, and hopefully show him a good time.

Coffee, Curses, Kisses

General- Tony Stark drags himself out of his workshop on a regular Thursday morning. Well, mostly a regular morning. Except for Clint Barton lying on the breakfast bar in themed underwear. The theme is new, the rest is depressingly familiar. Ok, so maybe the rose petals are new too. (What the hell, Clint?) It's enough to make a billionaire grateful for the Avengers Alarm. Wait a minute, magic too? Fuck, this is just not Tony's day. (Until it really, really is.) (This is a Fill for Tony Stark Bingo 2019 S4: FIRST KISS)

Riding Roughshod

Teen- The Heroic Captain America wakes up in a world that is integrated far beyond what he would have dreamed of when he went into the ice, though he never expected to be a part of it. A pioneer of mixed-race teams back in his own day, the last thing he expects is to be called upon to do so once again, this time gathering a group of heroes from some rather unlikely places. If that weren't enough to worry about, there's a wild-card Soldier with a familiar fighting style making trouble at top-security bases all over the world... and a shiny red and gold suit that doesn't seem to answer to anyone. That's to say nothing of the kid genius that's supposedly behind it. ( This is a Fill for Tony Stark Bingo 2019 R4: Centaurs / This is a Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 K3: Tony Stark/ Iron Man)

Love Like Knives

Mature- Winter wakes up Tony when he wants someone to play rough with.This is a Bingo Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019- U4: [Image: Winter Soldier holding a knife.]

California Dreamin’ A Beach Bums Verse

Teen- Note: A Special Collaboration Series! This is a WinterIron get together with puns, angst, fluff and more! Note that some fics may include Losers crossover characters! Also make sure to read my partner maevee’s stories!

Don’t Tell (Secrets) -Losers Crossover Fic

(Everyday Is A) Winding Road - Losers Crossover Fic

Mai Tai (Offer You A Drink) 

When You Wish Upon A Stark -Maevee

We’re Gonna Need a Bigger Bucky -Maevee!

Adorato

Teen-James Barnes, the Winter Soldier, has been out of the ice and Hydra’s hands for a month the first time he hears a familiar voice. (A SoulMate AU)

True, Strong and Brave

Teen- Bucky Barnes moves into the tower and receives help from an otherwise elusive Iron Man. But when the team gets called out and things go wrong, Steve gets a reality check as to what has been done in his name. Bucky steps up, he's one of the few who can. (Team Cap Critical; Anti-Wanda)

Tired

General- From a Prompt on Tumblr: Random Sentence- “I’ll do it for you.”

(Were) Whisperer

Mature- In a world where Aliens rain destruction from portals through space, ancient Gods arrive on beams of light, and a certain Billionaire Philanthropist darts around the world in a metal suit: there really is a very high bar for what is considered "weird". Shapeshifters hardly register, having been long known. You’re either a Human, a Were, or a Whisperer. Most people can prove whether they’re the first or the second, a few will lie about being the third. Alternately, there's Tony. Tony Stark is one of the few people pretending the first and burying the third, and he’s more or less in the clear with it until Steve Rogers catches up with the Winter Soldier, and brings him home to Avengers Tower. Tony doesn’t have to say a word, the Wolf knows differently.

An Attraction

Jurassic World AU-  Write... a crossover/au of the last non-marvel movie you saw and marvel (if ships, winteriron?). Essentially Jurassic World & Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom Snippets with WinterIron. Originally Posted on Tumblr: Expansion Pack for AO3 Rolling Out Now!

Next Year Will Be Better

General- Just a quick story for Tony’s birthday. Pre-Slash Tony Stark/James Barnes, and Tony acting as IronDad to the Spider Son and his Potato Gun Son.

Let’s Go Dancing

General- This is a Marvel Universe-Center Stage Fusion AU that no one asked for and everyone is getting anyway. Tony dances for the American Ballet Company as their featured ballerino, performing under the name Antonio Carbonell. James and Steve are two of the ABC’s newest students, and James gets a chance to meet his crush on his first day. Just his luck, Tony is even better in person. (Natalia may have been setting them up all along.) This is a Fill for Tony Stark Bingo 2019- S1: Dancing

The B Team

Teen- Pepper Potts has had a long day that isn’t over yet, as Phil Coulson has just arrived on the doorstep of Tony’s Malibu Mansion to discuss Iron Man joining a new team. In most instances, it wouldn’t be enough to let him in the door, except he’s brought James Barnes along with him. Of course, he was probably expecting that James would be helping them talk business… But all the Soldier seems to want to do is get busy. (WinterIronWeek Day1/ TSB S2: [Image: Tony Stark working on IM in Workshop]) 

Done

General- Tony has just started prep work to remove the old arm and install the new one he's built, and already James is impatient. Or maybe he just wants to needle his boyfriend a little? Tony gets pretty cute when he's annoyed. (WinterIronWeek Day 2)

A Second Take, A First Impression

General- A drunk Tony Stark meets his Soulmate at a college party, but James is a gentleman (and Rhodey is scary) so nothing can happen until they’re sober. Tony wakes up at an ungodly hour of the morning, confused at his current predicament, and meets his (very attractive, very shirtless) Soulmate all over again. (He wishes he could forget all of this.) (WinterIronWeek Day 3)

Hunting For (You)

General- The Soldier has cleared the last of his required therapies, been gifted a new arm, and turned loose. The first thing he wants is to show Tony, up close and personal. Of course, there's a certain winged pest that is going to interrupt. (WinterIronWeek Day5)

WinterWidow/RussianRoulette- James Barnes x Natasha Romanova

No Fics Currently

Stony- Steve Rogers x Tony Stark

A Guardian of Light

Teen- a.k.a. that time Steve sank the Valkyrie in the Arctic and became a spirit-walking wolf to guide Tony, at Frigga’s suggestion.

Shield Studios Ltd.

General Audiences- All the Avengers in a non-powered voice-acting AU for an animated show called "Assemble" staring their Marvel counterparts. Tony/Steve have a mutual admiration/crush but it's not actually romantic and can be read as gen.

Assemble!

Phil’s Failed Plan

You’re Welcome to Try

The Vague & The Unmistakable

General Audiences- Looking back on it, there are several things that should have tipped Steve off that today was his Birthday. (Starting with the fact that it's suddenly clear Tony engineered every one of them.)

Stucky- Steve Rogers x James Barnes

No Fics Currently

Stuckony- Steve Rogers x James Barnes x Tony Stark

On The Wing

Teen- A Wing AU for Stuckony. Stories are Complete but the Series is Ongoing, available for expansion via prompts when open.

Fluttering

Turtledove

(I’ll) Be Good

Mature- So when the tumblr prompt "Would you ever write...ABO winterironshield with alpha Tony?" meets my Kink Card S2 Square "Alpha/Beta/Omega Society" this is where we end up.

Allergic to Coddling

From the Prompt: "Would you ever write Tony Stark having an allergic reaction to something and the rest of the Avengers babying him to the point of ridiculousness because they just love him so much?" Sort of Stuckony, sort of Everyone is Poly Because Avengers? Your choice.

Poly Avengers- Everyone Loves Everyone

Everybody Loves Me

From the Prompt: "Would you ever write a TonyXEveyone fic? Not exactly everyoneXeveryone, but everyone *in love* with Tony only?" Note this is a Partial Fill which may be expanded on later. Featuring Tales of Suspense Hawkeye/Comic Clint Barton, aka deaf and a dumpster kid until the end.

Non Romantic- No Shipping

Shut UP, Bucky!

Teen-  From the hellscape of Discord Discussions I bring you: QueenWuppy: "During World War II condoms were not only distributed to male U.S. military members, but enlisted men were also subject to significant contraception propaganda in the form of films, posters, and lectures. A number of slogans were coined by the military, with one film exhorting "Don't forget — put it on before you put it in." "guys i was doing research and and steve and bucky were subjected to this". AKA Bucky makes SO MANY COMMENTS about Super Soldier Sized Protection. So many.

The Most Powerful (Pillowfight)

General-  In which Carol and Tony (aggressively) support each other and then do battle (with pillows) for their honor. Or each other's honor? It's unclear, things got out of control. (James Rhodes loves these idiots way too much.) (This is a fill for the TSB 2019 Square: T2: A BATTLE/FIGHT/CONFRONTATION)

We Can’t Plot Murder All The Time

General Audiences- From the Prompt: "Would you ever write Deadpool/Tony (IronPool? DeadMan? IronDead? Dunno their ship name :b)" AN: I don’t ship them so this is a non-romantic.

The Losers

A Touch of Grace

Gen to Teen- Cougar has a bad feeling right before the Fadhil operation, and he admonishes Jake to be careful. Jake mostly pays attention, but Cougs is pretty distracting. (Slight D/s tones and Subspace.)

If I Touch You, Will You Listen? (Cougar’s POV)

If I Listen, Will You Touch Me? (Jensen’s POV)

Tag (You’re It)

Teen-  Jake hacks a new system for the express purpose of getting the Losers prank dog tags printed and delivered. Mostly because his Unit is full of people that make bad decisions, himself included. And also? To flirt with Cougar. Jake is willing to do stupid, stupid things in order to flirt with Cougar.

You And Tequila (Make Me Crazy)

Teen (and Up)- Fortalvarez Tequila is a family business that's been in operation for a hundred and fifty years. Currently, under the management of the family matriarch Constanza, the business will soon be passed to her beloved grandson Carlos. The problem is, Constanza does not care for modern technology or the fact that all of her grandbabies (but especially her favorite) are single. Her solution is a single advertisement for a new Social Media Expert, which is about to be answered by the very handsome (and rather impulsive) Jake Jensen. 

[blazc-ignitixn]

Rules

1. This blog is:

Semi-Selective: Everyone is welcome to follow, however I might be a bit choosy about follows back (it's not you, I promise, just me being careful). I'd rather RP with mutuals (easier for me to keep track of replies, nothing more), though IM and Inbox are open for anyone, so feel free to drop by.

Multiship: I’m shipping trash and open to any sort of relationship, from platonic to romantic. I'm biased towards Touya x Hawks and Touya x Tomura, but I'm up to give any ship a try as long as there isn't a too big age gap (no more than 5-6 years) and the younger half of the ship is at least 18-20 (16 and no older than 17 in the Hero Student Verse) , so ask away (no, seriously, I work better knowing if you want to ship in advance, shipping with chemistry is all good but don't be afraid to ask me to ship straight away, I love planning a ship). Respect Touya's sexuality (homosexual) and in the off-chance I say no to a ship, DO NOT try and force it; I can guarantee I won't do the same. Pre-established (platonic) relationships are okay too (meaning Touya met them as a student or sidekick and is already familiar with them as a pro hero), if there's a good base to it, though it'll depend on the muse (Touya isn't exactly the social/trustful type). Absoutely no shipping Touya with any of the UA students and people who are minors in canon.

Multiverse: Interactions with different muses are to be considered to take place in a different verse unless discussed between muns. Same goes for shipping, so there will be no cheating involved (it’s a big no-no for me and makes me really uncomfortable, so don’t even ask).

Multimuse-Friendly: If you have a multimuse blog, feel free to interact with me, just make sure to specify which one of your muses you want to use, especially if we've just started interacting.

Sideblog-Friendly: I'm perfectly alright RPing with sideblogs; you can reblog my promo (tag This Is Our Call [Self Promo]) so I know where to find you, just please send me a message / IM from your main blog if I follow you so I know it's you.

OC-Friendly: Pretty self-explanatory, if your muse is an OC and you want to interact, you’ll be more than welcome. No Mary Sues or Gary Stus though, please (I had a bad experience in this regard). Also, I'd rather if you had a decent bio page so I know as much as I can about your OC, and I'm perfectly fine if your OC is related to a canon character.

AU-Friendly: Your muse is an AU/Canon Divergent version of a canon muse? Fine by me, as long as you have a bio page where you explain said AU/canon divergence so I have an idea about what's different from canon.

Crossover-Friendly: Your muse belongs to a different fandom? That’s perfectly fine! Though be forewarned that I might not follow back quickly (or at all) if it's a fandom I'm not familiar with unless we've been friends for a while (like, from before I joined the BNHA fandom), you have a BNHA AU or I see potential for interactions. It's mostly to keep my dash clean and for my own comfort, nothing against you, so please don't feel bad.  For fandoms I’m familiar with, see rule #20.

Duplicate-Friendly: If your muse is another Dabi, you're more than welcome to interact, I love multiverse mayhem! Time travel, alternate dimension, twin verse, anything goes.

NSFW-Friendly: Both mun and muse are 21+ and open to roleply smut, though it’ll only happen with muses that are at least in their twenties (Touya is 25 in the main verse and I won't RP smut in verses where he's 17 or younger), in which case it’ll be tagged accordingly as Too Hot To Handle [NSFW] and put under ‘read more’ if necessary. I will only RP smut if the other mun is 18+ and comfortable with it as well.

2. I accept interactions with underage muns, but the relationship between our muses will remain strictly platonic. I don't feel confortable writing romantic ships with underage muns due to past experience. Platonic ships are more than welcome though. Thank you for your understanding and patience.

3. No godmodding (controlling my muse yourself) and no metagaming (using knowledge of someone’s muse that a character has no way of knowing).

4. If you don't follow me back when I follow you but are still willing to RP, send me an ask or IM or tag me in a random starter to break the ice. I usually don't approach blogs I follow if they don't follow back for fear of bothering.

5. I’m open to RP via IM and Discord as well, so if we’re mutuals, feel free to ask for my Discord-ID (though I might be selective with giving it).

6. I don’t care about reply length, just write whatever you feel like. I’m perfectly okay with one-liners, para, multi-para and drabble-length replies, whichever floats your boat, as long as you give me something to work with for my own reply.

7. Don’t reblog OOC posts, Rules, Headcanons or threads you’re not taking part to. Seriously, it’s annoying as hell so. Please. Don’t. Do. It! 

8. Feel free to tag me in dash games (no seriously, I love those so the more the merrier) and, if we're mutuals, random starters as well.

9. Triggers might be present (Touya's backstory does include child abuse and domestic violence and he's prone to having panic attacks), but will be tagged accordingly as TW: Trigger (ex. TW: Blood), even if mentioned (in which case it'll be tagged as TW: Trigger Mention), just to be safe. If you want me to tag a specific trigger, just let me know. I don't have any triggers myself, but please tag cheating (in a relationship), animal abuse, torture, rape/non-con and eye-related gore, as they're topics which make me uncomfortable.

10. I’m more than happy to turn asks into threads, as long as we're mutuals. I don't mind either reblogging said ask or starting on a different post, whichever you prefer.

11. Since this blog is based on the 'Dabi is a Todoroki / Touya Todoroki' theory, which includes details of latest manga chapters, spoilers will be present, though they'll be tagged accordingly as Darkest Fire [Spoilers]. In general, I'll tag spoilers from the Internship Arc onward (let me know if you want me to tag earlier spoilers too).

12. I don’t really like to RP angst. Hurt/comfort is okay, though, and my go-to type of thread. Other things I prefer avoiding are dub/non-con, gore, and torture.

13. No hounding / pressuring for replies / answers. I won’t do the same with my RP partners and ask the same courtesy from them. If I haven’t replied in a while, you’re welcome to ask me (gently) via IM. Chances are I’m busy with real life (I’m an university student on my last year), my phone doesn’t work or I need more time to come up with a proper reply.

14. Please keep drama, discourse and anon hate away from me. I’m here to have fun and relax, so don't try and get me involved in stuff like this (it's lowkey triggering for me so please respect it). Much appreciated.

15. Don't be rude. I’m a very kind, considerate individual, I always do my best not to disrespect other people and I hate it when people disrespect me. I’ll gladly accept critiques as long as there’s a good, well-explained reason behind them, but gratuitous rudeness is a big no-no.

16. I don't accept M!A (Magic Anons) so don't send them in unless I request it by writing a post or reblogging a meme (which will happen rarely, if ever). M.A. sent without prompting will be deleted on sight. 

17. I won't take part in or join affiliated RP groups. Last time I did it wasn't a pleasant experience so I'd rather steer away from it for the time being. My activity might be spotty due to IRL stuff so I don't wanna feel pressured to be active at all time. I might make exceptions, but rarely so.

18. No need to send in passwords, I know it can make some people anxious. I myself have no problem sending them in if requested, and in any case I always make sure to read the rules before following/interacting, so I assume you did the same. 

19. For PSAs, look for the Let It Burn [PSA] tag.

20. Regarding crossovers, here’s some of the series I’m into and know very/decently well:

Persona Series

Ace Attorney

Yuri!!! On Ice

Fairy Tail

Pokémon games

Harry Potter

Artemis Fowl

Marvel Cinematic Universe

X-Men Movie 

Danganronpa

Ouran High School Host Club

Villainous / Villanos

Saint Seiya (Classic Series, Lost Canvas, Hades, Soul of Gold)

Time Hollow

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

Fruits Basket

Mystery Skulls Animated

[mingyaus]

last min bf ch. 1

series ch 1 > ch 2 > ch 3 | last min bf series masterlist

summary the world’s bigger now. humanity has gone beyond earth and inhabited many other planets. earth has basically become this uninhabitable, over-studied wasteland, yet some people still have a dangerous curiosity for their home planet, including you and min yoongi.

paring reader x myg

genre humor, barely angst, reader insert, sci-fi!au

warnings drinking, partying, and almost some drug use

word count 4.2k

You’re not supposed to care so much about anything, about any of this, yet you still find yourself in a corner away from your dancing friends wallowing in a shallow tide of thought. There are just a lot of things going through your mind right now, like how you forgot to grab a change of clothes for tonight, about how you just ate too much and are probably going to have to take a dump in the bathroom, about how the rest of your life is quickly approaching, about how the end of a chapter in your life is coming to a close. You all have just graduated high school. High school. You can’t believe they still call it that after Earth’s first major power shift, which is when the United States was joined by a few other countries that joined the rank of  “superpower—

Thoughts concerning your Earth History class shuffle around in your brain for a while. Eventually Min Yoongi slips into your mind. Well, actually he slips into the high school graduation party (this is the version without any parentals, all the official grad parties occurred days ago), a few hours late (approximately two hours after the 7 pm start of the party), but everyone knows parties at spoiled-rich-boy-party-host-prodigy-with-never-present-parents (literally the only reason people are friends with him) Jackson Wang’s house never really end until 24 hours after the start, so a few hours doesn’t make a huge difference.

Sitting at the end of the main hallway above the ground floor of the Wang’s many floored home offers many advantages. There’s a large window where you can see everything going on in the front yard, anyone who tries to enter the home cannot go in without your eyes scanning them. The main advantage is that you get to witness the not-surprisingly late entry of Min Yoongi, and for another, it allows you to keep an eye on your friends while avoiding any damaging activities. Your friends aren’t really doing anything damaging actually, no one has touched the alcohol or drugs subtly scattered about the house yet. They’re just talking about things you don’t want to think about right now—some other planet politics and music—and you have too much weighing on your mind to contribute or ask probing questions to entertain them.

Min Yoongi pops back outside again and makes a sprint past the portable space ships and other modes of transportation littering the Wang yard and the street across from the lawn. There actually aren’t that many houses in this neighborhood, so nothing blocks your view as you watch Min Yoongi sprint another block down to a nearby park and a wired fence where a space ship is parked. He pulls a handle and brings out his keys pulling just to see that it has already been locked. When he sprints back to the Wang’s front yard he looks upset, like he went all the way out there to make sure the door was locked when it already was. You didn’t see the purpose of locking the ship because the neighborhood is the among the nicest in this planet, maybe even this universe. Definitely in this country, but no one measures things by country anymore because space is just too big now to allow separate masses of land or archaic legal borders to make much of a difference. Even cultures do not create much tension, at least different cultures within one planet. Interplanetary relationships can cause the worst kind of trouble.

He disappears inside the home, and for a while you watch the stairs secretly hoping he would join you at this little look out spot. But why would he though? You two never talk. The only times he “would join you” were at podiums always receiving awards together. You are—or now were because you two just graduated—among the top 5% of students at your school. High achievers, top performers. You’re both in that group of kids who always win at everything. It feels good to be at the top, but still lonely. Your friends are a diverse bunch, mostly in grades. Kim Namjoon, the other 5%-er in your friend group is probably your most distant friend, always studying instead of hanging out, and you’re mostly just friends because your other friends are friends with both of you.

Mutual friends bring people together, and that’s what Yoongi is doing here. You feel an urge to go downstairs and find him, like this is your chance to finally get to know this person you’ve always wanted to get to know.

“Hey! Y/n, wanna play a game?” Kim Yerim yells at you from inside the bedroom where your friends have been spending their time at the party. “Stop being emo, and join the group! That or I’ll make you cry your eyes out then send you home after parading you around the living room!”

You sigh, still lost in thought about possibilities and anxieties for the future, not quite ready to let go of high school even though it’s already let go of you. Yeri gets out of the bedroom, and drags you in. A deck of Cards Against Humanity sits in the middle of a circle formed by your closest friends, and a few acquaintances. A few rounds pass, the game goes quickly due to some people’s lucky hands (you’re probably only saying that just because you suck at this game). Suddenly Yeri calls for a bathroom break, and she’s taking too long, so you leave to go find her. The second floor is quiet except for all the commotion coming from your room, and the bathroom is empty, so you go down the stairs to find your petite friend. When you find her, she’s chatting up a familiar figure: Min Yoongi.

“Oh, hey, Y/n! I was getting a drink, then ran into Yoongi, my friend.” She pats him on the chest, leaning oddly close to someone you’d describe as her acquaintance—they’re not that close, really they should not be talking to each other considering the fact that Yoongi is in Jeon Jungkook’s inner circle. It seems like Yeri’s already had a few drinks during her extended bathroom break. Yeri’s tipsy, and you know it. In her right mind, she would never even approach anyone with at least five degrees of separation from Jungkook. In some ways Jungkook and Yeri’s messy relationship could be blamed for why you and Yoongi are so distant.  

You’ve always admired Yoongi for his brains. There were a few classes you shared, but your classes were always too big for you two even participate in group discussions with each other. Every so often, you two met at the podium receiving awards for academic feats. This is how you first took notice of him. There wasn’t a specific award giving function in which you remember becoming truly aware of who Min Yoongi is. You just became conscious of his presence. Sometimes you would even have the honor of standing next to him, parts of you brushing against his arms.

Man, Min Yoongi is such a fine guy.

You always wished you had gotten to know him better during high school. Your mind was just too occupied on other guys (a failed homecoming date, and a decent prom friend date) and school to get around to him. There was also the great divider between both of your friend groups. And that has to do with a former couple consisting of Jeon Jungkook and (as she likes to be called) Vampire Princess Yeri, Future Queen of Huth (a made up planet, she pretends to be from). The two were an inseparable pair during junior year. Though everything began and ended very quickly by the end of eleventh grade. A messy break-up having to do with abortion, broken CDs, and hair ties is what it took to break the two apart. Ever since even their friend groups have felt the angry tension that still lies between Jungkook and Yeri.

And that tension is what’s making this round of truth or dare so competitive. Somehow (truth be told, it’s the alcohol and nostalgia) Yeri and Jungkook have been pulled together in the Wang family’s second floor guestroom. In an effort to keep things civil both of their friend groups decided to join in on this reunion, and Min Yoongi is the genius who suggested the game of truth or dare. This game, which could risk bringing out old memories, could also quickly divert attention from one dramatic event to another. And with the ten or so people already playing lowers the odds of Yeri and Jungkook coming in direct contact with each other. Also, you could be imagining this, but Yoongi appears to be sitting the closest to the bottle you have all decided will determine the next victim in the game. Maybe it’s so he can quickly move the bottle in case it could cause Jungkook and Yeri to interact. You’re theorizing now, and decide to set those thoughts aside in order to better enjoy the game. All in all, you admire Yoongi’s quick thinking and continue to admire him, especially after you dare him to do twenty push ups, and he does thirty with the petite Yeri sitting on his back.

“Wow, man of the hour Min Yoongi seems to have been chosen by the bottle once again!” Jeon Jungkook shouts. Everyone’s relieved because Jungkook is seated right next to Yoongi, and the bottle was about to land on the younger man, but thank, God, it didn’t.

“Truth or dare?” Yeri asks. She’s smiling. It’s her turn to dish out the truth or dare, and she was almost faced with the pressure of talking to her ex. They haven’t talked in so long, and everything was such a mess. She should be shaken, but you quickly notice that your theory was right. The reason she’s smiling is because of the genius Min Yoongi, who was able to pull a sleight of the hand trick and force the bottle to move just a little towards him.

“Truth, sure.” He smiles back at her.

“Earth. What are your honest opinions about it?” You gulp, Yoongi gulps. Everyone is a bit shaken that she would ask such a question. Earth, everyone here’s home planet (“home” used lightly, no one was actually born there), has been hot in the news. The topic is essentially like what abortion was in 2018. Right now, Earth is essentially humanity’s dying grandmother. Ever since wildfires, and other climate change events have taken over the planet, scientists decided one of the major priorities is relocating humanity. This was also controversial. There are essentially two sides to this argument. One thought that the priority should be preserving Earth and protecting it. The other believed in getting out of Earth as soon as possible. Obviously the side that had more money on its side won, and that the was latter side. Businesses found a money making opportunity in spreading humanity throughout the universe. New land to buy, new industries to come, etc. So humanity survived through spreading itself throughout the universe and adapting to new places. In the present, no one lives on Earth. People who were there either were killed by the climate or moved out. The first people to move off Earth were the richest, those who could afford to escape Earth’s capitalism to the new capitalistic worlds beyond Earth. The final generations were among the lucky middle class, including your family, and many others who live on the planet that you reside. Fourth generation non-Earth born families like the Wangs are rare here, but they are the highest of society. Most people who live on this planet are children or grandchildren of Earth-born people. The preservation of Earth is still a controversial subject. Currently, the planet is in a state of environmental turmoil. It’s uninhabitable, and people are barred from going to it. Many people are against spending any new money made in space on Earth, including many people in this room.

“Uh,” Yoongi gulps. He’s an honest man, doesn’t want to lie. That and mostly because he’s had a few drinks and that makes him too honest, a fool. “I’d love to visit it. I think it’s a beautiful planet, and we should take care of it. Hm, like I’ve actually been thinking of sneaking over and visiting it. I have an extra long summer this year, why not?”

“What?!” The first shout comes from Kim Seokjin, another member of high society. His family made much money off of leaving Earth, so it makes sense as to why he wouldn’t care so much about the mother planet. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s no reason to keep that garbage planet around anymore—”

And he’s cut off from all the other screams erupting and attacking Min Yoongi. The circle is closing around him, and the only thing preventing people from touching the man is Jeon Jungkook. The muscle pig fends off anyone that physically tries to attack Yoongi.

You decide that this shouting fest is a signal for you to leave the room. Yeri’s sitting next to you, and she’s not into all this vocal and almost physical violence, so she takes your hand and gets up so you two can get out. You guide her to the little nook you were sitting in before. You two are still close enough to hear the screaming, but it’s quiet enough for you two to talk.

“Well, that was wild.” Yeri says. “I thought Jungkook and I in the same room would cause conflict, but apparently Min Yoongi’s words are ten times as powerful.”

“Yeah,” You take a breath. Yoongi and Jungkook are slipping out of the room in front of you two, running downstairs or somewhere to somehow escape the mob that’s following them. You quickly turn around afraid they’ll read your thoughts. Your voice drops to a whisper, afraid the mob will hear you. “You know, I actually agree with Yoongi. I think Earth is great, and would wanna visit it. Like we wouldn’t have to worry about oxygen shortages or any oxygen-related problems for once.”

“Hm,” Yeri nods, taking in what you just admitted. You trust the girl enough with this somewhat secret opinion of yours. “I actually agree with you on some level, though I would never want to visit it myself. I just don’t think we should toss it to the side. Too much history. It feels wrong.”

“Yeah! You get me.” You squeeze her hand, you’re still clasping, a little tighter glad you’re not alone in your thoughts.

A few minutes after you and Yeri witness Yoongi’s escape, Jeon Jungkook comes rushing up the stairs. Alcohol heavy in his breath, he kneels down in front of you two and takes Yeri’s hand in his. Looking at her directly in the eye, he mutters, “We need to talk.”

She simply nods as he stands up and leads her into the now empty bedroom where the turmoil began, and some may begin again. You, worried about another messy fight starting, rush into the room, panic building in your stomach. “Hey, I don’t think you guys should be talking alone.”

“Psh, shhh, shh, Y/N. You know how calm alcohol makes me, same with Jungkookie. This is probably the most peaceful we’ll ever be with each other, don’t worry.” The words spill out of her mouth quickly, and her eyes stay trained on Jungkook’s as they sit down on the floor next to each other, their strangely positioned bodies facing you and still holding hands. They look dumb, but you’re still worried about them.

“Nah, Y/N, don’t be a worry wart. I just want to get some closure before we leave for university, it’s been such a mess, and I just want to get some last words in before we both never see each other again. You know how it’s like nowadays.” Jungkook says in a rushed manner. He’s right though. People stay in school longer, getting post-graduate degrees right after their undergraduate degrees in order to get halfway decent jobs. Science is most popular occupation, so after getting PhDs or whatever, people go on immersing themselves in long-term studies for the rest of their lives. You know that Yeri is going after this common career path, so you can understand why Jungkook would want some literal final words with Yeri.

“Okay, before I leave. How’s Yoongi?”

Jungkook finally takes his eyes off Yeri to respond to you, “Hiding out. He’s planning on leaving in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, bye. Don’t fight.” So you slip out, but kept the door open just in case the former couple begins causing some trouble.

You are once again stationed at your little window spot, looking out into all the vehicles parked. Yoongi’s shiny, silver spaceship catches your eye once again. After hearing his honesty about Earth, you suddenly feel more drawn to him. The urge to converse with him about his thoughts on Earth is so strong. You two have something significant in common. This attraction mixed with the strange feeling of listening to Jungkook and Yeri’s whispers of final goodbyes (as well as the few drinks Yeri peer pressured you into drinking earlier) is what motivates you to go outside and stand right next to Yoongi’s spaceship waiting for him to arrive.

In a few minutes, just like Jungkook said, Yoongi gets outside to his ship. He looks like a classic emo boy, with his hands in his pockets and hood up covering most of his face, most likely to mask his identity from the mob that he miraculously escaped from.

“Hey!” You wave at him. You’re smiling, looking more friendly than anyone else he’s seen at the party all day. He’s still worried about the mob, so looks around to make sure no one followed him out and you aren’t baiting him into some trap. “I swear, I come in peace.” You flash him a peace sign, and that makes his lips curve into a little smile.

“Okay, but step behind the ship with me. I don’t want to be caught next to her—”He points at his ship—“and get her hurt by the mob.”

“Uh, alright.” You trust him enough that he won’t harm you, so you get behind the ship with him, hidden from anyone exiting the Wang household. You two are quiet, staring out at the fenced in open field Yoongi parked in front of. “Hey, uh, I thought that it’s pretty cool that you want to go to Earth.”

The quiet boy, turns his head, finally looking at your face. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’d like to visit it too. It’s a thing I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

“Psh, no way.” He rolls his eyes in disbelief.

“I actually really love planets and space. I think all the planets should be respected and taken care of.”

“There are planets everywhere. With ‘scientist’ being the most popular career today, a lot of people like planets and space. What makes you special?”

“Okay, I did not expect to be attacked with such a specific question. I would have thought someone just mobbed by a bunch of Earth-haters would be more peaceful.”

“Fine, okay. I’ll chill. Sorry, I get like weirdly honest and attacky when I’m drunk.”

“It’s alright.” A silence envelopes your conversation again. “Do you like seriously, really want to go to Earth?”

“Mhm.” Yoongi nods, turning his head to look at you again wondering about the thoughts going through your mind.

It’s probably the exhilaration of finally getting to talk to this guy you’ve never really been able to talk to before that gives you the courage to suggest this dumb, fun idea. “I feel the same way. Well, I think we should go. Together.”

“Now?”

“Uh, I mean, shouldn’t we plan it or something?”

“I’m a really good pilot, and I keep a go-bag in my ship for emergencies. I actually have this whole plan made and prepared for going to Earth. I just never had enough courage to act on it. Though knowing someone else is into going to Earth, I’m really down now.”

“Wow, I didn’t think me wanting to go to Earth would motivate you that much.”

“You’re that cool, Y/N.” Now, you’re blushing a little and turn away humbled by his compliment. You never really go out that much, so actually going to Earth is really wild for you, but your adrenaline is running so hard that you actually agree to this foolish plan.

“Sure.” You nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I just need to pick up some things from my house.”

“Won’t your parents be weird about you coming home and then disappearing for an extended period of time?”

“Psh, no they’re off on a business trip. What about your parents?”

“I have no idea why, but they’re cool with this Earth trip, as long as I let them know.”

“What? Are they insane? This is illegal and dangerous.”

“They’re that cool too.” He giggles, thinking his repeated statement is somehow clever. Then he unlocks his ship. “Get in.”

“Alright.” You climb in and watch as he almost trips getting inside.

“Wait, are you still drunk?”

“Mhm.” He nods, putting his keys in the ignition.

“Uh no, no. No drunk piloting.”

“Okay, then you pilot.” He takes out the keys and hands them to you, almost getting out of his seat.

“I’ve never piloted before, and I’m a little drunk too.” You hand the keys back to him. He looks at you, a little shocked expression on his face.

“You took AP Mechanics, but you’ve never flown a spaceship before?”

“No,” A little smirk crawls onto your face remembering that one time during a quiz when Yoongi got called out for not knowing what a car was. “But at least I know what a car is.”

“Okay, okay.” His cheeks are red, you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or him being embarrassed. You didn’t bother looking at his face for so long earlier, too shy after your proposal. “Lemme sober up, then we’ll go.”

It’s like two hours later, and your third time using your portable breathalyzer on Yoongi, and he’s still drunk. For most of the time, silence fills the ship. Yoongi lets out an aggressive exhale of frustration, then starts digging into his pocket for something. A few seconds later, a joint and a lighter appear in his hand.

“You want a hit?” He asks you more casually than he should be asking. Yoongi’s calm tone makes it sound like you smoke weed with Yoongi frequently, which you don’t.

“What the fuck, Yoongi? This planet is so strict on drugs, how did you even get that?”

“Shh, don’t worry about it. Also please stop attacking me with your words. I’m about to pilot us to Earth, I’m a lil’ stressed. I don’t need your bitchy voice stressing me out more.”

“Okay, fine. But you know this is an oxygen rich environment, so you shouldn’t have any open flames. Also, YOU’RE TRYING TO GET SOBER. Please don’t get high in the process of so-called sobering up, you idiot.”

He rolls his eyes, and puts the joint and lighter in the console between you two. “Noted for the next time I want to smoke in an oxygen pod.”

“How about we talk to pass the time?”

“Genius idea. What do you want to talk about?”

“What do you want to do? After this, after high school.”

“Study to be a nuke engineer. Blow things up, boom boom. I love the idea of destroying villages.”

You look at him, with a confused expression unsure if he’s being serious or sarcastic. “Really?”

He looks at you too, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess. I mean, like seriously I want to be a nuclear engineer, but I’m just all morally conflicted about it for the reasons I listed before. A lot nuclear engineers end up working in the war industry, and I don’t know if I want to deal with all the morality in that without being willing to put myself on the line or experiencing these things face first. I’d want to experience the war first.”

“Have you ever considered joining the military?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a nuclear engineer, but only recently I’ve been thinking about the military. I actually have an intent to register, like one of those physical contract things. Probably going to be shipped off to some basic training by the end of this summer.”

“Wow, that’s wild.” It really is. There’s a high likelihood of him dying while in the military, considering all the interplanetary wars going on right now, but there are also many benefits for joining—discounts on anything you can think of, free education, free healthcare that actually works.

“I’ll be studying while serving, then I’ll probably leave and do something with my degree. I don’t really want to die.”

“Good idea.”

“Yeah,” He chuckles, thinking about his fragile morality. “Speaking of good ideas, what good ideas do you have for your future?”

“Well, I’m going off to another planet for immersive university studies. Obviously, like everyone everywhere I’m going to be a scientist. Though, I’m lucky enough to have already scored a spot in a study, which I’ll probably end up dedicating my life to.”

“Not nearly as wild as my plans, but safe.”

“Yeah, but I really want to get out more, but I’m already kind of locked in to my future.”

“Well, good thing we’re going to Earth then.”

author’s note The chapters are relatively short, but I’m splitting them because each chapter has a corresponding song. Lmbf was inspired by “Youth” by Troye Sivan, “Secret” by WJSN, and “Run” by BTS. Parts of each song have inspired parts of each chapter, but each song has its own dedicated chapter. “Youth” is this chapter’s main song.

main masterlist

[grassy-atlanta]

Lotura Oneshot - Museum AU

Part One It had started simply enough, when Coran had decided to take his promotion to the other side of the museum, leaving a spot empty for a new, maybe younger curator-to-be to fill the spot. Allura had been curious as to who would take the job - never expecting a young man or woman to be competent enough to Corans’ standards… How she had been surprised when a tall, young, lean man with hair that cascaded down his back had been up to par and earned such a nice position. Now here she was, trying to get to know the young man, slightly older than her, but still so enticing in that she might be able to exchange ideas and theories on art and history and so many other subjects covered in their degrees and their workplace. How hard he had made it, too. He had politely introduced himself as Lotor Galrea, a graduate of Harvard with plans to secure a permanent, comfortable position in a museum one day, with daydreams of owning a personal museum floating just out of reach. For now. He was ambitious and active, courteous to every visitor and great with children, too! He was an amazing addition to the staff, if only he wasn’t so cool towards Allura every chance he had. It became such a thorn in her side, that he would give her a smile that altogether seemed sly and untrustworthy when no one was looking or ignore her emails until just the last minute. He would stride through the museum as if he was the one in charge, and not the other way around - well, not in charge of the museum, but he should have been differing to her as his senior regarding the museum. Months had gone by and his behavior, though not worsening, hadn’t improved whatsoever. He continued to leave her on a back burner, even in situations that required him to go to her for approval or advice. She sat in her office to eat lunch or left the building entirely to grab a bite with her friend Hunk at his restaurant where she would meet up with several of their mutual friends. “Allura, it sounds like you’re starting to hate your job.” Pidge, the tech graduate offered solemnly when no one else would speak up to her 20 minute tirad of Lotors’ recent bout of disrespect. “What? Impossible, you’re not hearing me correctly, then. I could never hate my work, I love it...I just…” “He’s ruining it for you. You’re dreading going to work because you know he’ll be there and he’s never had a sick day in the entire time he’s been there. You said it yourself you were glad you caught the flu last week because it would get you away from him.” Shiro was blunt, though he meant well. He was probably less blunt than Hunk would be about it, but he did have a point. She went to work hoping she wouldn’t see his absurdly expensive looking overcoat on the employees break room, that served more as a mudroom than a break room. Allura looked to her friends with a slightly hopeless look, “What can I do? I avoid him when I can but I run the department we both work in. Coran is so busy these days, how do I...I don’t want to leave, I love this museum, I can’t just leave it.” “Woah, we aren’t asking you to leave it, we’re just pointing out the obvious. He’s making your work life miserable.” Lance sounded defensive, but his concern was just as genuine as the others, if not more so. He and Allura had tried to  see how things could go romantically between them and, though things hadn’t turned the way he’d hoped, she had been overjoyed when he still wished to remain friends. All throughout her last couple of years in college, she had needed all of her friends, sometimes apart from the others, but all of them had helped her see things in ways she couldn’t have seen them on her own. “Maybe,” Keith piped up, all eyes going to the dark haired, often brooding, one of the group, “Maybe he’s just competing with you. You’re both young, it isn’t very common in your line of work. Most people you work with are Corans’ age or older, right? So maybe he’s just got the mindset that you’re both competing for job security.” “Huh, true enough. Good thinking, Keith.” Shiro grinned, clapping a hand on Keiths’ shoulder and looking at Allura with an encouraging smile. She held a special respect for Keith and regarded his advice highly - they’d both been through some tough times and sometimes, when she was feeling at her worst, Keith was the one who silently reached out and reassured her just by being around to listen or occupy space. Sometimes he came to the museum with lunch when she was quiet. She knew he was checking on her for the sake of all of them, but he did it in such a subtle, non-invasive way, she hadn’t asked him to stop. “Have you talked to him? Like, have you set aside any time to specifically talk to him about your dynamic with him?” Pidge asked, taking a sip of her cherry-cola italian soda. Hunk was always finding ways of making healthier versions of all the junky drinks and foods they all liked. “Well, no,” the dark skinned woman stammered, nervously tucking a strange of hair behind a delicately pointed ear. They all knew what it meant - that she was anxious in not wanting to do the very thing she probably already knew she needed to do. “Well, then! You know what you should do. Try and get him alone, just talk to him, see how things are. He may not even realize he’s being a total ass-hat!” Lance crowed, earning an elbow to his side from Keith who was busy apologizing to an older couple for the language. Allura gave a short, unexpected giggle before they were all laughing with each other at the so typical behavior of Lance. When they finally sobered up from their sudden and much needed joy, Allura glanced at her watch and decided to head back, nervously thinking of how to get Lotor alone to ask him and maybe discuss with him their strange relationship. All she had wanted was a friend, but now she felt as if he was almost an enemy. She wasn’t excited for such a confrontation but like her friends had said, maybe it’s what she needed. Maybe she had perceived his behavior as something different from what he had intended the whole time! With that in mind, Allura tucked her lunch in her arms and headed for a waiting taxi to take her back to work.

[vvigilantes]

Best Laid Plans pt. 1

Pairing: Hvitserk x Reader Words: 3,563 Summary: The classic “our asshole mutual friends set us up on a blind date and didn’t tell us it was a blind date, so instead of getting to know each other we spent the entire “date” scheming against them and decided an awesome way to get back at them would be to pretend to date and then have a horrendous breakup but now we’re two months into this charade and I’m not sure what’s real and what’s fake anymore” AU. Warnings: None. A/N: SURPRISE BITCH @sweetvengeancee I TOLD YOU YOU WERE GETTING A PRESENT WHEN YOU WOKE UP (p.s. you’re not a bitch and ily) Tagging @geminized @rachiieee @zombiexbody Let me know if you would like to be tagged in part 2 or any of my other works!

You were going to kill your friend. You already had it all planned out, too; you would suggest taking a road trip, maybe even try out camping, and then smother them in their sleep. You hadn’t figured out what you would tell everyone when you were the only one that returned from your little excursion, but that could be decided later.

...Or maybe you just needed to cut back on watching all those true crime shows.

It was your best friend’s idea, originally. She had been gushing about a man she met at a bar one night, Ubbe was his name if you were remembering correctly, and had been wanting to the two of you to meet ever since. You had to admit that you wanted to see if he lived up to all they hype, but then she started talking about the fact that he had a brother.

You were suspicious at first -this wouldn’t be the first time she tried to set you up- but you got caught up in her excitement and had actually started looking forward to the get together. It would you and her, along with Ubbe, his brother, and a couple of friends from both parties.

Just a small gathering for everyone to meet, she said. It’ll be fun, she said.

And then she’d gone and gotten herself “sick.” She canceled on you the night before the big day, your other friend who was supposed to be going calling you soon after that and claiming food poisoning. You tried to convince them to just reschedule it, that it was no big deal if the big meet up was pushed back another week, but they weren’t having any of it.

You didn’t know until you had almost made it to the restaurant that a similar fate had befallen Ubbe’s group, all except his brother, thanks to a suspiciously cheerful text. He was already seated at a table when you arrived, a table that was clearly only for two and you were certain this was the plan all along.

You slid into the seat across from him, pleasantly surprised with what you saw. At least he was attractive.

“Let me guess,” he said in lieu of a customary greeting, his eyebrows raised in inquiry, “Margo and Ella are sick?”

You nodded. “And Ubbe and Ivar had last minute work emergencies, didn’t they?” He hummed in agreement, nibbling on a piece of complimentary bread. He should have guessed this was going to happen, in all honesty. Ubbe was acting too enthusiastic about the meeting, it had even rubbed off on Ivar and that should have been his first clue that something was up.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” He said suddenly, leaning forward with mischief sparking to life in his eyes. “We’re going to give those matchmaking bastards exactly what they want.” It took you a moment to get his meaning, but when you did there was no stopping your grin.

“Hvitserk, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

You clinked your glasses together to seal the plan and spent the rest of your “date” scheming of ways to make your friends pay for their sins.

                                                                     ✥ ✥ ✥

Maybe this is a bad idea, you thought to yourself as you smoothed your hands down your dress. It had been a week since you and Hvitserk decided on a plan to get back at your friend and his brother for setting the two of you up, but now that the first actual date was nearing you were starting to get nervous.

It was nothing too fancy thank goodness, only a double date with Ella and Ubbe. The brothers both liked pool, so when Ella had brought up the idea of doubling up after hearing how great the first date went with you and Hvitserk, it was a no brainer.

That being said, you still felt the anxiety swirling in your belly. The two of you had decided to only proper way to go about this was to lay it on thick in order to make Ella and Ubbe really believe you had some connection and begin to get emotionally invested in your relationship. Which, naturally, meant a lot of touching and kissing and flirting outrageously.

You were a somewhat shy individual, at least in the sense that PDA wasn’t your favorite thing in the world because that would mean multiple sets of eyes on you. You tried to push those thoughts from your head, instead taking one last look in the mirror before you grabbed your purse and stepped into your shoes, psyching yourself up all the while.

Your phone pinged from somewhere in your purse and you fished it out, a smile pulling on your lips despite your nerves when you saw who the message was from.

You ready?

As part of the act, Hvitserk would be picking you up.

Yup, are you on your way?

Heading up now.

What couldn’t have been more than a minute passed, and then someone was knocking on the door of your apartment. Shaking your head you went to answer it, greeted with the sight of him dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a white tshirt, his hair tied up.

He whistled lowly when he saw your outfit, eyes looking you up and down. “Way to make me feel underdressed, babe.” You rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully, locking the door behind you after double checking you had everything.

“This is supposed to be our first actual date, isn’t it? I wanted to look nice,” You defended yourself with flushed cheeks, linking your arm through his.

“Are you so madly in love me already that you want to dress up for me?” He teased, leaning closer as you walked.

“Madly in love? That’s a little much, don’t you think? You’re...adequate.” You sniffed in an unimpressed tone, trying to not smile.

“Adequate? Adequate?!” He cried, swaying dramatically on his feet, his hand clutching at his chest. “You wound me!”

You laughed at his theatrics and didn’t notice how well the conversation went after the quips ended some, ebbing and flowing naturally as the two of you walked to the pool hall which was, thankfully, not all that far from your complex.

When the two of you walked in the door you were both laughing, Hvitserk having launched into rather embarrassing story about a younger Ubbe two thirds of the way over. You were hanging onto Hvitserk’s arm as best as you could while he gestured wildly to go along with his story, trying to stay upright. Seeing your struggle he slipped the arm you were clutching around your waist and kept you against his side, gesturing with his free hand now as you made your way over to the booth.

“Ubbe! I was just telling Y/N here about that one time in high school where you-”

“That’s enough, Hivtserk.” The elder brother cut him off, giving him a pointed look while Ella  snickered. She’d definitely have to ask you to relay the story when you were out of earshot of a self conscious Ubbe.

“You look like you’re having fun,” She said meaningfully to you when the brothers start to bicker, nudging your foot underneath the table. You rolled your eyes and and tried shrugging it off, but you felt the tell tale heat go to your cheeks.

It wasn’t long before your dates to challenged each other to a game of pool, and Hvitserk turned to expectantly and tapped his lips. “Give me a good luck kiss?”

Ubbe snorted, having just stood from the booth after having gotten a peck from himself from Ella. “Believe me, he needs it.”

Hvitserk didn’t answer, instead focusing on you. You’d both agreed that kisses had to be included in your little scheme in order to really sell it, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He saw the uncertainty flash in your eyes before you covered it up, pleasantly surprised when you leaned over with a little smile.

“Good luck,” You whispered just before pressing your lips to his, pulling away after only a couple seconds, blushing self consciously. He beamed, hopping up and pointing a finger at his brother.

“You’re going down.”

Hvitserk was the one that ended up going down and was trying to get his third rematch of the night while you and Ella laughed, near hysterics as Ubbe danced victoriously around the table.

He walked you home after that, an arm slung around your waist again. You talked animatedly about your favorite TV shows, discussing your individual theories when it turned out you watched some of the same things.

You said goodbye at your door with a friendly hug and you didn’t have to wait long for Ella to call and start interrogating you about how much you liked Hvitserk, obviously pleased with herself.

                                                                     ✥ ✥ ✥

You went on your second date all by your lonesome, both of you agreeing that to make the ruse as believe as possible you had to actually go on dates, instead of trying to make up stories on the fly that could be misremembered and there was always the chance that you could give two different stories.

You had suggested a movie date, a classic that you couldn’t really go wrong with. You let Hvitserk pick the film you would see together, having not seen any trailers lately that really stood out to you. It backfired.

That evening, he had picked you up like normal, though he wouldn’t tell you what you were going to see no matter how much you begged him. You had even tried to bribe him with what you knew was a favorite food of his; chocolate chip cookies. You didn’t have any on you, but you had told him that you would make some especially for him, the curiosity eating you up inside.

It took a feat of strength, but he held out until you reached your destination and your stomach dropped to your feet.

“A horror movie? Really, Hvitserk?” Your tone was apprehensive and you chewed lightly on your bottom lip; you scared embarrassingly easy sometimes.

“I’ll be right beside you the entire time, love.” Hvitserk soothed, the pet name leaving his mouth without a second thought. You still looked less than excited so he pulled you into a hug, turning the both of you to start walking to get your tickets a few moments later, keeping an arm over your shoulders.

“Come on, it’ll be fine. It’s supposed to be really good, if that makes it any better.” He pecked your temple and looked almost pleadingly at you. If you really didn’t want to see it there wouldn’t be any hard feelings, but he could still try.

You sucked your teeth for a moment and then blew out a sigh, no match for his puppy eyes. “Fine, but if I have nightmares after this I’m blaming you.”

“Then you’ll just have to dream of me instead.” He smirked without missing a beat, and you shoved him over, his laughter ringing in your ears while your face went red.

“You’re horrible, you know that?” To your credit, you managed to sound angry instead of laughing with him.

“You love it,” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, excitedly dragging you over to the concessions stand when you gave in and laughed.

Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad after all.

The first half of the movie was bearable, though the jump scares almost made you shriek a couple times and there was that one that almost made the popcorn fly out of your hands. Hvitserk would lean over every few minutes to whisper in your ear, trying to distract you with commentary so you wouldn’t be as afraid.

You appreciated his efforts, you really did, but the feeling of his warm breath against your ear and neck was starting to make you forget this wasn’t an actual date, that this was more or less supposed to be two friends hanging out.

That, and the fact that it wasn’t quite enough to keep you from being terrified. Towards the end of the movie you were practically in his lap, your hands over your mouth and ready to cover your eyes at a moment’s notice.

You breathed a shaking sigh of relief when the lights finally came back on, the end credits rolling across the screen.

You had to admit, it was actually pretty good. When it wasn’t scaring the crap out of. Hvitserk looked over at you, raising his eyebrows and waiting to hear what you thought of the movie.

You grabbed the piece of candy he was about to eat out of his hand, stood, and pointed a finger at him. “I’m blaming you.”

You were still jumpy when he said goodbye, the friendly hug at your door lasting a little longer in order to give you a reassuring squeeze. After you shut the door you hurried to turn on all the lights in your apartment, not being able to stand the dark at the moment. Maybe in a couple hours if you wound down enough, but you didn’t know for sure.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard your phone ring, brows furrowing in confusion when you saw the name on your screen. “Hvitserk? I only saw you ten minutes ago, are you alright?” You wracked your brain to think of why he would call after only just seeing you, but came up empty handed.

“I’m supposed to be the one asking that question.” He scolded, and you could practically hear him pouting through the line. Your fear was momentarily forgotten, instead your attention switching to teasing him.

“Aww,” You cooed, “are you calling to make sure I’m not scared?”

“Like any good fake boyfriend should do.” You snorted, ignoring the weird little tug your heart did at the word ‘fake.’ You pushed it to the side, instead listening to the sound of his voice once you put your phone on speaker so you could put it down and change into your pajamas for the night.

“Shall I tell Ubbe that you ended up in my lap by the end of it?”

“I did not!” You cried indignantly, your voice tapering off into a huff of laughter.

“Okay okay, almost in my lap.” He amended, grinning into the receiver. He was discovering that he liked spending time with you, even if it all it had been so far was for show. He almost wanted to thank Ubbe for setting him up with you; if nothing else, he had the feeling you two would remain good friends after you broke up.

“Ella will be over the moon, you know she hasn’t shut up about how great a matchmaker she is.” That made him chuckle, a low, raspy sound that made you bite your lip.

“Ubbe hasn’t either, he’s very pleased with himself.”

The two of you talked for almost an hour and half when you finally started to yawn, your eyelids drooping as you shifted into a more comfortable position on your bed.

Forty-five minutes after that the two of you gave in and hung up, both ready to fall asleep still on the phone if you didn’t say goodbye. You couldn’t remember the last time you had spent such a long time talking to someone on the phone that wasn’t Ella or Margo, usually avoiding it like the plague.

Hvitserk fell asleep on his couch with his phone pressed into his cheek mere minutes after hanging up, something that his brother teased him endlessly for the next morning when he finally woke up.

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Your third date was another double date with Ubbe and Ella, you and her having mentioned being excited for the fair that was came to the city every autumn. You always chickened out of the rides, your mother having instilled a healthy caution of pop up attractions, but you were looking forward to the plethora of fried food and arcade games.

You and Ella got ready together this time, chatting amicably at her place while you waited for the boys to show up. Ella was trying to dig gossip out of you and you her, and thankfully you got her started on explaining how great a kisser Ubbe apparently was and saved you from trying to think of anything romantic to say about Hvitserk. You buried the twinge of jealousy you felt deep, instead occupying your mind with thoughts of cotton candy and winning games.

Hvitsek and Ubbe showed up right on time and the four of you walked out into the chill of the air, the sun just starting to set as you all headed off. You all teased each other endlessly on the way there, all claiming that you would leave the others in the dust and win all of the games you played, being as competitive as you all were.

The first order of business at the fair was food, hungry from your walk over. You opted to share a large order of nachos with everything on them, you and Hvitserk fighting over who got the most olives and tomatoes. Ubbe and Ella were more than happy to let you two have them; they were too busy trying to get the most cheese on their chips.

You ended up splitting up shortly after that with plans of meeting back up in an hour or so to go through the funhouse together. You and Hvitserk stopped for cotton candy before you made it to the games, both unable to resist the call of the sweet treat.

“So,” he started, taking another bite of cotton candy and gesturing to the rows of prizes lined up at the game booth you had come to stand in front of. It was a classic, rows of old style milk bottles lined up that you had to knock down in order to win. “Which one do you want?”

He asked it casually, watching your face as you tapped your chin, acting deep in contemplation. “Mm….That one.” You pointed towards the top row at a stuffed purple dragon, not being able to resist your favorite color.

“Say no more,” Hvitserk finished the last bite of his cotton candy and clapped his hands together in determination, stepping up to the game. You laughed, thinking his resolve was adorable.

Based on his performance in the pool hall on your first date, you weren’t expecting him to actually win the damn thing.

Your mouth was open slightly as he presented you with the prize, having won it for you in one attempt, knocking down the three milk bottle pyramids with surprisingly ease. “M’lady,” He said with a flourish, even bowing before you as he held up the plush.

You blushed, hugging the toy and rolling your eyes when he straightened, grinning proudly. “You are an idiot,” You tried to downplay his actions, finding yourself irrationally charmed.

Instead of taking offense he just snorted and threw an arm around you, the action having become more or less a habit by now, and led you off to another game.

By the time you met back up with Ella and Ubbe the two of you were tied, having made a bet after he won you your dragon that whoever wins the most games from there on out would make the other whatever they wanted. He turned down your offer of chocolate chip cookies once and he would not be missing out on the chance to taste your food again.

The funhouse, thankfully, was not terrible. It certainly wasn’t as scary as the movie you’d been dragged to, and by the end of it you’d actually started trying to scare each other in order to make up for the lack. Carnival mirrors could only go so far with four twenty somethings with sugar rushes.

Ella and Ubbe had called it a night after that, and by the looks they were giving each other you knew exactly why. Before they left you made her promise to call you the next day to spill all the details.

Hvitserk and you, on the other hand, stayed later, each not wanting to leave without someone winning the bet. It was sometime between then and walking out of the carnival, arms around each other’s middles as you tried to keep hold of your respective prizes that you realized you had a serious problem.

The warm fuzzy feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that without his brother and your friend around to convince, Hvitserk was simply acting like a good friend, nothing more. You should be more grateful that he was such a good sport about everything, not pushing you or making you uncomfortable when you were acting in front of Ubbe or Ella or both of them, instead going off of your cues. You had kissed several more times after the first good luck peck, sometimes quick and sometimes not, but the kisses had always been to sell the act and Hvitserk turned out to be a great performer.

When you finally said goodbye for the night, you realized that you didn’t like not winning the bet as much as you didn’t like that none of it was real.