#and that Beast is bad at setting up double dates

[ihavethedreamies]

Expert | Easy to Expert (3 v7)

Lee Yongbok (Felix) & Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.6k

Felix/AFAB!Reader/Bang Chan

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff, Fluffy Smut

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Lingerie, Pet Names (Love, Pumpkin, Baby Girl, etc.), Multiple Partners, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Sixty-Nine, Threesome, Double Penetration, Anal Play, Sex Toys - Butt Plugs, Anal Sex, Bang Chan has a Monster Cock (of course), Cockbulge (hmm), Unprotected Sex (Bad Idea, Don't Do It), Daddy Kink gets awakened, this is actually really soft and fluffy believe it or not, Bromance

Disclaimer: I do have the whole cock-bulge thing in this. I understand this could be a bit offensive to some who are on the heavier side (I am in that group as well). Sorry if this doesn't align with your body type, this is just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: This is the last one I am writing in this series, so let's see what absolute nonsense shows up here. I'm going to TRY and tone it down…

PS. I wrote the first not before I wrote the story, and this is after. This went a COMPLETELY different direction than I thought it would. Get ready for tooth rotting fluff AND smut.

PPS. Bang Chan is my bias and Felix my bias wrecker so that is why this one ended up like this…

-> Series Hub <-

-> Part 1 <-

-> Part 2 <-

-> Ver. I.N. <-

-> Ver. Seungmin <-

-> Ver. Hyunjin <-

-> Ver. Han <-

-> Ver. Lee Know <-

-> Ver. Changbin <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"What?" Chan stopped dead in his tracks, Felix continuing past him. He thought for a second that he was hearing things, or someone else's conversation. The younger man stopped as well, turning back to his best friend.

"(Y/N) wants a threesome, you in?"

"Why are you asking me?" Chan sputtered and Felix shrugged casually.

"She asked for you specifically so…"

"She asked for ME?"

"Yes?" Chan's head was swimming. He had to admit, ever since he found out a few months ago you couldn't cum, he was looping in his head. It wasn't romantic intentions behind him trying to figure out what he could do for you…Not at all. He had been trying to convince himself he no longer had romantic feelings for you, especially since you started dating Felix. It was obvious to the others, even Felix, but he appreciated that his hyung denied it even to himself.

"Are you sure?" The eldest of the group asked your boyfriend.

"I wouldn't be asking you if I wasn’t. She picked you like a month and half ago, I've had time to think about it." Felix huffed, amused. Chan was getting flustered, and the younger man knew why.

"Are you thinking tonight?" They were already on their way to your apartment for movie night.

"Well…yeah. We can move it though."

"You really think I can just sit and watch a movie with you two now?" Chan shook his head, but continued walking. Felix fell into stride next to him and they continued to your place.

Felix messaged you when they were about fifteen minutes out, and you scrambled off the couch to get ready. To say you were excited was an understatement. But you were also lowkey terrified. It was not a hidden fact among the friend group what Chan was packing. You had even heard from other girls on campus. Not a traditional player by any means, he had been around the block. He was an incredibly sweet gentleman, but a lot of girls just wanted to fuck him to say they conquered the beast. That was literally what they said. The thought made you shiver as you prepared. Stepping out of the bathroom, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Felix had gotten you a set of wolf cosplay lingerie, fitting for Chan. It was more or less a bikini lined with gray fur. The silicone plug he got you a month ago now had a grey furry tail attached; the texture tickled the backs of your thighs. A matching headband with grey ears sat on your head, it was a little too big though, so you hoped it stayed on. Furry cuffs surrounded your ankles and wrists as well. The bottoms of the set were more like shorts than panties, but there was a hole cut out of the crotch which gave access to your cunt as well as let the tail plug sitting in your ass. You shook your arms to get rid of some of the nerves. Though, they just came back two-fold when you heard your boyfriend and his friend arrive. Your shaking increased as you padded to stand at the foot of your bed, waiting for them to remove their coats and shoes and meet you in the bedroom.

"Go on, bro." Felix told Chan, his accented English hitting your ears. Were they going to speak like that the whole night? Fuck yeah.

"Oh, baby girl!" Chan was floored as he entered your room. You looked so fucking cute, his heart thumped hard, and he felt his pulse in his cock too. The pet-name did stuff to your insides, and you nervously wiggled, the tail wagging a bit from the momentum. To be honest, before you and Felix hooked up, you were tempted to go to Chan. With his reputation, you were sure he could have managed, but you in no way regretted that it was Felix. Your boyfriend followed him in and came to admire you as well. You turned toward him as he settled only a foot away from you.

"Good job, love." He praised and you both turned back to Chan. He was still gaping, and you were still too nervous to look him over completely. He just had grey sweatpants on and a black sweatshirt. You desperately wanted him to take it off so you could get a better look at him. You had seen his perfect body many times, but you wanted to touch it. Your fingers fidgeted with themselves, the black painting nails at the ends catching Chan's eye.

"Rules?" You prompted Felix and he looked at you, back to his friend then shook his head.

"Just tell him no if you want." he told you and you blinked, then again. Seriously? He would let his friend kiss you? Fuck your holes and fill you with his cum? That was four of the rules out the window. Plus, if he wasn't going to lead Chan through this, then the final one was trashed as well. The thought made your core clench as you finally looked back to the other Australian.

"Go on." Felix assured you and you took a hesitant step forward, then trotted over to Chan who was still looking at you in awe. His hair was brushed up and back some, framing his forehead. You would have been fine just looking over every detail of his handsome face, but you needed even more. Your small hands went to the zipper of his hoodie, and he let you pull it down. He huffed at your pout when you saw he had a t-shirt underneath.

"It's below freezing out there, baby girl." He told you, amused by your reaction. You mumbled something incoherent, and he laughed. The sound pierced you, made you let out a small whimper, pushing his sweatshirt off. He continued to watch, amused, casting a glance at Felix who looked just as entertained by you. You took a deep breath, sneaking your hands under his shirt and mewling as your warm fingertips brushed over the ridges of his abs. With his assistance, you removed the shirt completely and Felix saw your thighs clench. While he wasn't thrilled by how turned on you were already, he wasn't too surprised either. You were honest with him and admitted you almost went to the eldest for assistance before you and Felix got together. He appreciated your honesty, and therefore trusted you. Didn't mean his pride wasn't a little hurt.

"Oh, my god." You gasped out, your touch tickling Chan some. He laughed, his gorgeous smile distracting you for a second.

"Can I kiss her, 'Lix?" Chan asked politely and you leaned in some more.

"Yeah, I guess." Your boyfriend allowed and you let him kiss you. He was rough, more so than you expected. Chan knew better, he was there to fuck you, not make love to you. He would leave the sensual kisses to Felix. He tilted his head, his hand going to the back of yours and his slid his tongue in your mouth. You keened at the feeling. He was good. Too good. You pulled back a trail of saliva connecting your mouths.

"D-don't do that again." You muttered, your face red. He nodded, humming in agreement. Felix snorted playfully. His trust was well placed. Not wanting to step over the line, Chan stayed mostly still as you sank to your knees before him. Seeing him shirtless in the grey sweatpants was already sinfully attractive, you wondered what he would be like fully naked. An adonis carved out of marble for sure. There was already a bulge from his hardening cock, but it was mostly hidden by the thick material. He laughed at your eagerness as you hastily pulled the waist band away. Your eyes widened as he stepped out of his pants. He was nowhere near being fully hard, but his black briefs were already straining.

"Fuck." You wheezed. You were salivating like the wolf you were dressed as. You fiddled with the tag on the black choker you had on, Felix's name engraved into it. As long as you only fell for Chan's cock, it was fine. You turned to look back at your boyfriend anyway and he gave you a reassuring smile. He had looped over every possible scenario in his head over the last month, knowing to almost a T at that point what would make you react in what way. So far, no surprises. Even though to some you hadn't been dating long, you spent as much time together as possible, so he knew you well. You had been friends for years before then too.

"C-Can you…" You drifted off, wanting to get a good view of Chan's briefs coming off. He smiled and did as you wordlessly requested. He felt a little sheepish under your gaze, honestly, as you ogled him. Adonis indeed. You literally watched his cock harden further under your appreciating gaze. You licked your lips, desperate to wrap them around him. Felix ended up not speaking the rule you had first decided on, but you were a bit worried about what it would do to you to let Chan cum down your throat.

"Can we do something?" Chan suggested, snapping you out of your daze. He also looked at Felix.

"Sixty-nine?" He finished the request and Felix stiffened a bit. Knowing Chan, he might be able to make you cum from that and your boyfriend wasn't sure if he was okay with that. The eldest was definitely the expert of the group and mastered the art of sex like the instruments he could play. But, when he looked into your big, pleading eyes, he couldn't say no. With a slow nod you hopped to your feet giddily and Chan chuckled, following you to the bed. He nodded for you to climb over him once he was on his back. Straddling his face, he wrapped the tail around his hand just to hold it out of the way. The panties gave him perfect access, the fur ticking his cheeks a bit though.

"Sit on me, baby girl." He urged and you lowered your hips. You weren't expecting the immediate pleasure you got from his tongue. He immediately swirling it around your clit, sucking hard. You gasped, falling forward, finding the head of his now fully hard cock in front of you. Once again, your eyes met Felix's and he nodded. Eagerly, you wrapped your hand around Chan's cock, your fingers not even able to touch. You wrapped your eager lips around the head, your jaw protesting some at the stretch. Chan rumbled under you; his strong arms surrounded your thighs to hold you where he wanted you. Your moan vibrated through his dick as you got as much as him as you could in your mouth. It would be too dangerous for you to let him into your throat, you had to center yourself by finding Felix again. He loved that you kept thinking of him throughout. It was also more arousing than he thought it would be, seeing your mouth full of his best friend's fat cock. Chan ate you like a man starved and your boyfriend could see the characteristic twitch in your hips that meant you were close. You were more shocked than Felix that the other man was getting you to the edge so fast. His hand twisted in the tail again, tugging it slightly, and took your clit between his teeth, rolling it and you fell forward as you came, swallowing his cock deeper. Chan grinned as your cunt dripped on his tongue and he let the tail go, letting your orgasm ride out. When you came down, you pulled him out of your mouth, panting for breath.

"Okay, baby girl." Chan eased you to roll off of him, you landed on your back, still breathing harshly. Tears pricked your eyes and Felix instantly came to your side, petting your head softly, shushing you. You looked at him, so pitifully, ready to cry.

"Hey, shh, love." His heart broke seeing you like that and Chan got up on his knees next to you. He could tell you were crying from emotions, not physical feelings, but he still felt bad. At the same time, he was extremely proud of himself for making you cum like that. He had satisfied the goal he set in the past, not ever thinking to dust it off and complete it. Chan's heart thudded again, this time in sorrow. You were too precious.

"I'm sorry, Felix." Your breath hitched and he leaned down to kiss your forehead, petting your hair. Instantly he felt bad for feeling jealous.

"Love, (Y/N), its fine. I'm not mad." He chuckled a bit to reassure you.

"Really?"

"Yes, sweet. I just want you to feel good, okay?" He hummed and you nodded, sniffling. Chan finally saw the relationship dynamic you two really had. It was a dominance and submissive one, but Felix played the role so softly. And you were so cute with it, not a hint of being a brat.

"You want to keep going, baby girl?" Chan made sure and you nodded shyly. He smiled warmly and helped you sit up, removing the loose headband so you could stop fiddling with it.

"Can I take all this off her?" Chan asked and Felix nodded. You sat there like a good girl as Chan gently undid and removed everything from you but the black choker. He even took the tail off the plug, leaving the silicone toy inside you. The other man also took the tie from your hair, letting it fall over your shoulders. The way he looked at you actually warmed Felix's heart. He also knew if you asked him, he would be open to letting Chan in on your relationship. If it was him…he could share you. That was something to bring up later though. You shivered a bit, now a tad chilly and Felix smiled, climbing on the bed to hug you from behind.

"Good girl." He soothed and helped Chan maneuver you to sit on his lap, back to him. Felix placed a soft kiss to your lips, and you whined at the feeling of Chan's cock wedged in the cleft of your ass. Felix had decided not to turn the vibrations on, planning it as a surprise. The encounter turned out to be softer than he originally thought it would be.

"What're you thinking, 'Lix?" Chan knew him too well, could see the gears turning. His eyes met the eldest's and you looked up at him too. His eyes cast to yours. It wasn't a secret that you had a huge crush on Chan about a year ago, but you never pursued it. Little did you know, Chan had liked you too, for a while. He didn't even piece together, that's what it was at first, but Felix knew. Even when Chan would deny it to himself, Felix knew. Felix could still sense your love for himself, but he also saw how you looked at his best friend.

"You want him too?" Felix asked and you didn't understand the question at first. Wasn't that why he was there? The other man figured it out immediately though.

"Felix-"

"I'm not stupid, hyung." He huffed playfully and his true meaning registered.

"Felix?" you asked him, implying your question in your tone. Are you sure?

"We can discuss it after, but don't feel guilty." Your boyfriend kissed you softly on your cheek under your eye.

"Want him here?" Felix continued, helping you settle on Chan's lap, stroking his fingers through your soaked folds. You nodded softly, letting the man behind you hold you in his arms. You felt so secure, even more so with Felix there too.

"Think you can make her cum again?" Felix challenged and the other man smirked.

"Let's see." He nuzzled behind your ear, one of his hands sliding down your stomach till his fingers hit your clit. You whimpered as he swirled over it, then slid both fingers home. You sighed as his fingers filled you. They were thicker and longer than Felix's, but just as talented it seemed. His palm rubbed hard over your clit as he scissored the digits in you, the pad of one finding the rough spot on your back wall. You twitched when he rubbed over it and Felix watched the gears turn in Chan's head. His fingers left your core, rubbing back up to your clit, and he exposed the little nub further. He was an expert, Felix decided. He learned your reactions instantly, knowing just what to do next. Chan then fucked three fingers into you, harshly pressed against your further exposed clit with his palm. His fingers crooked hard and up, his palm swirling your clit and you shivered hard, head tossed back to land on his shoulder. You were close. Once again removing his fingers, he took your button between two fingers, pinched hard and pulled your nub, and Felix watched your cunt spasm as you came. The slight bit of jealousy he still felt dissipated when he saw the way Chan looked at you. He nuzzled your temple with his nose as you trembled, kissing the crest of your ear. As you shuddered, coming down again, your head rolled so you could look at him.

"Fill her up, hyung." Felix allowed, smiling as your eyes widened.

"'Lix~" You reached out for him, Chan still loosely hugging you to him. The eldest smiled fondly as Felix came to you, the smile on the other’s face was so warm. Chan could tell how much you two loved each other, and he was honored you both were willing to let him wiggle his way in. When he was within reach, your hands stroked over your boyfriend's pretty freckle covered cheekbones.

"Let’s have Channie fuck you, hm?" He cooed, the words racier than his tone implied. You whined with a nod and Chan chuckled softly at your cuteness. You both were so cute.

"Okay, baby girl. Tell me if it’s too much." The man behind your spoke into your ear, his arms holding you closer, his right hand coming to cup your left breast. You never got much sensation there, but you did flinch a bit when he pinched your nipple. Chan loosened his hold, moving his hands to rest at your hips, and Felix's moved to your waist. You let them move you around like you were a ragdoll till you were kneeling, cunt hovering over Chan's cock.

"Good girl." Felix praised, kissing the corner of your mouth as they both led you to sink on the eldest's dick. The feeling knocked the air out of you, he was so fucking big. You couldn't help but ponder how much bigger he could be if he was taller. He whispered soothing words in your ear, Felix kissing over your collarbone. You breathed, using the same technique as when your boyfriend fucked into your ass. Chan groaned, your cunt was so hot and tight, and he could feel your slick gummy walls perfectly. It made you all the more addicting. He could also feel the bump of the plug in your ass through the walls of your cunt. When Chan felt your cervix kiss the head of his cock, he halted your descent, a good inch or two left.

"M-more." You pressed and Chan rubbed circles over your lower stomach. He smirked, he could feel the bulge of his cock already, and you mewled when he pressed down.

"You sure, baby girl?" Chan's voice had gotten huskier somehow, deeper, rumbling through you. Felix smirked and lowered his voice himself, bringing his mouth to your other ear. What your boyfriend planned on saying next would probably earn him a playful smack later, but he was so eager to see your unfiltered reaction. Your eyes were already blank, nothing but cock on the brain.

"Tell daddy how you want his cock." Felix ordered you and Chan gasped as your cunt squeezed him hard. He huffed, thinking he misheard what Felix whispered to you at first.

"Want daddy deeper~" You whimpered and the men both groaned at your plea.

"Yeah?" Felix teased you further.

"Yes, sir~" You pled to him instead and he smiled. You were too fucking cute. There was a very specific reason Felix preferred you called him sir during sex, and that reason was splitting you open on his cock. At first, he didn't want to use 'daddy' because he was jealous, thinking it might make you think of Chan. Especially since you jokingly called the eldest that all the time. But now…everything worked out perfectly.

"Okay, pumpkin." Your boyfriend's pet name for you changed and the new word made your core pulse around the other's dick. Chan knew that you both went full into roleplay mode at that.

"Daddy~" You whined, and he laughed, acquiescing. You yelped when his hips shifted under him better, letting him thrust up hard, burying his cock all the way in you. Words escaped you, only a string of babbles left you. Felix smiled and shuffled down the bed more. Chan watched, curious, and almost protested as the other man moved. He just let Felix do whatever though. Your legs were spread to sling over Chan's, holding them open. Felix's hands came to your inner thighs, spreading you further and he marveled at your folds straining to take Chan's massive cock. Your entire body jerked when he flicked his tongue at your swollen clit, his tongue lightly brushing over the other's dick. The man's arms tightened a bit around you as you slumped into him further, and with one more flick of Felix's tongue, you fell apart again. At this point, your cunt was burning from the overstimulation, but your boyfriend knew if you got over the crest of pain, you could just keep on going. After your spasms went away, he sat back to just watch again, nodding to Chan.

"Ready, baby girl? Want daddy to fuck ya good?" His hand came to rest under your jaw, putting just enough pressure for you to feel it but not restricting your airway.

"Please!" You mewled, head lolling back and forth. His other hand was still on your stomach, and Felix put his hands on your hips to help, lifting you slightly and pressing you back down as Chan fucked up. You gasped, your cunt stung from the friction, but the pain was so good as the man behind you railed you. It was a good thing Felix was okay with Chan joining, you thought on later, because you didn't think you could live never taking him again. You were definitely a size queen and Felix marveled at you taking his friend like a champ.

"Ah, fuck, (Y/N)~" Chan was getting close, and he looked to your boyfriend, asking permission. Felix looked at your fucked out expression.

"Cum in her." he told Chan, and he got as deep as he could and let go. Your stinging core piqued, the pain burning into pleasure, and you weren't sure if Chan filling you with his sticky cum was what put you over or Felix's voice.

"Oh, good girl~ Fuck!" The man moaned himself as he felt his cum overflow from your cunt and drip down past his balls and onto the bedding. Felix was still rock hard, not having came or been touched at all that night, but he was fine dealing with himself in the shower if you were too tired.

"Felix!" You reached for him again and he came back to you.

"What do you need, pumpkin?"

"You…" You pouted and he smiled bright.

"I don’t think your cute little cunt can handle more." He cooed and Chan huffed playfully. He was still hard and really didn't want to pull out anyway.

"Let’s turn her around." He suggested to the younger man. You keened a bit when they moved you around. When your chest met Chan's, he sunk back into you, the new position and angle let him sink deeper. You shivered, falling into him and he laughed.

"You're so cute." He praised. He was content to let you warm his cock, watching Felix scooch forward. His fingers wrapped around the plug, and you breathed as if through muscle memory as he pulled it out. It clattered onto the floor from his tossing it. Could your body handle him filling your ass with Chan in your pussy? Guess you all would find out soon enough. Your breathing shifted when you felt Felix's cock at your pucker, he barely pressed the tip in as he took the lube Chan had reached for on the nightstand. Drizzling more onto himself, he started to ease inside you. You shivered, your back hole welcoming the familiar intrusion.

"So good, pumpkin." Your boyfriend praised. To get in you best, he had to swing his leg over Chan’s, but he didn't mind. Chan helped him adjust you some and they both let you adjust to being completely full. Each breath you pressed out carried a slight moan and your little noises brought grins to both of the men's faces. After witnessing everything, as well as your even-tighter-than-usual canal clenching his cock, Felix knew he wouldn't last long. Might be for the best anyway considering your physical and mental state. Your nails weekly dug into the skin of Chan's chest where you laid as Felix pumped his hips. His thrusts were short and deep, and your body rocking slightly brushed your sensitive clit against the skin of Chan's pelvis. A defined vein that led down to his cock gave just enough of a differing pressure as you rocked.

"Okay, love, I'll fill you good than you can take a bath. Daddy and I will take care of you tonight and tomorrow." Felix picked the pace of his thrusts up and Chan hissed some as your cunt clenched hard and your nails carved crescents into his skin.

"(Y/N), be a good girl for daddy and cum." Chan's words were all you needed, and you came one more time, Felix spraying your insides white. From the tight clench and the wait, Chan was sensitive himself and you cumming made him fall apart with you two. Even more jizz spurted out from where your body met Chan's and more of the sticky goo leaked from where Felix was inside you. You were a complete mess and Felix wouldn't have it any other way. Your consciousnesses faded, your eyes slipping closed, and the two men praised you for doing such a good job for them. Deciding to just clean you up with a towel for now, Felix helped you rest on your side as you slept, leaving the blanket off you, your skin still hot. Your boyfriend petted your hair as Chan took a quick shower and then they switched places.

"Are you sure?" the eldest asked, stroking your hair softly when Felix sat on the bed behind you.

"You love her, right?"

"I-I…" Chan swallowed hard.

"Hyung?"

"…yes."

"I didn't want to admit it before, but she likes you a lot. I know though that she loves me too…I think she deserves the world, but why not throw the moon in along with it?" Felix meant every word. He loved you so much that he wanted you to be loved twice as much, if not more.

"Well, guess I should change my name to Moon, huh?" Chan huffed and Felix rolled his eyes at the horrible pun.

"Just promise me when you two get married that I can be the best man." The eldest continued and your boyfriend smiled down at you.

"Of course. Wouldn't have anyone else."

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

[embossross]

The Devotion of the Girl in the Mirror

Chapter 4 >> Chapter 5 >> Masterlist

✣ Pairing: Rindou x AFAB fem!Reader w/ a chapter cameo of reader/yuzuha

✣ Warning: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI

✣ Series: part of the In the Belly of the Beast fic universe

✣ Chapter CW: bdsm play feat. reader/yuzuha (gasp!), bondage, overstim, vibrators, exhibitionism, group BDSM feat. 2 other subs getting masturbated (one fem!AFAB and one fem!AMAB, idk crowd jeers, a little bit of degradation, bad communication & angst, drinking)

✣ Story CWs: BDSM dob/sub relationship; sex (oral, ptv, pta, etc.); genre typical drug use, alcohol, smoking

✣ Synopsis: A story of two lonely people find love for better or worse. Or, dom!Rindou is sweet on his girl. Or, on paper, you and Rindou have nothing in common. But sometimes chemistry defies logic, and with every conversation, you find yourself more bewitched until all you see, smell, or hear is Rindou.

✣ Word Count: ~8.5k

The black dot may have been nothing but a circle, a representation of the sun or an eye, except it is written, which makes it punctuation. As a symbol of punctuation, it may have been a period at the end of a sentence, except there are three, which makes it part of an ellipsis. As an ellipsis, it may have indicated a trailing off of a thought except it accompanies a blank space on his screen, an auto-generated signal from his phone, which means you are still typing, as you have been for the last five minutes with no message yet in response to his text.

It should not take this long to respond to an invitation to dinner.

With every minute that passes, his ire rises higher.

Rindou strains through another set of lat pulls, refusing to let you and your silent treatment slow him down. Opposite him, Benkei deadlifts a stunning 300 kg. When the bar hits the floor, the clang echoes off the mirror-lined walls.

There is a gym in the basement of his apartment complex, guaranteed to be empty in the early pre-dawn hours, which he prefers for the privacy it offers. Wakasa’s gym is never empty. Fighters practice boxing, MMA, and jujutsu with retired pros morning and night. Most of the customers sport tattoos from one syndicate or another, and Rindou often recognizes the guys on his own payroll by the free weights or sweating in the saunas. Rindou only started returning to Wakasa’s gym for the occasional practice bout or strength training session in the last few months. Wakasa’s been filling his ear with the idea of taking you and his girl on a double date, a vacation to the mountains when your semester wraps, and Rindou has been coming by to talk the details.

A text finally lights up his screen, and Rindou forces himself to ignore it for a solid minute while he finishes his set even as his eyes dart back against his will.

I can’t do dinner. Plans with Naoya. But I could do drinks.

Wakasa lopes forward, hands in his pockets, before Rindou can answer. It’s his turn to leave you with the ellipsis of anxiety and doom. He locks his phone and tosses face-down on a bench.

“Wanted to tell you we got the goods through Nagoya yesterday,” Wakasa says tonelessly. “Ushioda’s really come through. My guy says customs not only didn’t check, they agreed to decrease security personnel during offboarding. Ran is going to be a menace about being the one to make this happen, but he’s worked his magic on this.”

Rindou matches Wakasa’s subdued attitude beat for beat, but in his mind, he runs through a month’s worth of memos and emails to recall if he knew about this plan. “You sent a shipment of girls through the port? That’s fucking brazen.”

“Mochi wanted to test the limits early with something cheap before we put our expensive shit through there,” Wakasa said.

According to Takeomi, Ushioda begged on bended knee for clemency for his son. It was hard to say whether love or shame drove the father, but the outcome was the same. Acme Corp would smuggle Bonten contraband through the Port of Nagoya, so long as they streamlined into their regular shipping schedule to avoid setting off any alarm bells.

This was the second shipment received through the port after moving a little marijuana through a few weeks earlier. Rindou tries to keep his expectations in check as operations continue smoothly, but his hopes rise against his better judgment.

“Mochi says he wants to do a few more runs, but that you should start thinking through where you could source the heroine,” Wakasa relays.

They could source through the triads as the Chinese and Russian gangs already have inroads with the producers, but they would each take their cut and ruin Bonten’s margins. The drug would be new on the market. Rindou doesn’t want to price high outright. Start cheap and once the clientele can’t live without their fix, then drive the prices up. They could run a deficit to start, but that would mean Koko up his ass. Cutting the triads out completely isn’t an option either as they would need to ship out of China, but if they could build their own supplier network, they could negotiate a better rate.

“It’s gonna be too obvious if we have guys coming in and out of Afghanistan all the time. They don’t even run direct flights out of Seoul. We’d get picked instantly. I’m thinking we could get away with sending someone through to Turkey though. With a little palm greasing, they can cross into Iran without getting their passport stamped. The IRGC run the heroine trade through Afghanistan, so we could develop our own connections from there,” Rindou says.

Wakasa nods along at what he already figured. “Who you gonna send?”

“Not me if that’s what you’re thinking. I hate plane rides,” Rindou says.

“Of course, not you. We need you. I was thinking Hanma.”

Rindou groans. “I fucking hate that guy.”

“We all fucking hate that guy. But that’s why he’s good at this shit. He’s done great work in Hong Kong. Send him over there. He knows how to make the coldest man sweat,” Wakasa suggests.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it.”

He finishes another set of lat pulls, while Wakasa and Benkei chat away about the insipid rise of Peloton. Endorphins rush to his brain, and he feels magnanimous enough to finally shoot you a reply.

See you at 5.

If he has anything to say about it, Naoya will be eating dinner alone tonight.

--

Two people could not be dressed more oppositely. Fresh from his post-workout shower, Rindou wears nothing but a pair of sweats. Droplets of water scatter across his bare shoulder blade as his long, wet hair drips freely. Strong chest and arms still pumped from muscle training great you at the door. You, meanwhile, dressed for an Arctic exploration in a floor-length parka, bulging in all the wrong places, a fluffy scarf wound three-times round your neck, and an equally fluffy, fur-lined hood. A mask completes the look, so the only skin he can see is a sliver of your forehead and your narrowed eyes.

“Just looking at you makes me feel cold,” you scowl.

“Just looking at you is making me cold.”

You barge right past him into his apartment. The heater works overtime to keep the entire complex a toasty 23 degrees. Past the entryway, where you slip out of your boots, the dining room table is lined with boxes of Chinese takeout; Unsure what you’d want to eat, Rindou opted to order a smorgasbord of options.

Beneath the unflattering coat, you wear a black dress. The long sleeves and tasteful length contrast a daring vee that dips down to show off the swell of your lovely, little breasts. You’re packaged like a delicious gift for the unwrapping, and Rindou can’t resist planting a soft kiss to the back of your neck as you hang your coat. He expects the battle tonight will be a long and painful one, but still you dressed up for him.

“Good to see it’s you under there. For a second, I thought it might be an assassin,” Rindou jokes.

“Easy for you to laugh all warm in here! It’s freezing outside. They’re calling for snow tonight into tomorrow, which sucks. I can’t miss class at this point in the semester,” you complain.

“Well, I’ve got everything you need to warm up,” Rindou says. He gestures at the table laden with food, and then, more critically, brandishes the bottle of wine bought just for tonight. “And if the weather’s too bad tomorrow, I’m sure they’ll cancel. You can just hang out here all day.”

“My professors are all sadists. I wouldn’t put it past them to host class as they get double-bypass surgery. They’d have the surgeon right there in the lecture hall,” you grumble.

Rindou half listens as you launch into a prolonged rant about your upcoming finals. His attention is understandably split as he searches your lively expressions for the ugly shadow of jealousy. Behind every word, he hunts for double meanings.

The look of pure betrayal on your face when he ran into you yesterday in Chiba will not soon leave his mind. It colored his scenes yesterday with Mayuri, turning him mean and unmerciful as he bound and belted her ass red. She deserved his full attention after putting her trust in him, but Rindou twice almost walked away to call you. Had you answered, he might have berated you for daring to look at him like that, like you’d caught him fucking your mother or murdering the family pet. Like he’d done something unforgivable to you.

Now, as you gripe about exams, every bit the picture of the beleaguered uni student, your words ring false. Like you are filling time and space to put distance between the you of yesterday, so judgey and offended, and the you of today. You tell him how exams are two months out, and like a good student, you are already studying in earnest in the pits of what you dub “flashcard hell” as Kii has taken to posting flashcards over every expanse of wall in her apartment, springing prep questions on unconsenting listeners, and crying periodically about how she should have spent fewer hours sleeping and more time reading the supplementary materials. Rindou hums in sympathy in all the right places, and he almost, almost begins to relax into the conversation. Like an idiot.

“Are you feeling the dumplings or the pork?” Rindou asks, plating up a hearty helping of food for himself.

“Neither. I can’t eat, remember?” you say.

“Oh, come on. Stay the night. It’s too cold to be going out.”

“True, but I promised Naoto. We’re going to this really fancy curry restaurant, and he said he’d pay, so I’m planning to go all out and get dessert,” you say.

Noticing his wine glass is running low, Rindou drains the last dregs and pours himself a healthy portion. This will be easier drunk. He debates pouring you more as well, wondering if a little tipsiness would make you spunkier or mellow the worst of your impulses. Because he senses the fit approaching, the moment you break your pretense that everything is fine and well and force a confrontation.

“You know, I don’t like playing games,” he says.

 “I don’t like playing games either.”

“Then, don’t.”

Rindou says it shortly, definitively. The barest hint of command reinforces his voice, and he watches the way you receive the order, squirming in that delightfully submissive way of yours before you reject your inclination to obedience. You set your jaw.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

Rindou sighs. He expected you would be difficult but not passive aggressive. Not like this.

“You have dinner plans with Naoto? Seriously?”

“Yes?”

“Bullshit,” Rindou snaps. “I expected you to be immature about what happened yesterday, but this? You’re better than this. Forget your conveniently timed dinner plans, and let’s act like adults. Then, we can have a nice night.”

“It’s a work event. Naoto was nervous about going alone, so he asked me to come with him. This was planned weeks ago. I just forgot until he reminded me,” you insist, standing up from your chair, like the added height will strengthen your lie.

“Convenient,” Rindou sneers.

In the six months you’ve been together, you have never had a genuine fight or even argument. Seeing your smiling face typically puts Rindou in too good a mood, curbs the worst of his temper, so he is slow to pick fights. You, meanwhile, listen so well, adapting your behavior without him having to utter a word. Bickering typically becomes flirtatious banter in a matter of minutes, the kind that ends with your panties in his pocket.

So, Rindou doesn’t know what to expect from you in a real fight. He half expected you to fold at the slightest correction. You are still young, so he doesn’t write off the possibility of some kind of petty manipulation either, the silent treatment maybe, or more probably breaking into a mess of tears, the kind that bring so many men to a panic; Unfortunately for you, Rindou doesn’t capitulate to a woman’s cries or begging, going cold at any miserable attempt to manipulate his emotions.

Faced with you now, the tendons in your neck pulse as you square of against him without any sign of crumbling. You worry your lower lip between your teeth until it is red and swollen. It is the only sign of anxiety. Otherwise, you stand strong.

“If you feel like I’m somehow attacking you, it must be a guilty conscience. Because I haven’t said or done anything to you.”

“What do I have to feel guilty about?” Rindou demands coldly.

“You’d have to tell me. Because I thought about it all day and night –”

“See, I knew you were wound up about yesterday –”

“I thought about it all day and night,” you raise your voice to drown him out. “And, yes, it was weird to see you with someone else. Yes, it hurt. It was so unexpected. But, if you think I’m trying to punish you over it, you’re out of line because my eyes are wide open. You’re not my boyfriend –”

“No, I’m not. Which is why you shouldn’t –”

“I know, I know. How can I be hurt or angry when you’re not my boyfriend? You didn’t cheat on me or break any promises. I have nothing to be upset about.”

“Right.”

Confused and more than a little wary, Rindou sits back down at the table. He has held conversations like this a few times in his life. Most subs understand the importance of negotiation implicitly and take him for what he is. There have been a handful of in the past, however, usually inexperienced women like you, who struggled to work through the limitations of their relationship with him, crashing futilely against the boundaries of what he offered.

Because he doesn’t do relationships. Blame it on the dangers of his work, the secrecy inherent in the lifestyle, or some intrinsic flaw in his makeup. Regardless, he never plans to tie himself down to one woman. All that road offers is the erosion of his freedom.

“Since you wanted to talk about it so much though, bringing it up and all, I would like to ask about what I should expect,” you continue. “Because I didn’t realize you were seeing other people, and that raises questions. Like, are you practicing safe sex with these women? Have you been getting tested for STDs? Should we be using condoms? And, are you looking for more long-term subs? How would you even fit in another sub? Would we have to see each other less, so you could make time for a new one? What should I expect going forward?”

Each question is too reasonable to deny, so Rindou answers plainly, “You’re the only person I see regularly, so I use condoms with everyone else and get tested on the first of every month. If you want to use condoms together, that is entirely your decision. I’ll accept whatever you decide. I’m not looking to train anyone else right now. If I found someone that suited my tastes, I might consider it though, and yeah, that would mean adjusting my schedule around because I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you would not be open to training together.”

“No!”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Rindou says.

“How many women have you been with since we got together?” you demand.

There is no good answer, and Rindou groans, “Seriously? Don’t start overreacting now.”

“I’m cool! I’m being so cool. Just answer the question,” you smile, but it is a mockery of your normal, gleaming smiles. Teeth clenched tight together, it is more like an animal baring its fangs.

“No! I don’t owe you a fucking itemized list of every woman I’ve fucked. Just like I don’t run around town telling them about you. I haven’t cheated on you. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I just wanna know how and when you’re finding time to meet other people.”

Rindou rolls his eyes. “Because that’s rational. You don’t actually want to know the answer to that.”

“I just don’t know where you’re possibly finding the time to meet all these women –”

“Again, you’re exaggerating. Not all these women. Some, like Mayuri, I knew before you. Some I meet through work. Straightforward stuff.”

“Mayuri is the woman from yesterday?”

“I think we’re done with this conversation now,” Rindou says tightly.

A shininess blurs the color of your eyes then, and Rindou sighs. He wants to wrap you up in his arms and praise you for being such a strong, beautiful girl because despite all your tough words, this isn’t easy for you. If he could be a better man for you, he would consider it, but there is only so much he can offer, and the burden of accepting that is on you.

“Thank you for being honest with me. I really do need to head out and meet Naoto, but I’ll think about the condom thing,” you murmur.

“Baby, don’t leave like this,” Rindou tries. There is no more fight in your stance and now that the threat of conflict is ended, he finds the energy draining from his whole body.

“I’m fine! We’re fine. Seriously, Rindou. I’m not going to overreact or stamp my foot at you like that might change something. My eyes are wide open like I told you. I understand where you’re coming from completely. We can hang out soon,” you say.

Rindou doesn’t like the idea of you leaving when your foundations are so shaken, wants to stuff you full of gone-cold Chinese food and cuddle on the couch until you fall asleep on his shoulder. Even if neither of you yelled or descended into insults, he feels like he fought a war, and the only way to recover is in your arms.

He follows you to the entryway.

You redon your winter gear in a hurry. The puffy coat is plush and cozy as he pulls you close and kisses you long and slow. You return the kiss with wind-chapped lips not fighting him at all. The heat that always explodes between you blazes, and he cups and caresses you through the barrier of the coat.

He wants you to stay.

You break the kiss after only a minute and smile.

“I’ll call you, ok?”

And then, you are gone.

--

When Rindou sleeps, he dreams of shopping malls built like mazes, window shopping displays of the finest goods, and he understands without knowing that to obtain even one miraculous product from these stores would spell his salvation; But whenever he tries to enter one of the stores, the maze shifts, redirects him until he is walking forwards again, searching. Still searching. During the slippery seconds between sleep and waking, that liminal space where dreams and life converge, he stews in resentment for what he can’t possess. That resentment often follows him into the day, though he tries not to dwell on it. The recurring dream started sometime in his early twenties. He remembers that dream joining him in sleep on at least a monthly basis, but for all he knows, he dreams it every night only to forget with the rising of the sun.

The weeks that follow the lingerie incident remind him of that dream only there is no supernatural force reworking the architecture of time and space to prevent him from entering the store. It feels like he’s piloting a plane headed straight for a cliff. There is still time to push the emergency button and eject to safety if he is only willing to abandon the plane to its solitary, fiery fate. But, he is a pilot, and the plane is all he’s ever known, and the longer he goes without pushing the button, the slighter his chances of escaping unscathed.

Because you are not fine.

The three weeks that follow pass at a crawl. Time reshapes itself into molasses around the giant you-sized absence in his days. It is easy, at first, to deny the obvious as you offer such convincing excuses to blow him off. After all, your friends do often lean on you for emotional support, and finals are drawing close, and your mother does deserve a break. So what if you leave his texts on read for hours at a time?

On the fourth day, he calls you in the free period he knows falls between your Wednesday lectures. When you answer, Rindou mistakes your sing-song hello for the voicemail you have relegated him to recently. You apologize for not having time to talk, squeezing more words into a breath than humanly plausible as you explain your packed study schedule. You promise to see him soon before you hang up.

You sounded fine on the phone. The same voice, light and airy like spring personified, that Rindou knows so well.

But you are not fine.

The ice wall between you thaws a little in the second week when Rindou reminds you that he bought tickets to the Inaba/Salas tour. Again, you surprise him by joining as planned at the stadium. Throughout the concert, you smile and cheer along, and the open delight on your face as you groove to the music invites him to join in the fun. At the end of the night, he drives you home to where you swear your mom is waiting. He kisses you breathless in the front seat of his car. You sigh hot and sticky into his mouth, notched into the crook of his shoulder like you have carved a space for yourself there, and whisper “Sir” with more fervor than a prayer. Everything seems fine.

But you are not fine.

Only a few days later, you agree to a date. The familiarity as he texts you details and soaks up your liberal usage of emojis relaxes him into thinking all is well. He takes you ice skating at Tokyo Midtown Gardens. With your little gloved hand in his, you half carry each other around the rink, equally graceless without the surety of solid ground. Rindou laughs more than he has for two weeks. You both fall again and again, Rindou toppling each time so as to shield your body from the worst of it. As you sprawl on top of him, padded from head to toe in winter wear, you promise to kiss his purple bruises better and call him your hero. Back at his apartment, you do just that, licking and kissing every part of his body, losing track of time. The trains stop running, so you sleep where you belong in the cradle of his arms. He wakes up at 6AM to the sound of you shuffling, halfway out the door citing an early start to the day. You would have left without a goodbye, but at his groggy inquiry, you tell him you are fine.

But you are not fine.

Rindou wants to confront you about the change. He hates playing stupid games more than accusations or tears and would rather have it out at this point. But, whenever you visit, he never broaches the subject. Because you are so singularly you! And fuck it. He misses you. The contrast between seeing you fives time a week and this drought is stark. Now, when you leave, you don’t send him dumb memes or answer his calls to talk about your day. You don’t rush to make plans to see him again either, and Rindou knows he can’t accept your lame excuses anymore. Something is fundamentally broken.

For the first time in maybe ever, Rindou throws himself into his work. The timing is convenient with recent developments, so he offers to take the meetings outside the perimeter of Tokyo when before he might have dragged his feet. He personally briefs Takeomi every day. When Kakucho mentions a security threat in passing, Rindou volunteers to help even though it falls well outside his purview. Anything to keep the body active.

You had come to fill up the hours of his day, to be the dessert he could look forward to after a meal of veggies. Rindou can’t comprehend how he used to fill the interminable hours between six PM and sleep without your assistance.

So, he works, and he tries not to think about anything much at all.

The plane soars onward without any assistance on his part. The details of the exposed cliff face, jagged and unforgiving, grow clearer by the hour. There will be no escape. When he crashes, Rindou knows he is going to explode.

--

Ran once said all of Bonten has PTSD in one form or another. Overexposure to high stress, life-or-death situations puts too much stress on the adrenal system, so now half the executives drop to their stomachs when a car misfires, stand with their backs flat to the nearest wall in every new room, avoid crowds like some people avoid traffic tickets. Rindou considers himself free of this affliction, but on the road, hands flexing on the steering wheel and eyes split between mirrors like a car might strike out into his lane at any moment, he is every bit as activated.

The hour is late, creeping towards midnight when Rindou pulls onto the expressway. There are predictably few passenger cars sharing the road. Semitrucks kick up a mist of rain that obscures his windshield.

To fill the sleepless hours, Rindou is developing all kinds of new habits. Driving, brain preciously blank to all but the threat of traffic, is one of them. So is going to the office. Just today, he went to the Ueno office of all places rather than watch the hours of the day tick by in his apartment. There is no email unanswered, directive unissued, or memo unread to keep his brain occupied. He wishes there was because his apartment holds as little allure now as it did this this morning.

A notification lights up the display. It’s a reminder that the BDSM club in Roppongi – the one where you first met – is open for play tonight. Rindou palms his cock, and it feels like an animal, a dead one, in his pants. Not even a stir. His mood is too black and distracted to responsibly dom anyone, so he dismisses the notification.

Screeching the tires, Rindou almost misses his exit. He brakes hard down the ramp until he shoots out on a quiet street. At the drab buildings, he does a double take, recognizing the north entrance to Nakano Station.

He has driven straight past his real exit and an extra twenty minutes without noticing to arrive in your neighborhood.

Rindou feels drunk despite not taking a sip of alcohol all day. He pulls into a gas station and refills the tank. While it pumps, he pops his contacts out of sore eyes. Everything blurs like a photograph in soft focus. He closes his eyes against a headache and breathes deep for 120 torturous breaths. Back in the car, he unearths his glasses from the glove compartment. They’re the same style, though a stronger prescription, that he wore as a teen. Catching his reflection in the rearview, Rindou sees the boy he once was. Just as lost, letting things happen around him without a thought, only leaping to action when stronger powers (namely Ran) prompted). Someone who watches as life happens.

Nothing is in his control.

The BDSM club is five minutes closer to Nakano than his apartment, a negligible difference, but after the driving mix-up he changes course. Nostalgia takes the wheel to lead to where you first met, where he has not visited since.

The ticket takers at the theater don’t recognize him, hesitating until he points at the tattoo on his throat. He looks unkempt: hair ratty and unbrushed, jacket slung over his shoulder and button-up crumpled at the ends, and his glasses highlight the eyes of a man who has barely slept in days. It is no surprise that subs don’t flock to him when he enters. He doesn’t look like the all-powerful dom tonight. Best he sits back and watches.

Rindou pays for a full bottle of bourbon, served neat and hard on the taste buds. The club is busy as it’s Saturday, and couples and groups clog the four stages. There are no tables left close enough for a view of the action, so Rindou stands in the corner, taking heavy swigs straight from the bottle until his stomach cramps.

There is little variety on stage. Three doms whip, cane, and flog their subs. All older man with younger women. They are impersonal, showing perfunctory delight at the infliction of pain. These are the kinds of scenes that bore him when done without finesse.

On the fourth stage, he recognizes Lady X, a domme he knows from many shared nights spent just like this, bringing women to their knees. Lost in his memories is Lady X’s real name. Yuzu something…Yuzuriha? Yuzuyu? In the clubs, she always goes by her alias or is called simply Lady, but Rindou remembers her vaguely as the sister of the tenth gen leader of the Black Dragons.

Lady is the antithesis of Rindou as a dom.

If Rindou finds control in manipulating a pliant body and acceptance in a sub’s embrace of his touch, whether it offers pain or pleasure, Lady finds release in giving her subs what they want. Where Rindou hoards women’s orgasms like precious jewels, flaunting his ownership of them only to hide them away again, Lady distributes them like cheap birdseed, doling out orgasm after orgasm to her thankful subs. Eventually said thanks turns to pleading, as one orgasm becomes four and the pleasure twists to something monumental. Lady then ups the vibrator or nips the woman’s clit with blunt teeth because, as she told Rindou once over a drink at this very bar, her goal in every scene is to create a world where her subs’ worst problem is the existence of too much pleasure, not its absence, nor its inverse, pain.

Tonight, Lady commands the largest audience of patrons. No surprise there as she strikes quite the picture herself, tall and lovely in a pencil skirt as she brings three subs on stage to piteous tears. Rindou slides closer to her stage for a better look.

Suspended in a harness of ropes, the first sub weeps wretchedly. There is a hitachi wand held to her clit. The setting must be high because the buzz travels from the stage to his ears. The woman cries but does not beg for mercy. There is the sheen of the acolyte behind her eyes, like she might commit unspeakable acts if they only bring her back here to Lady’s ropes and generous toys.

A second sub at her side stands restrained but not suspended. Her arms are tied above her, so that she can do nothing while Lady strokes her cock. Lady’s little hand smears messily over the tip, which is an inflamed red. There is a puddle of cum on the floor from the woman’s past orgasms. Little drips of semen harden on her legs. Every touch must hurt, but Lady keeps playing with the tip, forcing her back to hardness whether she likes it or not.

The third sub is just an ass in the air. A perfect ass at that.

Bent over a wooden block and shackled at the ankle, so that her legs are to the audience, the sub’s pussy is spread wide around a vibrator taped to her clit. Her feet kick ineffectually against her restraints, little trembles jiggling her thighs.

Rindou enjoys watching Lady work, so self-assured, so competent at bringing her subs to the brink and past. His eyes stray again and again to the pretty ass in the air. A stir in his pants makes him question his decision to abstain tonight. It has been over a week of his own hand.

After fifteen minutes of more of the same, Lady releases the first two subs from their ropes and cuffs. They are felled heaps on the stage, panting in puddles of their own slick and cum. Lady rounds to the third sub, leaning toward that hidden face in private conversation. Then she stands, and sighs for the audience’s benefit.

“Here I am being so generous, telling this slut to cum as many times as she wants, and she hasn’t cum once! What to do?”

Lady answers her own question by crouching down in front of the sub’s spread pussy and burying her whole face in it. There is a lull in the music, and Rindou can hear just how lewdly Lady laves that pussy with her tongue. Her fingers stretch the sub’s hole at a brutal pace. The woman keens loudly and kicks her feet again. Everything from her little naked toes to canting hips look beautiful in the throws of overstimulation.

Of course, Rindou knows without knowing. A presentiment colors the scene. He leans forward with interest, compelled toward that wet cunt, not wanting to miss a moment of the action, but his stomach sickens too. He ignores the sensation, blames the bourbon warming its way down his belly.

Lady tuts as the sub continues to hang on the precipice without teetering over.

She turns to the audience and says, “Little slut is having a hard time coming without permission from her old dom. Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard? Why don’t you let her know she has permission to cum? Tell her to squirt all over my hand.”

Eager to join in more actively, the crowd of about thirty hoot and holler in encouragement, mixing in obscenities about the sub’s wet cunt and place beneath Lady’s toys. Rindou claps along.

Four fingers slam in and out of that sloppy hole, and the time between shakes and cries from the sub evaporates until she is blubbering at the stimulation. Lady yanks her up by the hair to gift her the added sting at her scalp, and it pushes the sub over the edge.

Correction: it pushes you over the edge.

Because Rindou knows that ass, and he knows those toes, and even at a distance with the lights too bright and a row of people in front of him, he knows that pretty pussy, too. That pretty pussy now clenches around Lady’s fingers in an orgasm far too long and powerful for your overstimulated body.

Rindou watches your face screw up in pain and tears, an expression just as familiar to him. It is an expression that should belong solely to him.

All three subs follow Lady dutifully off stage after your orgasm finally settles. She bundles you all in blankets, heaping compliments and affection down on you as is your due after such a trying scene. Rindou hovers within earshot as Lady pets your head and rubs a tear from your check. Twenty minutes elapse as you come out of subspace, during which time Rindou drains half the bottle of bourbon.

“I look like a racoon. I’m gonna head to the bathroom and fix my makeup,” you laugh, pointing at the streaks of mascara that paint your cheeks.

You replace the blanket with an overcoat to shield your nakedness then weave your way through the crowd. Compliments on your performance rain down from all sides. Rindou shadows your step. Not far from the bathroom, you drop your phone. When you turn to pick it up off the floor, Rindou is there, already scooping it off the ground.

“Rin – Rindou!” you yelp.

“Not trying to scare you,” Rindou says immediately, defensively, and he passes the phone back to you without even scanning the lock screen for a peek at your messages. “Just saw you and wanted to say hey.”

“Well, hey…um…”

“You might wanna fix your makeup. You’ve got…” Rindou gestures at the cakey residue you already know is there, and you curse.

“Yeah, sorry. I need to go to the bathroom and deal with this.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rindou says, opening the door for you.

“Rindou, you can’t come in here with me,” you whisper.

He almost tells you it’s his club and he can do whatever he wants, but Rindou wears his secrecy like a second skin and only smirks at your worries before following you into the women’s bathroom. It is a six-stall affair with a wall mirror above the sinks. He can hear a woman pee behind the door of one stall, but he ignores the stranger’s presence as you ignore his, turning to the mirrors.

“You did good up there. Looked like you had a lot of tension to work out, which isn’t surprising considering all the studying you’ve been doing. Didn’t you have a paper due this week?” Rindou prompts.

You rub dry fingertips against your cheeks. When that doesn’t work, you wad up three paper towels, wet from the sink, and scrub.

“Yeah, I had a paper on Bashō’s references to music and instrumentation in his poems, which was due on Thursday. It could have been a lot worse honestly. I like the subject, and I thought my first draft was good for once. Of course, I had a complete breakdown on Wednesday after dreaming that the paper was really supposed to be about Nishiyama Sōin and that I’d miscited every source in there, but um, I managed to calm myself down.”

“Good. I don’t know why you always have nightmares about your papers. You always get an A.”

“Not always,” you say darkly.

The woman in the occupied stall hurries out, casting a few curious glances Rindou’s way as she washes her hands. She doesn’t dry them, leaving little splatters of water on the counter. Then, they are truly alone.

“Are you planning to stick around now that you finished your scene? Can’t imagine you wanna do another after that? It looked intense.”

“You really watched that?” you ask.

“Most of it,” he confirms. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” you say without looking at him. You dry your hands while staring at your now streak-free reflection in the mirror.

“If you don’t wanna stay, I could take you home. Or, if you’re hungry, I know a 24/7 breakfast place not far from here. You never eat enough after a scene,” Rindou says.

“Um, I’m good…Have you been coming here often?”

“No, it’s my first time in forever. You?” he asks in a tone that just misses casual.

“It’s my second time in the last two weeks. I’m kind of trying out stuff right now,” you say.

“Trying out stuff…” he tests the words.

“Are you okay? You look a little tense.”

Normally, Rindou chooses his words with precision, but he finds himself unable to process his surroundings. He exists somewhere outside his body, outside his brain, outside this room entirely. He peers down on the scene almost like a security camera, removed and distant. No, rather more like footage from a security camera, viewed days after the fact in a little room by someone who neither knows nor understands the context of the scene. Trying to think through the likely consequences of his words or choosing an alternative phrase, he finds his thoughts vaporous and ungraspable. So, he simply speaks.

“I didn’t like it.”

“Like what? Watching me with someone else?” you say quickly.

He grunts because that’s easier than searching for any kind of answer.

“You said we could fuck other people.”

“I know. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Rindou agrees. It is the correct and automatic response, but he can’t resist tacking on the truth at the end. “I didn’t like watching.”

“Well, that’s flattering at least,” you mutter.

In a different reality, one where he sent you up there with a pat on the ass, he might have liked watching Lady work your cunt up to a waterfall before returning you to him, still hovering on the precipice, edged and needy. He might have liked teasing you all night with the possibility of an orgasm. But he did not like watching you cum for someone else. Not without his permission. Even with a filmy gauze slowing down his brain from the half bottle of bourbon, he knows that much.

“We’re not okay, are we?” Rindou asks.

“No, Rindou. We are not okay.”

“Well, can we talk about it?”

“I don’t know. Can we talk about it without you making me feel like a complete idiot?” you snap.

A woman pushes open the door to the bathroom, but upon hearing the direction of your conversation, she turns right around, leaving you to a privacy tinged by history. The door creaks back into place with a choked slam.

“Like a…? You’re not an idiot?” Rindou insists.

“I know I’m not an idiot! I have spent the last few weeks going back and forth between feeling so sad and then so goddamn angry with you! Because I know that I could not have been more chill about things if I had a lobotomy to remove my frontal cortex first! I was so cool about everything, so understanding, so kind, and you treated me like, like some fucking bother you had to get out of the way!”

The first feeling to reemerge from the confused pit you dumped him in is embarrassment at himself as he is admittedly slow on the uptake, stuttering out, “Wait…this isn’t about…? This is about our conversation at my apartment?”

“Yes!” you hiss, hands flapping emphatically and voice echoing off the tile. The overcoat swallows you whole, a sea of black fabric trailing the floor, but somehow you stand tall within it. “Yes! I came that night so prepared to listen to your side of things and be reasonable and empathetic and all the rest, and you treated me like I was a hysterical child that you had to manage. Far be it from me to criticize the great Rindou! Not that I even did criticize you before you were jumping down my throat. I am not unreasonable. I am not hysterical. And I am not a child. I did not appreciate being treated like I was.”

Rindou remembers back to the hours before you arrived at his apartment that day. How he’d been so sure you would accuse him of cheating or play mind games to negate your own jealousy. The whole time you were there, he maintained that sureness even when you acted contrary to those expectations.

It, he admits, hadn’t been fair.

Worse, it may have been patronizing.

He groans, not at you but at the memory, and rubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. I see that. I didn’t want you to blow things out of proportion, so I tried to shut you down before you could. But I guess I acted like a prick.”

“A prick might be understating it. I came to you to have a conversation in good faith, and you made me feel so…small. Insignificant. Like, I’m just this easy thing to you. Like you could use and discard me, so I better shut my mouth before you throw me away.”

Rindou opens his mouth to give a rebuttal-like reassurance that you are wrong about your supposed disposability to him, but you plow forward, pointed finger punctuating every word, which is a welcome distraction from the look of raw pain on your face. It is like the sun. Too painful to look at directly.

“I know what that feels like, Rindou, because I’ve been treated that way before. I’m young and people call me sweet, and that means people think I’m stupid or superficial, but I’m not. I’m capable of dealing with the hard things and having the hard conversations, and I do not deserve to be treated like I’m too naïve to know how things work.”

There is a layer of grime on his tongue. He focuses on how foreign it feels in his mouth rather than the thumping organ in his ribcage. The way his heart races and the room feels too small is not dissimilar to the sensations he feels when someone fires a gun, when his life is momentarily suspended. A kind of physical panic that quickly settles into alertness.

He breathes deep, calming. Rindou smells the antibacterial soap and weak air freshener blowing from the vents. The colors of the room appear saturated, more contrast and more details accessible to the eye. Most importantly, he sees you clearly. The veins of your throat strain as if bursting with tension your body can’t contain. There are new smudges at the edges as tiny tears wet your eyeline. There is every emotion in those eyes from disgust to anger to sadness, but most of all, there is a question lingering there as you silently beg him to answer: where can we go from here?

“I have never thought of you as some easy thing. I fucked up. I don’t know what was going on in my head that day, but you’re right. I wasn’t seeing you. I should have shut my fucking mouth and listened. I’m sorry.”

Relief warms your eyes.

“I accept your apology,” you say.

“Really?” Rindou asks. After weeks of brewing resentment and your impassioned speech, he didn’t expect a speedy turnaround no matter how many pretty speeches he made himself.

“Yeah, I don’t like being angry. It takes a lot of energy,” you half laugh.

The abrupt about face from anger to laughter throws into stark relief that the is very drunk and very tired.  Beneath that, Rindou recognizes a more abstract emotion, too: happiness.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. I didn’t realize what you were upset about,” Rindou says, and then he adds helpfully. “Because I’m stupid. Thanks for forgiving me.”

“Yeah, you are stupid, but I figure you deserve a little grace because this was the first time in six months that you disrespected me. So long as you never treat me that way again. Seriously. My mother taught me to never put up with that from anyone,” you say.

“On my honor,” Rindou vows. “So, can I buy you something to eat now?”

The happiness explodes out like a shaken soda bottle. One second, he’s filled to the brim with it, and the next it’s gone, bubbling to nothing on the tile because you don’t say yes. Instead, you stare grimly at the wall, all traces of reconciliation gone as you clutch the sleeves of your overcoat tight.

He wonders if his apology is not enough, if he might prove his sincerity to you in some other way. If you were Mikey, he would cut off his pinky. He would gladly gift you the ring, index, and middle fingers of his left hand, too, if you demanded them. But fingers out of the question, he has nothing to give you to prove himself, and you don’t say yes.

“Rindou…I do accept your apology for insulting me, but that’s not all…The truth is, I tried to be cool about it, but I’ve had weeks to think, and…I’m not okay with things going back to how they were if you are dating or hell, sleeping with other people. I’m jealous and hurt. And I can’t accept it,” you say.

“It’s normal to be jealous,” Rindou tries, tone bracing and supportive. “I got jealous today, but I worked through it. I’ve been a dom since I was nineteen, and I’ve never been tied down to one person before. It’s not the way I know how to do things. That’s why I didn’t make any promises when we got together. I didn’t cheat on –”

“Please don’t start that again! I know! I know you technically didn’t do anything wrong. And I know that I can’t make you stop seeing other people. It’s your relationship, too, and you can have your boundaries, but…”

“But?”

“But if I can’t ask you to stop seeing other people, then you can’t ask me to keep loving you.”

You clap a hand to your mouth as if shocked by the confession, or like you might herd the words back into your mouth where they will remain unspoken. But it is too late. He can count on one hand the number of times anyone has told him they loved him, and he will not forget this.

“Baby…” Rindou tries to reach for you, but you scramble away, and now tears fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the problem, ya know? It hasn’t just been sex or hanging out for me. What we were doing, for me at least, was love, and it hurts too much to love someone who…I tried to take a step back, just have fun with you every once in a while, but there’s no medicine for falling in love, and every time I saw your stupid face, my heart started doing backflips. It doesn’t listen to me when I tell it we shouldn’t love you anymore. And that’s why…”

Your face blurs. It takes Rindou several confused seconds to realize his eyes are wet and blink the moisture away. When you reappear, you have steeled your nerves for the finishing blow.

“That’s why I don’t want to see you anymore. I need space and time to get over you, so um, please just stop calling and texting and all the rest. Just stop.”

Your face blurs again, and this time Rindou knows it’s because his eyes are watering. He blames his stupid glasses. He needs a stronger prescription.

There is no such excuse for your tears that drip past your chin to land on your collar. You wipe fruitlessly at the leakage, too slow to stimmy their fall.

If you say anything after that, Rindou doesn’t hear you over the ringing in his ears. Three women enter the bathroom arm-in-arm and immediately jabber at him about how he isn’t welcome, like three harpies sent to drive him away. Rindou doesn’t fight them as they push him out the door with their words.

Outside in the club, in the dark and music, far from the bright quiet of the bathroom, Rindou feels like he’s stepped onto the surface of Mars. Like he’s planets away from where you are, and he might as well be.

He doesn’t know how to find his way back to you because he stands now amid the wreckage, engine on fire, wings cracked. The plane has finally crashed.

A/N: entering my villain era

"'I was always watching you.' This could have been a breathless declaration of love or a final farewell." - Yōko Ogawa, The Diving Pool: Three Novellas

[libertyreads]

April TBR 2024--

This next month is set to be full of rereads, hockey romances, and new to me books. It is also the month I'm starting a certification program so it will probably be a bit of a struggle to get through this month's TBR. I don't even remember the last time I've thought that about a month's TBR. I really hope I have as much fun with this TBR as I'm expecting to. I've really been in the mood for these rereads and these hockey romance so I'm excited to finally get to it.

Silver in the Bone by Alexandra Bracken-- This is just one of a few rereads this month. Book two in the series comes out next month. I originally read this one as an ARC so I definitely need a refresher first. Tamsin Lark is a mortal with no magical talent who was never meant to break into ancient crypts or compete with sorceresses and Cunning folk for the treasures inside. But treasure hunting is the only way she could keep herself and her brother Cabell alive following her thieving foster father's disappearance. Ten years later she's looking for a ring that is supposed to save her brother from a curse. It's based in Arthurian legend.

Teen Titans: Beast Boy by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo-- Another reread before a new book in the series. I remember enjoying this one slightly less than Raven's book, but I still enjoyed meeting a new character and getting their origin story. I also felt like it addressed an issue that isn't brought up a lot: male body image issues. We see it addressed a lot in fiction for girls, but there are boys who also go through this growing up. Plus it's beast boy and lots of green animals.

The Score by Elle Kennedy-- A hockey romance! I've been so in the mood for hockey romances this year. I don't know if it's because I found a few new to me authors and bought some kindle books for Christmas or what. In this one we follow Allie Hayes who is in crisis mode. Graduation is looming and she's dealing with a broken heart thanks to the end to her longtime relationship. Wild rebound sex is definitely not the solution to her problems, but gorgeous hockey star Dean Di Laurentis is impossible to resist. Just one though because even if her future is uncertain it sure as heck doesn't include Dean. It seems like he's going to pursue her after she puts him in the friend zone following their one night stand. I love it when the guy falls first or the guy is pursuing the girl so I'm looking forward to this one.

Stars and Smoke by Marie Lu-- The last of the rereads for this month. I'm so excited for the next book too. In this one we follow an international pop sensation named Winter Young who is brought into the world of spies when a major crime boss gifts his daughter a private concert with Winter for her birthday. Sydney Cossette is a member of the elite covert ops group who is forced to work alongside Winter to infiltrate the crime organization's inner circle. This was such a fun and quick read for me last year and I can't wait to go back into this world of glitz, glam, and spies.

Bad Men by Julie Mae Cohen (NetGalley)-- This one just sounded so good when I saw it on NetGalley. It's unhinged women at its finest. Saffy Huntley-Oliver is an intelligent and glamorous socialite; she also happens to be a proficient serial killer. Over the course of fifteen years, she's dispatched bad men--rapist, murderers, domestic abusers. But leading a double life has left her lonely. Dating's rough when your boyfriend might turn out to be your next victim. Saffy thinks she's finally found a truly good man in Jonathan Desrosiers, a true crime podcaster. This is a feminist thriller that asks if even a serial killer can have a happily ever after. My hopes for this one? Rich people drama and some mad women.

The Hemlock Queen by Hannah F. Whitten (New Release)-- The second book in the series is finally coming out. This series starts with Lore, who has a dark power and a hidden past, as we follow her into the intrigue of the Sainted King's royal court. The king and his priest manipulate Lore and have her spy on the prince in order to determine just who is killing the villages at the edge of the kingdom. We follow on from the events of the first book in this new one.

My Lucky #13 by Piper Rayne (Kindle)-- A hockey player who is going through a scoring draught is worried he's going to get traded before the deadline if he doesn't turn it around. Following a New Year's Eve with a woman, he has a waterfall of goals and knows he has to see her again. She wants nothing to do with him and he feels his has to change her mind. A hero falls first sounding story that I'm so looking forward to. I will say that there's a very obvious hockey error in the synopsis of this one and we all know I'm a little picky about hockey details. But I'll try to keep an open mind on this one.

Just Do This One Thing For Me by Laura Zimmerman (Library)-- I'm going to pull the synopsis straight from GoodReads since it's a Mystery/Thriller and those are hard to explain at the best of times: "'Just do this one thing for me.' Drew's mother says it more often than good morning. Heidi Hill has been juggling shady side hustles for all of Drew's seventeen years, and Drew knows that 'one thing' really means all the necessary things her mother thinks are boring, including taking care of her fifteen-year-old sister and eight-year-old brother. In fact, Drew is the closest thing to a responsible adult they've ever known. When their mother disappears on the way to a New Year's Eve concert in Mexico and her schemes start unraveling, Drew is faced with a choice: Follow the rules, do the responsible thing, and walk away--alone--from her mother's mess. Or hope the weather stays cold, keep the cons going, and just maybe hold her family together."

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, September 18-Thursday, September 19

Master: You're dead! Buffy: I may be dead, but I'm still pretty. Which is more than I can say for you.

~~Prophecy Girl~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Nothing's The Same (Buffy, PG) by badly_knitted

bufy a girl (Buffy/Spike, M) by lottiecrabie

A Tale of Two Slayers (Buffy/Kendra, E) by Ann_Douglas

Convincing (Buffy/Giles, T) by simple_nothings

[Chaptered Fiction]

Erotic Entertainment, Chapter 4 (Multi, E) by TheInfiniteDoctor

Cat Scratch Fever, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Cordelia/Oz, E) by KNZ1

My (love) Kill, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, G) by scared_worm

Love Lives Here, Chapter 100 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

Forty-eight days in LA, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Blissymbolics

Mysterious Destinies, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by EnchantedWillow

Lost in Desolation, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

A Nice Surprise, Chapter 1 (Crossover with Riptide, FR15) by calikocat

Meanwhile, back on the farm..., Chapter 6 (Multiple crossings, FR13) by hysteriumredux

Seeing Clearly, Chapter 200 (Multiple crossings, FR13) by JoeB

Perception, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, G) by flootzavut

Champion of War, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Desicat

To All We Guard, Chapter 25 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by simmony

Waiting for You, Chapter 21 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by honeygirl1885

A Sword in the Man, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Desicat

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork:The Slayer's pet by JSBirsa

Manip:moodboard: buffy summers by courtillyy

Manip:Collage #172 by thedecadentraven

Gifset:Buffy Meme: [1/8 Episodes] 6x07 Once More With Feeling by lovebvffys

Gifset:7x15 | “Get It Done” by clarkgriffon

Gifset:6x18 "Entropy" by peeta-mellark

Gifset:Timestamp Roulette 3x03 | Faith, Hope, & Trick by clarkgriffon

Gifset:3.04 | Beauty and the Beasts by bangelgifs

Gifset:Mercedes McNab as HARMONY KENDALL 🦄 by whatisyourchildhoodtrauma

Video: Buffy Best Comebacks // Buffy The Vampire Slayer Funniest Moments by Hollistic Witch

Video: Buffy and Faith - Empty by juliaroxs241

[Reviews & Recaps]

Big Bad Powerful She-Witches | Buffy the Vampire Slayer 7x9 "Never Leave Me" | Normies Reaction! by The Normies

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 4x11 & 4x12 REACTION | "Doomed" & "A New Man" by The Horror Bandwagon

Buffy the Vampire Slayer REACTION | Season 7, Episode 8: Sleeper by JayPeaKay

*BETTER THAN MCDONALD'S?!* Buffy the Vampire Slayer S6 Ep 12 "Double Meat Palace" Reaction FIRST by Nick Reacts

First Date: Buffy 7x14 Reaction by Dakara

[Fandom Discussions]

[Something Blue with zero context] by mybloodyvampire

[Headcanon- Dru has a lot of things] by voices-not-echoes

Question relating to Season 7 by multiple authors

I just watched s6e19 for the first time… by multiple authors

I do like this moment of sincerity by multiple authors

Poll - Would you rather scenario regarding Giles in season 7 by multiple authors

The man in the middle by multiple authors

How has your perspective on the show changed as you get older? by multiple authors

What's on your Drusilla/Spike playlist? by multiple authors

Why is "Anne" such an disliked episode? by multiple authors

What are your best Buffy trivia questions? by multiple authors

How much time passes between 'The Body' and 'The Gift'? by multiple authors

Jasmine's best exploits/power statements? by multiple authors

Top 2 favorite episodes... by multiple authors

I finished the show 20 years ago, and I’m only on season 1 of my rewatch, but I have thoughts about Cordelia and Angel by multiple authors

Buffy and Anya by multiple authors

Response to criticism over Buffy’s perceived hardness in S:7 by multiple authors

What did Faith and Willow talk about on their car ride back from Los Angeles? by multiple authors

Just finished watching Angel for the first time ever-VENT by multiple authors

It always seemed to me that Willow's arc was setting up to stall before Smashed and Wrecked by multiple authors

I Robot, You Jane appreciation thread by multiple authors

Buffy The Vampire Slayer is one of the most iconic shows ever produced but which season was THE season and why ? by multiple authors

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

I'm sure someone already though of this but I'll say it anyway because it's stuck in my head and I need to get it out.

Zombies x Descendants crossover. Meeting each other. Villains and Zombies meeting and sympathizing with each other because OBVIOUSLY. Auradon and Seabrook...doing whatever they do.

Thoughs?

Oh I definitely have Thoughts.

And unfortunately, you all have to see them too.

Let's say the Zombie protagonists are the same age as the Descendants protagonists, yeah?

The Zombies and the Isle kids definitely get eachother. Like, a lot.

That said, Addison is dragging about 99% of Descendants kids to therapy, personally. As she should, tbh.

The Zombies coach is utterly exactic because a lot of both Auradon and Isle boys end up playing football.

The pirates end up in cheer, though. I mean, it's shiny.

Also, turns out, the pirates (read: Harry and Uma) have the chronic inability to say „no“ to Addison Wells, Sunshine Personified.

As have the Werewolves.

Which is how the groups meet.

The wolf pack and the Lost Revenge crew gets locked in a staring contest in the locker room, mutually thinking something along the lines of „What the fuck is wrong with them??“. Some people might or might not have been bitten. Don't ask.

I need A-lli to meet Audrey Rose. Just. Them.

„I AM in harmony, just in like, a super-hostile way!“

„It's okay, deep breaths.“ *kicks the mothership*

They are allowed to have emotions for like two days and immediately choose violence and Iove them, your honour.

Audrey could also vibe with Bucky? Two flashy strong-headed cheer Captains? ...Then again, they might just try to kill eachother.

On the other hand, Harry meeting A-spen would be such a disaster.

„Such passion!“ „Dude, no. She wants to rip your heart out.“ „She can have it!“

And, you know. Everything Harry Hook has ever done. („Hey, she's the Captain I'm the first mate, enemies sea sick can't see straight. Call them fish bait, throw them on a hook, Uma's so hot they get burned if they look!“)

Uma and Wylla are having lots of fun though. (The most intense double dates you have EVER seen, once the pirates and the Werewolves get over their initial mutual, ehm, extreme distrust.)

Faciliers kind of. Try to find out if the Zombies can be controlled via voodoo magic? Like the risen-from-dead?

(It would be really funny if they could. And the sisters wouldn't exploit it. Too much.)

I think that some Isle kids are definitely low-key disappointed that the zombies don't eat real brains. Like, it's a scam, that's what it is.

Marya Rasputin still freaks out everyone when she casually pops off her hand at her wrist. („What?! I thought they all could do that!“)

Everyone is almost mortally offended that Seabrook has one (1) ice cream flavour.

Well, everyone except for Ben. He likes Vanilla. And Gil, who is just generally happy to have ice cream.

Evie and Eliza are definitely getting a little sabotage ✨ done and they are not getting caught.

Look, Seabrook might have gotten its redemption arc, but Auradon is far from it. And Eliza likes being a revolutionary.

Between Eliza, Wylla, Uma and Evie, King Beast decides to take a very sudden holiday, ideally very far from the sea and the forests.

Fairy Godmother decides to visit him about two weeks later, when all electricity in her house stopped working, the sprinkler system was on nonstop, the carnivores nearby went haywire and somehow, all of her food have gone bad. Oh, also a few fires, courtesy of the Hook sisters. Miraculously, as soon as the fires went on, the sprinklers went off.

(you know, a little sabotage? The girls are having fun.)

(I just want to make her suffer.)

The Aceys are dating and keep getting confused when upon learning this, the Isle kids solemly nod their heads and state: „Ah, yes. Mutually destructive threesome. We have all seen it.“

Cheerful Addy explains that „Don't worry, it's an Isle thing!“ and even more cheerful CJ tries to set up another double date. It does not go well.

Actually I think CJ would adore Addy too? I mean. Everyone loves Addy.

Mal is bitter over it and, like, she had it coming.

Oh, the Isle... Addison has so much to say about the Isle.

(She tracks down King Beast after about three days of his holiday, solely by asking people if they know where the former king is really nicely.)

I feel like she'd drag Ben out on, like, platonic dates? Hang out. Have fun. It was not right for teenagers to lead a revolution and it is not right for a teenager to be a king.

Surprisingly, I think that Mal should hang with Bonzo. Chill out. Spray paint a bit and zen away. It would be good for her. Bree brings them cookies.

They have guns, right? Because CJ is giving a gun to Eliza and Lonnie. A gift. She is practicing her Goodness, and Addy said gifts are a great way to get closer to people!

Just. Addison manages to befriend literally everyone?? And I love her??

Again, if I think of anything else, or, like, coherent plot for the crossover, I'll let you know!

[govindhtech]

DLSS Returns To LEGO Fortnite, FragPunk And More Games

DLSS Returns To Silent Hill 2, FragPunk, And More. Plus, Take A Look At This Amazing LEGO Fortnite Inspired RTX PC.

This week sees the introduction of the much-awaited SILENT HILL 2 with day-one support for DLSS Super Resolution, the FragPunk beta, which includes DLSS 3 and a suite of ray-traced effects, Simulakros.

You can also see a brand-new DLSS 3 performance video that features God of War Ragnarök powered by GeForce RTX, as well as a brand-new, one-of-a-kind RTX PC that is inspired by LEGO Fortnite and has a GeForce RTX 4080 SUPER.

FragPunk

FragPunk by Bad Guitar Studio is a quick-paced 5v5 hero shooter where each round’s rules are altered by powerup cards! Select your weaponry and hero, then choose from a variety of cards that may significantly alter the laws of play. A FragPunk round is never the same twice. Explore more than 100 Shard Cards with a selection that may be activated, changing every round to provide fresh, original combinations that lead to endless possibilities.

FragPunk Gameplay

It takes around 2.5 minutes for each round, so start playing now! You may expect an even more thrilling gaming experience because to the short TTK. Select your cards, personalize your weaponry combo, and select from 12 different heroes with unique skills to prepare for battle!

Should you be able to get your hands on this much awaited shooter, you will be able to turn on a variety of ray-traced effects, DLSS Frame Generation, and DLSS Super Resolution to greatly speed up performance, along with NVIDIA Reflex to make gameplay even snappier.

To significantly improve FragPunk’s graphics, GeForce RTX players may take use of the specialized Ray Tracing Cores on their GPUs to activate and speed up ray-traced transparent reflections, ray-traced opaque reflections, ray-traced ambient occlusion, and ray-traced shadows during the closed beta.

DLSS 3’s AI-powered method doubles FragPunk frame rates at 2560×1440, letting GeForce RTX 40 Series GPUs play at over 90 fps with Top settings and Ray Tracing. Some esports players favor the GeForce RTX 4070 Ti SUPER, 4080 SUPER, and 4090’s 1440p FPS above 200.

Gamers using GeForces may now enable NVIDIA Reflex in FragPunk. With the help of this game-changing technology, single-player games become more responsive and pleasurable and multiplayer games become more competitive as your actions happen faster on GeForce graphics cards and laptops.

Reflex may be enabled with a few clicks in the FragPunk closed beta, which reduces system latency and enhances the PC experience for GeForce players.

FragPunk Release Date

Starting on October 10th, FragPunk Closed Beta Will Include Ray Tracing, Reflex, and DLSS 3. The FragPunk closed beta starts on October 10 at 22:00 GMT. Register today on the FragPunk Steam website to be eligible for an invitation.

SILENT HILL 2

Today Sees the Release of SILENT HILL 2 with DLSS Super Resolution. James goes back to Silent Hill, the place they shared many memories, to look into a letter from his late wife. What he discovers is a deserted town shrouded in thick fog and stalked by unsettling beasts. In this recreation of SILENT HILL 2 from KONAMI and Bloober, you must face the creatures, figure out riddles, and look for signs of your spouse.

With support for DLSS Super Resolution from the outset, SILENT HILL 2 is now available on the Unreal Engine 5, speeding up gameplay in the highly anticipated and critically praised game.

Simulakros

In Dear Villagers and Sirio Games’ Simulakros, a fast-paced third-person shooter with rogue-lite elements, step into a future world of robots and sophisticated AI. The Simulakros unit is the ultimate weapon that the CORP is working to produce.To stop their plans, you must cooperate with a mysterious hacker and their devastating combat androids.

Release Date

Featuring DLSS 3 & Reflex Releases on October 10th.

God of War Ragnarök

God of War Ragnarök: DLSS 3 & Reflex Out Now. God of War Fimbulwinter begins God of War (2018) sequel Ragnarök. While Asgard’s armies prepare for a world-destroying conflict, Kratos and Atreus must scour the Nine Realms for answers. They’ll face Norse gods, monsters, and stunning landscapes throughout their journey. Kratos and Atreus must choose between their family and the kingdoms as Ragnarök looms.

On PC, God of War Ragnarök is now playable. To further improve your experience, you may enable DLSS 3 Frame Generation, DLSS Super Resolution, and NVIDIA Reflex from the moment you purchase a laptop or GPU from the GeForce RTX 40 Series.

LEGO Fortnite

A Unique LEGO Fortnite-Inspired RTX Computer Displayed. With DLSS and NVIDIA Reflex included, GeForce RTX GPUs let you to enjoy LEGO Fortnite like never before. With the help of GeForce RTX’s RT Cores, immersive ray-traced effects significantly increase the realism and detail of Fortnite’s stylized environment.

Performance is further accelerated by DLSS, and system latency is further decreased by Reflex, making gaming even more responsive. When all settings are enabled and maximized, LEGO Fortnite’s graphics on GeForce RTX GPUs approach photorealistic quality at the highest resolutions.

Modder czuga created a unique custom PC with a GeForce RTX 4080 SUPER, watercooling, over 1000 LEGO bricks, and the freshly announced LEGO Fortnite kits by combining his passion of GeForce RTX, ray tracing, and LEGO Fortnite.Image Credit To Intel

It took Czuga many hours to design this magnificent PC, and it took 14 days to construct, test, and adorn with the new LEGO Fortnite mini figures and biomes from the summer, winter, and desert. View the high-resolution picture collection provided by GeForce Garage to really appreciate the amazing workmanship that went into this project.

Read more on Govindhtec.com

[trapangeles]

Tap'N with Rap Artist - Slim Rose

Tell us about your story and how you got to where you are?

I'm from Los Angeles born and raised. I grew up in South Central with immigrant parents so I have always related to humble beginnings. After I graduated high school, I moved to Atlanta for a year and learned the value of independence. I moved back to LA & dated a beatmaker and he is one of my first museical inspirations. Unfortunately he passed away in front of me and it changed my life forever. My young adulthood I found myself thrust right into the Belly of the beast in Los Angeles. 

My music is a testament to how I view the world and how I grow into the Rose in a concrete jungle.

What has been your biggest obstacle in your journey as an artist?

My biggest journey has been learning to balance criticism. As an artist, you grow by considering how you can do better next time. ABCD Always Be Creating & Doing better. A lot of times the hardest criticsm comes from within. You have to be able to alchemize judgement into growth. Often times our ego shuts out criticism in order to protect us but being an artist means overcoming this instinct so that the soul can evolve. 

On the other hand, being an artist also means that you walk your own path. What may look like a mis-stroke to an outsider is a purposeful mark by the Artist. Artists have to be able to think outside of the box and make moves that nobody else would + accept any controversy that comes with it.

What lessons have you learned?

I have learned to Stick to the Script. Many times the best move is the one we almost didn't make. If you have a Plan, whether it's written down or all vision, stick to it. Don't fold under pressure. Keep it cool, keep it player, and hold it down. This requires trusting yourself and your intuition. 

Stay ready so you don't have to get ready.

Tell us about your music, how would you describe your sound?

My music is West Coast hip hop. I would describe my sound as a seductive Outerspace vibe you can sit back and smoke to. My music is my player take on living life in LA.

What other artists would you compare yourself to?

I get compared to Larry June the most and I have to agree!!! My goal is really to encapsulate that West Coast player vibe. I would also compare myself to Dom Kennedy and Curren$y. I would compare myself to Saweetie as well, when I'm really talking my sh--.

If you could work with any artists, who would you choose?

First I would record a song with Nicki Minaj because she is the Queen of Rap! She deserves more respect from upcoming female rappers. Dead or alive, I would choose Drakeo the Ruler because I always wanted to work with him. He's a West coast legend and his story is powerful, for good or for bad.

What sets you apart from other artists?

What sets me apart from other female rappers is that I like to tease my audience with wordplay and get my story across in a more seductive manner. I like to utilize double entendres and metaphors to give more meaning. I can simulate erotic imagery and magic without ever using certain words!

What sets me apart from other artists is that I strive to create RHYTHYM AND POETRY. My tone of voice is also unique because I really want to give that laid-back California vibe. 

I'm really here to tell a story that makes the audience wonder - not make the most turnt up RAH rah bop for the club.

What should we know about your work?

You should know that I am inspired by the best & that anything with the name Slim Rose on it is my authentic best. That's all that matters.

What are your plans for the future?

My plan for the near future is to drop more singles that really communicate siren Energy and California charisma. I will also be filming music videos inspired by my vision. In the future I would love to do more features on other people's songs. I would love to be an artist like Nicki where you rap on another artist's record but take over and the audience is really just waiting for her verse. I am also planning to record and release an EP called Heaven on Earth.

What motivates you, or keeps you going? 

My legacy motivates me..I see Art as a legacy and a time capsule. 100 years from now, if someone listens to my music, they will experience what it was like to live in LA as a Siren, as a woman, as a person, as a Soul - as a Lost Angel.

Tell us something that might surprise people about you.

Something that might surprise people about me is that I am led by God. Moved by free will.

How do you define success?

I define success as freedom. We spend so much of our lives trapped in invisible cages, trapped in the Matrix, enslaved by our minds and spirits of lack. A billionaire can appear successful but really be a slave to their lifestyle. An impoverished person may appear downtrodden but actually have free domain over his time. The goal is to land somewhere in the middle of the spectrum and exercise freedom over your time and resources.

Tell us about any projects or music you have coming out.

I have two singles on the way. One of my future singles is inspired by Hollywood and the lust of limelight and stardom. Another single is about how enjoyable life is and the beauty & joy of getting lost & found in the Moment.

What do you want people to know about you? Anything else you want mentioned?

Stream Sipping Champagne by Slim Rose.

How can people find and contact you?

Instagram @theslimbarbie Business IG @lostangelslingerie Email SlimWestXO@gmail.com

[sawyer-is-eepy]

yeah, this. I was abused by a narcissist, I lived through that "narc abuse" shit. and yeah, it fucking sucked!!!! and that person is a POS and everytime they get brought up I get unreasonably upset. I have trauma surrounding it, it's triggering. but you know what? I still support narcissists. it's not their fault their brain works the way it does. and yeah, abusers of the abuse I went through typically are narcissists. and yeah, it's helpful to have a way to describe that abuse. but anyone is capable of that abuse!! there's no such thing as depressed abuse, even though depression can cause people to abuse. narcissists aren't all automatically abusers and treating them like they are is... so ableist. yeah, narcissists who abuse are assholes. but helping narcissists find things like a good support system and therapy and help and love, whatever they need to be a better person, is so so vital. even if narcissists WERE all abusers, abusers can recover, and would-be abusers can learn to not be like that before something happens. they are not all inherently bad.

OP's point still stands, though. just because we should help narcissists who have abused doesn't mean we should enable them, or that narcissists are automatically exempt from like, not being dicks. just like with my ADHD- yes, my brain makes it PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE for me to be as functional as someone w out ADHD would. I CAN'T be on top of things that way, I CAN'T focus that way, I CAN'T exist that way, basically. but that doesn't give me a pass to just forget important things or dates, or give up on school. instead, I find ways to do those things that work for me. I set reminders that I know I will see and I double check everything. I doodle in class to help me focus and talk to my teachers or classmates about notes I missed. I still make an effort to learn habits that will help me achieve the same thing in the long run. I find ways to work WITH my brain that benefit me and the rest of society, and I find ways to help them understand that I am learning.

I sympathize w those w NPD because I know what it's like to constantly be told it's an excuse when you tell people "oh, I'm sorry I have [x] disorder." but you can't let that anger consume you otherwise it'll become true. if you know you need to get better but haven't taken the steps, I hope you can soon and I'll be rooting for you!! take little steps. for those currently on the path, I'm proud of you. deep going, you're doing well. for those who've mostly got it but still slip up sometimes, it's alright. mistakes happen. don't linger on it but don't brush it off. mistakes are bound to occur but it doesn't make you horrible. I'm proud that you even made the move!!

every single person who has NPD that struggles with it deserves the same things people without it who struggle with similar issues do. they've got an extra step to the path of learning to be that everyone else. an extra layer to unpeel. this doesn't mean they're entitled to be a douchebag always and forever, nor does it mean you have to facilitate that yourself. but it can and should happen.

point is, those with stigmatized disorders are still here. they're not like some carnivorous plant that will automatically stop begging for blood if you just ignore their pleas. it'll only get worse, and eventually, the plant will eat YOU! and yes I just made a little shop of horrors analogy, shut up it works. if you just keep poking and prodding the beast and expecting it to just take it, the beast is only gonna get more violent. the lucky thing about this scenario though is that those with NPD AREN'T these big evil monsters. sure, they can be. you might even be alright to say that they often are! but I'd argue a large portion of WHY they're such "beasts" is because society has constantly rejected them and provided them no help. given them a puzzle without the pieces and gotten upset when they ask for help.

ppl w/ NPD are neurodivergent, thus they have it harder than the average NT person. we respect them. we give them support and help them manage the world because they have to learn it differently than we do. t

there is a way.

PSA: No one is obligated to treat you kindly if you've already decided you're somehow above the effort of doing the same because of your alleged disorders/past traumas. If someone venting about their experience with a particular style of abuse strikes a nerve and feels personal to you, that actually says a LOT about you. Cuz people who walk around the pool are not the ones who get bent out of shape when the lifeguard yells at someone to stop running.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #197: Prelude of the War-Devil!

July, 1980

Lets keep this biweekly Avengers fest rolling. Because that’s what fests do. They roll.

The cover this time is going for that “here’s a bunch of things what happened here” approach, with some FILTHY LIES.

Also, Jarvis seems to have taken Vision’s job as tiny logo mascot. I am Okay with this.

So in this issue apparently: the Avengers will get stuck in an elevator because Real World Problems can happen to them too. I’d like to see Superman stuck in an elevator. No, really. I would. How would that even work? The man can tear apart moons and fly. We also see an outside shot of the Avengers Mansion but I doubt that will happen. We see Wonder Man and Beast mobbed by women so Beast’s sexy, sexy blue fur continues to work its odd aphrodisiacal magic. We see Ms Marvel having a romantic walk on the beach with Scarlet Wanda. And we see the silhouette of the titular WAR-DEVIL.

So clearly a lot going on here.

Last time though. Last time: The Avengers jut got back from a three-parter where an escaped mental patient turned out to be a clone which led the Avengers to shut down a secret academy for training henchmen, goons, and mooks and fight Taskmaster for the first time. Jocasta Did A Thing and now the Avengers have realized they’ve been ignoring her and promise to try to do that less.

Also, further back, Scarlet Witch decided to take some soul-searching time off of the team after taking some soul-searching time in Transia. Her asking for more vacation time sparked a huge blowup by Agent Gyrich that eventually led to the Avengers being freed his heavy yoke. So good job, Wanda. I bet nobody has ever enacted such lasting change just by asking for a vacation.

We start off and I am immediately proven wrong when the big issue starting splash page is an outside shot of the Avengers Mansion.

What a fool am I.

But what a fool is climate. Because the Taskmaster was defeated earlier in the day according to the caption boxes but its a bright sunny day when it had been snowing when the Avengers left to chase Wasp who was chasing Selbe, the aforementioned clone.

New York weather is a mystery.

Also a mystery: the inkers for this issue because they go uncredited.

The establishing shot of the Avengers Mansion was just a comedic transition when an annoyed exclamation zooms in to show the Avengers all trapped in an elevator.

Beast is annoyed that such a mundane problem would happen to them and shudders if word got out to the Daily Bugle. And also its kind of crowded. For some reason all the Avengers decided to take the same elevator.

... Maybe they exceeded the weight limit? I’m sure it must have higher tolerances than normal elevators but you packed ‘legally an appliance’ Jocasta, built like a gorilla made of muscle Beast, and ‘wears a suit of armor’ Iron Man in the same elevator car.

Vision decides to do the thing he’s capable of doing and just intangibles out of the elevator car to free up some space.

And he gets kind of a phrase-catcher situation here as Beast thinks, in the manner that people often do, that the Vision’s ghosting still gives him the creeps no matter how often he sees it.

Poor Vision. He’s demonstrated time and again that he is a real boy with feelings who wants to do good and even his allies think he’s creepy.

Anyway, Wasp, Yellowjacket, and Ant-Man decide to help out with the space issues too by shrinking tiny-size.

Ant-Man even climbs onto Iron Man’s shoulder so he can give his considered opinion as an electrical engineer as Iron Man tries to fix the elevator panel.

Which I guess means the problem is in the electronics and not the pulley or cable or anything.

I don’t know how elevators work so I must assume its magic and physics making an abomination baby.

Wonder Man, who has mild claustrophobia from years spent dead in a coffin, suggests just OH YEAH’ing out of the elevator.

But the Avengers are somehow WAY over-budget for repairs this month. SOMEHOW. (I bet its Wonder Man’s fault)

Anyway, no need to put some red in Tony’s checkbook. Iron Man just found and fixed the problem so the elevator is on its way again. The one page and change nightmare is finally at an end.

I���ll note that Ant-Man did not give a single piece of electrical engineering expertise the whole time he was on Iron Man’s shoulder. I think he just wanted to ride on his shoulder.

When the elevator reaches the ground floor, Jarvis is there to greet them with seltzer and aspirin because Vision told him what had happened and Jarvis is considerate like that.

And a little jowlier than usual. He looks a bit Hitchcockian. Might be from the change in art team.

Jarvis also has phone messages that came while the Avengers were gone and/or stuck in an elevator.

Someone called to ask to do an interview with Captain America and a Ms Zimmerman called for Beast.

Beast reveals that he has set Wonder Man up on a date. In the same panel that we see Wonder Man grabbing the entire bottle of aspirin. He tries to get Beast to talk this over but the excited blue friend is already sprinting out of the room.

Captain America tells everyone else that they have forty-five minutes to shower and change into fresher clothes (except you, Jocasta. You’re naked) because he’s calling for a debriefing session.

And then in the most dramatic panel possible without a lightning strike, Jarvis thinks to himself:

Jarvis: “Oh, dear, and the coffee percolator broke down this morning! Will they ever forgive me?”

Seriously. This panel needs a dramatic sting.

MEANWHILE, at Stark International Detroit, a Dr. Cowan and Mr. Karnowski talk about a project almost being done. Tomorrow final testing will begin.

On RED RONIN!

I guess the titular War-Devil.

Red Ronin had to be rebuilt after its head was severed by “those awful mega-monsters.”

So lets unpack some stuff. Red Ronin is a giant robot. Which was built in a collaboration between Stark International and Japanese scientists. For SHIELD. With the intention of fighting Godzilla.

SHIELD had an anti-Godzilla giant robot.

Just let that soak in. SHIELD commissioned a giant robot. To fight Godzilla.

Amazing.

Anyway. Mr. Karnowski commiserates with Dr. Cowen that he put so much of himself into the restoration project that giving it up to the test team tomorrow will be like giving up his own child.

But Dr. Cowen reveals that he doesn’t intend to give Red Ronin up to anyone. A statement he punctuates with a wrench to the back of Mr. Karnowski’s skull.

I knew I couldn’t trust a comic book character with a shitty soul patch. Even though I could only see it on the same page that he revealed his treachery.

We’ll revisit this treacherous bad facial hair man later.

Lets check in with Cap using the most ridiculous exercise equipment imaginable.

Look at that thing. What even is that. Does it revolve in some way? Do you pull it? Which muscle groups does it work?

Anyway, Iron Man comes in to interrupt Cap’s exercise routine as he so often do, apparently. And he brought Jocasta because the thing he wants to talk to Cap about is promoting her to full Avengers status since she’s helped out so much lately.

She’s basically been like Hercules, crashing on the Avengers’ couch despite not being an Avenger but also she hasn’t been eating all of their grapes because she does not eat. So she’s automatically a better house guest for that reason.

Cap thinks its an excellent idea and decides to bring it up at the next regular meeting (as opposed to a debriefing session) and Jocasta runs off to tell the others.

She manages to emasculate Cap by effortlessly lifting the exercise equipment out of the way and exclaiming it isn’t very heavy rather than just walk around it.

Captain America: “‘Not very...?’ *Sigh* I think maybe I’ve had enough exercise for one day.”

Iron Man: “Could be, Cap. Could be.”

Look, Cap. Self-improvement is admirable. You can’t let yourself be discouraged just because you’ll never become a beautiful robot no matter how much weight you lift.

Meanwhile, the greatest and most dramatic plot point in this whole issue is solved.

Vision solves the broken percolator issue by heating it up with his Solar Beam, ensuring that the Avengers have coffee at their meeting and don’t hate Jarvis forever for something out of his control.

Hooray Vision!

Jocasta rushes in to tell Jarvis and Vision that she’s going to be nominated as an Avenger. And then fishes for what Vision thinks about that.

He tells her congratulations. In his most Spock-esque stoic pout.

She realizes that he’s still feeling feelings about Wanda’s absence and says that if she, Jocasta, becomes an Avenger, she, Jocasta, will be around a lot more in case Vision needs anyone to talk to.

Vision broods moodily out the window and tells her he’ll keep that in mind.

“The words that flow from the synthozoid’s lips are hollow, as if each sits lonely, isolated within its own syntax. And they are cold...”

... I think Jocasta has maybe feelings for Vision. Why do potential love triangles keep happening to him??

I mean, I can understand why Jocasta is drawn to him. She tried in an earlier issue to establish a bond with him as they are both robots but then she tried to sympathize with his feelings so he yelled and broke stuff while claiming he had no feelings.

Out of everyone, he is the most able to empathize with her situation but also the least likely. Because he is wrapped up in himself.

If Jocasta has Wasp’s feelings, she might also have feelings for Yellowjacket without being able to do anything about it because he’s with Jan. Although later on, after Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne divorce, Jocasta does date Hank for a while. Who she views as the god of robots rather than any direct familial relation. Which doesn’t strike me as a good foundation for a lasting relationship but maybe she just wanted to make out with god for a while.

I think Jocasta also dates Aaron Stack for a bit but I don’t know what they have in common aside from both being robots.

Anyway, we cut to a cold New Jersey beach where Wanda has rented a cottage so she can sort out her life, think about what she wants, and to be alone.

And then Ms Marvel shows up to give Wanda unsolicited life advice.

Because Carol Danvers.

Ms Marvel: “I hope you don’t mind my being here, Wanda. But I believe I understand what you’re going through -- and I thought you might want some advice from a sister Avenger.”

Its apparently common knowledge that one of the things Wanda took a thinking vacation to think about was whether she wants children.

Ms Marvel: “But just consider what that would do to you career as a super heroine. You’d have to focus so much of your life on a single individual, an infant, and at the expense of an entire populace that looks to you for protection. You’re a vital person, Wanda, one that half the women in the world would probably kill to be. Surely you find that more ‘fulfilling’ than any silly stereotype of having a baby?”

...

.......

These are important issues to consider when deciding as a superhero whether to have a baby or not and while Wanda doesn’t agree with Ms Marvel’s reasoning she has been considering these issues and come to the same conclusion.

But still. Geez. This feels like the writers’ piling more straw onto the straw feminist characterization that they’ve given Ms Marvel recently. I’m not familiar with her solo series. Maybe she was always like this. But she seemed chiller in her earlier Avengers appearances. Back in those crazy days during the Korvac Saga.

Also, I know that Avengers #200 looms on the horizon. This feels like karmic set-up and that makes me angry.

There’s this trope called the law of inverse fertility which basically means that in fiction the more you want a child the less likely you are to get one and vice versa.

So Ms Marvel giving a big speech about how having a baby is stupid compared to saving the world and then getting a mysterious pregnancy at the end of this issue... It just feels vindictive.

Ugh.

Anyway.

Scarlet Wanda: “When the Vision and I first married, we decided against having a family, figuring it wouldn’t be fair for a child to have parents who might be killed at any time by just doing their jobs. But with all that’s happened lately concerning my own parents, and with my brother’s impending fatherhood, I had second thoughts. That is, until I was able to put my responsibilities into perspective. Which means that while I’d dearly love to have a child some day, I realize that my life as an Avenger -- and the love I share with the Vision -- are what really matter now.”

In fact, her mind made up, Wanda was even about to return to New York when Ms Marvel stopped by with her unsolicited advice.

But suddenly, Ms. Marvel feels dizzy and collapses.

MEANWHILE, another outside establishing shot of Avengers Mansion!

Iron Man actually arrived ten minutes early for the debriefing. He wanted to send a summary of the battle with Taskmaster to the Fantastic Four so they can be on the lookout for any more goon academies.

But also: he wanted to talk to Cap before the meeting.

He finally tells Cap of the soul-searching he has been doing and how he has decided to step down officially as Avengers chairman.

Humorously to me, Cap immediately asks if it was because of something he did but Iron Man says that he just needs to spend more time helping his boss Tony Stark WHO IS DEFINITELY NOT HIM with his problems.

This comes as a shock to Captain America who thought he was only replacing Iron Man as chairman temporarily but since his mind is made up, Cap says he’ll schedule an election meeting as soon as possible.

And then time for the debriefing meeting. Or rather the post-debriefing meeting.

An hour passes so we don’t actually have to watch what a debriefing meeting consists of but apparently it involves relating, collating, and recording data and impressions from their recent battle.

None of these people know how to sit in a chair. Look at you, Cap. Why do you have one foot up on the chair? Iron Man... you are on the complete opposite side of the room as your chair and the meeting hasn’t been adjourned until this panel. Jocasta... don’t lurk over someone like a creeper. And Beast... just don’t.

Cap tells everyone that he’ll circulate a memo about the election meeting in a day or two because in an organization where you count all the members on two hands, official memos are definitely required.

And also, how come we haven’t seen any of these memos?

I would absolutely love to see some official Avengers memos about.... fridge use and appropriate dress code and stuff. Make it happen, Marvel.

With the meeting adjourned, its time for R&R so Beast tells Wonder Man to get dressed in his “stepping-out duds.” Wonder Man says he’s never been lucky with blind dating but Beast bets he’ll have the time of his life “even if you aren’t covered with blue fur!”

He knows! He knows the secret of his own success with women! Its canon! Women in the Marvel Universe love blue furry guys!

See also: Nightcrawler.

Nearby, Ant-Man thanks Yellowjacket and Wasp for keeping his secret identity a secret and then takes off on flying ant. Although he goofuses that up a little and ends up dangling from the ant’s leg as it flies off.

Yellowjacket tries to excuse himself to go back to his lab and do science but Wasp makes him an unstated (but probably sex related) offer that can’t refuse.

Evening strikes and we get to see the double date that Beast set up was at a 60s rock revival at Madison Square Garden.

It makes perfect sense. Its music that Wonder Man is familiar with and anyone that goes to a 60s revival probably likes old stuff thats stuck in the past.

The double dates show up: Melissa Zimmerman for Beast and her friend Candy Brown for Wonder Man.

Candy immediately latches onto Simon’s arm and says she loves strong men and Wonder Simon thinks that maybe this won’t be so bad after all but then a small child name Chauncey wanders over with popcorn and a balloon and he’s Candy’s son and also he recognizes Simon as Mr. Muscles.

And jumps on him and crawls all over him and tries to ride him.

Candy had to bring Chauncey to the date because the sitter cancelled. Also she’s divorced because her ex Myron just didn’t understand children so she dumped the bum.

Good for you, Candy.

Simon is less than thrilled though. And he whispers an implied violent threat to Beast.

Try to keep an open mind, Simon. Nobody likes getting stuff sprung on them or having children try to strangle them but think of it like this. She’s a single mom trying to get back out there after a divorce. And you’re a single dude trying to get back out there after being legally dead for years.

Meanwhile, back at the mansion, the less social people.

Iron Man comes into the TV room where Vision is slouching with amazingly bad posture watching something called Connections.

I guess Vision doesn’t have to worry about hurting his back with bad posture though. Lucky synthetic jerk.

The armored Avenger tells the android Avenger that he just heard from Wanda that she’s coming back. She had to take Ms Marvel to a hospital but as soon as she’s good to travel, she’ll return to the mansion.

Iron Man: “She hopes by tomorrow. She says she’s eager to see you. I, um, just thought you’d like to know.”

Vision: “That’s very considerate, Iron Man. Thank you.”

Iron Man: (Hmph. Anyone else would be jumping for joy to hear that his wife was returning after an extended leave. But not the Vision. I wonder if any of us will ever really understand him?)

Of course, what Iron Man misses as he turns to leave is the tiny smile that Vision gets when he hears the news.

I don’t want to judge too harshly. Vision is a hard guy to read. His emotions are either incredibly downplayed or explosive. But you’ve been allies and friends with this guy for years. Learn to read him and accept that he emotes differently.

Although it would be funny if Vision tried to express himself more clearly by yelling his emotions.

Like this.

So Vision smiled and a pile of angels got their wings, presumably. I guess issue over?

Wait. Dangit. There’s that... prelude to the War-Devil thing. And I guess maybe we should follow up on why Carol collapsed even though we already know through the bitter lens of hindsight.

So at Stark International Detroit, some security guards are doing a search because Mr. Karnowski and Dr. Cowan never checked out with the rest of the late shift.

They find an unconscious Karnowski stuffed behind some equipment and wonder where Dr. Cowan could be.

And then Red Ronin launches out of its silo.

Dr. Cowan talks to himself or maybe to Red Ronin about how he secretly altered the cyber-helmet that controls Red Ronin to only respond to his commands.

Dr. Cowan: “I-I was so scared. So very scared. I was sure all along that my secret work would be discovered. B-but now we’re one, Ronin, and we’re free to achieve our ultimate goal: the regrettable, but very necessary, instigation of -- WORLD WAR III!”

Okay. So. This guy isn’t behaving rationally. And he just stole a giant robot designed to fight Godzilla. To start World War III.

Less than good.

Meanwhile, a hospital in southern New Jersey.

Scarlet Wanda Frank finds Ms Marvel’s doctor and asks if she’s okay. The doctor believes she is but wants to run more tests.

Scarlet Wanda: “May I see her?”

Doctor: “Oh, definitely, she could use the moral support. For some reason, she seems to be taking the news of her condition rather badly.”

Scarlet Wanda: “‘Condition’...?”

Doctor: “Yes, though I don’t see why she should be upset. After all, nausea and fainting are quite common symptoms for someone who is -- THREE MONTHS PREGNANT!”

And we get to see Ms Marvel crying in a hospital bed.

Fuck you committee of writers and editors that decided on this plotline and intentionally or otherwise punished a feminist character who did not want children with a mysterious pregnancy. Fuck you.

I’ll talk a little bit more about the committee of bad ideas when we hit #200 but Jim Shooter said that everyone could blame him so fuck you Jim Shooter.

Terrible, terribleness of this plotline aside, I detect a new formula in this issue.

Like the Taskmaster arc, we’re starting with a slower initial issue with downtime and character beats for the Avengers while the problem that will fill two additional issues is teased.

Last arc it was sort of a mystery centered around Selbe which ended up just being a precursor to a bigger thing. Cloning for organ transplants revealed secret villain academies.

This time its a giant robot. That was built to fight Godzilla.

I kind of like this format. I don’t know if I’d like it if it kept just being three issue arcs back to back but I like the breather issues with character beats and Avengers R&Ring.

The Ms Marvel stuff aside, its interesting that as we approach issue 200, it does feel like there's a big shakeup due. There’s going to be a new Avengers chairman. Jocasta is up to be voted onto the team. Scarlet Witch will return.

The Ms Marvel stuff aside, I am excited to see what the book does in the upcoming future.

Follow @essential-avengers. I passed my 200th Essential Avengers post a ways back but I didn’t make a big deal about it. Because I forgot to keep track of the numbers what with annuals and crossovers. Maybe when I repost it on the essential-avengers blog I’ll remember to.

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[thiswasinevitableid]

9 Indruck?

It's time to kick off the winter fills! I started with something fluffy and on the shorter side. Requests are still open if folks have ones they want to see!

09. I’m a werebear trying to explain to my new partner that I do sort of hibernate (Indruck)

Winter feels colder in Kepler than anywhere else. Indrid’s never been able to tell if the altitude, old buildings, or some sort of curse is to blame. But this year, he’s finally looking forward to the freezing nights and chilly days. Because this year, he finally asked Duck Newton, local beefcake, out on a date. 

Eight months later, Indrid still considers it one of the top three choices of his life. Not least of all because Duck, with his fuzzy chest and full belly and strong arms, is always warm and always happy for Indrid to cuddle up against him. They can have all kinds of cozy, inside dates, and maybe even outside ones as long as Duck promises to warm him up afterwards.

He knocks and steps into the apartment when Duck calls that it’s open. He barely gets through it before his boyfriend’s arms are around him and a round face is turning up for a kiss Indrid instantly gives. 

“Evenin, sugar. Will you let me take you out to dinner?”

“Of course. Do you want to try the new cafe? Barclay said they weren’t bad.”

“I was thinkin maybe China King? They got that dinner buffet going on.”

“Oooh, that sounds lovely. Let me just put my bag down.” He sets his overnight bag next to the couch and double checks that his wallet is actually in his jacket pocket and not buried under a sketchbook, “Why the yen for buffets these days?”

“Uh, I, uh, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sweetheart, every time we’ve eaten out in the last few weeks we’ve gone somewhere with a buffet. It’s not a problem, it simply occurred to me that it’s a new habit for us.” He looks over his shoulder and finds his boyfriend staring at the floor.

“Duck? Is everything alright? I am being serious when I say I do not mind this trend.”

“I, uh, I got something to tell you. I’m gonna be a little different over the next couple of months. I…hibernate. Kinda.”

Indrid blinks, “I suppose I should have seen that coming.”

Indrid is so excited for this date. They’ve been together two months and Duck is taking him to a secret spot in the forest where he works to see if they can catch a glimpse of some foxes. 

Duck starts them on the trail at the perfect time to bathe in the sunset before the route drops down into a more heavily wooded portion of the forest. The ranger had warned him it was a little under two miles to the spot, but Indrid doesn’t mind; as long as he’s with Duck, he’s having the time of his life. 

They’re in the middle of a conversation about the best kind of theme park when Duck doubles over with a surprised groan. Indrid moves to help him, but is waved away as the ranger looks up at the sky where the moon is full and bright through the branches. 

“Well…fuck.”

There’s a horrifying cracking and growling and Duck’s arm flies out to the side, knocking Indrid to the dirt and sending his glasses flying. By the time he finds them, Duck is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there’s a bear, as in a literal bear, in front of him. Just as he’s trying to remember how to tell a black bear from a brown bear and what he’s supposed to do to avoid being killed by one, the beast shakes its head.

“Whoof, sorry about that sugar. Got too damn caught up in plannin’ our date and forget to check where the moon was gonna be.” The bear rises easily onto his back feet, then offers Indrid his hand. Indrid hesitates, then takes it, noticing more human details about the figure as he stands. Most striking is the face, its shape and smile unmistakably Duck’s.

“You recognize me?” It’s so strange having to look up at him. 

“Yep. I’ve been a werebear since I was 18, so I don’t freak out and go feral when I change forms.” Claws scratch the back of a thick, furry neck, “On the plus side, if you get sick of walkin you can just ride on my back. But, uh, if this whole deal is too much I can walk you back to the car. I try not to be intimidating like this but it ain’t all that easy.”

Indrid sets a hand on Duck’s chest and understands why bearskin rugs were once so popular. 

“I…I think I could use a break from walking.” He smiles, “I’m not quite the outdoorsman you are.”

Duck grins and drops to all fours, “Hop on.”

“What exactly does hibernating entail?” Indrid sips his Mountain Dew as Duck polishes off two crab rangoons with impressive speed. 

“Since I ain’t a full bear, it ain’t a full-on hibernation. Way it usually goes is: I get real fuckin hungry about a week before it happens, I get the house as cozy as I can, and then I hunker down until the end of February. I don’t sleep the whole time, but my energy takes a hell of a hit and the most I can do a lot of the time is read or tidy the house. Thank fuck they’ll deliver from the grocery store these days, when I was younger I had to shamble around the Kroger looking like a sack of laundry.” He lifts his fork, but only pushes his Chow Mein around the plate, “I’ve been tryin to figure out how to tell you. I mean, we can still see each other, and I really want to, but I, you’ve been talkin’ about all these things you were excited to do this winter and I ain’t gonna be up for most of ‘em.”

Indrid reaches across the table to take his free hand, “I won’t say I’m not somewhat disappointed, but that matters far less than the fact you want to keep seeing me even when you do not have energy for much.”

“Course I do. Wouldn't be the holidays without some sugar.” He winks. Indrid snickers, then steals an egg roll off his plate, earning himself a quiet, playful growl. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The first day of hibernation is always a little weird; the drowsiness and heavy limbs make his brain think he’s getting sick and he ends up chugging orange juice out of habit. 

He emails Juno to let her know it’s started; she’s in charge of scheduling at the park and has also been his friend since junior high. Years ago, the two of them came up with a plan that allowed Duck to take on basically any admin or behind the scenes work he can so he doesn’t burn through all his vacation and sick time over the winter. 

Work taken care of for the day, he shifts into his bear form and lumbers over to the air mattress and pile of blankets and pillows he put near the heating vent. Pinecone pads over, purring as she bumps her head into his side and curls up near his feet. 

He dozes off and wakes up five hours later to Indrid using his spare key to slip into the apartment. He smells like vanilla shampoo and whatever they use to sterilize the tools and surfaces at the tattoo shop, and Duck manages to sit up enough to snuffle and nuzzle his face in greeting. 

“Hello, sweetheart. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

“You.”

“That’s very kind of you to sayOH, oh goodness.” Indrid laughs as Duck drags him down into the blanket nest with him, “are you going to stay a bear the entirety of your hibernation?”

“Much as I can, yeah. It’s comfier that way.”

“I concur.” The human cuddles up to him, relaxing in his arms in a way that makes Duck feel like the luckiest creature–werebear or otherwise–in the whole world. He rolls onto his back so his boyfriend can rest on his chest. They stay like that for a while, Indrid talking about his day, until an unusual itchiness slips under Duck’s fur. He needs to get up because Indrid’s stomach is gurgling and he will not let his human go hungry in his den.

He leaves Indrid in the blankets with a promise to return, poking and prodding various appliances until he has a bowl of mac and cheese for Indrid and salad bowl of it for himself. When they’re done he settles on his side, sleep tugging at his eyelids. Indrid kisses his snout and goes to wash out their dishes. By the time he’s back, Duck is just awake enough to murmur “g’night, sugar” and hear the “goodnight, my love” that comes in reply. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let me make one thing clear. If you, at any point, require me to put clothes back on, you will be getting them for me because I’m the only person in this house without fur and it is cold.” Indrid’s voice is muffled in a pillow as he flails, and fails, to pull down the blankets that are draped over Duck’s back. 

Duck nuzzles the base of his neck and offers his best attempt at a kiss to his shoulder, “We got everything we need to last through the weekend. Far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to put anything on until Monday.”

Indrid rolls onto his back, smiling blearily up at him (after Duck accidentally snapped a pair, they agreed Indrid’s glasses should stay off during sex no matter how farsighted he is). Duck lowers down so one of his arms is draped across Indrid’s chest; he’s big enough that it keeps the human covered without him having to drop his full weight onto his boyfriend. He fades in and out of sleep as Indrid speaks softly and stims with his fur. 

Duck’s never had sex during his hibernation, figuring he’d either be too tired or boring for it to be fun. Tonight, Indrid had been in his lap while they watched Red Dust on His Soul and the way he fit perfectly in Duck’s arms, the fact that his very presence made the mound of fabric feel like home, and the sounds of sex from the screen had Duck lazily rolling his hips to see what would happen. 

The answer turned out to be forty-five minutes of slow, sleepy sex, Indrid on his stomach or his hands and knees so that Duck could drape himself around him and keep his human safe and warm. 

He doesn’t move from Indrid’s side until the human asks if there’s any eggnog in the fridge. Duck heats two mugs of it in the microwave, passing Indrid the one where little mothmans appear on the cup when it meets hot liquid. Aubrey and Dani came by earlier this week to help him decorate his apartment for Christmas, something he likes but rarely has the energy to do, and so Indrid is bathed in faint, rainbow light as he sips and sighs in pleasure. 

When he notices Duck staring, he cocks his head, “Enjoying the view, my love?”

“Yeah.” He reaches down, running his claws through Indrid’s pale hair, “y’know, I never hated my hibernation. But I didn’t think I could love it either. Now that I got you, turns out I was wrong.”

Indrid rests his face against Duck’s leg,nuzzling the dark fur , “Then come down here, my majestic one, and let’s see just how nice we can make it.”

[smallblip]

You asked, I deliver! Part II of Accidental baby acquisition💖 I lost one of the asks 😩 but anon who asked about baby Udo, I named the baby in your honour! Saddle up cowboys! I’m not good with sequels but here we are-

Babygate:

the scandal that implies that a certain boy band member cheated on his partner (another band member) and had a kid even when the mom was never pregnant.

- urban dictionary

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. Life is definitely picking up. Pieck still sends him excerpts of her dirty fanfiction to proofread, Bertholdt is still doing all he can to “retire at 30”, Annie might have eloped with said boyfriend. But he’s seeing Porco on the regular now, he’s really cute, he’s got a nice ass. Reiner can’t complain.

He’s also recently donated his Levi Ackerman standee. Only because it’s getting increasingly hard to reconcile the fact that he has a life sized cutout of his colleague’s boyfriend in his room.

What he can complain about is said colleague (and friend) dropping bombs on him. He’s one of the moderators of one of the bigger No Name servers. Sometimes he wonders if that’s a conflict of interest because, well, he knows the guy on a first name basis. But today he has other concerns. He sees his notifications blowing up and decides to go on the No Name server. And lo and behold. There’s a paparazzi shot of Levi and Hanji with a stroller taking a walk in a new channel called “MYSTERY FAMILY?”.

He cancels his plans with Porco. “Don’t text me for the next few hours, got a fire to fight.” He clicks send, and feels kinda bad, so he sends Porco really dank meme to appease him. (That doesn’t stop Porco from doing exactly what Reiner told him not to do and demanding an explanation every five minutes).

He forces himself to take a deep breath before texting Hanji-

“Hanji… I don’t mean to be rude but…

WHAT THE FUCK?”

—

So here begins babygate. A conspiracy theory that took the Internet by storm.

“Levi Ackerman had a secret marriage! He was keeping this from us from the start!”

“It’s a publicity stunt to keep No Name relevant during their hiatus!”

“It’s an elaborate scheme by the company to punish Levi for announcing the hiatus without their knowledge!”

“Levi’s mystery partner was sent by the lizard people to take control of his mind and produce half-lizard, half-human hybrid babies to take over the world! What a bitch!” (This is Hanji’s favourite).

And the internet’s favourite- this is all an elaborate scheme to cover up the scandalous love affair between Levi and Eren- the band’s guitarist.

“What the fuck?” Levi had said during dinner once, to which Reiner had to swallow his food and pretend he never read or actively looked up ereri content. Yes. Reiner knows the name of their ship.

Levi hadn’t been too worried before, but when pictures of them shopping for baby stuff leaked online, something snaps. Something snaps and Erwin tells him he needs more time to figure out the biggest PR crisis in No Name history.

It’s Levi. Levi is the PR crisis.

So in the meantime, no shock reveals, no more social media, (if possible) no more leaving the house with pregnant girlfriend in tow. “Don’t do ANYTHING.” Erwin had said, “especially not you!” Erwin had directed that at Eren, who suggested he makes an announcement. Erwin shudders. He remembers all the past scandals they got themselves into just because Eren, bless him, didn’t know when to shut up.

“I’m sorry…” Levi says to Hanji when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching a documentary on whale migration.

“Huh?” Hanji says, voice muffled through her incessant sniffling because “whales are delivered tail first, Levi! They wear their mothers like hats!”

He apologises for putting her through the mess that is him and his job. And Hanji smiles at him. He wonders if their kid will look like her. He’s hoping they would.

“Levi…” Hanji sighs, taking his face in her hands, “that night at the bar I thought to myself ‘this man has a face I would risk it all for’… I think this counts within the realms of ‘all’”

Levi scoffs, but a smile is threatening the corners of his lips. Erwin’s nagging over the phone fades a little and he sinks a little lower into the couch. He sighs one more time for good measure before saying-

“So… you wanna know which my favourite babygate theory is?”

—

“And you’re really not bothered by all this?” Reiner asks, in an emergency meeting that he had scheduled into her calendar. He hates that he’s packing things into her already busy schedule when she’s about to pop but, he figures it’s better now than when the baby’s actually out. He had booked a meeting room and everything, figuring if he projected some of the crazy shit they’re saying on the fan boards up on screen, Hanji would start taking this seriously. Because if Reiner knows anything, it’s that the fans will do anything to keep their ship afloat.

He scrolls past another post on the lizard people and Hanji gets him to pause.

“I mean… A little?” Hanji pinches her fingers together.

“Hanji…” Reiner sighs, “you and Levi discuss and rate babygate conspiracy theories you find online I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all…”

Hanji looks at Reiner- an absolute state of panic. And she considers panicking for a moment. She’s read articles dissecting babygate and although they’re absolutely batshit, Hanji appreciates how well-researched they are. Which is a little scary. To be fair to Levi, he’s been trying to get her to worry. “I can’t keep you safe all the time, you have to be careful” like he’s going off to war somewhere. But it’s not in Hanji nature to worry about things like this. She’s a researcher at a lab who lived an ordinary life up until the point the universe hit her with a-

Sike! Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy! What are you gonna do about it?

And now she knows what headcanons and lemons are, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. So Hanji decides, she’ll do nothing. She’ll go on indulgently long walks Levi in tow, she’ll talk his ear off about work. And like a good girlfriend, she’ll listen to his demos (and enjoy them) and tell him “are you sure anger rhymes with danger?”.

“I don’t really know how to worry about anything beyond our samples getting contaminated…” Hanji says, sheepish. Reiner sighs. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket on Hanji’s life. He wants to be fun Reiner. Cool as a cucumber. Reiner who manages to make it through dinner at Hanji’s without having to excuse himself to hyperventilate in her bathroom because Levi is right there. And he’s so afraid that he might just be able to read his mind and find out he had looked up Levi Ackerman x y/n fanfiction once in his foolish youth (youth being approximately four months back)

Reiner shudders.

“Yeah okay… That’s um… That’s cool… Right?” He says.

Hanji shrugs.

—

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what?

You go into labour of course, with a matter of fact- “oh. Look Levi. The water broke.” All while refusing to leave the house until you demolish that amazing sandwich he made for you. You go into labour and you yell and grunt like a beast as you squeeze the life out of your baby daddy because he kinda deserves it. You both kinda deserve this pain. Take it as heavenly punishment for being horny and stupid if you will.

And in the middle of it Hanji thinks huh, this feels like a mix of a reality TV show from MTV and a badly written fanfiction. Except Hanji isn’t a teen mom and she’s too old for self-insert fiction that involves a lead singer of a popular band.

But Levi is here, and he doesn’t complain one bit even though he looks like he’s about to pass out. So as far as drunken one night stands go- this is pretty damn aspirational.

The baby enters the world with a huge cry.

“Kid’s got a huge set of lungs…” Levi says, but his own voice is quivering.

“Just like her dad…” Hanji smiles.

As he watches Hanji fall asleep with their baby on her chest, Levi thinks fuck it. Fuck keeping this under wraps. Fuck the fans and them enjoying how Eren gets on his nerves. Fuck Erwin and his “Levi. You’re giving me a headache. You are the cause of this headache.” Because the baby has Hanji’s nose and his eyes and he loves them more than anything in the world.

He snaps a picture of them and tags bigdaddyzoë-

“Welcome to the world, my love.”

—

Reiner can’t help the tears that well in his eyes after seeing the picture Hanji had sent him of the baby-

“He says hi to his favourite uncle!” Was the caption, and Reiner could only reply with a crying cat meme and an incoherent text that Hanji favourites.

He’s on the bus on the way to the hospital when his phone buzzes incessantly. It’s Porco.

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK.”

“LEVI ACKERMAN IS HANJI ZOË’S BABY DADDY?”

“HANJI ZOË MY PHD SUPERVISOR?”

“LEVI ACKERMAN OF NO NAME?”

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK?”

He sends a reply at the entrance of the hospital-

“Welcome to my world”

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. He’s one of the moderator of one of the bigger No Name servers, so he can block and remove people at his discretion. Some days he lets it get to his head. It makes him feel like a king. But today, he’s putting out fires.

Erwin decided their PR strategy was absolutely no strategy, because “they’re zooming in on the pixels Levi. Once they doubt the pixels, they won’t believe anything we’re saying”. With that. Babygate has officially taken on a life of its own. Eren still sends Levi babygate articles to annoy him, and to Hanji because she asked very nicely. Hanji thinks Erwin’s strategy makes sense, Levi thinks it’s just lazy. But Erwin framed a certificate that says “survived a PR crisis (sort of)” that Hanji had insisted be hung up on their wall, so that closes one chapter. Besides, Eren has been spotted going out on dates with a mystery girl. Which has the double effect of diverting attention away from Levi and exacerbating babygate because “see? Told you the company’s doing all they can to prove they’re not together!”

“Can’t you keep it in your pants?” Levi had thrown at Eren, to which he had responded cleverly with a-

“Could’ve said the same for you!”

Touché…

“See? That can’t be Levi! Look at how he’s smiling!”

“That can’t be a baby! Looks like an animatronic to me!”

“Do they even make animatronics that realistic?”

Reiner pins his “no slander” rule- one day they’ll get it. Or at least he would’ve gotten rid of all the people that don’t.

“Who’s this bigdaddyzoë anyway?”

“Maybe she isn’t real? Company probably invented her…”

“Heard she’s a crazy groupie who got knocked up…”

“Heard she’s hot…”

… several people are typing

—

“So… I heard from Reiner you were defending my honour in the server?” Hanji quirks an eyebrow.

Levi shrugs. Whatever goes down in the server stays between Leviackerman173810 (leviackerman and all 173809 permutations of said username had already been taken) and the hundreds of people who haven’t quite figured out he’s the real deal. Besides, Erwin has issued him three warnings so it’s best to lay low for now.

“My hero…” Hanji chuckles, pressing a kiss on Levi’s head. Below them, baby Udo wriggles and yawns against the fabric of Levi’s shirt. Cute.

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what? You look at your son and know he’s going to break hearts like his father of course. And if you’re Levi, you pray to god he never asks about babygate because Hanji has read up enough about it to be considered a connoisseur.

One day the internet will break when they find out the identity of bigdaddyzöe. But for now baby Udo has his parents wrapped around his tiny fingers and he doesn’t quite understand the concept of him being the spawn of every typical band member x y/n fanfiction. Or the centre of a very popular, very absurd, yet strangely believable internet conspiracy theory. Or the canon plot that has sunk one of the biggest No Name ships. And that’s okay.

[ladycubes0t7]

Required Services

Pairing: Boss!Min Yoongi/Assistant!Fem Reader

Genre: Office/Smut/Boss/Assistant

Rating: Explicit/Mature/NSFW/No Minors

Summary: Are your services required or not? Find out what happens when being an overworked assistant gets you into trouble.

Word Count: 7.27k

Warnings: F/M, Office Sex, Oral (female receiving) , Protected Sex Hint of angst barely, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: This has been cross posted to AO3. Please feel free to comment, feedback is always welcome just try to keep it constructive.

Just one day. One day is all that you ask. One day for your boss to quit pushing all of his work on you. Sure, you get it. He has a lot on his plate. Meetings, interviews, business plans, market reviews, etc. You could go on and on about what he does or does not do.

Let's focus on the latter; that which he does not do. He does not build team morale. He does not care about how much that you do for this company. He sits in his office with that smug look upon his face everytime that you enter. Every hour on the hour, he is buzzing you into his office to assign more duties. Spread the wealth Mr. Boss Man. There are people in this office that are more than qualified to handle these tasks that he'd given you.

Yet, here you were, once again, standing in his office. He sat behind his large black desk, eyeing you with a smirk. He must get off on this. You huffed in clear annoyance while he continued on with his list of "chores". The job was really starting to get to you. Everything about that man, sitting in that high back leather chair, got to you. The way his blonde locks swept to the side and out of his eyes, the way his lips stayed drawn into that smirk, and even the way he breathed.

You furrowed your brow and gnawed at your bottom lip. Seemingly, you were lost in the way his long, slender fingers played with the band of his wristwatch. His fingers, oh how you longed for them to be pumping furiously in and out of you. Wrecking you, disciplining you for all the work that hadn't been completed.

What? Wait. Where did that come from? You flushed all over and tried to blink back your surprise. Mmmm, just look at him. All suited up. You despised the very man in front of you, so how in the hell did thoughts like those even cross your mind? Oh, right, you were overworked and had no time for dick appointments.

"Did you get all that?" Your boss spoke, breaking you out of your daze.

"What was that last part?" You quickly acted like you were taking notes and peeked at him in wait. Your eyes dragged over the entirety of his face and slowly worked their way down. His hands were working to unbutton the bottom of his suit jacket. I bet he really knows how to work a certain button. There it was again that lustful she demon voice in your head. Back away, you sinful beast, your mind pleaded with itself.

Obviously, annoyed, he reiterated, "I've got a formal business dinner to attend tonight and I need a date. You're coming with." There was no asking if you had plans and certainly no care about your opinion on the topic. That demanding tone in his voice had you aching and flustered.

"That'll be all for the moment," he waved you off dismissively. You took a second to look back down at your notes. Your facade set in a scowl as you pondered if you should attempt to decline. I really shouldn't. What if he wants a piece? I'm the perfect person to go to work on him. Those thoughts battled it out. Your inner lustfulness betrayed your sensible side.

"And do wear something….classy," he added, not even looking up.

You fought the need to roll your eyes and replied, "Yes, Mr. Min." I'll be back, the lust demon part of you sashayed to the corners of your fantastical mind and didn't return for the rest of the work day.

*******

You were standing outside the restaurant at precisely 8 o'clock. The strappy, black high heels did nothing to soothe your aching feet from having been at work all day. You held a matching clutch close to the bodice of your black evening dress. The hem of the skirt was a little shorter than you liked but it was just long enough to keep you from looking like a woman of the night. At this point, several minutes passed and you began to wonder would your boss even show up.

A sleek, gray sedan pulled up next to the sidewalk. Your boss exited. His blonde hair was slicked back to show a prominent undercut. He wore a dark gray three piece suit. It was perfectly tailored to his thin frame. That patented smirk of his adorned his lips when he took place beside you. Inwardly, you shrieked like a fangirl but remained your natural level of cantankerous for appearances sake.

"Fashionably late as always, Mr Min," you couldn't hide the disdain in your voice if you wanted to. He perked a brow at you, amused.

"Bitchy as always, Miss Moody. Are you always this standoffish to a date?" He retorted. Nothing ever appeared to get underneath his skin. Attitudes, kindness, hatefulness, everything rolled off of him.

Your boss held out his arm, "Let's not let your attitude kill the evening. Play nice," there was a hint of warning to his tone before he added, "and call me Yoongi for the night. I need you to play the part of date and not employee."

You looped your arm around his and he led you into the restaurant, his head held high. The maitre d didn't even bat an eye as the two of you strolled by. Mr. Min must come here often. You thought. It was hard to feel like you belonged here, let alone on the arm of Min Yoongi. The whole restaurant and its patrons screamed expensive. Hell, your boss probably owns it, even though you've never seen it listed in his accounts.

After having walked through the majority of the restaurant. You reached a set of double doors. Two waiters opened the doors to usher you and your boss through to a separate dining area. This area was more decadent than the last. Lush, violet and gold drapes adorned the walls. There was a rather large, round dining table set up in the center of the room. Seating and place settings for 14.

The other guests went silent. Talk about an awkward entrance. The six men looked shocked as they looked between your boss and you. Has Mr. Min never brought a plus one? The ladies, accompanying the other men, all gawked at you. All it took was a glare shot in their direction by your boss for the ladies to return to light conversation amongst themselves.

"Yoongi-ssi, this is a first. Who is your lovely date?" The man who sat next to an empty seat spoke. He was bespectacled and handsome with chestnut hued hair cut in a mid-fade. He had a dimpled smile crossing his face that could easily have you eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Ah, this is my girlfriend. You can call her Miss Moody for now, Namjoon," your boss answered, moving to take the empty seat next to him. You must have looked like a deer caught in headlights because Mr. Min tugged your hand to pull you in a seat next to him.

Girlfriend? Now I have to act like a girlfriend? He better give me a raise for this. You were trapped in your thoughts and barely even registered your boss's arm slipping around your waist. You almost flinched but caught yourself. You tried your best to act as normal as possible.It couldn't be so bad.

There were no other introductions made past the point of meeting Namjoon. The waiters began to bring out the first course. Luckily, you didn't have to fawn all over your boss, even though your desire demon was begging to take over. He was perfectly content with you sitting silent while the table enjoyed the first course. Yoongi was even overjoyed when you giggled over his cheesy business jokes while waiting for the second course to be served.

He was looking at you now, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't quite decipher. Your stomach did a little flip when he took your hand and gave it a small squeeze. The gesture was returned with a soft smile that made him grin. To the outward eye, you two appeared to be lost in one another but, internally, you were struggling. It was like this glimpse into Yoongi's softer side was pulling off a mask that he wore to work. You began to find yourself enjoying his company and that was what scared you but thrilled you at the same time. Maybe your boss would be the one to satiate the hunger growing within you.

The rest of dinner went off without a hitch until dessert rolled around. The conversation between the men turned to business. You did your best to ignore the conversation but the numbers game was off. Everything that Namjoon brought up didn't match up with all the paperwork that you gave your boss earlier at work. Your eye even twitched at the low ball offer being discussed.

Yoongi laughed it off with a wave of his hand. "Namjoon, after all these years, you mock me with an offer like this? Come on man. You and I both know it isn't worth it."

Namjoon wiped his mouth with one of the cloth napkins and nodded, "Yeah, I know, but the boss won't let me go any higher. I knew the figure was laughable."

"Your boss sounds like a miser. My company will more than triple his profits. My fees are non-negotiable," Yoongi sat back and draped his arm around the back of your chair. His fingers absentmindedly rubbing circles on your bare shoulder. Goosebumps erupted across your visible flesh. He was obviously doing this as a distraction.

"Oh, come on. Do me a solid on this Yoongi-ssi. I really need this deal to go through. The boss plans on making me partner," Namjoon implored.

"If I do, you have to promise me something in return," Yoongi stared off in contemplation. His fingertips continued to lightly play at your shoulder. The sensation put you on edge. You needed to refocus.

You played with the rim of your wine glass. It was getting harder by the moment to stay silent. One of your legs, restless now, began to bounce. Yoongi put a hand on your thigh under the table. The touch stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes met his, which gave you a warning look. They were pleading with you to mind your own business. That was just it though. It was your business. You worked so hard to have all the paperwork in order for the negotiation that was being brought up at dinner. You expected this to happen at the conference on Monday but here you were, playing Yoongi's girlfriend and not his employee. It was killing you. You shot him a glare and opened your mouth, about to add in your two cents.

"Miss Moody, you're looking a bit flushed, perhaps you should head to the ladies room to freshen up?" Your boss offered but you could tell that it was more of a demand. Your eye twitched with how hard you tried to keep composure at the hatred you had for the nickname he'd given you. He stood to help pull out your chair and offered his hand. You took it, flashing a smile that never reached your eyes.

"Yes, I really should go powder my nose," you tried to hide the scoff but several of the men at the table heard you and let it be known as you walked off.

"You sure have a feisty one on your hands there, Yoongi-ssi," You heard from behind you. Oh, you haven't seen feisty.

Upon reaching the restroom, you debated whether you should just leave. Did Mr. Min realise how hard it would be for you to not say a word about the business end of the deal? He really did just bring you to keep the focus away from his personal life so that the business dinner could be just that, business.

There's still that chance, he could be setting me up to drop them panties. You rolled your eyes after taking in your reflection. Yeah, fat chance. I am but a means to an end.

Huffing in annoyance, you straightened your dress then washed your hands and tried to make sense of it all. Logically speaking, you knew he sent you off so that he could hide that you were an employee. Not just any employee, but the employee. You were the one who put the whole agreement together. Thoughts speeding through your mind did nothing to help quell the anger that slowly began to rise.

Get it together. You're just the date. You tried to reason with yourself, which spoke volumes to your logical side.

"Alright, let's get back to it," you checked yourself in the mirror and headed back to the dining area.

Many of the patrons took no notice as you came through once more. The double doors opened and you made your way back to the table. The business conversation carried on while you were away, but appeared to have been dealt with because Yoongi and Namjoon were standing and shaking hands.         "Pleasure doing business with you Yoongi-ssi. My boss will be pleased to hear that you settled," the younger man smiled, dimples turned up on max.

"Great, have your assistant send my assistant the new documents for me to sign, and we will get it right back to you," your boss grinned for a millisecond before realizing you were back from the ladies room.

You stood there, arms crossed and jaw clenched. That snake. First, he used you as arm candy, and then sent you away to not hear how the deal that you pieced together went down. This is it, you thought, this is where the other shoe falls.

"I most certainly will not," you said, icily. The room went silent. All eyes were on you.

"Excuse me?" Namjoon looked at you, quizzically.

Your boss, however, glared at you. The palpable tension grew between the two of you. You wouldn't back down this time. Out of all the times that you were expected to shut up and do your job, this time was not it. This time, you were not on the clock and most definitely not being paid.

Your blood pressuring was rising and your cheeks tinted red. "You see, Mr. Min, you will not be accepting the offer. Not yet, at least." You stepped closer, letting one hand rest on your hip and the other point right at him. "You will wait until I've gone over every word of the new contract before it is accepted. How dare you!?" You were getting louder now and Yoongi flinched when you began to poke at his chest. "You knew how hard I worked on that deal?! It's like you just spat on my face! The audacity!" You threw your hands up, exasperated.

Your boss's surprise turned into a smug look. "You can't have everything your way, Miss Moody. It is my business after all."

A sardonic laugh left your lips, "Oh, indeed it is Mr. Min. All decisions are your own, unless you want to run your business into the dirt. I suggest you take my advice. Leave the numbers game to your assistant." The venom you spat was from years of being overburdened at the office and from the amount of lifeblood that you poured into it.

There was something else there, nagging you in the back of your mind. I can think of some numbers that I can handle. Inches that is. Your logical brain did it's best to shove the thought back into the deepest recesses of your mind. Put that inside a box and put that box into another box. Hide it away because in the moment, you needed to remind your boss that you were one of his hardest working employees. However, the lust demon refused to not be heard. Oh dear God look at those lips, still holding that smugness! The way I'd kiss those lips until they were swollen with the memory of me. It wasn't the time for you to be fantasizing about your boss in that manner. You were mad not hot and horny. Straighten those thoughts out.

The other men at the table couldn't stop looking at the exchange. They were taken aback. Yoongi just stood there, hoping that you were finished, and the women of the group whispered words of scandal amongst each other.

Your boss eyed you in silence for much longer than it seemed. "You know, now that I think about it," Yoongi scratched at his chin as if in thought, "your services are no longer required."

Now, it was your turn to be surprised. Eyes wide with shock and hands shaking, you could only stare at your boss. You tightened your lips and inhaled sharply through your nose. "What?!" Did you hear him correctly?

"You can move your belongings on Monday," Yoongi eyed you one last time before sitting down with a bored expression. There it was, the boss that you knew. The one who let everything wash away from him like he had no cares in the world.

"Yoongi…." The gravity of the situation was becoming too real. He really was going to fire you, just like that? He never looked up. That was it. The conversation was over. No time for rebuttal. Namjoon gave you a sad smile, but the others avoided your eyes. A frown marred your lips. You took up your clutch and held it close while you searched for your phone to order an Uber.

"Goodbye, Mr. Min," you said softly. Everything culminated to this, one of the lowest points of your life. You've never lost it before on your boss. You were utterly embarrassed. Nothing you could say now could change anything.

Outside of the restaurant brought a different kind of cold treatment. The artificial light did nothing to bring up your spirit. Traffic whizzed by and life still carried on like nothing happened. You checked the Uber app to see where your driver was. They were still a good fifteen minutes out. That meant fifteen more minutes of holding it together, to think about how much of a bitch you were, and finally just how good Yoongi looked while firing you.

Wait...he fired me. I shouldn't be thinking about how hot it was with that damn smirk of his. Mmm, but yet somewhere deep in that animalistic brain of your's, you knew that you were just as much turned on as you were angry. In that moment, you hated yourself for the arousal that snuck up on you. You tried to reason with yourself that it was just because things got so heated and you had to face it. Your now former boss was so utterly attractive.

The power he held and money he had played no part in the attraction you felt. It was purely a need to fuck that arrogant smirk off his face. Well, that or punish you like the brat that you were. You long since found yourself loving to be choked up by the work that he loaded you down with and that in itself was punishment.

You were secretly in lust with the thought of him and it caused you frustration on the daily. And even though your driver arrived and began its trek to your quaint apartment, the source of your irritation still clouded your mind. Maybe once you reached home you could just masturbate it out of you and call it a night. Only then would you be able to sleep and worry about finding a new job in the days that followed.

*******

The day you dreaded finally made its arrival. The morning matched your mood. Cold, dark, and rainy. You had a short to-do list for the day: pick up belongings from the office, cash your final paycheck, and drown yourself in cheap wine to wash away the hatred for your boss and your actions.

You dragging yourself out of bed proved not such an easy feat as you had gone on a weekend binder. You washed your face and eyed yourself in your tiny bathroom mirror. You made a poor attempt at applying some makeup to cover the dark circles under your eyes.

How you wished that you could just go in your sweatshirt and yoga pants but alas, you wanted to maintain some decorum. You threw on a black pair of dress slacks with a white billowy blouse. The final touch was to pull your hair back in a loose bun. You sneered in disgust at your image before heading out.

As you stood in front of the tall, dark office building that housed Min Industries, you couldn't help but to be thankful that the lustful thoughts disappeared along with your job. You were so wrapped up in being grateful for that, that you didn't notice the building was quiet all the way up to the top floor. You only noticed once the elevator doors parted and there stood Min Yoongi.

There were no sounds of your coworkers clacking away on keyboards, no phones ringing, and absolutely no one running back and forth between the cubicles. There was only Min Yoongi. He was silent with that same smug smirk.

"I was wondering when you would finally grace me with your presence," he said when you stepped off of the elevator. "We have so much work to complete today with the new deal and whatnot."

This was a trap. You just knew it. You were not going to fall into his games this time. "I'm here for my things," you simply stated as you started to move passed him. The key word being started. With one quick movement, he stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. His grip wasn't so tight that you couldn't get away but just enough to get you to look at him.

And that you did and that was the beginning of your real downfall.

"I'm really not going to let my best assistant leave that easily," his voice was calm but his eyes not so much. They held a fire in them that had you questioning yourself.

"I thought you were the one who fired me. Seems to me that means you decided to let me go that easily," the reply rolled off your tongue, coolly. "Besides, you have employees that can handle my job duties. I'm just going to grab my things and see myself out."

Yoongi let go of your hand. "I didn't quite say that."

Surprisingly, you felt a sad pang in your heart at the lack of contact. Your eyes held his and you were even more shocked to see another emotion swirling in his eyes. Was that sadness? Regret? Whatever emotion it was played upon his lips as well because suddenly they were in a frown. Was the normally emotionless boss finally slapped in the face with the reality of firing his best assistant? He walked off to his office in silence.

You exhaled sharply, not realizing you had been holding it. While heading to your desk just outside of Yoongi's office door, you grabbed an empty box that once held reams of paper. The empty office felt as empty as your thoughts while you began to pack away your personal belongings.

Halfway done, you plopped into the swirly chair and ran your hands across your face to massage at your temples. The past several years of memories started to play out in your mind. There were plenty of good memories surrounding your coworkers and even those including your boss. It had only been the past year that his attitude, or lack of, that he started showing less emotion. You began to wonder why.

As if he had read your thoughts, Yoongi made himself known by clearing his throat. He leaned against the door frame, hands in the pockets of his suit pants. There was a fond look on his face.

"You know, I remember the day I hired you," he said while pushing off the frame of the door. Slowly, he made his way to stand beside your seat. "It was five years ago. I, myself, was just as new as you were at the time. My father insisted that my first move as boss was to hire my own assistant. One that could easily learn my needs and wants. One that was dedicated and eager. Someone that was trustworthy."

You perked up, tilting your head to the side. You swiveled around in your chair and looked up at him. You nodded for him to continue. He was silent for a moment.

"I found that in you. You had all of the qualities and then some. Throughout the years, I've watched you flourish in this position. You've handled things that assistants shouldn't do. You've kept your nose clean, and most certainly have kept my company exceeding everyone's expectations," Yoongi fiddled with his fingers, nervousness started to show.

"Well, if that's the case why…." He held up a hand to cut you off. A brow perked while trying to gauge what Yoongi was up to. Your she demon side was threatening to escape the box that you so neatly put her in.

"Let me explain," he dropped to his knees in front of you. "There's a reason why, in this last year, you've seen a change in me and your job responsibilities." He was careful with his words and even more careful in the way that he put his hands atop both of your knees. It was torture. The warmth of his hands caused an eruption of tingles to spread throughout your body.

"Overtime, I felt something pulling me to you. I can't explain it. I started to look at you differently. Suddenly, your every movement caught my eye. The smell of your perfume fogged my senses. Everything about you was taking over me."

You exhaled a shaky breath. Yoongi's eyes were trained on yours. You held contact though the heat began to rise and tint your cheeks. A soft smile crept on his lips. "I've had my eye on you for a while and the frustration of not being able to have what I want made me disregard you and your feelings. I should have explained it to you before dinner on Friday night. I didn't mean that you were full on fired. I meant to make you partner that evening. In fact…" he trailed off while he traced his fingers up your thighs, "I meant to make you partner in more ways than one. The things we will do will be so…." He spoke but you were not aware as his voice drifted in and out of your hearing.

Partner? More ways than one? The lustful thought went into overdrive. As his words sank in, realization did too. You didn't hate your boss. It was quite the opposite. You were wildly attracted to him. And people always said that there was a fine line between love and hate.

You couldn't hear the rest of what Yoongi was saying when he continued on. He was still lightly tracing up and down your thighs and it put you into some kind of trance. Your mind was too busy trying to make sense of everything to register the touch. It was a lot to process. Partner and partner? Some of those deep-seeded fantasies started to blossom.

".....and if you're uncomfortable we can always stop." He finished and was gazing at you quietly. The lack of his voice pulled you out of a hypnotic state.

You blinked and both of your brows were raised. You smiled a sheepish smile. "I'm not sure, Yoongi. I may need some more persuasion."

"Persuasion, you say?" The gleam in his eyes spoke a thousand words that the smirk upon his lips did not utter. He rose and pulled you with him. His arm slid to the small of your back to press you against him. The other hand clutched the back of your neck. Naturally, you tilted your head back, eager to meet his lips.

Yoongi descended on them like a man starved. His tongue swept your bottom lip, enthusiastically seeking entrance. Allowing him such access deepened it and allowed a soft moan to escape. The office melted away along with any of your worries. Yoongi's lips made sure of it.

You broke away, both of you gasping and eyes locked on one another. Nothing else mattered in that moment besides the two of you. He admired your lips, swollen and pink from his kiss. He decided that he didn't like your hair pinned back. Yoongi took hold of the pins holding your hair and removed them. Your hair fell in soft curls around your shoulders as he watched in awe.

Yoongi took your hand. He zoomed you to the confines of his office and kicked his door shut with his foot. You helped slide his suit jacket off and were working on the buttons to his shirt with shaking hands. From nerves or excitement, who knew? Flinging open his shirt, you ran your hands down his chest over the undershirt. Why did he have to wear so many layers? You thought when your fingers met the cool metal buckle of his belt. You released the belt and made quick work of the fly of his pants.

When his pants pooled around his ankles, an audible gasp left you at the sight of his hard member straining against the fabric of his boxers. Yoongi pulled off his undershirt while you dropped to your knees in front of him. Your mouth watered at the delicious view in front of you. Pale skin, clear of any blemishes or scars gave onslaught to your eyes, and you couldn't contain the moan if you wanted to. He was even better unclothed, save for the boxers. You palmed at Yoongi's thighs as you ran them from his knees up to band of his underwear.

You only looked up when his hand stopped your's. The other took you by your chin, angling you to get a better look at your face. He thought you looked glorious, like an angel looking up at him with hooded eyes. The want and hunger ever apparent with your lips parted in a pant.

"Not, now baby, this is about making you partner. I intend to vet you fully," Yoongi gave you a half smirk. He encircled your wrist and yanked you upward. In one quick motion, your back slammed against his office door. Breath knocked out of your lungs only for Yoongi to breathe his own back into you. His mouth made claim against your's once more. It was like he was drinking you up. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth while running his hands the along the length of your torso. He couldn't get enough.

Yoongi was so painfully hard but he intended to take his time. Enjoy you to the fullest as he had fantasized about this day for so long. He gave the entire company a paid day off for this moment and it already paid itself off tenfold. Much slower to your liking, he removed each article of clothing of your's while kissing down your neck. He stopped every so often, sucking, causing purple and red marks to bloom across your skin. He kissed, licked, and nibbled along the swells of your breasts that peeked from the cups of your bra.

Removal of said item was much quicker. Yoongi just had to get his hands and lips all over your breasts. You dropped your head back against the door when his tongue darted out and swiped over one of your nipples. His free hand slipped inside the top of your dress slacks, he wasn't concerned that they were still on.

Yoongi was more worried about feeling the arousal pooling in your panties. He wasn't able to get a good angle, so he settled on using the heel of his hand to press against your clothed mound. His middle finger rubbed back and forth over the cloth covering your slit. The pressure had you swimming and moaning. You ran your fingers through Yoongi's hair as he continued his movements. His lips were latched so perfect on your nipple. He suckled harder for a moment and nipped it before lavishing his attention on the other. The soft moans and sighs coming from your lips spurred him on.

He detached to return to your mouth, the kiss near animalistic. His need only grew as he rolled himself into you, seeking relief, while he tore the fly open to your dress pants. He pulled your ruined panties and pants down in one fell swoop.

Bare before him and trapped safely in his arms, he lifted you up, never once breaking the kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He walked the two of you to his desk where he perched your ass on top of the edge. You reached on either side pushing off what you could reach.

Yoongi's fingers curled around your neck to push you down across the shorter end of his desk. As you laid back, his hand travelled the length of you and rested splayed across your lower abdomen. "Fuck, you're absolutely beautiful," he praised, taking in your features. Your chest was heaving with every breath.

You let your legs fall open and everything was on display for Yoongi's eyes. His eyes landed on your naked pussy, pink and dripping with want. "Take it, Yoongi. Whatever you want, it's yours."

That's all it took for him, he was on his knees in front of you and the desk, which happened to have your wet cunt in a perfect position. There was no embarrassment about being totally naked before him. In fact, you were a little grumpy because he was taking too long to touch you. "NOW, YOONGI!" You yelled out in frustration.

Yoongi bit down on your inner thigh, earning a surprised 'eep' from you. "Patience, or else Ms. Moody will be your name again," he chuckled in between the small kisses that trailed closer to the apex of your thighs. He continued around kissing the top of your mound, anywhere but right where you wanted. No, where you needed.

You felt him smirk against you, literally smirk when he darted his tongue out just above the hood of your clit. The annoyed whine that followed was proof of his further teasing. "I'll show you Ms. Moody." You trapped his head between your thighs and grabbed tight at the hair on the back of his head.

Yoongi revelled in the action and grabbed ahold of your ass cheeks. Long fingers dug in before slapping at the sides of your cheeks. He brought his hands around underneath where your thighs met your buttocks and pushed them up and apart. His incoming onslaught onto your clit had you keening. He attacked with fervor. An obscene, muffled moan from him shot through your core when he lapped at the arousal pooled inside your entrance. You would have thought you were his final meal at the slurping sound that echoed throughout his office.

"Fuuuuuhhhhck, Yoongi, right there," you groaned as he continued to work you over. He alternated between harsh, flat licks and fast, short pointed tongue licks against and around your clit. Yoongi's right hand joined the fray. There was no preamble to its entrance as he used the gathering saliva and arousal as lubrication and dipped one finger in. It was quickly followed by a second that scissored in and out of your wet cunt. He spent time working you open as he heard your moans increase in length and volume. Your pelvis ground into his mouth and fingers while you were being driven closer to the edge. That ledge was screaming for you to fall off. Yoongi's two fingers turned and curled beckoning your pleasure hither.

Your mind and body jumped off the edge with his name shouting from your lips. Back arching off the desk and hips pressing down, your orgasm ripped through you. Yoongi licked up every bit of your release and savored your taste.

You laid there, in the afterglow, thighs still trembling. The loss of Yoongi's fingers and mouth made you whine pathetically. His warmth returned just as quickly as it had left. He stood between your legs. The magnificent sight before you renewed the lust in your core. Yoongi had removed his boxers and was stroking his length at the sight of your already fucked out face.

You wanted to watch him for days. The way he sucked in his bottom lip and bit at it, and the way the head of his cock was engorged, red, angry, and glistening with pre-cum were both being filed away to memory.

"I'm not finished with you yet," were the promising words that he groaned out, lust heavily lace in his timbre. It was not a threat but a vow to utterly wreck your core. The crinkle of the condom wrapper was unmistakable. Yoongi hissed at the feel of rolling the rubber down his painfully hardened cock. Your eyes pleading with him as he stepped closer. One hand was at the base of his shaft and the other slid down to the back of your knee.

Yoongi's jaw clenched when the tip of his cock dipped into your entrance that clenched at the feeling of the protrusion. "Fuck, baby, I thought you were ready for me," he said, while slipping in another inch. The sound of his voice almost made you cum alone. Shit, he was going to be the death of you. You angled your hips up, allowing him to slide in further

"Please, Yoongi, just fuck me already. Need your cock!" You begged, sounding like a slut just hungry for a good dicking down. He bit his lip again and in one full thrust forward, Yoongi was buried to the hilt. Your walls clenched around him. He nearly rejoiced as if it were homecoming.

Slowly, he drew back and snapped his hips into yours. His hands gripped at either side of your hips, holding you in place. You were likely to have bruising but you'd wear them like a badge of honor.

Yoongi's pelvic bone flush against your clit. "Not only am I gaining a partner but also a cockwarmer. You'd like that, huh?" The confidence in his words had you aching for more. How you begged for him to move, or do anything as you became drunk on his cock.

Yoongi looked down at where you were joined. The sinful vision of your pussy stretched around his thick length. He moaned at such a sight. "Mmmm, baby this pussy was made for me. Heaven sent." He drawled out right as he began a steady pace of thrusting in and out of your sodden cunt. You bent your knees to pull your legs back a little further but this made Yoongi grab your ankles and push your legs together.

He angled your legs to the side and thrust deeply. The new position allowed him to directly batter your g-spot. You moaned out a broken version of his name. Each stroke hit so deep and hard.

Yoongi kept fucking into you with abandon. It was hard to tell when one moan stopped and another one began. God, how he loved to watch your breasts bounce with each thrust. The quick drag of his cock in and out of your pussy was threatening his release but he held on wanting to pull another orgasm from you. He pulled both of your legs up, putting an ankle on either side of his head and held on for dear life. With each pulse of your pussy, around his length, you tightened more and more. The urge to cum was strong in the two of you but neither wanted it to end. Your moans were intermingled in between breaths.

Yoongi dropped your legs to his hips when the need to cum became overpowering. He leaned across your torso, kissing you vigorously, while each thrust pushed you across the desk. Your hands flew to his back in this position and you scraped them in a downward motion. You wrapped your legs around him and arched your back.

"Fuhhhhhck, Yoongi!" You cried out as a powerful snap of his hips combined with him sucking at the pulse of your neck wrecked you. Your whole body wracked with your orgasm that washed over you. Delirious from hearing your pleasure and the feel of your cunt squeezing his cock in time, Yoongi blew his own load. His hips stuttered against yours but one final thrust landed directly onto your g-spot and he stilled.

You secretly wished his cum was painting your walls but the condom held his seed safely from your womb. He stayed like that a moment, resting his forehead against your's. Your panting breaths being the only sound in the office except for the quiet ticking of the clock.

Yoongi stood up, sliding out of your wrecked core. He disposed of the condom and turned back towards you to help you sit up. "Damn, Yoongi, is that how you initiate all your partners?" You quipped with a silly grin.

"Mmmm, not just any partner. Only the ones who put in the work," he answered with a wink. His demeanor was notably different. His lips had a gummy smile plastered to them. One you hadn't seen in ages. He tossed you your under garments before putting on his own. "Normally, I'd help you clean up but as you can tell, I don't normally have visitors in my office." Yoongi was a little embarrased now. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. It was cute how his cheeks had a twinge of pink across them.

"It's fine. I plan on heading home and taking a nice, relaxing shower. Work was strenuous today," you said while getting dressed. Your slacks were no longer able to be secured. You looked at Yoongi sheepishly, "Can I borrow your belt until tomorrow? I'm afraid I won't make it out of here with my pants up."

"Sure thing," he said, "Let me lend you a hand." Yoongi got his belt and slid it through each of the belt loops. The closeness was still so intoxicating. You began to wonder if you would make it home at all. After buckling the belt for you he asked, "Anything else I can do for you?"

A sly grin crossed your lips and your eyes lit up, "You know, now that I think about it…." You scratched at your chin in jest, "your services are no longer required."

Yoongi held up a hand to his heart in mock shock, "That's a low blow. I am hurt….hurt I tell you." He returned your playful banter.

"Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow, partner," you said heading to the door and opened it. Yoongi was behind you, only dressed in his boxers and undershirt.

On the other side of the door stood Namjoon and the five other men that had been at dinner on Friday evening. They all were drained of any color in shock at the state of Yoongi's undress and your messy hair and hickies on your neck.

"Fuck, I forgot the negotiation conference was today."

The End

[raeynbowboi]

Disney Villains in DnD

With the Disney Princesses and Princes, I put them into parties, but for the villains, I’m going to start by listing the ones powerful enough to be a Warlock Patron in descending order of power (by their base form). The rest are ordered by the release date of their film. I’m not going to cover all of the Disney villains in this one post, as there’s just too many, and not all of them map easily onto DnD.

CHERNABOG THE DARK MASTER

AS BIG BAD: Archfield Patron Warlock (Asmodeus)

As Playable Character:

Race: Asmodeus Tiefling Background: Courtier Class: Divine Soul Sorcerer (Evil) Skills: Insight, Deception, Intimidation, Persuasion

The Devil on Bald Mountain, Chernabog stands as Satan and Lucifer incarnate, the Disney-Canon equivalent to the Prince of Darkness, and the ruler of Hell. Like with Maleficent and Hades, Chernabog lacks a stat block, being a Greater Deity, and King of the Archfiends, Ruler of the Nine Hells. As a playable character, Chernabog doesn’t lend out his hellish powers or get them from an outside source. Instead he is a Tiefling with the infernal bloodline of Asmodeus (Lawful Evil) running through his veins. When he was an angel, Lucifer would have been a courtier, standing in the shining Court of Heaven before he was banished to Hell. His skills make him adept at lying to and manipulating people, as Insight lets him learn a person’s desires, and then use lies and honeyed words to lead them astray in his service. Consider this a free “how to play as satan” build.

MALEFICENT THE WICKED FAIRY

As Big Bad: The Raven Queen

As Playable Character:

Race: Hexblood Background: Noble (History, Persuasion Intimidation) Class: Wildfire Druid Skills: Arcana, History, Intimidation, Perception

Lore-wise, Maleficent uses “All the Powers of Hell”, but in terms of Dungeons and Dragons, the Wildfire Druid gives Maleficent the best parallels to her powers, as she’s able to grow a wall of thorns, call a bolt of lightning, Polymorph into a fire-breathing dragon, and spread fire. It also works lore-wise as the Wildfire Druid destroys the very forest they swore to protect. As a Hexblood, Maleficent becomes a fey hag, able to curse princesses and disguise herself as a racial ability. As the Big Bad, Maleficent maps perfectly onto the Raven Queen, ruling over the shadowfell, summoning the Heartless to do her biding, and loaning Diablo to those who worship or swear fealty to the Raven Queen.

HADES GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD

As Big Bad: Hades/Death God

As Playable Character:

Race: Mephistopheles Tiefling/Reborn Background: Charlatan Class: Death Cleric Skills: Deception, Insight, Persuasion, Sleight of Hand

For Hades, the God of the Dead, making him into a Cleric was a no-brainer. But Clerics have very limited options for fire magic. Sacred flame and Flame Strike both deal radiant damage, and their only other fire spell is Searing Smite which they got in the spell list expansion. But as a Mephistopheles Tiefling, Hades can also gain temporary access to Burning Hands and Flame Blade, along with Mage Hand. Mephistopheles is also the demon best known for making a deal with Faust, a trait shared by the deal-making Hades. If you’re not feeling the fire theme, or your DM doesn’t like the tiefling subraces, Hades can also work as a Reborn.

THE HORNED KING MASTER OF THE CAULDRON BORN

As Big Bad: Undead/Undying Warlock Patron (Lich)

As Playable Character:

Race: Reborn Background: Noble (History, Persuasion Intimidation) Class: Necromancy Wizard Skills: Arcana, History, Intimidation, Investigation

Ironically, there is a new magic item that maps perfectly onto the Black Cauldron, the Cauldron of Rebirth. But oddly, it can only be attuned by a Druid or Warlock, and the Necromancy Wizard creates the strongest undead thralls, as he adds his Proficiency Bonus to their attack and damage rolls. But if you’d rather have the Horned King be able to use the Cauldron of Rebirth, then make him a Spores Druid. If you absolutely must go warlock, make him an Undead Warlock. As a Warlock Patron, he would be a Lich. In the Chronicles of Prydain books, he served Arawn, God of Death. But the Horned King serves no such master in the Disney film.

JAFAR THE GRAND VIZIER

As Big Bad: Genie Warlock Patron (Efreeti)

Race: Human/Fire Genasi Background: Courtier (Insight, Persuasion) Class: Genie Warlock (Djinni)/Wild Magic Sorcerer Skills: Arcana, Deception, Insight, Persuasion

Jafar is the only one of the patron villains who themselves is a warlock to another patron. In his human form, Jafar has little to no powers. Everything Jafar is able to do is through either his magic snake staff or Genie’s magic. It’s only once he becomes a genie himself that Jafar has his own powers. So, Jafar here is split between two builds. As a human, he’s a warlock relying on a djinni. As a genie himself, he’s a wild magic sorcerer. Technically, he could be both. Play Jafar however you want. As a big bad, Jafar is stuck as one of the most subserviant types of warlock patron, which isn’t so surprising why he’s this low on the patron scale. Only Ursula is technically weaker than him, but that’s only true when she’s in her base form. Once she wields the trident, Ursula is even more powerful than The Horned King.

URSULA THE SEA WITCH

As Big Bad: Fathomless Warlock Patron (Sea Hag/Kraken)

As Playable Character:

Race: Triton Background: Courtier (Insight, Persuasion) Class: Glamour Bard Skills: Arcana, Deception, Insight, Performance, Persuasion Items: Circlet of Human Perfection (reskin as seashell necklace)

I built Ariel as a Fathomless Warlock because in order for her to be on land, she had to make a deal with Ursula. So, with Ursula on land, she can masquerade as Vanessa, using Ariel’s voice to charm and manipulate people. We even see Ursula do this when she charms Eric, so we know that as Vanessa, Ursula could easily run a successful criminal empire using Ariel’s voice to hypnotize and manipulate people into obeying her orders. The Circlet of Human Perfection allows Ursula to maintain a perfect beautiful human disguise without having to eat up spell slots. As a Fathomless Patron, Ursula in her base form is a simple Sea Hag, being much weaker. But once she gets a hold of Dekella, the Bident of Thassa from King Triton, she can grow in both size and power to rival the might of a Kraken. And with Thassa’s divine bident, Ursula can command the tides and all the beasts and monstrosities within it, puting her nearly on par with the powers of a goddess of the sea. But unlike Hades, Maleficent, and Chernabog, even at her near godlike power, Ursula still has a stat block, her bident can still be taken from her, and she can still be slain and defeated.

QUEEN GRIMHILDE THE EVIL QUEEN

Race: Human Background: Noble (History, Persuasion Intimidation) Class: Alchemist Artificer Skills: Arcana, History, Intimidation, Investigation

I really did consider the Transmutation Wizard for Grimhilde, as it has the power to cast polymorph for all of your Frog Prince needs, and a master transmuter can even Restore Youth. But then, the alchemist can brew a potion of transformation, and the chemistry set is clearly how we see Grimhilde using magic. The only magic she performs without the chemistry set is when she creates a gust of wind in front of her magic mirror. She doesn’t even create the lightning bolt for her transformation spell, it just happens to be storming outside, so she’s not controlling the weather either. Plus, the most powerful spell she has is the poisoned apple and she has to summon a bolt of lightning to cast Alter Self, a 2nd level spell. By DnD standards, Grimhilde’s not really that powerful. She doesn’t even fight the player herself in Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep.  If you want Grimhilde to be more magical, then go with Transmutation Wizard, but if you want to be more accurate, the Alchemist is how Grimhilde does her magic. Yzma from The Emperor’s New Groove shares a nearly identical build.

CAPTAIN HOOK THE GENTLEMAN THIEF

Race: Human Background: Pirate (Athletics, Perception) Class: Swashbuckler Rogue Skills: Athletics, Deception, Insight, Intimidation, Perception, Persuasion

While Hook’s still a putrid coward, he holds himself quite well, and is the epitome of Lawful Evil, maintaining a strict personal moral code to clash with Peter’s frankly Chaotic Neutral “heroism”. Hook’s not really good at the normal rogue skills like hiding or thieving, but he shines as a manipulative double-talking liar. Long John Silver from Treasure Planet has a similar build.

GASTON LEGUME THE HANSOME HUNTER

Race: Human Background: Folk Hero (Animal Handling Persuasion, Survival) Class: Monster Slayer Ranger Skills: Athletics, Perception, Persuasion Stealth, Survival

As the strapping hero of Belle’s Village, Gaston has the favor of his entire community, keeping them safe from any and all beasties that lurk beyond the city. Too bad he’s as rotten as they come. Likely one of the weakest villains in terms of pure power scale as little more than a local hero, he’s still an iconic enough villain I couldn’t resist adding him. Clayton from Tarzan shares a similar build.

SCAR THE USURPER OF PRIDE ROCK

Race: Leonin Background: Noble (History, Persuasion) Class: Oath of Treachery Paladin Fighting Style: Unarmed Skills: History, Insight, Intimidation, Persuasion

Simba was a druid because he was a wise king who could call upon his people to stand beside him. Scar is a paladin because he has devoted himself to a single goal: his own personal power. Scar shows little wisdom, but has a strong character and savvy charms about him that make him better suited as a CHA caster.

JUDGE CLAUDE FROLLO THE JUDGE OF PARIS

Race: Human Background: Investigator Class: Light Cleric Skills: Insight, Investigation, Persuasion, Religion

This was an easy villain to build. As a religious man worshipping God (who would def fall under Life, Light, and maybe Knowledge) Frollo would go for the one that lets him keep witches warm. His background was chosen as an investigator because he’s responsible for keeping the peace in Paris, and there wasn’t a background option for lawmaker. Noble or Courtier might have worked, but didn’t seem quite like the right fit as they deal more with aristocratic authority and royal court politics.

RIKU THE HEARTLESS KEYBLADE MASTER

Race: Human Background: Soldier (Athletics, Intimidation) Class: Raven Queen Warlock/Hexblade Warlock, Shadow Sorcerer Pact Boon: Blade Skills: Arcana, Athletics, Deception, Intimidation

In the first Kingdom Hearts game, Riku spends most of the game being manipulated by Maleficent. His DnD counterpart would surely be a warlock to her. But Maleficent oddly has not one but three possible warlock patron options. As the Raven Queen, she obviously has the Raven Queen Warlock, but the Raven Queen also created the Hexblade, which come from the Shadowfell, which she rules over. The third is unique to Maleficent, as she is a fairy, and a powerful one at that. Making her a valid choice for an Archfey Warlock. Archfey doesn’t quite fit Riku, but the other two do, and as a Sorcerer, Riku draws power from the Shadowfell which his patron rules over.

DR. FACILIER THE SHADOW MAN

Race: Human Background: Charlatan (Deception, Sleight of Hand) Class: Fiend Warlock Skills: Arcana, Deception, Persuasion, Sleight of Hand

It’s kind of hard to deny that Dr. Facilier is obviously a warlock, though his patron options don’t really come close to a neat fit. Among his choices though, fiend comes the closest to selling his soul to the Other Siders or Shadow Folk. It’s possible he could have sold his soul to the Raven Queen and his shadowy friends are the emissaries of the shadowfell, but as he has no raven or crow familiar, that’s a somewhat weak comparison.

[lazuli-bloom]

Roses and Styx

Chapter 3 – Kids' Games To Pass The Time

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5,399

New day, new problems. Sure things aren't the worst they could be, but that new hire isn't making things all that easy at work.

Last Chapter | Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

An annoying, rhythmic buzz cut through silence. Light seeped its way in, chasing away the shadows of sleep. You groaned and rolled. It was too early to face the new day.

Compounding your groggy state was the fact you didn't sleep for shit last night. The chilly October night sucked the warmth from your room, and you had only a few blankets to shield yourself from it. And the chill didn't stop your mind racing most of the night. When sleep came to you, it brought restless dreams.

The first wasn't terrible, just strange. A weird bug followed you home wanting to be friends. The other dream, however... A vile pit formed in your stomach.

Your thoughts drifted to the dream. You couldn't move. Arms, legs, head, nothing. You couldn't budge an inch no matter how hard you fought. Something wanted you to stay still. And it wasn't as if your surroundings gave you any clues either. Darkness blanketed the room. No details, just a barren inky void. The only thing you found with you was a set of pinprick lights.

A voice spoke. It whispered beautiful words coated in honey. Your guts twisted. A warm touch held your face, and the voice asked you a question. Your words caught in your throat. The entity glared at you with icy eyes, and the sweet words soured to a nasty venom.

You clutched your chest as the memory of searing heat replayed. It sank blazing claws into your waist and arm, blistering and cooking the flesh.

You drew in shaky breaths and wiped away the leftover tears. It was just a dream. It was just a bad dream. You're safe.

You took in one more breath before getting up to start your day.

Normally you would go straight to the bathroom, but you wanted to check something. You stepped out into the main living space and found it empty. A DVD case sat on the coffee table, but the TV screen was dark. The couch laid devoid of any unexpected house guests. No sign anyone else was ever there. Your heart sank as you realized the encounter you remembered was just another dream cooked up by your tired brain. A frown pulled at your lips and you sighed. No time to mope. You needed to get ready for work.

You opened the bathroom door and peered inside. Rigel napped on the top of the toilet's water tank, surrounded by shredded toilet paper. At least it was less of a mess than yesterday. You clean up the ribbons and tossed them in the garbage under the sink. After you topped off his food and water, you hopped in the shower.

The water in your apartment only ever got up to lukewarm on a good day. And that was not a good day. Frigged rain pelted you, giving you goosebumps. Not wanting to linger, you got out and dressed a few minutes later.

You combed your fingers through your hair as you looted the kitchen. Damn cat, why'd it have to throw up on your hairbrush? You grumbled to yourself and pulled out the off-brand cereal to fix breakfast.

"What 'cha doing, babes?" A voice from nowhere spoke in your ear.

Your knees buckle and you collapse, taking the bag of cereal with you. You gripped at your chest to still your heart, and rolled to sit with your back to the cabinets. A man in a rotting striped suit floated in your kitchen, clutching his rounder stomach as he cackled.

"Oh sweets, that's great! I wasn't even trying!"

As the shock fades, your features scrunched up. You got to your feet and tossed the bag on the counter. With crossed arms you pivot to glare at the ghost, still laughing his ass off.

"Giving me a heart attack first thing in the morning," you said with a huff, "I came out here and you were gone. I thought I had dreamed the whole thing, you jerk."

"So you're saying you missed me?" He batted his eyes at you, setting your cheeks on fire. You would not dignify that with a response. Instead, you turned back to the counter and fixed your breakfast.

"Where did you go then?" you asked and riffled through the silverware drawer for a spoon.

"I was checking on your neighbors. Did you know the guys a few doors down have a shit-ton of electronics?"

"Yeah, and old lady Smith has a garden in her closet."

"Really? Which one is she in? I didn't find that."

"She's on the third floor, but don't bug her too much. She's nice. Plus she bakes amazing cookies for me whenever I help her."

You scarfed your breakfast, and double checked you had everything done. Rigel was in the bathroom with his things. You had your wallet and phone. After you finished the last bite, you set the bowl in the sink along with the one from last night.

You rinsed out the bowl and hummed to yourself before you glanced over your shoulder to the ghost. He grinned at you with a tilt of his head. You gave him a small smile, only to frown.

"I have to head to work."

That simple sentence wiped the grin from his face. His shoulders sank, and the color of his hair shifted. A dull purple seeped in and overtook the green. That couldn't be a good sign. "You're leaving me here?"

"Well, you could stay here, or..."

"Or?"

"If you can be out of the way and let me focus on my work when I need to, then you could tag along with me. It’d be nice having someone other than my boss to talk to during the downtime."

His grin stretched across his face again, and he spun up to you, batting his eyes. "Oh babes, you do care! Of course I'll go with you! Not my idea for a first date, but I'll take it."

You pressed your lips tight. Was this a mistake? Not like you can take back the offer, though. That would crush him. You let out a long sigh and rubbed at your temple.

"Not a date, dude."

"If you say so," he purred.

You shook your head and grabbed the keys before heading to the car. The ghost trailed you, with an ever present chill at your side. On the way to the car, he pointed out each of the apartments and spilled whatever secrets he found out. You had an inkling of some of your neighbors' crimes, but you weren't one to go tattling. It was best to let them deal with their lives and you deal with yours. So you ended up nodding along to what the ghost told you.

When you got to your car, you sat behind the wheel for a moment. Once your ghostly friend floated into the passenger seat, you took in a breath.

"Okay. A few things before we get there," You said as you fought to start the car, "If either my boss or a customer comes up and needs to talk to me, I would appreciate it if you hang back for a minute and let me handle them. Otherwise, I mostly just front-face merchandise and I can talk with you so long as I'm quiet. Also, I take my lunches in the cemetery, so I can talk a bit more freely there."

"Sounds good to me, toots."

You rolled your eyes and got the hunk of junk started. The car protested with clangs, but you drove off with a little more of a fight. On the scenic drive to work he asked you to turn on the radio, which got a dry laugh from you.

"What's so funny?"

"Radio's broke. Most things in this car are broken. Radio, heater, a/c. All of them are broken."

"Can't you get a new one? There's cars all over the place, just take one."

"Th-this isn't Grand Theft Auto,"

"It will be once you take a car!"

"Okay, technically true. I meant this isn't the game GTA, this is real life. And I would get arrested."

"Not if you had help from the ghost with the most!"

You rolled your eyes and turned onto the main road, heading for work. The rest of the drive, the "ghost with the most" filled the air with his own voice, singing a medley of songs. Some of them you recognized, others you suspected he made up on the spot.

You pulled into the employee parking and parked your car alongside the two much nicer ones there. As you collected your things, Beetlejuice pointed to the sleek mustang.

"That car looks fun! We should steal a car like that!"

"I'm pretty sure that's Brandon's car. I'm not stealing my coworker's car to take for a joyride."

"But it would be so cool!"

"Maybe later," you said, stepping out of your junker.

The bell chimed as you entered the store and caught your boss's attention. He came over to greet you and made sure you were doing better. You gave a small laugh and rubbed at the back of your neck.

"Yeah, I'm doing better." You glanced sidelong to the ghost wandering over to the front counter.

"Good. Now hopefully I can focus on training Brandon without as many interruptions. He keeps breaking away to chat with every customer that comes into the store. So I need you to handle the customers so he doesn't have an excuse."

"Got it. And if you need help with him, I can always smack some sense into him. The new order of mallets is in the back, right?"

Mr. Turner laughed and turned to go back to teaching Brandon. You smiled to yourself and meandered over to the counter. Your ghost pal sat on the countertop next to the computer.

"You never mentioned you get to hit people at your job, any openings?"

"Sorry, spot's filled. For now, anyway. But who knows, maybe we'll need a replacement soon."

"Save it for me. I would kill to get to hang around a pretty little breather like you all day and get paid for it. But doing that for free is nice too."

"You're a shameless flirt."

"How can a sexy beast like me not be with you around and able to see me?"

You shook your head and glanced at the computer. There was something you wanted to look up, you were sure of it. But what was it? You stepped closer and opened a new tab for the search. It sat blank for a moment as you retraced what the topic could have been.

"What are ya doing, babes?"

"I can't remember what I wanted to search for."

"One hundred great ways to skin a cat?"

You raised a brow and frowned at him. "I'm not hurting Rigel." A light flicked on in your head.

You typed in the cat's name and clicked on the page for the star. A picture of the Orion constellation to the side of the page showed off the stars. Most of them had fancy looking letters next to them, with a few having numbers attached. Rigel marked the lower right star, while the upper left was the only other star with a word.

"Beh-tell? Goose? Wait..." You jerked your head over to the ghost, who wore a Cheshire grin. "That's how you spell your name?"

"Yep. That's me. Behtellgoose."

You read the name once more. Betelgeuse. Such a strange spelling to sound like beetle-juice. Kind of cool though. You smiled and closed out of the tab when an unfamiliar voice called out to you.

"Good morning, Art. Great to see you doing better!"

"Heh, yeah. Feeling better." You forced a tight-lipped smile to prevent yourself from frowning. Brandon stayed still with his own fake smile plastered on his face. After a beat of him not saying anything, you asked, "Do you need something?"

"You forgot to go grab your apron. What if a customer came in? That would look very unprofessional. Here, I'll watch the counter and you can go grab your apron."

The corner of your mouth twitched, and you took in a deep breath. You stepped away and grabbed your stupid apron. As you threw it on, the bell chimed. You rushed back out, hoping to catch the customer before Brandon.

The counter stood unattended and you found Brandon down one aisle with a woman discussing products. You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Isn't that what your boss wanted you to stop him from doing?"

"Yes, Beetle, it is."

You hissed out a sigh and shook your head. As you walked over to them, you prepared yourself to speak in your chipper customer service voice. Brandon insisted he could take care of the customer, only for Mr. Turner to order him to get back to training. Brandon grimaced and stepped away to let you take over.

Your smile was easier to keep on your face after that. You helped the customer find what she needed and rang up her items. She left with a wave and you went back to the computer.

"What the hell is that guy's deal?" Betelgeuse asked, gesturing with a thumb to Brandon.

"I don't know. I don't know if I really care." You leaned back onto your heels and let your mind wander. Whenever you were alone, stuck at the counter, you always pulled up simple web games on the computer to pass the time. But with Betelgeuse there, you couldn't ignore him to play games.

"What are ya thinking about, sweets? How hot it would be to make out right now?"

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "No, you flirt. I'm thinking of what we can do to pass the time. All I'm coming up with are twenty questions and I spy."

"I'm fine with that," he said as he flashed you a sharp grin. "Okay, I'll start. I spy with my rotten eye, something... metal."

"Well, that narrows it down."

The two of you spent the rest of the morning going, taking turns playing those silly kids' games. Betelgeuse huffed and whined whenever a customer, or worse, Brandon, pulled you away to help them. Any time you called him out on his grumbling, he denied it as the color in his hair shifted.

He caught you staring at his hair once or twice, which exacerbated the shifting colors. Each time that happened, Betelgeuse quickly picked up whichever game you two had been playing. You left the topic alone for the moment, but stashed it away to ask about later.

Halfway into a difficult game of twenty questions, Mr. Turner came up to the counter. You ignored Betelgeuse's smug punchable face and greeted your boss, hoping your frustration didn't bleed into your tone.

"Cass, I'm stepping out for a bit to pick up something. I should be back for you to take your lunch break. Keep an eye on the store and Brandon for me, while I'm gone, okay?"

"Got it. Burn down the place and leave no evidence. Can do."

He shook his head with a laugh. Mr. Turner said, "you turd," before he waved goodbye and left the shop.

"Ooh baby, I love you talking about crimes like that! Tell me how you'd light up the place."

You turned back to the ghost. He floated with his stomach parallel to the ground as he held his scruffy chin in his hands and swung his legs pointed upward. You laughed at the dork and smiled.

"Well, the kerosene is over there, and the rolls of rags are an aisle over. There's a blow torch with some of the other tools."

"Artemis!" You whipped your attention to the stick in the mud, frowning at you. You didn't even get the chance to speak. "That kind of talk is highly unprofessional! Going over ways to burn down the store, shame on you."

"I was joking dude, it's not—"

"Well, I don't find that funny. And you shouldn't address your elders as 'dude', it is very disrespectful."

"Alright, I'm sorry."

"Good. Now I need your help."

You gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. Brandon motioned for you to follow him, and once he turned back, you brought two fingers to your temple and jerked your head away.

In the middle of a tedious and painful walkthrough of creating an order of paint, the bell rang. Brandon broke away the second it chimed and went straight to helping the customer. That was irritating enough, but after the regular said they didn't need any help, Brandon insisted on assisting them.

You took in a deep breath and let the man dig his own grave. If he doesn't value your help, then he's not getting it. You marched back to the counter and found Betelgeuse picking his teeth.

He licked a striped tongue over his sharp teeth then said, "What a douchebag."

"Tell me about it."

The customer came up to the counter a minute later, followed by Brandon. You greeted the regular and switched the computer over to its register display. Your new coworker nudged you aside and insisted on being the one to ring up the customer.

"Artemis, you should have stayed at the paint desk. I'll meet you back there in a minute, after I help this gentleman."

You wanted nothing more than to slap that man. Who the hell does he think he is? Calling you unprofessional and pulling stunts like that? You grit your teeth and forced a smile before excusing yourself to head back to the paint desk.

Betelgeuse floated after you and lounged on top of the desk. You spared him a glance, but stuck to pacing the small paint pit, waiting for that douche-canoe to get back there. The customer didn't even have a lot of things to buy, so it shouldn't take Brandon that long.

"That freaking jerk," you said under your breath, "I can't believe Mr. Turner hired a guy like that."

"Want me to kill him?"

"Tempting, but no. I'm just going to talk to my boss when he gets back." You checked your phone for the time. A quarter after one, which means only fifteen more minutes until your lunch break. "God, I hope he's here soon."

You tapped your nails against the metal top of the tint machine, the speed of which accelerated the longer you waited. What the hell was taking him so long? Did another customer show up? This was getting infuriating.

"You sure you don't want me to kill the guy?"

"No, Beetle, I don't want you to do that."

"Art, who are you talking to?"

You turned around to the voice. Brandon stood at the threshold of the paint pit with his hand on his hips and raised a brow at you. Your face burned as you laughed, attempting to cover up your embarrassment.

"Oh, just this annoying little beetle. It was crawling under the tint dispenser."

"Do you regularly talk to disgusting bugs?" he asked. You opened your mouth to speak, only for Brandon to keep talking. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't act so childish. How old are you? Late teens?"

"No, Brandon, I'm closer to my thirties than my teens."

"And you're talking to bugs, where any customer can come up and see that behavior. You ought to grow up and act your age, Artemis."

The bell chimed again, and you shuffled to the side to get an unobstructed view of the front. Mr. Turner stepped in with a smile and a wave. You waved back and checked the clock on the computer. One twenty-seven, perfect. You pulled your apron's strings and took it off in a swift motion.

"Where do you think you're going, Artemis?"

"Lunch."

Brandon frowned, and you folded up your apron with a smile. He probably wanted to stop you from leaving, but that shit would not fly with the boss back. Betelgeuse hopped down from his spot on the counter and followed. You tossed your apron behind the front counter and greeted Mr. Turner. After a quick rundown of what had happened, you left for your break, with a quick stop to your car to grab your food.

On the walk to the cemetery, Betelgeuse mocked the stupid things Brandon said. He was dead on with his impression, too.

"Artemis, do you think I give a shit? I'm a giant douche with a stick up my ass! There's no fun allowed in the store."

You did your best to hold back your laughter, but that only caused you to snort. A laugh roared out next to you in Betelgeuse's voice. You covered your mouth with your free hand, but that couldn't stop your shoulders from bouncing. As the two of you crossed into the graveyard, you glanced sidelong at the ghost, who shot you a grin.

In the cemetery, devoid of any other visitors, you veered towards your usual spot, off in the corner and near the front gate. You sat on the stone bench, setting your lunch beside you. Betelgeuse, however, sat on a gravestone, with his feet propped up on the one next to it.

You opened up your small bag of chips and started snacking on them. Betelgeuse looked over from picking at his nails and raised a brow at you.

"That's all you're going to eat, babes?"

"I have a granola bar too."

You grabbed the other half of your lunch and showed him. He tilted his head with a frown, but said nothing. It grew quiet, save for your munching on the chips. Your mind wandered, and you zoned out, staring unfocused in a random direction. Betelgeuse moved, catching your eye, and you studied him.

He gnawed at his black nails with jagged yellow teeth. Stubble covered his round chin, matching the same green mixed in his hair. Has his stubble changed color like his hair has? And why did his hair change color to begin with?

You hummed to yourself after finishing the last of your chips.

"What's up, sweets?"

"I... was hoping to ask you something."

Betelgeuse tilted his head to the other side and raised a brow and pursed his lips. You gave a half smile and laughed. He looked like a curious puppy. How could this ghost-demon look so cute?

"What is it?"

"I've noticed that your hair isn't always green." 

As soon as the sentence left your mouth, the color of his hair shifted to a deep purple. You shrank back as your stomach twisted into knots. Even without knowing what the colors meant, the frown on his face and sudden dodging of eye contact weren't good signs. On no. You messed up, didn't you? Why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?

"I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything. Forget I ever mentioned it."

You dug your nails into your palms and turned your gaze to your knees. Betelgeuse produced a mix of a growl and a groan, and you peered up at him through your hair. His lips pulled into an almost smile as he kept sharp eyes pointed at his hands, where he raked his nails through the hair of one.

"I might as well tell you, you'd figure it out eventually. My hair changes color with my mood."

You dared to lift your head more. Your lips parted as your brain processed the new information.

"Like a chameleon?"

"Like what?"

He tilted his head and raised a brow as his nose wrinkled. You forced out a small laugh and smile as you wrung your wrists. "A chameleon, the little lizards that change color. It's to communicate their mood. Darker colors like black are when it's stressed, neutral tones are when it's calm, and vibrant greens, or reds can be excitement or aggression."

Betelgeuse lurched forward with a growl and ran his hands through his hair, shielding the deepening purple from view. Your stomach twisted into knots. This wasn't getting better. You parted your lips only to press them shut a second later. Why did you have to screw up and bring up his hair in the first place?

Your nails dug deeper into your palms. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"If you're going to strip a guy naked like that, babes, you could at least buy me dinner first."

Your face wrinkled as you tilted your head at him. Betelgeuse still held himself curled and closed off, but he wore a weak crooked smile. Your lips twitched, and you huffed out a dry laugh.

"Alright, we can go through the drive thru to get a few things off the dollar menu."

"Ooh! I wanna try one of those green sludgy shake things from that Old MacDonald place."

"Sorry to break this to you, but they only sell those in March."

"What? That's lame!"

"Everything is pumpkin spice right now."

He pouted and crossed his arms with a huff. Despite the childish act, the purple in his hair faded back to a muted green. You chuckled to yourself as relief washed over you. With a soft smile, you grabbed the other half of your lunch and hummed before you opened it.

"Hey Beetle."

"Hmm?"

"I won't bring it up again if you don't want me to, but I wanted to say I think your chameleon hair is pretty cool. Like, is it magic? Or is it a demon thing? Or—sorry. I'm sorry. I'll shut up about it now. Sorry."

Your eyes darted to focus on your granola bar. You fumbled with tearing open the packaging for a second, only for the wrapper to give. The force sent your food tumbling to the ground. You stared at the broken bar and heaved out a sigh. Just wonderful.

Your pocket buzzed, veering your attention to it. You pulled out your phone and checked the caller id. Unknown number. Chills cascaded down as you stared at the phone.

"Something wrong, babes?"

"Nope. Everything's fine. Just some spam call."

You shoved it back into your pocket and let it ring. If the caller wanted anything, they can leave a voicemail. Besides, you needed to get back to work.

You picked up your trash and nodded your head to the gate. Betelgeuse hopped up and floated alongside you. After a few steps out of the cemetery, your phone rang again. Every fiber in you tensed up, but you left your phone in your pocket. The third time your phone rang, Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Who the hell keeps calling you?"

You shrugged and laughed despite your dry throat. "Who knows? I have to get back to work though."

With a hurried pace, you made it back to the store in a few minutes. The bell swung, chiming away as you beeline for your apron behind the counter. Brandon stood at the register with a phone up to his ear.

"There you are, Art! I've been calling you and you never once answered!" Brandon frowned at you and slipped his phone into his pants pocket. "You're obligated to pick up if I or Mr. Turner ever need to call you."

"O-oh, that was you calling." A small breath escapes passed your lips and you relax, only to register what he said. "Wait, how did you even get my number? I've only ever given this number to Sam and Mr. Turner."

"Why does it matter how I got your number? The issue is; if work calls you, especially if you have a shift that day, you need to answer."

"Fine, okay. I'll save your number so I don't panic again when I'm called three times in a row."

"Oh please, three phone calls make you panic? Artemis, you're an adult. You should know better than to be worried about something as simple as a phone call."

You grit your teeth and smiled. This conversation wasn't going anywhere you wanted, and you didn't plan on sticking around. You threw on your apron and marched to a far corner of the store to get away from everyone. Well, save for the ghost haunting you.

"Wow, babes, that guy is a major piece of work."

"Piece of shit is more like it."

You grabbed at products on the shelf and pulled them forward, turning the labels when needed. If you looked busy, maybe Brandon would mind his own fucking business. You clenched your jaw and growled as you brought more things forward.

"I shouldn't be worried about phone calls? What the fuck does he know? He's never had to put up with the shit I have!"

"And what shit would that be, babes?"

You glanced up to the ghost laying on his stomach across the top of the aisle shelving. Betelgeuse tilted his head. Soft and earnest curiosity graced his features. The corner of your mouth twitched before you closed your eyes and let out a hiss.

"I don't want to get into it," you said, keeping your voice quiet, "but I've had someone call me over and over before. It wasn't fun."

You pulled the rest of the items forward within arm's reach before sidestepping to get more. Betelgeuse floated after you as you inched down the aisle. He picked the games back up, and you welcomed the distraction.

There were one or two rounds of I spy, several goes at twenty questions—which you're positive Betelgeuse cheated and switched his topic multiple times. Towards the end of your shift, well after Brandon left for the day, you two asked a few "would you rather" questions. While he asked a few risque questions at the start—bite or be bitten, top or bottom—his questions took a tamer turn, similar to the ones you asked.

"Okay babe, would you rather find a rat in the kitchen or a roach in your bed?"

"I mean... I guess I'd prefer seeing another rat in the kitchen over finding more roaches?"

"M-more?"

"Donna hires her incompetent nephew to do the pest control for the apartments." You swept the line of dirt into the pan and tossed it into the trash. "Actually, speaking of, I should double check the traps and make sure something isn't rotting somewhere in the apartment."

Betelgeuse watched you finish the last of the closing routine. You clicked the pan back around the neck of the broom and stuffed it into a corner behind the counter. The only thing left was Mr. Turner to finish locking up the cash and heading out. You leaned against the counter and rolled your head back to look at the ceiling.

A quiet stillness overtook the store. It lasted a few seconds before Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Would you rather have a nicer place but the same landlady, or the same apartment with a nicer landlady—"

"Alright Cass, you ready to leave?"

You turned your attention from the unseen ghost to your boss. He smiled and gestured to the door. You returned a half smile before exiting. Mr. Turner locked up, and you waved goodbye. A minute later you sank into the car seat and rested your hands on the wheel.

"Well babes, this certainly seems familiar."

You glanced his way and rolled your eyes before getting the car started.

"Yep, it's been an entire day since a demon followed my home, like a lost puppy."

"I'm way cuter than any puppy. Plus, you can keep me in your apartment all you want and your shitty landlady can't do anything about it!"

"Nicer landlady, by the way," you said as the car sputtered to life.

"What?"

"I'd rather have a nicer landlady than a nicer place. Donna would just let a nicer place fall to ruin."

You pulled out of the parking lot and drove home. At the first red light, you tapped your finger on the wheel and hummed.

"Hey Beetle, would you rather stay in a comfortable and familiar place with people that don't believe half of what you say, or cut all contact with them and be alone if it meant freedom?"

Betelgeuse tilted his head from one side to the other, closing his eyes as he mulled over your question. As he thought, the light changed, and you continued on your way home. A sharp grin stretched across his face a moment later.

"Easy. I'd take my freedom."

Your lips twitched up. "Yeah... me too."

[thetorchwoodarchive]

[Image Description: a banner for the Across the Bay Crossover Fics You Didn’t See Coming fest, featuring beach signs on a tropical island, reading “Cardiff by the Sea”, the name of the fest, “authors”, “torchwood” (partially obscured), and “one shots” (partially obscured), and a warning sign where Myfanwy chases a swimmer]

ACROSS THE BAY: CROSSOVER FICS YOU DIDN’T SEE COMING MASTERPOST

Thank you everyone for submitting your crossover and fusion fic  recommendations. Below are all submissions and some of our favorites! 

Is it Insensitive for Me to Say by aliciajazmin (EstherJohnTosh | complete | 2441 | T)

Toshiko Sato and Esther Drummond absolutely will make fun of their boyfriend for deciding to attend an audition, while also attending said audition with him. 

Crossover With: The Outer Worlds 

Golden Apples and Norse Gods (Or How Ianto Got His Groove Back) by blackkat (JackIanto | complete | 1592 | G)

Ianto finds himself back from the dead and, apparently, in the position to double-cross a power-crazed Norse god intent on conquering the Earth by taking out a team of superheroes. Must be a Tuesday.

Crossover With: Avengers/MCU

The Magic of Torchwood by Bella the Strange (JackIanto, IantoJohn, JackOther, Non-Torchwood Ships | wip |  546,512 | T)

The Torchwood team have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Set between Adam and Reset. Rated T because of Jack Harkness, swearing, mature themes, slash etc… it’s Torchwood!

Crossover With: Harry Potter

Welcome to Torchwood by Jackdaw818 (Gen | complete | 1601 | T)

A strange creature behind the Ralphs, a break-in at the Museum of Forbidden Technologies, and visitors in Night Vale. Overall, a slightly unordinary day for Cecil Gershwin Palmer

Crossover With: Welcome to Night Vale

Torchwait for iiiiit by lady-demacabre (Gen | complete | 3k | K+)

When Shawn and Gus are called in on a case for an eccentric collector of alien objects, they get more than what they bargained for. One shot, Psych oriented.

Crossover With: Psych

Theme and Variations by nemo_baker (JackIanto, GwenRhys, OwenKatie | 5817 | T)

Time Agent Jack Harkness is sent back in time to solve the mystery of a mysterious train bombing. The problem is, he only has eight minutes to do it.

Written for Reel Torchwood screening 8 on Livejournal. Movie Prompt: Source Code (2011)

Crossover With: Source Code 

Day Tripper by Croquemboucheballpit (Gement) (JackBessie the Third Doctor’s Car, Bessie the Third Doctor’s CarLightening McQueen (past) | complete | 2360 | M)

Bessie’s like any other companion: far from home, more than she appears, and always up for an adventure.

And Jack Harkness really will seduce anything that moves.

Crossover With: Pixar’s Cars 

An American Volunteer by That_one_kid (SteveBucky, BuckyJackSteve | Complete | 4395 | T)

What if Captain Jack Harkness met Steve & Bucky during the war? What if he ran into them again, present day?

AKA

Captain Jack Harkness and his mission to seduce the two gorgeous, capable soldiers who keep running into him.

Crossover With: Captain America/MCU

Statement #0041708 - Future Sight by Jackdaw816 (Gen | complete | 1690 | T)

Statement of Lisa Hallett regarding a peculiar mirror found at a car boot sale

Crossover With: The Magnus Archives

(Un)Welcome Aboard by Jaune_Chat (Jack | Complete | 4,154 | T)

To make ends meet, Mal listens to a suggestion from Inara than he rent out the other shuttle. She has the perfect candidate, a charming Companion named Jack…

Crossover With: Firefly 

Death and the Definitely-Not-A Maiden by Odsbodkins (JackIanto | Complete | 3,6K | PG-13)

When Jack dies, Death is there to meet him. Every time. Written in 2008 for the Doctor Who Crossover Ficathon. Takes in Torchwood to end S2, Doctor Who to end S3, Discworld to Soul Music.

Crossover With: Discworld 

Remarkable by snowwhiteliar ( JackIanto, IantoLisa | Complete | 20.971 | PG-13)

Summary: Once upon a time, in a small village in a distant province of a peaceful kingdom, there lived a boy called Ianto

Crossover With: Fairy Tales 

Got That Friday Feeling Again by NancyBrown (OwenOther, JackIanto, GwenRhys, GwenOwen | Complete | 18.3K | R)

HELP HELP HELP HELP

I AM TRAPPED IN A TIME BUBBLE

The magic marker all over the nice chintz wallpaper bled and smeared as Owen wrote in increasingly desperate lettering across the walls. Ls and Ps dragged down, wiggly at the end or drawn out in slashed strokes.

He ignored the pounding on the door frame. He’d shoved the wardrobe in front, which always kept Jack out for twenty three and a half minutes. He ignored the sweat and tears and snot dripping down his face, down his mouth. He ignored the high-pitched singing from his own throat, “If you want my future, forget my past,” chanted over and over.

HELP

Crossover With: Groundhog Day

Back, and Back, and Back a Little More (Future Optional) (JackIanto, JennyVastra | Complete |  32591 | M)

Accidentally shot into the past by a time-travelling car, Ianto has to fix his own mistakes or he won't have a future to go back to.

Crossover With: Back to the Future 

Truth, Justice by NancyBrown (SupermanOwen | complete | 414 | M)

The green shit does not work. Warnings: dubcon (AMTDI)

Crossover With: Justice League Unlimited/DCAU/Superman 

Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodies, or, A Humourous Interlude Between Epics by  copperbadge (Gen | complete | 749 | T)

Ianto neglected to introduce himself as he informed the senior staff that Atlantis was now under the jurisdiction of Torchwood, whatever Torchwood is.

Crossover With: Stargate Atlantis 

Never Have I Ever by  st_aurafina (JackIanto, JackDoctor (past/implied), PepperTony (implied) | complete | 1714 | T)

Written for the prompt Ianto, Donna and Pepper end up at a secretaries'/assistants' conference and have a conversation about their bosses.

Crossover With: Ironman/MCU

Beware the Sparkles by elisi (JackIanto, JackEdwardBella | complete | 4793 | T)

It's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after. Oh and Jack has sex with sparkly vampires.

Crossover With: Twilight 

The Death Note Discovery by KaibaGirl007 (JackIanto | complete | 18,992 | T)

“You’ve clearly just got a notebook belonging to some geek, a rather sick geek I’ll give you that, who likes to keep note of people’s deaths.” - Will the team resist the urge to use the Death Note or will one of them give into temptation? 

Crossover With: Death Note 

A Confluence of Personalities by  galaxysoup (JackIanto | complete | 4839 | T)

Conner Kent’s body might be dead, but his soul has apparently decided to take the scenic route.

Crossover With: DC Comics/Young Justice Comics 

Imposters Among Us by  gwendolyncooper (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 9117 | M)

The Torchwood team (+Rhys) are out for a night of fun when they end up on a spaceship with no power, no info, and no crew. Known only as THE SKELD, the team tries to fix the ship and figure out what happened to its previous occupants.

But something out there is killing them.

Something that may be someone they know.

Crossover With: Among Us 

Traitors (Among Us) by princessoftheworlds (JackIanto | complete | 440 | G)

In a happy future, the team plays Among Us, and Ianto suffers.

Crossover With: Among US 

Tagline: I saw the VIDEO. Got the CALL? What Next??? by  BricklingGhost (TeamGwenee) (JackIanto, JackSamara | complete | 2424 | Not Rated)

'Tagline: I saw the VIDEO. Got the CALL? What Next???

Bollocks. That’s just a myth. Some git showing off and claiming to be the one person alive who Samara doesn’t bump off. He’ll be boasting that he’s been chosen to kill Voldemort next.'

When another unsuspecting victim falls foul of the cursed tape, he is pointed towards Captain Jack Harkness as his only hope for salvation.

Crossover With: The Ring

(My God, He Just) Came and Went by  Brokenpitchpipe (SteveBucky | complete | 1591 | M)

It starts on a cold, snowy September night in 1916, on the day Winifred Barnes walks to Doris Lindow’s house to see her new telephone and catches the eye of a handsome young man on the other side of the street. He tips his hat as she sees him, and she flushes scarlet and nods in return.

And nine months later, a little baby boy screams his way into the world.

But that’s not when it starts. Not really.

Crossover With: Captain America/MCU

Beast Inside by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto, OwenTosh, GwenRhys | complete | 26934 | M)

"Argue with anything else, but don’t argue with your own nature.” - Phillip Pullman

Inside us all, there is an animal that expresses our soul. How would the world change were those animals outside?

Crossover With: His Dark Materials

Rifts and Robots by Paycheckgurl (JackIanto | complete | 3021 | G)

Jack and Ianto’s date at the movies is interrupted by two robots with no theater etiquette.

Crossover With: Mystery Science Theater 3000

The Jack and Ianto Show by Paycheckgurl (JackIanto | WIP | 7392 | T)

Jack and Ianto are a regular couple, living a quiet life, and trying to fit into the quaint Village of West Castle. Sure they're keeping the secret that Jack is an immortal time traveler from the future, with a fantastical machine called a vortex manipulator that can manipulate time and space around them, but they have much more pressing concerns. Such as strict bosses and nosy neighbors. Everything is perfect, a dream come true.

And Jack is going to keep it that way.

Please Stand By...

Crossover With: WandaVision 

Mutually Assured Uncooperation by  princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, OwenTosh, MarthaMickey, FitzSimmons, LincolnDaisy (past) | complete | 31547 | T)

Aliens, time-travelling, resurrections. These are all experiences familiar to not just one but two top-secret organizations that have a hard time keeping a low-profile. Figures that they would encounter each other eventually.

Or: the five times that SHIELD and Torchwood had an encounter that neither were pleased with, and the one time they had to work together when two of their own were taken.

Or: There's Kree running amok in Cardiff, including a murdered one, and Torchwood is on the case, but so is SHIELD. Also, don't forget the memory-manipulating aliens there too!

Crossover With: Agents of Shield/MCU

all i know is (infatuations) by  princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, JackJohn,  OwenTosh, LisaIanto | complete | 439 | T)

Seventh-year Slytherin Ianto Jones handles a break up, getting a boyfriend, terrible emotional misunderstandings with his best friend Jack Harkness, being miserable, and reconciliation. (Not precisely in that order.)

Crossover With: Harry Potter