#but also had Rogue Glitter

[shiftythrifting]

Fooball Santa

And what I think might be a set for strawberry shortcake made over to be a winter wonderland. Pink brush trees n snowflakes glued on.

[greyias]

The Continuing Adventures of my Dumbass Minstrel Paladin

I keep forgetting to record or even get screenshots of some of the more hilarious shenanigans Aravyn and the Tadpole Gang are getting up to. So last night after spending an hour gleefully running all over the map to make Gale infinitely recast "Speak with the Dead" on all of the glowing corpses with our new shiny necklace loot we got from the chapel, I realized I hadn't gotten a trigger for a quest I remembered from early access regarding mean druid lady being suspiciously mean and after referencing some ancient texts (see: walkthroughs), I realized I needed to head back to the grove to do some poking around.

After spending like fifteen minutes poking around rooms, eventually I started throwing up dancing light cantrips at all of the dark corners. And eventually doing this I find the little dark hole that leads back to a hidden area where there's a chest marked in red.

Just imagine, you're a xenophobic druid who is ready to cut yourself off from the outside world forever, and this stupid paladin who talked your homicidal new boss lady out from letting some kid get eaten by a snake is now going around to all of the dark corners of your comfy dark underground hidey hole muttering to herself and throwing up sparkles in all of the shadows. Nothing suspicious there. She's just lighting up the world. It's what Sylvanus would want, I suppose.

Well, going into sneak mode reveals that the angry elf druid guy who keeps telling me to get lost is looking right at the chest, and so that's a problem. What's the Tadpole Gang to do? My paladin has a negative on stealth checks, and I don't know if stealing will technically break her oath, but if I'm staying true to character she probably wouldn't like it. But, clearly the group needs a distraction that will get everyone's attention in one area, so that an enterprising sneakthief can go pick the lock on that chest and take a little peekaboo.

It's time for a Mini-Heist

"Surely this won't work," I tell myself, and get the group gathered just in between all of the NPCs in the grove, toggle party mode, and position my rogueiest vampire suspiciously near where he needs to be.

Then Aravyn starts strumming away -- and lo and behold--

Gathers a crowd. Literally everyone stops what they're doing to come gather around and in the distance I hear them all cheering her on and complimenting the tune. "That's a great song!" says Kagha who moments before was sneering at us. Apparently, she's a lover of music. THE WOLF even comes over and starts listening, I think it's a possibility the rats even stopped scurrying around to listen.

There is cheering going off in the distance as Astarion quickly and effortlessly picks the lock on Kagha's chest and loots all of the contents. Then casually saunters back to the rest of the group as the NPCs are still happily bopping along to Ari's rendition of "Bard Dance".

She finishes her song, Kagha starts throwing gold at her feet. An NPC literally just paid me to rob her 🤣 We quickly pick up our three hard earned gold (look look it's not important however much Astarion has in his pocketses okay), and the party shuffles on out where everyone is still chanting their ritual and quickly go off to the secluded area just beyond the chanting circle to look at the evidence and continue their quest, having successfully completed their tiny heist.

And now I'm imagining now imagining this scene where Astarion throws his arms around his pal(adin)'s shoulder and is like "Look at all these dour faces. Darling, why don't you perform that utterly delightful ditty you couldn't stop playing around the fire at camp last night. I'm sure it would raise everyone's spirits", and then casually strolls off as she starts plucking at strings and the crowd begins gathering, then whistling along with the tune as he walks back up and congratulates everyone on the impromptu concert and then quickly steering his party back outside. "Man, that outsider sparkle-making Paladin sure is a bitch," says Marcoryl, who keeps complaining about not killing a small tiefling child (so you know his opinion is to be trusted), "but she sure can play a lute."

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 2 – Pool Party 🌊

This was supposed to be 500 words. It isn't. Also, it was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted drabble. I have no clue how it turned into angst/comfort. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy reading it! ❤️

Day 1 - Strawberries, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: Insecurities, mild angst/comfort, implied nudity

It was yet another boiling hot day and the group was suffering. Having to wear heavy leather armour and full supply packs whilst encountering a veritable cornucopia of monsters certainly did not help their mood.

When you saw the glittering blue thread of the river on the horizon, you felt like falling on your knees and weeping tears of joy. The rest seemed to be just as excited as you at the prospect of washing the grime and dirt off their sweat slicked bodies. Even Lae’zel for once did not complain when Gale tentatively suggested that they continue on in that direction.

Your steps quickened and after another hour you finally felt a cool breeze caress your cheeks. You looked over at your rogue walking a little behind you, the gentle wind teasing his silver curls. Astarion was the least affected by the weather but even he seemed to visibly relax when he realised that they would be stopping shortly.

“Phew, soldier. It is hotter than the hells today. Can’t wait to go for a dip. In fact,” Karlach grinned, “can our leader be persuaded to stay here till tomorrow?”

“Well, it would certainly be good for the morale,” Shadowheart agreed, letting her pack drop with a thud. “I, for one, am not moving anywhere until I wash the viscera out of my hair.”

“Tsk, vanity is a vice, dear,” Astarion teased, moving to set up his tent.

“Says the vainest person in Faerûn and beyond,” Shadowheart shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Most certainly! But you see, it would be a sin against all creatures to deny them the opportunity to gaze in admiration upon my beauty. You agree my sweet, don’t you?” he grinned, looking at you fondly.

“Perhaps, although when it comes to looks, I’m afraid this lot certainly could dethrone you, Astarion. You are an attractive bunch,” you smile at your friends as they prepared to finally, finally enjoy the weather rather than suffer in the heat.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest, but I am just happy that we aren’t getting attacked for once. I am half-expecting something to jump out the bushes at any moment. We need to stay vigilant,” Wyll reminded everyone.

“Argh, monster hunters,” Astarion scoffed, “so paranoid.”

You didn’t hear Wyll’s reply, choosing to step into your tent and begin to shed the layers upon layers that you had on.

As you undressed, you scowled as you uncovered yet another scar. Spells healed cuts and wounds well enough, but unfortunately your body was covered in reminders of battles fought.

You tried not to think about. You had bigger, more urgent matters to attend do. But, as you thought of Astarion’s beautiful, unmarked face, you felt an ugly feeling rise as you thought of how a creature as perfect as your elf would think of you when the adventure would come to its inevitable end.

You knew he was fond of you. Knew that he was grateful for what you did for him. And maybe that would be enough for a while still. But you also were under no illusion about what would happen once it was no longer necessary for your merry little band to stay together. The end of the Absolute would probably mean the end of this alliance. They would all carry on their personal quests, fighting their battles, living their lives. And you would let them go. Let Astarion go too. Because you loved him and realised that there would be nothing worse than deny him the freedom that he so desperately fought for.

You heard splashing and laughter from outside the tent, making you smile. You didn’t feel like joining in, but perhaps you could go for a little swim once everyone settled in for the night. Yes, a midnight dip sounded heavenly.

Hours trickled by and finally everyone bid each other goodnight and soon all was still. You gathered your supplies and put on a thin cotton slip. It was not something that you would usually dare to venture out in, but everyone was clearly resting, so what was the harm?

Quietly, you slipped out and walked barefoot along the shore, careful to avoid the sharper rocks, and made your way away from camp.

As you were about put your things down, you felt the fine hairs on the back of your neck rise. Someone or something was watching you.

“Astarion, if you want to catch me unawares, then you shouldn’t have doused yourself in your signature scent. I could smell you before I could hear you,” you turned, your eyes locking with ruby ones.

“Oh, please! I was hardly being subtle,” he took a step towards you, “in fact, I was all but stomping my feet not to startle you.”

“Sure you were,” your lips quirked into a smile and you shivered, suddenly feeling very exposed as he levelled you with an intense, hungry look.

“Any particular reason for you waiting until now to go down to the river, hm? I thought you just couldn’t wait to cool down.”

You gripped the towel tighter, not wanting to talk about your insecurities. As far as everyone was concerned, you were the confident, daring leader. The one who threw yourself headfirst into the epicentre of any battle. And you would rather walk on red-hot coals than admit that you were self-conscious about your body to Astarion, out of all people. Being in a situationship with an impossibly gorgeous vampire did not mean that you felt worthy of being in a relationship with the said mind-numbingly beautiful vampire.

This wasn’t the most exposed you were, you all but shared a tent and were intimate on several occasions. But sex was about being lost in the moment, there was hopefully little opportunity for him to see the full extent of the damage done to your body over the years.

“Darling?”

Your eyes snapped to his fingers as he reached out to cradle your wet face in his hands.

Shit.

Were you crying? You so were not standing near naked in the middle of nowhere with your intoxicatingly beautiful lover and pathetically crying because you felt that you could never, ever hold a candle to him even on your best day. Except apparently, you were.

“I- I’m sorry. I guess the heat got to me. You should go back to camp.”

“I’m staying.”

“No,” you wanted to sound firm, but it came out far less certain than intended.

“Why?”

You pulled on the hem of your slip down subconsciously and looked away. Astarion was quick to catch on. His eyes softened and his hands fell to your shoulders.

“Darling, how many times do I have to tell you how beautiful you are for you to believe it? I can hardly keep away from you.”

“I know. But that’s hardly attraction. I am just, kind of, there. And you are grateful and, I suppose, maybe you-”

He scoffed. “Don’t insult me by insinuating that I have been forcing myself to come to your tent every night for the past several months. You were the first to tell me that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. And now, I very much want to do this.”

You saw a flash of a blade in your peripheral and then felt the fabric slide down as it fell to the ground. You dropped the folded towel you were still holding in a futile attempt to keep what was left of your clothes on you.

“Perhaps a more hands on demonstration of how I feel about you is in order. Time to be a man of deeds, rather than of words, so to speak.”

His lips found your neck as he threw the dagger on the ground and gripped your waist tight, pulling you closer to his body.

“But my scars-”

“Love, I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth unless it is my name, are we clear?”

“But-”

“You told me that my scars don’t define me. That I am more than just my past. It is baffling that you would show endless kindness to anyone but yourself. So let us not waste another moment. No more words.”

You nodded and your eyes fluttered closed, submitting to his eager hands.

“This is what happens when we have no opportunity for taking some time to ourselves. Yet another drawback of staying within earshot of everyone. We are overdue for a little private pool party, hm?” he said, lifting you up and carrying you to the river.

And then Astarion descended onto you, mapping your body with his lips, committing your sighs and moans to memory.

Tag list:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

@anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck

[thedegu]

Tag yourself, what you bring when you go out:

Bard: Alongside the necessities, you always bring either a musical instrument and/or a full makeup set. You never know when a party might start! Your bag is either $2 or $200. You make it work either way. Essentials? eh, if they're in there, they're in there.

Barbarian: phone wallet keys. Pants have pockets for a reason. If you're feeling spicy, you'll have a multi tool on your Keychain

Cleric: At LEAST one first aid kit, two lip balms snacks and drinks, bug spray and sunscreen for you freinds who forgot to put it on. Your purse weighs as much as a neutron star, but at least it's cute!

Druid: same as cleric, but you, instead of a purse, use one of those huge reusable grocery bags. More emphasis on snacks than the first aid kit (someone else will probably have that coveted, right?) But you might also have some loose dog treats in the bottom of your bag, so pay attention when snacking.

Fighter: You carry a backpack or over-the-shoulder duffel, but your phone wallet and other essentials are kept in your pockets because it's easier to access. What do you keep in your bag? Well, at least one knife and assorted tools and emergency supplies. You keep on forgetting to put in that first aid kit, but then you'd probably need to take out that 75 piece screwdriver kit, which, tbh is more useful in more situations.

Rainger: Look, you HAVE a bag, or... had one... you just leave it at home more often than you remember it. Look, you don't really need your phone when you're on a hike, right? And the trail mix in your pocket should be enough, too. Or you have a fanny pack that is more akin to a benign tumor. There is no in between.

Rogue: Just.... so many pockets. Like, sewing extra pockets into the inside of your jacket. Like "How did you fit that sub sandwich inside of there" pockets. Like you somehow have all of the tools you need for any reason on your person at any time without a bag amount of pocket. When you're fully suited up, your clothes work as a weighted blanket. It's honestly impressive and slightly terrifying.

Paladin: Like.... a bag?? Over the shoulder with RFID protection. Nothing too fancy either, phone, wallet, keys. Snacks and a small tube of sunscreen and maybe a hand warmer in the winter. Just get the job done, if you need something more you'll take it when you need it.

Wizard: You got the backpack on sale. That's what matters to you. Never mind how it makes your back hurt or that it's falling to pieces. It holds your books and laptop and.... ah, hm, everything else you need. Oh! It does have a cool wallet compartment... just let me... oh, it's so hard to get to give me one second... really, I do have the cash for this coffee. I swear one... oh, there goes my thesaurus.

Warlock: bags are meant as a fashion statement over their utility. Yeah, I can only fit my phone or my wallet in it, but I look good doing it, so what does it matter. Black is always in season, and so are chunky boots and spiked collars. Well it's not like you'll be going out without your freinds, you might as well have them hold your things, they honestly shouldn't trust you with your own credit cards anyway so it's a win-win

Sorcerer: You have one of those electronic bags that fallows you, and you've never looked back. Yes, it might be risky. Yes, taking a full luggage bag everywhere is a bit excessive. But if it does get stolen, the glitter bomb inside will make everything worth it. Hm? Where do you keep essentials? Oh, front pants pocket and brest pocket nbd.

[firenati0n]

roop's first rwrb fics aka fics that left an impact aka fics that kicked off her rwrb fic love aka fics that make her heart go weeeoooweeeooo <3

hello! this list was quite literally revealed to me in a dream just now...which means now you all have to read it. happy holidays. a gift for you.

i read RWRB when it released, but started reading rwrb fics earlier this year during some tough titty times...and have since discovered a gorgeous community of folks just pouring their hearts out into the fandom fabric, giving me the courage to start putting bits of my work out there as well. here are some of the works that were present in my life at VERY roop-specific moments this year:

First fic I sent kudos to (i caved and made an ao3 after reading this one lmaoooo): With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes

First fic that forced me to send my first tumblr ask screaming directly at the author for my feelings: also With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes

First fic I bookmarked with the knowledge that this fic would destroy me: all that glitters (is not gold) by @indomitable-love

First fic I reread immediately after finishing like literally immediately: Going Platinum by @cricketnationrise

First fic I sent to someone not in the rwrb fandom but is a fan of the au so i schemed that this fic would suck them into the rwrb fandom and I was successful: Rogue's Gallery by @orchidscript

First fic(s) I sent to a boy as a bizarre mating ritual that actually worked: lifelines by @indomitable-love, Am I the Asshole? by @everwitch-magiks, and i ask you how you're doing (and i let you lie) by @matherines (his first fics, he loved them btw)

First fic that made me ugly cry not because it was inherently sad but because i achieved emotional catharsis i was not expecting: One Too Many Mornings by @orchidscript

First fic that made me CRY LAUGH until i was wheezing: and history remembered. by @sherryvalli

First fic that was a WIP I followed and screamed with each update: Cold Cases, Lost Causes by @tintagel-or-cockleshells

First fic that made me run laps around my room in sheer stress: Nova, Baby by @cha-melodius

First fic that made me run laps around my room in sheer thirst: Show Me What You're Working With by @clottedcreamfudge

First fic that made me giggle and kick my feet and blush: No Sense or Sensibility by @inexplicablymine

First fic that made me cry buckets in a costco parking lot: i ask you how you're doing (and i let you lie) by @matherines

First fic that made me learn something new about myself and patched up a crack in my heart: Down By The Water, I Saw You by @myheartalivewrites

First fic that taught me something I didn't know and had me doing a deep dive on wikipedia for 3 straight hours: Moonlighting by @orchidscript

First fic that had me writhing on the floor in absolute agony: What Do I Know? by @three-drink-amy

First fic that made me stare tearfully at a wall in quiet contemplation: Help Me Hold On to You by @affectionatelyrs

First fic that had me slamming subscribe to a series faster than I could say "kinktober": Temperature's Up, 'Bout to Erupt by @sparklepocalypse

First fic that opened my eyes to a whole new world of tags and also a new part of my brain: In His Wildest Dreams by @myheartalivewrites

First fic that made me feel such insane amounts of pining and yearning and longing that i had to take a walk: but if you could see us from a distance, you’d know i’ve always been so close to you by @anincompletelist

First fic that made me rethink my life while sitting in a DMV lobby waiting to renew my driver's license: Deep Blue by @myheartalivewrites

First fic that made me stay up all night to comment on each chapter as I read it in one sitting: Omakase by @orchidscript

First fic that I reread and live reacted to the author 3 hours before my dissertation was due instead of finishing the damn paper: to the victor, the spoils by @rmd-writes

First fic that made me feel incredibly homesick and had me looking up flights at 4am: after hours by @dumbpeachjuice

And finally... First fic I ever wrote after reading all of these incredible fics and wanting to also put a little piece of silly roop out into the world: our world, mine and his alone (the midnight train to go) by me :)

if you made it this far, thanks for reading. love you all. <3

xoxo roop

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round one of the major bracket

Propaganda:

For Nandor and Guillermo:

I feel like accessory to murder and cause of the murder counts, right? 

Classic vampire/human who wants to be a vampire except there's an understanding in the show of how messed up that is, down to Guillermo helping chop up the bodies of Nandor's victims to hide them for him. Then there's the added wrinkle of Guillermo finding out he's a vampire hunter by blood and actually very good at killing vampires. There is more than one incredibly erotically charged scene with Guillermo holding a stake to Nandor's chest. Their dynamic is fantastically complex, from Guillermo starting as Nandor's somewhat disgruntled servant to him besting the vampire in combat and becoming his bodyguard, to Guillermo getting tired of waiting and getting another vampire to turn him leading to a long jealousy arc culminating in Nandor nearly killing him... there's just so much going on with these two. Nandor flew to space just to impress Guillermo. They do a number of heinous things to humans and vampires alike, but through it all they are so in love and so rich with pining. One of these days they'll kiss, I'm sure of it. It's just a monumental slow burn with many vampiric atrocities along the way.

They aren't romantically canon yet, but dear lord. Both are canon queer, Guillermo is specifically gay while nandor is mentioned to be pansexual in interviews. Yeah they are everything and nothing. They fought and can kill eachother but they literally can't do it emotionally. Also forbidden love trope, vampire x vampire slayer /familiar/ body gaurd / best man. They make me unwell.

For John and Jack:

So, they both are literal murders. One of them is a little bit more insane than the other. Okay, the little bit part is not right, totally insane that is John, yes. But gonna love him though. He had been in rehab for alcohol, drugs, sex and murder. Don't kiss him, he might be wearing poisoning lipstick. They are canon mlm. They had been stuck in a two week time loop for five years, which was like leading a married life for them. They didn't actually marry, but they were partners, both in business and sexually. They worked together for an time agency. Then Jack's memories of two years were erased and he left. He went into  independent self deployment, doing scams using his knowledge of future events. After that he build an alien hunting institute in Cardiff, Wales. When John and Jack see eachother again after years, you don't know whether they will they kiss or fight. They do both. Did I tell you that along this story Jack became an inmortal who can't stay dead? No matter how or how often he dies or is killed, he keeps coming back to life. This is all very scraping on the surface, but oh boy, would it be at least a novella to describe them.

They worked together in the Time Agency where they did horrible things to the extent where Jack had two years of his memory stolen so that he couldn’t know what he’d done. They were also in a time loop together for five years where they canonically thought of each other as the wife (John was a good wife :3), and were basically married. Then they had a divorce arc and they both separately went rogue from the Agency to become conmen, although they still worked together/clashed on occasions, always still with that spark of passion. “Frenemies with benefits” Jack called them once, although John preferred “my lover, my rival, my nemesis and destiny. And bane of my bloody life.” Canon finds us where Jack has tried to reform and be a better person, but John is still chasing cons, and all he wants to do is bring Jack back to the stars with him, back to the crime and the glitter of the galaxies (it doesn’t work and he shoves Jack off a building but Jack got himself immortal so he’s fine <3) anyway I am very normal about them xoxo

In John's introduction to the series he shows up on a roof where some guy is mugging someone, grabs him by the throat and dangles him over the edge of the building while this guy begs for his life before dropping him just because he felt like it. When John and Jack interact for the first time in the show there's a super cool guitar riff, very evil western vibes, they walk up to each other, look deeply into each other's eyes, make out, then start throwing punches to Blur's Song 2. In one of the audio dramas we're told about various times where these two conned people, stole a bunch of money and gold and gems and stuff, then had sex with whoever it is they conned before (sometimes) killing them. When Jack devided he was done and left John to die John escaped and married the queen of England (Victoria) then locked Jack up somewhere to take his life force and live forever, destroying the timeline in the process. John has tried to kill all of Jack's friends at least twice to have him all to himself. He found Jack's long lost brother and when the brother turned out to be a terrible person with a vendetta against Jack John did everything he could to save Jack. Their relationship is canon but very one-sided most of the time

just this video

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

whoops had a dream about this au where sonic.exe was there for some reason and doodled them again. some notes:

sorta vaguely still takes place in the sonic universe just very au. the main divergence is both shadow and maria escaped the ark, lived in hiding for a long time, and while shadow eventually obviously got in touch with his relatives (since eggman is dumping his kids on him) but he faked maria's death after the Portal Incident. so like vaguely the sonic plot is going on in the background but stuff like sonic adventure 2 never happened and characters like rouge and shadow never really got involved with stuff.

sage and metal obviously aren’t twins, but they’re both vaguely on the level of 11-12 year olds. metal isn’t really past the mental state she was created at bc she was neglected so much, sage is only a few months old but she had to mature too quick bc. look at her father and her sister.

sage is generally the more rational of the two (bc she isn’t instantly killing people bc she’s bored mostly), though she's absolutely not as cold and logical as she appears. she's very driven to be “useful”, because she’s terrified that she’s been abandoned and that she wasn’t “good enough” and she doesn’t want to lose the few things she still has, which drives her into her intense investigation of anything abnormal she can find. her lil hat has a sage on it 💚

metal is. metal. she's a tiny whirlwind of anger and hate. she's the emotional sister, but not in the excited and enthusiastic sense she’s just extremely messed up emotionally and reacts with violence towards the slightest provocation. she does open up a bit after time with someone who treats her as a person (which makes her become extremely clingy towards shadow which he’s. concerned about) but even when out of her shell a bit her joy is violence. she's recently realised she’s a girl and is experimenting by going full 12 year old girly girl bc she hasn’t realised she’s a goth yet (and is honestly kind of having fun with glitter and sequins, especially after she learnt you can take peoples eyes out with them, but she will Not admit it ever)

shadow is fucking Concerned bc like. all he knows about these two at first is that they’re his nephew who’s trying to take over the world or somethings kids and he doesn’t want to have to deal with robot invasions into his town bc he’s fucking tired of life. he did Not expect the two most traumatised robot kids known to man. he’s still laying low in a small town where interpol won’t find him, but he’s aimless as shit and has like 0 friends. his protectiveness over maria lead to the argument that caused the Portal Incident, and in his guilt he’s lost sight of what he once promised in a singleminded quest to get her back. yes he runs a scam ass tourist trap. he hates every second of it it’s just good business when ur kind of a passive beacon of chaos energy and you cannot avoid weird shit.

maria robotnik inherited the genius in most of her family and wanted to use it for good, but due to her nids she knew her time was running out. blood transfusions from shadow kept her alive as an emergency treatment, but as her disease progressed she sunk more and more into her research and eventually felt like she was trapped and unable to spread her inventions before she passed, leading to her and shadow's falling out. also demon consorting. she managed to find a somewhat of a cure after the Portal Incident but at a high price, she still suffers with the majority of symptoms even worse than before and is very sickly and weak but won’t die from it progressing. she’s grown rather jaded and bitter, a far cry from her innocent self as a child, but she’s still optimistic and wants to help the world. starting with the murder children her lil baby cousin ivo built for some reason what the fuck she is getting those two therapy immediately.

since sonic adventure 2 never happened rogue never ended up involved in the plot but she did eventually meet shadow anyway, when she was still a teenager looking for gems Very Illegally (shadow gives off the same readings as a chaos emerald, unfortunately for her). he's kind of become a very grumpy mentor figure to her bc she still hangs out around him bc she finds him very funny to tease when she’s not out stealing gems. sage finds her cool (and has a bit of a crush, but she’s unaware bc she doesn’t really know about romance let alone lesbianism) and she lets metal stab things if he gives her jewellery to make her look the other way, so she kind of ends up becoming a cool older friend to the robotnik sisters tho she does think they’re kind of weird.

sonic.exe is here bc it’s funny for him to be bill and that’s the only reason. but that aside he's a demon fucking around before he implements his plan to turn the world into his playground. he's barely more mature than the siblings, roughly on the same level as a teenager (which was also the age maria was when she did her consorting with demons) but he’s also completely sadistic and an absolute asshole (which… is kind of true for metal too but she's vaguely developing a moral compass and a sense of humanity after having a semi decent guardian) and likes hurting people for fun. his form is edgy sonic bc he takes the form of something his targets recognise to fuck with them.

big literally just lives here. he moved back in after adventure 1. he's literally just chilling. good for him.

[dullgecko]

Some Gukgak headcanons ^^

1) Riz has near-daily headaches from hitting the cliff stairway at the end of Sping Break.

2) He likes to hide in the Bad Kids' lockers occasionally and will attempt to jumpscare them when they open the door.

-on occasion he falls asleep in them, much like he does when he's in their backpacks.

-he also rigged Fabain's once to spray him in glitter. Instead of being mad, Fabian made no intention of cleaning up and waltzed around coated in pink and gold glitter for the rest of the day.

-he accidentally jumpscared a young student who mixed up her and Adaine's lockers, leading most of the freshman to be absolutely terrified of the resident Oracle and the goblin that they presume is just paid to live in her locker and protect her stuff.

3) While he isn't the best at cooking, he did it a lot when Sklonda had irregular shifts and couldn't be home for dinner. One day in middle school he learned that his mom's favorite comfort food was mac-and-cheese, so he mastered the recipe and makes the arguably best mac-and-cheese in Elmville. (After the end freshman year, he began to add a "mystery meat" to his recipe. No one except the Bad Kids and Sklonda seem to know what kind it is.)

4) Despite being traumatized from Kalina, Riz LOVES cats. A lot of strays hang out near Strongtower, so he often goes out to feed them.

5) He draws backgrounds. Like, a lot. From the school campus to Farhaven Woods to the little dining area of Basrar's. He isn't even passionate about art, it's just a passtime. Fig and Gorgug, who love to draw but can't draw backgrounds to save their lives, are constantly pestering him about it, but Riz always denies that he draws well, or tries to teach them and fails spectacularly.

That's all I got. Sorry if it's a lot XD

He doesnt mention the headaches to anyone, just takes painkillers and tries to move on with his day. Adaine is the one who notices that he has a bottle of headache tablets in his locker and another in his office and that its a new one practically every other week and gets concerned. She convinces him to go to the school nurse to get it checked out because he's been healed several times between when it first started and now and obviously that didnt fix the problem.

2)

Riz gets extra credit in his rogue classes for breaking into places without being detected. Lockers are a good way to meet the requirement because he has to relock them somehow from the inside for no one to notice he's in there. Trap setting is also an extra credit so sometimes he does both at once.

He'll purposefully take a nap in one if he knows his friends arent carrying a bag big enough for him to hide in that day. He knows they'll have to swing past his locker eventually and will wake him up for his next class.

3)

Mmmm, delicious dragon meat mac and cheese. Sadly, despite how good it was, the mystery meat leftovers only lasted a few weeks.

4)

He likes cats a lot. They're soft and cute and aren't freaked out by his claws. Plus they purr just like him when you scratch the right spot between their ears. Dogs he's a little wary of though, especially the bigger ones. They dont seem to like goblins very much.

5)

Riz taught himself to draw backgrounds just in case he ever saw a crime scene and wasnt able to pull out a camera without getting stopped. He's really good at sketching them out quickly and can hold onto the small details for a fairly long time in order to add them in later.

[stratocumulusperlucidus]

WIP REC

I love love love reading WIPs, the anticipation, the excitement of getting the notification for a new chapter, even sometimes the cliffhangers... So here are some of the lovely fics I'm currently reading!

Oh and if you read these, please consider taking a minute to leave a comment, let the author know you appreciate their work 💖

This Is More of a Comment Than a Question by @caterpills

Rating: Mature | Chapters: 3/10

Three weeks before Henry Fox's tour for his fourth, highly anticipated, awards-bait novel A Brief War in December begins, his publicist Janella breaks her foot on a bunny slope at Windham. Alex can't be mad at her, even though he kind of is. Saying it out loud would be like kicking her when she was down, and she already went down a literal mountain in the worst way possible. Now crammed in Rafael Luna's corner office, Janella is shooting Alex extremely apologetic looks while slumped on her crutches, wearing a bright orange cast. The conversation about who is going to be joining Henry Fox on his multi-city trek across the U.S. is also going downhill. Alex is feeling the same sort of free fall while standing still. Because out of all the publicists available in their tiny underfunded department, the only one left to escort their company's best-selling author is regrettably him. The problem is, well, Alex absolutely hates Henry Fox.

Or: Alex is the publicist for Mountchristen Publishers, and is stuck on a two-week tour with their best-selling, but frustrating, author Henry Fox.

Her Royal Highness by @tailsbeth-writes

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 5/?

'Shaan, can you please put an appointment in my diary?' 'Certainly sir, what is it for?' 'A reminder to kill Alex for getting me into this mess.' Shaan tried to hold back a smirk as he stepped back, tapping away on his tablet. 'Personally I think the blue glitter really brings out your eyes, sir.' This terrible idea had started like most of Alex’s did, a seedling planted by the most chaotic of the chaos demons; Nora.

or How Prince Henry ended up as a guest judge on RuPaul's Drag Race UK.

the full spectrum of human emotion by @firenati0n

Rating: Mature | Chapters: 3/6

Alex grips his hand tighter. They’re going to need to have a long, hard conversation in the next five minutes, or else Alex is going to combust right here in Pez’s fancy office. Explode for all of Midtown Manhattan to see. Here lies what remains of Alex, for all the world to witness—taken out by a rogue marriage proposal from his evil boss-turned-fiancé.

Or: Working under editor Henry Fox-Mountchristen was only supposed to be Step One in Alex’s plan of achieving his big dreams—but when his boss winds up facing an even bigger problem, potential deportation, Alex finds he isn’t just a beleaguered assistant anymore. He’s the solution.

It’s fine. They only have to fool his friends, his family, the United States Government…and themselves.

Life Is Not A Movie (But We Can Have The Fairytale) by @lfg1986-2

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 3/?

Three years after the smashing success of the first Red, White and Royal Blue film, Nicholas and Taylor are preparing to return to their roles as Henry and Alex to film the sequel. After a late night of catching up with each other and reestablishing their close bond just before rehearsals begin, they wake up to find themselves in a crazy twist of fate, where fiction blends with reality and the lines between fictional characters and the actors who portray them become irrevocably blurred.

Or

What happens when Taylor is transported into the movie universe and comes face to face with Prince Henry, while Nick wakes up to find Alex Claremont-Diaz in his living room in the place of his friend and costar? Both pairs must work together to figure out how to get themselves back where they belong, and along the way they discover some things about themselves and each other that has the potential to alter their relationships forever.

take me back to San Francisco by headabovethewater / @getmehighonmagic

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 2/8

“You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” a soft voice suddenly startles him from his thoughts. Henry’s entire body jerks and he spills some of his drink down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, bloody-” He leans over to put his drink on the table and starts wiping at his shirt. “No, I’m- It’s not that, it’s-” He glances fleetingly at the stranger and then down at his shirt again, before his brain finally registers that oh, glasses, dark curls, white smile, exposed chest. Henry’s head snaps back up and his lips part in astonishment. Handsome doesn’t even begin to cover it. Him.

“Hi,” the man says, then chuckles. He hands Henry a napkin and gestures towards one of the other chairs at the table. “Would you mind?”

or, Henry and Alex meet on vacation in San Francisco and an instant spark between them has both of them unable to let the other go. With only two weeks to spend together and the knowledge that it can't last beyond that, it's just a massive, insurmountable recipe for disaster.

Or is it?

Unattended / Unsent mails by amnesia_on_ice / @amnesiaa-on-ice

Rating: General Audiences | Chapters: 4/?

Alex is a Singer Songwriter, henry is his arch nemesis Actor but also secretively writer. There is a long running feud between Henry and Alex. Now they are meeting for the first time in person in a vanity after party and the stan twitter have lots to digest of the meeting.

The story of Unattended/ unsent mails.

the drag of your lips by rizcriz

Rating: Mature | Chapter 2/3

Alex isn’t sure how he got here.

Here being pressed into the couch, his roommate straddling his lap and warm against every point they’re touching, soft lips moving against his own in the most sensual, leisurely pattern that Alex’s fingers instinctively flex where they’re clinging into his lower back. He’s hard in his pants, straining towards Henry, but there’s no desperate hands grasping, no drive to take this any further.

Or, Alex just really wants to make out with someone. Henry helpfully volunteers.

Foxden Park by myheartalive / @myheartalivewrites

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 4/9

“Yes, Alex, what a terrible destiny,” Nora says. “To be hosted for a week by all these charming rich people, who have bent over backwards to accommodate us, including sending their own carriage into town to fetch us. How very dare we drag you into their nefarious scheme.”

—

Invited to a week-long house party at the Duke of Windsor’s country residence, Alex Claremont-Diaz does not expect to find anything to enjoy about his time there. What he does find is Lord Henry, the duke’s younger brother—and a boatload of things to learn about himself.

Seven days in the country in a duke's house. What could possibly happen?

[fic--writer]

Lollipop

Rolan is too addicted on his magic lollipops. Tav decides to take a risk and exploit this.

Warnings: NSFW! Addicted, Dominance and Submission, Smut.

Additional: a must read if you like tormenting the Archmage as much as I do. Generally the D/S genre isn't my thing, but I had a f*cking dream about this idea. I woke up laughing and couldn't help but write this. Enjoy.

Part 1/3 Part 2/3 Part 3/3 soon

Rolan took the opaque jar. When he didn't hear the familiar rustle of sweets inside, he didn't immediately believe what was happening. He shook the jar properly, then harder, but only a deafening silence echoed back, increasing his alarm.

In his haste he tore off the lid with his claws and tossed it aside. Yes, he was right - the jar was empty. Although he definitely remembered that there was still one more lollipop left there. His favourite, the magic lolly. The one he always enjoyed when work got hard.

Everyone in the tower knew very well that taking the Archmage's sweets, especially without permission, was not only dangerous to one's health, but also to one's life. Everyone in the tower remembered what had happened to the unfortunate elf who had made that mistake.

Everyone knew about it. And yet someone had the nerve to steal his lolly. The last one! Well, who would dare to do such audacity?! Only one creature in the whole damn tower could have the audacity to do such a thing. Only one:

“Taaaaaav!!!”

Rolan screamed at the top of his lungs. His howl shook every wall in the building. He knew that there was no need for an investigation or a detective here. He knew that for sure. Only she was the one who kept looking at his satisfied face when he hid a lolly bar behind his cheek. Besides, Tav was a real rogue - mischievous and unceremonious. She had no sense of propriety or manners. Why would a thief need them? And why had he invited her to work with him...

The Archmage's blood boiled and he sprinted. He ran like a young trotter, sweeping everything in his path with his tail. He looked into every room in search of Tav, and woe betide anyone who got in his way. Rolan pushed, shoved and knocked down every unfortunate creature.

He found her in a small pantry. Tav was standing with his back to him, rearrange, or rather pretending to rearrange, at a supply of parchment on one of the shelves.

"Tav! Look at me" - the Archmage shouted, unable to contain his anger.

She turned slowly, and Rolan's world shrank to a single point. His suspicions were justified. Tav looked him straight in the eye and he heard a crackling sound from her mouth. It was the sound of the lollipop rolling from side to side as it hit her teeth. The lollipop was missing the wand that had penetrated it, Tav had probably just disposed of it ruthlessly.

But what happened next didn't just send Rolan into a violent insanity; this caused a storm of rage in him, comparable, perhaps, to the most destructive power of a volcano.

Tav stuck out her tongue, a red lolly glittering at the tip:

"Have you lost this?" - she said with the intonation of a daring little devil.

"Lost it? You stole it from me! You sneaky bitch, I gave you shelter, I gave you a job..." - Rolan spat out each word as he approached her and rolled up his sleeves.

"Wow, and I saved your red arse from impending doom, or have you forgotten? Choose your expressions."

"You know you're being extremely unwise, don't you? Oh, you probably know that."

He moved close to Tav and grabbed her cheeks, squeezing them with his claws:

"Spit it out now. Be an obedient dog. Return the stolen and maybe you'll stay in one piece."

Why, you may ask, was the Archimage so concerned about a some lollipops? Because they were not ordinary sweets, but magical ones. And only one merchant, almost from the Far Far Away Realm, agreed to supply them to Baldur's Gate from time to time.

Rolan first discovered them in one of the Tower's warehouses, and immediately tried them. The magic of these lollipops was that they could adapt to the needs and moods of the consumer. Perhaps it was a trait of the Tieflings or something else, but Rolan was instantly addicted to them. And now he was paying the price of sixteen rare old folios for one of these little jars. But that did not bother him. The effect they had on him - the ultimate pleasure and explosion of endorphins - was worth every gold, he thought.

"No, that won't do" - Tav muttered, her lips pressed together, "let's play a game and then we'll see."

"Excuse me? How about I hit you with a thunderwave, right here, and just take what's mine?" - Rolan shook her harder and harder, - "Hey! Don't you dare swallow that!"

"Oh no, the The Archmage will not do that. You'd kill or maim me for some stupid candy? Me, the saviour of Baldur's Gate and legend of the Sword Coast? Ha-ha! No, you would never do that, Rolan. Would you? You care so much about your... reputation." - She laughed gruntingly and slapped his hands, struggling.

"I don't care about reputation when it comes to..."

"It comes to what? To your little secret? To your addiction? You know nothing escapes my hawkish gaze."

"Zurgan! When it comes to property rights and basic rules of decency. Civility! Have you heard of it?" - The Archmage's nostrils flared as he jabbed at her with the index finger of his right hand, the other still shake her.

"So remind me, what was it about the rule that made you master of this Ramazite tower?"

Rolan released her abruptly and tapped his horns with claws, a thud sounded. It was the same sound of fingers tapping on a table as they pondered. Sometimes she was unbearable.

He was certain that she had Trickster blood in her veins. One of her distant ancestors had undoubtedly been something more than a mediocre rogue. How else to explain her complete disregard for any rules of conduct in the pursuit of mischief? She manipulated him, she blackmailed him, she used every means of influence at her disposal. Not for nothing had she reminded him that she had saved him and that he had the Tower because of her. Of course, he still had respect for Tav, despite her obnoxious behaviour and endless pressure.

No wonder she had become so close to Astarion in her time. With that amoral vampire with no vector of direction...

"What do you want from me, Tav? What is it this time?" - Rolan pulled himself together as best he could and tried to concentrate, suppressing the urges of his nature. As much as he wanted to outwit she, he knew he would lose this battle. And then he would have nothing to gain.

"Good decision, you see, sometimes you are capable of constructive dialogue after all. Like I said, I want to play a game with you," - Tav straightened and shook himself off.

"Pfft, childish. What shall i do, solve riddles?"

"No, that would be too easy for a prodigy like you. I will ask you to perform actions of a ... various nature. And you'll be an obedient boy. If I see you trying, I'll reward you. And if not, you know, it's not infinite..." - Tav began to suck the lollipop more intensely, clearly demonstrating what would happen.

"Of various nature?" - the Archmage's face crumpled as he imagined the shameful scenes, and the lines on the bridge of his nose became clearly visible. - "Tav, are you sure the worm hasn't damaged your brain? Because..."

"Hey. Hush you, we're playing this game by my rules. Risk insulting me again and you'll end up with a nothing. And if you want the prize, you pay."

"Okay! Come on, speak up faster!" - It was becoming unbearable for him to be around the 'treat' that was so close, but not his. It was like an itch, painfully tickling his insides.

"Good boy! But why aren't you talking to me on your knees? Correct yourself and apologize for all the nasty things you said to me." - the smirk never left Tav's face as she gave the first command.

What an impertinent creature, Rolan thought, but reluctantly knelt before her:

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry? Wow, look at that, the proud mage apologising for the first time. It's not bad. But I respect the spectacularity. Is that any way to apologise to a lady?" - She held out her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Forgive me, Tav, for all I have said to you today." - The Archmage took her hand and kissed it.

"You apologise, but only for today? What happened to the prodigy's memory? And speak to me with respect! I'm your Mistress, not Tav!" - she was definitely getting turned on by this game, she was getting into character and had no intention of stopping.

Rolan glared at her angrily, but obeyed:

"Will my Mistress be so kind as to forgive me for all the unjust words I have spoken to her?" - he kissed her palm once more and gently tapped it against his forehead.

"That's better. Now it's time to show you what happens to obedient toys," - Tav licked her finger sensuously and leisurely and brought it up to the Archmage's face.

Rolan smelled the saliva soaked in the flavour of the magic lolly and was immediately disturbed. He shoved all his ego up his red arse and grabbed her finger in a frenzy, shoving it all the way into his mouth and sucking and swallowing it deliciously, trying not to hurt it with his tiefling fangs.

"Um, I didn't know how much you needed that. Hey, hey, take it easy! If you bite my finger off, the deal's off. Don't be so greedy, remember!"

Rolan licked and smacked for another half minute, forgetting any squeamishness as she tore her finger from him.

"Aren't you forgetting something, kitten? Courtesy? Civility?" - Tav clarified ironically.

"Thank you, my generous Mistress" - he murmured.

Rolan appreciated the treat he was being offered, he saw that cooperation paid off and he was not so intransigent anymore. Of course, Tav took this into account immediately. She realised that she could now manipulate him like her obedient puppet.

^Pardon my punctuation skills. I still suck at it.

[peachtinzz]

very brief dnd au musings because the rot consumes and all that

elaboration below the cut!

i thought gerry as an unaware sorcerer could be neat, only fully coming into his power after the eye “recognizes” him as an avatar. the draconic bloodline sorcerer typing is because im kind of in love with the idea of the fears as dragons …. perhaps not on an entirely physical level but i like the idea of them presenting as dragons at least. also eric is the tiefling and mary is the elf!

i also think gerry would lean away from tapping into that bloodline magic as much as possible, preferring to use his skills as a rogue and learned arcane trickster magic since it’s something he himself earned and doesn’t require the use of the eye’s power. though that bloodline magic would for sure bleed into his arcane trickster abilities. some kind of visual signifier for that would be neat but im not entirely sure what it would be yet (probably eye tattoos lighting up or smthn, but i also think those as a general arcane focus could be cool also). his cantrips would be mage hand, lightning lure, minor illusion, and green flame blade (lvl 10+)!

i initially struggled with michael’s race and class but eventually decided on him being a firbolg for the giant ancestry (tall freaking guy) and motm describing firbolg magic as “the obscuring sort”, which reminded me of how people usually see michael as marked by the lonely! he also just has inherent fey vibes to me. not entirely sold on scribes wizard for him but it seemed the most fitting class/subclass for him. i had initially thought about him being a cleric, but he doesn’t have enough religious boy vibes for me personally to make him one (though if he were to be one i think he’d be a peace domain cleric). scribes felt fitting enough for the institute, and none of the wizard schools felt like vibes enough for him either. overall though i think he’d be a support based caster with the message, prestidigitation, light, gust (lvl 5+), and toll the dead (lvl 13+) cantrips

the magic colors/smells are just a personal thing for me! i love it when magic is sensory. to be specific, i think gerry would have a deeper olivey green pre eye avatar recognition that turns classic magnus green afterwards. michael would have a coral pink sort of color that glitters gold!

may or may not make full designs for them at some point or designs for other characters, who knows

[alphabetboyluvr]

BAD DECISIONS - JJK | FOURTEEN

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours. "Hey, Byeol?" "Mhmm?" "You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

Bad Decision #14 - New Rules

warnings: jungkook incorrectly does a bird!!! byeols bird is unhinged!! smut - fingering!! oc hasn't shaved and jk simply prefers it that way! no kissing rule established (boo), no pet names rule established (double boo), no hand holding either!!!! jk has a huge boner <3 f receiving, nothing for him!!! rules are rules!!! mirrors <3 jk is always so chatty he he , mild hand kink?

soundtrack: nonsense - sabrina carpenter; wrong- zayn, kehlani

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 450k (on-going)

minors dni | 

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver. |  SMUT INDEX

"Hey," you greet Jungkook with a coy smile by your apartment door. He smiles back. Tells you that you look like shit. Is definitely lying. 

The way he looks you up and down gives it away.

Your hair is up in a claw clip, still a little uneven in colour because you don't want to put it through even more torture. A slouchy white shirt hangs off your left shoulder, and a pair of dark leggings hug your legs. It's casual. Comfy. Still got glitter on your eyes, as always.

Jungkook can't remember if you've had a discussion about yoga leggings, and how they've got a track record of giving him boners in record speed.

You haven't. You're just aware your ass looks fairly good in them. Not like it matters. Not like you need him to think your ass looks good. No, nothing like that at all.

You also haven't started a daily squat challenge. That would be immature. Flirting with danger. And even if you had, it would be incredibly stupid to leave the chart up on the kitchen fridge - which is where you beeline after you leave the door open for him. 

You don't bother inviting him in, mind you. He knows he's welcome. Not because he's been there a thousand times over, nor because it's where you usually spend time together, but because the apartment is yours. He's welcome in your space.

But he is incredibly early - and you tell him as such when you curl up on the couch, tucking the piece of paper you'd swiped from the fridge door beneath a stack of magazines. Jungkook takes the spot next to you, despite the fact there are plenty of other places for him to sit instead. Part of you is tempted to kick him off.

The rest of you, though? So incredibly glad to have him close again.

"Danbi's class runs for another half an hour," you tell him as you scroll through the Netflix landing page.

It's a Monday, and neither of you have been at work today. The perks of your schedules aligning mean that Monday is always a safe bet, but you'd been in desperate need of alone time. The past few weeks have exhausted your social battery.

Jungkook gets like that sometimes, too - but he also doesn't like spending too much time in his own head, and so when a text from you had pinged through earlier that afternoon asking if he wanted to hang out, he replied almost immediately.

It's been a week. Over a week, actually. It's the first time he's seen you since you left his apartment. There's been no real discussion of what happened. A few 'i've seen your tits lol' texts here and there, but nothing that really qualifies as a grown-up conversation. You think you like it better this way; prefer the ominous unknown of the impact such a venture has had on your friendship. 

For the most part, it seems like it's had minimal impact. None of which you can recognise straight off the bat, at least. Maybe he's a little more comfortable now than he once was, but you can't really tell. Not entirely. 

Thing is, he always seemed comfortable before. There's never really been a need for boundaries. They came and went naturally. 

Perhaps that's your problem: you got far too relaxed far too quickly.

And yet you keep a little distance. Who cares if he's seen your tits? God forbid you sit too close to one another.

"Class?" He questions, not realising Danbi was still studying.

She isn't. It's just her hobby. Something she does to unwind after spending all day chasing after unruly dogs.

You nod, eyes still on the screen, looking for something mindless to put on. He's here for the second installment of your Deadpool marathon, so you don't want to put anything worthy of investment on. 

"Pole."

"Pole as in..." he says slowly, not sure of the correct term, so you help him out.

"As in pole dancing," you confirm. "She's been doing it for a while. Keeps trying to get me to join."

Jungkook doesn't look at you as he smirks, his eyes now also focused on the Netflix loading screen. "You? Pole dancing?"

There's a jovial glint in his eye, as if he thinks it's the funniest thing he's heard all afternoon. If you were to say that, he'd tell you that you're wrong. It's the funniest thing he's heard all day.

"Hey!" You kick your leg out to tap him, but he stops it before you can reach him. Squeezes his hand ever so gently around your foot. Pushes it back towards you, and holds it down. "I could be good at pole!"

He looks over to you now. "Byeol, I've seen you after twenty minutes on a treadmill. You don't have the stamina."

The smile on his lips would make it seem like he's joking - but he has seen you on a treadmill after twenty minutes. He's absolutely telling what he deems to be the truth, and the offence you take only makes him smile even more.

"Don't-" you halt your words to utter a shriek of disbelief. "Don't have the stamina? Fuck you."

"Nah," he grins. "You wouldn't have the stamina to handle me."

The conversation remains steady; a flirt between friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It's easy. Casual. 

And when Danbi gets home, it doesn't change. Oh so incredibly easy. Jungkook fits into the life you've carved out for yourself, almost like there was a nook waiting just for him. 

Pizza is ordered. Deadpool is played. Ryan Reynolds' ass in lycra is praised. Everything is as it should be.

When it hits midnight, and Danbi is already tucked up in bed, Jungkook makes his excuses. Gears up to leave. Mentions the fact he's got the gym in the morning. Can't be out too late.

The part of you that considers telling him to stay is quiet. Instead, you just nod and agree. 

"It's a miracle you're still able to have a decent sleeping pattern," you say as you walk him to the door. "I'd be exhausted all the time."

He doesn't tell you, but he is. Really could have done with an evening to himself. Uni is ramping up, and he's worried he's gonna fall behind on his coursework already.

It's why he's pretty much radio silent for the week that follows.

Until, all of a sudden, he's not.

Jungkook: DB. 

You: That's no better than disco ball.

Jungkook: It's better than BD.

You: ...Ball disco?

Jungkook: Big Ditties.

You: Oh my god.

You: I'm blocking you.

Jungkook: No you're not. Come hang out. 

Jungkook: Coursework is driving me insane.

Jungkook: Need a distraction.

You: Good. Hope it does <3

Jungkook: :( comeee.

You: No :) x

You arrive a little after ten. 

Jungkook is in sweats and a T-shirt, beyond the point of caring to dress up in your presence. Your dynamic is well-established by now; comfort found in the confines of your time spent together. He's got a buttered slice of toast in one hand, a dusting of crumbs detailing the tips of his fingers like the glitter on the inner corners of your eyes. He'd burnt it. You can tell by the scent that lingers in the air, and the knife marks near the crusts where he'd tried to scrape it off. 

He grins, in that stupid kind of lopsided way he always does whenever he gets his way. 

"Thought you said you weren't coming?"

Your lips are pursed, annoyance written along the line of your frown. The ink is water-soluble, though. One bite down on your bottom lip and it washes away. "I'm here to see the children."

He stands to the side. Opens the door just a little bit wider. "It's about time. They were about to report you to child protective services."

"Oh, yeah?" You encourage his teasing as you step over the threshold. 

"Uh-huh," he continues as he bites down on the toast. It crunches beneath his teeth, but doesn't stop him from talking. "Negligent mother, they said - shoes off -" he interrupts himself when you point to your feet. "Take them to my room though."

It's curious, the way he's still keeping you hidden. The only reason for them to not be in the hallway is to stop Jimin from asking questions when he arrives home. 

If you knew the grilling Jungkook's been getting ever since that evening Jimin nearly walked in on the pair of you, you'd understand. It's far easier for Jungkook if he gives his housemate as little ammunition to tease him with as he can. 

But Jimin's not home. He's in Busan for the weekend.

Jungkook doesn't tell you this. He's not sure why. Part of him doesn't want to talk about Jimin with you. It's stupid, he'll admit, but he likes being your friend. Likes you being his friend. Doesn't like Jimin having one up on him.

He thinks it would be the same if he had a sister. That kind of protective nature.

But he's also seen you naked. Knows that he really can't kid himself into thinking it's entirely platonic. Is kind of confused by it all.

Just knows that he likes the way things are. Doesn't want them to change.

And so he doesn't mention Jimin.

When you enter his room, shoes tossed by his desk, you clamber up onto his bed and take a seat. There's no protest from him, no sign of it being an unwanted intrusion on his space. His sheets have been changed since your last visit, gold acrylic immediately washed away the morning after.

He takes a perch on his desk chair, swinging it around to face you. You're lit only by the lamp of his bedside table and the glow of the city coming in through his curtains. The warmth of the light makes your glitter look like crackling embers burning through the night skies. 

"So," you say, all very matter of a fact. There's a demure nature to your poise. It's not very 'you'. "You requested my company?" 

He nods.

"Why?"

He spins in his chair to his desk, and picks up a bird. Reads it aloud. "Invite a girl over."

You look at him for a moment, and purse your lips. He's an idiot.

"We both know that this isn't what that means."

"Why not?" He says as if he's genuinely without a clue. 

"Because!" 

You don't elaborate. Think there's no need. He knows exactly why not - but he's an insolent little fucker when he wants to be. 

"No, because what, Byeol?" He says with a grin. He knows you're right. Doesn't care.

"Because," you emphasise. "We both know that inviting a girl over is so much more than just a simple act of asking her to come round. There are layers to it. Innuendo. It's like asking if she wants ramyeon, Kook. You know this."

There's a grin on his lips that he's trying to hide - and is failing miserably. 

"The bird says-"

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "It doesn't matter what the bird says. You know what it means."

"Yeah," he feigns innocence to his misdemeanour, eyes all wide and watery. So deep brown in colour it feels like a black hole is just sucking you in. Will never let you leave. God help the next girl who falls in love with him. "It means that I have to invite a girl to my place." He gestures towards you. Shakes his head. "You are a girl, no?"

"You've seen my tits, no?"

"You can't use tits as a qualifier," he tells you. "Not when you insist I also have tits."

"Touche - but still. It doesn't matter if I'm a girl. I'm not a girl girl."

"What does that even mean?" He scoffs, but he knows what you mean. Knows that the risk of rejection from you isn't the same as it is with a random girl. Knows that you're an exception. Not the rule.

"Like, a romantic interest," you say, well-aware he doesn't need it explaining. You just think you need to say it for your own sake. "I'm a friend. It doesn't say invite a friend round, does it?"

"Okay, but it doesn't not say that, does it?"

You're stern as you stare him down. "Jungkook."

"Byeol," he replies with a grin so cheeky it's impossible to remain poised. 

You roll your eyes. Lie down. Wave your arm in the air. "C'mere."

He doesn't relent. Doesn't say no. Just stands. Walks to his bed, and flops down beside you. 

"Gimmie your phone," you say, but he refuses. "Don't be a pussy."

"I'm not. You're just not getting my phone."

You sit up. Rest on your elbow and look down at him. His eyes are closed. "Why not?"

"Because."

There's a smile tickling your lips. He's imitating you - but he also doesn't feel like explaining. Doesn't feel like trying to find a valid reason beyond 'I'm scared'.

"What happened to facing your fears, huh?" You poke his cheek. "You gonna be a coward? How is that gonna help you?"

"Byeol," he whines, tilting his head to avoid your continued poking. It's annoying, and deliberate. You want him frustrated. Want him proactive. Want him a little riled up. "Stop."

You don't. 

"Byeol."

"I'll stop when you stop being a baby," you tell him, poking at his other cheek. Your finger travels all over his face, poking and prodding, ignoring the way he bats you away.

"Stop."

"You stop."

"Byeol."

And still, you don't. At least not until his fingers clasp around your wrist, holding it far away from his face.

"I said stop," he says with a voice so low it's almost a growl. His eyes are still closed. He pulls your hand to his chest. Holds it there. Is vaguely aware of the fact he's drawn you closer. Had almost made you lose your balance entirely. 

It's not until you speak that he realises quite how close you actually are. Hears how quiet you are, too. 

"And I told you to stop being a baby."

He opens his eyes. Takes you in. You're resting on his chest, thanks to his grip on your wrist and where he's positioned it. Neither of you seem to remember the concept of breathing.

You're close. Closer than he intended. So close he could probably count every single speck of glitter on the inner corner of your eyes. So fucking close. He thinks of the last time you were this close. 

Also thinks of the fact he's now wearing sweats, and really shouldn't be thinking about you naked. Not again. 

But he is, though it's not your body he's thinking of; it's your eyes, and the glitter that had been caught in your lashes beneath the water of his shower. How you'd glistened. And then fuck it, he's thinking of the way you showed him your fingers, all dainty and pretty, covered in your own-

"Fuck," you hiss in surprise, breaking from his gaze. His eyes fall to his chest, where the culprit of the interruption lies. 

Another bird; resting pretty just below his ribs. It moves, up and down, with the contractions of his lungs. Jungkook looks to you, then back to the bird. You sit up straighter and pinch it from his chest. He just lets you, because he doesn't wanna be the one to do it. 

He can tell from the wing shape alone that it's one of yours - and even if he couldn't, the way you groan and let your body fall onto his in defeat is a clear sign. He laughs. Strokes his hand up your arm, then ruffles at your hair.

"How bad is it this time?"

You just whine again. 

"That bad?"

Nodding into his chest, you hold out the bird for him to take. Only once his chest begins to stutter beneath you, laughter taking hold of his lungs, do you sit up.

"Stop," you tell him, pouting. 

He doesn't stop laughing. Serves you right for not listening to him earlier. "Christ, Byeol. Are any of these birds-"

"No," you cut him off before he can finish. 

He sighs. Looks up at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Holds the bird to his chest.

"Let's think about this logically first," he says, because it's the only way he can think to not let things get out of hand again like he did last time. "Let's talk about it before we do it instead of after."

You nod. Take a deep breath. "Okay. What are you thinking?"

He looks at you and then back up at the birds. Scrunches his face up. 

"I'm thinking... Fuck, alright, I'll be honest. I haven't done..." he trails off, cringing at himself. "Since my ex - although, technically she isn't an ex, but you know what I mean - since her..."

You wait with bated breath. Know what he's getting at. "You haven't done this in a while?"

He's silent. Lets his head turn to face you. "Haven't done this in a while."

"It's okay. We don't have-"

"No," he says. "A bird is a bird. I want to do it."

"You do?"

"Well," he considers, pretending like it's the first time. He's thought about this a lot; the mechanics of your situation, how it plays out in the future. Risk assessment. He's good at those. Has to do so many of them at university that he's started drawing one up one for the pair of you in his head. "I mean if my birds are making me approach girls, chances are things will head in the direction of hooking up, right?"

You suppose he's right. Tell him as much. 

"So it'd be good for me to get practise in, right?"

"You think you need it?" You grin.

"No. But I enjoy it," he says. Holds his palms up above his head. Observes them. "I like using my hands."

They're large. One of them is covered in tiny tattoos, the other completely bare. Thin veins hide beneath his honey skin, the tendons always protruding just a little bit. The kind of hands that would be good to hold. 

"You've got nice hands," you admit. 

Long fingers. Thick knuckles. Well-trimmed nails. Perfect hands, you consider, but will never divulge. Wouldn't want to boost his ego so much.

"Have you been checking them out?" He teases.

"You made me!" you laugh, deflecting, then imitating his voice. "'Look in the mirror, Disco Ball, blah blah blah. Eyes on me. Watch what I do.' I didn't have a choice."

"Sure," he taunts, but he knows you're probably not being dramatic. He really did make you watch yourself, and is probably gonna do it again. Seemed to work well the last time.

He places his hands beneath the side of his head, and takes a moment to check how you're feeling. 

You reciprocate his actions. Look at him for a little while. Neither of you say a word. It's like you're mentally preparing for what's about to happen; making sure that it's okay. Giving one another the chance to back out. 

You won't, though. Far less of a coward than Jungkook.  Too much pride. 

"How do we do this?" you whisper. 

He smiles. Just faintly. Tenderly. "However is most comfortable for you."

"Well, yeah," you smile back. It's sweet that he feels the need to clarify this. "But I mean, literally. Logically. How do we- Like- Do I just... take my trousers off?"

"I mean, it could be a start," Jungkook laughs. "We're thinking about it too hard."

You groan. Look to the ceiling with an embarrassed smile. You're both a little awkward, but it definitely feels like the awkwardness is mainly your problem today.

"Did you... with Jimin. Did you do this?" Jungkook asks. He's not sure why. Just wants to know. 

The bird lies between you both. Has just two words on it. No exclamation points this time, but still with capital letters. Somehow feels less vulnerable to you than the last one.

GET FINGERED.

You consider not answering. Think it's kind of shitty to air Jimin's laundry in such a way - but it's just as much about you as it is him. More so, even.

"Not really," you admit. "A little bit. I hurried him along."

Jungkook pauses now. Thinks. Asks, "hurried?"

"It's just kind of what I do," you sigh, pulling your knees a little further up. Closing off. Protecting yourself. Jungkook pushes them back down again. You let him. "I don't really let people touch me, in that regard. I let them fuck me. Don't let them... have me."

Jungkook wants to ask what that entails, but figures you'd have shared it if you wanted to. 

"I guess," you continue slowly, quickly glancing away, before deciding that his eyes are what you wanna see when you explain your relationship with sex. You want him to understand - and so you look back to him. He doesn't take his eyes off of you. "I kind of focus on the other person, yanno? For me, sex? Now? It's validation, I guess. Proving to myself I can still give people some form of... I don't know. Satisfaction? So yeah. I don't really want people touching me, as such. I'll touch them. I'll get them off. And I'd prefer it if they didn't get me off."

"It's a power thing, isn't it?" Jungkook theorises. "Control?"

You're silent. Just shrug. Maybe.

"I think - and you can tell me to shut up if you want - but I think that maybe it's because of your ex. He always held the cards?" Jungkook pauses, but you don't respond. Just look at his chest. Toy with the silver chain around his neck. "And this is your way of holding them instead?"

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours.

"Hey, Byeol?"

"Mhmm?"

"You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

You shake your head. "You get a say in this. It's not all up to me."

"I know I do," Jungkook replies without missing a beat. "If I didn't want to do something, I wouldn't. You're in control, but I can't be forced to do anything. Good luck trying if you think I can be."

You narrow your eyes a little. "So you're saying you want to do stuff with me?"

He grins. "Well, I don't find you entirely repulsive, even if you are incredibly annoying."

"Always a charmer."

"It's how I get all those girls - oh, wait," he jokes. Pauses. Thinks. Sighs. "Look, I'd rather work through my issues before I fuck up yet another relationship, and from the looks of it, you'd rather work through yours too. It just makes sense."

"I mean, we could just get therapy."

"Expensive."

"Time-consuming," you agree.

"This is far easier," he smirks, before deciding that you've had enough serious chats. There's no point running around in circles again. And so he decides to lighten the mood. "Now do you wanna get fingered or not?"

"Oh my god!" You slap at his chest and roll onto your back, laughing. "You're fucking vulgar."

"Is that a no?"

"It's an 'ask nicely, Jungkook.'"

He rolls onto his back, now. Laughs, too. "Is that what you want? For me to play nicely?"

"You're not playing at all, yet," you remind him.

There's hesitancy from both of you. It's a little awkward, and so unlike you - but there's no alcohol in your system like there was the first time a bird was attempted, and no excuse to touch like there was with the paint. 

This one is just you and Jungkook.

"Can I go freshen up first?" You ask, a little nervous and highly aware of the fact you hadn't come with the intention of getting Jungkook in your underwear. He says of course, but you're halfway out of the door regardless.

As soon as you're in the bathroom, you're rummaging around in the cupboard - praying - looking for a disposable razor of sorts. You know Jungkook keeps his good one in his room, next to his towels. 

Apparently, Jimin just loves to share regardless of what it is, much to Jungkook's dismay. It's not like Jimin's razor is here either - he's taken it with him to Busan.

Your search is fruitless, and when you return to Jungkook's room a little unsure of yourself, jeans off and tossed onto his desk chair, he can sense there's something wrong.

"I haven't shaved," you sort of blurt out, much to his surprise. 

"Okay?" He grins, drying off his wet hands that he'd washed in the kitchen while you were gone. "Nor have I? You want a medal?"

"No, I just-"

"Thought I'd care?" He questions, a little bit offended. "First things first, this isn't about me. It's about you. And secondly, I kinda like it - so I really don't care."

"You like it?"

"I like pussy," Jungkook simply states. "Like it no matter what way it's served up."

"You're not eating it."

"Not yet."

"You are unbelievable."

"Believe it, Byeol," he winks, perching on the end of his bed. Reaching out, he encourages you closer. Gets you standing between his legs. "Enough fucking around though. I think we should set out some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" You question, knowing it's probably smart. Aren't sure why you didn't think of it first.

He knows why. Casual sex isn't that much of a big deal to you.

Jungkook's not good at the whole unattached sex thing, though. He only really sleeps with girls he's interested in romantically. 

A boy that looks like him? You had expected him to have well over a dozen notches on his bedpost - but he can count them all on one hand.

It's not that he's a prude, or vanilla, or anything like that. Jungkook fucks. He fucks well. He just fucks the same people for extended periods of time. Takes comfort in routine. No chance to sleep around when you're as loyal as a dog.

You're the exception, not the rule. Time and time over, it becomes more and more apparent. 

"Rules," he nods.

"No kissing," you reply almost immediately.

"No-" he's about to protest, but then nods. "No kissing."

In fact, he actually agrees with you. He loves kissing. Might even like it more than blowjobs. Would happily take an hour make-out session in lieu of foreplay. For him, it is foreplay.

And so despite how desperately sad he is to know he won't get his favourite thing, he understands why.

He only likes it because of how intimate it is.

"Anything else?"

You take a moment to think, and then decide, "No hand holding, either. And no pet names."

"Not even Byeol?"

"At this point, I'm not even sure you remember my real name, Kook. Byeol is fine."

He nods, then scrunches his nose in a little disgust. 

"God." He dry-retches. "Imagine calling you something like baby." He retches again, a light grin tickling his lips as you scoff in offence. "Yeah, no you wouldn't suit anything cute."

"You're so lucky that the idea of you calling me baby repulses me," you flirt right back.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks - and then he's toying with the hem of your shirt. Pushing it up. Ghosting the lace of your thong with the tips of his fingers. "You'd hate it, would you?"

His fingers creep down. The pads of his fingers trace the tops of your thighs. Skirt the lace trim of your panties where they cover your pussy. Has your heart beating at a mile a minute.

"Would be such a turn-off."

The way his eyes scan your face has you wanting to take back every single rule you've just set.

"So you're telling me you're turned on, now?"

His words are met with a shrug. "I don't know, Jeon. Am I?"

"If I'm not allowed pet names, there's no way in hell you're allowed Jeon."

"No?"

He stands. Towers above you. Turns you round. Lowers his head, and lets his lips ghost your ear. "Not unless you wanna get me hard."

You fucking giggle. It's sin. When you turn your head ever so slightly to whisper in his ear, he thinks about saying fuck it to the birds. Needs more than what they're providing. 

"I can feel you. You're already hard, Jeon."

He pulls away from you. Palms at his crotch. You're right. And so he just smirks. "Fine. Harder."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," you tease - but are met with a show of dominance you've haven't seen before from Jungkook as clasps both of your wrists together just above your ass. Positioning you just where he had you last time he was in your room, you know your underwear is getting ruined.

The view reflected back in his full-length mirror only makes your heart beat even faster. 

"I won't lie," he swallows back the nerves that he was able to hide while he was flirting. Down his throat they go, settling next to his heart that's already beating a mile a minute. Positioning himself behind you, he encourages you both to the floor. You're sitting in front of him, as he kneels behind you and pulls you back a little. "You're right. I'm already real fucking hard, Byeol."

"Really?" You smirk. "Couldn't tell."

He tilts his head back. Groans. "God, I hate you. I want you to ignore it, okay? It's my problem to deal with."

All you can do is nod. 

"Okay," he says softly as he leans around to position your legs how wants them: bent at the knees. Spread. You're on display - and Dear lord, what a treat for the audience. A treat for him. "Look in the mirror. Watch me, okay? Watch my hands."

And you do; watch the way his palms lay flat on your knees, then slowly, gradually, trickle down your thighs. "What do you say if you wanna stop?"

"Chess," you say, ending the word with a gasp as his thumbs brush the outer lace of your panties. 

"Good girl," he hums into your ear, but you can barely hear him over your beating heart as his thumb begins to stroke over your clothed pussy. You're already soaked. It wets his thumb. Has him smirking. "Told you so."

He pushes the lace to the side. Exposes you. Makes him curse. Is slow as he sinks a single finger into you. 

He keeps it shallow. Just the first two knuckles. Just enough to let you know he's there. You can still see the ink on his finger. 

The moan you exhale is desperate. Needy. Gets him all smug. 

"Just testing the waters," he husks into your ear as he pulls it back out, before the pads of his fingers begin to massage around your entrance.  He's teasing. Caressing. Doing shit you've only ever had women do to you. The dudes you've fucked have never really cared for stimulation beyond the clit; haven't understood that the right touches in slightly different places can get you so fucking needy. 

Needy like you mean it. Not the bratty kind, where you're in control; the pathetic kind, where they're in control. 

He's massaging. Using his thumb and forefinger. Working his way up your labia; left side, then right. Up, then down. 

It's not like the sensation is anywhere close to what it feels like when his fingers are elsewhere, but it's the fact he's doing it all that really gets you flustered. He's careful. Delicate. Wants you to feel good. 

When you let out a moan, you can feel him smirk against you. He lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes his middle finger inside; fully this time. Pumps into you once, twice - "are you always this wet?" - then begins to stroke against your front wall. You whine.

He pushes into you again. Tells you how fucking hot you sound. Pulls out. In again. And then he builds speed. Fucks his finger into you. Just one - but it's enough.

Finally, you answer him between laboured breaths.

"Dunno. You'll have to do this again sometime and figure it out."

Withdrawing his finger, Jungkook rubs small circles over your clit. Holds onto you tighter. Smirks as your whimpers begin to build. His nose nestles into your hair, lips against your ear. "You want that, huh?"

The way your hips push up and grind against his languid movements should be indication enough - but you don't want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

You smirk right back. "Meh. You could always just compare notes with Jimin, instead."

He pauses for a split second. Scoffs. Sinks his finger back into you. Builds pace. Can hear the sounds of your soaked cunt and knows that it would be cruel to compare. Jimin wouldn't stand a chance. There's no way he had you like this, too.

And Jungkook would be right. The way Jungkook has you now is unlike any of your hookups. You're sober, for a start, and that always helps in the wetness department - but you are wetter than you've been in a fair while.

His fingers are long. Intentional in the way they move. His middle finger hits all the right spots as it pushes into you. He curls it gently without needing to be told. He just knows. Can feel the slight difference in texture. Had trained himself to find it in the past, and is pleased to see yours is just as easy to locate.

You don't think Seokjin ever found it. Not really. For a while, you pretended he could - but it never felt like this.

"Kook," you rasp, ridding your mind of all thoughts of Seokjin. He's no right to be in your brain when it's someone else making you feel so good. "Right there. Right there. Fuck."

"I know," he husks. "Can you take another?"

All do you do is nod. Moan something incoherent. You want more.

He can tell.

"Can you take three?" he asks. You just fucking nod. Will take what he gives you. "Mhhm?" 

He bites down the syllables, stopping the 'baby' he wants to mewl from coming out. He knows pet names are a no, but it's a force of habit. It's just like the muscle memory in his fingers knowing how he should touch you; something well trained, well practised.

He doesn't relent. Keeps going. Has your cunt stuffed with his fingers. Will make you cum.  

It's just as much for him now as it is for you. He's watching your face, how you refuse to open your eyes, how your dewy lips are rested ajar, soft moans humming from your throat. 

He kind of hates the rules. Knows they serve a purpose, and that they're smart, but it'd be so much easier for him if he could kiss you. 

It's not that he actively wants to make out with you, it's just that it comes naturally to him. He doesn't think he's ever been inside a woman without actually kissing her. There's a sizable portion of his brain which is having to work against his instincts, now. If he didn't have to waste that energy, he could spend it on you instead.

But it also makes it exciting. A little sordid. You've removed the romance he typically associates with a position as promiscuous as this. Maybe he is capable of fucking around.

"I know," he husks as your body writhes beneath his touch. "Ba-" Shit. "Byeol, I know. That feel good?"

Feel good? Feel good? What kind of a fucking question is that? If you could form a coherent sentence instead of moaning every other second, you'd ask him as such. Instead, you settle with, "fuck." 

"Should I take that as a yes?" he smirks against your hair, his second hand dropping from the grip it has on your waist down to your pussy. Pushing your thighs a little further apart, Jungkook has you in the palm of his hand like a fucking ragdoll. His hands work in tandem, fingers plunging into your while he rubs dainty circles over your clit, careful to not be too aggressive. He's taking his time. Building your high. 

"Take it as a 'you could do better'," you whine, just to wind him up a little. He's doing fucking fantastic.

"Better?" He sounds offended, but is smirking, watching pleasure take hold of your features. He loves the way you goad him on. Knows you must be a right little brat in the right scenario. Think maybe one day, he'd like to experience it fully. For now, he simply growls into your ear. "Open your eyes. Look at yourself." He builds his pace. The sounds of him sliding into you are lewd. Soaking. Sopping wet. "You hear that? Tell me to do better again. Go on. I dare you."

Your gaze opens, all hazy and cum-drunk, falling on the mirror. Your skin is dewy, and the incident positioning of your spread legs puts you on full display. 

Jungkook withdraws his fingers. Spreads your lips open. Holds his stare on you. Watches as your wetness drips from your entrance. Rubs circles on your clit. Encourages more. Watches as it seeps from you. Presses his hips upwards to let you know he's still fucking solid for you. He gathers your leaking slick on his index and middle finger, then pushes it back into you. 

He's panting, too. 

And so you smirk. Watch the pained lust in his eyes. Tell him, "do better," in a hushed whisper.

He's slow. Lets his touches linger. Doesn't pump into you like he had been - instead, he scissors his fingers ever so gently - and that's when you decide he's a menace to society and that you're probably doing the world a favour by keeping him off the streets for a little while longer.

"Holy shit," you hiss, and then your fingers are wrapped around his wrist again. He fucking laughs. 

His nose nuzzles into your hair, his smirk not hiding his teeth. He's thinking about kissing you again. Just a small one. On the side of your head. Has to talk just to stop himself.

"That better, Byeol?" 

All you can do is whine. Nod a little. 

"Can't hear you. I asked a question. Give me an answer," he teases. "Now, is this better, Byeol?"

"No," you lie. "Considerably worse."

"Fine," he says, and pulls out. Grips your thighs with his soaked fingers. Squeezes them together. Lets you pant for a little while. He's panting, too. "On your knees."

"Sorry?"

"You will be," he smirks, changing his position behind you. "Get on your knees."

And so you do. You relinquish trust to him. Feel like you might have a heart attack from how fast it's beating - but he knows this. Strokes the curve of your hip. Hugs you into his chest ever so slightly and says, "the minute it gets too much, or you decide you've done enough... just say the word, Byeol." 

He nuzzles his nose against your hair. Likes the way it smells. Hugs you a little tighter, still. 

You nod. "At least tell me how you want me, first?"

It's the mental preparation you need, much more than physical. He knows this. Knows that his teasing has a time and a place. What was okay a few moments ago would be too brash now - so he tries a little tenderness once more. 

He waits for you to look at him. Not in the mirror this time, but head turned, eyes on his. The glitter on your eyes catches in the light. Reflects in his eyes. Puts stars in them.

"On your front. Head down," he says slowly, not wanting it to sound crude. "Ass up. Or just flat on your front, if you'd rather. Up to you. Wait-" He stands, holding out his hand for you to take. When you do, he pulls you up and guides you to his bed instead. Lets you sit. He still stands. "Just realised I was asking you to be facedown on the literal floor. My bad."

You don't say anything, just smile at the fact he realised it. Such a boy, and yet such a gent. He's trouble, there's no doubt about it. As your eyes study his face, he seems sincere - and so you turn. Lean forward. Stretch out. Face down, ass up.

"Fuck," he hisses and gets on his knees behind you. One of his hands grapples at your ass, fingers sinking into the peachy flesh. He strokes against the soft skin, and then asks, "how do you feel about spanking?"

You smirk into his sheets. Plunge even further into them. Raise your ass even higher. "It's not on the bird."

His fingers dig further into your cheek. You're mewling. He's getting delirious again. "Byeol..."

The way you move your hips ever so slightly is absolute sin. You know you're trying to make him crack. You know it's working. "Mhmm?"

He pulls you back. Presses the bulge in his trousers against you. He's still hard. Harder, even. His hands are on your hips, keeping you close, even as he retracts - before pulling you tight to him. Repeats. Ruts himself against you a couple more times.

"If one of those birds doesn't end with me fucking you-"

"You'll what?" you say with a sardonic smile as you twist your body around and out of his grasp. You're on your back now, reaching for his shirt, pulling him down. 

He complies. Tangles his legs with yours. Lets his hand cup your heat. Toys with you. Teases. 

"What will you do, huh?" You flirt. "Die?"

He smirks now, too. Knows that you're taking the piss. Quite likes it. Likes that you remember the shit he says when he gets too horny for his own good.

"Maybe," he husks, sinking his fingers inside you again. Didn't even get to have you how he wanted you, but he likes this. Likes the flirt. Likes how erratic your breathing gets. 

"Guess you'll just have to - fuck - keep waiting for them to fall," you turn a little. Hook your leg over his hip. Grind against him. Ride his fingers. "See if you get what you want."

"I'm incredibly patient," he lies. Builds the speed he's fucking them into you at. Uses the hand that's not bringing you closer and closer to climax to hold your chin. Wants to keep you looking at him. 

"Liar."

"I'll do this for hours if it means making you cum," he almost snarls over the sound of your moans.

You laugh. Stutter on the moans in your throat. Tell him good luck. Let him know that you can't remember the last time someone else made you orgasm. You can do it yourself, easy. Someone else? Good fucking luck.

"Fine. We're gonna make you cum," he says as if it's a group activity - but then he drops his grip from your chin and reaches to the hand of yours that had been hooked over his shoulder. Guides it to your pussy. "Get yourself off."

You stare at him for a moment. His pace eases, but his gaze doesn't drop. He's slow. Rubs at you just in the right way. And then he says, "get yourself off while I'm inside you."

You say nothing. Do as you're told.

"Good girl."

It doesn't take long. If anything, it's embarrassing how quickly he has you coming undone. Admittedly, you're just as much a part of it as he is. Without your input, maybe he would have had to have been going for hours.

But you are involved, and you're shaking around him. Legs trembling. Toes pointed. Head buried into his chest, fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him from overstimulating you too much. His name escapes your lips as your orgasm ripples through your muscles, and Jungkook just fucking laughs.

"So fuckin' hot," he praises, lips pouty, in desperate need of a kiss to offset the fact he's practically leaking precum into his pants.

Rules are rules, though. They're not made to be broken. Not these ones.

He withdraws from you, and wipes the mess on his sheets. Will deal with it later. Watches you as you giggle to yourself, orgasm well and truly delivered. When your eyes open and focus on him, Jungkook is pleased. You look content. 

"I'm still scared," you simper. "We might have to practise that one a few times."

He laughs now, too. Rolls onto his back. Can smell your arousal on his fingers. Has never been more hungry in his entire life.

"Such a liar."

But you both are, in your own ways. 

"Maybe. Thank you... for that," you say, very aware of the unfair dynamics of just you getting off, but knowing that without a fallen bird to specify it, there's no way you can just reciprocate.

"Pleasures all mine," he says, as if he isn't letting himself get severely blue-balled. Knows what the agreement is though. You getting him off now would be just for his benefit. He laments the fact he's not scared of blowjobs. Wishes all of his birds were like yours, now.

The silence consumes you both. Has you wondering why you never come undone like that normally. Makes you think maybe you need to stop preventing people from touching you in such a way. Jimin had tried. You can remember - but you'd dismissed him. 

He's not the only person you've dismissed in such a way. Perhaps you will enjoy casual sex more if you don't keep your desires at bay. Maybe Jungkook's been right about this all along.

"Anyways," you turn to face him. "Phone."

"Hmm?"

"Well, we've done my bird. We need to do yours from earlier."

Jungkook says nothing. Is a little bit confused. He's still hard. You've barely come down from your orgasm. Surely nows not the time?

You couldn't disagree more even if you tried. It's the perfect time. Stops you from thinking about how fucking good that was, and how much you want it to happen again.

"You... want me to invite a girl round?"

"Well, not while I'm still here" you consider. "Like, text them now, but arrange it for another time."

"Yeah, but-" Jungkook wants to protest. Wants to remind you that his sheets are covered in you. Instead, he just looks at the ceiling, a little baffled.

"If it's too much, why don't you just text a girl, at least?"

He frowns. You don't notice, because you're looking at the ceiling, too.

But then he sighs. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is being a coward. 

"Alright," he reaches for his phone from the nightstand. Unlocks it, and opens up his Instagram DMs. Looks over to you. Catches your gaze. Smiles, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "What do I say?"

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver. |  SMUT INDEX

[trekbait]

THIS is why you keep FAILING to blend in on ANCIENT EARTH!

Getting stuck on Earth of the past is a surprisingly common occurrence for Starfleet crews. Between slingshots, Q, Devidians, orbs, Borg, kemocite explosions, rogue temporal agents and stray tachyons stuck in your ablative armour; we estimate 80% of time travel occurrences land officers specifically on Earth in North America in the 100 years between the 1930s and 2030s (give or take).

This is your guide on how to stay undercover until you escape.

What year is this?

Try not to ask this question. It is not something that comes up in regular conversation so it will look weird. Instead, look for a shop with large folded batches of paper on display. These will be newspapers and will invariably show the date in the corner of the front page. 

If you have 24th-century technology, you might also be able to tell from the level of pollution or radiation in the atmosphere, or from astrometric readings.

Continue to check the news for more information about this era, its society and historical events that you may be influencing.

Where are you from?

Try not to be specific lest they know the place and ask if you know someone there. Keep it to a general “up north”. If you’re quite far north already, substitute with “down south”.

If you stand out a fair bit, suggest that you are from France (unless you are in France, of course, but this is statistically unlikely). But do not suggest your Vulcan officer had a rice-picking incident or that you are a secret agent; such stories may be read as too outlandish. Plan your cover as soon as possible and research your era and location to get your facts straight.

Funny looking pyjamas

People of this era consider Starfleet uniforms to look like pyjamas. Go with that and say you had to leave your flat in the middle of the night due to a fire or an argument with the “missus”. This is also a good opportunity to appeal for advice on where you can find replacement clothes. 

If necessary, do not be afraid of stealing period-appropriate clothes to maintain your cover. It may not be moral, but you will be less disruptive to the timeline by stealing a shirt than walking around in full uniform. 

You should avoid high-security places when committing theft without technological aid; interacting with law enforcement can be deadly in this era. This is especially true for officers who cannot pass as humans of the local dominant ethnic group; these individuals should lay low as much as possible.

Non-human officers

The unexpected nature of time travel may preclude preparation for non-humans to hide their more obvious alien features. Some species (Betazoids, Deltans, Baku) can easily pass as humans and will have no problem blending in. Others may pose a challenge. Here are ideas of how to stay covert;

Vulcans, Romulans: Wear a hat, sweatband or long hair to cover your ears and eyebrows.

Bajorans: A band-aid over the nose and pass it off as an injury.

Trill: Pass off your spots as tattoos or wear a hood to cover the sides of your head.

Former Borg: Pass off your implants as jewellery or a body mod. Draw on some extra tattoos to add to the effect. Alternative communities can provide great cover to non-humans due to their non-conformity with the dominant society.

Orions, Andorians, Bolians: Add makeup and glitter to your face and say you’re going to a festival (Andorians should also wear a hat for the antenna - pick a flashy one to add to the festival aesthetic).

Cardassians, Ferengi, Klingons etc.: This is a lot harder. These species should stay hidden as much as possible unless there is a “comic book convention” in town. In this case, steal a lanyard and offer to pose for a photo to anyone who gets suspicious. They will assume you are in an elaborate costume seeking attention

These later examples will protect officers in casual interactions but will be out of place if entering more formal environments.

Zippers

Clothing items and bags on Earth often used a device called a “zipper” formed of metal teeth. You placed the ends together then pulled a tog up to close the two sides of the fabric. You won’t be familiar with these because they have been banned by the 2274 Oddenbery Accords after zippers were instrumental in the collapse of space-time in the Kandari sector that cost 6 million lives. 

It goes without saying that 20th-century humans should not be made aware of the mortal danger zippers pose to the universe or you may alter the timeline. Holographic versions are safe to use if you wish to practice their function and blend in.

Currency

Old Earth still relied on capitalist economics and the use of currency which had no intrinsic value. This currency often took the form of circles of decorated metal and printed slips of paper; in later decades it was also electronic, traded via plastic rectangles. The plastic rectangles will be unobtainable to you (and if stolen, would allow your movements to be tracked) but you should be aware of their purpose. 

Currency was required to even access the most essential services such as shelter and food so your first priority should be acquiring some of these scraps of paper. 

Theft: Ideally you don’t want to steal from individuals. Poverty was widespread and you could impact someone's life significantly. Instead, if safe to do so you should aim to steal from an institution such as a bank’s currency dispenser (such companies would not be impacted by small-scale theft due to something called “insurance”).

Trade: If you have on you something that holds an intrinsic value that does not contain components from the future, consider taking it to a “Porn Shop”. Tell the shop owner you have something to sell and you can obtain legal tender from them. 

Labour: Those at the bottom of the socio-economic hierarchy obtained currency via performing labour for most of the day. Your best bet is irregular work such as cleaning; this will give a very low return of currency despite intense labour but it is your best way to stay under the radar.

Gambling: Humans of this century gambled a great deal more than they had the resources to. If you have an unfair natural advantage in the games they play then you should find people willing to place a wager. Humans bet on anything, from animal races to elections or their whole economy.

Humans were particularly attached to their money and gave it names like “Abe” or “Benjamin” to create a bond with it. You should come up with your own (human) names for any money you obtain to blend in with capitalist exchanges.

Note that this region was fond of “tipping”. This is when low-wage staff were given extra money by the customer beyond the stated value of the service to compensate for their employer paying their staff less than that needed to survive. This will often be indicated by holding out a hand or a quiet cough.

Colourful metaphors

Profanity is common on old Earth in a way that is seen as inappropriately aggressive today. Nobody pays any attention to you if you don't swear every other word. So you may need to employ some yourself in casual conversation to truly blend in. Many words used then are now automatically censored by our universal translators such as ****, ****, ***** him, go **** yourself up your ******* *******, **** ** ***** **** then ***, and *. 

Transport

North America of this era was obsessed with a highly inefficient and dangerous form of personal transport known as the automobile (or “car”). These will likely end up being your primary form of transport and being a proficient driver of these vehicles is important for blending in. So you best spend an hour on the holodeck familiarising yourself with the control scheme of its interior.

Mass transit also existed, though due to chronic underinvestment in the regions you are statistically most likely to arrive in, you may find it difficult to obtain. The most common of these are “buses” which are large automobiles capable of moving around 50-100 people at a time along major routes. Usage will require currency; be sure to check the fare before boarding as some may require “exact change” to be provided.

And the timeline?

Let’s leave that side of things to the boys at the Department for Temporal Investigations. But what we will say is that this era is particularly savage. You may be tempted to right injustices left, right and centre (there are a lot) but if you, say, save a woman from getting killed by one of those deadly automobiles we mentioned then you could find out that the whole timeline is thrown off course. 

So follow these tips, keep your head down and look for a way home. That is unless you cause the death of a pivotal revolutionary figure and need to take their place to restore the timeline. Naturally.

What tips do you have for passing as a local on ancient Earth? Let us know below and Follow us for more essential tips in your Starfleet career!

[enam3l]

A/N: another little rockstar eddie blurb because i am in my feels. reader is coded as having textured hair because that’s what i have and i gotta read all these straight hair fics constantly !!! also if the title made you laugh ily

There are lots of things Eddie Munson never thought he’d be known as. A rockstar, a husband, a soulmate, a father, an icon… however he did manage to become all of those. One thing he never imagined he’d be known as was your personal hairdresser.

For Eddie, one of his favourite consistent parts of his day was watching you do your hair. Something about the ritualistic movements soothed him.

The way your eyebrows would furrow as you waited to see an outcome. How you’d hold bobbles and hairpins between your pretty lips and if he were to make you laugh, causing you to drop them, he’d be scolded. The scents of each product you applied, a fresh layer he knew he could inhale throughout the day when he’d press his head to yours.

Wash day was even more glorious, a much longer, careful process he could get lost in. Eddie had never had this pleasure of watching girls get ready. No sisters or live-in girlfriends before, no mom to watch and admire. So he was taken by the novelty of observing once you began to stay with each other for extended periods of time.

At first Eddie had found himself standing awkwardly beside your vanity, peering at your process. That didn’t last long.

‘Quit it, Eds!’ You’d told him, ‘it’s putting me off! It feels like you’re a dog wanting to be fed or something.’

So eventually, he fell into the routine of flopping on the bed and propping himself up so he good get a good view. Eddie liked the way your hair moved as a brush raked through. He liked your huff of annoyance when you hit a tangle. He liked the wrinkle of your nose as you doused yourself in hairspray. He liked the way you’d wiggle your arms like jello after holding the hairdryer for too long.

The best times were when you’d be going out and decide to pin your hair or add accessories. It was then that Eddie understood the tendencies of magpies. He loved the way a slide would glitter in your hair, how throughout the day it would catch the light.

Naturally, Eddie’s subconscious absorbed all these secrets to your hair. Gradually learning what each product did, how every appliance worked, the way any style was created. And eventually, he was able to wield this secret knowledge when you became indisposed.

A week you had found yourself with a case of the blues. Not feeling quite yourself. Only wanting to be curled up under the duvet or in his arms. Unimpressed with even food and tv. Then you felt worse as the week progressed, fretting over feeling ‘icky’ as you’d so adorably put it. Eddie couldn’t deny, you had started to smell, but you were his little smell.

‘I could do it,’ Eddie mumbled. You looked up and blinked in confusion.

‘I could wash your hair for you…’

Oh, your sweet, sweet boy.

‘Thank you baby,’ you hummed, ‘but then I’d have to dry it properly or it’ll go all tangly and… I just don’t feel like it.’

His finger twirled a rogue strand - well, it had gotten to the stage where they were all rogue strands.

‘No, I know. I can do that! I know your routine by heart, sweetheart. I promise.’

And you were too tired and too sick of that sticky haired feeling to protest. Eddie laid you back gently in the bath and went through every step of your wash. His tongue poked out in concentration as he tried to master the towel hair wrap which managed to elicit a giggle from you. Then he sat you down at your vanity and looked over what he was working with.

‘Welcome to Munson Salon, madam,’ he grinned, ‘May I say you’re the most beautiful model I’ve ever had the pleasure of styling. What would you like today?’

Despite the lingering nerves your boyfriend may incinerate your hair, Eddie’s silliness managed to slightly clear the dark cloud that had been lingering over you all week. A blow dry? A silk press or au natural? Those cute plaits you sometimes do that left your hair all wavy? He was confident in every process. His heart warmed seeing you crack a small smile.

‘Whatever you feel like doing, Eds. I don’t mind,’ you shrug.

Eddie rakes his fingers through your damp strands.

‘S’my favourite when it’s natural,’ he mumbles as if embarrassed.

You lean back into his touch, the only thing that had felt comforting the entire week. Instinctively he knew the order of each product,

‘Liquids, cream, oil,’ you notice him mouth to himself. Taking the care he usually reserved for fixing up his precious guitars. Then, he wielded the diffuser with expertise. As if he was playing as an expert swordsman whose sword was in fact a hairdryer.

Once the process was complete, Eddie took great pride in spinning you around for a big reveal. As if you were in one of those goofy makeover shows and you hadn’t just watched the whole thing.

‘Thank you baby,’ you smiled. Your first genuine one in days, ‘it’s perfect.’

‘Y’think? You gonna make me do it every time now?’

‘Maybe,’ you teased. Pulling your love’s arms down around your shoulders and kissing his hands.

It became clear Eddie’s question was more of a wish than a query. Offering eagerly every time you were going out or about to wash. Multiple times you were persuaded into gentle afternoons, both of you in the bath as he carefully sudsed your locks. More of an indulgence for him than anything but it made you melt, the shocking tenderness your larger than life, rocker boyfriend possessed when it came to you.

The press went wild after an event you attended where you’d mentioned offhand that Eddie had done your hair. Magazines swooning more than ever over your perfect man. It made him roll his eyes.

‘I just like looking after you,’ he tutted as he glanced over the headline, ‘you’re mine to take of.’

That gentle desire to care applied as you had your daughters. Eddie’s heart swelling that each girl came into the world with an extraordinary head of hair not unlike their father’s. Tears were shed at all three first haircuts which he had delayed for as long as possible.

‘They can’t cut them, sweetheart. We made those curls!’ He’d plead with a pout.

To Eddie’s delight, as they got a little older and their hair became longer, so came the opening of Daddy’s Salon. Lining up his tiny clients after bath time or in the morning and fixing their hair.

School mornings were spent placing each girl at the vanity he’d watched you get ready at a thousand times over. Letting their tiny hands peruse the hoard of clips, bows and bobbles he’d accumulated. Their little cheeks dimpled just like Eddie’s as they grinned at Daddy doing their hair. Rarely flinching or sniffing at any tugs due to his tender touch.

Still, it was always your hair Eddie loved to play with the most. Doing it felt like offering you back a fraction of the care you gave him. It was a constant in his life, something he could always feel before seeing. A reminder every morning as it tickled Eddie’s skin that you were still by his side.

my taglist angels: @whoahoney @lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos s @munsonology @mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @luvrsbian

[kyber-crystal]

all i needed || benji dunn

summary: you’ve always cared for benji, but it takes him teetering on the edge of death for you to realize how much you truly loved him

words: ~2.7k

warnings: some angst, mentions of violence, two oblivious pining idiots

a/n: HI HELLO! finished writing this while sick bc i wanted to get it out of the way before i got my wisdom tooth out. to anon that requested this, please note that i haven’t seen rogue nation in FOREVER so forgive me if some details seem off! i had to go back and look at the script to make sure i got the general timeline right. ALSO if the time skips seem weird…ignore that LOL. i tried to modify some scenes (btw any and all movie quotes included are not MINE, creds go to MI:5). the first part of this is pretty benji pov heavy—i’ve never tried this before 😅

Benji’s not hopelessly in love with you. Definitely not.

“You know I’d spend the rest of my life with you if I could,” you had drunkenly admitted to him one night in a bar somewhere in Eastern Europe. “Just you and me, forever…sounds like a dream.”

If only it wasn’t.

He doesn’t get attached. He knows better than to get attached. But it’s entirely his own doing; he tells himself—you’ve been glued at the hip since the day you first met. Ever since you swore to him that you’d never let him go, he knew he would be in deep.

Now, he was sinking…fast. And he hated quicksand.

(He definitely hasn’t almost gotten caught in some before. The only reason why he didn’t drown in sediment was because you were there to save the day.)

Casablanca was far too hot for his liking, but he’s standing in the scorching heat anyway because you’re here. You effortlessly glide through the glittering water like a mermaid and he can’t help but stare a bit.

Somehow, you sense his presence and emerge from the pool, dripping wet. “What are you doing out here? It’s 100 degrees and you look like you’ve been deep-fried.”

“I needed some sun,” he responded quickly. (Great excuse, he internally smacks himself.) “Need a towel?”

“Oh, yeah.” You flash him a gleaming smile and take the fluffy towel from his hands, quickly drying yourself off. “Thanks a bunch.”

“The sun is treating you pretty nicely,” he tries to compliment. “You look great.”

Your face lights up at this. “Really?”

“You always do.”

Doing a little spin, you smile again, “Thank you!”

“Man,” Ethan chuckles as you push the sliding glass doors open and walk back inside the house, “it’s almost painful to watch.”

“Quit it,” Benji mutters. “I don’t want to hear any of your nonsense.”

“You are aware that what you’re doing won’t get you anywhere.

“My personal life is none of your business.”

“Except it is,” the agent grins, “since most of the time that you’re not busy working is spent talking about her.”

Benji opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He knows he’s right.

“But it’s funny,” Ethan continues, “because she can’t see it. You’d think that a woman that smart would be able to tell, but she can’t.”

“Then let’s keep it that way. This conversation is over,” he feels his face burning a bright red that he knows has nothing to do with being sunburnt. “Agent Dunn, out.”

“She’s going to be the death of you one day,” he hears Ethan call out as he turns around and walks inside. “Watch your step.”

Benji isn’t the jealous type. Definitely not.

But all that registers with him when he glances in the rearview mirror at you and Brandt is fifty shades of green. You’d just finished laughing at something he had said, and envy spills over him like boiling hot oil. You were supposed to be laughing with him and him only. He told the better jokes (right? Right?) and you spent far more time together. So who was winning, really?

But nothing he tells himself seems to make him feel better.

Noticing Benji’s clenched jaw and tight grip on the wheel, Luther decides to break the tension. “That was a damn good stunt you pulled back there.”

“Effortless.”

“Wait, Benji…” you pause mid conversation. His grip immediately loosens the moment you open your mouth to speak. “Please tell me you still have a copy of that disk.”

He holds up the drive. “Yup, still got it.”

“Where to now?” Brandt asks as he hands the handcuff key through the glass to Ethan.

“London.”

It’s daybreak when you board the plane to Heathrow. Nobody on the team is even trying to hide the tiredness on their faces.

Even with heavy dark circles under your eyes, you still managed to look so beautiful, Benji thought to himself. He didn’t understand how you did it—you could run on twenty minutes of sleep and still walk straight.

“Let me help you with that,” Brandt offered and you gave him a grateful look as he put your duffel bag into the overhead bins.

Benji held his tongue (miraculously enough).

You sat down in your seat and stretched your arms in the air, letting out a loud yawn. “I can’t do this today. I want to just…give up and do nothing.”

“Can’t we all,” he replied.

You made eye contact with him and motioned to the empty seat on your left.

“Do you want me to—” he began, and you nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

Almost immediately, your head lolled against his shoulder. You looked up and offered him a sleepy smile, and he swore he’d self-destruct at that exact moment.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you yawned again. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

“Then get some rest,” he squeezed your shoulder. “I’ll let you know when we land.”

You hummed in reply and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. “You’re my favorite, Benji Dunn. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he murmurs after you’ve fallen asleep.

He watched you in a trance-like silence, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You were still wearing the tan woven bracelet on your left wrist—it had become battered and stained from prolonged wear, but you refused to take it off because he made it for you. One ATV ride, two hours, and three shots later, that was what he’d come up with as your latest “souvenir”.

His heart aches in more ways than one. Here he was following you around like a hopeless romantic and yet, you were completely oblivious to all his signals. And he doesn’t have a single clue as to why you stick around at all—with your beauty that he believed could rival Venus herself, you could have anyone you wanted. Hell, you could have Brandt in an instant if you tried.

But you insisted on sticking by him—the exact reason, he probably won’t ever figure out—and he’s grateful for it. Even though he feels as if you deserve better…a lot better.

“As promised, I have a job for you,” you heard Lane’s distant voice over the phone as he spoke to Ethan. “And for the sake of your friend, you’ll do it.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to bring me the unlocked disc by midnight tonight. Now say the words.”

Ethan paused.

“Say the words,” Lane repeated.

“...I accept.”

“I knew you would.”

The call ended and you went back to fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, trying to fight against the growing lump in your throat.

“Y/N…”

“Ethan, if you’re going to tell me to stop moping around, then I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, that’s not it. You need to listen to what I’m about to tell you.” He sounded more serious this time. “We need to get him back. And to do that…”

“...We need to unlock the disc,” you finished. “And to do that…”

“We have to take the Prime Minister…”

“Wait, think about this for just a minute—”

“It’s the only way to get Benji back.”

“Just think. It’s exactly what Lane wants us to do.”

“Which is why it HAS TO HAPPEN!” he raised his voice. You swallowed hard, and, noticing your sullen expression, he softened his tone. “This is how we beat Lane. This is how we make everything right.”

You could still see the image of Benji’s unconscious body being dragged away—it was fresh in your mind as if it happened only a minute ago. “Yeah. I know.”

If he noticed the longing look in your eyes, he didn’t say anything about it, but he could tell you cared about Benji much more than you were letting on.

“I’m going to find him, and he’ll be alright,” Ethan added after several minutes of silence had passed. “I’m not letting anything happen to him for your sake.”

“And why am I not coming with you?” Your blood began to boil.

“Because it’s not safe, Y/N. I care about your safety, and if both you and Benji want to live, I have to go alone.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“You need to trust me on this one.”

You grumbled something under your breath. “This is the last time I’m letting you throw your ass on the line with barely any backup.”

He grinned. “Ma’am yes ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Benji had just stirred awake to see a dark figure walking over to him, something heavy in hand.

Maybe Ethan was right, he realized. You would be the death of him someday. And that seemed particularly likely now.

“Where is the disk?” Lane questioned.

“You’re looking at it. I am the disk,” Ethan replied, voice cold, “I memorized it. All two point four billion in numbered accounts. If that vest goes off, you get nothing. And without this money you’re nothing. Without me you’re nothing.”

He stared at Lane through the screen, watching him grow more irritated. The timer continued to count down

“Right now you’re thinking it’s a bluff. I’d never let my friends die. I couldn’t possibly memorize the entire disk. There’s only one way to be sure. Let Benji go.”

Lane stood and paced around the room before finally pressing the button, stopping the timer at just :03. Benji and Ilsa let out loud. long sighs of relief.

Vinter and his goons stepped closer.

“If they come any closer, shoot me.”

Ilsa smiled and slid her seat next to him, planting the barrel of her gun against his ribs.

“Stop. STOP,” Lane demanded, and Vinter and the others stopped what they were doing,

“Remember when I said some day you were going to take things too far...and that’s me speaking—not him,” Benji reminded Ethan.

“The only way this ends is you and me, Lane. Face-to-face. Only this time I won’t be locked in a glass box or half-dead on some highway.” Ethan leaned closer to the camera lens. “You want your money…the bone doctor’s gonna have to beat it out of me... Now let Benji go!”

Finally… “One three nine…”

Benji looks down at the keypad on his chest and nervously punches in a series of numbers. The light on the timer dies and the five-point harness springs open. He sheds the vest as discreetly as he can, wrapping it in his overcoat.

“Go.”

“Ethan—“

He slid a phone across the table to him, “Y/N’s waiting with Luther and Brandt. Go.”

It was far too cold in the office building. Add on the fact that you’d been in there for what felt like hours, and you felt like you were being tortured. You knew Ethan always kept his promises, but were still unsure if Benji would be coming back alive at all.

You had bitten and picked at your nails until you drew blood. The stinging sensation had stopped bothering you a while ago. So did the crimson stains on your skin.

But then you heard a lock click and a loud ringing noise, and suddenly, he’s standing there. Panting and sweating and looking burnt out, but very much alive.

You froze in place for a second, unsure of what to do.

“You’re real, right?” you asked, hesitation in your voice as you gingerly cupped his face in your hands. “Please tell me this is real. I don’t want to wake up and not see you in front of me.”

“It’s real. I'm real,” Benji reassured you as he gripped your forearms. That was all the confirmation you needed before you threw your arms around his neck, hugging him as tight as you possibly could. You were trembling, holding on so strongly because you were so afraid that he’d slip away if you let go.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you repeated over and over. You pressed your lips to his, hard, before pulling back to stare at him again. His cheeks turn pink as he barely has time to react and kiss you back. “I’m so glad you’re alive, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you—“

“Did you—“ he stammered, suddenly at a loss for words. “Did you just—“

“You know I loved you all along,” you explained breathlessly. “It just took me a while to realize the fact.”

“Well, I love you too.”

One of his hands steers the wheel, while the other holds yours and absentmindedly rubs circles into your palm. You’re sipping your ultra-specific go-to coffee order that nobody—unless they were Benji—would bother to remember. It feels so normal—like something that has been routine for a long time.

The team tries their hardest to pretend not to notice the newfound closeness. (“But these idiots have been like this for ages, they only just realized it. Let them be,” Luther had said. He shared the team’s singular brain cell 50% of the time, which meant that he was always the first one to catch on to things. Ilsa shared the other 50%, she was very cunning.) But it’s hard when they almost crash because Benji keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

It’s hard to get a moment alone when 90% of your job consists of you jumping as a group from place to place. So you’re grateful for the few in between that you’re lucky enough to steal.

This time, you found yourselves in a quiet townhouse somewhere in Strasbourg. Ethan wasn’t snoring tonight—maybe it was because Ilsa was next to him this time. Luther was upstairs, probably filing and cleaning out mission reports with a croissant you’d bought him. He never slept, and he never made a sound.

The place was quiet, the only thing you could hear being the chirping crickets outside and the quiet crackling of the fireplace in front of you. You hadn’t felt this kind of peace in months.

“It’s cold at this hour, isn’t it? Meanwhile I thought France would be a bit nicer this time of year.”

Benji comes out from the kitchen holding two mugs of tea, as well as a blanket around himself. The amber flames illuminate his face in a way that makes him look almost angelic, and your heart skips a beat.

He sits down on the plush rug right next to you and offers you one of the mugs, and you accept it gratefully. After taking several long sips, you set it down on the small coffee table in front of you and lean back against the couch.

“You’re staring,” you say suddenly.

“Sorry…can’t help it,” he replies with a sheepish grin, then holds part of the blanket out—an invitation. You shift closer, allowing him to pull you in and wrap the rest of the soft fleece around you. “You’re very…breathtaking.”

This elicits a small laugh from you, but you can feel your cheeks heat up. There’s something different in the air—maybe it’s because those feelings are finally out in the open, or maybe because this moment feels so domestic and it’s both unfamiliar but comforting at the same time.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?” You’re starting to drift off at this point, getting comfortable in his presence.

“I always wondered, you know…”

“Wondered what?”

“How we’re always ending up together—why you decided to choose me,” Benji admits.

The words come out of your mouth so easily. “What do you mean? You’re my person, Benji. I looked at you and I just knew you were right. You had to be.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you and Brandt—“

You shook your head and smiled, tracing patterns on his leg. “Don’t be silly. He was actually—he was the one who made me realize I was in love with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, Benji,” you laughed, “don’t tell me you were jealous.”

“O-of course not!” he spluttered, face turning bright red, “All I want is for you to be happy!”

“Well…you know how I told you you’re my favorite, right?”

“Uh huh…”

“That hasn’t changed, you know. I love the Benji that knows how I like my coffee, and the Benji that carries me to bed when I’m too drunk, sick, or injured. And the Benji that always has my back. Especially the Benji that sits in front of the fireplace with me at 3am because he knows I enjoy his company more than the 387 crickets outside.”

He presses a kiss to your temple in response, unable to stop the corners of his lips from turning up in a grin.

“You know I’ve always got your back.”

tags: @kenobismullet @ilsastrenchcoat @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @the-multiverse-of-fandoms @joyfullyswimmingface 

[gotham-response]

Hey I just moved here a couple weeks ago, but I've been following your posts, and I was wondering

Do you know why that rich kid, Theo? Tim? Titus? I can't remember, anyway the sleep deprived one, do you know why he's wandering around lower gotham with a limp?

Hmm. For patient confidentiality, I cannot confirm the name of the person that you might be referring to. What I can tell you is that I responded to a call for a kid who fell out of the sky. He said he was skydiving, but it was a bit weird because there was an unloaded bazooka strapped to his chest. At the same time one block over, there was a call for a certain rogue who ALSO fell out of the sky. Said rogue had minor burns and a face full of glitter.

So what happened? Glitter bazooka warfare? A penthouse rave gone wrong? Who's to say for certain?

But with all that said, welcome to Gotham!!