#this is me joking about the amount of names this ship has

[snarky-wallflower]

Coin Flip: A Ship Name Study

Otherwise known as: yes, hi, I am coping with the end of Searcher by focusing on this hot mess of a couple. I did one for Radiant Words, might as well again!

So, first off, I can't take credit for the name! That goes to my friend @amethystunarmed, a genius as always. I just wanna dive a little deeper into it, to convince others to start using it! So, why Coin Flip? Well, obviously it pulls on their titular song Two Sides of a Coin (god, I still think it's beautiful that the entire chat started shipping them at that.) The fascinating thing about Dakkar and Kal is that they truly seem to be just that! Two sides of the same coin! Neither of them can ever fully keep a victory, always struggling against each other. A flip of a coin - who wins? Who loses? Will there ever be an end to this fight, this relationship, that clearly has them both in a grip? They always fight to a draw, it's cosmic law.

What would you do without me, I'm not certain...

It's pretty clear that Kal respects Dakkar in a way he hasn't done so for any other character so far - Samuel, and AJ, for example. He spends time actually talking to Dakkar, negotiating with him. He doesn't see it as a joke, like Dakkar is beneath him. He didn't do that for anyone else!

Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Dak!

Everyone else has been boring.

Dakkar is the main event.

Meanwhile, Dakkar has kept on moving. He never even says Kal's name throughout the whole show. Mobilis in mobili, right? But he also knows where to dig when he needs to, insulting Kal with ease. Dakkar is furious here, practically brimming with rage. Kal brings out a side of him we haven't seen yet, and it's delightful to listen to.

I will stand, and you will falter! I'll be the rock of Gibraltar!

I will float and watch you sink, and it eats you up inside!

What is so interesting about this ship is the amount of history we can tell is there from a song that is only a couple of minutes! There's bitterness, there's knowing - these two go right for the THROAT when it comes to each other. Kal's jabs at Dakkar are a lot more personal than his to Sia ever were. (He went STRAIGHT for the daddy issues with Dakkar, damn.) Their strikes aim true, while they get in each other's heads.

They know each other like their other half--because maybe they were, once. Like the palm of their hand. Like the other side of a coin.

How well did they know each other?

Two sides of a coin.

The coin flips. Which side will it turn up on this time?

[hoffmanstits-enjoyer]

pspsps spiderio enjoyers pspspspsps spideysterio shippers pspspspsps quentinpeter aficionados pspspsps peterbeck lovers pspspsps mysterispider people pspspsps whatever name you have for quentin x peter pspspspsps

[davishater]

Mmh, ship so good, it's actually illegal! 😩👌

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

[rotthepoet]

Fwb!lorenzo so cocky cause he has to much control over you. For example you say something mean about one of his friends, he'll raise his eyebrows and tilt his head smirking as you start to stammer or if your beside him he might lightly tap the back over your thigh and mouth 'watch yourself' then being all smug when you melt away against him.

OMGGG YOU GET ITTTTTTTTTTT i have lorenzo brainrot just hear me out let me ramble

He has so much power in your situationship that like its a problem

Man basically owns you(he makes sure you know it too) like… and hes not even in an actual relationship with you??!?!??!! How did he do that???? If he was feeling extra freaky he so might put you in a collar with his name on the tag(honestly you wearing his name gets him going. Wearing his quidditch jersey? Hes cooked)

Okay okay because Lorenzo doesnt do ships. Relationships.

Not this lorenzo anyways, in some other universe you fix him and he gets better and loves you unconditionally, but not this one. This lorenzo has like 20 bitches under his belt aT ALL TIMES. You’re just his favorite right now. He actually likes you. Enjoys your company. Youre not just a fuck, youre a fuck he can stand being around. So with him it def starts as a one night stand but like

It doesnt…. one night

It was supposed to be a one night stand but it just continued, okay?

So anyways hes got you now, and essentially he treats you like a girlfriend but without the title or the love. you’re under his arm half the time. Just pressed against his side while he walks you to class. And like. You love this man. Youre desperate to fix him. Me too. But anyways youre spending a lot of time together.

And the reason it looks like you’re his girlfriend is because Lorenzo is SO controlling! He wants to know what youre doing 24/7, or he wants to tell you what to do. He has a quidditch match? Wear this and sit in this exact spot. You’re going out with your friends? You cant wear that. youre going to a bar? You have to leave if any guy talks to you.

And youre just kinda conditioned to it at some point.

You’re around Lorenzo enough that his friends know you now. They find you fun actually. You’re awesome. Anyways. So theres a lot of playful banner, calling one another pussies, making dirty jokes, you get the idea. And lorenzo really regrets this because he doesnt like sharing you attention! You were just supposed to sit pretty on his lap, not tell Theo to suck your dick!!!!

He isnt a fan of this. And he’ll let you know. A pinch to the back of your thigh? Right under your skirt? Oh you know to knock it off. The look he gives you across the room when you speak “out of turn”? Its such a turn on. He cocks his head to the side with an amused smile and it makes your pussy throb omg. You know youre getting it later.

Especially out in public. Hes got a fucking app on his phone that count up the amounts of times you pissed him off.

He gets so mean sometimes. Youre arguing and fighting and words are getting mean and you say something out of turn and he goes silent. And you go silent. And he has this dark look in his eye as he snaps, “watch your mouth.”

And it makes you crack every time. You’re wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering about how sorry you are, and he’s petting your hair before he grabs it and tells you not to let it happen again. It will happen again. Especially after he fucks the attitude out of you.

[bamsara]

I’m a little confused, who is Arson? Did you name your computer that or the program or something like that? Been trying to piece stuff together with all the posts about Arson but I feel a little lost. Like it’s an inside joke that I wasn’t there for the development of it

Rip I forgot new followers are not Aware of Arson

Arson is my laptop. Specifically a laptop sona I made for my laptop because of the sheer amount of trouble I've had with him. Twitch chat started shipping an 'enemies to lovers' between me and my laptop and it was giving me such a hard time during a livestream that it turned into a full fledged oc.

He's a gaming laptop I got in 2018 and had saved up for and while he's very good, his technical service life was only for 3 years and it's been about 5 and a half years since I've had him because I didn't want to replace him.

This means for the last two years he's been progressivly getting worse; starting with the battery going out completely, and then it getting discontinued so I couldn't replace it, the laptop started lagging hard, which I just kinda delt with. Then he's bluescreening a lot, and my files are getting corrupted and disappear. He cannot detatch from the wall so he's not a laptop anymore but really just a desktop now anyway. His model is discontinued so I cant get parts to replace him or have him repaired.

It's a running joke that 99% of all streaming problems are Arson's fault because for no reason he'll just. Crash and critcal error this and bluescreen that.

He got his name because he overheats really badly, and while gaming laptops are built to withstand that kind of heat, it still does wear and tear over time.

It would have been fine for 2-3 years but it's climbing near to 6 and part of the front is melted and I have to turn stream and art off early sometimes to let him cool down because the keyboard has left burns on my fingers. (Though this only happens when using him intensly, like streaming or gaming or art....which is 90% of what I do. The other being writing and work.) (Also before anyone asks, I regularly clean out the fans and I have a cooling stand beneath him)

Currently the top part of his keyboard is not working anymore and he's missing keys anyway. Part of his casing near the charging port is broken off. I've used his heat to cook tiny cookies while I've played skyrim before

TBH If you just search up Arson on my blog you'll see a whole series of posts about him.

he's my guy......my robot.........

[sturn1olo-ffics]

- VIOLET -

- Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (she/her pronouns used)

- Warnings: making out, pining, profanity, use of y/n; NOT PROOFREAD

- About: Reader has a huge crush on Matt but figures the feelings weren’t mutual due to a caption of his on Instagram. That is, until he shows up to her apartment and those thoughts are turned around.

—————————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV):

I’ve liked Matt for as long as I can remember. And the only person who knows that is Nick. Partially because I told him and partially because he could tell. I mean everyone could tell, right? There were edits of us all over social media shipping us… he had to have known… right?

Wrong.

Matt was the most oblivious person I have ever met in my entire life. You could outright tell him you love him and he still wouldn’t pick up that you have a crush on him.

Matt was my best friend and we told each other everything. Well maybe not everything since I still hadn’t told him about my crush on him.

It was a chilly Friday night in October and I was scrolling through my Instagram feed. I come across a post from a super gorgeous girl that Matt follows with the caption: “The after party”

I didn’t think too much about it, it was just a normal Instagram post. That is, until I came across Matt’s recent post with the caption: “Was on Wilson and 73rd”

The Color Violet by Tory Lanez. One of my favorite songs. Why was he matching captions with this gorgeous girl on Instagram?? Why didn’t he tell me he was talking to someone?? My heart sank into the floor.

“Nick-” I called him, tears slipping out of my eyes on the other side of the phone.

“Hey y/n- what’s wrong??” He could tell by my voice that I was upset.

“Can you just come over?” I replied quickly.

“Let me ask Matt if he can take me. I’ll text you babe.” He ended the call.

I winced a little when Matt’s name left his mouth. Why was I hurting this much? Was this just a crush or something more?

(NICK’s POV):

“Matt! Can you take me to y/n’s house right now? She seems upset and wants me to come over.” I asked Matt.

“Is she okay?? What’s wrong?? What’s going on??” Matt threw way too many questions on me all at once.

“Why the fuck are you questioning so much? With the amount of care you have for her you’d think you were like in love with her or some shit.” I joked.

“Shut the fuck up Nick.” He snapped.

“Woah- Mattitude. You don’t have to get mad, it’s not like you like her or anything.” I stepped back before he could shove me.

“I-” Matt started, but everything clicked in my head.

“WOAHHH WAITTTT DO YOU LIKE HER?” I excitedly raised my voice.

“NICK SHUT UP BRO HOLY FUCK” Matt screamed at me.

“You should tell her.” I giggled.

“Tell her what?” Matt questioned.

“That you like her? What else dumb fuck?” I started grabbing my things.

“Nick it’s not like that- okay maybe it is a little bit but I’m not telling her. Go get in the car.” Matt replied.

I grabbed my stuff and headed towards the car before me and Matt got in and drove to y/n’s.

(Y/N’s POV):

I heard a car pull up and immediately knew it was Nick.

“The front door’s unlocked.” I text him.

After seeing Matt pull off, I hear Nick make his way up the stairs and down the hall to my room.

“What’s wrong? You good?” Nick questioned upon entering my room.

“Dude I literally just saw Matt have a matching Instagram caption with this really really pretty girl and I’m having an anxiety attack which I don’t even know why because it’s not like he even would like me back anyway-” Nick cut me off before I could continue.

“Ok first, breathe exercise, remember? Second, what?” Nick asked, obviously concerned.

I showed him the posts.

“Y/n, babe, her post was an entire day after his was posted. He doesn’t even know her in real life. She probably just copied his caption to make it look like that.” He laughed.

The weight on my chest instantly lifted.

“There is no way I got that worked up over a misunderstanding.” I laughed along with him.

“Also, what makes you think Matt doesn’t like you?” He started interrogating me.

“Girl be for real.” I ran my hands through my hair.

“I am being for real.” He stated.

“He just wouldn’t, I know.” I laughed.

The conversation soon drifted to what our Halloween plans were and what we should do for a Thanksgiving video, ending with Nick leaving my apartment when Laura came to pick him up for a meeting.

That conversation with Nick honestly made me feel relieved, even though it didn’t get rid of my crush on Matt, which I wish would’ve happened.

I had just finished dinner, turned the LED lights in my apartment to a violet color, and pressed play on a Halloween movie when I heard a knock at my door.

“Hey” Matt said breathlessly as I opened the door.

“Matt?” I was so confused.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It’s chilly out there.” I giggled.

We sat down on the couch before continuing the conversation.

“Y/n I’m gonna get straight to the point. I love you. It’s you. It’s always been you. It always will be. And I know you don’t feel the same but-” I didn’t even let him finished before I spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” The words fell out of my mouth and I was almost embarrassed.

“Please.” Matt responded with a deep breath.

The kiss was passionate and hungry, like we had been parted for years.

His hands made their way to my waist, guiding me closer to him, while my hands roamed his hair.

Breaking away from the kiss, I responded: “I love you too” before tilting my head and deepening it.

After a few minutes, we pulled away and leaned back on the couch.

“Please be my girlfriend.” He begged.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I responded, smiling.

“Wow these purple lights are a really good touch in your apartment.” He laughed.

“Bro I know they’re so cool.” I giggled along with him.

I think I’m gonna keep my LED lights on violet more often.

—————————————————————————————

A/N: On a real note guys I’m so tired so I’m sorry if that was ass. Anyway, thought I’d feed y’all another fic. Peace and love 😗

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 少年歌行/The Blood of Youth

The Blood of Youth is a 2022 live-action adaptation of the tale of a deposed, disabled, and incredibly cunty prince who's on his way back to settle the score with his asshole father, and the rag-tag band of weirdos he accumulates along the way, including Spear Girl, Bad Monk, and Fire Puppy (pictured above).

I hope you like shounen anime, because this is the most shounen anime something is allowed to be without actually being based on something running weekly in Shounen Jump. What if Nirvana in Fire were also Naruto? It would be the Blood of Youth.

This show is an underrated gem of action-packed fun that not nearly enough people in English-speaking fandom have seen. In an attempt to correct that -- and ahead of an announced second season and prequel in progress -- I'm here with five reasons you should try it out.

1. Zero thoughts head empty

You do not have to pay an enormous amount of attention to this show to understand what's going on. The show itself does not always know what's going on. It got distracted by a shiny object over there, and now we're all gearing up to go punch the shiny object. We'll get back to the main plot when we're done with the punching.

It has a million billion plot threads going on at any given moment. Bad guys roll in from sects you've never heard of before, using superpowers with stupid names, only to get kicked into next week. There's approximately eleventy thousand characters -- so many, in fact, that I ran into problems several times while making this rec post, because there aren't readily available photos of everyone I want to talk about. Just look at the DramaWiki cast list. See how it goes on for like fifty screens? That's a little what the show feels like.

Except I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing, because the show knows it's doing this, and it acts accordingly. It telegraphs pretty well who's important and who isn't (and then it goes out of its way to color-code the latter, which is handy). What you're left with is absolutely a manga-style plot, complete with training arcs and semi-relevant sidequests, all working up to the final boss match.

It is an extremely self-aware show. On multiple occasions, something would happen, I would crack a joke about it, and then a beat later the show itself would make the exact same joke. I wouldn't call it an outright comedy, but it's still very funny, and on purpose. It has no illusions about being some kind of profound, meaningful epic. Mostly it's just here for a good time.

Yet this lightheartedness is what makes the powerful emotional parts really powerful by contrast. The show is not stupid; it's just goofing around most of the time. When it knuckles down, it can be devastating. And you know what? It does wind up being profound and meaningful about some stuff. How about that.

So yeah, if you're up for something that bops merrily right along and only occasionally rips your heart out, here you go!

2. Putting the poly in polycule

Bisexuals, rejoice! It's representin' time!

Here you go, I made a relationship chart of about 40% of the show's potential and canonical ships. I could have included so many more, but I only had so much space on the image, so I had to leave out some amazing ones, like the sword hedgehog who's real into this one cougar who could easily wipe the floor with him, or the rich nerd who thinks he has a chance with the aforementioned hot butch, or the fancy MILF who cheated on the emperor with a dreamy jianghu man and is trying not to cheat on him again with a different, slightly less dreamy jianghu man. See? There's just so much.

I would also say these are not exclusive ships. They are extremely inclusive ships. I am a fan of most (though admittedly not all) of the pairings listed here, and in fact of many of the three-and-more-somes indicated by these lines. They're such a cuddle puddle of shared intense feelings that it's hard to imagine anyone getting more than mildly jealous. Moreover, the potential for romance does not get in the way of hetero friendships; a boy and a girl who are each dating other people can go do adventures together, and (mostly) nobody gets weird about it, which is nice. If anything, what makes the overall dynamic so polycule-like is how equally friends and love interests get treated, meaning that it's not difficult to see a lot of crossover potential between those two categories.

If you're like me, you're hesitant about canonical romance, especially when it's straight, mostly because so many straight love stories wind up being tiresome, gross, and/or skull-poundingly boring. You will then be pleasantly surprised by how the canon pairings with members of the main cast are not like this at all!

Xiao Se and Sikong Qianluo are the main textual romance, and golly gee, they're just cute as heck. As the chart above indicates, I like interpreting them as two Kinsey 6's who have found their single exceptions, Mulder-and-Scully-style. Maybe one of the best things about their relationship is that it gets sidelined all the time for the plot. They're not so busy being in love that they forget to get shit done. Then they get a bit of downtime and get to go on a date, and you're like, aww, those sweet gay disaster babies are gonna do a little bit of heterosexuality. Just precious.

Tang Lian and Fairy Rui are right up there with the cuteness. She's a sex-positive dancing beauty who wants to ride that pretty boy like she stole him, and he's a shy sword boy so tightly bottled up that he'll explode if he sees a bare ankle. Avoiding spoilers, I will simply say that this is a pairing of two relatively soft people, until a bad thing happens to one of them and the other hardens up about it. If that's your jam, they're here for you.

Lei Wujie and Ye Ruoye are probably the most magical and the most practical of the bunch. They have a beautiful, super-dreamy, really horny sword-dance meet-cute, complete with its own pop song ... and then that's it, they're basically just together. She likes him, he likes her, good for them. In-laws aside, it's a refreshingly low-drama situation. Besides, I always love it when the hypercompetent woman gets the sweet, devoted himbo who'd do anything for her. Ruoye's had a hard life, and she deserves someone who can dick her down good at night and make her a nourishing breakfast the next morning.

And then there is, of course, The Ship:

Xiao Se and Wuxin are canonical, textual soulmates. The show treats their dynamic as more important than any other. It's so important, in fact, that the show has to sideline Wuxin for huge parts of the drama, lest everything get too damn gay. They each get a boyfriend catch on the other. They both do fairly reckless things when the other is in trouble. They are the secret hidden happy ending to the series. They share the kind of ride-or-die relationship built on mutually being the hugest bitches in any given room. Whether or not you think this is romance, it is extremely romantic, and the series agrees as much as it can, all things considered.

And if none of those flavors of love float your boat? Well, have you considered ... eunuchs?

3. She likes e4e

So I'm on record as being real into eunuch characters, right? Well, if you're with me on that, you are in for a treat here, because these are some absolutely buck-wild eunuchs.

There's five main ones, and I can't even begin to scratch the surface of what's going there. Like, really, I don't even think I understood all of what was happening with them. They're kind of the bad guys, but then they're kind of the good guys, but then some of them are the bad guys, but then they're just working for the bad guys, but then they screw over the bad guys, and ... it's just a lot, okay? It's a lot, and it's all happening with this bunch of catty bitches.

Also, you would not believe the difficult time I had finding any images for this section. I guess for some reason, fandom isn't way into a bunch of canonically dickless color-coordinated middle-aged men in weird hats? Whatever, man, they are missing out. If, however, you have the good sense to be into the intense and complicated (semi-romantic??) relationships among colleagues who also professionally just happen to be missing their external genitalia, buddy, strap in (and maybe strap on, depending).

Don't let me oversell how much these guys are in the show. They're not. They're vaguely important at points throughout, and they become incredibly important near the end, but they're hardly main characters. They're mostly back at the palace, doing their various schemes and looking absolutely fantastic.

So if they're such a minor part of the story, why do they get their own selling point? Well, I think their presence is a good example of two specific things about the show:

Specific thing the first: It's so queer -- not gay, but queer. Thinking back to my last selling point, you will notice how many of those straight pairings may look normie on the outside, but once you get down to it are not playing by cishet rules. (For instance, I've seen a lot of people read Tang Lian's resistance to sexual advances as asexuality, which, sure!) Likewise, there are lots of incredibly important, intimate relationships that don't conform to standard romantic pair dynamics. Add to that a lot of bodies with unusual characteristics and conditions, and you've got the makings of plenty of delightful non-normative love stories.

Specific thing the second: There are so many things going on with so many side characters that there's a kink here for everyone. Don't care for eunuchs? How about slinky villains with mind-control powers? Devoted servants who would do anything for their masters? Former bad guys who owe life-debts to the good guys who saved them? Bonded pairs traipsing around the jianghu together? Sons nursing legitimate grudges against the men who killed their fathers? Alcoholic widowers with incredibly slutty necklines? Mysterious cross-dressers with unconvincing moustaches? Vengeful brides? Martial siblings? Murderous royals? Guilt-ridden half-siblings? Boring star-crossed lovers? All these and more! It's a smorgasbord of rarepair fuel!

Also, I just love these toxic drama queens. It's like if RuPaul's Drag Race had the authority to have you executed.

4. The most intriguing outfits I've ever seen in anything (and yes, I'm including Winter Begonia)

Time for a fashion show!

The asymmetrical fits, the detailed embroidery on everything, the brilliant colors -- everybody just looks so good. And yet everything still looks ... eh, I don't know if "practical" is the word I want, but at least wearable. Nobody's dragging ten-foot trains of fabric behind them or wrapped in eighty floofy layers of gauze (except Rui, but she's special). Their outfits are strange and elaborate, but they don't defy physics.

What's truly stunning is how often they get new outfits. Xiao Se alone changes clothes about once every other episode, and more if he's getting a flashback. He is the fashion plate of the whole series, and every look he serves is pitch-perfect.

They're not outright color-coded, but the main characters do have certain colors associated with them -- which is extra-fun when you watch those colors bleeding into their friends' clothes as their relationships get stronger. I also think -- and I'm willing to be proven wrong on this point, but I think I'm right -- that they recycle some characters' outfits into parts of other characters' outfits. On more than one occasion, I'd swear that Lei Wujie shows up wearing the left half of something Xiao Se was wearing a few episodes back (tailored to fit him, of course, because that dumb ponytail boy is tall).

Where I think the costume design gets massive points, though, is that the costumes are themselves adaptations.

Before the live-action series, there was a 2018 3D animated donghua. I have never watched the latter, but apparently the drama is intensely faithful to the animated visuals, to the point where some fights are shot-for-shot remakes.

Of course, you can do a lot more with unreal clothing and bodies in animation -- and you can show a lot more skin, at least according to Chinese content laws. The live-action costumers chose to preserve about as many of the appearance beats from the donghua as they could manage, while still accepting the limitations of real-life bodies and materials. You can see some side-by-side comparisons here. The live-action outfits manage to be instantly recognizable without being slavishly devoted recreating to their inspirations.

So if you're sick and tired of dreary, ill-lit shows with bland palettes, this vibrant, colorful drama may be just the thing for you. It's a rainbow from start to finish.

5. Actually a good central plot?

Despite all the wacky delightful shounen nonsense that this show has -- and it has a lot -- the core of the whole narrative, which is Xiao Se's story, is surprisingly great and cohesive.

The short version is this: Xiao Se used to be Xiao Chuhe, sixth prince and somewhat heir apparent. Then he and his jerk-ass dad had a falling-out that resulted in the prince's having his martial arts abilities all but taken from him. He's been living the life of a very well-dressed innkeeper for several years, trying to avoid all of that palace garbage. But now his jerk-ass dad is dying, which means that a lot of horrible decisions are finally having unfortunate consequences for everyone, and Xiao Se's got to get back in there to make sure everything does not go to shit and land someone terrible on the throne -- even if it has to mean taking it himself.

His central conflict is between what he used to be and what he's become. Does he miss being Xiao Chuhe, high-ranked martial artist and future emperor? Or is he happier being Xiao Se, long-suffering nobody who can barely run a business, much less hold his own in a fight? What would he be willing to do to get back what he's lost? What are his obligations to himself versus his obligations to everyone else? How much is he responsible for his father's bullshit? And why has he wound up having to babysit this stupid Fire Puppy?

It's okay, they're best friends now. Lei Wujie decided.

No spoilers, but I liked Xiao Se's ending a lot. I feel it's very true to the character and shows a real understanding of who he is and what he values. And really, at the end of the day, sometimes all you need for a happy ending is your girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend's boyfriend who's also your boyfriend, your other boyfriend, his girlfriend, and your long-distance for-real soulmate.

Feel like giving the youths a try?

You can find them on YouTube or on Viki. But be absolutely sure that no matter where you watch it, you make sure to go watch the epilogue as well. (And if you get real into the story, well, here's a link to information about all the other adaptations.)

You are also welcome for how I did not spend this post going off for five hundred years on how much I love Wuxin and his funky relationship to Buddhism. I figured that's way too niche of a selling point for most people, and might indeed have even been counterproductive. But know that I could have.

Also, I'm very happy about the announcement of a second season, because that's going to mean Liu Xueyi has to shave his head again, and he looks unbearably good with a shaved head.

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the whole motorcycle photoshoot?

In case you hadn't noticed, the whole cast is stupidly hot. Hachi machi.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Eddeth

Day #30 - Fame & Fortune | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Fake!Eddeth, Steddie | Tags: Modern AU, Stop Trying to Make Eddeth Happen, It's Not Gonna Happen, Eddie & Gareth Are Best Friends, They Are Also: Idiot², Paparazzi, Social Media, Luddite Eddie, Steve Harrington Has To Clean Up All Their Messes, But What Else Is New?

"Did you know they're shipping us?" 

"Shipping us where? I hope they poke holes first," Eddie says, looking over at Gareth as he's scrolling on his phone. Gareth isn't listening to him, doesn't even laugh, which Eddie thinks is rude. That was a great dad joke.

He's picked up dad jokes from Steve, because Steve's corny as fuck. 

"Not like that," Gareth says, "like, shipping us together. We have a name and everything."

"Speak English," Eddie demands.

"You know, like Bennifer? But we're Eddeth," Gareth says.

"Who's Bennifer?"

"Which version?" Gareth asks, "Nevermind. You don't care. It's the ship name for Ben and Jennifer together. Do you never read the tabloids?"

"No. And I don't like that," Eddie says.

"Well, I knew you wouldn't. But now they're thinking about us. Together. Romantically. Enough that we have a mash-up of our names together."

Eddie barks out a laugh, "Well, alright. Whatever floats their boat."

Gareth sits there quietly for a bit, then says, "Maybe we can use this. Drum up some attention for the band. Get our name out there. Be a trending hashtag."

"I don't know what that means," Eddie says. 

"I know you don't. But we could, like, get in the zeitgeist."

"I hate everything you're choosing to be right now," Eddie says.

"Eddie. This could blow us up."

"Well, sure, in that case I'll tell Steve to just step aside."

"Not for real, dummy. Just for the paparazzi. Get our names talked about more. If they see more of the band, they may like the band more."

Eddie says he'll think about it, but he has no intention of doing any of that. They are exactly the right amount of famous. He can walk down the street without being harassed, but they live comfortably. He isn't about to upset that apple cart.

But it persists. There's buzz, apparently. At least according to Gareth, anyway.

So, at the next show, Eddie hops up on the drum riser and covers Bang Dem Sticks, while flirting with Gareth. It is possible to flirt platonically, and he does it very well. 

The next day, Gareth shows him all the chatter. The tiktoks. The commentary. And, well, maybe they could use this to their advantage. Just for a minute.

So, they walk down a dozen different sidewalks, and no paparazzi cameras pop out to snap pictures. Which is normal. He isn't sure why Gareth suddenly thought they'd make TMZ. 

But Gareth persists, and they even go to the Ivy, and still nothing. 

Even LAX is a fucking bust. 

That night, Eddie crawls into bed next to Steve, and sighs.

"What's the matter with you?" Steve asks, tipping down his iPad to look at Eddie.

"Nobody will take my picture with Gareth."

Steve laughs, "What the hell are you talking about?"

So, Eddie tells him their grand plan, and Steve is laughing his fucking ass off before Eddie can even finish. 

"Eddie. You have to call the paps if you want to do a pap walk. They aren't mind-readers. They don't just show up. Do you think all those pictures of celebs you see are actually candid? They definitely aren't."

Well, Eddie never looks at pap pictures. He has no fucking clue. He likes to fly under the radar.

"Really?" Eddie eventually asks. 

"Really. Do you want me to organize a pap walk for you?" Steve asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Well. Kinda," he says, "we're Eddeth."

"I know, honey. I've seen all the videos of you flirting with him on stage."

Eddie laughs, "You know that's not real, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm not new here," Steve says, "I'll call it in tomorrow. You can be photographed to your heart's content."

And they are. As if it were magic, a handful of photogs are suddenly very aware of where they'll be on various outings. Eddie holds the door for Gareth. Hugs him on the street corner. They get an inordinate amount of coffees that Eddie doesn't even like.

The pictures run, and not a lot of people care, but they are being discussed in some circles. 

So, they keep doing it. Dinners and movies and trips through the airport where they're not really going anywhere. Only going through security, as if they were.

That's a brand new kind of torture. Who goes through TSA when they don't actually have to? 

More coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Eddie's never bought this many drinks in his life. 

And then the bottom falls out. 

Someone makes a video that goes extremely viral, explaining everyone in their Corroded Coffin circle. 

Including Steve. 

In fact, it's almost mourning the breakup of them. Steddie. They're Steddie, apparently, and now the fans, the real fans, those that actually have followed them, are upset. Pointing fingers, assigning blame. Some to Eddie, some to Gareth.

Fuck.

"Uh, we've got a problem," Eddie tells Steve, and Steve just shakes his head, already aware of the situation.

"Do we have to do a pap walk now?" Eddie asks, worrying his hands together. 

He never did anything romantic with Gareth. It can all be explained away, swept under the rug. 

He thinks.

He hopes.

"I really don't want to," Steve says, and that's that. They won't.

Now, Eddie's either a cheater in the eyes of their actual fans, or they think Steve's gone. 

Instead, Gareth does a couple pap walks with his girlfriend, and she's branded a beard, immediately. They really fucked this up, big time. 

"We'll go to dinner. The four of us," Steve says, "I'll call it in."

And Eddie kisses his cheek, over and over.

Just to be safe, Steve has their publicist send TMZ a copy of their marriage certificate, and some boilerplate that Eddie and Gareth are just best friends, and always have been.

As they settle into the booth at the restaurant, pictures still being taken, Steve asks, "Are we done trying to be tabloid fodder? Have we learned our lesson?"

"Yes, Steve," Eddie and Gareth both say in unison.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[sl-vega]

0.1; retired theater kids-(y/n's squad)

project: love liason! - a scaramouche smau

y/n:

hopelessly in love with childe (has been since freshman year) you are on fairly good terms with him, (even if half of your interactions play out in your head rather than reality)

(ridiculously) hopeful romantic

you were the one who started your friend group after you met everyone else in a drama camp during eighth grade (hence the name retired theater kids)

the "responsible" friend (even though the general consensus is that lynette and navia are the actual responsible ones)

mona:

your best friend and scara's academic "rival". having been forced to have tons of classes together in the past two years, mona and him have been pretty cut throat when it comes to them competing with each other

mona finds him insufferable, and has vented to you about him on numerous occasions, even though you've never even met the guy

super into astrology and zodiacs

she's well known around campus for having scary accurate predictions

"that wasn't on your 2024 bingo card? well it was on MINE."

furina:

president of the drama club at your school, and is often put in charge of directing all of the drama club's shows

she used to be a semi-popular child actress that frequently appeared in famous kids shows, but she took a break recently to focus more on her directing career

was essentially a guarantee for any lead in school productions when she was younger

absolute drama queen

navia frequently keeps her up to date with all the latest gossip so she's a real treat to talk to

lyney:

lynette's older twin brother, and a part time magician for kids birthday parties

one of the girls

also a member of the drama club

both an actor and member of the stage crew as he helps with special effects for productions as well

wants to continue working in the film industry after high school

bounces around as a freelance worker instead of being tied down to a specific gig despite having many offers from several places

says that if he waits the salary offers will get higher

lynette:

lyney's younger twin sister and part time magic assistant

her brother often jokes that she ditched him, but she just preferred to explore her own interests outside of lyney's career

member of both the drama club and science club

unlike lyney she only helps with behind the scenes work

most notably special effects, but she's more interested in the scientific aspect of making it work

navia:

DEFINITION of an fbi friend

knows everything about everyone, does loyalty tests on people's boyfriend's sometimes if they pay her

picks up crazy amounts of info, and has a shit ton of connections to tons of people and places

doesn't disclose how she finds out all of this

the type of friend that can find someone only by their first initial

give her a single piece of info and BOOM

she has their full legal name, all their social media accounts, the location of the grocery store they frequent, and their parent's Facebook pages

currently in a situation ship with chlorinde

additional notes:

profiles are out!

not much I wanna say but yeah :D

i'll try my best to do frequent updates

if you wanna be tagged just send me an ask/comment!

𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: you're head over heels in love with childe, and scaramouche is (begrudingly) smitten with his "rival" mona. and, by sheer divine coincidence, you both happen to be the best friends of each other's objects of affection, so you strike a deal with each other. if scaramouche helps you ask out childe, you'll set him up with mona. so with the annual spring formal right around the corner, the two of you vow to be each other's wingmans so you can end your junior year on a high note (and maybe even kick off your senior year with a new relationship!). between, scheming, planning, and researching, you and scaramouche find yourselves developing a new relationship via helping each other out. now the real question is whether this friendship will remain as a pure platonic bond, or blossom into something more?

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🎀 - taglist!;

@agaygothicmushroom, @035814, @freyao7, @sketcheeee, @tsukimara, @shyentsmissingink, @justpeachyteastea, @aries-afk, @lxkeeeee, @sakiimeo, @sugxryratz, @shutingstar, @lalaloveallmydays, @bellflower1257, @haruumei, @kichiyosh1, @littlemisssatanist, @dee-zbignuts, @candyescapism, @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully

[preservationofnormalcy]

[It is November of 2021. I am being led down a hallway that looks more like it should be on a ship than a government building. Metal walls with painted horizontal lines down its length, marked with “water depth” markers every 30 feet or so. My guide is a bored-looking man in a suit, balding, checking his clipboard. I seem to remember his name is Clarke, but he’s not who I’m here to see.]

M] Does this tunnel flood?

C] Hm?

M] The water markers.

C] Oh, those. Not unless something bad happens. She’s pretty good about it.

M] Is her name really –

C] Yth’Wa, Herald of Change. Yes. Changed it legally. Not that she gets out much.

M] …kind of an indoorsy person?

C] I mean she’s never in the outside world.

M] Not even to get food?

C] She has people for that.

[Suddenly, from doorways that lead off the hallway, we are joined by six figures wearing yellow robes that conceal their identities entirely. I smell brine and dead fish. Clarke looks back and seems to count the figures, but otherwise doesn’t react.]

M] Is this a joke? 

C] Wish it was, ma’am. Hey, fellas.

[Two of the figures wave. We approach a bulkhead at the end of the hall, and Clarke spins the wheel lock. The taste of salt hits my mouth - like the seaside, like brine. Clarke enters the chamber beyond, and three of the figures follow him. Three of them wait behind me, as if waiting to escort me. After a moment’s hesitation, I enter the chamber.

It is dark, hewn from rough stone, sloping downward into dark water. I look up, and the ceiling cannot be seen in the darkness. Utility lights illuminate the path downward, a few of them trailing into the still water. Clarke takes up a post next to the door, and the yellow figures form a pattern facing the water. Two of them kneel, two of them prostrate themselves, and two raise their hands and begin a chant. 

I can’t help myself. I back up, and whisper to Clarke.]

M] You cannot be serious.

C] You’re the one that wanted to meet her. 

M] Who the hell am I meeting? 

[Wordlessly, Clarke points to the water. A figure is emerging. 

A humanoid figure, also clad in yellow robes. Her hood is pulled low over her face, only the bottom half of her face visible. She has both hands placed together, palms pressed together in a gesture of prayer. She walks calmly from the water, up the incline, and it becomes clear she must be…seven feet tall, or more. Pallid grey-green skin is visible under her hood, and her hair….not hair. Tentacles. Tendrils roll down her shoulders and chest, spill from her sleeves. Her face is thin, her cheeks are marked with slits - gills.

As she emerges, she joins the chant with her own voice. As water spills from her form, fully on dry land now, her words change to English. An unearthly, inhuman voice…but not unpleasant.]

Yth’Wa] Fathoms deep, fathoms old. Fathoms dark, fathoms cold. We leave the cradle, leave the fold. To serve the one, the Lord in Gold. 

[There is a pause. Yth’Wa smiles and stands beyond the yellow figures, who are silent but have not moved from their spots. She is close to me, and seems to regard me with a small smile. Her face is…unnatural, but not ugly. Something beyond. When she speaks, it is with a strange resonance, and no small amount of amusement.]

Y] Ms Hendricks. I was told of your coming.

M] …wh…Yth’Wa?

Y] Do not be afraid.

[She moved her arms, spreading them out. Water dripped off her robes, and tentacles slipped back into her sleeves.]

Y] I am an ally of the Office. I do not harm the unbeliever, as they have their part to play in the grand Circle. The King Of All And Nothing has spoken, and we listen.

M] I don’t…I don’t know what to say. 

Y] Then speak your truth. 

M] ….I’m here to ask you questions.

[Yth’Wa’s smile widens. Her teeth are sharp, triangular, serrated. I look back at Clarke, who seems nonplussed. He looks at his phone and swears softly, seemingly realizing he doesn’t get reception here. Yth’Wa’s tone is not unfriendly, but somehow…as if she’s humoring me. Slight but not aggressive sarcasm rolls off her lips.]

Y] Inquisitiveness is what drew us all to the Circle, Ms Hendricks. It is a virtue worthy of the Yellow Empty. This is a holy quest. 

M] I feel like I’m being condescended to. 

Y] No force in the ocean could compel me to do so. 

M] But on land? 

[She puts her hands back together with a playful smile.] 

Y] What are your questions, my dear?

M] …I was going to ask you about the poster, but first…who are you? 

Y] I am Yth’Wa, Herald of Change, leader of the Yellow Circle. 

M] And what is the…Yellow Circle? 

[Yth’Wa gestures to the other figures in yellow behind her.] 

Y] We are the children of the One Who Dwells Between. We reach out in humility and hope to the space beyond our candlelight, and we embrace what we find. Our god, the Golden Father, shepherds us into the dark void, and bestows upon us gifts that we take upon ourselves gladly. 

M] And you’re….allied with the Office? They’re okay with this. 

[Yth’Wa’s smile is slightly more amused, almost smug. Her tone is like kindly addressing a child.] 

Y] It’s our world too, Meghan. We live here. We have a vested interest in keeping the things that slither around the lighthouse of the human mind at bay…or under our control. The Office often finds these skills useful. Such as your poster.

M] The….sock a Shoggoth one.  

Y] Indeed. It’s an old one. You saw a ripple of waters past, Ms Hendricks.

M] Sorry? 

Y] Do you know of Operation Deep Whisper? 

M] I…I don’t, no. 

Y] Mmmh. 

[She steps forward. I’m unsure of what to do, and in my hesitation, she walks around me. Studying me, her eyes never visible but nonetheless biting into me.]

Y] You’ve met Josiah. Josiah Carter. 

M] Of Psychotronics? 

Y] Of those who wade in pools they will drown in. Tell me. Did he talk about the things they invited? 

M] He mentioned things that…came from their experiments. 

Y] Poor Josiah. He knew only half of what he unleashed. 

M] I don’t think I understand. 

[Yth’Wa took in a deep breath.]

Y] When men take hammers to glass, they should not be surprised when it leaks. Those at the Office, in their uniforms and titles. They frayed the real in order to see through it, and they didn’t like what they saw. What they let through. By the 1960s, the camera obscura  they had made in their blind stabbing through reality had become a tear. A broken fence post, and of course things came through. Things…not under our control. 

M] The things he described sounded horrific. What are they?

Y] Me and mine are…inured to them, somewhat. The Office now calls them Outsiders. Entities from other spaces, other realms, dimensions beyond ours. Beyond the veils. As you can imagine, they are often dangerous to humanity. Physically violent, or ontologically inimical to human life. Often...alien thought patterns, incompatible with the mortal mind. Ontologically incompatible - too many of them, and their reality leaks into ours...impossible geometry, mosses and fungi that degrade the integrity of realspace. Or reality, as humans see it.

M] And you can control them?

Y] More or less. Keep them at bay, influence their behavior. Sometimes they can appreciate something that thinks like them. But all that and more were slowly being unleashed through the world, a secret plague that threatened to collapse the Office’s so called normality. Beasts, anomalies, and forces threatened even our way of life. 

M] So they asked the Yellow Circle for help. 

Y] Indeed. I was not the leader at the time, but the Circle allied with the Office to eradicate this plague. Using resources and funding from the more mundane conflict in Vietnam, we battled the Outsider across the globe throughout the 1960s, and into the 70s. Our people call it Gul’tho Z’Thuth G-Uz, the Conflict of Brother Blood. But the Office calls it Operation Deep Whisper. It is there your posters come into play - propaganda, encouragement for a war against an enemy so alien that they cannot be understood. 

[That smile again.] 

Y] By the Office, anyway.  

M] And it worked? 

Y] You had not heard of Outsiders before you came to the Office, had you? We saved the world, Ms Hendricks. Our world. 

M] I guess we can chalk that one up as a success. 

Y] Indeed. 

M] I don’t feel the need for most of my questions….Yth’Wa. But I guess I had another. 

Y] Speak freely. 

M] You were…human, right? All of you, but especially you. Who were you before you were Yth’Wa?

[There is a moment of silence. Yth’Wa looked…momentarily annoyed, her thin lips turning down at the ends in a way that made my stomach churn. But after a moment, she seemed to reset, relax her posture.]

Y] Who I was is dead. The One Whose Sign Dances saw me for who I was, and made me into something…more. More real, more truthful. Who I was is…dead. Do you understand? 

M] I….I think I do. 

Y] Magnificent. If you had no further questions….

[She steps forward, and I flinch. She pauses, as if attempting not to spook an animal, reaching into her robes and slowly pulling free a single scallop shell. It shined like an oil spill in the dim light, runes and markings along the outside of the shell. They hurt to look at.]

Y] If you wish to see me again, throw this shell into the largest body of water you can reach in a day’s walk under the light of the moon. I will see you, I will reach you. And we can talk. 

M] …thank you, Yth’Wa.

Y] May the Shattered Lord keep you and guide you. 

M] Let the…the Keeper of Yellow—- oh, god, what…what was that? I can taste it. 

[Yth’Wa laughs, leaning in further, teeth gleaming in the odd light.]

Y] Truth. Oh, Ms Hendricks. You’ve tasted truth. 

(Buy the poster here!)

[ominous-feychild]

✦ MY WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION ✦

Hey! I've been here for a while and I've somehow amassed a shocking amount of followers and mutuals, so I figured it's finally time for me to force one of these out for you guys!

(And you know... a masterpost... when I get around to it. 😅😭)

About me:

✦ Barlowe (she/her)

✦ In my early 20s

✦ A writer of 10 years ✦ working on novels for 6 of 10!

✦ Less dedicated to—but still interested in!—drawing, animation, photography, and cinematography

✦ AuDHD and a grey lesbian (aka I'm leaning asexual) ✦ (my writing may or may not be a special interest)

✦ I have a whole bunch of other neurodivergencies besides AuDHD but I don't think y'all want me to get into all of them, haha. ✦ oh, and I say "haha" a lot. I apologize in advance.

✦ I think I'm hilarious and make jokes constantly

✦ I use a lot of emojis and tone tags to help convey tone. Please forgive me if it's annoying, it's to cope with my inability to communicate. /lh /hj

Masterlists:

✦ General ✦ Worldbuilding ✦ Sun and Shadow ✦ The Arcane Rifts ✦ Rising From the Ashes

(will be added eventually)

My Obsessions:

✦ Fantasy, horror, mystery, action, and exploration of realistic characters' reactions to the things they go through.

✦ Fairy tales, mythology, and folklore

✦ "Ye Olde History" and language

✦ DIVERSITY!!!

✦ Explorations of "evil-coded" characters and abilities--aka, not just showing them as evil. Show them as people (for characters) and tools (for abilities)!

✦ Traumatizing my characters just like I've been

✦ Traumatizing my characters in ways I haven't been!

✦ Learning!!!

✦ Talking way too much about the things I like to the point that I need to make a whole separate post to share it so it doesn't clutter my intro post... oh, hey, why is this linked?

✦ THE AESTHETIC!!!!

My Aesthetics:

Those who've been following me for a bit probably know that I adore "the aesthetic" and try to make my posts look nice... even if there's no real reason to besides that it gives me a little serotonin. Here's my favorite aesthetics!

✦ Starry; night sky ✦ Dawn / dusk ✦ Sunrise / sunset

✦ Nature! ✦ Forestry ✦ Cottagecore ✦ Rustic ✦ Ocean

✦ Literally all of them, please and thank you

My Writing:

✎ Sun and Shadow

Everything goes wrong for Freya Ula when she leaves her simple life as a fisherwoman to get engaged overseas. Her ship gets wrecked, she finds out her dad's been hiding secrets from her for her whole life, and, oh, she gets framed for a terrorist attack. Wait, WHAT!? After the city's greatest detective is attacked and disappears before she could consult with him, Frey has to enlist the help of his kid and her would-be fiancée to find out who framed her and clear her name. If only Crow was half as good a detective their dad was supposed to be.

Main characters: Freya, Crow, Daleira

✦ Urban-esque high fantasy ✦ purposely very tropey in places ✦ however, as always, I love throwing in curveballs. Wonder what's played straight and what I'm going to emotionally destroy you with. Definitely won't be Crow.

✦ Slow-burn romance between Frey and Crow ✦ immediate interest between Frey / Daleira ✦ oh, look, it's a love triangle? ✦ JOKE'S ON YOU, IT'LL ACTUALLY BE POLY ✦ it's just... going to take a while.

✦ Lesbians, lesbians everywhere ✦ though Crow is actually genderfluid and uses they/them for the first book ✦ despite barely having anything written I've already plotted a bit of book 2 ✦ I desperately need help.

✦ Unsurprisingly is a detective mystery with action mixed in ✦ I'm not typically a romance writer, I excel in action fantasy ✦ please have mercy on my soul

✦ Lots of magic, it's high fantasy + victorian aesthetic ✦ (aka "gaslamp fantasy" if you've heard of it) ✦ Frey's got sun-themed magic ✦ gasp, I know ✦ Crow's got shadow magic ✦ wonder why this sounds familiar ✦ Daleira's got, hm, well it's also shadowy! ✦ spoilers 😘

✦ About to be updated en-masse for a writing contest!!!

✎ The Arcane Rifts

Ghosts of past tragedies haunt the town of Kavo after decades of neglect. Fantastical creatures desiring nothing but fear and destruction hide in invisible tears in reality. Gangs and the police are at constant war with one another, there's a shapeshifting monster running amok, and the mayor's assistant suddenly wants a disabled orphan kicked to the streets. A year ago, Gene was discovered in the forest on the outskirts of town, half dead, amnesiac, and unable to even speak the local language. As he had nowhere to go, he was brought to the orphanage of Kavo for a place to stay. Now Caspar, the assistant of the mayor and the man who funds the orphanage, wants him kicked out. When Gene's left to the cold, cruel streets of Kavo on his own, he has to navigate through a town ravaged by decades of neglect and intrigue. Has the corruption truly been purged from the government? Why are godly forces active in Kavo, a small town in a backwater country? And most importantly--will Gene survive?

Main Characters: Gene, Tazin, Mislav, Ludmila, Rada ❧ Gene and Tazin for book 1 ❧ the other 3 start being MCs books 2 and 3 ❧ I guess Nikolai is also a MC tho

❧ Industrial-era rustic high fantasy ❧ mixes fantasy, action, horror, and mystery! ❧ oh helloooooo "ominous feychild" origin? ❧ very strong folkloric and traditional fantasy inspo ❧ except I mean "traditional fantasy" as in ❧ "we don't understand this magic stuff but we're used to it" ❧ not "travel the world adventures!"

❧ VERY involved story with strong themes of discrimination, poverty, exploitation, trauma, and the recovery from trauma ❧ each main and secondary character is one flavor of discriminated against or another in-universe ❧ obviously I try to write it respectfully, but you can't really write bigots being bigots "respectfully"

❧ Has two "main plots" going on simultaneously; technically three ❧ I periodically give the reader updated "character guides" ❧ like they get more recent plot info added kinda like a red-string board to keep you, the audience, up-to-date with info you might've otherwise missed ❧ I think it's really cool and people seem to enjoy it ❧ I know it seems like a lot but please give it a chance

❧ I've literally plotted out pretty much the entirety of the first and second books, and know most of how book 3 will go, yet there's very little out for the current version of the story ❧ part of that is because I'm paused on the 3rd draft

❧ There's lots of timeskips throughout the first two books, but they're mostly to age up the protagonists! Gene, the MC, starts the series at 7. I promise it's not a kid's story though.

❧ The "secondary MC", Nikolai, is the police chief investigating magical stuff going on at the same time. They tie in with the main story involving Gene, though won't appear to for a long while.

❧ The "golden child" series I love more than SaS; however it's on hiatus because I promised people to work on SaS first and SaS is more popular as a romance-focused story. :/ ❧ I would never be salty about that.

Taglist:

For everything: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter

For Worldbuilding: @paeliae-occasionally

For Sun and Shadow: @mysticstarlightduck @paeliae-occasionally

For the Arcane Rifts: @paeliae-occasionally

For Rising From the Ashes: N/A

To be tagged in tag games: @honeybewrites @aalinaaaaaa

Ask and ye shall be added

Divider by @cafekitsune

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Silly Billy & Pocket Home?

"Silly Billy" is a compilation of the Shazamilly calling marvel "Silly Billy" in front of various other heros. If he had a heart in this form it would stop everytime because his family is literally saying his name in front of a bunch of people who dont know his identity and it takes him a second to realize he wasnt just exposed. he tries so hard to hide his panic but hes a terrible actor and his family thinks its hilarious. The Justice League think its just a childish nickname and not his actual name but Cap acts so weird every time? Does he think 'silly billy' is an insult or something?

Not sure if I’ll ever finish this one. There’s not much I can do with a single joke lol. The other fic, however…

—-

"Pocket home" has a bit more of a plot to it.

Billy needs a place to sleep. The rock of eternity is far too dangerous to be unconscious in thanks to the many monsters lurking in its halls, and the abandoned buildings he used to use are unsafe for similar reasons after the police start patrolling the poorer parts of Fawcett to chase away the homeless and arrest them through the night. So Billy learns how to create a pocket dimension. It’s safe from monsters and people alike and can be used as a place to store his things without risking them being stolen so he lives there from then on. Over the years his collection of items grows, as does his need to hoard even more…

A few years later…

While in a spaceship on their way to a distant star, an unexpected enemy attacks the ship. The justice league, not expecting any trouble for at least a few days, is not prepared to enter space and will all die when the ship is broken in approximately five seconds. With no time to think about consequences, Billy tosses them all into a pocket dimension, staying out to fight the unknown threat that ambushed and destroyed the most well protected spaceship in the Milky Way in seconds- all by himself.

The league is disoriented and dizzy from unexpected dimension travel and so It takes them a moment to realize they weren’t sucked into space like they by should’ve been. They look around to see where they ended up- an infinitly large void. They are standing on nothing with stars visible from all directions, almost like they’re floating or standing on some kind of invisible barrier. There are no visible walls, but a short distance away there’s a section full of items including a bed, a stuffed tiger, and many many boxes full of items. Almost like someone lives here.

Did Marvel just punt them into the void? Specifically his home in the void?

Cue the justice league snooping through the items in an attempt to find a way out.. With the sheer amount of stuff there is here it’s gonna take a while, but it’s been hours now and Captain Marvel still hasn’t come to let them out so they likely won’t be caught any time soon.

…that’s definitely something they should be worried about.

The fic follows the justice league as they try to find a way to survive in this strange place while searching for a way out to save their friend. If there’s any friend left to save, that is, and with every second they sit there with no sign of rescue the less likely that seems. Watch as they slowly piece together the life of their most mysterious friend, one trinket at a time.

(Details may change drastically. I think this fic has a lot of potential and if it takes me completely rewriting it to reach that potential, so be it!)

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

About the blog:

This is created just for fun to poll people on their opinions on ships, because shipping culture is something that I find fun. I’m sure this has been done before but I haven't seen any active blogs doing it, except for tournaments. Please stay civil and block the people that make you angry. (Or just ignore them.)

I also run the blog @do-you-know-this-baby and @aretheyqueer

I’m mainly going to be focusing on anime or cartoon ships, but you can submit any show/movie/book/game etc.

Pedophilia and incest is not allowed, but am otherwise lenient with it. I don’t consider myself a proshipper, and will sometimes deny ships that aren't technically illegal. If I accidentally post something awful then you can let me know.

I'm not posting Harry Potter, Hazbin hotel or Helluva boss characters.

This blog is lgbt+ friendly, of course. 

Feel free to send me an ask if you’d like to ask questions or have a suggestion, or something else to say.

Other similar blogs (none are affiliated with me):

@do-you-ship-this-comic-ship

@do-you-ship-this-book-couple

@worlds-worst-ships

@are-they-queerplatonic

@shouldtheydivorce

@quadranted

Submission rules:

Submissions can be sent through the form below, or through an ask to this account!

No real people

One ship per form, but you can send in multiple forms at a time.

There are currently 800+ submissions so it'll take a while to get through all of them, but your submission could show up at any time since I don't really go in order as much as I should.

I also sometimes miss duplicate submissions so if your text isn't included, I apologize!

Here is a spreadsheet with all published ships and their votes, if you prefer it over the blog search feature, or want to check something easily. It also includes denied ships.

Fandom jail

Fandom jail is for fandoms who bother me too much but don't deserve to be banned forever. This means polls featuring these characters will be put on hold. The fandoms currently in jail are:

None!

Tags used:

#anime ; #cartoons ; #movies ; #tv shows ; #books etc

#not a poll

#asks

#fanart friday (feel free to send me fanart you want to be featured)

#crackship poll and #april fools for joke polls

[helphelph]

Rating pjo ships because I've seen a good amount of people doing it lately and it seems fun. But there's a twist!! I used the wackiest rating system imaginable because I'm insane. Have fun.

Percabeth: a hundred hearts out of five blue cookies.

Their dynamic is not only incredibly fun but also they complement each other very well. Honestly, when I first read the books, I didn't really want them to get together because I didn't want another "main guy gets main girl" situation, but they're honestly made for each other.

Jiper: five daggers out of ten great canyons

They were incredibly forced, but honestly not that bad of a ship. They were really cute but I dont have much to say about it.

Valgrace: fifty festus heads out of ten college aus

One of my favorite Jason ships ever. I love me some tragic gays.

Pipabeth: Two goddesses out of fifteen owls

I will ALWAYS support a good wlw ship. And Piper defo had a microcrush on Annabeth while they were on the Argo II. Plus the fanart of them is SO good.

Jercy/Person: twelve riptides out of ten horses

I like reading about it and it's quite fun to think about. Nothing much to say honestly.

Perachel: Ten oracle's out of nine pancakes drowned in syrup

They could have been cute. I dont really ship them though.

Annrachel(is that the name?): three prophecies out of five spiders

Korrasami vibes lmao. I think they're better off as friends but I will read a fanfic if I find an interesting one.

Solangelo: twenty-six skulls out of ten doctors notes

They were written for each other. As in Rick made sure that they were written for each other. I havent read tsats yet and im still on the first toa book so I don't have much on their dynamic. Still I like them and they visually look good together.

Valdangelo: ninety-four automatons out of six pomegranate seeds

They would have been unstoppable I tell you! Unstoppable!! Or maybe I'm biased. Either way they would have been an amazing couple together but Rick was too much of a coward to let them be (boy)friends. (Can you tell I'm biased?)

Jeyna: One bad father out of two older sisters.

UPDATE!!1!1!1 It has come to my attention that Reyna is canonically aroace with no romantic or sexual interest whatsoever so this ship is out of the window.

Jasico: 3/10

Personally I've never seen the hype for them. I like their dynamic a lot but not really in a shipping way. Sorry pjotumblr😔

Pernico: One bathe in the river style out of thirteen hades figurines

The angst of Nico having a crush in Percy is a good concept to explore. Both in relationships with other characters and Nico's character development. But them being in a relationship together just irks me. It's not entirely problematic(at least i dont think it is), but still, the age gap makes me uncomfortable.

Ruegard: thirty-seven drakons out of one patrochilles parallel

Like I said, I love me some wlw ships. And while I've never really been a diehard fan of them, the fanart is amazing, so of course i ship them.

Frazel: 6/10

Rick try to make a girl and a boy stay friends challenge(impossible). But jokes aside, the 13-16 gap makes me annoyed. Three years isn't much but it matters in this situation. And it annoys me bacuse I want to like them. They have a cute dynamic but the maturity gap between them kinda gets in the way. That said, I would probably have liked them a lot better if they just stayed friends.

Valzhang: Nine eagles out of twenty hidden bunkers

Like I said before, I will consume almost every ship in a fandom. And if I find good fanfics of them, I will read it because I like exploring different characters' dynamics with each other. It's fun and I honestly think the pjo fandom should chill out a little. The amount of people who put others down for shipping something that isn't canon is way too much. Just let people enjoy their ships.

I think that's all? I didn't include Grover and Juniper because I honestly don't really have any opinions on them. They just exist and it's kinda like Rick just made them canon because he didn't want grover to feel left out. Let me know if there's other ships you'd want me to rate!

[itsjaywalkers]

for the drabbles me n you 71 (jokes....unless..)

but seriously rosekiller 60—i think it fits their vibe perfectly

i seriously considered writing a silly drabble for u and me.. greatest ship of our generation etc etc

but anyways !! here u have some rosekiller darling <3

60. "Before you decide to murder me, let me explain..."

If you asked Barty how he ended up pinned to the ground, right next to an open and half-dug grave, and with a scalpel to his neck, he wouldn't know what to tell you.

He knows it started with the disinheritance. Or maybe it was a bit later, when Regulus had told him he couldn't keep hiding in his dorm room, because his neighbour was starting to get suspicious, and he couldn't afford to be kicked out, now that he had also stopped being a trust fund baby. Not like he behaves any less spoiled.

Barty is convinced that it had nothing to do with the risk of getting discovered, and everything to do with that brainless rugby player who has started coming over. Regulus keeps insisting that it's just for uni, because they have a project together, or something, but Barty has caught that stupid jock ogling his best friend more times than he can count.

And there's also that one time he climbed Regulus' dorm window a bit earlier than he had said he would, and had seen the rugby dude lifting his shirt for some unknown reason and Regulus touch his abs with a ridiculous amount of awe. Like it was the first he was seeing a human body.

Barty still wishes he had recorded it. Regulus keeps trying to gaslight him about it but he knows what he saw. Unfortunately. He still has nightmares.

The point is that Regulus needed him out of there, and Barty also had jumped at the chance of getting away. It was fun, at first, interrupting their alone time and being the target of all those murderous glares Dave—or whatever his name is—kept sending his way. But it was beginning to grow old. The fear of Regulus poisoning his food or choking him in his sleep was getting a bit too real—he gets so cranky when he's horny but doesn't get any.

It's not like it's Barty's fault. He used to take care of that for Reg, because he's a great friend like that, but, well, after that one incident of Barty eating Regulus out and Regulus moaning that stupid jock's name, he refuses to lend him a hand anymore. Literally.

Not being able to rely on Regulus' dorm room, Barty needed money, and he needed it fast. So, technically, it had started with the disinheritance. Because like everything else in Barty's life that goes wrong, of course his father is somehow to blame.

Although, and watching the angel straddling his hips and who's about to slit his throat open, Barty isn't sure he'd say this is going exactly wrong.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, blondie," Barty starts, voice a little strained. "I think the scalpel and the whole threatening my life is a little unnecessary. We can have a conversation like grown ups—"

The angel presses the tool against Barty's skin a bit harder, abit deeper, and he has to bite his tongue to repress a groan when he feels the first drops of blood trickle down his neck.

Is this doing it for him? Really? It's not the weirdest thing that has managed to turn him on, but it's about to get very awkward if he pops a boner all of a sudden.

"Or not," Barty rushes to add, chuckling hoarsely. "We can totally talk like this. The dirt is actually pretty comfortable, and it's such a lovely night. I'd dare to say it's even kinda romantic."

The angel tilts his head to the side, brown emotionless eyes blinking down at him. "Are you flirting with me?"

Blondie's voice is empty, lacking any form of inflexion, but so smooth and so soft it's genuinely doing things to Barty.

"Depends. Is it working?"

He blinks at Barty again. Somehow, the gesture looks more condescending this time. The angel cuts him a bit more, and Barty hisses.

"What do you think?"

"I'm taking that as a maybe," Barty retorts, managing a little smirk.

Barty really has no survival instinct. He might actually die tonight, and yet his brain doesn't seem to be able to get with the program.

Not like Barty can blame it. If his killer looks this pretty, then he has no complaints. Or not as many as he should, at least.

"You were nosing around my grave," the angel states, squinting his eyes slightly. "Why."

"Your grave? I don't know if that's right, blondie, you look quite alive to me—"

The angel exhales loudly through his nose, and then moves the blade to the side of Barty's throat, as if getting ready to properly cut.

"Wait, wait," he exclaims, attempting to grab blondie's wrist and then remembering both of his hands are being crashed by his own back. "Before you murder me, let me explain..."

He pauses, leaves the sentence hanging and stares up at the angel with what he hopes are convincing puppy eyes. They've never worked on Regulus, but then again, he's a heartless man who only gets moved by his Prada slippers, so it doesn't really count.

Blondie doesn't say anything, just continues watching him with the most deadpan expression Barty has ever seen in his life. But his throat is only bleeding just a little, and he's still alive, so he'll take it as a win.

"I didn't know it was your grave, blondie," he assures him, and it feels a bit weird, not having to lie to defend himself. Most of the time, he's done whatever they're accusing him of and worse. "Really. Maybe you should put some sort of sign, something that actually stakes your claim, so people like me don't get confused—"

"You shouldn't be digging up graves anyway," the angel cuts him off with a pointed look.

Barty arches an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how I feel about a bloke who's literally threatening me with a scalpel judging what I decide to do with my free time."

"You said you were gonna explain and I'm not listening to any explanations." The angel rolls his eyes so hard Barty is momentarily concerned. "My hand is getting sore."

"You know how it'd feel less sore? If you dropped that cute little knife, or at least put it away from my face—"

"You have thirty seconds to talk before I cut your neck open."

"Okay, okay!" Barty sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. "It really was nothing personal, blondie. I just needed a body, a recent one, with all its organs intact, so I could sell them for an insane amount of money and pay for a room in the uni accommodation."

The angel finally looses the grip on the scalpel, the pressure becoming bearable. "You're digging up graves because you're broke?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Barty confirms with a shrug. "It's easy money. And I have experience digging up graves." He stops for a second and then he adds, "don't ask."

"I wasn't going to."

"So? Truce?"

Blondie gives another one of his slow blinks. "Not yet. How good are you with dismemberments?"

Barty doesn't miss a beat. "As in, having enough stomach to watch them or doing them myself?"

"Both."

"Quite good, I'd say. If I have the right tools, that is."

"I can provide them."

"Can you? Really?" Barty questions with a lazy smile. "Why would a cute, murderous thing like you need someone who knows how to dismember bodies for?"

"That's none of your business," the angel replies, raising his chin. "It's just for a little project I'm working on."

A project that includes referring to random graves as yours? That needs dead bodies' limbs?

Oh, this guy is absolutely batshit insane.

Barty wants him so ridiculously bad he's starting to get dizzy.

"You can have the organs," blondie adds, after Barty takes a little too long to answer. What can he say, he's a little busy fantasising about bending the angel in half and having his way with him. "They're of no use to me. I only need the limbs. And a head."

"Tempting," Barty admits, nodding. "But the question is, can you afford to hire my services?"

The angel finally puts the scalpel in his jacket's pocket, sitting up slightly and crossing his arms over his chest oncee the blade is away. "Afford? An amateur grave-digger's fee can't be that high, especially when you're this desperate. I'm sure I have enough money to—"

"Woah, woah, no one said anything about money, blondie. That's what selling organs illegally is for," Barty chuckles, squirming until he can free his hands from behind him. Still, he's gentle enough to not jostle the angel in his lap too much.

"Then?"

"A kiss?" Barty bats his lashes for good measure.

Blondie glares at him for a few long seconds, and when Barty is about to laugh it off, assure the other boy he was just joking and simply agree to his insane business proposal, the angel leans down.

Barty is sure that blondie only intended it for it to be a peck, but he's nothing if not an opportunist, and the moment the other boy's lips touch his, he rushes to deepen the kiss. Surprisingly, the angel allows it, opening up his mouth all sweetly when Barty licks at the seam teasingly, and tangling their tongues together.

He lets Barty explore a little, shuddering when he hums lowly into his eager mouth, but then he pulls away, the back of his hand coming up and rubbing furiously at his lips.

It's too dark to tell, but Barty could almost swear the angel is a bit flustered.

"Happy?" he grumbles, slightly muffled.

"Very much so," Barty says, not bothering to hide his shit-eating grin. "That's only the payment for a limb, though, blondie. So, if you need more..."

"It's Evan," the other boy correct him with a huff, finally putting his hand away from his lips. "And don't push it. I have to see how good you are first."

"Barty," he introduces himself in response, offering a handshake that Evan accepts, if a little begrudgingly. "I can assure you, I won't disappoint."