#I would’ve done something better but alas I am so fucking tired man

[jeskerthefool]

Happy birthday, citizen.

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [13]

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 13.5 OR Chapter 14

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warning: Implied smut

“You look so good tonight.”   “Yeah, right.” She scoffs, looking straight into his brown eyes and ignoring the way his hand fiddle with the cotton hem of her floral skirt. “Your little games won’t work on me, Chen.”   “And why not?”   “Because I know you.”   “Do you now?” He cocks a brow upwards, intrigued at her confidence.   “I know the minute you have your fun with me, you’d go onto your next target,” she whispers in a breath, sounding more sultry than angered or accusational. “And let me tell you something...I’m not that easy.”   “I think you’ve misunderstood,” he says and removes his hand back to his own lap. “I don’t care about my job. I don’t give a shit about any other girl. I just want you.”   It’s quiet for a moment as she rolls her eyes and looks out the window. But there’s nothing to see when the surroundings are blanketed in darkness. “You’re a good liar. I almost believed you for a second there.”   “That’s because I’m not lying.” He slides and leans closer to her, murmuring and letting his hot breath skim over the shell of his ear. His rough hand returns to her thigh, slowly moving upwards, skin brushing on skin. “There’s nothing I would rather do than to pin you to my bed and fuck you deep until you can’t walk straight.”   She swallows hard, rapid breaths leaving parted lips and the woman decides to dance with temptation. “...What else?”   “I’d bend you over my lap and spank you for all the times you misbehaved.” His lips nip at her jaw and down her neck, tongue peeking out to lap at her flesh and relishing in the way she visibly shivers and seems to melt in his touch and shivers. “I know you try to act like you’re bad. But you’re a good girl who would take my entire cock. You’d cream all over me and when I’m done, I’d push my cum right back inside of you. You would like that….wouldn’t you? For me to fuck my cum inside your tight, pink pussy?”   The female’s breathing becomes laboured and she locks her gaze with his. “What if I told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear…”   “Then I’d take you right here, right now.”   It’s instantaneous. The two of them tug each other until their lips are smacking. They pull one another close, moaning as their kiss deepens and a soft groan leaves his chest at her taste. His hand comes up to tease her upper thigh and she gasps when he nibbles on her bottom lip.   It’s hot and heavy, full of obscene sounds and gasps that echo in the small space.   When they part, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects their swollen lips. She’s hyperventilating, the strap of her dress falling off her shoulder. “Th-this…...this isn’t right. What about your fiancée?”   “It doesn’t matter.” He’s eager, taking off his seat belt and holding her again. “I want you. I only want you.”   They kiss each other again, more intense this time, and he’s ready to pull her to straddle his lap, over the bulge forming in his pants….but then there’s a noisy clearing of the throat.   It’s obnoxious, sounding like you’re coughing up a chicken bone lodged in your esophagus.   You’re tightly gripping the steering wheel, sweating from your hairline, and glancing into the rear-view mirror every other second. You really, really don’t appreciate how they act like you’re an inanimate object, like you’re not less than a meter away from them and you can hear everything. You can see everything. And at this rate, you’re about to go blind.   It’s a massive distraction. You can’t even imagine what would happen if your mom found out you died after crashing your cab because your passengers were having sex and you couldn’t keep your eyes on the road — you’re sure that’s a new level of patheticness.   “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you can’t do that here!”   He parts away from her in annoyance and shouts at you, “Just get us to the destination, lady!”   The man is adamant about continuing and you slam on the brakes, jolting the entire vehicle forward as the tires shriek against the asphalt, causing them both to scream, and you park at the curb.   The couple cuss up a storm, and you rip off your seat belt to turn around. “No.”   This is where you draw the line. You’ve put up with a lot before, but you can’t allow stains on your seats or the horrible smell that would linger once they’re long gone. “I am not going to let you have sex in the backseat of my taxi! I’m trying to drive! I’m sorry! But no!”   He’s frustrated, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. The guy is desperate for a good dicking, you understand that, but he needs to understand your situation too.   Before you can get another word in, he digs into his pants, pulling out a wallet in his pocket. The male throws a few crumpled bills at your face and they land in your palms that you brought out on pure reflex. It’s three hundred dollars in cash.   “There. Is that enough?”   They become impatient at your extended silence, but there’s an entire debate going inside your mind. Are you really going to throw your dignity away? The answer is — “Make it quick.”   Yes…   Yes, you are.   You end up outside at two in the morning in the freezing cold. Every time you exhale, you can see your breath, a cloud of condensation created and floating up to the real clouds. There’s a faint light from a lamppost a few meters away, but it’s effort of providing luminescence is weak. You’re left at the side of the empty road, surrounded in darkness.   You pull out your phone to play a game until your hands begin to crack and shake from the frigid temperature, and you’re forced to bury them in your pockets. Your lips splinter, chapped at the corners, cheeks made numb, nose dripping, and frost nips at your skin. If you had known you’d be standing outside, you would’ve brought a warmer coat. But alas, you accept your situation, kicking rocks underneath your foot, shivering and trying to think of other things aside from how dark and cold it is.   Behind you, the car begins to shake and rattle like there’s an earthquake happening inside. You can hear the throaty moans and groans, causing you to hum loudly to yourself to block it out. It lasts for thirty minutes since they take their good old time enjoying themselves. And by the time you’re able to enter again, you sneeze for the fifth time.

Jung Hoseok isn’t sure what’s wrong with him.   Every morning is a routine for him. The moment he wakes up, he finds himself walking into work a mere hour later. He’s always in a fresh, crisp suit, wearing dark loafers and carrying a briefcase. It’s the same day in and day out, the daily grind of working that brings purpose to his life. But for some godforsaken reason, today, there’s a bouquet of limp baby’s breath in his other hand.   They were on sale.   It was too good of a deal to let go. And sure, it looks like he grabbed a fistful of weeds from someone’s lawn, but they were pretty up close. Though he honestly doesn’t know what to do with them. He’s certain that he shouldn’t just waltz up into the office with a bouquet like this. Or maybe he can put it in his office, maybe he can give them to Lisa and tell her to find a vase or—   You.   You’re walking ahead of him, cutting through the lobby towards the elevators. If he calls out your name, you would stop to turn around. If he picked up his pace, he could make it on time….   Quickly, he turns to the nearest person beside him. “Here.”   Hoseok shoves the baby breaths to the lady security guard at the front door instead of trashing them. The older woman is taken off guard and she glances down, before staring at his face, and then she takes them. “T-Thank you?”   She’s in complete shock that the infamous Jung, known for being brutal and an asshole, has given her flowers. In the next seconds, the surprise morphs into awe and she’s touched, putting a hand over her chest, mouth still wide open. But Hoseok doesn’t pay any attention and only gives a firm nod, eyes diverted off to you. “Keep up the good work.”   When the compliment that acts as an explanation is said and done, he takes off, quick steps and wide strides until he’s practically running. Everyone turns around to gawk, moving out of the way and absolutely bewildered at how the usually composed lawyer is sprinting in the lobby. “Y/N! Y/N!”   You hear his voice, automatically pressing the button to keep the elevator doors open. Hoseok appears with a grin on his face and you stare at him, blinking once. “What’s wrong?”   “No, nothing.” He catches his breath, stepping into the elevator and watching as the door shuts. Hoseok steals a glance at you. “Good morning.”   “Morning.” You hold back a laugh, but it still bubbles out. “Why are you so energetic today?”   “What do you mean?”   Your finger lifts to point to his head. “You’re sweating.”   “No, I’m not.” The lawyer sulks and then tries to fix his hair that he feels is flopping onto his forehead. He tries to look into the polished silver of the metal walls, but the reflection is too blurred.   You sigh. “Here, let me.” And reaching up, you comb his bangs back into place. “There we go.”   The doors part when the elevator stops at the correct level and you walk out. Hoseok is left lingering in a delayed moment, caught off guard, and he scrambles out before the elevator can start moving again. “Your voice sounds kind of hoarse,” he comments.   “Really?” You forcibly clear your throat several times, ignoring how it aches. “Better?”   “A bit. Did you catch a cold?”   “I don’t know...” The pair of you slow down once you enter the office floor, making your way down the hallway towards your personal offices, past reception where Lisa and Dahyun are already answering calls.   “You should take medicine if you are,” he takes a peek at you and then looks away. “Wouldn’t want you to infect anyone else in the firm.”   “Don’t worry, you won’t catch whatever I have,” you tease, even when he mutters something along the lines of ‘that’s not what I mean’. For some reason, Hoseok seems tense and he stops right in front of your closet of an office like he’s dropping you off at your front door. There’s an awkward silence. “I’m going in now.” You turn your body slightly, hitching your thumb over your shoulder.   “Right,” he nods. “I’ll see you later then.”   Hoseok walks the way he came from, going straight into the office and shutting the door.   As a violent sneeze leaves you, making your head ache, you wonder if he’s really the sick one and not you.   //   The clock is slower than it should be. Perhaps it’s broken and he should call someone up to fix it again. But then it doesn’t explain why his computer and phone have the same exact time on it. Hoseok feels as if the seconds are being drawn out, five minutes turned into fifty, an hour is a whole day. The universe warps around him and it’s not because work is especially boring.   “I’m going downstairs.” Yoongi pokes his head through the door. “Want anything?”   “Why are you sucking up to me?” Hoseok flips the page, trying to get the documents in order for a court hearing tomorrow. “Are you trying to get that additional vacation day?”   The lawyer smirks. “Maybe.”   “I don’t need anything.” Suddenly, a thought crosses his mind and he pauses, movements stopping. Jung Hoseok lifts his head and stands up, chair pushed back haphazardly. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”   “Sounds good.”   They walk down the hallway together and Hoseok’s eyes stray off to the end. “What’s Y/N doing?”   “I don’t know.” Yoongi’s steps slow, still retaining his impassive expression despite being thrown the odd question. “Want me to go ask?”   “No, no, it’s fine.” They continue forward, entering the elevator as he buries his hands in his dress pants pockets. “She has a cold, that’s all.”   “If you cared about your employees spreading their colds, maybe you should be more lenient with those sick days,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth passive aggressively, making Hoseok smile while he watches the numbers of the elevator decrease.   “You’re not getting that extra vacation day, Yoongi. I’m not paying you to sleep at home.”   The corner coffee shop in the downstairs lobby isn’t too busy at this time of day, between the morning bustle and lunchtime. The two men join the line-up with Yoongi ahead, ordering a blueberry muffin with his drink and a strudel that Sunyi ordered. When it comes to Hoseok’s turn, he only takes a mere glance at the menu.   “I’ll take two regular coffees please.”   He taps his card on the machine, moving to the other counter to wait for his drinks. Yoongi’s chewing on his muffin, cheek puffed out, and brow lifted. “You’re drinking two?”   “Mhm…” He hums, not giving a direct answer.   Three minutes later and some small talk made, the hot drinks come out. Yoongi moves to the station to pour in his preferred creams and sugars while the other male is left staring motionlessly at the two cups in his hands. A worker stares at him, wondering if he’s a statue.   Hoseok stays completely still, staring, not blinking, like he’s transfixed or daydreaming about something else and no longer a part of reality.   His friend finally turns, confused at his bizarre behaviour. “Hoseok?”   “Why would she want coffee if she’s sick?” He mutters to himself and trashes the coffee in his left hand, letting it fall to the bottom of the garbage can.   “Hey.” Yoongi catches up with him as he walks off and whines, “That was perfectly good coffee. Why did you throw it? You could’ve given it to me.”   “No.”   “Are you okay?”   “I’m fine,” he brushes him off.   Except, he’s not. Jung Hoseok is going absolutely insane and at this rate, he might have to admit himself into the hospital to figure out what’s going on. He can’t concentrate on work at all. It’s like something is bothering him. He’s constantly looking up and out of his office like a hyperactive child or a criminal who’s fearful of the police. And it’s all because of you.   He stares every time you walk past his office towards the kitchen and it’s to the point where you have to ask if he’s okay, to which he tells you it’s nothing. A lot of people have been asking that lately — if he’s alright or not. Hoseok doesn’t know what the truthful answer is anymore.   Every little action you do, he has an overwhelming urge to watch. Every little word you say, he’s hanging onto every syllable. He frowns at how many times you sneeze, overhears you ask Inyoung where the tissue boxes are, and as your voice becomes more and more nasally as the day goes by, Hoseok gets driven more and more mad.   He feels like one massive creep. He feels absolutely pathetic. But he can’t stop and he’s going insane because of it. You’re like a fly circling around his head that he just can’t swat away or get rid of. The funny thing is….it’s not even you. It’s just thoughts of you.   “Hoseok!”   He jumps at the shout of his name, startled. His eyes stray off to the brunette man standing at his doorway with his arms crossed. “What? You scared me!”   “I called you five times. Are we going out to lunch or what?”   “Y-yeah...sorry.”   “Are you working on a difficult case?” Jimin tips his head to the side. “You seem so out of it.”   “I’m fine,” he repeats as if he’s trying to convince no one but himself.   The two men eat together in a quaint restaurant that serves lunch. Jimin insists that bonding time is necessary to maintain their relationship since they’re the foundation of the firm. Hoseok thinks that his partner is higher maintenance than an actual significant other.   Jimin orders his lunch and Hoseok makes his order as well, but before the waitress can skedaddle off to the kitchen, he stops her. “Could I actually get soup too? The chicken noodle. To go?”   “Certainly.”   “Soup?” Jimin asks him after she’s left and looks doubtful. “I thought you told me soup was watered down baby food.”   “It is,” the lawyer states confidently, masking his true intentions with an air of nonchalance.   Yet, Jimin is stubborn in nature and doesn’t give up so easily, especially when his curiosity is piqued. “Is it for you or someone else?”   “....None of your business.”   He’s amused at how childish his partner is being. The brunette lawyer threads his fingers together and props his hands under his chin, elbows to the table as he stares at the person across from him with mischief glimmering in his brown orbs. “Really? I think it is.”   “Me ordering soup is your business?”   “Your business is my business.” Jimin grins. “Since we run a business together.”   Hoseok sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Sometimes, I wonder why I chose you as my partner.”   “I chose you,” he reminds with a soft giggle. “And you love me.”   “Yeah, you’re right,” Hoseok admits with only a small ounce of sarcasm. “I love you and maybe we should just get married.”   “In your dreams.” His smile widens. “I’m expensive, you know. You won’t be able to keep up with me. My ass is out of your league.”   There’s bubbling laughter that leaves his chest. “You can’t say you’re expensive when you were part of a hugging club and wore a sign to hug random people on the street. I don’t even want to know what kind of diseases you contracted.”   He giggles too, eyes crinkling as he defends himself, “It’s not as bad as you. You used to kiss everyone!”   “On the top of their heads and on their foreheads.” Hoseok pouts, lips cutely downturning and jutting out. The two of them don’t care about the heads that turn to stare at them.   “Doesn’t make it any better!”   “Don’t you love my affection, Minnie? I love you, remember?”   “Please stop,” Jimin begs. The roles have completely reversed, tables have turned, and once more someone’s at Hoseok’s mercy. “Go back to being serious and weird, okay? Don’t act cute. It creeps me out.”   Hoseok quirks his head to the side and bats his lashes. “I thought you were the one who wanted to get married to me.”   “I never said that,” he points out. “No offence, but I can’t be with someone so nitpicky and naggy and overly organized.”   “So, you admit you live in a dump?”   “An expensive dump.”   They banter back and forth as usual until the food arrives. Halfway through the meal, the waitress comes back with his warm soup in a styrofoam container, plastic spoon and a napkin all prepared in the plastic bag. Jimin continues to talk about what’s been going on with his life, but Hoseok becomes distracted. He’s quiet, eyes staring at the object on the table beside him.   “No…” He shakes his head, muttering underneath his breath, barely being coherent. “No..it’s too weird.”   “What’s weird? Wait.” Jimin watches as his partner tears off the top of the container and begins chugging the soup. “You’re eating it? Right now?”   Hoseok doesn’t say a single thing, brooding to himself, ingesting it all while Park Jimin remains absolutely bewildered. When it’s empty, he wonders what the hell he just did. He’s an idiot. And now he’s too full to move.   12:46pm. Hoseok: Have you eaten yet?   12:46pm. Y/N: just finished 12:46pm. Y/N: why?   The lawyer lets out a sigh of relief, thankful that he didn’t end up giving it to you. It would’ve been unbearably awkward. He can imagine holding the bag out to you or leaving it on your desk, only for you to bring it back to him and tell him that you already had lunch.   12:47pm. Hoseok: nothing 12:48 pm. Hoseok: are you feeling better?   12:48pm. Y/N: im ok   12:48 pm. Hoseok: you can go home early 12:49 pm. Hoseok: if you need to   He sits on the edge of his seat, resisting the urge to nibble on his fingernails. He waits for a response and waits and waits. Hoseok can see the dots appearing on his screen signaling that you’re texting him back, but he wonders why it’s taking so long, and the anticipation grows and grows.   12:52 pm. Y/N: you’re not getting rid of me so easily   “Why are you smiling to yourself?” Jimin asks before sipping on his water and letting his narrow eyes pin onto the man past the rim of the glass. “And who are you texting?”   “No one.” Hoseok clears his throat, setting his phone down. He makes eye contact with the waitress who is preparing the bill.   “Uh-huh. Doesn’t seem like no one.”   “You’re acting like we’re really married.”   “If we are, I want a divorce.” They laugh, both divorce lawyers pretending to argue about the settlement and how to divide their assets while the waitress can’t conceal her mortified expression, believing that it’s legitimate.   Back at the firm, Hoseok beelines straight into his office when Lisa informs him there’s a client on the line. But Jimin hangs back and his eyes meet Yoongi’s who’s happens to be strolling around.   “Don’t you think he’s acting weird these days?”   “He’s always been weird.” Yoongi is at the copier, deciding to give Seulgi a break from having to make copies from him every five minutes. He fiddles with the buttons until the machine is whirring to life and spitting out the correct pages.   “But like...especially.”   “You don’t seem that concerned.”   And he isn’t. Jimin’s entertained. “No, I’m not.”   “He seems more panicked and anxious these days,” Yoongi insightful comments. “But happier.”   “I agree.” The lawyer nods and pats his employee on the back before leaving, eyeing your office as he makes his way to his own.   You and Jimin share a lot in common, but one of those things are that you two are the few that remember Hoseok as being very hyper and outgoing. It’s only work that turns his bright nature ten notches down and makes him serious. Jimin muses that his partner has been quite calm these past few years, but it seems like only you can get under his skin.   //   “Y/N? I..uh..stopped by—”   There’s no one in your office.   Hoseok waits in the small room for a second as an exhausted exhale leaves the seams of his lips. The work day is over. It’s five o’clock. But your belongings are still here, so you haven’t left yet. You’re not gone, but his timing wasn’t right — his timing is never right.   Reluctantly, he places the new tissue box that he bought on your desk, right in front of the keyboard. And the man lingers a few moments before walking out. A part of him feels uncomfortable. Hoseok wished he could’ve seen you one last time before leaving for the day.

[def-initely-soul]

I write my first drafts on paper too! haha anyway, could you talk a little about bffs yoongi au? ✨💓

OMG YES I’M NOT ALONE!  💓

yoongi bffs au you say? xD Well, it’s being a while since I posted a little snippet on my blog (this was back in summer) but I wanna get back on this story so here’s another snippet of it xD

.

.

“What now?”.

Your eyes widen in comedic surprise and Yoongi resists the urge to scoff.

“What do you mean?” is your almost-believable-innocent question as you bat your eyelashes at him.

The look Yoongi casts you is far from amused.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N. What’s going on?” he says tiredly, rubbing his temples for whatever it is that he has to hear. It sure won’t be something good, otherwise, you would’ve told him already.

Your eyes flicker with realization before something else overtakes them, something Yoongi can’t quite name and then you bite your lip as if you’ve done something you shouldn’t.

“Well, I… I’ve been thinking…” you start, your hands fidgeting in almost a schoolgirl manner as you shyly look at your lap. Yoongi’s eyes soften before he remembers what a little minx you are, almost always making him do things for you with just that look from your eyes.

“About?” he questions sharply and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“... About… how you were whining the other day…” your words are insinuating and Yoongi can’t help but groan in embarrassment at the memory that creeps in his mind.

The other day you had gone out for a couple of drinks that turned into more until Yoongi wasn’t sober enough to tell the difference between a toilet and a flowerpot. He’s pretty sure he’s not allowed anywhere near that pub anymore, let alone its garden.

At that night as you carried his drunk ass home he had been quite loud about his need to get laid and how almost every girl he met wasn’t making it for him.

He hoped you would have forgotten about that but alas you didn’t.

I mean there are worse things than your crush hearing about your nonexistent love life, right?

“Can I just put myself on fire for a second? I just want to check something…” Yoongi begins, raising up from his couch to go hide in the bathroom and wallow in self-pity until you grow tired and leave, but you grab him by the arm with a laugh as you force him to sit back down next to you.

“Sit down you dumbass…” you say through your giggles, which make his heart beat faster.

Damn you and your adorable laugh that makes him wanna kiss you.

But instead of doing that, Yoongi pouts almost instinctively, crossing his hands on his chest before sinking into the couch. As if this will make him disappear and save himself from what is to come.

“Why were you thinking about that?” he asks, lips still protruding in a pout and you bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“Becaaaause….” you drag the word on as your face gets closer to his with a childlike innocence. Yoongi ignores the way his heart skips a beat and instead focuses on looking pissed. Which clearly isn’t working on you at all.

“... I had an idea,” you conclude with a spark in your eyes. One that has Yoongi looking suspiciously at you through narrowed eyes, because honestly your ideas always end up in disaster.

“No.”

You gasp as if offended. “You haven’t even listened to it yet!”

Yoongi directs his eyes elsewhere to stop himself from giving into your antics. “I don’t need to, your ideas have been shit since forever.”

It’s your turn to pout as you shove him with your foot and he grumbles in protest.

“You deserved it, you jerk…” you mumble, directing your gaze to the TV, crossing your arms in the way of an adorable five-year-old.

Yoongi fights off a smile.

“Well, I could only guess you were gonna try and set me up with one of your friends and I have to say no thank you,” he continues with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Actually that’s not what I meant- wait what’s wrong with my friends?!” you ask incredulously, sitting up on the couch, your eyes burning at him and Yoongi presses his lips together in an attempt to stop himself from laughing.

They’re not you, he wants to say.

“Nothing, nothing…” he rushes to calm you down instead, “I just know they wouldn’t appreciate it if I didn’t call again, would they?” he explains with a raise of his brow.

This manages to calm you down enough because mainly he’s right. Your friends are more of the relationship type, not looking for something casual and as Yoongi puts it… it wouldn’t be wise to set him up with one of them.

Your anger seems to have deflown but then you shake your head. “Anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to say…” you mutter, looking at him through your eyelashes.

Yoongi swallows nervously before answering. “Then what was it?”

There is only the slightest chance he won’t go into a cardiac arrest when you slide closer to him on the couch to rest your hand on top of his knee. Something you’ve done quite a few times in the past as the purest of motions, only this time it doesn’t feel at all innocent.

He holds his breath for your answer.

“Well… I couldn’t help but realize how our problems may have one common solution…”

Yoongi’s mind goes into overdrive at your words. By “your problem” you mean your inexperience with men and during a conversation on the subject you revealed you were mostly worried about not knowing how to please a man than being ashamed of not having any experience.

Yoongi’s only answer to being proposed with the opportunity to have his dreams come true is this:

“No.”

Your eyes widen. “Why not?” you demand loudly, sultry demeanor disappearing and being replaced by disappointment, making it harder and harder for him to stay focused on his decision.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking Y/N!” he says just as loud, trying to keep himself from going mad, as he raises from the couch to pace anxiously around the living room.

That’s one more thing to add on the list of ways you’re driving him crazy.

“Come on, Yoongs! It’s not like I’m asking you to have sex with me!”

That stops him dead in his tracks to look at you with wide, confused eyes. “You’re not?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “No, I just want you to teach me how to give a blowjob,” you say calmly as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

Yoongi blinks at you, unsure of how to respond, his mind giving up the moment he hears you saying the word “blowjob”.

“That’s worse!”

You flinch at the volume of his words when he looks at you with his famous “you’re crazy” look. One he uses mostly on you and your other stupid ideas, but never in this intensity.

You groan as you stand up in front of him to look him straight in the eyes. “Why are you so against this?”

“Because it will be weird! You’re my best friend, Y/N, not a girl I met at the pub that I plan to not see again!” he protests frantically, wanting nothing more than to just give in and do as you please. But a small voice in his head prevents him from doing so. It’s the more reasonable one that says he will be gone for if he lets this happen.

“But that’s why I want you to do it! I want someone with who I feel safe around, someone I know I will be comfortable with and what better choice do I have from you?” you ask seriously, eyes intense on his and he swears he can’t take any more of this.

“But what if it turns out weird and awkward afterward? How am I gonna be able to look you in the eye if you-” he begins protesting when you finally have enough.

“For goodness’s sake, just shut up and let me suck your dick!”

The waterfall of words that threatened to spill from his lips suddenly vanish, leaving behind only bewilderment and betrayal at how his pants suddenly feel tighter at your words. For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with him?!

But when his blown-out eyes meet yours, your expression turns timid as you quickly avoid his gaze. “Sorry that was too straightforward, wasn’t it?” you say.

Yoongi’s breath hitches. How is he supposed to answer to that?! Because right now it seems his brain has gone into a state of paralysis, any rational thought being replaced by him thinking with his heart and dick. The small voice grows even quieter, turning into a hushed whisper, one Yoongi can’t exactly make out the words it’s saying. Instead, his mind is flooding with pictures of you staring at him with those wide, innocent eyes from between his legs, eager to please him and he swears he’s gonna fucking lose his mind if he doesn’t do something about it.

His chest deflates as he casts his eyes on the ground, trying one last time to find any sliver of resistance within him. But there is none.

“God, you’re gonna drive me mad…” he whispers almost to himself as he closes his eyes and raises his face to the ceiling. You’re definitely going to be the death of him.

He can almost hear the smile in your voice when you ask: “Is that a yes?”

Yoongi can already feel he’s gonna regret it when he replies “...Sure, the hell with it.”

WIP Tag Game

[tumultuoustuna]

Hey hi! :) For the writing prompt maybe Shidge 16? .- @quinzak

16: Things you said with no space between us

Shout out to @orcaspanielmermaids for helping me edit this tiny monster; I love you bro!

Also, warning, it’s v long. the keep reading is there so I spare others from having to scroll for so long, I swear 

Training is always close quarters, whether it be slashing and dashing away from the training sentinels or taking on a fellow Paladin. Today it was the latter for Pidge.

Shiro was a brutal opponent. Yes, she had defeated him before, but that was when he was under the influence of mind-controlling mushrooms. Now with Shiro as a true opponent, Pidge could only repeat one thing to herself as they brawled.

“Shit.”

The Black Paladin launched forward again, speed unparalleled to any of the other Paladins. Pidge took advantage of her jetpack yet again. Shiro hadn’t managed to catch her yet, but Pidge was counting. She just knew sooner or later he’d grab her.

She aimed her Bayard at the ceiling and pulled herself up. She planted her feet on it and looked down (well up from where she stood). 

Waiting her turn to spar Allura was off to the side. She snorted, amused at Shiro’s frustration.

“Training usually consists of actual fighting last time I checked Pidge. You know, actual fighting?” Shiro called. Pidge smirked in return, putting all of her strength into keeping herself from falling.

“Pidge, come on,” he yelled. Pidge shrugged.

“Pidge!” 

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “Game point.”

To say the least, it surprised Shiro when a ninety-five-pound, green torpedo dropped on top of him, crushing him flat.

“I win,” grinned the torpedo.

Allura introduced the Paladins to the very, very overdramatic Altean soap operas one night after Coran had gone off with Slav and Matt to a planetside bazaar.

According to Slav, the planet was too liable to the shenanigans of the Paladins (”In 57% of most realities The Blue and Red ones get into a massive fight that ends with fire and the Castle crashing onto the planet.”). With that information and with it being a fact that Lance and Pidge found ways to be gremlins in short amounts of time, Allura agreed it was a good idea to stay on the ship and land it.

As they watched, Keith was overly confused, Hunk tried making hands-or-tails of the dialogue, Allura sighed dramatically at the idiot characters, and Lance was laughing at the jokes that broke through the language barrier and matched his style of humor to begin with.

With that said, Altean humor is actually just a bunch of memes and k-drama tropes.

It amused Pidge.

A lot.

Shiro too.

And while Matt would’ve been amused as well, he also would have tried to worm out Shiro’s secret meme humor, more to humiliate him then to laugh along with his friend. As it was though, Shiro was holding back making any remarks.

But alas Pidge knew better.

Coran, Slav, and Matt return shortly, gaining Lance’s and Hunk’s attention. Seeing the items they had procured were food based, said Paladins got to cooking. Matt, in favor of cooking, took Hunk’s place on the couch next to Keith.

When the credits started to scroll, Allura tossed a slim remote to Shiro so he could scroll through the channels on the holovision (Pidge’s genus name for the holographic tv) and find something to watch. “You need this,” she had smiled, leaving the room to watch Hunk work.

Shiro’s choice was a technicolor kid show. It starred aliens as the leads, who resembled cows. They were reciting what Pidge could only guess to be some sort of alphabet.

“What the fresh fuck, man?” Keith whispered slowly to Shiro, sounding genuinely concerned for his mental health. 

Matt doubled over in fits of laughter. “Yeah! S-Shiro, buddy, what the heck?”

“What? Can a grown man not enjoy a colorful kids’ show with deer as its main characters?”

“Those are cows,” Pidge chimed in. “And you’re only two years older than me buddy, I assure you there’s nothing grown about you maturity-wise.”

“Guilty.”

Pidge made a grab for the remote.

“Pidge no. Let me have this,” Shiro pouted, shoving the shorter Paladin away by the shoulder.

“No, this is for your own good,” Pidge insisted, ducking under his arm and crawling over to snatch the remote.

“Get ‘im!” Matt encouraged.

Pidge squinted ever so slightly and pursed her lips. “Game point,” she muttered before making one last sitch effort to free the remote from Shiro’s grasp.

It all ended with Shiro more or less sitting on Pidge. And as massive as a fail it was, Matt sure got a kick out of it.

“I win,” Shiro smirked.

Pidge, with her head in the cushion, flipped him off

Matt was wheezing on the floor.

“I’m done with all of you,” Keith sighs, and leaves the lounge in favor of starting a food fight with Lance helping cook.

Shiro had issues sleeping some nights. It led to him wandering everywhere, even in the other Lions’ chambers. This led him to also find out what his fellow crew members did if sleep didn’t come.

Coran occasionally stayed up to see Allura to her room and that Allura often cried, away from eyes other then Coran. 

Keith, even though he was a sucker for sleep, would be found in the kitchen. He stared wide-eyed at food rotating in the machine equivalent to a microwave when he had something on his mind, weighing him down. 

Often he’d find Lance staring at maps on the bridge, looking at Earth. Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. Shiro often wanted to reach out and comfort him. Most of the time he had no idea how.

Hunk fiddled with random pieces of metal, crafting and welding together beautiful sculptures; he said it was because he loved the Balmera’s crystals, wanting to replicate them artistically.

Matt, upon coming back and plagued with nightmares, sought out Shiro some nights to talk. 

Slav never slept, Shiro was certain.

The Blade members… He wasn’t sure what they exactly did. Played card games? Strategised? 

Pidge was one he often didn’t see around the Castle. He had, more or less, seen everyone at one point doing their own thing at night, but Pidge was the odd one out in this format.

So seeing her in Green’s hanger actually took him by surprise. He blinked, shook his head, did a double take. Yep, it was Pidge.

“So uh, what brings you here? Come here often?” Shiro asked. It sounded too loud.

“I would hope so,” Pidge remarked.

“Uh, yeah.” Shiro scratched the back of his neck. “A better question I guess I should ask is why you’re here now?”

“Green’s cloaking device. It uh, broke.”

“How?”

“Might I remind you of Lotor’s last attack?”

“Oh, right.”

“It’s okay. We were all very… stressed. I don’t expect anybody to remember anything, let alone Green getting hit so precisely her cloaking device was damaged.”

Shiro’s brow raised. “This much apathetic salt leads me to believe you need some sleep, Katie.”

“Probably, Takashi.” Pidge yawned.

Pidge didn’t protest when Shiro scooped her up into his arms and started towards her room. She snuggled into his solid chest, glasses off and in her hands.

“I really wish Zarkon could be changed by just the power of friendship. It would make things so much easier,” Pidge muttered about halfway through the trip.

Shiro laughed softly. “Right? Lotor at least.”

“I mean, he has a bunch of generals. I’d would assume they’re friends.”

“The one named Ezor seems like she is.”

Pidge smiled sleepily. She had fought Ezor once, and she couldn’t stop talking to her the entire time. Sure, it was a serious fight, but what was a better catharsis to war than casual banter with the enemy? Ezor was actually quite fascinating and Pidge hoped they would meet one day on better terms, like the mall, and be able to talk even more casually.

“Yeah, she seems to be.”

Shiro opened the door to her room and set the small Paladin down as gently as he possibly could. He tucked her in, earning a look.

“I’m not five, Shiro.”

“I know, but I’d think anybody likes feeling like a kid again. That and I feel like you’d fall asleep without actually having blankets on yourself and freeze yourself.”

Pidge snorted. “Dude, how tired are you?”

“Very, if I’m gonna be honest.”

This gave the small girl an idea. “Why not stay here tonight?”

“What?”

“You kinda wander aimlessly in the halls and I worry sometimes. Maybe instead of being alone, you could stay here tonight,” Pidge nonchalantly laid out. 

The Black Paladin looked over at the door for a moment. What would the others think?

“If you’re thinking what Matt would think, I can assure you he wouldn’t ask. Come on, give yourself more credit. You aren’t a sleazy guy.”

“It’s… okay.”

Shiro discarded his shoes and carefully removed his arm, putting them off to the side.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you without that honestly,” Pidge said in almost awe, staring at the now still appendage.

Shiro blushed. “Well, after I figured out how to turn off a lot of the nerves I took advantage of it. It was really painful to take it off at first. Enough so that I’d just scream.” He paused and sighed. “Your research helped a lot with that.”

“Well I mean, I’m glad I could help.”

“Me too. We’d be screwed without you.”

“Meh, your leadership holds us all together, not my skills.”

“Pidge, you’re the only way we have access to the ships’ computer systems and survive.” Shiro put his hand on her shoulder. “You are the reason anything gets done, ‘nough said.”

It was Pidge’s turn to blush. “I mean, yeah, but what I mean is that I’m not… Eh, how do I put this? Not the most approachable person? I mean, compared to Keith I’m a stellar example of extraversion. But I’m not the ‘team glue’ if you will. That goes to Lance.”

“Yes, but that’s not my point. Pidge, can you not just accept my compliment?”

“No. I must push away all forms of kindness and connection if I want to reach extreme levels of edgy-ness.”

“I am more than positive you got that from Keith.”

“He said it to Lance once; it was quite clever.”

Shiro grunted a ‘yes’ and fell silent. Others might have found it awkward, but the two Paladins stared into each other’s eyes for quite some time before Pidge smirked and said, “So are we going to sleep now?”

Shiro smiled, eyes drooping. “Uh huh,” he replied, mouth closed.

As Shiro drifted off, probably for the first time in a few days, Pidge grinned and wrapped her short arms around him as much as she could. Game point, she thought. As he snuggled closer, Pidge smile turned fonder as she said, “I win.”

“So did I,” muttered a half-conscious Shiro. 

Hope you enjoyed!

[realfinemood]

I know people are on their like second or third playthroughs already but whatever I am apparently very slow okay. 

All of Kadara, Vetra’s loyalty mission, and a couple sidequests below:

Kadara

Kadara is the first planet I’ve gotten 100% on. Mostly because I tried as hard as I could to get everything done in one go because a) it seems to take so much longer to get anywhere on Kadara (seriously why is there no option to just go straight to the badlands??) and b) Gwendolyn Ryder hates this planet so freaking much. She’s so tired of being told “you weren’t there” because she cannot imagine how terrible the Nexus could’ve possibly have been that this hellhole of a planet seems like a better option. Everyone is terrible. Oh that guy that seems like a decent fellow just trying to help people, also he created the drug that everyone’s getting stoned on. Oh that guy who seems to be doing a decent job of giving people shelter, actually he murdered a bunch of Angarans over water filters, plus they were assholes price gauging starving people anyways. There’s people mind-controlling people. There’s people eating people. The freaking water kills you. She just wants off this damn planet as soon as humanly possible.

Reyes, I am so sorry. You seem like a like a lovely yet shady as fuck dude, and I promise (hopefully after they “adjust” m/m romances) that there is a guyRyder romance in your future, but Gwendolyn just has zero fucks to give him. Maybe if it had been on any other planet it would’ve been different. The charm just did not work on her and quite honestly IDK why he even bothered with it after a point cause she quite blatantly didn’t care (I may have punched him as a distraction whoops). Sharing a drink was nice though, and she was pretty surprised by the honesty there.

Which is why she was seriously pissed off by the Charlatan reveal. (I assumed from the get-go but Ryder was honestly surprised by the whole thing, she never expected to ever even find out who it was.) There was no love lost between her and Sloane, and she would’ve been fine if the duel had ended with Reyes’ winning. But since some people have no sense of fucking honor, she not only saved Sloane, but attempted to shoot Reyes as he ran away. 

That certainly will not come back to bite her in the ass, nope. (Due to misunderstanding on where the mission took place, I ended up finding the collective base after the fact. Which made her even more okay with her decision - even if the outcasts are terrible it’s not like the collective weren’t terrible either. Will have to find that beforehand next go around. Maybe people will actually be alive then…)

But anyways, her mutual hate-on with Sloane turned into a mutual dislike but grudging respect, ala Aria, so there’s that. I shot down Sloane’s deal in the first convo so I feel like I didn’t see very much of her this playthrough? I’m definitely reading Nexus Uprising beforehand, so who knows, maybe I’ll be 100% on her side next time. (I do expect to see all of the dark!Shakarian AU based on her and Kaetus though because seriously.)

Also, an actual thing that happened when I realized I’d gotten 100%:

Me: Gee, it’s weird that I’m at 100% and there’s been no surprise Architect. Guess they just don’t have one on this planet.

Game: Hey one last thing, can you go find out what happened to this random dude who supposedly went after some giant beast?

Me: Sure I guess, sounds easy.

Game:

Me: I don’t know what I expected.

Vetra’s loyalty mission

First to get it out of the way - considering I’m still on like part 17b of Drack/Cora/Peebee’s loyalty missions, the fact that Vetra’s is “here you go, this is the mission!” was a little disappointing. But then again it works with the fact that Vetra would have no idea what was going on anyways.

Ryder thinks Vetra is amazing, so of course she believed she was just being modest about the whole thing, right up until “Vetra” started talking. It seemed obvious at that point that it was Sid, so I’m glad they had Vetra catch on pretty quick about it. I liked the not-really-stealthy stealth prison break and Sid’s realization that “wow actually your job kinda sucks”. Ryder supported Vetra’s judgement for most of the run, though she did fall back on “she’s your sister” when asked if Sid should help - that ain’t Ryder’s call to make. Sid didn’t leave the mission particularly thrilled, but Ryder probably would’ve said the same things had it been Scott. Back on the ship she did point out that not telling Sid about everything probably doesn’t help. And flirted with her some more because goddamnit I will get this romance to start if it’s the last thing I do, which it certainly seems to be likely at this point.

I do wonder why Sid and Vetra have different markings though. I know family markings aren’t canon and are a fanon thing, but surely they’d have the same colony ones? Then again there’s a ton of barefaced Turians which is weird too.

Life on the Frontier / Little Things That Matter missions

After that it was some sidemissions, which turned into Addison’s Shitty Decisions hour. I did Sid’s Life on the Frontier mission, because she at least went about it properly this time. After some searching around it turns out, surprise, Addison massively fucked up, armed people that hate the Nexus, and caused Initiative ships to be attacked. I sided with Sid because what the fuck Addison, you did this because you didn’t think Ryder could do her job, what about our relationship suggests that she’s going to hide your fuck ups?

And while I was doing that mission, I found something pinging me and then found a satellite that exploded in my face. Turns out, Addison went behind Tann’s back which resulted in a massive security issue because of course it did. And more people that were in charge of the Nexus hightailed it out! What the hell man. Searching some more and hey, it’s all because the doctor super wanted a baby. And that apparently changes everything because… ???

What the actual fuck is with this game and babies? Gil’s “friend” Jill is bad enough, but who sees the Nexus struggling to survive and decides, “yes, this is totally the time to add more mouths to feed”?? Of course they didn’t have a plan for when they were going to take everyone off contraception, they didn’t have a plan for how to keep people from starving! I do not give a shit that she’s the first pregnant human in Andromeda, she’s stealing vital supplies all because she couldn’t handle waiting to have a baby?? What the actual fuck.

Ryder Family Secrets

That one’s on hold until I get the last outpost up, so I went and checked some more memories with SAM. Hi mom! Hi bro! Nice to see you out of a coma for a change!

So the mysterious benefactor is TIM, right?? Who else a) knew and believed the Reapers were coming, b) had enough money to throw away on the project, and c) would be fine completely ignoring the Milky Way’s history of AIs to finance a more invasive one. It would also explain the clearly shitty vetting job the Initiative did on its people (as well as why exactly they have the top secret Normandy plans). Still holding out hope that Cora’s last name isn’t a red herring as well.

Other random things

Peebee and Ryder still aren’t the best of friends, but her shiny drone present has gone a long way in getting them there. Her name is Viv the VI and she’s adorable. She replaced Spot, Ryder’s assault turret, and joins Droney the combat drone in her robot army. 

I have decided I am terrible at crafting. I have tried multiple times to craft a weapon, and each time it seems way less powerful than a premade one at a lesser level. So I bought a damn Black Widow VI and am sticking with it. (Seriously, 90% of the time I forget the fact that I also have a pistol equipped, even if it means abusing the sniper rifle by using it as a shotgun.)

Also can I just say, this story from Jaal might be my favorite email so far:

[pinegreenram]

Something was in today, but only two people could feel that.

It was yesterday. A few hours ago, Ram was in the living room, sitting on the couch.

Yeah. Just sitting there. He sat on the couch's cusions motionlessly as he blankly stared out at the living room window. The Three Idiots In The Background were actually indoors, doing some fun activity that he couldn't care about.

It was all fun and stuff until it came to him. It was... not really a thought? It felt more like an emotion to him. A sensation, if you would prefer.

And this emotion made him stop. Something about the way the emotion was built made him feel. Felt... bad. Scared. Angry. Remorse.

A lot to take in for such an emotion. He couldn't just sit there and process it like that. Not in front of these people. Somewhere private.

Ram turned his head toward the crew in an awkward position. Stuart, Cynthia, Welly were in the kitchen. The air smelled like fluffly marshmallows as Welly giggled vibratnly to herself.

It was a struggle, but he got up without causing quite as much of a commotion. As he limped past the kitchen room, Stuart turned to look, and gave him a questioning glance before going back. It's not that bad, right? Mustn't be.

=

In the bathroom, there is only silence. No crickets. No clocks. No anything else. Just the silent creaks of rotten men.

The room was an isolation chamber for him. A personal headquarter. Just for him and him only.

And here he sat. Where the toilet seat stood was what he used as his chair. It wasn't a comfortable seat, because it didn't have any cushion. But, it worked anyway.

Just sitting there. Thinking to himself. He was in a very deep thought train. It was so deep that he refused to move. He didn't even fidget. It was quite peculiar. But, he still thought.

With hands rested on his lap, he clenched them tightly. These thoughts were disturbing rnough to do that. His face showed contempt, even if he wasn't supposed to feel this way.

He finally closed his eyes shut. He couldn't look at anything if he wanted to think deeper.

=

It was March. March of something. Something was happening today. There was always something happening today.

Ram was here. He sat on the floor. Beaten up, mutilated horribly, and bleeding a bit. Somehow, she had managed to hurt his leg enough to render it useless. That was going to take about 4 hours to fix, at most. Alas, he still held on. Kept a smile with it as a form of mockery.

Cynthia was also here. She held a spiked bat that was caked in oozing old meat. Clasping the club tighter, she brought back the bat and slammed it down onto him, making sure that the rusted nails would enter deep into his eye holes. Let the iron sprinkle in like adding salt.

A straight blow.

He groaned out in pain, wheezed slightly, and then chuckled. The little girl was so tired of this. She heaved and breathed hard. She was out of stamina. Out of her will to live. Just staring at him like this made her feel angry about her fatigue.

"Are... are you..." Ram took this sentence to sharly inhale. He shifted into an uncomfortable position as he awaited for a good response from her. "...done? Doing whatever that... is?"

He tried to be funny, but it only ended in hissing. He was in pain, and it hurt so much. Taking many repeated bats to the face isn't a pleasant feeling.

"If it'll make you stop saying your stupid jokes, then yes." Cynthia retorted as she threw the bat away. It almost struck his leg. "I'm done, I guess."

"You know... Nothing is gonna stop... me from making jokes about you, little... little girl! You make it easy to. For me."

She looked at him funny, because she understood what he meant. In a sense, I guess she was a little predictable in some ways. However, she wasn't going to let this insult affect her. Not like that.

"Alright. I guess nothing is going to stop you from doing that. But, I can-"

Cynthia suddenly stopped. It's like as if she was suddenly caught into a deep assessment of some kind. Someone shut her action down.

Ram shakily reached his bloody claw put at her. He was trying to hold her hand. Closer and closer it went. He only managed to brush her forearm lightly before she snapped into her reality. Cynthia pulled her hand away and dug it behind her pocket. She almost seemed surprised, but she was not. Her tiny little hands hesitated behind something as she spoke with a wavering voice, “He- Stuart told me some things when he died, and I wanted to confirm if it was true. Will you let me.”

Ram scoffed. And then he coughed some meat up, but he still tried to laugh. “Really? Really now?” He wheezed out like an accordion. “He’s... a lying little... bugger... and you shouldn’t have... trusted him, but I’ll let you do something right. Just this once, darling.” Ram managed to give a snooty little smile, before sputtering into a brief coughing fit.

“Well, first of all, he said that you had him longer than me. Do you know what this means?”

Ah. Easy question. Ram is a little excited to answer that. Sick fuck.

“3 years... 3 years... of me. He was a riot to handle.”

Cynthia looked absolutely shocked. When he was alive, he had only hinted a little bit toward the amount, which only made her curious. She saw a lot of scars over his body one time, and she couldn’t hold her urge to ask. However, questions she asked were only answered with an uneasy silence. Terrifying thought to think. She wouldn’t stand that long.

Ram knew that question made her feel bad, so he laughed again. This one was actually succssful, though it wasn’t loud. Cynthia tried to maintain composure by asking again.

“S-second, he said that you hurt pride. Making people feel like utter shit was something that you enjoyed. But, I don’t want to ask for confirmation. I just wanna know why.”

Ooh, another good question. Intensity flared up.

“Why not? Am I not allowed to... feel great about myself. You.... weak little humans are always so... happy with eachother that you don’t... You don’t talk about the suffering kids who die everyday...” Ram paused. Thinking. “When I first saw you... I thought you were amazingly... cute...? You had that air of innocence that I... wanted to destroy. It annoyed me.”

He crawled up toward her like a zombie. He didn’t get far, but he still got a reaction from her.

“Did I do my job well? I mean... oh, goodness... look at you. You’re so... unhappy and it’s humorous... You have no one, and you never will. I took everything... Everything... just so that it would happen. A little pest like you didn’t need happiness, like him.” He ended his talk with a laugh much louder than before.

Fucking. God.

This made her so angry. So infuriating. She grated her teeth so hard that it would soon start hurting. Her fingers that she wrapped around her tools were gripped, and it was apparent with her white knuckles. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stand this any longer.

Her voice spoke out, though it was more of a yell. She may as well be yelling, because her voice was loud and strong. She’s determined.

“I have one last thing to say to you.”

Cynthia finally whipped out the items from her pocket. A full lighter with hair spray.

“I won.”

Click. She had spun the flint wheel. Fate landed in her hands.

=

The ray of heat burst out and landed on his arm. At first, there wasn’t any pain to experience. This wasn’t a joke, was it? No, he just-

It was now hurting. Hot-white flames tickled the deathly flesh of his body, and it began. Ram soundlessly started to freak out, but it was only going to get better. He frantically used his other hand to try and put the fire out, but it only caught on. Both hands were now burning up. It was going to spread, but he didn’t realize that.

He looked at Cynthia, who was cold, and stagnant. In his best efforts, he lunged at her, to try and get her caught too, but she backed away before he felt the floor. She knew this was an attack, and she lit the lighter again.

Her aim was steady and slow. Roasted him straight on the back.

So now his entire upper half was on fire. It quickly got to his legs.

Ram screamed out, and it sounded like Satan had come onto the doorstep to have a chat. Trust me on this, it was terrible. A mix of cruel animal whimpers followed an ear-piercing cacophony of his earlier victims. Some were slow, and some were fast. But, it all sounded to painful.

“...YOU. YOU FUCKING... I-“ Was all he could say, as the flames had started to worm into his body. It was a powerful short sentence.

This was it. This was the best that she could do. Cynthia, a logical person, turned heel and dashed away, slamming the bathroom door shut with a thundering boom. If she wasn’t so focused on herself, then she would’ve noticed that she was starting to cry. Her breathing was irregular, and her throat felt sticky as she witnessed it. Fortunately, she knew what was better for her, and fled.

God, ow. It hurt. The fire that was quickly charring his skin off overrode all the damage of the bat, which could only make it considerably worse. His senses were numbing up because of it, and it got so bad that he couldn’t do anything. If he could feel his original arm, then he would’ve known that it was completely gone.

Ram starting having memories. Flashbacks. He saw the cultists, and then he saw the children. The twins. Widowed man. Stuart. And now? He felt dizzy to the core. All this pain had given him a massive headache, and it seemed like it would go on forever if he had continued to live.

Just a little sleep would do, eh? Just... sleep it off... a rest, if you call it one.

Sleep for an eternity.

=

@perc-perc-perc