#did not actually mean to post this one it was supposed to be a draft but cest la vie i guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missgeniality · 1 year

Text

Strip Lawyer (m)

“Rules are for children.” - Joe Abercrombie

➺ Banner: The supremely talented @dnrequests 💛

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Tutor!AU, Lawyer!AU

➺ Genre: Smut

➺ Rating: +18

➺ Word Count: 8.4k

➺ Summary: Years ago, as Jungkook’s tutor, you played a game – but not to completion. Today, he does the teaching. And he’s intent on reaching the finale.

➺ Warnings: dom!reader x sub!jk then dom!jk x sub!reader, strip poker but education, implied consent, little power imbalance, seggsual tension, restraints, oral sex (m&f receiving), grinding, jungkook is a tease as always, dirty talk, kissing, alcohol, boob play ehehe, fingering (f receiving), pussy slap, spitting, tearing clothes, biting, degradation, unprotected sex, jk cums on her ass, cum eating (kind of)

➺ Cross Posted: AO3

➺ Author’s Note: This was supposed to be @taegularities‘s birthday gift because she asked for Lawyer!AU - but in true Siya fashion, it went out of control. So... here you go LOL happy buttday to youuu, hope you enjoy ittt 💛💛 The biggest thanks to @jimilter because she is the reason I did not delete the draft, thank you so much for all your help in fixing this mess, love you so muuucchh 💛 Also huge huge huge thanks to @alpacaseoks for helping me with the flow and giving me pointers in a big chunk of the fic, I appreciate it so much! 💛 Disclaimer: I am not a law student in any way so please don’t expect any accuracy. Just enjoy the sex, I’m begging. Let me know what y’all think, and as always, thank you for being here!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“You’re not serious.”

If only he knew.

“So. Serious.” You emphasise your words with a slap on his shoulder, “I won’t have it on my honour that a student under my tutelage has been failing the same subject for two years.” You raise an eyebrow at the hunched figure ahead, and knock on the table to bring his attention up to you.

“So you’ll just… Strip? Everytime I answer correctly?”

“That’s right,” you confirm, “and for every wrong answer, you strip for me. Simple.” You give Jungkook the widest grin you ever have, possibly too wide, because he only hunches further into his seat.

And it finally bursts your bubble.

“I mean… I’m just–you don’t have to do this, okay?” You scramble up from your seat, opening the distance between you two – placing yourself a good few feet away from the boy. “I was just… having fun with the idea—” With stumbling haste you continue to comfort him, “I jus–isn’t this like classic nerd porn that you’d watch?”

And you remember that comforting a fellow human being isn’t really your forte. You’re ready to gather all your belongings that are spread across the table, run away, change your name and hope like hell he doesn’t file you up for harassment.

Thankfully, your shabby attempt at damage control does ease Jungkook, and his back straightens a little bit as he brings himself to look at you.

“Not wrong,” he gives you a grin, “I–I really like that, umm, idea. Yes, let’s do it.”

He trails off, but not without a smile of burgeoning confidence – apparently not enough to finish that sentence with, but enough to give you one strong nod – and you have the affirmation you need. More affirmation is given by his not-so-subtle shift in his seat, that shows you something was making its presence known in the confines of his pants.

“All right, let’s start this. International Law and Relations is pretty easy, and actually has very interesting sub-topics – you can take subjects on this topic when you move to the next semester,” you pause flipping through the textbook and give your tutee, “if you move to the next semester. Thankfully, this year you have multiple choice questions, so… You better fucking pass, you hear me?!”

Jungkook only gives you a sheepish grin, his hands fiddling with each other.

“Okay, we’ll go through chapters randomly. Your first one – what is a country’s exclusive economic zone?”

On completing the question, you look up and await an answer – but the doe eyes that greet you back showcase that behind them, there is a lot of emptiness. Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised as he tries his best to push out any answer, any words, just anything from his brain. Alas, after two minutes, you give up.

“Okay, you’re going first then,” your voice breaks his intense thought process, and he flashes you a wide grin.

“Socks count right?” He pulls off the socks on both his feet, and wiggles his toes against the fresh air.

“Why you wear socks in this weather, it’s beyond me,” you huff an exasperated sigh, “but okay. One down. Exclusive economic zones are the sea-areas where coastal states have the right to exploit resources for economic gains. Think fisheries, mining, construction, artificial islands, and other endeavours. Capisce?”

“Got it. Next!”

“Love the enthusiasm,” you grin at his eager look, and open the textbook to a random page again, “okay, same chapter, what are the three international air laws?”

“Oh, I know this! I read thi–uhh, Public International Law, Private International Law…”

“Yesss? And?”

“Why is my brain saying Supernatural Law?”

One look at his bamboozled face and you burst out laughing. “Supranational Law! Not Superna—” Your persistent giggles have you dropping the book onto your lap, hands rushing to wipe a tear that makes its way down your cheek. You can see a bleary Jungkook, following suit in your snickers, his shoulders rising up – it’s a very cute view.

No, Jungkook is not your type of guy – and you will not make him.

You’re actually supposed to wrap up this session with Jungkook earlier than usual – because a party doesn’t wait for anyone – and last night Baekhyun told you he’d pick you up. When you asked him whether the party was, he only sent you a smirking emoji as a response.

Rude boys are your standard, and Baekhyun fits it to the tee. Jungkook, not so much.

But now you’ve started something that can’t possibly end soon.

“Okay, next item!” You aim to be loud, to quell that finagling thought in your mind.

“But—” Jungkook sputters out, “but I got that right?! Come on, it was close enough!”

You shake your head. “A hundred, or nothing. Chop chop,” you wave a gratuitous hand at his torso – and he obliges with a sigh.

God damn.

The gamer nerd, who probably doesn’t see the light of day – his body is way too beautiful for his character arc. You scan his whole chest with your glaring beam, pecs ogling back at you – totally unaware of how Jungkook is doing the same to you – it takes considerable effort for you to rip your eyeballs out and get them to focus back on his face.

You take a large, audible gulp to facilitate speech, “Okay, didn’t know that’s what would greet me – moving on—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean absolutely nothing, you closeted hottie,” you attempt to close that argument with that sole compliment – after all, you do have a tutoring responsibility – but Jungkook’s singular raised eyebrow makes you wonder if that party is really worth it.

Oh no, you need to make him pass this.

“Let’s move on now, or else you won’t ever move on from college,” you deflate whatever ego-ballooning Jungkook has – his bare shoulders slumping back to his hunched posture – and you internally grin.

Picking up the thick textbook, you flip through to find a new page laced with information. “Name three international hybrid tribunals, and their subject matter.”

“Okay okay, I just did this,” Jungkook starts off with confident, “the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, which is for the the prosecution of the people responsible for the assassination of the Lebanese Prime Minister, Special Court for Sierra Leone—” he pauses to take a deep breath and you watch his chest heave with an intent gaze, “which was for the Sierra Leone civil war, and finally… What was the–uhh– for the Kosovo War… Yes! Yes! Kosovo Specialist Chambers! The Kosovo Liberation army was put on trial,” he ends with a gleeful smile.

“There you gooo! See, you can totally do this,” you give him an encouraging nod, “what do you want me to take off?”

“O-oh, umm, your top?”

“Sure,” setting the book on the table, you slip out of your camisole, shaking your head to send your hair back to their place, “shall we move on?”

But moving on gets tougher when he eyes you like that. The air gets denser within your space, the room feeling too small to escape the tension, and too big to act upon it. You remind yourself multiple times – this chocolate boy isn’t going to be the end of your night – your night ends on Baekhyun’s unspoken promise – but the eclipsing eyes that follow your neon bralette are pushing your brain to reconsider how you write this evening.

“You–uh–you are really hot,” Jungkook’s fumbling words finally reach you.

You chuckle, stifling the urge to egg him on. “Thank you,” is your quiet response, and you both do well to stifle the snowballing tension.

“Okay, now I’m way more motivated to get my answers right,” he exclaims with vigour, and the two of you trudge forward, keeping up this charade of studies.

Many questions down, and you’re at quite the standstill.

Jungkook sits on his chair, not an inch of clothing on his body, stark naked – and you are about to lose your bra.

Apparently he can apply himself real well when there are lewd incentives at the end of the rainbow. You circumvented the inevitable, counting riddance of jewellery and accessories as stripping – but now you’re out of options. Jungkook’s lips – pulled into a tender smirk that isn't racy – don’t threaten to sweep you off your feet – but fuck, they still get to you. Supple, with the slightest hint of moisture making his waterline glisten… you ache to taste them, to run your fingers over them, to drip honey all over them and watch them turn sweeter than ever.

You need to get on Baekhyun’s dick. ASAP.

“Go on, I know that was right!”

Breaking out of your reverie with a demure huff, you smile your way out of your bra, and you can fully hear the deep inhale that your tutee has to take to this new view. With a brazen look of gloating, you cross your arms, letting your eyes and your cleavage do all the teasing – lest your tongue stumbles over the words and lands in his mouth.

“Shi–yo–you’re—” Jungkook’s words falter as well, giving you an extra boost of pride. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot – I’m sorry, is this the fifth time I’m saying this?”

You laugh with him. “Yeah, probably. Could use a thesaurus.”

“I don’t think my brain will process anything on it. This keeps coming out because I got practice. Said it about a hundred times in my head.”

With your head thrown back, your whole body jiggles in laughter, filling the room with mirth and joy to replace the leaden lust in the air. You bend forward to flick his forehead, knowing full well that the movement just makes your breasts look more enticing; if that was even a possibility. His cock is stiff as iron, and you can fill a drying lake with your current rate of salivation. Both of you clearly recognize that words are flowing slower than before, movements are more calculated than before, and most importantly, eye contact lasts way too long for either of you to ignore.

“Okay, umm, last question, then I need to be off.” You attempt to bring a close to this increasing strain in your throat, no matter how badly your body wants to delay your departure. “What years did the Hague Conventions take place?”

“I hate these questions,” murmurs Jungkook, “I remember the subject matters of it – it’s not like knowing the exact dates and times will help me avert war.” His pout makes you falter, like there isn’t a fully grown naked man in front of you, like he isn’t testing your limits right now.

“So… No answer?”

Jungkook shakes his hung head, having given up on finding an answer. “What now, I can’t peel my skin or something,” he starts, a very innocent tone for this ambiance.

“Yeah, I mean, I gotta g—”

“And I’m out of jewellery, too, so—”

“Yeah, it’s cool, I’m gonna head out anyw—”

“You wanna tie me up or something?”

Silence.

Too long of a silence.

“I mea—”

“Jeon. Jung. Kook.” Your staccato of words work as a beat, your legs moving in its sync. You bend down for a brief moment to pick up his discarded t-shirt, but the rest of your movement wastes no time in finding a seat on his lap.

His dick presses against your clothed core, imbuing the ache that he currently feels, and goody – you both are in serious pain. And when you lean ahead to gather his hands into a knot on his back, he takes a sharp inhale – your breasts doing everything his dick-led-brain has been wanting for the whole session – pressing against his chest to feel every throb that races through your body.

“You have no filter,” you whisper into his ear, making sure he feels your damp lips move, “do you?”

“N–N–I, me–nngghh,” Jungkook labours through this ordeal, his hips going the extra mile to close the gap between you two.

When you feel his hardness work against your pulsing clit, it only eggs you further, and the rudderless ship of your resolve yaws out of its lane, finding its anchor in the parted lips in your view.

If your surroundings could combust at the spark that you set off with the kiss, you’d be sitting in a castle of embers, licks of flames being innocent bystanders to the heat that your kiss generates. Your fingertips dig into the nape of his neck, and you swallow his groan with an eager tongue. Without a break, the kiss turns feral.

You push into his mouth. He returns in kind – although there’s nothing kind about the way he digs his teeth into your lip. The hiss you attempt to release never makes it out to the world – Jungkook is intent on ending this kiss only when the last breaths in your bodies threaten to leave, carrying along with them your consciousness.

And when that point comes, you part – your head is thrown back, and your hand carded in his hair pulls his back as well. Brisk, shallow breathing is the tune to which you gather your bearings. Your thighs burn for relief, the ache of holding your body in place settling in as the dopamine dies. From your awkward position, you flit an eye towards your partner in crime – and any dopamine that was dying, comes rushing back.

Your hands are still in the lush strands of his hair, and his lidded eyes are bouncing between many areas of view. Your libidinous eyes, your wet lips, your heaving breasts, or the junction of your thighs that give his hardness teasing touches. Maintaining this position, you dig into his cock, your flimsy underwear allowing your arousal to caress against his hot and awaiting length. He groans – it’s animalistic, it’s uninhibited, it’s none of the shy gamer nerd who cowered under the weight of your knowledge. His eyes, fervid, shuttle between all of your exposed skin, finding an anchor, but failing to stop.

“Look at you, is this what you really wanted?” It shocks you how far your voice shakes – what caused it – the kissing, the breathing, or the rock hard cock currently against your throbbing pussy? Who knows.

“I mean… We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this,” Jungkook bites out an answer with great difficulty, “I—I definitely wan—ungh!”

You just can’t resist. His neck. His clavicles. His bobbing Adam’s apple. His chest. His restrained arms making a tireless effort to feel you. You leech onto his sparkling skin, and drag your tongue in the confines – Jungkook’s words transform into unintelligent warble, just the way you like.

Sliding downward, and acknowledging the slight ‘fuck’ that Jungkook exhales with a smirk, you lodge yourself directly in front of his broad, heaving chest. The position is awkward — a lot of your body weight lays on your hands that balance you on the chair’s seat – but your current view makes any pain go away.

“Could this be the reason,” you land a soft peck in the middle of his chest, “why your grades are like this,” trailing your path with your nose, you move left, “we could have just gotten this over with,” you end the sentence with a swirl of your tongue around his already pebbling nipple.

He hisses a string of unintelligible curses, arching into your ministrations, “Yo–you’d have d–done tha—” His train of thought ends with an audible gasp when you engulf the nipple in your mouth.

“For my tutee,” you release his nipple with a pop and look back up at his eager-to-please-face, cupping a cheek, “anything.”

“Can y—can you get rid of thi–this?” He shakes his bound hands from behind, his shoulder muscles bulging in the movement.

You simply shoot him an innocent look. “But you asked for it, didn’t you?”

“I thought that was the best thing that could happen to me,” Jungkook huffs with a light pout, “right now, I’m regretting it so hard.” As he speaks, you move to trail a soft line of kisses across his chest, reaching his other, neglected nipple. With your eyes locked in with his, you lick around the nub again, enjoying his restrained groans from your vantage.

“You don’t like it? What would you do if you… could touch me?”

“Fuck, I would—I wo—God, I would wrap myself around you… take a big piece of that ass, tear off your fuckin’ underwear… Grab your tits and dig my face into them till it’s time to execute my will—”

You chortle, still busy teasing his chest and making it hard for him to make his words flow. “You don’t need your hands for the last one baby.”

Your skin rumbles against the loud groans of pleasure that come out of Jungkook when you press his face into your chest, and you feel him frantically lick and suck at your skin, tongue lolling at whatever it could catch a taste of.

“Ahh, this is—making me want some very bad things,” you chuckle at the throes of pleasure he is pushing you under, but are surprised at yourself how much your voice quivers as well. Jungkook makes a show of fighting his restraints; you very well know that you don’t have a sailor’s knot guide on you, and the fight he’s putting up is not more than the fight you had been putting up throughout this evening.

“Bad things?” Jungkook’s breathy whisper brings you back to his lips, and you drop back on his lap, grinding yourself just enough to let your wetness cover his twitching length. “You’re my tutor, I–I’m sure you only want the best for me.”

With your show of repress finally curtained, you drop to your knees, arching your back until you’re face-to-face with his member – tip leaking copious amounts of precum, owing to the hours of tension that you put him through. Jungkook’s thighs tighten under your enrapt gaze, and his staccato breathing is music to your ears.

“Well, since I am your tutor,” you preen before you drag your tongue around the base of his dick, “and since I want only the best for you,” you drag your tongue up his muscle in one long stroke, “let me give you the best that I have.”

You wrap your lips around him thinking about how sweet he looks. You draw figures with your tongue thinking about how he's absolutely not your type. You suck more of his length into you thinking about how his moans differ from your average partner. So sweet. So pure. So untainted.

So, so not for you.

Perhaps sweet is what you nee—

“I’m gonna cu—”

The shrill ring of your phone pierces through Jungkook’s uncontained moans as he empties into your mouth recklessly. With your eyes closed, you try your best to savour the crisp, salty taste, letting your tongue cheekily lap at his member until you feel him shudder under your stimulation. Satiated, you get to your feet, looking eye to eye with the doe-eyed monster – who has the gall to look so pure even now, hands tied, balls empty.

“I should… Get that.”

Unsurprisingly, Baekhyun is pissed that you kept his premium cock waiting at your doorstep, and you appease his injured ego while finding your clothes and bearings. Jungkook relieves himself of the ‘restraints’, eyes following your disrobed body as it finds its modesty back, piece by piece.

“Okay… my phone, my book, my jewellery… I think I got everything,” you announce to the small, overheated room. “Jungkook. Good luck, this is the one thing you gotta pass, make sure you reread chapters 8 to 11, don’t blindly mark something because it sounds reasonable because nothing in this world is, make sure you have eno—”

“But! Listen—” His voice, still so sweet, not a hint of demanding assertion in his tone, just plain and beautiful pleading. “Wh–when can we… Umm when can we m–meet again?”

Ugh, your heart.

“Listen, I’m going away on vacation, my exams are over,” with a mildly heavy heart you try to explain to him without rushing, “that’s why this was our last class. And after that, I’ll be moving away. But!” With a spring in your step you open his door to let yourself out. “Keep in touch! Keep texting me, okay?” With your second shoe on, you stand at the stairs leading you out of his apartment, and look at him for one last word.

And you see his beautiful body and almost crumble back into his apartment.

“Yeah… Will do, bye!” He pulls himself together and grants you a bright, guilt-free smile.

So sweet, even when you’re blowing him off. So, so sweet.

But you don’t do sweet. So accepting his goodbye, you run like a deer being chased by the hungriest predator, towards the spice that awaits at your door.

Damned professional attires. Why can’t they look good without having to be tended to every fucking day?

You curse yourself for the cup ramen breakfast that ruined your only good shirt, owing to which you have this stainless but wrinkled shirt on you. It is very out of place, the lush lobby walls making you feel like every crease on you is magnified by a thousand.

It’s obviously not the shirt that is making your stomach gurgle. It is the upcoming meeting that is creating turmoil in your insides, part dread and part excitement.

“He will see you now.”

This guy has a receptionist and an assistant. Why is he so boujee? One look at his office door and you already know – this meeting will not go as per plan.

And when you push the heavy-set mahogany door, and take the man sitting at the baroque desk, silhouette highlighted by the clear night sky behind him – you’re certain this night was made for trouble.

“Ah, look who it is.”

That voice. So different from the last time you spoke. Gone is the tender, dulcet voice of his, gone are his soft, vulnerable eyes, and gone is the benevolent disposition that he carried around with pride.

As he takes a good, slow look at you, assessing you from top to bottom, gleaming with mischievous confidence, you shuffle in discomfort at all this directed display of interest. The million twinkles in eyes have coagulated to turn into a ball of inferno. With that blaze, he drags his eyes all over you, tracing your contours with the pens of his gaze, making you feel nails and needles through your spine. Unabashed. Doesn’t care that you’re waiting to take a seat, doesn’t care about your obvious discomfiture, just holding you at your place like a puppet to his watchful leer. The black-on-black suit fits his body like a dream, and the things you want to do to him are straight out of a nightmare.

“Please, why are you still standing?” His assessment complete, he waves an arm to the plush leather seats at your disposal. “Have a seat.”

Moments of uncomfortable silence pass by you, but only you seem bothered by it. You hate how fidgety you are right now, showing your cards so plainly. But truth be told, you have no cards to show. You’re here for his help, and there’s no game to be played with him.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” you offer, making a general gesture to show his entire office space. You could fit nineteen of your cubicles in here, and still have space to waltz around. Your incessant jumping from one firm to another, attempts at finding footing wherever you land but ultimate dissatisfaction with whatever was presented to you led to a not-so-stellar career, and tonight, to this office.

“Thanks.” He offers nothing more. And his lack of words definitely stings.

How did someone who breezed through law school end up like this?

More importantly, how did someone who was barely passing subjects under you end up in a position of such power?

And most important of them all, how did you end up being at his mercy?

"So tell me,” he begins once again, bursting your bubble of self-detestation, “how can I help you?"

You take a deep, rich breath and start. "I'm assuming you read my email, so I just nee—"

"You're gonna have to pause right there. I didn't." A simple response, with a simple smile, and you simply want to crawl into a hole and never see sunlight ever again. Jungkook doesn’t even try to explain himself out of this – no excuse or reasons given as to why the email remains unread. And as happenstance would have it, you are in no position to ask him why.

"Very well." You tap the file ahead, taking a deep breath and starting again, "This file should have it all. It’s better if you read through it, I might miss details."

Jungkook’s extended, bejewelled hand accepts the file, and leafs through the bundle of papers you’ve prepared for him. But that is not what you’re internalising. You're too busy furtively eyeing his bedecked office, the wooden panels offering a private divide between the office space and a separate seating area. The ritzy furniture establishing the space, the lavish lighting giving more depth to the space, the skyline flaunting its glory above it all – you're fraught with uncontrollable envy.

A call to your name jolts you, moving your eyes to him.

“So do you need me as co-counsel? I hardly think you need the help.”

“Please, don’t patronise me,” you chide him, the repressed irritation showing its face. “I know I’ve not had the best set of years in this field. And I know I fucked up on this one, pardon my French.”

“Well,” he pays no heed to your agitated tone, pushing the file back to you – just enough, so you are forced to get up to reach, “you’re right about that. You fucked up. I can definitely look into this, but I have a heavy workload as it is.” He simply shrugs, a mock-saintly frown on his lips.

What happened to your sugar-cookie boy who would do anything to make you proud?

Who is this man?

“I know, but I’m—” You swallow everything in you that stops the words, “I’m desperate. This meeting was clearly out of desperation. I know you knew what this was about. Why would you accept an appointment this late if you weren’t going to take on the job?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you. Maybe I was curious what my tutor was doing, after leaving me high and dry that fateful night.”

He says it with such a harmless smile, like he just announced what he had for dinner. If you weren’t shaken yet, you now are.

“If I remember correctly, that was not the case. But for now, I’m asking for your help. That’s how I’m doing.”

“Yeah well,” with a smooth move, he gets out of his charcoal seat, and glides towards the tasteful couches placed on the other end of this palatial office, your heartbeat picking up pace from a gentle jog to a frantic pace, “I think I’m entitled to something in return.”

You follow him to the couch across the room, seating yourself on it – and taking a second to enjoy how comfortable it feels. “I literally swallowed your load that night. If anything, I’m the one entitled to this.”

“I’m sure your boy-toy that night gave you everything you needed, didn’t he?”

Deep breath. He remembers the night very well. Too well.

Did you expect that? No.

Did you want to find out?

Well, why else did you choose his name from a catalogue of high-end lawyers who could have saved your ass in this case?

What’s that saying… Curiosity kills your pus—

“Listen,” you interrupt your own reverie, “you will receive remuneration for your work, my boss is ready to—”

“Nuh–uh,” he tuts, “come on now, we really don’t need to play this cat and mouse game, do we?”

A deep exhale calms your nerves against this burgeoning yet desired situation, and you leave your seat to accept the glass of whiskey he’s offering you. After returning to the couch and gulping the hootch, you meet his accursed, biting gaze. “What can we even wager on like that night? It’s not like I have test questions to ask you anymore,” you throw the ball back into his court, desperately hoping he finds a good enough solution.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he teases you, sliding into the seat – it’s unbearable how good he looks with this confidence. He gets in your space, still holding his undrunk glass of whiskey, peering into your eyes as he makes his proposal. “I think a bit of role reversal will do us good,” he smiles back at you. “Do you good.”

“My definition of good, or yours?”

He smiles at your attempt at feigning confidence. “I don’t think they differ by much.”

In this quietude, the frenetic beating of your heart rings all the way up in your ears. It is a testament to how agog this transformed man leaves you; by the way he speaks, the way he looks, the way he commands your entire being. Words fail you, so you whisper a small ‘yeah’ and nod – you definitely knew where this night was going the moment you called his office, even if your ego strives hard to say otherwise.

“Let’s start simple,” he begins with a slap to his thigh, seating himself comfortably, “where did you go that night?”

What tactic is this? You’re baffled that this man – looking like a Michelin-star-seven-course-meal – cares about that one immaterial night.

Was it really immaterial, though?

Youngling Jungkook was probably offended, you posit to yourself, by the way you left things hanging (pun very much intended).

“How would you know if I lie?”

“I’ll decide that.” His eyes add “and you’ll follow.” No room for discussion is provided.

“Right.” You sip on your refilled glass, clearing your throat before you answer, “I don’t know if you know him, Byun Baekhyun.” You look in his eyes for recognition, but you can’t read anything, anything at all. “I had to meet him.”

“To fuck?”

“Well, yes. Drinks and then that.”

“Okay, I’ll take that.”

And you’ve passed question one – all your clothing fully intact.

“Next question,” his eyes filled with sensual mirth, “was he any good?”

“Oh my God,” you throw your hands up, ready to leave the seat in a show of exasperation, “are you—is this insecurity? After all these years?”

“Well, I’m asking the questions, so I don’t owe you an explanation,” Jungkook leans into the cushions, his confident manner growing with each passing second, “but you might say, I’m curious.”

A moment of silence passes.

“Yes.”

“Ahh…” He tuts at you, inching closer until you feel the microfibres of his coat against you, “Wrong answer.”

Of course it’s the wrong answer.

Byun Baekhyun might have been one of the best fucks of the campus, and you might’ve had a lot of fun with him on erstwhile rendezvouses, but that night wasn’t either of your nights, with him being pissed of at you for making his dick wait, and you having your mind glued on a totally different dick to his. The lie might have been obvious, but the fact that you’re having to accept it right now is making your ears heat up.

You don’t really need to do this.

Oh, but you do.

“Go on,” Jungkook coaxes you with his honey-dripping voice, lidded eyes tormenting you, “you know the rules.”

In the tense air, you take off a bracelet, the fake diamonds leaving a chill on your wrist. After dangling it in his face, you drop it onto the couch seat.

“Good…” Jungkook teases, wondering which deviation of his brain to follow next. “Next. Did you think about me while getting your mediocre pounding from Baekhyun?”

“Oh my God, no!” Your rude tone is extra sharp, like you didn’t even want to entertain the thought that Jungkook would think – Jungkook would know – that that’s what happened.

To this date, you do not remember anything of Baekhyun – your memories of that day have been painted with Jungkook and Jungkook alone.

“Come on now,” his smug visage turns ungodly, eyebrow cocked up, “a white lie. Off,” is all he says.

You bend down to reach for the buckle of your shoe. Owing to Jungkook sitting fairly close, your line of sight is delicious – his taut suit pants defining the thighs that he’s clearly worked for; basically ogling at his thighs and crotch in close proximity. With shaky hands, your shoes finally come off – no thanks to the burst of anticipation flooding your veins.

“Have you ever thought about us on lonely nights?” The closer he moves, with each syllable of utterance, the farther you feel from a sense of control.

“No…” Your words stammer, and you mentally give the point to Jungkook. Looking up, you find him smirking at your shrinking stature.

“Ahh… You make it too easy,” he just chides you, and you start slipping out your rings.You’re well aware that you are the one dragging this out – but the “yes” just does not want to grace your lips.

Maybe because you actually like this game.

Maybe you’re enjoying this end of the show.

And maybe, you finally want to see this game to completion.

“Just so you know,” Jungkook purrs into the shell of your ear, leaving you wondering when he moved so close, “I think about your slick on my cock a lot.”

The desperation in your countenance is so visible, it’s pathetic. You wait in silence for the next question, eager to jump to the finale, but the path to the end is far too enjoyable to skip.

“Do you want to continue where we left off?”

“No.” Your answer is straight, to the point, no embellishments.

Instead, you let your hands do the talking.

In one smooth action, you unzip your skirt and pull it down, without a prompt from the dastard ogling at you. Every move you make, you feel his stare burn into your skin, countering the chilly air filling the room. You sit back with your legs tightly closed – not out of any false sense of modesty, that has never been your strong suit – but the unceasing throbbing of your clit needs temporary relief or else it will jump out and land into his mouth.

The distance between you two has steeply decreased, and you can’t tell who’s at fault anymore. In any case, this proximity is most welcome, as per the anticipatory goosebumps that decorate your skin. Swirling his yet-unfinished drink in his hand, ice cubes clattering against each other, Jungkook takes your exposed legs in that are only barricaded by your pantyhose. It’s not the best material – you’ve been wearing the same one for a week now, displaying many scratches and tears – but Jungkook’s eyes don’t even seem to register it.

But what is with this speed? He is fully intent on making every second of your horny existence miserable. In a desperate attempt to get a fraction of his touch, you bring your leg up – making the move as slow and deliberate as possible – landing it on his thigh. The best begging you can do without actually voicing it out.

Jungkook, however, is a man of many talents – ignoring your direct needs being a prime one. After a light sip, he brings his glass down to your leg, the bottom rim touching under your toe – and you hiss at the ice-cold feeling that spreads across your foot, as the condensate spreads its influence.

“I have so many questions for you…” Jungkook whispers to you, watching you twitch, “but I’m having too much fun right now.”

Just when you begin to ask whether his dictionary reads ‘fun’ differently, he drags his cold glass upward, painfully slow, traversing your foot, then along your shin bone, letting the precipitate draw a path of icy chill on the map of your body. Meeting your eyes to just plant a cheeky wink into your brain, he continues forging ahead – until he can reach mid-thigh. He stops there long enough to hear you hiss – only then do you feel the glass move away.

If you weren’t already panting, you are now. Very audibly so. It is all you can hear in the room, in fact.

That is, of course, until Jungkook assaults all your senses by dragging you awfully close to him, extracting a gasp from you – his grip on your thigh is tighter than the band in your stomach begging for a release, and you relish the feeling.

“Do you, want me,” he says into the miniscule space that’s left between your lips, “to kiss you right now?”

You can’t decide what demands your spotlight; is it his gaze boring holes into your skin, or his lips that are now glistening deliciously?

“No.”

“Hmmn,” Jungkook turns away from you, and you almost rise in alarm – until you register his next actions, “thought so.”

One second to completely sip all of his whiskey. Another second for his lips to land on yours.

Finally.

The fantasies of this night blend into reality, and instead of doing the rational thing – thinking why you ended up like this – you give into the kiss.

Not only does he kiss you hard, like the future of his world depends on it, he also pushes in his undrunk whiskey into your eager mouth. The liquid swirls between the colliding tongues, some leaking out of the corners of your mouth – the rest coating the insides of your cheeks with a lush, rich and robust flavour – flavours that didn’t pop when you drank it from your own damn glass.

You kiss until the whiskey gets drunk – by whom, is a mystery – and before you can tend to the stray drops down your face, Jungkook’s hand grabs your chin to keep you still.

God, your last kiss was nothing like this. The blood buzzing in your ears is thunderous, reacting to the contradiction between the soft, tender kisses exchanged all those years ago, and the jagged, raw conquering of your lips happening right now. Your roughened lips burn under the remnants of alcohol, but it’s nothing compared to the searing you feel when Jungkook lets his tongue languidly glide against your gnawed skin.

“Now, since it was the wrong answer…” He husks, his fingers moving inward, closer and closer until they land just below your collar, “I have no choice but to—”

One mighty sharp tug – and all the buttons of your shirt have popped, flying all around the two of you. His hands, still clutching the buttonless seams of your shirt, harshly pull you back into him. Lips firmly sealed back onto yours, he sends his hand roaming.

“This is what you needed that night, eh?” With one hand back to digging in your jaw, he mouths the words into your cleavage, teeth digging deep into whatever they can grab, “Sweet boys just don’t cut it for you.” He moves up to the nook of your neck, his other hand slotting between your thighs, “For all the attitude you had back then, all you want then is to be treated like a street slut. And you’re still the same. Whores don’t change.”

Rude boys are still your standard, and Jungkook has become just that.

“Ow—fuck, don’t leave mar–marks, man,” you attempt an angrier voice while avoiding his truth bomb – because yes, aren’t you knocked out, over the moon right now? The voice that emanates is feeble, with no brawn to be found.

He too, doesn’t pay you any heed – teeth tugging the flesh in his clamp until he can hear you hiss, then letting it go, letting his tongue soothe the sting.

“You can pretend to hate it,” he sneers at you, his low tone whisper sending shivers like a snowy night, “your lips can lie, but your body? From the moment you walked in, I know your pussy’s been screaming to be filled. Just thank your stars I’m generous, huh?”

You’re drunk. On just two fingers of whiskey? That can’t be it. Definitely, it’s the heady concoction of the alcohol and Jungkook’s very able hands – one of which is enjoying the feel of your perking nipple.

While one hand goes back up to roughly dig into your neck, the confines of your throat feeling the heat of his lust, his other arm wraps holds your back, making sure you don’t lean too back and lose your balance. It’s sweet.

What’s not sweet, however, is how long this is taking.

He pushes you until you’re balancing your head on the armrest, with one knee digging into the cushion beside you, the other firmly planted on the carpeted floor. Within a wink of an eye, he’s moved down – and you feel his tongue play over your bra, teasing your nipples, reminding you of a forgotten (but not really) past – a harsh suckle under your boob releases the trapped moan, but it sounds battered; perfectly showcasing your state of mind.

“How about this,” he whispers, looking up from his actions, “you think I can get you to come without taking anything else off?”

Do you have the mental fortitude to deal with the consequences of your bratty answer?

“No.”

The fingers fiddling with your bra hooks halt – instead, he descends onto your clothed breast, biting over the fabric, fully knowing that your sensitivity was through the roof. You cuss and moan, growing frustration urging for more, but you do not beg.

“Funny how life changes,” he coos, shifting attention from one boob to the other, “today you’re the one tied down. And lucky for you,” with not a hint of weariness in his voice, “I don’t have to be anywhere, anytime soon.”

No ties, no ropes, no chains – hell, not even that overworn, oversized tee of his – and he’s still so right about it. Not a part of you wishes to move away, your pathetic self just wrapped around his agile fingers.

Said fingers now hold your cheeks, squeezing until your quivering lips give an opening – and he drops a ball of spit right over. You lay there, entranced, taking what he has to give, your writhing less prominent now. Anything that falls outside the outline of your lips is gathered by his thumb, massaged over your mouth, then inserted for you to suck to your heart’s content. Which you do.

“You’ve shanghed sho mush,” you speak past his thumb; he definitely doesn’t try to make it easier on you, pushing his digit further inside, putting your tongue through a test of endurance.

“So have you,” is his simple response, dragging his wettened thumb across your cheek.

“Not as much as you, for sure.”

“I don’t think the mouthy bitch years ago would suck spit off of my thumb.”

“You don’t know that.” With his eyes widening ever so slightly, you continue, “But surely, the geek from years ago wouldn’t have spit in my mouth in the first place.”

“You don’t know that either.”

Just when you think you’re done seeing stars with the roof on, Jungkook hooks the band of your bra in his teeth – like the primitive animal that he is – and pulls at it, just to let it snap back at your skin. The unannounced action makes you squeal, even though it didn’t really hurt – he’s got your body so alive, a feather could hurt you if he wielded it.

With the odd, oafish position of yours; one leg on the couch, the other hanging off loose, head balanced precariously on the armrest with your arms dutifully out of his way – you try to get him where you need him, knee nudging his thigh while your hips wriggle under an invisible spell. Finally, he acquiesces, settling down at the couch with your legs unwrapped on either side for his viewing pleasure. His palms squeeze the flesh of your thighs, a small tsk falling off his lips at the touch of your pantyhose.

“Tearing doesn’t count as taking off, right?”

“What?”

You don’t get a response – not in words, atleast. The loud rip that follows is the only answer he graces you with, your worn down pantyhose having its last wear forever. But his easy access only brings you gratitude when two fingers enter the tear in a split second, pushing your underwear inside your sopping core.

“Mmmhh—Fuck!”

Jungkook just laughs at your helpless body writhing beyond control as he explores everything he didn’t have a chance to before. Fingers travelling down, then up, inside, then outside, around and about – everything, only egging you further on.

“After all these years…” Jungkook purrs, not directly to you, eyes only connected to the juncture of your thighs, “you deserve a good fucking. What should I do, huh? Should I make you come, then drop off the face of the earth?” His tongue swipes the length of your crevice, sending shudders down your thighs. “Or should I spend this whole night doing all the things I’ve been meaning to? Cover you in my jizz and parade you across the office? Show everyone what an excellent tutor you were, and your very innovative teaching methods.”

Your brain has no filter when exposed to the horny, and his last words made it do just that – you latch onto whatever words best serve your purpose.

“You–you’ve been meaning… To?”

“Meaning to fuck you against every possible surface of this room,” is what Jungkook says, but with his fingers entering your cunt and exploring about, you don’t register anything. “As a thank you, you know? Meaning to see you fall apart on my fingers, just like this—” He pushes in hard, your pussy throbbing around his digits. “Meaning to cum inside you, over and over again, and have you crawl around this space, dripping everywhere while I sit and watch your sullied body prepare itself to take more.”

Well, the last one is oddly specific. Even more odd is how much more aroused the thought makes you.

“Wow, umm—w–well—” Swallowing the wad of spit accumulating in your throat, you offer, “Since you clearl–ooh, clearly, know how to make me come,” you look him in the eye, tears of desire pooling in the corners of your eyes, “so fucking do it. S–Stop playing around.”

“But with a plaything as sweet as you,” he moves to kiss your clothed pussy, his fingers still playing imaginary music inside your walls, “with a toy as slutty as you,” another kiss, so delicate it hurts you, “hard to not play around.”

Hands unfettered from the mental shackles that Jungkook put on you, you pull him back up to you, lips smushing together once again – your other hand wraps around his wrist, grinding onto whatever surface his palm offers, using him like a glorified sex toy. He grunts hard into you, a vague attempt made at bringing you back under control, but your tongue is beguiling, and he stays under your hold.

Until he isn’t.

“A—w—fuck!”

Jungkook’s sadistic streak continues when he frees his wrist from your clutches, and smacks your clit once, twice, thrice – in quick succession. Your nub would buzz if it could, and a string of expletives release from you when he does it again – this time, with a greater backswing.

With a sharp tug to his still-on blazer, you pull him up. “Fucker,” you sputter, making your first and last request of the night, in a desperate attempt to get the ball rolling, “let me suck your dick.” Your hands already flounder around his crotch, until he pulls them away, back to their previous confinement. In the background, you can hear his belt jingle; but all you can see is his arresting face.

A deep-throated laugh emerges from him, “Wasn’t last time enough?” He coos at your cock-hungry plea, pushing you back down and fiddling with your legs. “Next time, okay?”

“Next ti—uungghh!”

Barely able to complete your showcase of surprise, because this is the way he announces his acceptance – he pushes into your core, without warning, but he receives a warm welcome in the walls of your pussy.

“We have a lot,” he emphasises with a thrust, “a lot of work to do, don’t we?” He pulls out just enough to leave you whining, then pushes back in with a grunt of satisfaction; his moves are calculated enough to leave you wanting while maverick enough to leave your spine tingling. “And a lot of catching up as well.” He hovers over you after positioning you better, both of your bodies lying along the length of the couch, before getting right back into your gushing entrance.

One particular thrust has you arching up, the shock of pleasure stagnating in your body for a hot second, making your head lag and voice wane. Jungkook sheaths himself completely, before slotting his face in the nook of your neck, heavy breaths licking at your heated skin. Not one to miss an opportunity, you take the lobe of his ear between your lips, letting your teeth graze over the skin.

“Mmmh, yes,” he keens, tilting into your touch, “make it hurt, baby.”

Whether it is the words he uttered, or the way his whisper travels down to your cunt, you dig your teeth into the flesh, immediately rewarded with a mouthwatering flurry of cusses stuttered into your neck.

“It’s,” Jungkook pulls out of you in an instant, turning you around by your waist, “not,” he pushes your head back onto the headrest, your cheek bulging as you try to get a look at him, “enough.”

And the way he slams back into you, you feel your soul fight your body to escape. You mewl into the deathly quiet, his dogged jackhammering hurtling you towards your most awaited high of the day – hell, the most awaited all these years. He pistons into you, covering every inch of your skin in a sea of flames. Your orgasm finds you like a river in spate, gushing through its path, fighting boulders in its wake, carving its way through your entire body.

Sounds of the room start feeling like echoes, slapping balls, grunty exhales, a weirdly long cloth rip that does not belong – but your ears are ringing, your mouth is drooling, and your brain is ready to shut down. Being jostled like a muppet feels like home, and you only start waking up when spurts of liquid coat all of your ass, thighs, and slit.

In true asshole fashion, Jungkook tore all of your pantyhose, fabric loosely hanging on the sides, seams split until all of your ass and thighs were open for his pleasure.

In truer asshole fashion, Jungkook left you a mess, cum trickling down your glutes, pooling at the bend of your knee.

And in truest asshole fashion, he is wiping his unsullied fingers clean, without a second thought about your current dishevelled disposition.

Ugh. You love to put yourself in a position you can’t get out of.

How the fuck will you get home? This jerk won’t give you a ride.

Also, none of your bones work.

You lay your head on the armrest, finding feasible ways out of this situation. It's going to be nice riding the bus with dried cum itching your ass. There must be a washroom in this boujee office, of course. You finally gather the strength to raise your head and look for one – but interception comes sharp and swift.

“Already done, huh?” Jungkook’s fingers press into the nape of your neck, pushing you back down, your tendons feeling the pressure of his stronghold.

“I—” You stutter and stumble again, just like the start of the night, “I thought we—”

“Don’t you remember?”

“What?”

“Hmmmn,” he sponges kisses over your clothed back, making his way downward, “stupid girl said I couldn’t make her come without taking anything off.”

Ah.

Stupid girl did say that.

Stupid girl also has her speaking right revoked right now, because Jungkook is collecting the half-dried cum on your ass with his tongue, awakening your dying senses once again. His final move is a start to the next chapter of your night, as he pushes his tongue into your velvet heat, depositing the cum where it belongs.

“Guess we keep playing, huh?”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!

#bts #bts fanfic #networkbangtan #bts fanfiction #bts smut #jjk smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jeongguk smut #bts imagines #bts fic #jeongguk fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook

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writingoddess1125 · 7 months

Text

Your Name

I forgot to post this very old Extra here! It was one of the first ones I posted on A03 and it just seems like I left this in drafts! Sorry Darlings!!

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You had been sitting in the bedroom reading, finally getting some peace and quiet. Greatful for these moments since they were far few between.

"Mommy!" You heard shouted just outside the bedroom and sighed closing the door. Far far between it seemed... the door opened and Bee decided to jump onto you, You screaming and quickly catching the heavy boy.

"Benny Don't jump on people like that!" You yell as you hold the giggling boy. Looking to Dee who stood there politely.

"Hey Mom- we have a question-" Dee asked as he jumped next to you, you trying to juggle Bee who had decided that swan diving on you was the best course of action despite being too damn heavy for that.

"Yes what is it?" You asked calmly, Setting Bee down on the floor as you looked to Dee, who nervously messed with his hands.

"Well I know we have your last name.. but since we know Dad now shouldn't we have his so... what is Dads Last name?"

You opened your mouth to reply before pausing. You had given them your last name out of convenience but actually didn't know.

"I'm not sure-" You admit as you had never thought about it before. Buggy never did talk much about his potential heritage or who his parents were. You knew he was raised on Gol. D Roger ship with Shanks but nothing else.

"Can we ask him?" Dee questioned, you giving a shrug not seeing why not and leading the two twins up to the top deck were you knew Buggy was.

"DAD!" Bee yelled as he slammed himself against the Clkwn Captian as he was at the wheel, who yelled and tossed off the laughing child into the newly installed plastic ball pit that occupied the top deck, this clearly being an odd game shared between the two despite Buggy pretending to be mad.

"Dad we have a question for you" Dee asked calmly, standing by your side.

"Whats your full name?" Bee asked loudly, you watch as Buggy body seemed to bristle at this and he muttered under his breath rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why do you want to know that?.." He questioned with a raised brow.

"Cause we have Mom's and wanted to know yours!" Bee yelled as he got out of the ballpit, making sure to pelt Buggy with one of the rubber balls which he happily returned the favor.

The Captian seemed to chew on this information as he looked at the boys. Sighing dramtically and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine Fine- its....Nefertari D. Buggy"

He muttered, you felt your jaw drop at this as the boys just looked confused.

"N-Nef-ee-tary?" Bee tried to repeat clumsily. Buggy patted his head in reward for his clumsy try.

"Nefertari Lad. In this case it would mean you two are Nefertari D Benny and Nefertari D Danny"

He said calmly, you still trying to mentally gather what the fuck Buggy just said.

The boys seemed to accept this and run off happy with their last names- clearly having ditched yours in favor of their father. You looked to Buggy with a raised bow, him waving one of the men who handed him some papers to look over.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? That's a huge deal Buggy-"

Buggy shrugged, his eyes still focused on his papers. You had known Buggy for a long time and stepped closer infront of him since he still refused to meet your gaze.

"...a-are you ashamed?" You questioned quietly, watching his gaze finally meet yours as he lowered the papers from his gaze with a heavy sigh.

"No- I'm not shamed... however I won't acknowledge people who don't acknowledge me (Y/N) that family included-" He said a bit sharply as he looked at you. You stood back a bit at his words and sighed softly

"That seems fair I suppose" You say softly. Knowing that Buggy in his own way had his reasons for not wanting to reveal his family name.

"You do realize the boys ate going to be spreading it like wildfire though-" You point out but Buggy shrugs.

"Honestly they look the part so no one will be surprised- it's also not like they don't cause enough trouble already" He pointed out which made you laugh.

"That is very tru-" A loud explosion on the side of ship caught both of your attentions before hearing poor poor Cabaji scream.

"BOYYYSSSS!!!!"

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #dad!buggy #one piece buggy #buggy #op buggy

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tikus-library · 4 months

Text

"Books to Bread"

Night Hunter AU

Characters: Walter Marshall x Reader

Posted: Feb 10th

WARNINGS: none?

A/N: Have a draft dump. I want to do more for this, but life is a bit chaotic rn. I haven't posted in a minute, so this is one of my many hidden drafts. I did attempt to edit but 🤷‍♀️

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

It was hard to miss the guy.

Definitely over six foot, dark unruly curls framing a serious face with a thick beard, thick dark brows drawn down as a scowl marred his lips. Nice lips, you thought, eyes raking over his tall muscular form. No better than a man, you scolded yourself with a smirk.

You shifted, careful not to draw attention to yourself as the other women in the book shop didn't even try to hide the way they ogled him.

In the town of Port Tenebris there weren't many that looked like him and plenty more women ready to welcome him. You had heard there had been a recent new body that had moved into town, ex-detective, if gossip was right…

“I've read that one.”

You jumped at the low smooth voice that came from beside you and looked over and then up… and up again till you met deep vibrant blue eyes. You swallowed as he reached out with one thick arm, fingers catching your elbow as he offered you a smile in apology.

“I didn't mean to surprise you…?”

The way he lifted an eyebrow meant he was asking for your name, instead you looked down at the book in your hands, “into romance?” You asked instead.

He held the smile, “not ashamed of it,” he answered, “and that one is actually more of a forensic thriller.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he offered you a quick tilt of his head and a smile before going back to looking at the books in front of you. “It's a romance,” you stated.

He flipped through the book in his hands, it looked tiny, he shrugged without looking at you. He had of course seen you enter the bookstore, not that he had been following, no. He had most definitely not followed you from the tiny diner where you had verbally assaulted a jackass of a man that had been handsy with the young waitress there.

He simply wanted to get your name. Maybe your phone number… how did he do this again?

“It's a romance,” you said again. “I have every book by Billie Martinez, she writes romance.”

“I mean,” he shrugged again, suppressing the smirk that itched to fight its way to his lips, out the corner of his eye he saw you turn to him and scowl. This was something, ever since he'd stepped foot in this little Port every woman had given him the look, it had been amusing at first.

“Explain.”

He coughed to hide the short laugh that escaped him, “she hides it under the romance, but, when you read it you'll understand. You'll also want to slap the shit out of the male lead.”

You looked down at the book in your hands, he let his eyes wander to your curvy waist, “maybe… I shouldn't get it” you mused, thinking of the man at the Cafe you had laid into, “I think I've had my fair share of irritating men for the day.” He made a noise that had you looking up in time to catch his tongue flick out over his bottom lip, eyes jerking up to meet your gaze.

Had he…? No.

He cleared his throat, “fair,” it was all he could think of and watched as you started to put the book back, “but I could pay for it and then you'll not regret leaving it behind.”

You sighed, this conversation had already gone on longer than you had wanted. You had purposefully been attempting to avoid talking to him as conversations with others always seemed to go awry. In a weird way. You supposed it was your fault, no one else had that problem really.

“No, no need to buy me a book when you don't even know me.”

“Walter.”

You took a small step back, a little confused.

“Walter Marshall, Im… th-thats my name,” he smiled awkwardly, turning to you and shoving a hand into his pocket. “I started work in the Bakery in town? Owned by Kate and her husband? Uh, they offered me a job there… Now I'm not a stranger.”

You nodded, fingers tapping at the book's spine, before letting your arm drop to your side. “Nice to meet you Walter Marshall, who works in the bakery owned by Kate and her husband. I should be going.”

He had struck out yet again. Sighing heavily as you stepped away and made for the front of the store. He snatched the book up and hurried after you, eyes falling on your ass, before he rolled them scolding himself silently.

“Please, no name, let me buy you the book then. You collect her books and it'll be incomplete.”

You pulled away from him, studying him warily.

He knew that kind of look and took a step back. “I'll leave you alone,” he hummed, turning away, he shouldn't have pushed. Maybe you had moved here to hide yourself, he understood that.

“Alright,” he heard you sigh and turned around quickly. “But don't complain if I come down to find you at the bakery and yell at you there about the dumb male lead.”

Walter grinned, “you won't hear a complaint from me.” He watched you tilt your head to the side, enjoying how easily he could read your thoughts clear in your expression. “I'll even treat you to something I've baked.” Your eyes jumped back to his face, something he decided he wanted right then and there. To have your full and complete attention. “To apologize for dumb males that is.”

You snickered, eyes lighting up, “then I hope you are a baker of delicious sweets and golden bread!”

He almost forgot to breathe as your eyes scrunched up beautifully as you laughed. “You'll fall in love with my bread and butter,” Walter flashed you a toothy grin as he led you to pay for the book, “plus, this is essential to the series. You can't miss out on this book.”

“Oh, no! Then absolutely buy it.”

You followed along, noting the pairs of eyes tracking the two of you. There would be gossip and questions, a little inconvenient but nothing you couldn't handle. He thanked the cashier who nodded wordlessly and stepped towards the door where he paused, dragging a pen out of his pocket and scribbling on the receipt, tucking it into the cover of the book.

“In case the bakery is closed and you want to yell at me.”

You felt your neck heat, he wrote in all capitals, clear and neat. He crossed his sevens, huh. “No promises.”

Walter scowled at his phone, yet was quick to flick the screen and scan the words there blearily. It was past three am and he was due up in an hour to begin baking.. right. He was a baker now.

Unknown: I love thick slices of warm bread with butter that melts beautifully.

Unknown: He deserves to be run over…. Multiple times.

Unknown: what an idiot. He let her walk away?!

He sat up and smiled.

WM: I did warn you, suppose I owe you bread.

Unknown: Y/N

WM: ?? Uhh, which character?

Unknown: my name is Y/N

Walter woke up fully.

WM: nice to meet you Y/N.

Leave Kudos on Ao3

#books to bread #walter x reader #walter marshall #night hunter au #henry cavill #draft dump

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pedge-stuff · 9 months

Note

God I just thought about an idea for pedro and reader, reading your last post...

They are in a relationship and live together. The reader is also an actress. She asks pedro to practice her lines with her. In the play, she is having a really long line, breaking up with the person ans leaving them... pedro can't continue... at night in bed they are cuddling and pedro talks about how he hated the feeling or the thought of the reader ever leaving

(changed this slightly, hope that is OK...)

bad acting (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

thanks, as always, for everything.

(also I did that thing where I didn't save this on drafts fast enough and the whole fucking thing deleted so you could say im LIVID sorry if this rewrite felt rushed.)

summary: things get a little... too real.

—————————————————————————

"You can't laugh."

"I'm not gonna laugh!"

Pedro hands you his iPad, script loaded on the screen. "I'm serious," you warn him, "you had to stop last time, the acting was so bad."

"Just read the sides, baby."

You know he isn't nervous about the audition— if he was, he sure as shit wouldn't be practicing with you. Those rehearsals are reserved for his coach, or someone who can actually talk him through the scene. This was just a formality, a quick read-through for some anthological TV show about people in failing marriages. Season 2 of Oscar's old Amazon thing. With the audition being on Zoom tomorrow, the whole process feels fairly relaxed.

"Should I read it in a lady voice? Will that set the scene?"

"Please don't."

"Scottish accent?"

"Babe."

"Hmm." You clear your throat loudly, for dramatic effect. Across the room, feet propped on the desk, Pedro rolls his eyes. He's got his cheaters on, but no script— the audition's supposed to be off-book. "From the first page?"

"You're stalling."

"Ugh. Ok. Here we go." Leaning forward, you scroll to the highlighted text on the iPad. "Stop, David. You don't know what you're talking about."

Pedro's posture straightens; ever the professional, it's like watching a switch flip. The humored lines beside his eyes, little crows feet that crinkle when he looks at you, disappear completely. His brow furrows, gaze darkens.

"Of course I do, dammit. I'm done with this, all of this. It's like living in a mausoleum, Emma. I'd rather. Do you remember what love even feels like? Because I look at you, and I just... don't, anymore."

"You don't mean that."

"I do! I'm so tired of this. Life with you is joyless. Every day, I come home from work and just sit in the goddamn driveway because I don't want to come in the house. It's hard to be in the same room as you. I can't bring her back, Emma, and I miss her and I'm sorry she's dead. But it isn't my fucking fault and I wish you'd stop pretending it was."

His voice cracks, just a little. You frown as he grabs the glass of water beside him, pausing to wait, but he motions for you to continue.

"That's cruel," you read, "and you know it. That's not fair."

"None of this is fair!" Pedro exclaims. "That's the whole point. It's not fair that our daughter is dead while the girl who was driving got to walk away clean. Life isn't fucking fair. But it's life. And you've sucked all the light out of mine. I can't stand you, anymore, I'm sorry. I just can't. It's not that we can't make it work, it's that I don't want to make it work. If I never see you again, it'll be too soon. Jesus christ, I hate every part of this."

"Are you done? Have you gotten it all off your chest?"

"Don't placate me! This isn't one of your stupid therapy sessions, Emma, you can't fix this with a breathing worksheet and a roleplaying exercise. Be fucking serious. Every day I wake up and I wish I'd never met you. At least then, she wouldn't be dead, because she'd never have existed. And maybe I'd known some goddamn peace."

The page ends there, and you glance up. Pedro has his head in his hands, eyes closed.

"That was good," you offer tentatively, searching for some kind of sign as to what his next move is. He's gracious about work stuff, but you're always a little afraid of mucking up his process.

When he looks up, his eyes are glossy. "Yeah," Pedro says, croakily, clearing his throat quietly before rising from the chair. He takes the iPad back, wordlessly, shuttering the case over the screen.

"Wanna do it again? You were spot-on, Pedge, but we can go over it again if you want to."

"No," he says quickly. "No, I'm good. I'm fine. It's on Zoom, it'll be easy. I'm fine."

Weird. Just a little. Before you can dwell on his sudden cageyness, he's up, headed for the door.

"I'm gonna walk the dogs. We can catch up on Bake-Off, when I get back?"

Pedro leaves before you can answer.

— — —

No sooner have the leashes been hung back by the door, than Pedro is beside you on the couch, all hands and light touches. It's as if he can't bear to lost contact. You allow him to reposition you, reaching a hand around your waist as you reach for the remote.

"Good walk?"

He hums, tugging you against him. Settles, finally, once you're half-reclined, back against his chest, arm around your middle. You fiddle with the edge of his sleeve as the bakers fumble their way through the signature challenge.

It's not that the clinginess bothers you— he's like this sometimes, when he's just returned home, or you've arrived in LA, or met somewhere in the middle. Every separation leaves him want for touch. It's the one thing you can't give him, while you're apart.

But he's been home a couple weeks now, in between reshoots for a new project. Been home all day, in fact, in an orbit around you while you attempted to work from home. (A little too close, frankly, but you can't really complain.)

"You okay?" You whisper, as the timer runs down on the technical bake.

No answer. Just a tightened grip on your waist, and a firm kiss to the top of your head.

— — —

It isn't until later, in bed and half-asleep, that you pinpoint the source of the tension.

You'd have thought he was already asleep, save for the soft carding of his fingers through the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. Deep, even breaths tickle your forehead; he's curled around you, arm draped over your back. Had positioned himself this way silently, looking a little silly brooding in his Muppet-patterned pj pants.

"We're never reading lines again," Pedro whispers into the darkness.

"Was the acting that bad?"

Your attempt for levity falls flat. He is quiet, long enough for you roll backwards slightly, to get a better look at his face. A deep-set frown has taken root.

"No, it..." He tugs you closer again, tucking your head beneath his chin. If he weren't so sad, you'd call uncle for claustrophobia; your nose is squished into his jugular. But you lay still, waiting for him to continue.

"It felt too real," Pedro concedes. He inhales sharply, and you can feel it against your own chest.

The kiss you press to the hollow of his throat, doesn't feel good enough. You wiggle, tilting your head to press one against his toothpaste-tasting lips. Whiskers tickle the corner of your mouth.

"Baby, I know you were... pretending." A thin line between placating him and treading on his professionalism. "If our pretend daughter died in a car crash, I know you wouldn't divorce me for being too sad."

"It's not funny." With a groan, he kisses you again, resting his forehead against yours. "I hated saying that stuff to you. Felt too real."

The bone-crushing spooning is making a little more sense, now.

"I love you, but you're a sap."

"Hmph."

You smile into the next kiss. "A very sweet sap, though."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #din djarin #joel miller #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x male reader #joel miller x male reader #the mandolorian

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leggerefiore · 3 months

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Can I request how submas, piers and other celebrities would react to the whole mob wife fashion trend? How would they react to fans dressing up as their "girlfriend" or what not?

guessing this is like more of a weird cosplay thing than like what I did for villains. also an s/o there since. x reader blog and all lol.

also first time writing piers so it may suck💔

cw: light jealousy? kinda sorta

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Piers, Elesa

▲Ingo▼

● The second he sees something related to a fan dressing in a “train wife aesthetic”, whether it be from Elesa showing him a post she saw online or in person somewhere in the Gear Station, he instantly is distressed by it. Why? He had heard of people wanting to buy his and Emmet's coats and hats, but that made sense with them being local celebrities in Nimbasa. Their choices confused him further. Something about the focus on sweaters alongside a strange fascination with the colours black, purple, and white left him baffled. It almost felt like they were taking from his casual outfits, almost.

● He supposes he does not mind, though. It was nothing too out of the ordinary. He had witnessed people dressing up as him and his brother, so this felt like some other odd things his fans did. As long as none of them were actually claiming to be his partner, he decided this was nothing that he needed to address. Ingo would just wait this out, assuming that people would eventually get bored and move on after a little while.

● Though, if his actual partner was upset by this, he might feel less happy with it. Especially if there were a few outliers of the mean daring to claim that they were in a relationship with him. Ingo would hate for people to cause distress in you and would likely ask that people please stop pretending to be his partner since he is already in a relationship. Whether that would actually do anything is anyone's guess, though. He would definitely beg his partner not to try to fight the weird fans online, too. That was the last thing he would need.

● Ultimately, Ingo just hopes it will pass quickly as an odd but notable trend among his fans. The inspiration from his own clothing choices into theirs makes him a bit curious as to what they would think he would prefer his partner wear, however. Truthfully, he has no real preference. He is happy to let his partner wear whatever they please and enjoys how they express themselves with it.

▽Emmet△

○ Elesa absolutely has to show him it because he lives blissfully unaware of most things. He feels confused upon seeing this “train wife aesthetic” video, with a woman choosing to wear clothing themed among cutesy styles and bright colours. His expression is vacant, with his usual smile still on his lips. This made little sense to him. Were they dressing in styles they thought he would like? He asked Elesa, and she explained to him that it was related to some greater style thing happening in online fashion. Apparently, dressing up like your favourite celebrity trainer's partner was big. He just nodded.

○ He still does not understand for the most part. It was strange to him but ultimately harmless. People dressed up like him and Ingo often enough for him to just shrug it off. The only thing that may upset him was if one of these fans actually claimed to be his partner. That boundary was one thing that he would prefer not to be crossed. He just decided to go back to being unaware and figured it would go away, like most trends do.

○ If it was upsetting his partner, however, Elesa may need to take his phone before he makes a fool of himself. Even more so if it were someone claiming they were his partner online. He hates seeing his darling upset and does not want to allow anything that distresses them to continue! Emmet simply wants to make you happy. Elesa would help his draft a post to explain why people pretending to be his partner online makes him uncomfortable and how he wishes they would stop out of respect for him and his real partner. She had to stop him from threatening to send Joltiks after people doing it since he was so emotionally charged from it.

○ In the end, Emmet does not really like or dislike it, but he does prefer to pretend to know nothing about it. His curiosity about what led to the fashion choices that his fans all seemed to agree upon was his only real thought he gave it. Everything seemed so bright and cutely themed that he did not get it. He knew what he preferred his partner to wear, and it certainly was not anything someone could post online to normal social media sites. He just shrugs again. It was not the first time his fans had misread him, after all.

🎤Piers🌑

✖️ The singer sees it randomly while scrolling social media on his phone and cocks a brow up at it. “Punk Singer's GF Style”? He wants to assume it is someone else, but clearly there are too many elements in the various styles that call back to him. Hot pink, leather, and black and white stripes all dead giveaways. It did not feel anything far away from his recollection of fans making their own homemade dark-type gym uniforms before he started selling them at his concerts. He looks a little more into it and discovers its relation to a bigger trend with dressing like a celebrity trainer's partner. He scoffed at the “Gym Leader-Influencer's GF Fits” he saw.

✖️ He knows better than to acknowledge these things. No need to pour diesel on this when it would be easier to let it pass on its own. Fans do weird things – Piers is more than aware of this. He does feel a bit perturbed by a few audacious ones claiming they were his real partner, but even then, he knew it was better to just ignore it. They wanted attention and nothing more. Better to not feed it.

✖️ If his partner expressed discomfort at the trend, he would be inclined to agree. Especially if it were about the ones claiming to be with him. Piers did not want to force a public relationship with him on you, but if you wanted to do that to try to stop weirdos online, he would be down. 'Course, he is not forcing anyone to do anything. Even if you were clearly uncomfortable by it, he knows better than to bring attention to something. He assures you it will go away, and instead wants to channel your upset into something else. Help him write a song or something. Leave an impact on him in a way others only wish they could.

✖️ Piers does not really like it, ultimately, but he is more than aware of how the internet works. Though, he does find their choices in clothes most fascinating. Seriously? It almost feels strange seeing them in clothing similar to his own or, weirder, one he saw in a dress like Marnie's own. That one made him uncomfortable enough to block them. He does not really dictate what his partner wears at all. That is not his style. Not to say he would not prefer them to have similar tastes to his own, but he would not force that on them.

⚡️Elesa🌟

⭐️ The black-haired woman felt a bit intrigued when she sees something like “Model Gym Leader's GF Chic” on her feed. She enjoys fashion, after all. It was a bit strange seeing people dressing how they thought her partner would, however. All of it seemed yellow or blue and based around some of her previous looks or pokemon. Did they think she wanted to dress up a lover in some of her clothes? Well, maybe a little bit, but casually? Day to day? Not really. Though, she did hate how much she really enjoyed a lot of the styles. It was nice seeing inspiration taken from some of how styles and applied out on others.

⭐️ She would never speak about it openly, fully aware it would just bring more attention to it, but her inner circle and private account followers get to see her favourite styles taken out from the trend. Elesa does not really mind it, finding it mostly to be people online having fun, but she really does not like anyone trying to claim to actually be her partner. That is a boundary she does not like to have overstepped. Of course, she bites her tongue back on saying anything. Like most fads, it will pass and something new will replace it. She will just enjoy the lovely outfits that come out of it for now.

⭐️ Though, her partner expressing distress over it would make her a little less excited about it. Elesa gets what it is for the most part personally, but to you, it must have seemed like people wanting to be with her. Well, there were a lot of those, too. She would try to explain how she views it and hope it calms you down from your emotional high. Your feelings are perfectly understandable, too, of course. Especially if it is about the people claiming to be her partner online. Her best advice is to ignore it and let it fade, giving those people attention is the last thing to do. She is more than happy to remind you that you are who she loves in order to distract you both from it.

⭐️ In the end, Elesa does not mind a majority of the trend and even really likes certain aspects of it. She does, however, find it strange that they think she would like her partner to wear clothing really similar to her own. The model would not oppose that, no, but she really likes to see how they could express themselves individually from her. Their own style tells her a lot about their personality. That is what she loves to see more than anything else.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #piers x reader #elesa x reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon piers x reader #pokemon elesa x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #piers/reader #elesa/reader

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drconstellation · 5 months

Text

Taking Things At Face Value

This post is dedicated to all those Ninas out there, who are "just enjoying the show."

I have been pondering an problem that had come up for a second time in another meta I'm writing (I left it out of an earlier one for clarity) regarding acknowledgement of identity and faces in S2, but when you keep running into the same road-block, you have to tackle it head on. Then I ran into the exact same problem a third time here, and the beginnings of this meta has sat in my drafts file staring at me for several weeks while I've been doing other things. But finally, finally, the answer has come to me, while being kept awake by a passing thunderstorm at 1.30am.

MRS SANDWICH: You're a good lad. CROWLEY: I'm not actually, either. But thank you.

Let's start with this exchange between Crowley and Mrs Sandwich, after Crowley has led all the Whickber St shopkeepers out of the ball to apparent safety. She calls him a "good lad," and he denies it, but thanks her anyway, and gives her a charming smile. We all know Crowley hates being called 'nice' and the last time he did something 'good' he got dragged down to Hell for punishment, so it seems like an odd thing to happen.

But the thing is, while Mrs Sandwich is complimenting his actions, he is responding about his appearance - that is neither 'good' (i.e. he is a demon) or a male human (i.e. he is an supernatural non-gendered entity.)

At this point you might be going "yeah, yeah, we know, we get that! Move along op..." but this matters, as you soon will see. We should also note that neither Crowley or Aziraphale judge Mrs Sandwich for being a brothel madame (how Aziraphale does not know this when her shop is just over the road from his I will never fathom, but there you go) and Crowley is actually quite charming all-round to his parallel character (prostitution and demons going hand-in-hand - er, not literally. But they went out the door as the vanguard arm-in-arm, though.)

The Metatron turning up at the bookshop in person is the next scene on the cards. Firstly, archangel Michael doesn't recognize him, but Saraqael obviously does.

Now, I know I'm guilty of saying that Michael may have had their memory adjusted at some time, but I'm going to suggest something else at this point. Saraqael knows who this is, because they have just had a fresh reminder from watching the recordings of Gabriel with Crowley and Muriel. And Saraqael is a pretty smart angel, so lets give them some leeway on this one. But for Michael, well, they are in the same situation as Aziraphale. They have only seen the Metatron as giant floating head without a body, so don't associate him with this appearance before them, and also because he has a beard.

Just before you jump on me and say "But he had one in the recordings!" yes, yes, I know. Two things, though, I want to bring to your attention: angels are not supposed to have facial hair,* and he doesn't have any in S1 (I checked!) and he also makes the comment "This calls for much less attention, though." Yeah, well a giant head floating through the streets of Soho would be quite a sight, wouldn't it, even though they had already been treated to the view of Gabriel's royal rear-end. Aziraphale had only met him once before, as a giant floating head in S1E4 who had had to introduce himself, so we could surmise this is Michael's problem as well, even though they were at Gabriel's trial. This is backed up by a tumblr ask/answer from NG as well, where he said "I think because they normally see him as a giant floating head, and not as a little man in a raincoat."

MICHAEL: Um, and who are you? METATRON: For Heaven's sake. And I mean that most literally. You don't know me? Well, uh, what about you? Demon? Do you know me?

Demon. That is what the Metatron chooses to call Crowley in that company, and we know in hindsight that he knows Crowley's name - as does Uriel, and Gabriel. Even Muriel learns it. But they don't use it, at least not in S2.

Even more notable is that the archangels don't deign to him give the respect of using his chosen name at all. He's not not even their enemy at this point - he's beneath their notice altogether, even though they are in the same room. Only Aziraphale seems to acknowledge his existence, instinctively trying to reach out to him as he passes by.

To Nina, people are coffee preferences.

To Mrs Sandwich, they are desires that need servicing.

So then question I had, and that stopped me, was why did both Crowley and Gabriel question Beelzebub about their new face?

It stood out to me because you don't normally make an obvious comment about the change of actor for a character, and to do it twice - !! You can't ignore that. No meta writer should ignore that. There is a trope term for this, actually, called "lampshading," which means to intentionally call attention to an incongruent situation within a story before moving on, but in a show where nothing is an accident, this seems a bit trite to me. Eventually I realized that this was the whole crux of the problem to me - that while we all too readily take things at face value, its not the faces that really influence us, its our internal values.

In the case of Beelzebub, Crowley recognizes the demon, their power, and their identity via the flies without any doubt; he merely comments on the change of exterior appearance. In terms of value, he knows straight away he's dealing with someone dangerous, no matter what they look like. Gabriel, on the other hand, is judging the book by its cover, and because he doesn't recognize the new cover, he needs proof of which demon he's dealing with, or maybe if they are even a demon at all.

"Bravo," says Nina, "Just enjoying the show." She's already seen a few that week, not to mention just in the general flow of life as a shop owner involved with customer service. If you've had any sort of life in a customer service role I'm sure you've got a few stories you could tell of things you've seen or experienced as well! I know I can.

The conversation between Nina and Crowley after Aziraphale walks away is amusing for all the assumptions Nina makes about them based on what she's observed that week, but also because Crowley tells the truth every in every reply to Nina, and yet she still has no idea what he's really saying. But her judgements, based on her experience and values, still manage to drop the proverbial ton of bricks on his head so badly he slinks off to sooth himself with some alcohol while he thinks about it instead of catching up with Aziraphale to continue being the angel's nameless shadow.

This problem with judging people on previous experience and not on who they actually are is everywhere in S2.

It's Ennon treating Aziraphale, an angel he's never met before, as a slut.

It's Elspeth judging Aziraphale on his accent.

It's Mrs H. giving a powerful demon a blistering tongue-lashing because she thinks he's a just simple human black marketeer.

It's Crowley refusing to call Gabriel "Jim" because he believes Gabriel is faking it.

...and so on. These are just a few examples. I'm sure you can spot a few more.

Which brings us back around to the meeting of the supernatural Councils in the bookshop in S2E6 and Crowley's "invisibility" to the other angels and demons gathered there. A demon to the archangels, an arch-traitor to the demons, why would they want to acknowledge him? Once he restores Gabriel, he becomes rank-less and faceless to them because they don't need him any more - its basically an act of celestial racism.

Nina and Maggie don't really know any better, they still think Mr Crowley and Mr Fell are just, well, "partners." OK, so maybe they've been doing some weird shit the last few days manipulating things in the neighbourhood but they're still obviously a couple a group of the two of them in their human eyes - and neither do they seem to care that they seem to be mlm, either. No judgement there.

A number of times I've seen ops say they've been watching GO with family members who are seeing it for the first time, and the family member thinks they are just "close friends." Why? Because they haven't seen S2 and the kiss? Because they haven't verbally said "I love you" to each other? Do they really need to say that to prove their feelings for each other? Is that just your values creeping to the fore?

And where did you get your values from?

Sometimes you need to stop and question why you think what you think. I'm not just talking about religious indoctrination. Some expectations put on us by by society at large can be insidious. Expectations around how gender should act, the life purpose of a gender, your worth to society if you don't meet certain unspoken standards, age-related behaviour, social norms around alcohol consumption, the way they dress, what someone eats, the way they eat it, that you must be seen to be productive, or busy...take your pick for whatever is prevalent around you at the moment and for your culture. Just start by noticing, and being aware.

Yes, it is pointless, because demons and angels all come from the same angelic stock. There was a bit of a disagreement at one point and they split into two groups, and judgemental labels got applied to them. They are both still bureaucratic horrors. Which ever side wins the final battle, humans still lose.

Mortal humans all look the same inside, too, if you take their face and skin away and take the societal labels off them. We forget that about ourselves all the time.

There doesn't have to be any wibbly-wobbly timeline stuff going on to explain things. What ever happened to the concept of Occam's Razor? The simplest answer is usually the correct one. And that was what I realized in the middle of the night - the cliche I had used to title this was the answer. It's about being aware of those ingrained, instinctive, judgmental values that you don't realize you've learnt, and looking past the faces that you meet.

*oh lawdy, I'm giving strength to all of you who want to believe he is a demon then, aren't I? But do demons have facial hair either?

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #mrs sandwich #nina and maggie #job minisode #1941 minisode #the resurrectionists #aziraphale #beelzebub #gabriel #taking things at face value #lampshading #value judgements #wibbly wobbly timey wimey #occams razor

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 5 months

Text

Ambush

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Use of Google translate for one scentence.

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, left untouched. I couldnt get past a few things, but it's finally done and passing in my standards 😅 Two more parts are left for the main story and then I'll be posting the 'memory lanes'. As a reminder, please be sure to follow @xxwritemeastoryxxlibrary and turn on notifications so you never miss a fic!

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Phantom Masterlist || MCU Masterlist || Taglist

Tony sighed as he looked over at Steve for a moment before looking back at Bucky. “That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Y/N won't be at either of them.”

“Why wouldn't she be?” Bucky asked with a raised brow.

“Unless this is another false lead, which doesn't seem likely, given how Natasha obtained the information, but Phantom has a new mission she's been tasked with.” When Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, Tony continued. “It's us.”

“What do you mean ‘it's us’?” Steve asked.

“We're in the way.” Both Bucky and Tony said at the same time.

Of all of the scenarios Bucky’s mind had come up with on finding her, this one hadn't come up the most. He knew the chances of her being sent to take them out were high. And now that it was here, he hoped it didn't go to the worst scenario his mind came up with.

“Take out the key players and they have a winning chance.” Tony added.

“Did they say when this is supposed to happen?” Bucky asked.

Bucky knew they needed to be ready. His mind was already going through everything they'd need to safely stop Y/N. He knew it wasn't going to be easy but he was going to make sure everyone would do as needed.

“Don't know.” Tony answered. “We don't know if this will be a hit all three at once situation or attempt to take us out and then get what they need.”

“She could have been given that mission at any time.” Steve looked over at Bucky. “If she's coming, we're going to need a plan and fast.”

“The only way to know for sure is if there were any attempts at getting our information.” Bucky noted. “We'll be able to come up with some kind of timeline we're working with. But I gotta say this now. It's gotta be non lethals only, or me going up against her.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. He was sure if given the right amount of time, several plans could be put into place. The amount of non lethals they had wouldn't run out. “There is the option of Wanda. She could do something to stop her without any harm coming to her.”

Bucky nodded. “We'll have to make sure Wanda is close by at all times.” Both Steve and Tony nodded.

“Now the question is how long do we have to prepare before she drops in. FRIDAY, has there been anything flagged as suspicious activity in any of the systems?”

All three of them looked towards each other for a moment. FRIDAY normally answered seconds after anything was asked. But this time there was silence. A moment later, alarms were going off through the compound.

“I'd say that's suspicious enough.” Tony said before the three of them began running out of the conference room.

On the opposite end of the compound Hydra soldiers continued to spill onto the property. The moment Phantom disabled the security systems, they were making their way in. While the numbers weren't one of a strong army, they currently had a bit of an advantage.

A quinjet flew overhead. One that had been in Hydra’s hold since the fall of SHIELD. Putting it to use today made it almost too easy to get close enough for Phantom to hack into the system and disarm it.

Hovering over the roof of the compound, the ramp lowered. Several soldiers moved towards the end and made their way onto the roof. A moment later, Phantom was making her way towards the ramp.

She wore black tactical gear from head to toe. The hood of her shirt had been up, casting a shadow on her face. A black fabric mask covers the bottom half of her face, adding to the illusion of her not being seen under the hood.

Several tactical belts laid at her hips. Any weapon that would be needed for her was within reach. Straps that holstered guns and blades ran down the sides of her leg ensuring that once the back up bullets ran out, she'd have other weapons to use.

Before she could put one foot on the ramp, a set of commands were thrown into the air. The words caused her to stop in her tracks and wait for either information or one last check.

A soldier came to stand beside her. His attention was on the building just below them. Her temporary handler while on this mission.

“Your mission?” He asked.

“Take out the Avengers.” She responded instantly.

“The priority?”

“The traitor to Hydra.” Phantom hadn't moved or looked his way. “He's problematic to the mission. He feeds information to the Avengers. His death means Hydra can do as it needs to.”

“Stark and Wilson are already working the perimeter.” Steve said as the group made their way towards the main floor. “We'll meet them in the middle. Take any you can for interrogating. If you see Y/N, non lethals only or call for Bucky. Anyone see Maximoff?”

“Good. Ensure this mission is successful.” He nodded his head towards the opening. “Don't return until it is. Preferably with his head.” Without any acknowledgement, Phantom was making her way down the ramp.

“We're down two. Her and Vision had plans.” Natasha added as she tightened the widow bites around her wrists. “Already sent a message to them and they're on their way.”

“Keep your eyes scanning.” Bucky noted as they reached the end of the hall before the main floor door. “She can come out from anywhere. If she's got all the information she needs-”

A hunter's knife blew past them before embedding itself in the door in front of them. The way the knife hit the door was a way to keep it from opening. A strategic move to keep someone from leaving.

For a brief moment as Bucky’s eyes landed on the embedded knife, a quick flash of a memory played through his mind. One where he was throwing the blade to keep Y/N from leaving. And now he was on the receiving end of it.

“No need to go looking for her.” Clint stated the obvious as they turned to look down the path they came from. “She found us.”

In the dimly lit halls, the four of them found the silhouette of Phantom. Her face couldn't be seen from their position. And from what they could see, her hands rested at her side, almost as if she was waiting. Waiting for one of them to make their move.

Bucky moved himself from his current position in the back to stand in front of the others. “Get going. I've got her.”

There was a part of him that was relieved at seeing her. He hadn't physically seen her in two years and now she was standing in front of him. The other part knew this wasn't going to be the reunion he thought about for the past several months. At this very moment, she wasn't the woman he knew. She was an asset that was sent on a mission and wasn't going to stop until it was done.

“She won't hold back.” Natasha voiced his thoughts.

“And I won't stop until I get through to her.” Bucky added.

A heavy feeling of deja vu was played on the group. They had been here once before, under different circumstances. If history was repeating itself, at least they knew the outcome would be in their favor.

“If you need us…” Steve trailed off as he motioned for the other to began making their way down the adjacent hallway. He only received a nod from Bucky before he was following closely behind.

When Bucky took one step forward, he watched her carefully. He watched for any of her movements that she'd make. He still couldn't see her face but he knew she was watching him like a hawk.

“We don't have to do this.” His voice was loud and clear.

He took several more steps closer to her but she remained still, just watching him. When he came to a stop a few steps away from her, her eyes finally became clear within the darkness that surrounded her face. It was as he took in her eyes, the eyes he once believed that he could get lost in them, he was met with a cold and empty look.

Her mind registered different things about the man before her. His appearance was familiar to her from the several files she had read through the night before. Everything within the file had been accurate. The only difference was that his hair was several inches longer now than it was in the surveillance photos.

The gun that he carried was down by his side, hanging from the strap on his shoulder. His posture was calm, as if he wasn't currently going up against someone who could take his life.

But there was something about his eyes. How they moved over her the moment he was close enough to really examine her. The way there was concern in his eyes the whole time he walked towards her. It set off something within her she didn't understand.

“‘This’ only ends one way.” Her voice was almost monotonous. The moment the words left her lips, she was unsheathing two of the combat knives at her hips and advancing forward.

Even with it being longer than two years since the last time he had any training with her, he knew every movement she made before she had. Every strike she attempted he was blocking it. Even when she attempted to use the gun at his side, he had it out of her hands and the gun thrown down the hall.

Her tactics hadn't changed. There were slight differences but a majority of it was the same. And for a brief moment it hadn't been them standing in a hall with her attempting to kill him. They were in the gym with a sparring session. It's why he couldn't stop the words from leaving his lips.

“You're going to have to do better than that.” It was followed by a chuckle.

The response had been a lift of her eyebrow before she manuevored herself to connect her elbow to his face, hard. Based on his stance stumbling slightly, the man before her hadn't been expecting it. She almost smirked as it gave her the opportunity to sweep her legs, knocking him down.

I can't show you all my moves, then you wouldn't spar with me.

Her own voice echoed within her brain that caused her to hesitate. A response to his remark that she hadn’t even thought about responding to. Yet the echo of her own voice told her that would have been the response.

Bucky noticed the slight hesitation as he moved to get up off the ground. The shift in her eyes reminded him of his own moments when Steve was trying to break through to him. He knew he officially had one foot in the door.

“You know me.” He tried, hoping to push further.

He watched as she shook whatever was happening in her mind off before sending the blade in her hand his way. Bucky caught it by the hilt before tossing it off to the side.

“You are the Mission.” She responded. A moment later Bucky was blocking more of her advances. Including one that almost had the blade of the second knife embedded in his thigh. “That's how I know you.”

The words had stung Bucky’s heart as he managed to pull the blade out of her grasp and throw it, with the blade embedding itself into the wall. It was strange to be on this end of things. To be the one fighting to get through to someone within Hydra’s hold. He just needed to break her free from it.

It didn't take long for Bucky to find himself in a favorable hold with her. One that he knew he could easily get her pinned on the ground. And with one more maneuver he had her on her back, with him following her.

When her back hit the ground, a strange fuzzy memory quickly passed her mind. One where the man before her had a smirk on his face instead of the serious look he had now as he looked at her. The sound of a giggle echoed in her ears before the memory completely faded.

Out of instinct, she was able to manipulate the hold he currently had on her, forcing him on to his back. A blade she had attached to her hip was released from its sheath and brought up to his neck. It had been too easy to draw the first drop of blood from his body flinching against the pressure.

He raised his hands up by his head, practically surrendering to her. “I'm not going to continue to fight you. ”

She watched as his eyes met hers and never looked away. There was something in his eyes she hadn't believed she had seen before. She watched many with fear in their eyes before they began pleading for their lives. He didn't have the same look in his eyes.

There was understanding and acceptance. For a man that hardly fought her back during the last several minutes, it made her curious as to why he hadn't tried running like the others had. Or at least attempted to use his arm in defense.

She had been expecting it. She had read the information before coming. She knew the man used it to his advantage in combat. So why not with her? It had been almost too easy to have him pinned as he was now.

Her head tilted slightly as she studied him. The blade against his neck never loosened as she did. Deep within her, in a way she didn't understand, there was now a feeling of familiarity. But how could someone she did not recognize hold such familiarity.

Bucky noticed the way she was hesitating. He should have taken that opportunity to get himself out of his current position, but he was watching her reactions.

He knew from experience what could possibly be happening within her mind. He knew there was a possibility that something was coming over her that she couldn't explain. He knew that the woman deep within the asset was attempting to break through the surface.

"Do you know who this is?”

A picture was held in front of her, and all she could focus on was the man's eyes. The same one that was currently pinned down to the ground beneath her. The sadness that was in those eyes. An ache in her chest when she couldn't remember his name, but she knew him intimately.

“Now you know me.” He said softly. His eyes still never left hers. Even as her eyes flicked back to his, he couldn’t bring himself to move. “You can't place it, but you feel it.” He slowly brought his fleshed hand up to her wrist. He gauged her reaction as he did, but she didn't move to stop him. “That's what's stopping you.”

His fingers moved in a pattern against her skin that his mind had once created one night while spending time with her. The very pattern he continued to do any time he was feeling overwhelmed in any way. His signal to her he needed an out from wherever they were at.

Bucky watched as she didn't flinch away from his touch. It was as if she was just watching his movements, taking in the familiarity of something unlocking within her brain. As she did, he noticed another shift in her eyes. He was getting through to her.

He just needed something else to help break through to her. To help give that final break through the wall. But a moment later he could hear the sound of someone speaking to her through her coms.

The shift in her eyes disappeared and she was twisting his hand away from hers as the blade of the knife pressed deeper into his skin. All she had to do was slice and it'd be over. Her mission would be complete.

“Ty zakonchil zdes’, Fantom.” You're done here, Phantom. The words had quickly left Bucky’s lips in one breath.

He watched as she paused once more. He knew her programming was working its way through her. Her mind was trying to take in what the word meant. The blade against his skin eased up slightly.

A part of her mind was screaming at her to stop and stand at attention to wait for the next command. That the punishment would be worse if she didn't obey. And for a brief moment her weight lifted off of him slightly. But the other part of her mind didn't register the command. In all the new conditioning she had over the last several months, that command didn't exist.

There was no new command to stop. There wasn't a punishment waiting for her if she didn't respond to the command given. The main goal that was embedded this time around: complete the mission.

When Bucky saw her grip tightened on the hilt, he knew it didn't work. He knew that whatever command he'd throw at her, there would be a possibility of it no longer working. He was out of options.

When the blade of the knife began sliding across his skin, Bucky grabbed a hold of her wrist with his vibranium hand, halting her movements and pulling her hand away. He adjusted himself to flip her back on to her back as she continued to fight to free herself from his hold.

With a hard hit of her knee, she had him flipped off of her and she rushed to stand. In the process, she pulled the hand gun strapped to her ankle out and aimed. Her finger pulled at the trigger easily.

Bucky barely had a moment to steady himself before he was blocking bullets with vibranium. He moved closer to her with each pull of the trigger. Counting each until he knew for sure the clip would be empty. Before the final count, he noticed that she stopped.

If he hadn't looked up at her eyes, he would have missed the way her eyes suddenly flashed red before returning to their normal color. He watched as the gun dropped to her side as something changed within her. Fear filled her eyes where there was emptiness moments ago.

He watched as her eyes flicked to him before her eyes welled up, causing a tear to fall down her cheek. He could see that the wall he was trying to break through earlier had finally broken. In the next moment, Bucky was taking a few steps closer as she fainted forward. He caught her easily, pulling her up into his arms.

“Thank you.” Bucky said as he looked over at Wanda the moment he had a hold of Y/N.

It was easy enough for Wanda to work her way up behind Y/N. Her target had been keeping her busy and it had been easy for Wanda to give a small hand wave and Y/N was sent into the spell.

Bucky gently brought her over to a padded bench against the wall and laid her down. His fleshed hand gently pulled down the fabric away from her face. It was a way to free her from Phantom. To separate the two entities as best as he could for her. It wasn't long after that he was pulling the coms out of her ear and crushing it within vibranium.

“I came as fast as I could.” Wanda said as she moved closer. “Though if I had come sooner you wouldn't have been shot.” She pointed towards Bucky’s right arm.

Bucky looked down at his arm. His shirt had blood seeping through the fabric. He had been so focused on Y/N that his mind didn't register the fresh wound. From the looks of things, the bullet had grazed him.

“It's superficial. I'll be fine.” He nodded.

“And your neck?” She asked as her eyes began scanning for any possible threat.

“Occupational hazard.” He shrugged slightly as he brushed his fingers along Y/N’s cheek. “I almost got through to her. But she got pulled back in.” He looked over to Wanda. “What did you make her see?”

“Exactly what you might think I showed her.” She began. “Though what she is actually seeing, I'm not sure.”

Bucky knew Wanda meant fears. He saw the look on Y/N's face before she passed out. He knew that if anything fear would be the thing to break through to her. That maybe once she'd wake up, the mind block would be gone.

Bucky, what's your status?

Steve's voice came over the coms. Bucky ’s hand went up to his coms as he looked over at Wanda. “We're clear. She's secured. “

The words almost made him cringe. He should have said she was safe. He should have said things were cleared there. He could have said a million other things, but out of habit he said what he did.

Perimeter is clear. We're working our way in. Sam's voice came over the coms next. Stark got FRIDAY back up.

The East Wing is cleared. Natasha added.

Conversations continued through the coms but Bucky was barely listening. His attention was still on Y/N and he was sure it would stay that way for quite some time.

She may have been unconscious but he could see the movement beneath her eyelids. He wondered what fears she was living through at that moment. What details she was reliving or what story her mind formed as the worst thing she could ever face.

“The med bay may be more comfortable for her.” Wanda offered. The three of them were still in the walkway. Wanda knew that once the team had full control of the compound, a lot of people were going to be making their way through that walkway.

“It can't be the med bay.” Bucky shook his head slightly before he moved to lift her up into his arms. The possibility of Y/N waking up in the med bay and taking it out on the medical staff wasn't something they needed. She wouldn't know where she was let alone what they could possibly be doing to her. “I'll get her set up in one of the spare rooms for now. She'll need space.”

As he began walking towards the living quarters, he felt the shift in her body. The tension she had from the spell began to ease up. Relaxing into his hold a little more with each passing second.

“You're safe.” He promised her. “I'm never going to let you out of my sight.”

If he hadn't been holding her as he was, Bucky was sure he would have missed it. It had been soft as if she was sighing. And part of him deeply hoped he hadn't been just hearing things.

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liashinigami · 7 months

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Was gonna gather my thoughts and write a post tmr on the general mood in the ofts space after the finale bc I feel like a whole bunch of people overthink the amount of editing that was supposedly the result of "promo couple fans complaining too much" but I literally cannot sleep before I get this off my chest so here goes nothing:

Do you guys not understand how tv show productions work....

The script was written, reworked, and then finalized before they even began filming. Yes they might have changed some stuff between the initial scrips draft they had before the mock trailer and the true beginning of production this year but considering that they booked two at the time new but well received promo couples (remember that this show was already in planning at a time when Enchené and The Eclipse were still very very fresh), TopMew and SandRay were always gonna be endgame. It's especially obvious now that the full series is out bc if you go back and watch the mock trailer, all the same storybeats are there. This is how the story was supposed to go from the beginning. They most likely cast two promo couples on purpose because of the added bonus of pre-established compatibility and chemistry needed for endgame couples in such a messy series.

Then they filmed stuff. They finished filming I believe the day that episode 3 aired, so they could not have changed any of the ending based on audience reactions (as I have seen multiple people suggest), since we were barely a few epiaodes into the story. The book based on the series was also already finished and in the last stages of preparing to be released. The only thing they actually did was edit out parts of scenes or full scenes that they found did not add anything at this point in the story (like the sandray garage scene) or would actively harm what we, the audience, are supposed to be understanding and feeling right now (like the Mew smashing shit scene and Top attempting to sleep with someone else, which both were explained to have been cut because audiences were reacting strongly negative to Top even a few episodes into his redemption arc, when we were clearly supposed to start being on his side). They might also have moved some scenes around to aid the story flow but I am unsure of that one (I suspect the scene where Ray and Mew finally solve their shit out was supposed to be directly before the SandRay donut scene bc of obvious clothing reasons, bc they either fucked up hardcore with clothing continuity or moved the first SandRay rehab discussion to after the RayMew talk because it made more sense that way when seeing it played out on screen. If that was the case I am glad for it bc it would have felt a bit weird the other way around idk...).

All of this is however not new. It happens all the time in film and broadcasting production (also in book publishing....this is why editors and alpha/beta readers exist. I mean Brandon Sanderson's books famously go through four (?) stages of feedback before they get published...). Some scenes just get dropped in editing because when you see it on screen it feels redundant or not quite right, so it gets taken out before it changes what they want the audience to take away from other scenes. Movies and tv shows that have months between filming and airing dates usually solve this issue with test screening audiences and several runs of editing. There have been instances of Movies having test screenings at cinemas and then having their release date scrapped because they have to be re-edited completely as a result of unexpected audience feedback. GmmTV series being on smaller budgets and timeframes results in this time window falling away and relying on observing audience reactions to already aired episodes closely and then editing the next episode close to its release is one strategy to still ensure that you bring across what you wanted to (Kdramas also do this very frequently). It might not be ideal but it's not unusual and it certainly does not mean that anything substantial from the story was changed. All the storybeats as well as the character and relationship development remained the same because they already had everything filmed. They did not do reshoots or we'd know it. The story was planned this way. It was in the script. If you did not like it, then you did not like it. But don't accuse the directors of "bending to the will of fans" bc that's just plain wrong.

I too have my issues with some of the writing and some of the characterizations. But let's keep the criticism where it is actually deserved ok?

Edit: I have also seen quite a few people over here and also on Twitter say how disappointed they are in the "editing based on audience reaction" and that they should release a "directors cut" with all the scenes but like....this IS the directors cut. THEY decided how to edit this because the original intent is not always what arrives in the brains of the audience. Storytelling is a two-way street and if a massive chunk of your audience interprets a part of your story so differently to how you intended it to be understood, edits are necessary. Because that means that your intent is not communicated well enough.

#only friends #ofts #only friends the series #I said pretty much the same things a few weeks back added onto someone else's post a few weeks back #back when that interview with jojo and ninew came out where they first said they look at audience reaction before they edit the next ep #I thought we got past that but apparently not #apparently people need to justify their own frustrations towards the writing and the storyline in weird ways #blame it on 'couple fans'#completely ignoring that realistically most people who got interested in this show found it through the mock trailer release #way back when the eclipse had barely finished airing and enchenté was also only a few months out #heck I hadn't even watched those two shows when the mock trailer came out and I went insane #haven't watched any other forcebook show to this day and while I liked the eclipse I certainly wouldn't have called myself a firstkhao stan #and still it was obvious to me from the mock trailer way back when and then the proper trailer a few months ago who would end up with who #I just feel like a lot of y'all were anticipating a different show than what it was advertising itself as...

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twig-tea · 7 months

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Let's Talk about Cheum

I've had multiple Cheum posts in my drafts since at least episode 6, and the main reason why I haven't posted them is because I keep waiting for the show to give me more. There have been some great posts reflecting on her character this week, so I thought I'd give it a try anyway right before the finale this weekend.

@waitmyturtles laid out her thoughts on Cheum here and this was followed up on with some excellent context by @ctl-yuejie re: the split in the audience around their reception of Cheum.

@my-rose-tinted-glasses tied the way that folks seem to want to iterpret Cheum's character to the trailer, which was an interesting take I hadn't considered! I like it.

I've been pushing back on Cheum being the voice of the audience or the only character who has it together for the entire time we've been watching this show [one of the places I've done this most explicitly was in my scene-by-scene breakdown of ep6]. Nothing in the actual show, to me, encourages us to see Cheum as the one who 'has it together'. She gets sloppy drunk out of the gate in ep1; she's rude, she's catty, she seems like a party girl. She's kind of mean about her girlfriend's films behind her back, she constantly insults Boston, Ray, and Mew in subtle ways, she supports Top as a "good candidate" for Mew even when we all in the audience know that he's a player, and even after she knows he betrayed Mew's trust (we can debate over whether it was "cheating", this is how Mew saw it and how Top knew he would see it); she says she's tried to help Ray in the past but we only see her enable Ray's alcoholism--in other words, I have been baffled this entire time why anyone would see her character as the voice we're supposed to trust as a reliable narrator or moral voice of the show, when the audience has enough information to know she's very often wrong. I said after episode 10, in which Cheum accused Boston of assaulting her brother despite her knowledge of Boston's character and the fact that the photos did not support Atom's story, and with the audience knowing she's in the wrong, that I was so thankful this would have to be the nail in the coffin of the theory that Cheum is supposed to be the "voice of the audience" or the "correct" one in the show, and I am aghast that this still seems not to be the case.

In my post about Cheum after ep 10, I said:

When Cheum realizes that Atom lied, though, if she just shrugs it off the way she did Top sleeping with Boston or Ray bringing drugs to the hostel...my rage will be fierce. Part of unconditional belief is holding your sibling to account if they abuse that trust.

But of course I wrote that because I suspected she would, because that's how her character's been to date. So my own previous post is evidence that Cheum has actually been legibly and predictably written, at least to an extent.

And while I like @my-rose-tinted-glasses' theory that maybe folks are being influenced by their memory of the trailer (in their post linked above), I also suspect that a lot of that comes from the audience bringing their sexism to their viewing experience, and assuming that a female character has to be The Voice of Morality if they are not an Evil Seductress, and cannot simply be as messy and nuanced as the other characters. And also maybe from the assumption that SOMEone in this show must be right, when I think that's a faulty assumption to make.

To be fair to the audience, a lot of what's going on with her is subtle, because the show to date has not often explicitly called her out on her bullshit. I remember being so happy to get the confirmation that she knew Ray was in love with Mew this whole time (during the big blow-up at Yolo bar) for example, because it confirmed what I had thought: that she was not oblivious, she intentionally was not acknowledging the tension between them in order to keep harmony within the group. But I would not necessarily expect everyone watching to put that together, especially not as a reveal in the middle of that dramatic scene where so much else was going on.

Cheum is, like @wen-kexing-apologist said in the fantastic post about hypocrisy, just as young as her friends, and just as flawed. She's a bit of a nag, a bit of a party girl, a bit of a people-pleaser, and a bit of a selfish 20something. But so many viewers are refusing to see her that way, and I don't think that's all on the show. And none of this makes me hate her. She's actually the character I relate to most (I know I said I'd be mad at her for not holding Atom to account, and I am, but I don't hate her for it).

Knowing to pay more attention to the rudeness of her language has helped me with this too, because I was looking for a lovable personality trait, and I think @ctl-yuejie's point (linked above) is a great theory as to what's missing for the English-speaking audience. The difference between an asshole character I hate and an asshole character I love is often (a) intention and (b) eschewing social/societal expectations (as opposed to being an asshole in order to meet societal expectations). I don't think we are given enough about Cheum to tell much of the former (though she says she cares, and I do believe her to some extent, I just think she's also blind to how selfish she often is); but knowing she has been doing the latter helps me connect with her in ways I may have been struggling to before.

That being said, as I hinted at above, I do still agree with a lot of what folks have been saying, in that I think she has been under-written, because what I don't have for Cheum (in the same way that I don't have this for Top) is any sense of what motivates her, whether she really does love her girlfriend or she's just riding out the relationship she's in, how much work she's actually doing at the hostel (we see her work the party, but otherwise it's just implied that she's the one doing all the work on the ground, but we never get to see it and in a show full of unreliable narrators, it's hard to know what's true); and how much she really cares about these friends of hers, since most of what we see is her saying she's a good friend but not actually doing things that a good friend would do (or doing things a good friend would not do, like inviting the ex you're still mad at to the party, or yelling at her friend as he's being arrested, or listening to his explanation after he's been accused of a crime). We don't even really know why she wanted the hostel project to be a thing to begin with, or why she cares enough to keep working on it.

I'd like to give the show the benefit of the doubt and say that could be intentional; Cheum is a bit of a fringe member of the group; she doesn't hang out with them with her girlfriend that often, so she's not always around, and she's clearly not best friends with any of the three others. She's who people go to in order to vent and decompress after something happens, and so most of the time we see her, she's helping someone else process their emotions, usually with an eye to reconciliation--though again, the advice she gives is often not good lol. She gets the most mad when someone does something that disrupts the harmony of the group, which is one of the reasons why I read her as the peacekeeper in the group, or the "link" as her name means in Thai I think, that holds them together. Ironically it's her who severs the group in the way that's most permanent to date, by kicking Boston out of the project. But if this is what they were doing with her character, keeping her as the solder rather than a member of the chain (apologies for this belaboured metaphor), I don't know that it was successful; as always gotta wait to the end to be sure.

In the final episode, I would love to get a peek into the core of who Cheum is, or alternatively, Cheum herself saying she feels lost and unsure of who she is. I would also love for someone to point out Cheum's bullshit to her face so that more people understand that what she says is not the moral backbone of the show, though I'm trying to let go of that part of me that wants everyone to get it with this show because I know that's just not possible (and thanks to all of the excellent previous conversations we've had around that). It would be an exciting reversal, and very in character, if Cheum makes Atom's lie and her subsequent banishment of Boston all about her, and then someone calls her on that, for example. And I'd also like more Cheum and April together on screen because they are very aesthetically pleasing and I am a simple creature.

Also just to say, I am hesitant to chalk up Cheum's character having gaps as a 'men writing women' situation because Yo is given the grace to be a full character in fewer scenes than Cheum; also Top as a character suffers from the same problem. So I think this is uneven writing, rather than sexist writing. But I'm open to debating it (and it's not something that we'll ever necessarily know for sure).

#only friends the series #only friends meta #only friends #ofts meta #ofts #long post #I feel like I know who Cheum is because I relate to her #but how much of that is what I'm bringing to the show vs what the show is actually offering?#this is the same question I had about Top #and the fact that I'm not certain about either of them is I think evidence that the writing is lacking for these two characters

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dramaticweathergirl · 3 months

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This is a draft for the gen z! Yuu fic that I was thinking of writing back then. Here's the draft of it instead of letting it rot im my laptop lol. Enjoy...?

----

Yuu swear that whatever the fuck is happening to them right now, is a punishment from god because...What the actual fuck?

"influencer pranks these days are getting out of hand" They mutter to themself, mentally done at whatever bullshit is happening right now.

Yuu's in a box. Not just any box though, it's a coffin, they're trapped in a god-damned coffin. Today was supposed to be a normal Tuesday, Yuu wakes up, eat breakfast and go to school. But instead, what happen was their sleep-deprived ass got snatched up in the middle of the streets by an emo carriage.

Yuu was kidnapped by an emo carriage and is now trapped in a coffin.

Gee, they wonder if that even is a considerable reason for them to miss the Calculus exam that was supposed to take place today. Ah, fuck it, Jason's grandma "died" literally like five times last school year and still graduated. Who's to say Yuu won't?

"Hello?? Uh, I know this shitty type of content is what getting y'all cash nowadays but what the fuck? please let me out, I promise I won't sue y'all or create a call-out post on Twitte-I mean X! X!"

"..."

"hello?"

"..."

"Fuck it, I'll just kick the door down"

---

Dire Crowley, the esteemed headmaster of Night Raven College, is in a wild and confusing predicament right now. Somehow, a month before even the new school year officially began, A student somehow arrived in of the coffins.

In all of his years being the headmaster, such thing had never happened. Great sevens, this situation had never once even crossed his mind as a potential problem! Did the Ebony carriage have a problem? Perhaps even the mirror itself? But both of that would be impossible!

"goodness gracious, where is that child" he muttered to himself, a hint of worry lacing his voice.

Dire Crowley was just finishing his stack of paperwork when a distressed and confused ghost school keeper barged into his office informing him that one of the coffins received a student. The headmaster rushed to the scene right away only to find a busted coffin and a missing "student".

This all leads to him, along with squad of ghosts, scurrying along the school grounds to find the wayward child.

"Headmaster! I found them!" Bobby, one of the ghost staff that manages the cafeteria, shouted with glee and relief "they're at the top floor of west wing's tower!"

He hurriedly rushed (again) to the scene and found the teen in a complete daze, their eyes focused on the ocean's horizon. Crowley cleared his throat and the supposed student immediately snapped their attention on him.

"The island view is breathtaking, correct?" Crowley began, trying to ease them "it's one of the boasting qualities of N-"

"..island...stein.." they mumbled something but Crowley only manages to make out a few words.

"par–"

"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME I'M TRAFFICKED TO AN EIPSTEIN ISLAND-TYPE OF SHIT"

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst yuu au #miscellaneous stuff #twisted wonderland x mc #gen z! yuu #twst au #twisted wonderland headcanons

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tyriq-edits · 3 months

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In the Plain of Nysa (Trigun Greek Mythology AU)

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Priest of the Twins' Cult

Lives pretty much in the Sanctuary of Nysa by himself but gets occasionally visited by other Members of the Cult, his younger brother Livio or people in need of the Twin Gods' Blessings.

A (Kinda?) normal Priest living in his tiny Sanctuary offside from Civilisation on a small Island in the Aegean sea called Nysa.

His Duties for the most Part consist of Prayers and Sacrifices for the Gods And keeping the Temple and Statue of the Twins clean and occasionally doing a Ritual on thr Request of the odd Visitor.

Did not expect one of the Gods he is serving to be dropped off at his Temple by the goddess Meryl and her Satyr companion Roberto and to be stuck Body-Guarding said God but oh well here he is.

May Or May Not Regret Giving Vash That Short Chiton.

For more Information/lore about this AU just look at the in the plain of Nysa tag on my page or just send me an ask in my inbox.

Also shout out to my best pal Stephan for teaching me how to draw.

Additional Ramblings about the lore and WW’s design under the cut

This is btw what a Penennular Fibula looked like and I only now noticed that WW is wearing it wrong in my drawing 🥲 The needle is supposed to rest on the Bow of the brooch and not in the opening in the middle.

Also this Fanfic takes place approximately around the time of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE), however Penennular Fibula were primarily worn by either Celts and Romans. So as you can tell while I am trying my best with historical research and keeping things somewhat historically accurate, there are still creative liberties being taken for this AU.

As for why this AU and Wolfwood‘s Sanctuary are called "in the Plain of Nysa“: It‘s actually a reference to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, aka the most complete version of the Myth of Hades and Persephone we have. In this Hymn it says

In other words it was "in the Plain of Nysa“ in which Persephone was kidnapped by Hades. On a fun note, Nysa is actually not a real place anywhere in Greece. It was instead meant to symbolise "a place far away“ the same way we tend to say "in a kingdom far away“ when starting to tell a fairytale. However that did not stop some Ancient Greeks from guessing where Nysa might be located. Some thus point it to be situated somewhere in Macedon or today‘s Balkans, others claimed it was around the area of the Black Sea or…. That Nysa was on the Island Naxos. Which is why in early drafts the Sanctuary was meant to be located on Naxos itself but as I have never been to Naxos in my life it felt disrespectful to the actual people who live there so I just changed it to the Sanctuary of Nysa being on a lone non-existent Island near Naxos instead.

On a smaller note Nysa was also said to have been the Birthplace of Dionysos, with his name meaning "God of Nysa“. In other Stories however Nysa was the name of a mountain on which Dionysus had started his cult.

I am also taking some creative liberties with how Priesthood functioned in ancient Greece. Unlike how it works in Catholicism and other religions, Priests in ancient Greece were not a separate social class. Heck apart from a few Cults and sanctuaries, being a priest was not even seen as a main occupation of job for that reason. And a priest usually wasn‘t chosen by some council, but in many cases you just paid a certain amount of money to become a priest. They did not even have an official attire like catholic or shinto priests do nowadays. However they were still expected to dress somewhat formally compared to WW‘s Exomis, which is basically the ancient greek equivalent of a priest showing up in shorts, flip flops and an old Tshirt.

The Twins Cult in this AU is by the way HEAVILY based on the Eleusinian Mysteries, aka the Mystery Cult dedicated to Demeter and Persephone. I will some day make a post dedicated to them and priesthood in ancient Greece as a whole.

And yes I still fucking hate drawing feet and shoes.

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nailtagyuri · 11 months

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Just Not's Burger King Bonanza

fics done! ao3 is cyberbullying me specifically so im posting it under cut until they reopen account registrations ^_^ [EDIT THEY DID YOU CAN CHECK IT OUT HERE GO GO GO!!] thanks to @/klonoadoortophantomile for reading the initial drafts!

If you need something here tagged as a trigger warning, please contact me via ask! This fic contains depictions of real life political figures, occasional graphic violence, and YURI!!! *thunder clap*

Morning descended upon the bathrooms-turned-hotel where TPOT was once held. The sun shone over the horizon and its light crept through the dust-covered windows, into the already noisy cafeteria smack-bang at the bottom of the tall building. Even if Two's "mandatory mealtimes" had ended along with the gameshow itself, the cafeteria still flourished as a regular gathering area for social interaction, at least to those who could manage a consistent sleep schedule.

Price Tag spotted their designated black and yellow table, where they always sat along with the rest of team-turned-friend group Just Not. They walked up to it, quietly asking Cake if he could move so they could take the window seat. He obliged. He knew Taggy liked absorbing the sunlight.

They :]'d comfortably as they eyed their companions. Book, Nickel, Cake and Bomby were eating with them this morning. Naily was still in bed and Pillow was probably also asleep, what with the obvious. They were glad the two had more time to rest than when they had things to wake up for, but a part of them missed the way Naily would sleepily stumble towards their table each morning, mumbling sweet incomprehensibles as she shuffled next to them and lazily rested on their "shoulder". Oh, how she struggled to stay awake in the brief moment before she guzzled down her dangerously acidic energy drink and shot straight up, bright and alert. But enough about her. They could talk to her later.

"So," Taggy perked, "What's been up with all of you?" "Crunklybrunkly zooper dooper," Nickel groaned, "don't even get me STARTED on this horrid excuse for a foodish substance." Price Tag saw Two cover their mouth with their paws from the other side of the room. They seemed extremely hurt. Nobody audibly got Nickel started but he kept complaining anyway. "Like, what's it supposed to be, melted yoylemetal?" He poked his dish, a gray, gelatinous, rectangular blob. It jiggled against his fork.

"I'd say it's Tofu," Book proposed as she took a bite of her salad. "Black bean. It's a bit gray, though. You should try it, anyway, if you want." "They don't call it gray bean, Book." Nickel rolled his eyes, sarcastically. Cake slid in. "You feeling alright, Nickel? You're not usually this grumpy." "WRONG ONE!?" Shouted Bomby, who gripped his head with his hands in sudden fright. "No, no, I'm not an impostor, I swear!" Nickel replied. "Ugh, sorry everyone. Just I wish the stuff we ate was… fine-er. The food Two makes is kinda mid."

"THE FOOD I MAKE FOR FREE, NICKEL?!" Two boomed from next to him. Nickel fell back in his seat, startled. His foot slammed his plate, launching the substance high into the air and directly onto his face. Everyone stopped for a moment to process what had happened. "Oh golly!" Book cried. "Your tofu…" "Uhh, ground sevruga, actually," Two corrected, raising their finger up nerdishly. "Only five spoons of one of the most expensive kinds of caviar on the market, condensed into a chunky rectangular delight and nuked in a microwave for 62 seconds. Better learn to eat it up, Nickel, the black sea can't provide these delicious tastes forever!" They walked away, smugly.

There was a brief silence, aside from Nickel's slurping. Taggy raised an eyebrow, astounded that a simple 'hello' could lead to such malarkey. "The heck did any of that mean?" They exclaimed. "Any of what mean?" Naily perked her lips to imitate Taggy's ,':{ as she walked up to the table. Upon seeing her, Price Tag's confused expression quickly morphed into a joyous :3. They felt their string begin to wag in excitement. It unconsciously thumped against the empty spot next to them repeatedly as if to gesture where she should sit.

Naily saw this and laughed. "Oh wow, so many choices," she teased. "I can barely decide." She crouched down before launching herself into a frontflip, barreling over the table and stabbing clean into her designated spot. "Nailed it!" She shouted, triumphantly. The rest at the table clapped. She pulled herself out and quickly grabbed her meal the others had been saving for her, unwrapping it hungrily and biting into it without thinking to take off the pickles. It was a cheeseburger, its buns dyed such an eye-burning tone of hot pink Taggy wondered how they hadn't lost sight just looking at it. Naily called it the 'Girlburger'. "But really," Naily asked as she took another bite, "what's going on, buddy? I heard someone scream from upstairs."

They turned to her slightly and explained what had happened. "I don't even know what cabby car is!" Nickel exclaimed through his loaf. "Hmm…" Naily put a paw on her chin thoughtfully, taking in all the information. "I think…" she spoke in a hushed tone, widening her eyes. The others moved in. "it's from the viewers' world."

Everyone gasped. Nobody among them had eaten food from, let alone seen the viewers' world in person before. Only Teardrop had gone when she was sent for a challenge, and they were extremely hesitant to discuss her findings. "That's nonsense!" Book cried. "Sorry, I mean… Naily, Two's a really thoughtful host, but are you sure they'd venture out to such uncharted lands just to make breakfast for Nickel, of all people?" Naily shrugged. "Yeah." "It'd make sense," Taggy chimed in. "They still have some of their limitless power, right? If they used it to easily come here from their home planet, maybe they could easily go from here to the viewers' world."

"Yeah!" Supported Cake. "Maybe they just like to travel, and that was, like, a souvenir." Nickel sat up. "Why don't we go there?" He asked, casually. "Y'know, see more food like this. It'd be a nice change of pace from all the Dragons and Dragons and Dragons campaigns." "You mean you liked it?" Asked Book. "Oh no, it was disgusting." He replied. "I just want more of it." "Oh. Well, that's a bit of a strange mentality- wha, wait a minute! We can't go! Are you insane?! We don't know what's out there!" She grabbed Nickel out of fear. "Well if Two can make it back in one piece," grinned Naily as she stood on the table, "then so can we, the 7th greatest team this side of Goiky! And I think I know just the guy who can help us…"

"I can't help you." Said Winner, dryly. "L." Shouted Price Tag, making a >:L. Naily grew upset. "But Winner, you're the only one with limitless power who isn't mad at us!" She pleaded. "Dontcha have a heart?" Winner frowned, slightly. She was right. Winner, after defeating Marker in a rather anti-climatic boxing match, had prophetically won the Power of Two and subsequently the grand prize. Being carried episode after episode through their loyal voterbase was a kind gesture, they knew that. If everyone was that nice, surely they'd be nice enough to not instantly kill a whole team with a woodchipper, right?

The thought of woodchippers reminded them of the British Exterminator Incident of '24, and they cringed. They shook their head. "I'm sorry, guys, it's dangerous territory out there, and I don't think you'd all fare well with that kind of responsibility. There's a good chance that if I let you lot go, you won't come back." They put their arm on their hip and closed their eyes affirmitively. Most of the group groaned. "THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!" Cried Book.

Taggy slid up to them. "C'mon, Winner, ol' buddy, ol' pal, ol' winner winner chicken dinner, you know I'd give you that kinda freedom if I were in your shoes!" "No you wouldn't." "Fair enough," they turned around and walked off. "THINK OF ALL THE FOOD!" Bomby cried. Nickel's eyes lit up. "Yeah!" He perked, as he scooched up to the defiant Winner. "Maybe they even have… purple tomatoes." Winner opened one eye. "The kind Two made for me back in the first episode?" They whispered. Nickel looked away playfully. "Perhaps."

Outside the hotel, Winner prepared to open a portal, waving their hand around slowly. "You guys owe me a real one." They said. "I'd get into a lot of trouble if Two found out I were using their powers to do this kinda stuff." Nickel got goosebumps. He and Two already weren't on good terms. "Oh, Winner, I'm sure we'll be okay!" Assured Cake. "So long as we don't, y'know… get lost. Or killed." Winner frowned. "Cake, you're a sweet guy, you don't have to be a part of this." He blushed slightly at the compliment. "No, no, really, we'll be fine! Book already told me all about how she escaped Evil Leafy, this should be no problem for her. Right, Book?" He turned to face her.

"Yeah, you could say so…" Book rubbed her arm nervously. Memories of her antics inside Evil Leafy were fuzzy after the 53rd puzzle or so, but from what she could recall she wasn't nearly as careful as Cake thought. Pits of spike and lava layered every corner of the dungeon and each obstacle grew more and more difficult for her to avoid; gruesome ends and embarrassing slip-ups were all too common and death became expected rather than feared, but at least back there she had some form of recovery. Who knew what this higher realm had to offer?

Winner shut their eyes as they began to conjure up the portal. Sparks flickered on their fingers as they moved hypnotically, a bright ball of energy starting to form on their rippling palm, flashing green and purple rapidly as it grew in size. The others looked on in amazement, gazing into the light as if they were challenging God to a staring contest. Naily, failing to break her stare, shuffled up on top of Bomby to cover up his fuse with her paws, in case a rogue flare set it on fire and blew him up. Besides the obvious, the last thing they needed was a loud explosion to draw attention to themselves, as if the electric crackling wasn't doing that already.

Winner clutched the ball with their fist. "So where are we going anyway?" Asked Nickel, choosing the worst time to ask a question. "Wh- I don't know!" Hissed Winner, hastily. "On the map, it looks kind of like a foot, if that helps!" They moved their arm back to aim. "You might wanna cover your ears…"

Two shuffled through their wardrobe, looking through their accessories before finding a large pink bow at the bottom of the pile. They brushed off the dust and slowly put it on, staring up at it to make sure it didn't fall. "How do I look?" They asked. Gaty finished her boba, slurping the contents at the bottom of the cup. "Absolutely fabulous," she complimented. "It suits you really well!" They smiled. Leave it to Gaty to give them a confidence boost. They sat down next to her, sipping their drink as they started to relax. "So what's been going on with Nickel?" Two groaned. "Ugh. It just feels like he doesn't care about all the effort I put in for everyone. He just casually criticizes my cooking like it's nothing, like I do it out of some sort of obligation! Like, I don't have to stay here, if I really didn't care I would've just up and left years ago! Why can't he see that?"

"Hmm." She thought for a moment. "Well, if I were you I'd show him the process of actually cooking the food rather than just giving it to him. It's easier for him to insult your creation because all he's seeing is the stuff on the plate, and not the hard work behind it, if that makes sense." Two swirled their tea like a wine glass. "Hmm… well, I guess it does. I'll see if it-"

The room suddenly shook violently, like a bomb had gone off and decimated one of the hotel's floors. The quaking lunged Two back in their seat, their drink splashing in their face and staining their bow. Whipped cream splutted like a cream pie in a circus act. "Oh shoot!" Gaty exclaimed. She stood up, hastily opening the closet. "You want me to grab a cloth, or some paper towels, or somethi-" She stopped when she turned back to look at them. She didn't know if their face had turned red from the sprinkles or the unbridled anger burning within them. It wouldn't take long for her to find out.

Winner stared at the portal, eyeing it to make sure everybody would fit, before hearing a flurry of muffled yet very loud curses from upstairs. "That's not good."

"RUN!" Shrieked Naily, speeding into the portal like a mouse into a hole. Taggy followed suit, then Nickel, then Bomby, then Cake. Book trailed last but stopped inches away from the portal, still extremely hesitant. "I-I can't decide! It just doesn't feel right yet!" Winner telekenetically floated some parts toward them. "Well you're gonna have to be quick if you wanna join the other five, I need to cover this up!" Book stared back at the deep, whirling maw before her… wait, did they say other five? There weren't only five other people on Just Not!

"PILLOW!" Cried Book. She'd forgotten all about her! Her heart sank. Pillow was already a hazard with her teammates around, who knows what would happen if she were left alone? She ran back up to Winner. "Winner I need you to throw me up to Pillow's room so I can take her with me!" "Huh? Book, I really don't have the time…" "You have to! Th- the lives of the contestants are at stake!" "…Book, are you going to go or-" "THROW ME!" She snapped, overpowering anything Winner had said or would say.

Book barrelled through the window into Pillow's room. Her eyes dashed around the pastel walls and contrastingly bloody splatters before spotting her, to her left. She appeared to be polishing an inanimate object of some kind. "Pillow, you have to co-" "I don't have a weapon," Pillow said, calmly. She snuck whatever she had in her sheets before turning around, giving a suspiciously contented smile. Book stared. "…Uh huh. Pillow, you have to come with me!" She grabbed her and leapt back out the window, instantly regretting not thinking things through. "Are we playing Yoylebungee again?" Asked Pillow, naively. "You forgot the rope." Book screamed her lungs out as the two fell down, down, down… Winner rushed to catch them both in their hand, throwing them in the portal just in time for them to close it off.

Two stomped around the corner. "WHAT IS GOING ON- Oh." They stopped in their tracks when they saw Winner, resting their arm against a vending machine shakily. The discomfort in their wide, crooked smile could be seen from a mile away. It created an uncomfortable vibe topped off by their worried, dilating eyes and furrowing brows. The air whistled between the two for a good few seconds, leaving silence so loud you could hear their muscles contract.

"Oh, hey Two, didn't see you there," Winner spoke hastily as they paced toward them, "sorry if I made a racket, darn vending machines stealing your money, rah! rah! rah! Really tests your temper, don't it?" They nudged the number slightly with their hand, "Hahaha, I suppose you'll be leaving now." Two waved their hands in front of them. "Wait wait wait, it stole your money?" They noted. Winner's pupils shrunk. "Oh, uhh, Two, you really don't have to-" "Well why didn't you just say something? I'd be happy to help you get it back!" Before they could get a sentence out, Two was already inspecting the vending machine for issues. "Let's see here… ew, five dollars for vanilla Dr. Fizz?" They rolled their eyes. "Stop." Winner cringed. When this was over they were gonna be owed enough favors to speedrun ten birthdays.

Book felt her eyes open slowly. Her vision was a blur, her surroundings morphing into an abstract mush of colors and simple shapes. Her head was swimming in a pool of nausea and stress. Had it been a dream? Could all this talk of portals and higher worlds be blamed on unconscious neurons firing alone? Naily stood over her, frowning worriedly. "Gee whiz, are you okay?" Book groaned as she slowly rubbed her temple with her paws. Her head throbbed against their eyes so much she felt like they were going to pop out. Pillow rushed over to her. "Perhaps she's dead. Book, are you dead? Say 'yes' if you're dead." Book sat up, mumbling to herself. "AH! ZOMBIE!" Cried Bomby, as he grabbed a rusty hammer from beside him and swung hysterically. "ZOMBIEEEEEEEE!"

"BOMBY I'M ALIVE!" Shrieked Book, widening her eyes. She slumped over, eyelids squinting as she blinked repeatedly. "I'm alive," she clarified. "I'm awake… where are we?" Cake looked around. The seven were surrounded by large, worn-down buildings, covered with graffiti and offensive etchings. An opening in front of them gave way to what looked like a street; that and the blisteringly bright sun above them were the only sources of light in what was otherwise a dark open tunnel. He certainly didn't want to be here at night. "Looks like…" "It's an alleyway." Pillow interrupted. "I didn't know we were going to the real world." Book stood up. "No, the real world is back- whatever. We've seen it. Can we go home now?!" "What? No way!" Nickel perked. "We only just got here, let's have a look around!"

NO!" She shouted. "Err, uhh, I mean, what about all the fun things we can do here in the alleyway? Like calculating the total worth of all of its many things!" "Three dollars," answered Price Tag, who represented the value on their face. "Hahahaha, that helps!" Book lied, glaring at them. "or, we could play Interdimensional Red Rover! I'll start." She made a mad dash for the portal, speeding forward and crashing into the back of a machine.

Book felt her eyes open slowly. Her vision was a blur, her surroundings morphing into an abstract mush of colors and simple shapes.

Pillow was quick to interrupt her reverie, grabbing her and flipping her back into a standing position. "That's better," she hummed. Book was dazed but at least she was still conscious. "Urgh… Wait, what am I still doing here!?" She cried as her gaze met the portal. She fixated particularly on the giant contraption blocking her path. "Wh- what's THAT doing here?! Why is this happening!?"

"Your companions probably punished you for not following the rules," Pillow assumed. "They didn't even call you on over." "They didn't even call her on over," Naily whispered to Taggy. She walked up to the portal and threw a lone pebble at it. It banged off the back of the machine and flew threw a window. "Yup, that's blocking us off alright." "So we're trapped?!" Cake yelped, fearfully. Price Tag attempted to comfort him. "Aww, don't say that, Cake! I'd say it's more like very heavy encouragement to stay." "That's all we really can do, isn't it…" Cake conceded.

The group was silent for a moment. "Well…" Naily lingered as she raised a paw. "The only missed shot you can shoot is an unshooted shot, ain't it?" She started walking off, Price Tag following close behind. The others shrugged, following in her footsteps. Book was so distracted trying to interpret Naily's phrase that by the time she could muster up a response, she and the rest of the group had already left.

Book paced up to them, "Wait, you're all just leaving?" She cried. "You can't! Shouldn't you try and break the wall down, or something? We're gonna get lost!" "Don't worry, we'll go back," Price Tag assured. "We're just exploring first!" "No. Taggy, no! This isn't as simple as 'exploring', we have no idea what this place looks like, or where everything is, or how big everything is, if we lose sight of this alleyway we won't find our way back and we'll lose EVERYTHING! Cake, you just got back with Loser after years of not seeing each other and now you're willing to abandon him?!" The color began to drain from his face. Guilt began to wash over him. "Well…"

Naily stepped forward to interject. "Book, you couldn't even break it down with your full body weight. Would you rather invest all your time in a lost cause or use what time you have in this new world to take a risk? Look," she flipped Book open to tear off a blank page, "You can scribble important information down on this and when we find something that can break down the structure, we'll go back! It solves itself!" Book sighed as she rubbed her temple. If she was so sure... "I really hope you know what you're doing. Do you have a pen?"

Just Not walked casually through the street, Book sketching important details and sign names on her pages in case they got lost. Cake was quick to notice how uncanny all of this world's inhabitants looked: their faces had strange lumps beneath their mouths and eyes, and odd, patterned shapes on both sides of their heads. He assumed these were arms. Almost all of them towered over the group, some taller than Bomby and Book combined. Their eyes were rich with detail and color, almost all of them staring back at Cake with an atmosphere of judgement and suspicion.

He felt his cheeks turn pink. Did they hate him? Did he do something wrong? He'd clearly done something wrong. Why else would they keep looking at him?! "Looks like these guys haven't seen an object before," Naily hummed, derailing his train of thought. "Everyone looks so… same-ey." Nickel whispered. "How do they tell each other apart?" Cake sighed. At least his friends were somewhat on the same page, even if they didn't completely share his mindset.

"This place doesn't look like it has what we're looking for," observed Pillow. "Well maybe we just need to dive deeper!" Taggy eyed the crowd and picked whoever they thought was nicest. They scuttered up to them, making a ^.^ and striking a kind pose. "'Scuse me, sir! Me and my buddies were just looking for some caviar, and you look like the kinda guy who'd know their stuff about that."

"I don't," they replied, briskly. "Ah, well, we've all got room to learn. But could ya redirect us to someone who knows where we can find any? My gray weezerino over here could really go for some sevruga." They dragged Nickel towards them.

"Sevruga?" The man pondered. "Sounds Russian. You'll probably need a plane ticket, or something."

Nickel broke free from Taggy's grasp. "Does it cost money?" He said, playing along with Taggy's cool guy persona. "Because I happen to be pretty experienced in the field of things worth five cents or under, if you catch my drift."

The man was silent for a moment. "If you can't afford it, you can also drive," they muttered. "Through the sea. You'd have to hold your breath for a while, though."

Book cringed at the reminder. "Aaaaand that's where we'll end things for now! Thanks anyway!" She nudged Nickel, cueing everyone to speedwalk away.

The man was left with his thoughts. His inner monologue began to scold him. "Damn it, Barack, you should've gone with them. They seemed nice, even if they were cosplaying as random objects." He sighed as he pulled out a special red, white and blue senzu bean. You'd think a former president, let alone a Saiyan, would be better at talking to people, but here he was. Alone, and about as awkward as a worm in a spider club. "What an Obummer," he mumbled as he popped it in his mouth, letting the chemicals and sudden nutrition wash the regret and loneliness away.

Just Not walked for what seemed like ages, the ever-expanding list of turns, streets and stops growing harder and harder for Book to remember. Whatever part of the journey they were up to now, it certainly didn't look like the beginning. Most of the buildings now were more than two hotels high, a far cry from the quaint forts just a couple blocks back.

Book wondered if her team were actually serious about walking all the way out to the ocean just so they could go to this "Russia" place. Finally having enough, she decided to speak up. "Hey, guys, uhh… are we going to do anything other than walking while we're here?"

Pillow looked around, before catching something in the glimpse of her eye. "We can drive!" She chirped, pointing off to the distance. The others looked: a large, black vehicle stood before them. It was chunky, sleek, and surely big enough to fit everyone. It led a trail of multiple similar cars, all empty and parked in front of a beautiful hotel, one of the tallest in the street.

Book groaned. She had to start wording things better.

Price Tag inspected the vehicle. "Hmmm… doesn't look very seaworthy." "Plus, if we're going to steal it," Naily lowered her voice to a whisper, "we'd have to take out the guards first."

She pointed to two flags, waving proudly on the front end of the van. Nobody recognized either of them. Naily winked at Bomby, who raised a hand, gesturing everyone to stand back. The others were still, as he breathed in. He leapt forth, landing quietly in front of the trunk, before wiggling his fingers and slicing them through both flagpoles at once. The flags slid clean off, landing in his palms.

"THAT SHOULD BE BOTH OF THEM," He shrilled.

The others were impressed. Naily cheered eccentrically, whistling and wooing loudly like she'd just seen pigs fly. "Wasn't that the coolest thing you've ever seen!?" She yelled. "Alright, now let's get in the car!"

Everyone obliged, Naily hastily shuffling into the driver's seat and grabbing onto the wheel. "Oh, uhh, Naily, I think it would be better if I drive this time." Book cautioned, eyeing the pawless pedals. "Why's that?" Naily responded, smiling at her mindlessly. "Oh, it's just, y'know, I have…" She stopped herself before she could say "arms". She remembered a late night bar conversation she had with a very drunk Snowball, who was unfortunate enough to bring up that subject around her.

"It was terrifying," he moped as he chugged down another shot glass. "All I wanted was to join her team. I was nice. I did nothing wrong. I told them they seemed like nice people, even if they were weak and armless." His eyes widened with sorrow as they stared off into space. The memories hit him like a shovel, jabbing into the nerves of his emotions and digging tears out of his cold, almost dead eyes. "And then, out of nowhere…" He whined, his voice cracking in pitch. He turned to Book suddenly and grabbed her shoulders. "She owned me!" He cried, shaking her hysterically. Book could see the fear and vulnerability in his pupils as they dilated and shook. "She owned me! SHE OWNED ME! SHE OWNED ME, BOOK! I WAS OWNED! SHE OWNED ME!"

She didn't quite know what "owned" meant in this case, no matter how many times it was repeated. But if famous tough-guy Snowball was afraid to get on Naily's bad side, chances were Book should very much avoid that path as well.

"…a very strong drivers' spirit!" She finished. "Mine's stronger," Naily grinned. "C'mon, Price Tag, you take the pedals!" "On it!" They saluted, sitting comfortably beneath her. Book sighed as she moved to the back seat, while Bomby took passenger's. If anything went wrong she wouldn't be to blame.

After a bit of fumbling with the ignition and figuring out how four people would fit in two seats, the car started and the group were off. Nickel could barely make out someone glaring at them from inside the building, but he didn't care. This was a whole new experience for him! He shuffled his feet, making sure that they didn't damage Cake's frosting as he sat on top of him.

Book, meanwhile, sat directly in front of Pillow, whose arms wrapped around her in a spooning position. Pillow, ironically, was very passionate about keeping herself safe. She was the only one in the car, aside from Cake, who had strapped themselves in, and had even encouraged Book to share the seatbelt with her. She denied, nonetheless. She didn't need it on such a casual drive, and would hate to make either of them uncomfortable with a tight squeeze.

Naily stared at all the viewers, and they stared back. They'd been doing that a lot, hadn't they? Was it the van this time? She couldn't understand why it'd be such a spectacle to them, what with its all black coloring and rather uninteresting interior. Perhaps these viewers were just very easy to excite. Their brains would probably implode if they saw something with as much visual noise as the Freesmart Supervan, she thought.

Her brows quickly furrowed into a frown when she saw a series of billboards looming over the rest of the town. They all had the same image plastered over them: a creature, presumably a viewer, smiling smugly at the camera, in a confident, commanding pose. Underneath them, a series of stripes and a string of bolded, instructional text:

"Vote Ron DeSantis for presidential reelection, November 2028. A stronger government, a stronger America."

Naily scoffed. She hadn't even made it past her own team's first elimination, and here this guy was, plastering their mug everywhere trying to get people to vote for them twice? As if one victory wasn't enough? Something about it made her blood boil. It wasn't like their silly campaign would even work, anyway, none of the billboards even had letters or square brackets.

She saw some viewers in blue uniforms ripping a much smaller poster off a building: it had similar messaging, but the colors and figure looked different. Most likely it was endorsing someone else, encouraging viewers to vote for an opponent or a teammate. The blue uniformed viewers tore it off, ripping it to bits, before throwing what was left on the ground.

Whoever these contestants were the prize they were battling for must've been really elusive if it meant they were willing to hire their own personal goons. What prize could somehow be more enticing than limitless power? Why were these people so desperate to win it? Just a viewer thing, she guessed. As if object traditions were any less weird.

"So what do you all wanna do first?" Nickel inquired. "Ooh, let's see if they have a beauty salon!" Taggy smirked. "I'd personally LOVE to get my nails done." "That's funny," said Naily. "Thank you. But really, wasn't the plan to get something to eat?" "Didn't you hear the guy before?" Cake butted in. "The caviar we're looking for is probably 2763 canals away." "That doesn't mean we can't try something else!" Nickel replied. "Yeah! Let's see if they have any cool restaurants 'round here." As if on cue, Pillow looked out the window, immediately noticing a sign that stood out from the others. "How does Burger King sound?"

The rest of her team turned their attention to the restaurant. The bright and colorful branding of the logo enticed all of them. The word "burger" implied food, meat. A meal they could all share; the word "king" implied either medieval decadence or supremacy, as if the cooks here were the metaphorical kings of all burgers, delivering quality unmatched by any other chain.

"Don't mind if I do," Naily muttered under her breath as she turned the car around and moved into the Drive Thru. She knew how this kind of thing worked from her team's many late night visits to Gelatin's Steakhouse, but the experience of being in the driver's seat for once was almost surreal in a way. "So what do you all want?" She asked, flinching at the unnatural feeling of those words spilling out of her own mouth.

One by one, everyone listed off what they wanted. Being the only photosynthetic creature among them, Price Tag jokingly asked for a torch.

Naily rolled down the window and forwarded the message to the speaker, whose gritty and bitcrushed voice directed them to the next window. She did so, reaching what appeared to be the restaurant's kitchen and playing Where's Woody with her order as she stared through the window.

"Oh, there's other cooks. Do you want me to take care of them?" Asked Pillow, innocently. "No, it's fine." Naily replied, not knowing exactly what that meant. She tapped the wheel mindlessly as boredom began to set in. The group was left in awkward silence for a brief moment. "Let's listen to some music!" Pillow chimed in, again. She shoved Book off her and reached into the front seat, clicking the radio on. The scratchy, radical voice echoed through the car's walls. "And next up on our totally tubular 2000s throwback, 'This is Such a Pity' by Weezer!"

Pillow appeared to recognize the name, and showing more emotion in that moment than throughout the rest of the trip, she frowned slightly and clicked the radio back off. "Silence also has its perks." As awkwardness descended upon the vehicle, each member of Just Not silently waited for another to speak up, spark a conversation and break the tension.

"How would we kiss?" Price Tag inquired.

Naily raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What? M…me?" "Yeah," They looked up at her and smiled casually. "How would we kiss?" "Uhhh…" She was confused more than anything. Hadn't she already kissed them plenty of times before? "You mean…" She moved to give Price Tag a casual yet loving smooch on their forehead. They chuckled as their face began to warm slightly. They didn't expect her to demonstrate, but weren't complaining. "Oh, nah, heheheh, I mean more…" Their voice grew quiet. "more deeper than that, if that makes sense."

"Oh." Naily's face lit up. "OH, you mean, like, you wanna make out? Like…" She looked out the window, then back to them. "…like now?" They silently nodded, making a bashful <:].

She frowned, sympathetically. "Oh, Taggy, sweetheart, I'm sorry, but you don't exactly have a… 'mouth' mouth, do you? There's not much for me to work with…" They matched their expression, a disappointed :(. She was correct. Price Tag did technically have a mouth but it lacked any depth and couldn't be used for anything other than talking and making faces. The closest thing they could get to tasting anything was their antennae, which they used to drink water and absorb light energy for nutrition. Using that would be unbelievably awkward, though…

"If there isn't a way," they technically lied, "can we at least pretend?" Naily smiled. That she could do. Turning them down at this point would just be cruel. "Oh, alright," she grinned, playfully rolling her eyes. "C'mere." She pulled Price Tag towards her for a kiss. They let out an adorable EEK! as their "lips" met Naily's.

Within seconds the LARP kissing session was in full swing, much to the chagrin of Nickel who looked on in partial disgust. Despite being on their team, he hadn't seen the two interact much, especially not with such blatant intimacy. "Ugh, somebody needs to get a room. Are they always like this?" He hissed to Bomby.

"YEP," he beamed. He could confirm what with how close the three had grown since Naily's return from years of separation. The long-distance relationship they were forced to adapt to after TPOT 5 didn't exactly scratch their mutual itch to be in each others arms. The current sight brought back a particularly pleasant memory from more recent times:

When the show ended and they finally had a chance to reunite, the three had all built up such a desire to give affection to one another that the first thing they did as soon as they made physical contact was hug for three straight days. Sometimes, Bomby would do some footwork, carrying them into their room and grabbing drinks or food, all while not breaking the hug of course. But for the most part, those blissful 75 hours were spent doing nothing but chatting, snuggling, relaxing, and watching random shows on TV. Oh, the way they all cackled watching the Exitors' real time fandubs and hilariously bad reruns of the Object Bang Theory…

Since that faithful day, one would rarely be seen without the two others. The closest they got to splitting was when they chose to sit at different tables, over an argument regarding how to spell fortnite, a period of two weeks, which was resolved later that morning. But aside from that, they were strung together like a sowed blanket. Or, rather, welded together like three small Lego pieces, pressed together with ease and virtually impossible to be separated from that point onward.

Naily slowly moved backwards as she stared into her lovers eyes. "You're so beautiful," she hummed. Price Tag chuckled sheepishly as their blush deepened, before gazing off to their left. "Naily…" "Yes, honey?" She pulled them closer. "She's here…" "Yeah, I'm here…" She wrapped her paws around them in a hug. "I'm so sorry I ever left you…" "No, I mean…" They frowned. "At the window. Our order's here." Naily looked to see someone with bags of food. "SHOOT!" She cried as she dropped Price Tag and scrambled to look natural. "We'll, uhh, be taking our food now, thanks!" She smirked, nervously.

The worker was uninterested. "Uh-huh," She muttered tiredly as she handed the bags of food over to her customer, who grabbed on to them with what she thought were really large gloves. She didn't know what it was with these kids and their weird ass fashion trends but at this point she was so exhausted that she couldn't bother to care. Working 16 straight hours without a wink of rest had taken its toll and all she wanted was to get this last bunch of customers over with so she could end her shift. "Will that be cash or credit?" She sighed.

Naily blinked. "What?" "Cash or credit?" The cashier repeated. "How are you going to pay for your order?" Nickel stood up and slid over to the front. "Oh, I think I see what this guy's deal is. Check this out!" He flopped face-first onto the counter. The cashier stared down at him, then up at Naily, who stared back with an inattentive grin. "…Is that a nickel?" The unamused cashier mumbled. "The one and only!" She confirmed. "Okay. This is five cents," she said, blankly. "Your order is $104.86." "Uhhh, actually it's worth much more than meets the eye!" Book interjected, trying to stop a conflict before it could begin. She scrambled to make something up, "It's a one of a kind, uhhh… Nicko…min…ator, the last of its species!"

"What? No I'm not!" "Oh yeah, you are!" Price Tag >:]'d, sticking to the bit. "He's only one of the highest priced thingamajigs on the market!" They wrapped their string around him and fibbed the highest value they could count to. "check it, 8 whole bucks!"

Book facepalmed. Cake grew worried. "Wait, are we really gonna just leave him here?" "It's fine," said Pillow. "There's other ones." The cashier raised an eyebrow. "So he's not one of a kind? W-Whatever, we can't accept this. If you can't afford to pay for your order I'm afraid you'll have to return it." "Well," sighed Nickel as he stood up, "I know when I'm beat."

"Now just hold on, Nickel…" Naily flicked him back over on his back. "I think I can make this work. Here, I'll write you a check." She opened the glove compartment and grabbed a paper slip. She scribbled something down and slapped it on the counter, sliding it over to the cashier, who was too tired to realize she couldn't accept that as payment either.

She picked up the slip and was met with a crudely written note, "Distraction". "DRIVE!" Shouted Naily. By the time the cashier had realized what was going on, her group of dine-and-dashers had already sped off, with the food, but without the odd nickel cosplayer that still lay on her desk. "They're gone, aren't they?" He asked. Wendy sighed. Trillions of entities in the universe and none of them wanted to give her a single fucking break. She pressed a button at the top of the room, "Code 2762 at 1:15," before resting her chin on the bar and waiting to be allowed to leave. "You got anything you wanna kill time with?" She slurred to the coin costumed fellow. "Uhhh…" He thought of an interesting conversation topic. "I cranked a machine once."

"What are you doing?!" Cried Cake as he watched the Burger King fade away from his vision. "He's still in there! NICKEL'S STILL IN THE RESTAURANT!" "Oh yeah… Well, the only option to get him back I can think of is to go through the Drive Thru again, and that's gonna need a lotta quick maneuvering now that we've burned bridges." Naily searched through the bags for some fries. "How about we eat first? Can't have good reflexes on an empty stomach!" Price Tag looked up at her. "I thought you already ate?" "But these are better for the brain," replied Naily as she stuffed a pawful of fries in her mouth. "Potatoes and all. Not as high in mercury." "Ah, that's fair."

Naily handed a fry over to Book, who handed it over to Cake. "You want this one, Cake?" "I'll eat when we get home," he muttered, quietly, as Book took the fry back and ate it. He was too pertubed to dwell on food. How could anybody not be pertubed knowing one of their friends was accidentally left behind? How was nobody freaking out?! Book could see he was fearful, almost to the point of tears. "Cake? Are you feeling alright?"

"We left him behind…" He weeped. "We abandoned him! We're never gonna see him again!" Book felt guilt wash over her. "Oh, don't say that! You know he's just a few blocks away." She rubbed his back. "Look, I know our teammates are a bit… erratic, at times, but they still care deeply about their friends, don't they? They'd never do something that out of line if they weren't sure it'd end up alright in the end." He sniffed. "But what abo-"

"Shh," Pillow hushed as she slid into the front seat, pointing onto the window. "Look over there," she exclaimed, cueing everyone to look in her direction. It was the same hotel where Naily had found the car. Pillow was particularly fixating on a suited man standing outside, who appeared particularly livid for whatever reason. He was kicking and screaming, jumping up and down in unabashed fury. "Isn't that the guy from the poster?" Taggy pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Naily replied. "Ron whacha call it. Gosh, his face's practically turning red. Pillow, try reading his lips!"

Pillow rolled down the window and peeked her head out, curling her hands around her eyes to mimic binoculars. She spoke in a monotone voice. "-idiots, I don't care who you are, I am the President. If you don't get it back in five seconds, you can tell your kids they won't be having a christmas… look, there they are, that's my car, those assholes stole my car, shoot them, shoot them."

"PILLOW!" Cried Book, who pulled her down just in time to miss the flurry of bullets coursing through the windows. Everyone followed suit as gunshots flurried through the car; the bullet-proof glass was strong, but the government's exclusive top-model NERF guns were stronger. When the noise fell silent, Naily perked back up. "Whew, that was close. You guys all good?" "Not mentally," Book whimpered. "We have one casualty…" Cake spoke, crestfallen as he held up a soda cup. Liquid bled out of the gaping bullethole in its middle, pouring through the front and back ends. Taggy giggled. "Heh. Well, if an object got shot today, I'm sure glad it wasn't one with a face. Huh, Naily?" They looked up at her, frowning when she didn't humor their playful quip.

"Naily? Are you OK, buddy?" Her eyes were wide, blank, empty, yet filled with despair. Invisible tears fell down her face, sliding down to the corners of her mouth, a small frown with lips that covered her clenched, grinding teeth, as if to give but a glimpse at her interior rage. Price Tag's face formed semicolons. They'd never seen her like this. "Slow down." Naily hissed at their partner, who understood quickly. They eased pressure on the pedal as Naily slowly turned around, the vehicle creeping onto the sidewalk.

"Wait for my signal…" She carefully waited for non-target pedestrians to clear the runway. Book began to connect the dots. Her heart sank. "Naily, it's just a cup, whatever you're gonna do, don't do it!"

"Brake…" Bomby fastened his seatbelt. Those gunmen had really done it now; there was no stopping Naily at this point. Whatever was about to happen, was about to happen. "RAM IT!"

The car shot forward. Onlookers screamed and leapt out of the way as the vehicle sped towards the clique of suits. The self-proclaimed President's jaw dropped in horror as the cadillac careened towards his body. His ear-splitting scream was cut off with a loud, painful crunch, his body crashing into the windshield, his nose breaking and his arm bones forced to twist into unnatural angles. His face flattened from the sheer force, like something one would see out of a Tom & Jerry cartoon. It quickly slipped downwards leaving only a trail of blood, which was quickly cleaned off with the wipers. The body fell under the tires as they crushed out what little life remained in the corpse.

"Aw yeah!" Cheered Taggy as they gave Naily a high-five. Book's jaw was agape. "That was… you just…" "Now that Big Red's been taken care of, let's get Nickel back!" She flicked the radio back on instinctively, and like something out of a cheesy movie, a song began on cue. "Look at this photograph," the speakers blared. Pillow barely bat an eye. She clearly didn't mind this song as much.

Nickel flailed his legs around. "And it's just, she does nothing, while I toil and toil and toil for some stupid recovery center that doesn't even work after a while!" Wendy was attentive to the story the stranged coin costumed fellow was telling. She didn't think it was real, at all, but anything to keep her awake while she waited for management to let her leave.

He stood up and started gesturing wildly with his feet, "Flumple dumple smordledorf, it was degrading! Like, I was reduced to a cranking slave, crank crank crack 'till the sky goes black." He sat back down with a huff. "Why didn't you just, like… stop?" Wendy asked. "What?" "Like, just stop cranking. If you feel, like… degraded, or whatever it was, why keep doing something you hate, y'know?"

And let his friends die? He quickly grew defensive. "Oh yeah, well…" He stuttered, struggling to come up with a comeback. "Why don't you… stop… your thing?!" She fell silent. Nickel's response was cheap, and poorly delivered, but something about it resonated with her in a way she couldn't describe. Could she really do that? Just stop doing her job for a while because it strained her mental health to the point of splinters? Then again, money was tight… She furrowed her eyebrows. "You do your whatever, I do mine," she dismissed vaguely.

A car swept by, as the dine and dashing group from before grabbed Nickel by the foot and pulled him back into the car. Taking back a tip? Now that was low… not that he was, actually, a coin of course. Was he? Whatever, he was gone anyway, but his idea remained…

Cake grabbed onto Nickel and hugged him tightly, as he sobbed hysterically. "NICKEL I'M SO SORRY I MISSED YOU SO MUCH I WAS SO WORRIED I'D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN," He spouted, as he peppered him with platonic kisses. Nickel shut his eyes, shielding them from the brown smooch marks appearing all across his body. He was glad Cake loved him enough to fear for his safety, he just wished he wasn't caught so off guard. "Thanks, but I was kinda in the middle of something…"

"Well that doesn't matter, now," Naily said as she swung the car back onto the road, then into the nearest parking lot. "You must be starving after all that waiting! Here…" She took the items that weren't fries out of the bag. Those were for later. She threw a cheeseburger at Nickel, some nuggets at Cake, a 'whopper' at Bomby, an ice cream at Pillow, a salad at Book, and took the kids meal for herself. The plastic toy inside, presumably inedible to her, was given to Taggy; an astronaut of some kind, with Toy Story 7 branding, they were merely estatic that it eminated light of any kind for them to, quote unquote, "eat".

Nickel stared into the burger, his focus blotting out all other senses. This was it. The purpose of the entire trip, to get at least a taste of viewers' world food. With great carefulness, he moved the food toward his mouth and bit into it, his teeth digging into the papery outer layer, the soft, warm bread, and the juicy, succulent meat. He thinks he forgot a step, but it doesn't matter. He's eating now, and he can finally taste the higher realm.

But something about it feels off, artificial. Less personal than Two's cooking. It tasted better, obviously, but what it had in flavour it lacked in heart. There is no love, no passion to be tasted, rather, homogenized corporate fluff.

His train of thought was derailed by a series of blasting sirens, fading in from in front of him. "W…what's that?" Pillow looked to the front window for the source of the noise. There, crawling over the horizon, were a flock of cars speeding their way. Atop their rooves were sirens, flashing red and blue. "Oh, I know these guys! They're feds." She turned to Naily, smiling. "They're probably angry at us because we killed their leader. We should drive. Now." She got the memo, forwarding the message to Taggy, who floored the pedal and swerved the car onto the road. The chase was on.

The car bulleted down the path, dashing away from the persuing police. Onlookers gasped as sirens whined throughout the street, dispatch after dispatch chasing the rogue presidential cadillac. Many scrambled for their phones to take pictures of the incident, eager to document perhaps one of the strangest events in U.S. political history.

One enemy car managed to catch up with Just Not, preparing to throw them off course. Ram! Nickel flew off Cake, hitting the back of the driver's seat before collapsing onto the floor. "Oh dear!" Book cried as she stood to pick him up. Ram! The car surged forward. Book was thrown out of her seat, pages aflutter. Pillow, who was restrained by her seatbelt, took notice. "You seem to be having trouble with one of the drivers," She observed. "Do you want me to take care of them?" "Y-yeah, sure, do what you can!" Book groaned as she rubbed her temple. Ram! The car swerved from left to right. Naily struggled to keep balance, frantically trying to stop the car from spinning. Taggy twisted into awkward positions in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pedal. Bomby gripped onto the grab handle, failing to curb his panic. "WE'RE GONNA DIE!" He screamed. Ram! Like a kick in an already bruised chest, the car was shoved again. "HURRY!" Cried Bomby. When Book finally managed to regain composure she could make out Pillow reaching for the back of her covers, pulling out a large, black shape. Her eyes widened. "I-is that a…" Ram! Book shrieked as she fell back onto the floor. Pillow rolled down the window, unfazed.

"I lied, earlier." She said, as she unbuckled, and took aim. "I have a gun."

Right as the car was about to ram again, Pillow fired a spray of bullets, which burst through the enemy's windshield and caused the car to swerve away in surprise. It turned sharply to the left, spinning directly into a building, which collapsed on top of it in a fiery explosion. "BURN IN HELL, YOU CAPITALIST PIG DOGS!" Cried Pillow.

Naily saw the car fade away, and sighed in relief. The feeling vanished as she saw a sharp curve in the road. "We're about to turn!" She shouted. Pillow noted, grabbing onto the grab handle and using the velocity from the vehicle's swing to fling herself onto the back trunk. She used one hand to cling onto the window, and the other to hold onto the gun. Bullets fired hysterically at the cops as they swerved, desperately trying to dodge the storm of gunfire while keeping chase with the criminals.

"How are we going to get home?!" Cake panicked as he pulled Nickel in for a protective hug. "I don't know!" Naily snapped. "The alleyway could be anywhere!" Book facepalmed. Her cover was starting to redden from the amount of times she had slapped it these past few hours. Taggy made a <:[. "Book, weren't you keeping directions?!" "Me?!" Book replied. "Oh, yeah, me, uhh…" She scrambled across the floor. That page couldn't have gone too far, could it?

After a few seconds of searching and a quick buildup of fear, she finally found the page. She sighed as she sat back in her seat and buckled up, scanning the pages for any valuable information. In spite of how rushed it was, it felt surprisingly comprehensible. "Okay, do you know where Barnes Street is?" "No!" Naily responded, before seeing a street sign. "Yes!" "Okay, turn right there…"

Pillow felt herself slide sharply to her left, flipping over onto her front as she struggled to maintain her grip on the rim. She found herself awkwardly shifting onto her right as she tried to get a good look at the pack of feds, still following her with intent to kill. If they didn't recognise her before, they certainly recognised her now.

She was running low on ammo, and if she wanted to permanently get rid of the threat, she'd have to change tactics. She looked up. A helicopter flew above them at an almost safe distance. She assumed it belonged to a news station, of some sort. Stupid spies, probably broadcasting this live for the whole world to see, like it was any of their business. At least in BFDI there was a chance to edit some of the more personal things out. She took aim.

She unexpectedly swerved back to her right, this time almost falling off the car. Her feet slid off the trunk, and for the moment, she thought she would end up skidding onto the road, meeting an untimely end as her cover was ripped to shreds. Yet, thankfully, a swift swerve sent her back to the uncomfortable, yet safer position she was in before, and she, once again, took aim.

"OK, now you're gonna wanna stick to this road for a couple more metres!" Book instructed. Naily obliged, using this time to glare at the car coming up to her right. It slowly gained on her, and she anticipated another ramming. But instead, the driver rolled down the window and poked their head out to talk to her.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA," they shouted, over the unending howls of the wind. "HOW FAST YOU'RE GOING?!" Naily rolled down her window. "NO," she remarked, "I CAN'T READ." "I'M GOING TO NEED TO SEE YOUR LICENSE AND REGISTRATION!" She rolled her eyes, pulling out an I.D. from who knows where and sticking her paw out to give it to them. They grabbed it and read its label, a single, crudely written word: "Distraction". Looking up from the note, they were barely given enough time to react to the car in front of them, and with a painful crash, they demolished the entire front of their car, and practically their entire body. "Naily 2, Viewers 0!" Cheered Taggy.

After skillful shooting at the helicopter's rotors, Pillow watched the fireworks. The machine barreled down uncontrollably, spiralling into the police herd and colliding with a loud, dramatic explosion, which sent debris flying even in her close vicinity. The bright orange light soon faded, leaving only piles of rust and rubble. Pillow sighed in relief, and swerved back into the car. That spectacle was worth the world. "Uhh, guys, I think we missed," Cake muttered as he pointed to the bright neon "alleyway" sign that they had just sped past. That must've been where we came from, Book thought as she facepalmed.

To make matters worse, Bomby could see another herd of cars speeding towards them. "TURN! TURN!" He shouted. Naily swerved around, this time heading in the opposite direction. Her stomach dropped when she saw a pile of cars blocking her path. "Well, we're done for." said Nickel. "Taggy, brake!" Naily commanded. Much to her surprise, they didn't. "Price Tag, brake!" "No, we can't!" They snapped. "You can make it through this, you ran over that guy, you can run through a couple cars!"

Their words were kind, if not poorly timed considering the circumstances. Nethertheless, she trusted them enough to play along. She angled herself towards the alleyway and shut her eyes, hoping with all her might that they were correct and she would push through the piles of cars. It was either that, or nothing.

By now, a crowd of almost every object in the hotel had gathered around the vending machine. Green tape was set up near the area, so nobody but those willing to try and fix it could cross. Surprisingly, after so many hours, nobody could seem to understand what was wrong with the vending machine, or how they could get Winner's "money" back. Not even Golf Ball could fix the issue.

Snowball, one of the only objects who hadn't previously showed up, stepped proudly in to the fray. He strutted down the cleared line, "You're all stumped by a vending machine? Pathetic! I can fix something like that in seconds," He boomed, shoving Golf Ball out of the way, "because I have arms!"

"No, stop, don't." Said Winner, sarcastically. He breathed in, then out, as he stretched his arms towards the vending machine. "Open sesame!"

Nothing happened. Everyone was silent for a brief few seconds. Snowball took another deep breath. "Open sesa-"

The car burst through the machine, flattening Snowball in the process. It flipped over repeatedly as the other objects rushed to get out of the way, Winner particularly growing afraid as their once dimmed fears were quickly rekindled. Finally, it settled, resting on its back.

One by one, Just Not climbed out of the vehicle. Naily, realizing that she wasn't dead, leapt around in celebration and cheered. Seeing Taggy, she leapt into their legs estatically, giving them multiple swift kisses and thanks. Their string began to wag again as the affection extinguished their uneasiness. They made a ^w^, their voice cracking as they cheered giddily that they were both okay, and they didn't think twice before reciprocating her hug as they wrapped their legs around hers tightly. Soon afterwards they were joined by Bomby, who pulled both of them in for a group hug. "OHMAGOSH! NAILY! TAGGY!" He cried, as the group barrel-rolled forward in excitement.

Soon after they were joined by Cake, who was glad to see his friends were alright, then Nickel, then Book, then Pillow…

"Just Not?!" Cried Two, as they all stopped to look at them. "Where have you been? We've been trying to fix this ve-" They froze when they turned around to see a giant, green portal. They were left in a paralyzing state of shock, their jaw agape as they stared at the wormhole.

"The real world," they slowly turned to the team. "You went to the real world."

Price Tag sighed, as they stepped forward. "I guess there's no denying it any longer." They shut their eyes into a U_U. "It was Winner. Winner forced us to go." They recoiled. "T-Taggy!" "Winner! You mean you were in on this?!" They began to sweat. "Well, I mean-" "Yeah, totally! We were just trying to keep to ourselves, but they threatened to terminate our cable subscription, it was horrible!" Naily put a paw on her forehead melodramatically, playing along with the bit. "Book, you can back us up, right?"

But Book was already running off. She held up a finger, likely to indicate that they had taken things 'one' step too far, before disappearing into the distance. The joke was on her, though, Naily thought. She was holding up the wrong one.

Either way she couldn't keep up the act. "…It's just a prank?" She shrugged.

"I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS A BIRTHDAY GIFT OR ANOTHER TRIAL FROM GOD!" Two yelled, "I AM BEYOND ANGRY AT ALL OF YOU! Winner, I gave you clear instructions to not randomly create portals to the real world without my permission."

"I'm sorry!" They sighed. "N-Nickel said there were purple tomatoes, and I was hungry!"

"You eat those literally every other day! Nickel! I tell you to be more grateful for what you have, so you run off into another dimension?!" "W-well, yeah, but the food they have there doesn't really taste- have the same heart that yours does."

"…YOU ATE THEIR FOOD?!" They cried, taking personal offense. "Look," said Naily, "I'm really sorry if we did something wrong by running off. We just wanted to find more of the exotic caviar you were talking about!"

They frumped. "The ca- Is that what this is about?" Nickel's eyes darted around. "Well, yeah, where else would you get it from?"

"Nickel." Two said, bluntly. "Nickel, look at me. We have a canal, with fish in it. That lay eggs. Caviar is fish eggs."

"Oh." He tapped his foot, awkwardly. "Well that's why we didn't really… find any, anyway. We mostly just ate burgers."

"Whatever you ate, it wasn't worth violating one of my clearest rules!" They sighed. "Look, I'll let you all off the hook this time, since clearly none of you had any malicious intent." They walked towards the portal, while eyeing Winner, "and using your limitless power irresponsibly, even for just a minute, is admittedly tempting," before standing in front of it. "But you all could've gotten very hurt, and for that risk alone, I don't want you ever sneaking out like that again."

They turned around. "Now I'm going to go get some stuff for oh MY GOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD!" They screamed as they saw a flurry of tanks, helicopters, and police cars aiming directly at them. They hastily ripped the portal off the wall, folding it into a bite-sized piece before swallowing it with a quick gulp. They breathed heavily for a few seconds. Winner raised their eyebrows. "That's impressive." "WHAT DID YOU- Thanks, by the way, thank you for noticing, but WHAT DID YOU DO!?"

Pillow pulled out some shoelaces. "We also killed the president."

Nickel bit into his fried caviar. It was crunchier, and more bitter than his previous feast. "Well, maybe two week house arrest isn't that bad after all!" Naily perked, kicking her feet against her assigned bed as she switched on the TV. "Yeah," Taggy said as they huddled under the blanket. "We get room service and everything!" "AND, THANKS TO DOORDASH, 4% CASHBACK ON EVERY PURCHASE." Cheered Bomby. Naily awkwardly nodded. Perhaps exposure to the viewers' world had gone to his head.

She looked up at the roof - gray, like the rest of the room - and silently sighed. While she appeared about as optimistic as the others, secretly, Naily couldn't wait to get out of here. The room's dull coloring was nowhere near as visually stimulating as her walls, which were somehow littered with bright neon blinkie gifs and other animated posters. She stared enviously at the bed which would've been assigned to Book had she not been pardoned by Two. Stupid justice. She was probably being rewarded with a nice, tropical vacation for her efforts to stop the situation from escalating before it began, while the rest of the team lounged in prison.

Naily was right: but in actuality, being separated from her friends even for a little while was perhaps just as punishing to Book as this ordeal was to Naily. The friend group they shared was tight-knit: nobody could stay mad at each other for long, and even if they didn't think it, they longed to see each other again and quickly reconcile.

"Well, Burger Kings come and go…" Cake stated as he ate a fry, whose recipe had been copied from the titular restaurant after much research, "but you're all the only monarchs I'll ever need."

Awkward, yet sweet. That was Cake. He huddled up with the rest of his team in a hug while thinking about how Loser would be the royal jester in this metaphor.

Ironically, Nickel thought to himself as he took another bite of his caviar, Two perhaps did need to go to the viewers' world to make proper ground sevruga after all, before the incident made it too dangerous for anyone to venture into again. Except it wasn't the caviar that was obtained from the viewers' world.

It was the microwaves, delivered by Black Sea Shipping Company.

Pillow crept into her room. It had been vacant for the past fortnite on account of her house arrest. Her friends were currently having a reunion party downstairs to celebrate finally being able to interact with the outside world. How naive, or rather, ignorant. They had finally taken a step outside of their little bubble and were still perfectly content with staying inside? Their loss.

She bit her fingernail into the shape of a key, and unlocked her drawer. Two had confiscated her gun after finding it during the car inspection. They didn't, however, think to search her room. Searching through her pile of backup weapons, she found another: a ray gun. Smaller, and with a much slower firing speed, but it packed a punch if you had good aim. Perfect for what she was trying to achieve.

She switched it to "Portal" mode. The incident was probably all over the news by now. It would take a lot of work to cover it all up, but if Pillow had her heart set on fixing what was broken, chances are it wouldn't take more than a few hours. If all went well she would be back in time to catch the end of the party.

She aimed at the floor.

She breathed in.

She fired.

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