#electronics prep

[e-bird-online]

Series Circuit Question

Question: A series circuit consists of three resistors: R₁ = 5Ω, R₂ = 10Ω, and R₃ = 15Ω. The power supply provides 30V. Find: a) The total resistance in the circuit. b) The current flowing through the circuit. c) The voltage drop across each resistor.

LEARN ABOUT ELECTRINICS CIRCUIT | SOLVE THE PROBLEM EASILY.

[dnaayan-blog]

Important Ohm’s Law Problems for Competitive Exams

A light bulb draws 0.5 A of current when connected to a 120V power source. What is the resistance of the bulb?

Power Calculation Using Ohm’s Law

A circuit has a 12V battery and 3 Ω resistor. Find the power consumed.

GET MORE FREE SOLUTION 👈.

[arkscascade]

One can still find tranquility and charm in such a pouring squall. After all beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. 🤩

[midget98]

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[lonniemichaelfulbright-blog]

The Defender's Chronicle FYI

EMP preparedness: How to protect your electronics By Zoey Sky // Jul 19, 2024 Both non-preppers and preppers often rely on various electronic devices. But there is a potential threat that could render all devices useless in an instant: an electromagnetic pulse (EMP). Before SHTF, learn how to EMP-proof electronics and start a prepping stockpile for your family. Below are some tips on how you…

[kringe]

just over 3 hrs left in my shift dear lord

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #18 死

† procurement †

"Waking up in his bed should feel like victory, but all you can think about are those pill bottles on his nightstand."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 9,5k

content: morning vulnerability and insomnia revelations, elevator sexual tension that goes nowhere, council meeting drama with heated arguments, mission prep with jessi's weapons expertise, undercover outfits that make jeon stare, AD's suspicious surveillance knowledge, and the calm before infiltrating mdf territory

☠ author's note ☠

As a European, I have absolutely no clue about guns so let's hope my research was decent and their weapons actually make sense ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) If any gun enthusiasts are reading this and I've somehow made a sniper rifle that shoots rainbows, just... pretend it's for the plot.

ANYWAY THE BIG DAY IS FINALLY HERE!!! Next chapter is THE MISSION and are we excited??? Because I AMMMMM!!! I've been building up to this for literal months and my chaotic little writer brain is VIBRATING with anticipation!

Jeon + motorbike = HOT AS HELL 🥵 Like sir, you're already dangerous enough, did you really need to add vehicular competence to your list of attractive qualities? RUDE.

Also Jessi is so mother mommy mama I love her! I mean, I say that about every single one of my characters, don't I? But what can I do—they're all so complex in my opinion! I have to really put myself in their position in every single scene and think genuinely about how they would react. Because one thing is how I WANT them to react, and another is how they would REALISTICALLY react, you know? Keeping those two aligned is harder than it looks, trust me!

Anyway ramble ramble ramble shut up Kiki we don't care—I KNOW BUT I'M THE AUTHOR so you're gonna read my rambling because I said so! I don't write 8k words per chapter to have my feelings dismissed! Y'all gonna put up with me whether you like it or not (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

Thanks for reading as always, love y'all! Now buckle up because things are about to get SPICY!

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎.

The obnoxious blaring of Jeon's alarm tears through the quiet morning.

It's 6 AM—that weird time when everything feels kind of hazy and unreal, like the world hasn't quite decided if it's night or day yet.

His phone keeps buzzing against the nightstand, screen lighting up like a strobe light.

You're barely awake, caught in that fuzzy space between sleep and consciousness. Jeon's sprawled half on top of you, which should probably be uncomfortable but... isn't. His arm's thrown over your waist in this weirdly soft way that doesn't match his usual don't-touch-me vibe. You can feel his chest rising and falling against your back, his breath warm on your neck.

For a second, you think about waking him up. But he looks so p̶e̶a̶c̶e̶f̶u̶l̶ different when he's sleeping—none of that cold, distant Chief of Tactical stuff.

Just a guy who really needs some rest.

"Jeon," you try anyway, voice coming out all scratchy from sleep. "Your alarm."

He makes this grunt that might be words but definitely isn't, face pressed against your skin. Instead of getting up, he actually pulls you closer, burying his face in the pillow like if he ignores the alarm hard enough, it'll give up and go away.

"Jeon, come on. Get it." You nudge him with your elbow because that fucking alarm is driving you insane. It just keeps going and going, like some kind of electronic torture device.

He lets out this long-suffering groan that perfectly captures the eternal struggle between wanting to sleep and having actual responsibilities.

His hand flops around looking for his phone, movements all clumsy in that way people only get when they're not really awake yet. When he finally finds it, he misses the screen completely on his first try.

"Fuck off," he mumbles—definitely talking to the phone, not you. The woodsy scent of his skin mixed with mint from his breath fills your lungs.

After what feels like forever (but is probably like, ten seconds), blessed silence falls over the room.

Jeon just tosses his phone somewhere (hopefully not off the bed) and immediately curls back around you like some kind of clingy octopus. His body's radiating heat like a furnace, and he's definitely not planning on letting you go anytime soon.

His aura wraps around you like summer rain, all soft and warm, making your head spin in the best way.

(You're starting to think maybe he's not a morning person.)

"Five more minutes," he mumbles, voice all rough and sleepy like some kid who doesn't want to go to school.

You can't help but smirk.

Who would've thought the terrifying Chief of Tactical was such a baby in the morning?

"Five more minutes, and you'll be the one explaining to the Council why you're late." You poke his side. "Good luck with that."

"What council?" He sounds like he's halfway to dreamland already.

"Council of 9, dumbass. You know, that super important reunion about tonight's mission?"

His only response is this little grunt before his breathing starts evening out again.

Oh no. Not happening.

You kick him under the sheets—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to be annoying. He flinches and makes this annoyed clicking sound with his tongue.

Finally, with this dramatic sigh that you can feel rumble through his chest, he gives in. His body peels away from yours like it's physically painful for him to move.

"Fine, fine," he grumbles, surrendering to reality.

When he sits up, cold air rushes in where his body heat used to be. You both kind of... linger there on the edge of his bed.

You watch him rub his face, trying to wake up properly. It's kind of fascinating, seeing him switch from s̶o̶f̶t̶ sleepy Jungkook back to Jeon, the cold and distant Chief of Tactical.

Another yawn catches you as you sit up, letting the sheets pool around your waist. You blink, trying to clear the sleep from your eyes, when something on Jeon's bedside table catches your attention.

Oh.

There's a whole fucking pharmacy there.

Your eyes scan over the labels—hypnotics, sedatives, tranquilizers, sleeping pills. The kind of cocktail someone needs when sleep doesn't come naturally anymore.

It hits different now, remembering all those times you've seen him in the cafeteria at ass o'clock in the morning. Always with that black coffee, those dark circles under his eyes that you thought were just part of his whole intimidating Chief of Tactical thing.

(Turns out even the great Jeon Jungkook has trouble sleeping.)

You can't help but wonder what keeps him up at night. What kind of memories play on repeat in his head when everything goes quiet.

Sure, being a gang leader comes with its own baggage—the violence, the paranoia, always having to watch your back.

But something tells you there's more to it. Things that left marks deeper than the little scar on his cheek. The kind of stuff that makes someone stock up on enough sedatives to knock out a horse.

Your eyes fix on this one bottle of hypnotics that's already half empty. Something in your chest tightens at the sight, but you quickly squash that feeling down.

The last thing Jeon needs is your p̶i̶t̶y̶ concern.

You know how this works. Show any weakness in Kkangpae, and you might as well paint a target on your back. The gang's full of sharks, always circling, always waiting for someone to bleed in the water.

So you bite back all the questions building up in your throat. Push down that weird urge to reach out, to try and make it better somehow.

Whatever demons Jeon's fighting, they're his to deal with.

You've got your own role to play here, and playing therapist isn't it. Some things just stay broken, and some nights just stay sleepless.

And some things are not yours to fix, even if some part of you wants to.

"You ready?" Jeon asks, already heading for the door without waiting to hear if you actually are.

You follow him out with a quiet sigh, but your mind's still stuck on all those pill bottles.

On what they might mean.

On all the nights he probably spends staring at his ceiling, fighting whatever demons keep him up.

The common areas in his wing of the Assassination Division are empty this early.

Your footsteps echo through the halls as you make your way to the elevator, where Jeon leans against the wall like he's got all day. He crosses his arms over his chest, getting lost in whatever thoughts are running through that complicated head of his.

When he doesn't move to actually do anything, you have to remind him that not everyone has his fancy Chief clearance level.

"You gonna scan your card or what?" You wave vaguely at the scanner. "You know mine won't work up here."

The corner of his mouth twitches up—just barely—like he's annoyed at himself for forgetting.

He pulls out his access card without a word and taps it against the scanner. The light blinks green, and the elevator starts moving.

While you're waiting, your brain decides to dig up this random memory from weeks ago.

That night Jeon showed up at your door out of nowhere, demanding his jacket back. You hadn't thought about it then, but now...

"Hey," you turn to look at him, "how did you get on my floor that night? To get your jacket back?" The question hits you out of nowhere. "Our cards don't work on each other's floors."

His eyes go wide for a split second—clearly not expecting that question. He just stares at you for a moment, lips parted like he's trying to figure out what to say. Then his gaze darts away and he rubs the back of his neck, which is basically a flashing neon sign that says busted.

(This should be interesting.)

"I, uh..." Jeon starts, looking at you then quickly away. He's actually struggling for words, which is new.

His fingers tap against his thigh in this nervous rhythm you've never seen before. Just when you think he's going to leave you hanging, he lets out this tiny sigh, shoulders dropping just a bit.

"I asked AD for temporary access."

Wait. What?

"And he... just gave it to you? Just like that?"

You narrow your eyes because something's not adding up here.

You've seen how these two interact—or don't interact, more like it. The way Jeon basically disappears whenever AD shows up, and how AD looks at him like he's personally offended his entire bloodline.

Sure, AD glares at everyone (especially J-Hope), but with Jeon? That's a whole different level of hate.

(Not that it's any of your business what's going on there.)

"Told him I needed my jacket back."

The elevator keeps moving down, and the silence between you gets kind of heavy. Something about how weirdly hesitant Jeon's being makes your curiosity spike. Part of you knows you should probably drop it, but...

"So, your card worked the whole night?" You try to sound casual about it, but there's definitely some skepticism bleeding through.

"Yeah." He finally meets your eyes again. "Clearance passes usually last for 24 hours."

You nod slowly, filing that information away.

"But didn't AD find it weird? The time stamp would show you came in at 3 AM and didn't leave until..." You trail off, remembering exactly why he stayed so long.

Jeon's eyes snap to yours, and something flashes across his face too quick to read before he looks away. The crease between his brows gets deeper as the silence stretches out.

"I don't think he actually checks the access logs that closely," he says finally. "At least he hasn't mentioned anything about the, uh, timeframe."

You think about that for a second. It seems weird that AD, of all people, wouldn't keep tabs on security access. But maybe Jeon's right—maybe AD doesn't actually monitor that stuff.

Then you remember something.

That day after the pool training, you saw AD in the elevator with Kazuha. He'd told you both to "be careful."

Was that his cryptic way of saying he knew exactly what went down that night?

The elevator dings, cutting through your thoughts.

Jeon pushes off the wall, giving you this little nod to go in first. You step inside, and the last thing you see is his back and this lazy wave goodbye before the doors slide shut.

Anyway, something tells you AD knows way more than he lets on.

You’d never been in The Council room until now.

And it’s… Well, it’s weird. Tense today.

Everyone's taking their usual spots around this stupidly long table, and RM's at the head of it like always, looking every bit the Supreme Commander he is.

"Thanks for coming, everyone." His voice carries that authority that makes even the most stubborn chiefs shut up and listen.

Well, almost everyone.

"I don't even see why I have to be here when you're all so set on leaving me out of it." V's practically radiating annoyance.

Moon gives him that patient look he reserves for when someone's being difficult. "This mission affects the entire gang. That's why we need the whole Council present."

"But I'm not even part of it." V throws his feet up on the table like the dramatic bitch he is, crossing his arms. "So why do I have to sit through all this bullshit?"

"You listen because shared knowledge makes us stronger." RM's eyes sweep around the table, meeting everyone's gaze—even yours. "Unity isn't just about standing together. It's about thinking as one."

V rolls his eyes so hard you're surprised they don't get stuck. "Yeah, yeah, I get the whole 'one gang' thing. But do I really need every fucking detail?"

"Details matter." Jeon's voice cuts through the tension. "MDF isn't some amateur operation. One tiny blind spot and we're fucked."

"It's a goddamn snake pit we're walking into." J-Hope waves his hands around like he's trying to grab invisible dangers out of the air. "We all need to know what kind of poison we might be dealing with."

JM leans forward, all serious despite his usually gentle demeanor. "That hideout's a maze. You two need more than just a way in—you need a solid plan to get the fuck out of there."

"Exactly." RM's sighs. "This intel could change everything. We do this right, we take out one of their major operations."

Flower, who's been watching everything with that calculating look of hers, finally speaks up. "And V, whether you like it or not, this meeting is what keeps your men at the docks from getting caught with their pants down while we're focused on this mission."

V scoffs, but you can see him actually considering her words.

Jessi stops lounging in her chair like this is some kind of casual meetup.

"Alright, cut the bullshit. What's the actual plan here, RM?" She leans forward, all business now. "And it better be good."

The room goes quiet—that heavy kind of quiet that makes your skin prickle.

RM stands up, and you can feel the weight of what's coming.

This isn't just another mission briefing. This is you and Jeon walking straight into MDF territory.

No pressure.

RM clears his throat, looking down at the stack of papers in front of him.

"Here's how it's going to work," he starts, voice authoritative. "Jeon and Y/N are going undercover. We've got IDs that'll get them through MDF's front door."

The word 'undercover' makes your stomach do this weird flip thing. Jeon shifts slightly beside you, his presence weirdly reassuring for someone who's usually about as comforting as a loaded gun.

"They'll play it as traders," RM continues, spreading out this map that looks like someone went crazy with a red marker. "Fresh faces trying to make it big enough to catch MDF's attention."

Jeon nods, watching AD's finger trace some path on the map. "What about their security? Cameras?"

"System loops every three hours," AD says, sounding bored but you know that's just his thing. "We're setting up a distraction. At 23:00, when the loop starts, they'll get a power surge. Six minutes of blind spots."

"Six minutes?" Jessi raises an eyebrow. "That's cutting it real fucking close."

"We can handle it." Jeon sounds so sure it actually makes you believe him. "Had worse timeframes before."

"That's your window to find the server room and plant the bug." RM points to some spot deep in what looks like a maze. "AD will be in your ear the whole time."

"And when shit inevitably goes sideways?" V asks, and despite how pissy he's been about being left out, you can hear actual braincells there.

"You'll be armed," RM says simply. "But this is about getting in and out quiet. No firefights."

"Right, because stealth missions should totally go to Mr. Shoot-Everything-From-A-Mile-Away instead of, oh, I don't know, the actual Chief of Stealth?" V's voice drips sarcasm.

"V." JM's cuts in. "Enough."

V grunts but actually shuts up, which is kind of impressive. You've never seen anyone else get him to back down that easily.

Flower leans forward, and the room suddenly feels a bit colder. The map spread out on the table looks like some kind of twisted treasure map, except instead of X marking the spot, there's about fifty different ways this whole thing could go wrong.

"Alright, here's the deal," she says, getting straight to the point like always. "You need to be interesting enough to catch their attention, but not so interesting they get suspicious. Think you can handle that?"

She looks right at you, and you can feel the weight of what she's asking.

"Y/N, you're our front person here. While everyone's busy watching you sweet-talk them about money and deals, Jeon's gonna be doing the actual work." Her lips curve into this knowing smile. "Keep them focused on the profit. Rich assholes love talking about money."

Great. No pressure or anything. Just gotta be charming enough to distract an entire criminal organization while your... whatever Jeon is sneaks around their base. Easy peasy.

Flower turns to Jeon next, and her expression goes all business.

"You're playing backup dancer on this one. Stay in the background, watch everything, and when AD hits them with that power surge? That's your window. Get the bug planted without anyone noticing."

The room goes quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Everyone's thinking the same thing—one tiny mistake and this whole plan goes up in smoke.

"Remember," Flower says, voice serious, "this isn't about showing off. It's about getting in, getting it done, and getting out without anyone realizing what happened."

"And more importantly," RM cuts in, giving you and Jeon a look, "don't fucking die. The intel's not worth either of you."

"What about communication?" you ask, because there's one pretty big hole in this plan. "We can't exactly text each other in there."

"Subvocals," AD doesn't look up from his laptop, but his voice carries that bored confidence that means he knows exactly what he's talking about. "Basically fancy mics that pick up whispers. We'll hear everything, but you two can talk without anyone else noticing. Plus, we'll feed you intel as we get it. Just keep it quiet and you'll be fine."

V lets out this little laugh, eyes twinkling like he knows something no one else does. "Sure putting a lot of faith in luck here, aren't we?"

"Luck's got nothing to do with it." RM's interjects. "This is about being prepared, being skilled, and getting shit done. Don't forget who we are. What Kkangpae stands for."

The room goes quiet again. Then, he continues speaking:

"Once you get that bug planted and grab whatever intel you can, you get out. We're not starting a war. Not yet."

Then Jeon turns to look at you, all Chief-of-Tactical mode.

Stormy.

"We split up as soon as we're inside," he says, voice gone all hard and professional. "Cover more ground, draw less attention."

"Yeah, no." You don't even hesitate to shut that down. The plan's crystal clear in your head. "We stick together, follow the script. Only split when the power goes out. That's the signal."

He scoffs—actually scoffs—and crosses his arms. "You really think playing follow-the-leader's gonna work that long? We're wasting time the second we walk in. Better to improvise early."

"We're not there to improvise," you snap back, getting annoyed now. The air's starting to feel like a brewing thunderstorm. "We have a plan for a fucking reason, Jeon. The power surge is our cover. Until then, you're stuck with me."

His jaw does that tightening thing it does when someone challenges him.

Chief or not, you're not backing down on this.

"A package deal that screams 'we're obviously here to fuck shit up'." He's practically radiating frustration. "Splitting up makes more sense. It's tactical."

"It's reckless," you cut in, meeting his intensity head-on. "Since when do we pick 'making sense' over actually being smart about this? We split up before the power cut, and we're basically painting targets on our backs."

You can feel everyone in the room watching this verbal sparring match in slight disbelief.

"You're not fucking listening—" Jeon leans into your space.

"Because what you're saying is bullshit," you snap back, refusing to be intimidated even though he's practically looming over you. "We go in toge—"

"Too risky. We split up, maximize our—"

"—chances of getting our asses caught!" You talk right over him, blood rushing hot in your veins. "We stick to the fucking pla—"

"Which is basically asking to get pinched if we're joined at the hip," he fires back, and god, his voice shouldn't sound that hot when he's being this infuriating.

"Oh, and you think going rogue is the ans—"

"It's called thinking on your feet, sunshine. Maybe try it some—"

"Save the condescending shit," you cut in, sharp enough to draw blood. "We're not there to show—"

"—that we're fucking amateurs!" He's almost growling now, and the sound does things to you that you really don't want to examine.

Your voices keep rising, cutting each other off in this heated back-and-forth that's starting to feel less like an argument and more like foreplay.

"Enough." RM's voice drops like a bucket of cold water.

You and Jeon both shut up instantly, turning to face him like scolded kids.

The whole room goes dead quiet, everyone waiting to see how the Supreme Commander's going to handle this.

"Y/N's right," RM cuts in, voice carrying that don't-fuck-with-me tone whilst his eyes bounce between you and Jeon as he speaks. "We made this plan accounting for every possible fuck-up. You go in together, no improvising. The power surge is your cue. Until then, you're just a couple of traders looking to make a deal. We can't afford any slip-ups."

The way he says it leaves no room for argument. You can see Jeon's shoulders drop just a tiny bit, like he's accepting defeat but doesn't want to show it.

"Got it," you nod, trying to look all professional and shit.

Like you didn't just get into a verbal sparring match with your Chief in front of the whole Council.

Jeon takes a second, then gives this little nod that looks like it physically pains him.

"Understood," he echoes, finally looking at you.

And so there’s this weird moment where you're both just... staring at each other; as if calling a truce without actually saying anything.

As RM dismisses everyone, you feel that rush of adrenaline from arguing start to fade. Your shoulders relax, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

Right. This whole mission is riding on you and Jeon not fucking it up by going off-script.

You can feel Jeon next to you, his whole vibe changing. He's still got that unreadable expression, but he doesn't look ready to fight anymore.

Before you can make your grand exit, Jessi's voice cuts through the room, making both of you plant your feet on the ground.

"Don't worry, you two. All that sexual tension will make for some hot angry fucking after the mission." She winks at you both like she just said something clever instead of mortifying.

"That's not—we're not—" You start sputtering like an idiot, feeling your face go red.

"Ridiculous," Jeon snaps at the same time, scowling like Jessi just insulted his sniper skills or something.

Jessi just smirks, looking way too pleased with herself. "Whatever you say, lovebirds. Just come by my division after lunch. Gotta get you kitted out for this little adventure."

You open your mouth to tell her exactly where she can shove her assumptions, but she keeps talking.

"AD's gonna set up your access, so don't be late!" And with that, she struts out of the room like she owns the place.

You take a deep breath, trying to get your shit together.

Without a word, you and Jeon turn to leave.

There's still a ton of prep to do for this mission, and you'd rather face MDF unarmed than spend another second in this room with everyone's eyes on you.

The elevator feels way too empty when it’s only you and Jeon in it.

Trapped in a metal box after whatever that disaster of a Council meeting was.

The silence feels heavy, like all that heated arguing is still buzzing in the air.

You stand there trying to look casual, watching the floor numbers tick down like they're the most interesting thing you've ever seen.

But you can't help noticing how Jeon's jaw is doing that clenching thing again, his lips pressed together so tight they're practically disappearing. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and his whole body's radiating tension like a coiled spring.

The silence is driving you insane.

So of course, before your brain can stop your mouth, you blurt out: "Just so we're clear, we are not having hot angry sex after this mission."

Great going girl. 10/10.

Jeon's head snaps toward you so fast you're worried he might get whiplash. One eyebrow shoots up in surprise, but then—oh—his expression shifts into that infuriating smirk.

"Aw, you sound disappointed," he says, voice dropping into that low, teasing register that definitely doesn't make your stomach flip.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as dramatically as possible. "Yeah, like I was last night."

"Excuse me?" The look of pure indignation on his face is actually priceless. "Pretty sure I had you begging."

"Begging?" You let out a laugh. "More like pointing out how fucking slow you were being."

You're going for casual disinterest, but the memories from last night keep trying to make your face heat up.

He actually laughs at that—this sharp, sudden sound that bounces off the elevator walls.

"Oh, is that what we're calling it now? Because I remember it more like... payback. For all that teasing." His eyes drop to your ass for a second. "Bending over until I couldn't take it anymore..."

You cross your arms, leaning back against the wall like this conversation isn't affecting you at all.

"That wasn't teasing. That was strategic mission preparation." You can't help the sly smile that creeps onto your face. "Besides, you're the one who changed the sleeping arrangement to fucking."

"A strategic move, huh?" His mouth does that little twitch that means he's trying not to smile. "Well, it fucking worked."

"Yeah, you broke so easily." You roll your eyes, but you can feel yourself starting to smile too. "Just for sex"

"Pretty damn good sex, if I might add." He says it like he's stating the weather, but that smirk is getting bigger.

Before you can even process what's happening, his hand shoots out to the elevator panel. The emergency stop button makes this loud clicking sound, and the whole thing jerks to a halt with this deep rumble that you feel in your bones.

Suddenly the space feels way too small, and all you can hear is your own breathing getting heavier.

Yeah. Yeah, he’s stopped the fucking elevator.

"What the actual fuck, Jeon?" You try to sound annoyed, but the words get stuck in your throat because he's moving into your space like he owns it, like he has every right to be this close.

Then you're trapped between his arms and the cold elevator wall, and fuck—the way he's looking at you makes you feel naked already.

Your heart's going crazy in your chest, completely betraying how irritated you're pretending to be. Heat starts pooling between your legs, and it's honestly embarrassing how quickly your body responds to him.

"We can't—" Your voice comes out all breathy and pathetic. "We can't do this here."

The smile he gives you is pure sin as he leans in closer, close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, static wrapping around you, making it hard to think straight.

"Why not?"

"Because we're in a fucking elevator—"

"No cameras." He cuts you off like he's been waiting for this excuse.

You try to swallow but your throat's gone dry. Your sling feels itchy against your skin, probably because your whole body's remembering what happened last night.

"People are gonna notice if the elevator's stuck—"

"Maintenance issue." He says it so fast you know he's thought about this before.

"Jeon—" You start to argue, but then his eyes drop to your mouth and your brain just... stops working.

You know you should push him away. That's what any sane person would do. But there's something about Jeon that makes your brain stop working right—like a magnet pulling you in no matter how hard you try to resist. Every cell in your body is screaming at you to just grab him and kiss him already.

Right when you're about to say fuck it and give in, he pulls back.

And the look in his eyes? Pure evil, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Sunshine," he practically purrs, voice gone all low and rough in a way that makes heat pool in your stomach, "you're too eager."

The elevator dings, saving you from doing something stupid.

He steps out onto his floor without another word, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face like he just won something.

You slump against the wall the second the doors close, letting out this huge breath you didn't even realize you were holding

As the elevator keeps moving, the whole thing feels kind of surreal—like maybe you imagined him pressing you up against the wall and looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

But the way your skin's still tingling tells you it definitely happened.

When the doors open on your floor, it's like stepping back into the real world.

One where you need to figure out what the hell to tell Yunjin about where you've been all night. She's way too perceptive for her own good, and she definitely noticed you didn't come to your room to sleep.

You walk to your room trying to come up with something believable.

Maybe you were up all night studying mission plans? Or got restless and went wandering around the common areas?

Your brain's still kind of fuzzy from having Jeon all up in your space, which isn't helping with the whole creative lying thing.

But when you push open your door, Yunjin spins around like she's been caught doing something wrong. Her eyes are all wide and guilty, and before you can even open your mouth to make up some excuse about where you've been, she starts talking.

"Okay, before you give me shit for not sleeping here last night—" The words come tumbling out of her like she can't get them out fast enough. "You won't believe what happened. I was just gonna have a few drinks with V, you know, just to chill..."

Well. You surely didn't expect that.

You stand there trying to process the flood of information Yunjin's dumping on you. She's so caught up in her story she doesn't even notice your brain short-circuiting.

"And I know we said to stay away from V's whole... thing, but fuck—" She's practically vibrating with excitement. "We've been dancing around each other for weeks, and last night was just—"

"Yunjin, hold up." You raise a hand to stop her word-vomit. "Are you telling me you spent the night with V? Like, you and V actually—"

You don't finish the sentence because honestly, you don't need to. The implication is heavy enough to sink a ship.

She bites her lip and nods, looking somewhere between guilty and smug.

"Yeah, we fucked..." Her voice trails off before picking right back up. "And let me tell you, it was good. Like, he's not even into all that scary shit everyone thinks he is? But his chaotic energy definitely carries over to bed, god, if you only knew—"

You can't help the snort spreading across your face.

Here you were worrying about how to explain your own night away, and Yunjin's gone and done the exact same thing.

There's something kind of poetic about both of you getting tangled up with people you definitely shouldn't be touching.

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. "Okay, spare me the details. But I'm glad you had fun with your psychopath."

"It was actually really nice?" She's got this dreamy look that would be cute if she wasn't talking about the gang's resident knife enthusiast. "I know we said getting involved with him was a bad idea, but..."

She shrugs, looking almost shy.

"Sometimes you can't help who you want to climb like a tree."

You nod because fuck—isn't that the truth? Your body's still kind of sore from climbing your own dangerous tree last night.

Quick thinking has you saying, "I had an early Council meeting about the mission."

It's not exactly a lie. You did have a meeting. The fact that you came straight from Jeon's bed to it is just... details.

Yunjin seems to buy it, but then her eyes narrow and this little smirk appears on her face.

"Speaking of details... that shirt looks a bit big on you." She eyes the obviously oversized fabric. "Almost like it belongs to someone else. Someone tall, maybe? Tattooed?"

Heat creeps up your neck as you tug at the shirt that definitely belongs to Jeon.

"It's just comfortable," you mutter, but even you don't believe that weak excuse.

"Sure it is." Yunjin's laugh is rather a sneer. "Tell Jeon I said hi."

She throws you a wink and you roll your eyes, but you can't quite fight the smile tugging at your lips.

At least you're not the only one fucking a chief.

The scanner actually flashes green when you swipe your card, which is weird.

Usually you only get access to the Seduction floor and common areas, but apparently Jessi wasn't kidding about AD setting up clearance to her realm for you.

You hit the button for the 9th floor and watch the numbers tick up.

The doors slide open to a completely different vibe from what you're used to.

Gone is all that minimalist tech stuff from AD's floor or the sterile efficiency of Assassination.

The Weapons Division looks exactly like what it is—a place that deals in death. The lights are dim, pipes running everywhere like exposed veins, and the floor's just straight-up concrete. No fancy finishes here.

You've maybe been here like, three times? And every visit feels like stepping into some alternate universe inside Kkangpae's castle. The contrast between this and your division's sleek aesthetic is wild.

"Well, well, look who we have here!"

The voice booms through the hallway, making you jump.

You turn to find this huge guy with a green mullet heading your way, covered in neck tattoos that probably tell some interesting stories. You're pretty sure his name is Jae? He's Jessi's second-in-command, but you've barely exchanged two words with him before.

Not that you'd know it from how he grins at you like you're old friends.

"Jessi's waiting on you," he says, slapping your back hard enough to make you stumble forward. (What is it with these Weapons Division people and casual violence?) "Come on, can't keep the boss lady hanging."

You follow Mullet Man through these massive double doors and holy shit—the weapons depot is huge. The ceiling's so high it's got actual walkways crisscrossing it, leading to what looks like storage units. Every table is packed with enough firepower to start a small war: rifles, handguns, knives, stuff you don't even have names for.

Jessi's off to one side, checking out this fancy-looking automatic rifle like she's shopping for groceries. Her fiery aura fills the space with heating energy.

When she spots you, those red lips curl into this knowing smirk that makes you kind of nervous.

"Right on time," she says, putting down the gun like it's no big deal. "Now we just gotta wait for lover boy to complete the set."

Jae throws up this exaggerated salute and swaggers off, leaving you perched on a nearby stool while Jessi's aura dances around like actual flames.

Jessi leans back against one of the weapon-covered tables, arms crossed and this knowing look in her eyes that makes you kind of nervous.

"That was quite the show this morning. Never seen Jeon actually engage like that before."

"What do you mean?" You frown, thinking about how often Jeon and V are at each other's throats. "He fights with V all the time."

"Nah, that's different." She shakes her head, red hair swaying. "When he fights with V, it's all explosions and death threats. Pure chaos."

Her hands make this exaggerated boom motion.

"But this morning? That was like... verbal foreplay. He was actually in there with you, giving as good as he got."

You think about that for a second.

Now that she mentions it, Jeon does usually just... shut down when other people try to argue with him. Goes all cold and distant, like he can't be bothered to even engage.

But this morning he was right there with you, matching your energy blow for blow.

"Huh." The realization hits you harder than it probably should. "He's not usually much for back-and-forth, is he?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Jessi looks way too pleased with herself. "That emotionally constipated asshole usually keeps everyone at a distance. But you?" She wiggles her eyebrows in this ridiculous way. "Something's different..."

Your face heats up because fuck—she's not wrong. But you are absolutely not having this conversation right now.

"So anyway," you say quickly, probably not as smooth as you think, "what kind of gear are we talking about here?"

Jessi's smirk says she knows exactly what you're doing, but she lets it slide.

Instead, she turns to this impressive spread of weapons and gadgets laid out on the table. Some of them look deadly enough to make you nervous just looking at them.

"Only the best for our star infiltration team," she says, sounding like a proud mom showing off her kid's artwork. "Let's talk comm units first..."

Then, you catch it.

That woodsy, pine scent that clings to him like his leather jacket.

You don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him.

Jeon appears in the doorway looking unfairly good in his all-black everything, like some kind of high-fashion assassin.

When his eyes find you and Jessi, one eyebrow goes up.

"Starting without me?" His voice is dry as desert.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Jessi's teasing, but then her expression turns into something more devious. "I was just telling your partner here how I've never seen you get so fired up before. Something about her really pushes your buttons, huh?"

You kind of want to melt into the concrete floor. Leave it to Jessi to stir shit up just because she can.

But Jeon just shrugs, cool as ever.

"Just discussing strategy." His voice gives absolutely nothing away, which is honestly impressive considering how heated he got earlier.

Jessi looks kind of disappointed that she couldn't get a reaction out of him. Classic Jeon, refusing to take the bait. She lets out this dramatic sigh and turns back to all the gear spread out on the table.

"Well, now that his highness has graced us with his presence," she says, standing up with that natural grace she has, "let's get you both looking the part. Can't have you walking into MDF territory looking like gang members, can we?"

You follow her through the rows of weapons and equipment. It's kind of amazing how she knows exactly where everything is in this massive space. Her energy is contagious—she's clearly in her element here, surrounded by all these tools of destruction.

The weapons depot starts feeling less like an armory and more like some underground fashion studio as you walk deeper in.

Because of course, procurement doesn’t only mean weapons and human resource.

Apparently, it also means Jessi has a pass to turn a room full of deadly weapons into her personal styling space.

There's this sectioned-off area that looks like a makeshift dressing room, complete with different fabrics hanging everywhere.

"Over here, Jeon." Jessi's voice has that tone that means she's already planning something. She looks him up and down like she's mentally redesigning his whole outfit.

Jeon follows her, trying to look like he's not into it, but you can see the interest in his eyes. You hang back a bit, kind of enjoying watching him get the Jessi treatment.

Jessi starts pulling stuff from these racks that look like someone couldn't decide if they were making tactical gear or runway fashion. Every piece somehow manages to be both bulletproof and stupidly stylish.

First up for Jeon: this black suit that catches the light in a way that's definitely not standard issue.

"Put this on," she tells him, shoving the suit in his hands. "It's reinforced—won't stop a bullet, but a knife won't get through."

He disappears behind this makeshift changing screen, and you're definitely not counting the seconds until he comes back out.

When he does, though... fuck.

The suit fits him like it was painted on, showing off all those muscles you're way too familiar with now. The jacket makes his shoulders look even broader, and the pants are doing criminal things to his legs. He looks like he walked straight out of some high-end assassin movie.

"You could probably kill someone just by walking into a room looking like that," you say before you can stop yourself. Your voice definitely doesn't sound as casual as you meant it to.

The smug bastard actually smirks at that. "Wouldn't be the first time."

But Jessi's not having it. She shakes her head, looking at him like an artist who's not quite happy with their work.

"Too polished. We need dangerous, not James Bond. Try this instead."

She pulls out this whole new look: leather jacket that probably costs more than anything you own (which is not much), deep maroon shirt that's somehow both simple and expensive-looking, and black jeans that you just know are going to be trouble.

When he steps out this time, his whole aura shifts.

The leather sits on his shoulders like it belongs there, and that hint of maroon under all the black just... works.

He looks like someone who could sweet-talk his way into a deal and then burn the whole place down if it goes wrong.

"Now that's more like it," Jessi says, looking satisfied. "Says 'I do business, but I also do crime' in all the right ways."

You find yourself nodding along because damn.

He looks exactly like what a high-level arms dealer should look—dangerous enough to take seriously, stylish enough to have clearly made money doing it.

Jeon catches you staring and raises an eyebrow, like he's asking what you think. You give him a small nod because what else can you do? He looks f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ good.

Really good.

Jessi rummages through another rack and pulls out this long-sleeved black shirt.

"Here, put this under the jacket. The fabric's breathable but bulletproof-adjacent. Won't stop a direct hit, but it'll give you a fighting chance."

Jeon shrugs off the leather jacket and slips the shirt on. It's thin but looks sturdy—perfect for someone who might need to move fast or fight their way out of trouble.

Jessi finally steps back, eyeing him like she's inspecting a weapon.

"Not bad. Looks casual enough that no one'll think twice, but you can actually move in it." She hands him back the leather jacket. "Try it all together."

You try to look professional while he puts the jacket back on over the maroon shirt and black base layer, but fuck—the whole ensemble is perfect.

The layers somehow make him look even more dangerous, like he could either charm you or kill you and you wouldn't know which until it was too late.

While Jeon and Jessi get into some deep discussion about fabric weights and mobility ranges, you're kind of amazed at how much thought goes into this.

It's not just picking out nice clothes—every piece has to tell the right story without saying a word.

One wrong detail and the whole cover's blown.

The attention to detail is actually impressive. Jessi knows exactly how to make someone look dangerous but approachable, wealthy but not flashy.

In this world, the wrong outfit can get you killed as quick as the wrong word.

You watch them fine-tune every detail, fascinated by how each adjustment shapes the character Jeon's going to play. And then… The final touch.This plain black watch that probably has fifteen different ways to kill someone. Jeon checks it over with that focused look he gets when he's handling weapons.

"Nice," is all he says, strapping it on.

Standing there in his perfectly crafted outfit, Jeon looks like he was born to play this role. Then Jessi turns to you with this wicked gleam in her eyes that makes your stomach drop.

"Your turn, beautiful," she says, gesturing at another rack of clothes. "Let's make you look expensive but deadly."

Something tells you this is going to be way more complicated than just picking out a nice dress.

You step forward to check out what Jessi's picked out, and damn—she really knows what she's doing. Every piece looks like it was chosen to tell a specific story about who you're supposed to be for this mission.

First up is this skin-tight dress that practically screams ‘honey trap.’ Jessi takes one look and tosses it aside with a muttered "too fucking obvious."

Then there's this whole secretary fantasy thing with a high-necked blouse and pencil skirt, but that gets vetoed too. ("Can't fight for shit in that.")

Then she hands you this black button-up that feels expensive as hell, paired with these tailored pants that feel way too nice to the touch. The fabric's got that perfect balance—soft enough to feel good but sturdy enough to take a beating if things go south.

When you slip into it, something shifts. The shirt fits in all the right places, making you feel d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶o̶u̶s̶ powerful. And the pants? They let you move like you might need to throw down at any second, which, considering it's MDF territory you're heading into, isn't exactly unlikely.

You step out to get Jessi's opinion.

And catch Jeon straight-up staring at your ass.

You’re not surprised.

When you meet his eyes, he looks away so fast it's actually kind of funny, pressing his lips together like he's trying not to smile. He looks like a kid who just got caught stealing cookies, and something about that expression makes you bite back a smile of your own.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Jessi says, looking you over with that critical eye of hers. "You look like someone who could either make a deal or break some kneecaps. Perfect."

The outfit's actually making you feel kind of invincible. (The fact that it got Mr. Perfect Sniper all flustered doesn't hurt either.) You do a little turn, testing how it moves. Everything feels right—professional enough to be taken seriously, but with enough edge to remind people you're not someone to fuck with.

"Hold up," Jessi says suddenly, her eyes getting that dangerous glint that usually means trouble. "Got one more thing. Don't move."

She strides off into her weapons paradise, leaving you standing there wondering what else she could possibly have planned.

You definitely don't check if Jeon's still watching.

(Okay, that's a lie. You totally do.)

The button-up fits you like it was made for you—professional enough to command respect but with just enough something to make heads turn. You're fiddling with the collar when you notice it's buttoned kind of low. Like, maybe too low for a serious arms deal. But before you can decide whether to fix it, Jeon's suddenly right there in your space.

"Let me," he says, voice gone all low and rough (molten lava in your stomach)

His fingers brush against your skin as he does up that one button over your chest, and fuck—that tiny touch has your brain stuttering a bit.

Probably because your body remembers what those fingers can do.

When you look up at him (because of course he's using his height to loom over you like the smug bastard he is), his eyes are dark enough to drown in.

The little gleam swimming in them tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you say, trying to sound annoyed even though you can feel yourself starting to smile.

"Immensely." He says; and his voice is pure sin wrapped in amusement.

He just keeps staring at you with this intensity that makes it hard to breathe, like he's thinking about all the ways he could mess up your perfectly put-together outfit.

Then Jessi bursts back in, completely ruining the moment.

"Found it!" She's waving around this black blazer like she just discovered buried treasure.

Jeon steps back, but not before giving you one last look that promises later. That little smirk is still playing on his lips as Jessi throws the blazer over your shoulders like she's putting the final touch on a masterpiece.

While Jessi goes over the tech specs of your gear, you sneak another look at Jeon. That heated playfulness from earlier is gone, replaced by that laser-focused look he gets when he's in Chief mode.

But there's still this... tension hanging in the air between you, like neither of you has quite forgotten what almost happened in that elevator.

Jessi then looks you both up and down with this satisfied smirk, like an artist admiring her masterpiece.

You have to admit, she knows what she's doing—the outfits are perfect for your cover, walking that line between dangerous and professional.

"Now for the fun part," she says, suddenly all business. "Let's get you two properly armed."

She leads you deeper into her weapons paradise, stopping at what looks like a plain wall. But when she presses her hand against this hidden scanner, the whole thing comes alive with soft beeps and whirs. A keypad appears, and Jessi punches in some code faster than you can follow.

The wall basically transforms, splitting open to reveal these massive hidden cabinets that look straight out of a spy movie.

Inside is enough firepower to start (or end) a small war, all arranged with the kind of precision that would make Jeon proud.

You've seen weapons before—kind of comes with the whole gang thing—but this is different.

Every gun, knife, and thing-you-don't-even-have-a-name-for gleams under the lights like they're on display in some very deadly museum.

"For when things get up close and personal," Jessi says, picking up this compact black handgun, "you'll want this beauty."

She hands you a Glock 26, and fuck—it's heavier than it looks.

"Small enough to hide, big enough to make someone regret their life choices."

Then she turns to Jeon with a different gun. "You get the Sig P226. More range, more punch. You can hang back and give her cover while she works her magic up close."

Jeon takes the gun and with a flick of his wrist, he expertly checks the chamber and magazine. You can't understand why your brain thinks that's hot, but the little nod he gives tells you Jessi picked right.

She keeps pulling out more gear—silencers that look way too professional, extra magazines, these holsters that probably cost more than your monthly pay. Then come the knives, small enough to hide pretty much anywhere but sharp enough to make you nervous just looking at them.

Jessi's whole vibe changes as she finishes arming you up. "These aren't just fancy accessories. Every time you pull one of these, you're making a choice that could end someone—maybe even yourself."

The weight of what she's saying hits different when you're actually holding deadly weapons. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you can tell she's trusting you not to fuck this up.

"One more thing," she says, pulling this fancy-looking gadget from a drawer. "Multi-tool kit. Has everything from basic lock picks to a mini torch. Trust me, you'll want options when shit hits the fan."

She hands it to Jeon, who clips it to his belt with practiced ease. (Of course he knows exactly what to do with it—guy probably has a whole collection of spy gear at home.)

Jessi takes a step back, giving you both this final once-over that feels kind of like a proud mom sending her kids off to prom.

(If prom involved infiltrating a rival gang's hideout.)

"You're good to go. Just remember—get in, do the job, get out. Don't try to be heroes."

Her words stick with you as you follow her out of the weapons room.

You walk through another set of doors to find a…

Holy shit. The garage is massive.

It's like walking into some billionaire's private car collection, except every vehicle probably has hidden gun compartments or something.

So Jessi's definitely got a thing for cars. There's everything from flashy Lamborghinis to those huge Bentleys that scream ‘I’m rich and probably dangerous.’ Motorcycles, sports cars, even some vehicles that look straight-up bulletproof—all lined up like some very deadly candy shop.

You're starting to think maybe the weapons aren't even Jessi's favorite toys.

Jessi leads you through her collection of cars like a proud mom showing off her kids' trophies. She stops at this black Lamborghini that looks expensive enough to make your eyes water. The lights bounce off its surface like it's made of pure money.

"This baby right here?" She runs her hand over the hood like she's petting a cat. "Zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds. Makes people's heads turn so fast they get whiplash."

Then she drags you over to this Bentley that screams old money.

"And this beauty? When you need people to think you've got more dollars than sense." The inside looks like someone skinned a whole herd of very expensive cows and covered it in fancy wood.

"We're taking my bike."

Jeon's voice cuts through Jessi's car tour sharply.

He says it like it's already decided, which—knowing him—it probably is.

Jessi whips around to look at him, and fuck—her fiery aura actually flares up like she's about to burst into flames.

"Are you kidding me? Look at these beauties!" She waves at her collection. "They're begging for some action!"

But Jeon just shakes his head. "Bike's more maneuverable. Better control. Makes more sense for what we need."

"Ugh, fine." Jessi throws one last longing look at the Lamborghini like she's saying goodbye to a child. "But I swear to god, one of these days I'm getting your ass in one of these cars."

The little smirk Jeon gives her actually looks kind of fond. "Keep dreaming."

So you follow him to another part of the garage where his bike's parked.

It's this sleek, black monster of a machine that somehow manages to look both subtle and dangerous—kind of like its owner. The thing practically radiates power, but in that quiet way that says it doesn't need to show off.

Jessi watches Jeon check over the bike with this resigned look.

He runs his hands over the handlebars, checking everything with the kind of attention to detail you'd expect from someone who regularly makes impossible shots from a mile away.

"At least you take care of my presents," she mutters, but there's no real heat in it.

Jeon just nods, swinging his leg over the bike like he was born to ride it. When he turns to look at you, his face has gone all serious again.

"You good?"

You nod, feeling your heart start picking up speed.

This is really happening.

Jessi steps back, smiles, and then just waves you two off, not before adding something else.

"Watch your asses out there. And remember—you need backup, we're just a call away."

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[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Movie Night Massacre

bob floyd x fem!reader

Bob Floyd had always liked mornings with her.

Not the ones that started at 0400 with mission briefings and burnt base coffee. No, the real mornings—lazy, warm ones like this. Saturday sun filtering through the curtains. Her head on his chest. Her fingers drumming absently along the soft cotton of his T-shirt. And best of all? No alarms. No helmets. Just him and Y/N, tangled up under the sheets with nowhere to be for a few precious hours.

Until she suddenly sat up and said, “We forgot the brownie mix.”

Bob blinked. “…What?”

“For game night.” She was already climbing out of bed in one of his oversized Navy t-shirts. “We said we’d make cookies and brownies from scratch. We have nothing. No flour. No sugar. No butter. Nada.”

Bob sat up, rubbing his eyes. “We’re hosting in like eight hours.”

“Exactly,” she called from the bathroom. “We need to get moving. Come on, I want the good chocolate chips this time—not the sad store brand ones that taste like disappointment.”

———

Bob pushed the cart. Y/N loaded it like she was prepping for a bake sale and a full-blown dessert war.

“Okay, flour… sugar… brown sugar… butter…” she muttered, tossing each into the cart. “Do we have vanilla extract at home?”

Bob thought for a second. “We used it all when you made those lemon cookies.”

“I made those two months ago.”

“Yeah. They were good.”

She gave him a look and tossed two bottles into the cart. “Just in case.”

They turned the corner into the candy aisle and Bob paused beside the baking chocolate.

“Do we need cocoa powder too?”

Y/N smirked. “Look at you, getting all chef-y.”

He blushed and ducked his head. “I like when you get all excited about baking.”

She leaned over the cart, chin on her arms, watching him pick out ingredients with way too much concentration. “You’re cute when you take dessert this seriously.”

“You’re cute all the time,” he murmured without thinking.

She blinked. “Did you just flirt with me in front of the Nestlé Toll House chips?”

“Absolutely.”

———

They weren’t supposed to stop here.

They were just going to the store for baking stuff. That was the whole plan. But Y/N had spotted the tiny corner DVD shop on the way back and dragged Bob in “just for five minutes,” which Bob knew translated to thirty minutes minimum and at least one Regency Romance DVD purchase.

“Okay but listen,” Y/N said, holding up a copy of The Proposal. “Betty White, Ryan Reynolds, Sandra Bullock, a fake engagement—this is cinema.”

Bob squinted at the back. “Didn’t you already own this?”

“I lent it to Phoenix and never got it back.”

He handed her a second DVD—Remember the Titans. “Should we get something for the squad? Something safe? Hangman said if we picked anything emotional again, he’d walk.”

Y/N raised a brow. “He cried during The Notebook. His opinion is invalid.”

———

Music played low in the background—Taylor Swift, of course. Y/N danced around the kitchen in socks and a sports bra while Bob carefully measured flour into two mixing bowls.

“Cookies or brownies first?” she asked, licking brownie batter off her finger.

“Cookies. Brownies need to cool longer.”

She grinned at him. “You’ve learned well, padawan.”

“I had a good teacher,” Bob said, stepping behind her to press a kiss to her neck. “Also, I didn’t know the right way to separate eggs until you literally smacked one out of my hand and said ‘NO.’”

Y/N shrugged. “Tough love builds character.”

The oven preheated. The kitchen slowly filled with the scent of vanilla and chocolate. Outside, the sun drifted through the windows like melted gold. Bob leaned back against the counter, watching her hum along to the music, her cheeks pink with heat and happiness.

This was what peace looked like.

Cookies in the oven. Brownies prepped. And a stack of DVDs waiting for chaos.

“Remind me again,” Y/N said, brushing flour off her nose, “why we ever let Fanboy near our electronics?”

Bob sighed. “Because the last time we told him no, he called us communists.”

“Right. And because you’re too nice to say no to anyone.”

Bob smiled. “That too.”

——

By the time the doorbell rang, the kitchen was a war zone.

Frosting smeared across the counter. Mixing bowls in the sink. A chocolate chip lodged in Bob’s hair that Y/N kept refusing to point out because “it’s cute.”

But the desserts? Perfect.

“I swear, if Hangman says anything about my brownies being dry again,” Y/N muttered, smoothing the top layer with a spatula, “I’m throwing them at him.”

Bob chuckled. “He’s just mad yours are better than his mom’s.”

“I know they are.”

The doorbell rang again—longer this time.

Y/N wiped her hands on a towel. “Fanboy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because only Fanboy rings like the FBI’s about to kick the door in.”

⸻

Sure enough, Fanboy and Payback were waiting outside with three board games, a six-pack, and a pizza box already missing a slice.

“You’re early,” Bob said as he let them in.

“You’re welcome,” Fanboy grinned. “We wanted to beat Hangman to the good snacks.”

“We are the good snacks,” Y/N said, stealing a slice of pizza. “Make yourselves at home.”

Within twenty minutes, the living room looked like a college dorm.

Cards, empty soda cans, stacks of DVDs, and a very aggressive game of Uno already brewing on the coffee table. Phoenix arrived next, flinging her jacket over the couch and heading straight for the kitchen.

“Do I smell brownies?”

“You smell victory,” Y/N said, handing her one. “They’re still warm. Frosted too.”

Phoenix took a bite and made a sound that was definitely not safe for public spaces. “Okay. If hosting comes with this kind of dessert, you’re doing it every week.”

“Not a chance,” Bob laughed. “Next week’s Maverick’s turn. He already threatened us with Top Gun trivia.”

“Oh god, I’m calling out sick.”

⸻

By 6:00 PM, the whole squad had arrived.

Maverick with a six-pack and popcorn. Coyote with margarita mix. Rooster brought his guitar and swore he wouldn’t play it (he absolutely would). And finally—late as usual—Hangman waltzed in wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt like he was on spring break.

“I’m here,” he announced. “Start clapping.”

“You’re two hours late,” Phoenix deadpanned.

“And still the best looking one here,” he said, finger-gunning at Bob. “Except for Floyd, apparently. I heard he’s a monster in the kitchen. Can’t wait to see what else he’s good at.”

Bob nearly dropped the tray of cookies.

Y/N arched a brow. “You trying to die tonight, Bagman?”

Hangman grinned. “Nah, just trying to stir the pot.”

———

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the group rotated through board games, cookie breaks, and general shit-talking.

Bob had just defeated Maverick in a shock Uno reversal.

Y/N and Phoenix were arguing over whether or not The Proposal was the greatest rom-com of all time.

Fanboy wandered back over to the shelves. “Alright, alright. Game’s over. Let’s pick the movie.”

“Nothing sad!” Hangman warned. “I swear if I cry again tonight—”

“You cried during Paddington 2,” Payback muttered.

“He was a misunderstood bear!”

Fanboy rifled through the DVDs. “Too sappy. Too scary. Seen it. Seen it. This one looks new…”

He pulled a clear jewel case from the back. No label. No print. Just a blank disc with a small black smudge on the plastic.

——

The lights dimmed. Everyone piled onto the couch or the floor with blankets and snacks. Hangman stole the corner of Y/N’s couch and tried to drape a throw blanket over Bob’s legs, who promptly pushed it off.

Bob and Y/N stayed back in the kitchen for a second—pulling cookies off the tray, pouring drinks, laughing softly about the Uno drama.

“Are we sure we want them using our TV?” Bob asked.

“We’re not sure about anything tonight,” Y/N said, sliding him a drink. “Just roll with it.”

They were mid-kiss—chocolatey and sweet—when it happened.

From the living room:

A pause.

Then a sound.

Soft. Breathless.

“You sure it’s recording?”

A voice. Bob’s voice.

And then—

“OH MY GOD,” someone screamed.

“BOB!!!” Phoenix shrieked.

“IS THAT—ARE THEY—” Fanboy stuttered.

“YO TURN IT OFF!!” Rooster howled.

“WHY IS HE SAYING ‘YES MA’AM?!’” Hangman cackled.

Bob froze. “No.”

Y/N blinked. “No no no no no—”

They bolted into the living room.

The TV glowed in the dark. On screen: their bedroom.

Their bodies.

Their sounds.

Their moans.

And worst of all?

Bob’s voice again: “You like that, sweetheart?”

Y/N let out a shriek that could have shattered the screen. “THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE NIGHTSTAND!”

Bob scrambled toward the DVD player like it was a bomb. “I—oh my god—I didn’t—I didn’t know it was in there—I thought I moved it!”

“You didn’t!” she cried, grabbing a pillow to cover her face. “YOU DIDN’T!”

Hangman had fallen to the floor. “BRO. You freaks. You absolute freaks.”

Fanboy was crying. “WHY WAS HE IN A COWBOY HAT?!”

Bob yanked the disc out and slammed the screen off.

Silence.

Then—

“I can never look at this couch the same again,” Maverick said quietly.

——

The TV was dark now.

The room wasn’t.

It burned with secondhand embarrassment so thick, you could slice it with a dull butter knife.

Bob stood frozen in front of the screen, clutching the DVD like it might come alive and bite him.

Y/N was face down on the kitchen counter.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Then—

“…So do we finish it or…?” Fanboy asked.

Phoenix threw a cookie at him.

Hard.

⸻

Y/N finally lifted her head. Her face was crimson.

“I am going to die. Right here. Right now.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Phoenix said gently. “You are, however, going to get absolutely obliterated in the group chat for the rest of your natural life.”

Bob was mid-panic attack, pacing in tiny, frantic circles in front of the TV. “I don’t—I swear—I thought I moved it—I keep all our personal stuff in the nightstand, I never put that on the shelf, I don’t even remember putting it in the case—”

“Did you back it up to the cloud?” Fanboy asked.

“OH MY GOD—” Y/N shouted.

“Stop talking,” Phoenix snapped, shoving a brownie in his mouth. “Immediately.”

Hangman sat back with his arms crossed, glowing like it was Christmas morning. “So… let me get this straight. Y’all out here doing 1080p director’s cut levels of freakiness… with camera angles?!”

Bob groaned.

Hangman pointed to the screen. “I saw a tripod, Floyd. A TRIPOD.”

Payback nearly choked. “Oh my god—there were camera angles?!”

“You used soft lighting,” Rooster wheezed. “You had a setup!”

“I like aesthetics!” Y/N cried, throwing her hands up.

“She does,” Bob muttered, still scarlet. “She lit candles.”

“THEY LIT CANDLES?” Hangman shrieked. “This is porn for Libras!”

⸻

Y/N spun on Bob in a panic. “What else is on that disc?”

“I don’t know!” Bob hissed. “I thought that one was blank—I swear I didn’t mean to—I must’ve mixed it up with the backup one and—”

“THERE’S A BACKUP?”

Bob slapped a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean it like that!!”

Rooster collapsed face-first onto a pillow, crying from laughter.

“I can’t—I’m seeing you in a new light, Floyd,” Hangman said, wiping a tear. “And I gotta say—I’m proud. Disturbed. But proud.”

Y/N pointed a trembling finger at Bob. “You’re in charge of labeling our sex tapes from now on.”

He nodded frantically. “Absolutely. Color-coded. Numbered. Password protected.”

———

The squad had finally left.

And by “left,” of course, we mean: shoved out the door with leftover brownies, Hangman still screaming “I WANT THE EXTENDED CUT!” as he got dragged to the car.

Y/N slammed the door shut behind Phoenix, locked it, and turned around with a deep, soul-wounded sigh.

Bob was standing in the middle of the living room holding a throw pillow like it could protect his dignity.

“I want to crawl under the house and never come back.”

She laughed—really laughed—for the first time all night. “Baby…”

He dropped the pillow and flopped face-first onto the couch. “We’re never hosting again. Ever. I’ll burn the TV. I’ll join a monastery. You’ll have to visit me in silence and robes.”

Y/N walked over, climbed onto the couch, and sat on top of him.

“Okay, Brother Bob. But I’m gonna be the scandalous nun that sneaks in during full moon sermons.”

He groaned into the cushion.

⸻

A beat passed.

Then two.

Then—

“They saw me in a cowboy hat,” he said miserably.

Y/N grinned. “You looked hot.”

Bob sat up so fast she nearly fell off his lap. “YOU CAN’T SAY THAT.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders. “I can say that. Because I remember exactly what you said in that hat. And how it ended.”

He turned cherry red. “You’re evil.”

“And you came in, like, eleven seconds.”

“I WAS EXCITED,” he cried.

Y/N smirked and kissed his cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re humiliated.”

Bob buried his face in her neck. “I can never look Maverick in the eye again.”

“He’ll survive,” she said. “The man was a pilot in the ’80s. You think this is the first sex tape he’s seen?”

“…He did say he once flew with a guy who got court-martialed for crashing after a blowjob.”

“See?” She kissed his temple. “Legacy, baby.”

———

Y/N stood in one of Bob’s oversized shirts, brushing her teeth with a sleepy sway. Bob was behind her, washing his face like he was trying to erase his entire personality.

“Do you think Fanboy’s already editing a trailer?”

Bob groaned.

“Like—‘In a world… where cookies weren’t the only thing getting creamed—’”

“STOP.”

She snorted around her toothbrush.

Bob wiped his face, leaned into the mirror, and groaned again. “They’re gonna bring this up forever.”

“I know,” she said, rinsing. “They’ll never let it go. You’ll never live it down. And I’m gonna bring it up at every wedding toast from now until we die.”

“Please don’t.”

“I will. Especially if you make me watch The Martian again.”

Bob grinned despite himself. “You like The Martian.”

“I like you. The Martian is just part of the package deal.”

⸻

They locked eyes in the mirror.

And for a second, everything else faded—the shame, the chaos, the cowboy hat discourse. It was just them, in the warm bathroom light, standing a little too close, tired but still laughing.

Bob leaned in, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly against her shoulder.

Y/N tilted her head back onto his. “You don’t have to be.”

“I should’ve double-checked. Triple-checked.”

She turned around, cupped his face with both hands. “Bob Floyd. If your worst sin is that you accidentally played our sex tape because you were too excited about cookie night… I forgive you.”

He smiled.

“You’re perfect,” she added.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered. “You made me come in, like, eleven seconds. Again.”

She gasped and shoved him. “YOU SAID IT FIRST!”

He caught her around the waist, laughing. “Because it’s TRUE.”

———

Three months later. Sunday brunch.

Bob and Y/N were sitting at an outdoor table under a striped umbrella, sipping coffee with Bob’s Momma—sweet, Southern, church-on-Sundays, bless-your-heart energy radiating from her pearls and paisley blouse.

It was all going so well.

Y/N had just made her laugh. Bob had just offered to split a cinnamon roll. There were fresh strawberries. The sun was shining.

And then—

Bob’s phone buzzed.

1 New Message – “Hard Deck Hooligans” Group Chat

He didn’t check it. Just sipped his coffee.

Then it buzzed again.

Then again.

Then like fourteen more times in a row.

He blinked down at his phone.

Y/N, across the table, raised a brow.

Bob finally opened it.

And stopped breathing.

⸻

Jake Seresin had sent:

• One (1) blurry screenshot of the sex tape.

• Captioned:

“Just found this masterpiece again while clearing my storage. Honestly Oscar-worthy. @Bob @Y/N when’s the sequel?”

Bob dropped his phone like it burned him.

Y/N blinked. “Everything okay?”

He just stared at her.

Then his momma gently reached across the table and picked up the phone to hand it back to him.

The screen lit up right as she looked down.

The image popped up full-screen.

It was Bob.

In a cowboy hat.

Naked.

Mid-action.

“OH MY GOD—” Bob lunged across the table like it was life or death.

Y/N slapped both hands over her mouth.

His mother—sweet, soft-spoken, gentle Southern woman—slowly set the phone back down. Folded her hands. Took a delicate sip of water.

“…Robert,” she said calmly, “is that your… rear end?”

Bob made a strangled noise.

Y/N choked. “I’m sorry, I—I think I just blacked out for a second—”

His mother turned to her. “Sugar, is that you in the… video?”

Y/N nodded slowly, like she was confessing to a crime.

“Alright,” Momma said with a tight smile. “I just needed to confirm before I go into prayer.”

⸻

Bob was catatonic.

He stared down into his coffee, visibly glitching, whispering, “This isn’t real. I’ve astral projected. I’ve died.”

Y/N looked like she was trying not to pass out from laughing.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she whispered. “Jake. He’s a dead man.”

Bob muttered something like ‘I’m never going outside again’ before curling in on himself.

Y/N reached under the table and squeezed his thigh.

“You did look hot, baby,” she whispered.

He whimpered.

⸻

Meanwhile – Hangman’s Apartment

Hangman was kicked back on his couch, smug as hell, sipping a beer.

“Why’d you do that?” Phoenix asked, half amused, half exasperated.

He held up his phone. “Because life is short, but Bob’s cowboy hat lives forever.”

——

It started with a label.

Thick black Sharpie. Block letters. Written by Y/N, in all-caps, on a fresh blank disc:

“DO NOT PLAY THIS AT MOVIE NIGHT.”

Bob added a neon orange sticker below it that read:

“PRIVATE – GO AWAY, JAKE.”

It was 11:23 PM. There was incense burning. Low R&B playing. And Y/N was standing in the center of their bedroom in nothing but a pair of lace panties and Bob’s flight school sweatshirt, holding the camera remote with a glint in her eye.

“Think we’ll traumatize him if we send him the opening credits?”

Bob, already shirtless and blushing, tilted his head. “Is that the goal?”

She smirked. “It’s the minimum.”

⸻

Bob had been anxious all day. But once the record light glowed red—and Y/N straddled him, slow, soft, deliberate—it stopped feeling like humiliation.

It started feeling like control.

This time, he knew the angles. He chose the lighting. He wasn’t in a panic sweat—he was in silk sheets, with her body rolling above him, gasping into his ear, completely in charge.

And when she pulled off her sweatshirt and whispered, “This one’s for Jake,” before sinking down onto him—

Bob groaned, “He doesn’t deserve this masterpiece.”

⸻

📀 Two Days Later – Group Chat

Hangman:

📩 New AirDrop from: R.FLOYD

Rooster:

uhh y’all getting that too or just me?

Phoenix:

wait. wait. did he—?

Hangman:

oh my god.

oh my GOD.

OH MY GOD.

THEY SENT A TRAILER.

WITH MUSIC.

AND TRANSITIONS.

Fanboy:

BOTH OF THEM IN SILK??

AND A SLOW PAN??

BOB YOU EDITED THIS??

Bob:

🙂 yes.

Y/N:

enjoy it. you earned it.

Hangman:

bro I will NEVER talk shit again

this is cinema.

⸻

Later That Night – Bob & Y/N’s Bedroom

Bob crawled into bed with a satisfied sigh, arms wrapping around Y/N’s waist under the blankets. She giggled as he buried his face in her neck.

“You feel better now?” she asked.

“I feel legendary.”

Y/N turned in his arms to face him. “Think it’ll stop him?”

Bob thought for a second. “No. But at least next time he talks shit, I’ll just say ‘scene three, timestamp 1:24:56’ and walk away.”

She grinned. “Power move.”

They kissed—slow and smiling, warm and lazy—and Bob whispered against her lips:

“Next movie night? We’re bringing The Martian.”

She shoved him off the bed.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 149 (A New Pet - And a New Landgraab Problem?)

Captain Whitaker made himself right at home at the Gordon house on Sable Square. When Lavender returned from daycare on his first day as a reanimated dog, the Captain was thrilled to meet the energetic toddler who loved pets.

He also celebrated discovery of the chicken coop in the backyard, and he loved to chase the cats. It had been a while since Heather and Conrad needed to train bad habits out of a new pet, but they were happy to do it, because Captain Whitaker fit their family like a glove.

Heather's sister, Hazel, dropped by for breakfast one morning, on her way to help Alexander Goth put together his application to run for mayor.

"It's a long process and the town hasn't had an election in close to forty years, but Alex has a lot of really great ideas to make the Bay even better," Hazel said. "I really believe in him, and he needs more help with his campaign now that he's doing midnight feedings with baby Carina."

At the mention of Alex and Lydia Goth's second child, newborn Carina, Heather rubbed her belly as she felt her own baby kick. "I'd love to see this town running smoothly with a real mayor at the helm. The water shut-offs we've had to deal with lately make it so much harder to get the kids bathed, and the dogs, let alone us!"

"I hate to sound like Dad, but get a dew catcher. It rains enough on the coast you could collect enough water to last for weeks!"

"What's a dew catcher?" wondered Lavender.

"It stores water for when there's drought or the pipes freeze in winter. It's kind of like recycling the rain," Hazel explained, and Lavender nodded along thoughtfully.

"What's recyclig?"

"It's when you take something and use it again for something else, rather than getting something new, because it's better for the environment. Like new toys. If you bought a used toy, it would be recycled, as opposed to a new toy from a store."

"Used toys are better for the envi-erment?"

Hazel nodded. "Yeah, because new production uses a carbon footprint, and you want that carbon footprint to be as small as possible to help the planet."

Heather glanced pleadingly at Hazel, launching into one of her public policy talks with a four-year-old. "Why don't you get your Aunt Hazel to read you a story before she goes to work?"

Lavender smiled, dragging Hazel to the living room and picking out a book. "Can you do the voices again, too?"

"Of course, Lava. I can't read you a story without doing the voices!"

"No you can't!"

Lavender wasn't the only one in the household interested in books. Ash had picked up as many books on time travel from the library as he could, and he'd barely put them down since. If he was supposed to invent time travel, he had to understand it first.

Heather and Conrad were wary of what he was learning, but they'd encouraged Felix and Lilith to pursue it before they knew what Marco had said. Ash promised to leave the actual time travel to the adults, so they allowed him to study books like Theoretical Electronics and A History of Time Travel to offer assistance to Felix and Lilith - but only if they needed it.

Conrad accompanied him to the local library to return a few books he'd finished and check out a few more, bringing the dogs to run around. They sat in bright inflatable chairs that seemed out of place in the old wooden building. But the local historian and librarian, Gunther Lynx-Munch, said they'd been dropped off by an anonymous donor and he didn't want them to go to waste.

As he thumbed through the books on the shelves, Conrad turned to his stepson. "Are you really interested in all this time travel stuff?"

Ash shrugged. "Felix and Lilith say Emit's nice. What if changing the future changes him, too? I don't want to change the future too much, but I don't want to be feared. If I do help Felix and Lilith, I don't mind people not knowing I did it."

That night, Heather prepped fruit for Ash's school lunch while Conrad was bent over the sink to repair the plumbing. "Malcolm called again," she groused. "He's so interested in Ash's counseling sessions all of a sudden."

"I think this time travel and seeing ghosts stuff freaks Malcolm out a bit."

"He doesn't even think it's real!" She closed the fridge door with a heavy thud to put away the sliced fruit. "I think he's plotting something. With his mother."

Conrad finished with the plumbing and dried his hands, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her stomach. "Like what?"

"He's acting like I can't take care of our son, as if he wasn't flirting with Miko instead of watching Ash when he was taken. He actually said 'It can't be easy to move around that small house with all those animals.' They have a dog!"

"Don't get upset," he pleaded gently. "Has Malcolm ever been worth it?"

She forced herself to breathe, letting herself fall into his embrace. "I love you. I just worry about Ash all the time lately."

"I love you, too. Let's get some sleep; the baby needs it. We can worry about everything again in the morning."

Despite her fear and worry, the days were busy and long. Pregnant Heather was easily fatigued, and she soon fell asleep in Conrad's arms. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

[comatosebunny09]

we know that foods taste bland to sylus, so imagine when non mc cooks for the both of them and roomie!sylus is taken aback, his taste buds overwhelmed by the flavor

You know your way around a spice cabinet. You sprinkle seasonings on the meal you poured your heart into until your ancestors whisper from your shoulder, “Enough, my child.”

You make everything with love. You don’t always have time to cook, given the demands of your job and how it leaves you exhausted by the time you get home.

Sylus does most of the cooking when he’s in town—he insists it’s alright. That it’s the least he can do with you allowing him to shack up in your attic. Mooch off your shitty internet. Run up your electric bill (that he always covers) with his tinkering.

And when he isn’t around to sate your tastebuds with his worldly meals, you settle for takeout or a bowl of instant ramen.

But when you do take the time to cook, it’s a ritual. Something sacred. An all-day affair.

Everything’s made from scratch, from the pasta to the garlic bread. Again, you’re not shy when it comes to flavor. It’s almost like a hobby, how you bound around the kitchen, smiling, humming alongside the music spilling from your earbuds. You feel at ease. Happy. In your element. Even more so because you’re prepping something for your roomie.

He’s always taking care of you. Feeding you, humoring you, keeping you company, troubleshooting your electronics when you visit nefarious websites. It’s only fair you return his kindness. Besides, you like doing things for him.

‘Dinner’s on me tonight,’ he texts, on his way home from a meeting.

You tell him you’ve ‘already got something in the works,’ and he understandably responds with the raised brow emoji.

You only request that he grab something he’d like to drink with his meal on his way home. He’s bourgeois with expensive tastes, and your bottom-shelf, five-dollar Moscato won’t cut it.

He’s surprised by the spread once he gets home, toeing off his loafers by the door and slinging his coat on the rack. Teases you for the presentation, like you’re his spouse who prepared a feast for him like he’s returned from war.

It’s an ego boost when he takes that first bite, and his brows shoot up towards his hairline.

“Wow,” he quietly lauds, raspy, awestruck. All he can manage as his fork and knife clatter against the plate while he cuts through the meat and scoops up another mouthful of pasta.

Yeah. You might not cook like a refined chef working at a Michelin restaurant like him. But you cook with your heart. Soul. Like a mother making dinner for her kid on summer break following a semester of sleepless nights, endless studying, and saltine crackers and sardines to suffice for “sustenance.”

He’s sure to pay you back by helping with dishes. Putting suds in your hair and on the tip of your nose. Judging your taste in your music while it pollutes the serene atmosphere around you, filling the comfortable silence.

[e-bird-online]

Total Resistance in a Series Circuit

Problem: Three resistors, R₁ = 10Ω, R₂ = 20Ω, and R₃ = 30Ω, are connected in series. What is the total resistance?

LEARN ABOUT ELECTRINICS CIRCUIT | SOLVE THE PROBLEM EASILY.

[grrapess]

🌼Bucket list for this summer

prep day(s) on the early/late days: hair trimming and treatment, facial, full body gua sha/lymphatic drainage, shaving/waxing certain areas (if wanted), mani and pedi, lash treatment (colour+lift or filling), eyebrow fixing

going on a hike with friends through a big big forest

have a bathing lake day

camping (in an approved location ofc)

bike tour

sleepover with the besties (cocktails, self care, games, watching TV)

having several days fully offline and without work, chores and electronic devices solely dedicated to my faith and religious, spiritual practices

board game night

dinner w spouse, family or friends

horseback riding

skinny dipping

full moon party

stargazing

visiting the wellness/massage center

bubble tea dates

shopping: craft and book store, farmers market, second hand shops, whole foods

get a new piercing somewhere

beach day

baking sourdough

trying a new recipe

gelato dates

writing more

getting in touch with family members I haven't seen in a while

renting a house deep in the forest w friends

learning at least 2 new songs

finishing 3+ books

min 3L water every day

mostly whole and clean food

15-30k steps a day

[dnaayan-blog]

Important Ohm’s Law Problems for Competitive Exams

A circuit has a resistance of 10 Ω and a current of 2 A. What is the voltage across the circuit?

V= I × R = 2A × 10Ω = 20V

A 24V battery is connected to a resistor of 6 Ω. Find the current flowing through the circuit.

GET MORE FREE SOLUTION 👈.

[hxzbinwrites]

So excited for the new blog! Can you please do some headcanons of Vox and imp! Partner in a cute soulmates AU?? Out of all places for Vox to meet his soulmate at last, it’d be in hell of all places! And his imp partner is super adorable and sweet and kinda polar opposite from him. At first he’s in denial but over time he starts falling in love anyway <<333

Vox x Imp! Soulmate! Gn! Reader | Savior |

(I didn’t know what gender you wanted (Y/n) to be, so I just went ahead and put gn! I hope that’s okay!)

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Violence, Classism, Imp racism

Vox sat down at his “desk” of sorts. Glancing at his various monitors over the lip of his coffee mug. His bored expression evident on his face. Voxtech was doing great, a little too great. Nothing needed fixed, reprogrammed, or anything. Not even that little radio demon was active in his business today. Just plain nothing.

Val was busy doing whatever freakish things he does and Velette was prepping for her next fashion show next week, so there’s nothing he can do with them. He’s burnt practically every bridge with all of the other Overlords, so it’s not like he can go prancing up to them asking for a play date, all he can do is just sit here, in boredom, and watch screens flicker by. Watching all of these other sinners revel in his technology, unknowingly being watch by a extremely bored Vox.

He sighed, setting down his coffee mug as he stood up to stretch, placing a hand on his lower back before someone, or something, jerked his hand in another direction.

His screen glitched in aggravation, who the hell dare tug him. He isn’t a rag doll, he’s an Overlord. He’s THE VEE, He’s VOX.

With his electronic brows furrowed, he whips his head around to see no one in sight, before looking down at a bright red string coiled around his wrist, tugging him towards his elevator.

His eyes widen in shock, a soulmate string?? He didn’t have a soulmate. Not when he was alive, not when he fell into Hell, not…until now apparently.

‘I have nothing better to do I suppose’ He thought, walking towards his elevator.

————

Wondering around the Pride Ring was something most Imps didn’t do. The Pride Ring was for sinners, not for Imps. Well, (Y/n) certainly didn’t care. They walked about, with their head high and their tail swishing behind them. Well, until they got jerked in the other direction.

“The hell?” They muttered, looking at the string coiled around their wrist. This can’t be, (Y/n) didn’t have a soulmate. Haven’t had one ever, and probably wasn’t supposed to. Chalked it up to bad luck.

‘Good thing I listened to my gut to come to the Pride Ring. Alright soulmate, I hope you’re worth the trouble….and a piece of eye candy.’

They marched ahead, ignoring glances from sinners as they walked towards some of the more taller buildings.

Looking up, they saw in the far distance a huge tower, adorned with three V’s, all with their respective colors. Their heart fluttered, indicating that was where their soulmate resided. The string pulled once more in that direction before (Y/n) began to walk once more, following it.

They walked what seemed like forever, about halfway from the point they saw the tower to the tower, before something pulled on the opposite wrist.

“You little Imp.” A man said,”What do you think you’re doing up here? You don’t belong with sinner-kind, go back down there to the Wrath Ring where you belong, rodent.”

(Y/n) was shoved against the wall, face pressed against the cold brick of an alleyway. Their heart was racing, what if they died before they could ever meet their soulmate?!

They looked down, seeing their string begin to flash between red and white, alerting their soulmate that (Y/n) was in danger.

‘Please’ They thought,’Please help me my soulmate.’

————

Vox was strolling along the streets of Hell, briskly walking towards whenever the string may take him. People fled the scene from where he walked, too scared to come face to face with an Overlord.

Still, no sign of his soulmate. Irritated that they weren’t close, he sighed, rolling his eyes before he felt a pull, not a tug. He almost fell to the ground, stumbling before regaining his balance. Glitching in annoyance, he looked at his string, flashing in colors. Signaling something.

He had a gut feeling, something in his very core alerting him as well as the string. Wrong. Something is terribly, awfully wrong.

He broke out into a full sprint, shoving anyone out of the way who didn’t move fast enough for his urgent pace. He stopped near an alleyway, seeing a sinner press a poor imp against the wall. The imp was quivering in fear, until they locked eyes with Vox. The string disappeared, and he felt…whole. Completed. He didn’t even realize he was missing a piece of himself until he found it. But an…imp? He’s with an imp. Him, and overlord, with a hellspawn? It can’t be possible. It shouldn’t be possible.

While internally he was having these thoughts, he acted on pure instinct and without even thinking he took the sinner’s head and smashed it into the brick wall, with a force so hard he created an indent in the brick itself and the sinner’s body fell to the ground.

Without exchanging a word, he lifted the smaller Imp into his arms, found the nearest Voxtech device and teleported through it, bringing him and his newfound soulmate back to his office.

“Who are you? Are you supposed to be my soulmate?” He sneered in disbelief, but stopped speaking whenever the Imp dove in to hug him. His heart rate sped up and his screen started glitching.

“Yeah…” They said,”thank you for saving me. I…I didn’t think I had a soulmate. What’s your name, sir?”

“Vox” He replied,” and yours?”

“(Y/n). I don’t know how you sinners live up here in the Pride Ring, it’s very scary.” They nervously chuckled,”I guess the soulmate string can’t find the other if you’re stuck in different rings.”

“Yeah” He said,”that makes a lot of sense. I want to ask you something, (Y/n). Why did that sinner attack you?”

“Ah, well he said it was because I’m an imp and that I need to return back to the Wrath Ring where I belong….” They said, looking at the floor.

Vox’s clawed fingers gently lifted their chin, locking eyes with the imp. His face seething with anger. His screen was glitching. Looking at his poor soulmate, with tears glistening in their eyes. Oh, these sinner’s who think like that are gonna PAY. He thought back on his earlier thoughts a few moments ago. Who really cares if they’re an imp. This imp is as sweet as can be, perfection incarnate if you will. But this…shoving them into the wall purely based on the fact that they’re an imp. This has to stop. He’s seen the light, his other half. He knows what must be home. His face starts glitching in anger, seething in the rage that someone hurt his precious love.

“If you’ll excuse me, my love, I n-n-need to make a f-few broadcastsss.” Vox said, his glitching making his voice stutter.

He snapped his fingers, making one of his various workers bring a comfy chair over for (Y/n) while he went to go sit at his desk.

He was no longer bored today, no, he had a mission. A mission to protect his precious soulmate at all costs.

————

Word Count: 1159

[nudityandnerdery]

I'd be fascinated to hear a conservative argument for how this helps anyone other than tax prep companies.

[d1s1ntegrated]

hiii im back again !!!

can i request shiggy hcs for a reader who chronically bed rots (i was trying to find a better word for it instead of chronically but alas) but they basically just stay in bed watching whatever and sleeping (forgetting to eat is also a habit of mine when i do it ;-;)? thank u <33

OFC U CAN!!! i am also a chronic rotter. i know how it feels bb i got u!

bed rotting x shigaraki hcs

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the first time tomura saw you bed rot, he thought you were sick.

"are you okay?? are you getting up?"

when you explained you just...couldn't...he nodded and crawled into bed next to you.

he and you both understand it's not the healthiest, but he's no stranger to a bad habit or two.

so when he learns that some days are just gonna be harder than others, he prepares like a mf

we're talking doomsday prepping.

he and a few other league members will go out and steal a bunch of shit: snacks, water bottles, etc

charges all the electronics and makes sure there are chargers nearby

gets nice clean pjs to lay in for you

regardless of whether its related to a chronic illness, mental shit, or not, he makes sure he learns what you need, if anything during that time.

because thats what he would want for himself :( thats what he needed. he understands it

helps you brush your hair out (he kinda sucks at it but hes doing his best okay)

sleeps next to you when you're sleeping, because gods know he needs it too

especially likes to watch shitty animated movies with you when you guts are awake

will send you memes/posts instead of showing them to you even though you're right. there.

you guys dont have to say anything to each other for hours on end, and you're still content just being there together.

plays dumb games on his phone

shows you him bullying villagers off his animal crossing island to get you to laugh

"i fucking hate barold hes so fucking ugly GET OFF MY FUCKING ISLAND YOU PLEB" (sorry barold lovers shiggy is NAWT a fan)

if you forget to eat, he will also forget, until you hear his stomach rumble and you both go "oh fuck"

adhd mode as fuck

gotta keep the big lights off for this

if you're the only one in that headspace, he'll do his best to just be there for you and make sure you take care of yourself

even if that means dragging you by a foot to brush your teeth or at least have a quick rinse in the shower

cause he knows if you dont, you'll feel bad for not

but he's very gentle and understanding always, because hes been there

and he will continue to be there regardless

all he cares about is that you're at least safe and healthy with him

cuddles and kisses you incessantly

just loves being next to you always, this just gives him an excuse to be clingy

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okay this was really cute, also helped me channel some of my own personal guilt ab bed rotting ;-;

thank u for the request <3

shit like this gives me the motivation to not only keep writing, but to be kinder to myself, because thats what shig would want. i hope this has the same effect for you guys.

love u all, take care of urself <3