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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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Short Leash /// Lev x f!Reader x Alisa (18+)

Summary: [Post-timeskip] The Haiba siblings get up to no good with their favorite pet.

A/N: Lev really went from skinny goblin to sugar папочка, and don’t even get me started on Alisa 😭 Also, imma lay heavy on those Russian terms of endearment 🇷🇺 I know Lev doesn’t speak Russian but I feel like post-timeskip he might, and it makes me horny so…

Dedicated to my eternal muse @koiibito for thirsting with me and stoking my lust for this duo and to @thisisthehardestthing for providing the fashion references that brought this fic to life for me (although I still can’t describe clothing for shit). Thank you!!!

Tags/warnings: (slight) pet play, threesome, alcohol/drug use mentions, size kink (yk Lev is 6’5 and Alisa is 5’10), dom/sub, orgasm control, rough sex, filming, breath play, crying, reader is a sugar baby in denial, no incest but the siblings fuck you together, yandere-ish, established BDSM relationship, all characters are adults

They like playing dress-up.

With you, if that wasn’t obvious. They’re models, so you could say that playing dress-up is a career for them, a method of putting food on the table…and Balenciaga in the closet…and every luxury pharmaceutical known to man in the medicine cabinet. And they’re so beautiful, both of them. They look good in anything. But when it comes to you, playing dress-up is a labor of love.

Today was Alisa’s turn, which means today was red: crimson lingerie in a box she had delivered to you before the party tonight. The box…it looked so out of place propped up against the bottom of your shabby apartment door that it’s a miracle no one stole it. Black packaging, lettering in gold, and the label printed on the box was French, you think? The two years of language class you took in high school didn’t help you read it, but you had no trouble understanding the number at the bottom of the receipt Alisa included with the set.

She left it on purpose, you know that. She wants you to know that the money she dropped on these flimsy little undergarments could have paid your rent for two months. But you can’t tell her that, or she’ll just insist again that your apartment is so small and ugly, it’s not worth it, it’s high time you moved in with her and Lev already, they would love to have you, and you’d never have to worry about rent again.

Spoiling you. That’s what they call it. Sometimes you think the Haiba siblings spoil you because they know it makes you uncomfortable.

Either way, you can’t say no. You’ve tried, over and over, told them they need to stop buying you clothes and shoes and diamonds but they just laugh you off. Lev, especially—he’s got this way of tipping his head to the side and blinking down at you while you try to explain how nervous it makes you to be dripping in excess, smiling lightly like he’s watching a child throw a tantrum. They just don’t get it. Or they do, and they think it’s funny.

Yeah, it’s probably the latter. You were raised right, raised not to accept gifts like this when you have nothing to give in return—but you were also raised to be gracious to the kindness of strangers, and while they aren’t exactly strangers, it’s just too exhausting to try to deny their generosity. Over time, little by little, you’ve given inches and the Haiba siblings have taken miles.

The Haiba siblings. That’s who they are, constantly presented in juxtaposition since Lev made his debut. They were born for this, and not because of their height. It’s the eyes—something savagely beautiful about that shade of green, those pale eyelashes, the slitted pupils like a cat’s.

The lingerie was Alisa’s choice, but the dress was Lev’s which is probably why he can’t keep his hands off you at the party, grip gliding down the low back and breath ghosting over your neck every time you try to put some distance between you. He’s usually more careful than this—Alisa can get away with the playful touching (groping?) because the cameras will just play it off as friendly skinship, but if someone catches Lev stroking across your thighs or tracing those long fingers over your spine while you move together on the dance floor, there’s going to be trouble. Not that it’s your problem, but one of you has to be responsible tonight, and judging by the number of times Lev’s excused himself to go to the bathroom and come back blinking and grinning and rubbing his nose, the responsible one is going to have to be you.

This time when he returns his gelled-back hair is mussed and—Jesus, how careless can he get?—there’s a little dusting of coke spilled over the collar of his black shirt. You roll your eyes and reach up to brush it off for him but he catches your hand and lifts it to his mouth. A kiss on your inner wrist first, and then his teeth are grazing over that tender skin, blunt edges digging in and drawing dents. A bite.

It’s just on the edge of painful when you belatedly yank your hand away. “Lev—you got it on your shirt, seriously—“ You try to make your voice sound scolding, but it comes out too high.

Lev’s eyes are dark, dilated; he laughs breathlessly and nudges closer to you, trapping you between his long arms and the bar. “You want some? Kotyonok, little kitten wants a treat?”

“No…I’m just drinking tonight. I don’t want to be out too late.” The vodka soda in your hand isn’t nearly strong enough, but if you have any more you’re going to be too drunk to keep your act together and deal with their antics. You don’t have the tolerance they do, and just because they can get away with all the coke and the alcohol and whatever else they’ve been playing with tonight doesn’t mean you can.

…Not that your relative sobriety stops Lev from dragging your face up to meet his, lifting your chin with both hands wrapped around the back of your head and bending down only enough that you still have to rise up on your tiptoes to kiss him. You only catch a hint of the smell of honey before the sour-sweet taste of Lev’s favorite drink (that medovukha mead stuff, it’s Russian, you think) is filling your mouth and his long tongue is sliding over yours. “Mmph—“

“Kitten, always so good,” he sighs, pressing closer so your face has to arch up to the ceiling to meet his. In your limited view you can see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he kisses you, sweeping over your tongue, biting your lip and laughing into your mouth. “So sweet…and impatient, yeah? Want to go home with us already?”

His hand on the small of your back is bunching your dress up, giving him the space to push his knee between your legs. You gasp sharply but it just eggs him on and his mouth dips down under your jawline, his body covering yours, so sudden and so public that your eyes flash around the room, wondering who might witness Lev—the international model Lev Haiba—sucking on your throat. “L-Lev, wait, someone—someone will see—“

“You’re asking to go somewhere private? Greedy girl…Alisa’s still having fun.”

You try to come up with a response, but it’s not easy to think straight when he’s holding your waist, circling it with those big hands and petting up to your ribs, cupping your tits while his thigh rubs between your legs. You can smell his cologne, bergamot and amber, and—and—you can smell his cologne—

“Lyovochka~” Alisa’s voice rings out and you know just by hearing it that she’s had as much as Lev. Her hand fists in her brother’s hair and pulls him off your neck none too gently, ignoring his curse and complaints. “Naughty, naughty. Playing without me, were you?”

“Alisa, you’re fucking up my hair,” Lev whines, but he straightens off you, pulling Alisa into your tight little trio at the bar. “Kitty says she wants us to take her home.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and wonder if they can see the blush under your foundation. “I didn’t— I can go home myself—“ Not that you have a chance in hell of leaving the party without them, but still. You can pretend to play coy.

“No.” Alisa places a finger on your mouth to shush you and then her eyes lower and her fingernail—painted silvery white, her signature color—pushes into your bottom lip. You stumble closer, hands meeting her shoulders through the thick white padding of the jacket she’s wearing, over the glittering crystals that look blindingly bright under the blacklights.

Silver and white. Always silver and white.

Her fingernail traces down your lip, drawing a fine line on your chin; on instinct, you tip your head back to give her access to pet down your throat until she comes to a rest on the neckpiece of the harness she included with the lingerie set. When her hand reaches the ring in the center of the choker she grips it, pulling your face away from Lev’s and toward hers. “Lyovochka, what do you think…? I saw it and thought of kotyonok. A collar for our little kitten.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I need to see more.” Lev’s hands are on you again now, splaying flat over your chest before his fingers curl, one by one, around the harness strap that leads from the ring at the choker down between your breasts until it disappears under the neckline of your dress. He’s tugging on it—lightly, but you can’t deny the feeling that it’s like a leash…or the feeling of heat gathering in your pussy at having the two of them all over you like this.

You shouldn’t be letting them touch you (and they are touching you, Alisa’s hand stroking your throat and Lev tugging your side into his chest). There’s always people watching at parties like this; you’ve attended these things on Lev’s arm or Alisa’s enough times to know better than to let them do as they please. You’re supposed to be the responsible one. Too bad your body is craving a lot more than the innocuous touches they can give you in public.

You swallow and Alisa grins, dark-painted lips stretching over those perfect white teeth. “So. Kitten, would you like us to take you home? Say please.”

You don’t have to say it. You could ask yourself why you let them get away with this, why you keep letting yourself fall to the mercy of these siblings, why they even want you in the first place, but those are questions for tomorrow morning—tonight, even though you should hate it, there’s a part of you that wants to purr every time they call you kitten.

“…Please,” you murmur, and as soon as the word is out Lev’s grip on the harness tightens, pulling the choker taut around your neck.

///

They end up ripping the dress.

You kind of hate them for it when you think about how many bills you could have paid with the money they spent dolling you up for tonight. But by the time they get around to it, you’re pretty much too horny to care.

They didn’t even wait til you got home (their home, you remind yourself, not yours), although that shouldn’t have surprised you. From Alisa tugging on your hair and Lev’s arm draped possessively around your shoulders, you should’ve seen it coming, but it still takes you by surprise that the three of you have barely piled in the back of the Uber when Alisa’s dragging you to sit on her thigh, unceremoniously pulling your dress over your hips and sliding her hand up the slit where the fabric falls open to rub your pussy.

You whine and squirm but can’t quite make yourself say the word “no”, instead squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on Alisa whispering in your ear that you’re a good girl, getting so wet for them. All three of you can hear the squishy damp noises your pussy is making sucking around her fingers, and dear god you hope the driver can’t hear it too—wait, is he looking? Your eyes peek open, traitorously seeking out the rearview to see if there’s a possibility he’s watching the show, but before you can work up the guts to tell them to quit it, Lev’s hand is folding around your jaw again and forcing two of his fingers past your lips for you to drool on. And—fuck—Alisa’s petting over your cunt, drawing slow lines up from the wetness gathered at your hole up to your clit.

By the time you’ve reached the building Lev and Alisa are staying at in Tokyo, you’re past the point of caring that other people are around. Lev has to pull you out of the car and off Alisa’s lap to get you to stop humping your ass into her lap and trying to push your mound into her fingers. Alisa winks at the driver—probably earning herself a 5-star rating despite all your bad behavior—and then the two of them are steering you past the doorman and into the elevator.

As soon as you’ve got the barest semblance of privacy, Lev pulls your back into his chest and grinds himself into you. You can feel how hard he is, the heat of his body leaching through the fabric of your clothing directly into your skin, hands around your waist forcing you to mold yourself into him while he layers kisses over the side of you neck. “L-Lev, ah— mm, someone’s gonna come in,” you whine as he pushes the bulge of his stiff cock against your lower back, but he just lets one of his hands drift up to scratch at the choker of the harness again.

Alisa’s hands meet your cheeks on either side, framing your face for a short moment so she can study your dazed expression, the flush on your cheeks, your sex-glazed eyes. You look like you want to get fucked, you know that? You look like you want them to push you down in the elevator and fuck you right there. “But kotyonok, you’re so darling. We should let other people get a chance to see, no?”

Lev’s hand spans the breadth of your throat, not quite pressing down (yet), so he must be able to feel the way your muscles contract and release when you swallow—not to mention the edge of tension that enters your body at the thought of someone seeing you in such a compromising position. “Ahh, kitty wants to be all ours, doesn’t she? She doesn’t want us to share.”

“Is that so?” Alisa doesn’t give you a chance to answer, just tipping your face up and letting her lips close over yours. She tastes more bitter than Lev did and for the brief moment you have between getting pressed between them and your brain short-circuiting, you wonder what she’s been drinking. “Are you being selfish?”

“Nnnh, I—“ you don’t have an answer for her, but it doesn’t really matter because the elevator is dinging at the penthouse and Alisa’s pulling you away from Lev into their apartment by the center strap of the harness. You’ve got no choice but to follow, and you consider telling her to quit dragging you around by your neck but there’s something about the pressure on your throat that isn’t…entirely unpleasant, so you hold your tongue.

Lev murmurs to Alisa in Russian—you hate when they do that, especially because you know they’re only doing it because they don’t want you to understand—and then you’re in the spare bedroom, the one that the siblings insist on referring to as your bedroom. Even though you don’t live here. Even though you do everything you can to avoid staying here. Even though the only times you ever spend the night are when you’re too fucked-out by the two of them to consider putting in the effort to get home.

Something tells you this is going to be one of those nights.

They work in sync, teasing down the straps of your dress and easing you out of it until Alisa snaps the harness between your tits and Lev gets impatient and someone pulls the back of the dress a little too hard and that’s when you feel tearing. “Shit,” you hear in Lev’s voice, a soft curse in Russian from Alisa, and then a reluctant peal of laughter as the dress flutters down to the ground.

“Did you—“ You’re about to curse them out for ruining something so fucking expensive, but Lev clucks his tongue and shakes his head and you fall silent. He’s pulling back from you—so is Alisa—and your heart jumps for a second wondering if you did something wrong until you realize they’re just looking at you, drinking in the image of you naked except for the lingerie Alisa picked out for you.

“Bordelle?” Lev murmurs, running fingers down the straps cinching around your waist, the belt holding up the garters—as usual, you don’t know whether to move away from his touch or melt into it.

Alisa smiles. “It was made for her, don’t you think? Our kitten looks good in red.”

Honestly, they call you kitten, but the way they look at you is less like the way owners look at a pet and more like wolves sizing up a little lamb they’ve cornered. Hungry. Starving. You’re not sure which you prefer, but it makes you self-conscious. You’d felt pretty confident about the way you looked when you examined yourself in the mirror before the party—Alisa has good taste, even if the lingerie is just this side of bondage gear and not something you would’ve bought for yourself in a million years—but now you have to fight the urge to cover yourself up with your hands…not that they’d let you.

True to your prediction, as soon as your hand twitches with the instinct to cross your arms over your bound-up tits Lev snaps down to catch it. “Let me see,” he instructs, and the authority in his voice is so definite that your arms fall back down to your sides automatically. “Good girl. Alisa, do you think we can keep it on while we fuck her?”

While we fuck her.

He says it so nonchalantly. And it’s not like you didn’t know that’s what you’re here for. You’re a grown-up, you’re sober (ish), and you’ve been in this room with the two of them enough times that you’re well aware there was only ever one way this night was going to end up. But the way he says it makes you shiver. They’re going to fuck you…like they own you. And it’s kind of terrifying how much you want to be owned.

“I think we can get the panties off without taking off the rest,” Alisa says to respond to Lev’s question, even as she brushes a stray lock of hair away from your eyes. “Besides, I have a surprise for her.”

A surprise? It wouldn’t be the first time one of them has pulled out something unexpected in bed—last time it was a ball gag and nipple clamps, and the time before that it was a magic wand vibrator (plated in literal gold, because the Haibas are nothing if not excessive) that had you begging and crying and creaming all over the sheets. You can’t help your anxiousness as Alisa pulls something out of the otherwise-empty dresser and sets it up to face the bed.

It’s…a camera. A camera? “You want to film it?” you blurt out, your voice sounding pitchy and nervous even to your own ears.

“Great idea,” Lev says, patting your head like that’s all it’ll take to make you feel better.

“Yes, kotyonok. I’m going to film you,” Alisa replies, fiddling with the settings and batting those long blonde eyelashes at the lens once she’s satisfied.

“Wait, I—I don’t know. I’m not like you, I can’t just—” you stammer. Sure, the twins will look perfect and irresistible and bewitching, but you? You’re not sure you want to have a video of yourself getting fucked stupid in their hands. “What if I don’t want to…?”

“But I want to.” Alisa’s gaze sweeps down over you and you lower your eyes so you don’t have to meet it, don’t have to feel the weight of it holding you down more securely than any leash. There’s a reason she’s a model—she could sell anything. Those eyes. How are you supposed to say no?

You want to step back away from her. You almost try, but Lev’s at your back already, long arms draped over your shoulders, a loose hold that nonetheless keeps you from moving. So instead of backing up, you just bite your lip.

Alisa’s face softens—she’s good at that, good at picking up the cues when she’s pushed a little too far for your comfort—and a second later you feel her hand wrapping around yours, holding it. “Safeword?”

Cherry. The safeword is cherry. It’s not that you’ve forgotten. It’s her way of reminding you that you have a safeword, and you can use it, and it’ll be okay. This isn’t even a full-on scene, but Alisa must be able to sense that the addition of the camera made you scared.

Picking up the change in mood a second later, Lev’s hand finds your other one and he strokes his thumb over your skin reassuringly. God, maybe it’s wrong that they can make you feel hunted one second and adored the next, but you let out a breath and relax, shaking your head to indicate that you’re not stopping.

She brings your hand up to her mouth and kisses it so lightly her lipstick barely leaves a mark—wait, oops. You’d forgotten she was wearing lipstick. You must have it all over you by now.

“Good girl. We take good care of you, don’t we?”

“…Yes.”

“We do.” Lev’s impatient, you can tell from the way he’s adjusting his grip to your waist and pushing you over to the bed. “We’re not going to share the video, if that’s what you’re worried about. Alisa likes to joke, but really…”

Your ass hits the mattress so you’re half-sitting, half-lying on the covers, propped up on your elbows, peeking through your eyelashes at the two of them looming over you—and, oh, there they are again.

The wolves.

“…we don’t want anyone else seeing you like this,” Alisa finishes, holding up the camera and flicking the little red light on to record.

///

Lev starts, like usual. You think maybe it’s a control thing, that Alisa doesn’t let you touch her until you’re already falling apart on Lev’s fingers, his tongue…his cock. As much as she likes it when you bite back, you’re cuter when you’re begging.

She’s holding your face off the bed by a hand under your chin, wrenching your neck back so your wrecked face is level with the camera. You’re on your hands and knees—or, more accurately, your hands and elbows, with your ass arched up and Lev’s face buried in your slit. “Nngh, nnnnn, fuck please please—“ Your whining is barely coherent, but Lev knows what you’re asking for and he digs his fingers into the meat of your ass to hold you still as he latches his mouth over your clit and sucks.

Fuck— you keen and try to drop your head down to the sheets to angle your dripping cunny closer to his mouth, but Alisa’s grip on your jaw prevents you from getting any further out of the camera frame. “Uh-uh, no. I want to see you.”

“Alisa…ahhh…” Your tongue is lolling out of your mouth and you know you must look like a mess, spit practically falling over your lips as you try to stop yourself from cumming right here. Fuck, it feels good, feels so hot and wet that your juices don’t even have time to cool on your thighs before more is dripping down.

“Tell the camera what’s happening, kotyonok,” Alisa purrs, wiping the saliva off your lip and then pushing her fingers over your tongue.

“…eating me out, he’s—uhhhn—licking my pussy…” you slur around her fingers. Your glassy eyes flit between her appraising expression and the lens of the camera—even though you trust that they won’t show the video to anyone outside this room, it’s making you shudder to think about what’s on the little screen you can’t see—Alisa’s pretty silver fingernails coated in your drool as she presses them deeper into your throat, your body all bound up in red straps and gold fastenings, and Lev behind you, hair falling out of its careful style as he shoves his face deeper between your legs.

The edge of Alisa’s finger bites into the plush of your lip as you moan and unsuccessfully attempt to wriggle your ass under Lev’s grip. “Who’s licking your pussy?” she asks calmly, like she’s asking what the weather is like today.

“Lev, it’s, it’s Lev—fuck ohh, oh,” you whine as Lev slides his tongue flat from your clit up to your hole and pushes the slimy wet muscle inside. It’s so long, you’re never going to get used to how stupid long his tongue is, licking out your walls and making slurping sounds that are downright fucking vile.

Heat is gathering quickly in your abdomen, and you can feel it—that plateau rising before you hit your peak, and the tension in your thighs making them twitch and quiver as your muscles contract in anticipation—and his tongue is so long and thick it’s almost reaching your g-spot, almostalmostalmost, god-fucking-damnit. Your spine curls even further, arching yourself into him, wordlessly begging for him to keep doing exactly what he’s doing. “Gonna cum, fuck Lev please make me, make me cum!”

“Oh? Did I say you were allowed to cum?” Alisa asks, cat-like eyes narrowing.

Shit, fuck, she didn’t, but you don’t know if you can help yourself. Your hand fists in the sheet, curling your fingernails around the fabric to try to ease up the heat where Lev’s mouth is latched to your cunt. “Please Alisa—I need to—“

Alisa shakes her head. “But you don’t get to decide what you need, kotyonok.”

She’s right, but—but, it’s not fair, Lev’s switching between dragging his tongue over your clit and fucking you with it—you try to pull your hips away from his mouth but he doesn’t let you, effortlessly holding you in place while he teases you even higher.

“Who decides?” she continues, petting your jawline and wiping away the first hint of a tear from your cheek as you try to hold it back—

but you can’t.

“You-you decide! You decide when I cum!” you gasp, but your body is already betraying your words, convulsing and contracting as your climax hits you like a truck. You try to hold yourself through it but it’s impossible—your eyes roll back and arms go slack, dropping flat on the bedspread with your ass still pushed up into the air as your pussy walls contract around Lev’s tongue.

He’s still licking you—slower now at least, but you’re shaking at the feeling of him stimulating that sensitive bud. “Stop…too much,” you whine weakly, but he just raises a hand off your ass cheek to give it a light smack.

“Bad kitty,” he murmurs with his mouth still pressed against your slit, and the contact makes you seize up and twitch.

“Yes. Very bad.” Alisa doesn’t look angry—she’s never angry with you, even when you’re…disobedient, you guess—but there’s a note of mischief in her eyes that sends a thrill of fear (and not just fear) down your spine.

“S-Sorry, I’m sorry,” you whimper, but Alisa’s already pulling you upright by the ring on your choker.

“Did you cum? Even though we didn’t give you permission?” she asks, even though all three of you know you did. You nod, avoiding looking at both her and the camera as if that’ll disguise the obvious flush painting your cheeks red. At your admission, she smiles indulgently and murmurs something in Russian that you don’t understand, but you get the gist.

You’ve been naughty. And you’re going to get punished.

You hear the bedsprings squeak and feel the dip of the mattress as Lev climbs up behind you, settling his body against yours so the bulge in his pants is pressed against your back again. He’s still wearing most of his outfit from the party—they both are, and you note (not for the first time) how ridiculous it is that the siblings are willing to fuck you together but being naked in front of one another is the one boundary they won’t cross—but you don’t have to wait long before you hear him undoing his pants and pulling his cock out to rut it lazily against your back.

Automatically you shift your legs apart and reach down to finger yourself like you usually do, stretch your cunt out so you’re ready to take him. But before you can reach your pussy, Lev’s hand is folding over yours and lacing his fingers over your hand to stop you. “L-Lev?”

“No, kitty,” he tells you firmly.

You shiver. Alisa pinches your cheek and rubs over your ear. “What…”

“You already came,” Lev continues, and then you feel his cock sliding between your thighs, between your soaking-wet lips, using your cum as lubrication. “You came, so you don’t need to get ready. You’re going to take all of me, okay?”

All of him. You swallow. The full length slowly rubbing between your legs is going to go inside of you, without any preparation beforehand. “But…if I don’t, it’ll—it’s gonna hurt…”

“Yes, it’s going to hurt.” He waits for a moment, giving you a chance to say the safeword, but you don’t. “It’s going to hurt, and then it’ll feel good, and then you’re going to cream yourself on my cock like always. Yes?”

“Uh—“ You blink rapidly, already feeling his cockhead pushing between your lips toward your hole. Alisa combs your hair out of your face and you turn toward her. “Alisa?”

“Don’t ask her. You need to learn that your owners will take care of you. You need to trust us.” Lev presses in, stretching your little cunt around the thick head, and you suck in a sharp inhale.

“A-Ah—it’s too big,” you whine, scrunching your eyes shut and biting your lip as he slides himself deeper into you. And yeah, it hurts…but with how riled up you are, it definitely doesn’t hurt enough for you to want it to stop. The burn from the stretch is just making you wetter, and the feeling of being filled up by him is unbelievable. This was supposed to be a punishment, right?

Alisa cups your face to kiss you gently, and then her hands drift lower to circle your neck. Lev’s still sliding his cock into your pussy, slowly, slowly, so you can feel everything, every inch of his skin and every vein dragging against your g-spot. The deeper he gets, the more it hurts and the more you want to stop him, to take the lead—but he doesn’t let you.

“Are you going to cry, kitten?” Alisa asks you, reaching down to take one of your hands and pull it over her shoulder so you’re holding her. You grit your teeth and shudder and shake your head, making her lips quirk into a smile. “It’s alright if you cry. You’re still cute when you’re crying.”

With another roll of his hips Lev’s pushing up against your cervix and you choke out a curse. “F-Fuck, I’m not—not gonna c-c-cry…”

“Shh…” Upright on his knees behind you, Lev’s body is so big curled over yours that you feel smothered between him and Alisa. You sneak a glance back and there’s a pale pink flush over his cheeks and shoulders. “You’re taking me so well…taking my cock like that, going to make me forget you were bad…”

You stay still because it hurts more when you try to move, and you need to get yourself adjusted. You have to relax, you have to, but he’s so big, heavy and thick between your aching legs. You still haven’t recovered from cumming earlier, and every time one of the aftershocks hits you and you clench around him, the mix of pleasure and pain is almost too much. Even as aroused as you are, your cunt sucking him in for all you’re worth, he’s pushing against your cervix…and his hips haven’t even hit yours yet. He hasn’t bottomed out.

You’re going to take all of me, he said. You’re not even sure you can. But no matter what, you’re not—you’re not—gonna cry.

Until Lev pulls his hips back, sliding his cock out of you so it’s only his head sheathed at the entrance to your cunt, and then snaps forward again, filling you back up in a single stroke. He knocks into you so forcefully that you jerk forward, your chest mashing into Alisa’s. The force and his weight pulls a squeak out of you and—fuck, fuck—you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“—t-t-too fast,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut as if that’ll prevent them from getting glossy. The pads of Alisa’s fingers are skimming over your cheeks, and her skin is so soft and silky that you want to nuzzle in for comfort.

“But Kotyonok likes it fast, doesn’t she?…you feel how wet you are on my—my cock?” Lev’s face nudges against your shoulder, and you can feel his hands curling around your upper arms, securing you underneath him, holding you in place as he pounds into you.

You like it…like it fast? Your head is spinning, you’re dizzy and hot and feverish, Lev’s cologne is mixing with Alisa’s perfume and you feel like you’re drinking it, ugh. Fuck. Feels like you’re getting bruised up inside and it feels good. Your legs are jerking, weakly trying to push yourself back on his cock to make him fill you up deeper than your pussy can take but you’re totally at their mercy.

“Let her down, Lyovochka. I want kitty to lick,” Alisa says, looking over your shoulder to make eye contact with her brother. She shifts back on the bedspread, easing herself into the pillows and pushing the skirt of her dress up over her waist to expose her panties: mesh, lace, powder-pink. They’re so pretty against her pale skin that you just stare down at her for a second, open-mouthed, before Lev’s releasing his grip on your arms and splaying his palm into your back, shoving your face down toward her lap.

You catch yourself on your elbows—barely—but you don’t have time to adjust to the new position and how stupid fucking goddamn deep Lev’s cock is hitting you before Alisa’s pulling your face up closer to her clothed pussy and adjusting her thighs to make room. Is she going to keep the panties on? Fuck—you almost ask her to take them off but you know you aren’t allowed so you just angle your face in and let drool coat your tongue so you can try to lap at her pussy through the fabric.

The awkward angle means you can barely taste her, but fuck, what you can taste is so good—they’ve conditioned you, the two of them, conditioned you like Pavlov’s dogs to crave what they’re doing to you so badly you can’t even think. The slightly-bitter taste of her cunt soaking through to your mouth has you intoxicated. She got like this from watching you, watching you cum all over the pretty lingerie she bought you, watching you get fucked so hard you’re crying. The thought of her getting off on watching you squirm makes your pussy clench around Lev’s cock.

“Gonna cum again?” Lev asks with laughter in his voice; his pace slows, dragging out the stimulation to your g-spot right as you feel him reach down to tease over your clit. You squeak out a denial but he doesn’t believe you—and why would he when he can literally hear the nasty wet noises from your pussy eating up his cock? “Yes…you are."

“I’m—n-no, I’m noooot…”

“Poor baby, can’t control herself.” Alisa’s pushing you back into her cunt, fingernails scraping over your scalp as you desperately try to lick her pussy. “Don’t be cruel, Lev.”

Another laugh, low and raspy and juddering from the pace of his cock stretching your walls and pushing against that sweet spot inside you. “I’m not the cruel one.”

They’re both cruel, you think, but that’s the only thing going through your mind because you’re pretty sure you’re going to go fucking crazy, your pussy is so hot you feel like you’re melting around him but you keep at Alisa’s cunt because you want to be good, want to be their good girl, want to be their good little kitty.

You want to be theirs.

“Please—please, can I, can I? Please let me, please I need you to let me…” you beg—somewhere in the back of your mind you know you’re going to hate yourself for giving in to them tomorrow but you want it so so so bad and you can’t cum without their permission, you can’t, you can’t be bad again.

“Well…what do you think, Alisa? Has she earned it?” There’s a growl in Lev’s voice—is he holding himself back? Yesss… He’s slowing down, fucking you up from the inside and the outside, pulling that heat out of you, making you squeal and whine and plead just like he said he would.

You want to, you need to, need to earn it, be good make Alisa feel good earn it—fuck, you have to try harder, and you flutter your tongue over her clit through her panties as well as you can, knowing you’re being sloppy but you don’t know how to help it. She waits a long moment and then sighs, pulling her fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face so you can look up at her, those pretty pretty eyes looking down at yours so indulgently. Adoringly. Like you’re something to be cherished. “Mm…yes.”

And that’s all it takes.

Your mouth falls open and your pussy does something, convulsing—

“—cumming I’m cumming Lev, A-Alisa—“

fuck, can’t breathe why can’t you breathe? something digging into your throat—

Lev’s, Lev’s hand under the choker dragging you upright tightening cutting off the sounds coming out of your mouth, choking your scream into a pathetic little mewl so he can hold your body up next to him while he fucks you through your climax—you can feel your face turning pink, your cunny holding around him, squeezing him so tight he can barely move but he still does, hips thrusting against your ass, the pleasure so bright and heavy you’re seeing sparks, head rushing, or maybe that’s just the lack of oxygen,

too tight the choker’s too tight you bring your hand back and tap against Lev’s and he lets go immediately. “Shit—sorry, are you alright? Can you breathe?”

You can feel him pulling out, and just that movement is enough to set off another round of clenching in your pussy. You’re sputtering, throat contracting in time with your cunt, not too painful. Just raw.

“Try to breathe, (Y/N),” Lev repeats, stroking down your back to soothe you. He sounds worried, and…that’s your name, isn’t it? It’s been a while since you heard one of them actually say your name instead of just kitten or kitty or kotyonok. It’s not like you can really bother pretending you’re not at least a little bit into the nickname, but hearing your real name out of his mouth stokes some kind of soft, nervous pleasure in you. And goddamn, you do not have the brainpower to analyze why.

It takes a moment for you to catch your breath—the air tastes sweeter than it did a minute ago—and then you roll over. “Did...did you cum?”

Lev shakes his head. You turn toward Alisa, and she just pats your cheek—of course she didn’t cum. Which means you’ve gotten to cum twice, and you didn’t get either of them off.

You bite your lip, turn to the side, and try not to let your eyes water for the—third? fourth?—time tonight. “I’m sorry, I—I’ll do it again, I’ll be better—“

“No,” Alisa says gently, adjusting her position to sit next to you and kiss your forehead. “You were so good, (Y/N).”

Lev mirrors her actions on the other side so you’re bracketed by the two of them. After a second of stillness to gauge your comfort, he starts undoing the clasps at the back of the choker and massaging his fingers over the tender skin underneath. You sniffle and then feel him lay his chin on the top of your head, arrange his arm over your side. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You know we like you no matter what, right?”

Alisa nods in agreement, pupils coming to a rest on the skin of your throat as she helps Lev remove the tangle of red satin straps from your body. “Our perfect little kitten. Who’s a good girl?”

Kitten.

Your stomach drops. Not your name. Just kitten.

It must be the twentieth time she’s called you that tonight, but somehow this time it’s different. You cringe, feeling cold where she touches you, but that doesn’t stop her from wiping away the smeared mascara and tear tracks from your cheeks. When you try to flinch away from her, Lev huffs out an annoyed breath and pushes you back into place. “Myesto. Stay.”

It’s a command. Like you would give to an animal. When you freeze, Alisa smiles and then she’s tilting your chin up with her fingers and bringing the camera—the camera, you forgot about the camera—to your throat so she can capture the mess of pink lines and indentations from where the choker bit into your neck…

…and who are you kidding? It’s not a choker, it’s a fucking collar. And you’re not their lover, or their girlfriend, or even their fuckbuddy.

You’re their pet.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #lev haiba x reader #alisa haiba x reader #yandere haikyuu #haiba lev x reader #haiba alisa x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #lev haiba #haiba lev #alisa haiba #haiba alisa #haikyuu #lev x reader #alisa x reader #haikyuu spoilers #hq x reader #hq imagines #yandere

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castielgurl · 3 years

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Football is a game, Love is like a battlefield

Romanogers Week

Prompt: Enemy to lovers

Natasha Romanoff is a football player of Russian descent. Red-haired with a dreadlock style, she likes to wear piercing on her nose and hates makeup. She likes to change the color of her hair, sometimes braided or even short hair exactly like a man. She is very fierce and does not care about negative comments on her Instagram page. As a famous female soccer star, she is often the victim of attacks by male soccer fans. They said she shouldn't play football, it's better to stay in the kitchen. Just because she’s a women’s soccer player. Natasha is often involved in anti-social media bullying campaigns.

Natasha is now at the peak of her career. She has joined the big London -born club Chelsea Woman`s FC with the highest transfer value in the market. Has won the Women's English Premier League. Won the European Cup with her country Russia. She is a midfielder who is the team captain for her club and country. Natasha has just been awarded European Player of the Year. Natasha is a person known for her assertive leader character and violent style of play. However, Natasha's life changed forever when she met her future husband.

Steve Rogers had a bad boy image. Even so, he became a young girl’s craze pretending to know about football. Because he is a tall, lean body, six-pack, white skin, blonde hair. Every time he played football, the girls would scream like they were hysteria. Steve has of course been dating a bunch of beautiful women from models to a famous actresses.

Like Natasha, Steve is also a world-famous football player. He represents Chelsea FC, has won the Premier League title three times. Won the Champions League with Chelsea with him as the top scorer. Steve also represented his country USA at the World Cup. He is the captain of his club and country team. Steve is a striker who is known for his fast running style and energy as strong as a bodybuilder. Steve has won World Player of the Year twice.

Because they play at the same club. The two finally met on the training ground. The training fields for male and female players are only separated by a fence. Since the two of them have opposite characters of course disaster is about to happen.

It all started just because of a ball. Steve was challenged by his teammates for a crossbar challenge he kicked too hard accidentally falling into the women’s training field area. The ball, unfortunately, hit right on Natasha's head. Natasha's face flushed with anger. She then shouted and ask who kicked the ball earlier. Natasha took the ball, she knew the ball did not belong to the women’s team. Natasha went across the fence to the men's field area and kicked the ball hard against the body of one of the male players. He was not in pain but the player turned around.

“Who is the dumbass who kicked the ball? You better talk now! ” Natasha's voice was fierce.

"Eh, why are you shouting. Are you on your period? ” The blonde man laughed cynically.

Natasha was very angry, not that she didn't know who the player was. Steve Rogers aka football Hollywood star. But Natasha didn't care who he was.

“Are you too stupid? Don't know how to play football? Why do you kick the ball and hit people`s heads? You want my feet to reach your face? ” Natasha insisted on fighting even though she is too tiny and Steve was six feet tall.

Steve laughed when he heard this little woman scold him. He was not immediately intimidated by Natasha's threats. She was like a puppy that barked loudly but was too cute. This woman with dreadlock hair reminds him of rapper Snoop Dog.

“This is a football field, what do you expect? of course, the ball flying everywhere why are you so angry? If the ball hits your face that's a good sign. At least it can fix your face” Said Steve as his friends laughed as well.

Natasha's face grew red. Then she tries to elbow Steve's. Steve wants to fight back but his friends stop him. They said he only looked like a coward if he hit a woman. Steve assured his teammates he would not use the physical.

"You are too rude. Do you think you're good-looking? I know guys like you, playboys, and sleep with a lot of women. But the fact is you are nothing. No one loves you. They are just riding on your success. ” Natasha stared sharply into Steve's eyes. That's when Steve slightly faded his ego. Because the green woman's eyes were so beautiful Steve admitted it. But he returned with his ego.

"I am not afraid of you. Your body is small. I can carry you and keep you in my pocket ”said Steve with a cynical smile.

"You start first. Why don't you just apologize? ” Natasha doesn't understand.

"If you are still not satisfied. What do you say we play a game? Whoever wins will have the right to ask the losers to do what they want. ” Steve wanted to challenge her.

"What game?" Natasha asked

“We play matches with five players per team like 5-A Side. We play on the East End outdoor field boys versus girls. What do you want to say? ” Steve is sure Natasha did not back down from a challenge.

“Well, we will meet tomorrow at 5 after training. But you have to do what I want. Don't begging when you lose later ”Natasha did not hesitate to agree. She wanted to teach this man a lesson.

"Fine, I will see you tomorrow Snoop Dog," Steve said while laughing at Natasha's reaction.

Natasha’s teammate asks her if she seriously wants to fight with the men’s team. Natasha is sure they can win.

"Nat, are you sure about fighting with male players. They are not ordinary players. They have just won the European League they are World-class players. Steve is a highly-skilled player. ” Her friend Yelena tries to change Nat's mind.

"Hey, don't be afraid, we are also the best team in Europe. Male and female players are the same. What matters is the strategy to win. We are equal with them. After all, Rogers needs to be taught a lesson. If his team loses he and his team must wear a drag queen costume. Imagine how funny that is. ”Natasha was convinced

"I think Steve is hot. How can you talk to him, if it happens to me I will be speechless ”said Yelena who is a Rogers fan

“Hey, don't you see that asshole? You didn't hear him call me Snoop Dog. ”Natasha cannot believe Yelena.

Yelena continued to laugh out loud. She admits it's very funny. Yet Steve spoke the right thing. Natasha is not good at dress up. Many times Yelena wants to do a makeover with Natasha. But she rejected it because she thought the way she dressed was not important because the performance is what matters.

“Really? You laughing. Well, his face is not bad. But on the condition that he cannot speak up. On his forehead he should be written Jerk, then people will stay away from him ”Natasha really hated Steve's sloppy mouth.

"Nat, you have to be careful because too much hate can lead to love" Yelena teased

"Hey you don't see us anymore we are the worst enemies from the past life"

The next day.

Natasha has selected five players including herself Maria, Wanda, Yelena, and Hope to represent her team. While Steve chooses Bucky, Sam, Scott, and Clint on his side.

"You call me Snoop Dog, I also have a bad name for you" Natasha and Steve meet in the middle of the field before the match starts

"What is it?" Steve stood with his hands on his hips

“Barbie Kent. If your team loses you have to wear a women’s dress to the training session. You will definitely lose ”Natasha said confidently

“Woww you are playing dirty now huh?. If your team loses you and your friends have to wash my car in a bikini ”Steve said with a smirk.

Natasha should teach this man a lesson.

Natasha’s team took the lead with a goal from Wanda. Steve initially wanted his friend’s not to play rough because they were girls. But after the goal, Steve told his teammates to use their full strength. After that, a lot of fouls ensued. Steve's team managed to score two goals from Steve`s. The match was not the most interesting but various incidents of fights between Steve and Natasha quarreling over various issues. Everyone was so depressed to see them both throwing hurtful words at each other. The sexual tension between them is very obvious. Before the end of the match, Natasha successfully scored an equalizer. She jumped for joy in front of Steve. Yet drama ensued when Natasha’s team asked the referee to consider a penalty when Bucky tackled Maria inside the box but was objected to by Steve. Eventually, they quarreled and everyone else was only able to see them quarrel. All the players have given up and just want to end the match. The result of the match ended in a draw. No one loses no one wins.

“Why don't you two go in the room and just make love? Seriously that's the solution to your problem, ”Scott told them

Their reactions were both disbelieving and showing disgusted faces thinking they were both going to have sex. Natasha definitely wants to vomit. Eventually, they returned to their respective homes feeling dissatisfied.

Then every day Natasha bumps into Steve. Because they practice in the same building. Somehow every day will definitely come across. Natasha wanted to avoid seeing Steve's arrogant face. They will meet before entering the training ground, in the club cafe, in the gym, in the parking lot, in the elevator. Wherever they will surely meet. Every time Steve would tease Natasha he deliberately wanted to make her mad. Call her Snoopy, and ask when she will release a new rap song and so on. Of course, Natasha hates Steve’s jokes. Natasha will also ask where he is partying with the barbies.

Steve's day was not complete if he didn't see the redhead's face every day. Natasha's face flushed when she was angry, her husky voice when she grunts, he loved hearing Natasha fight back when Steve teased her. She was a bit funny when angry, she was a little fierce but she looks cute when her face was red, she will bite her lips when she felt disgusted with the words Steve threw, it was a sexy lip for Steve. Also, her tiny size when trying to standing on her toes. Steve has met many pretty women, yet Natasha catches his eye. Natasha is not the same as other women. Honestly, Natasha is very beautiful but if she changes her appearance, surely many men will chase after her. Steve imagines she wearing a red dress with curly hair for sure he will be mesmerized. She is just as passionate about football as he is. Most of the girls he met were not interested in football. Steve searches all the information about Natasha on the internet and stalks her Instagram. His teammates knew Steve had lost his mind over the red-haired woman.

But the question is does Natasha want to accept him? And how does he get started? The woman must have hated him so much.

Then the football season is about to end, all the players will take a summer vacation. After that, they will join the national training camp in preparation for the World Cup. The Chelsea club hosted a Gala Night to award the club’s best players for the season. This season the club combines an awards ceremony for the men’s team and the women’s team.

When Natasha Romanoff’s name was announced as the Women`s Player of the 2021 season she took on the stage. Steve and all his teammates were speechless as she wore a sexy red gown. Her hair was styled in a curled and she ditched her piercing. She's the most beautiful woman Steve has ever seen. Steve starts to feel jealous because all the men are focused on her. Steve doesn't like other men looking at his women.

After Steve received the best player award for the third year he wanted to take his boots in the club boot`s storage room. But something unexpected happened Natasha was also there. Natasha thought Steve was going to make a nonsensical joke because of the dress she was wearing tonight. Natasha hates wearing it she was forced by Yelena. Yet Steve didn't say anything to her surprise.

“Why don`t you say something, like a bad joke? Yelena picks this dress ”Natasha expected a response from Steve.

“Why should I do that? Do you want me to fight with you until we are both old? ” Steve continued to pick up his boots on the top rack.

Natasha came to stand behind Steve. “What is wrong with you today? This is not you. ”Natasha knew something was wrong

“Do you know who I am? Do you really know me? ” Steve turned and stared into Natasha's eyes. Inside he wanted to drag the woman into his arms. Because she looks so pretty tonight. But he keeps his composure.

The question startled Natasha.

"I just don't understand why you like to fight with me. There are many more female players out there that you can choose to fight. ” Natasha still doesn't understand what Steve's intentions are.

“You really want to know the truth. Well, I'll tell you now. Because I love to see your angry face, I love to see your red face, your lips, your staring eyes, your sexy voice, your feet when trying to stand on your toes, your style before kicking the ball. You are really cute. I like you Natasha ”Steve approached Natasha closer

Natasha doesn't believe in Steve Rogers' words. Maybe he drank too much alcohol.

"Actually I love you, Natasha Romanoff. All I do is to get your attention. ” Steve said as he stared into Natasha's eyes.

Then Steve grabbed Natasha's chin and kissed her lips. Natasha froze and couldn't resist the man's kiss. Then she realized and pushed him away and ran out of the room.

When she returned home Natasha could not sleep. Her heart was pounding after being kissed by Steve Rogers. What the hell? Steve Rogers expressed his feelings to her. Natasha turned to the right and to the left trying to forget the man but in her heart, it was like in turmoil. She thought Steve hated her and she hated him too. Yet she turned out to be wrong and unable to resist his charmed. Kissed by Steve like she was struck by lightning.

The next day Natasha and Steve meet again on the training ground. Natasha looked at Steve from a distance and waited if the man wanted to taunt her or laugh at her. But he was so different he just kept quiet and even stole Natasha's gaze when he thought Natasha wasn't looking at him. And when Steve and Natasha meet in the hallway Steve stares at Natasha's face. Like Natasha is the only person who is on his mind every day. Steve and Natasha just stood nearby and stared at each other. Their teammates bump them who were staring into each other’s eyes. Wondering what really happened between the two of them.

A few weeks later Natasha and Steve flew to Qatar to compete in the World Cup. For the first time, the men’s team and the women’s team will compete at the same time. Natasha and Steve both focused on the biggest tournament of their careers. Natasha, who represented Russia, excelled in the competition. And her team managed to win the World Cup for the first time. But of course, attention is given to men's football. Steve Rogers stole the show by winning the golden boots award and Player of the tournament. Even though the USA only made it to the semi-finals, it was still an incredible achievement. Natasha watched the semi-finals matched in the stadium with the fans. Steve spotted the red-haired woman easily despite a hundred thousand people in the stadium. Natasha let her hair down and donned a USA jersey while cheering for his team.

Natasha then turned around to show the jersey she was wearing with Rogers' name on the back. Steve smiled when he saw that and she giving him a flying kiss.

After the match, Natasha and Steve met in the tunnel. Their teammates force them to acknowledge each other’s feelings.

"I also really like you, Steve Rogers. So are we going to date now? ”Natasha asked Steve.

"There are only two things in my mind that are football and you. You drive me crazy. Let`s date then ”Steve said while opening his both arms.

Natasha who is only five feet three tall looks cute jumping to hug Steve Rogers who is six feet tall.

"Even though I didn't win this match, but I won your heart," Steve said as he swings around Natasha on the air. Then they kissed in the tunnel of the football stadium. The kiss happened so passionately that they didn’t notice the photographer was taking a picture of them. The breaking news when the two big stars of world football are couple overshadow the story of the England team winning the World Cup.

A few years later Steve Rogers and Natasha were about to get married and it became the wedding of the year as the union of the two best football stars in the world had sparked a phenomenon. All the tabloid newspapers have already started figuring out how their child will be born later because he or she is will definitely a great football player because of the DNA of both their parents.

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #romanogersweek #captain america #black widow #stevenat

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familyagrestefanblog · 4 years

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Shadow Moth forshadowing detail + S4 Theory

I kinda just noticed something about Gabriels design concerning his Miraculous and I'm a bit mind blown right now tbh

I always thought it was odd that the character designers chose to hide the quite small butterfly brooch under a much bigger tie

Of course, as one can see in the transformation sequence, that "problem" gets solved when Nooroo activates the Miraculous. In the active Form the butterfly miraculous would indeed require a bigger hiding place such as a tie but the thing is, when the miraculous IS activated Gabriel doesn't wear the tie. So that "solution" is invalidated.

Its nothing that ever really bothered me much, I just found it ODD because they could have chosen anything for his casual wear but they stuck with something unnecessary big concidering the size of the object they want to hide with it.

But THEN I just remembered Shadow Moth from the upcoming s4 and... dude, the tie covering so much more space underneath than needed for the Butterfly miraculous was totally not a random decision.

The placements of the butterfly and peacock miraculous' actually line up perfectly with the size of the tie.

As I said the butterfly miraculous increases its size quite alot, it would probably cover almost half of the hidden area. But half also indicates that there is still space left and that remaining space is just right for the peacock miraculous

Looking at Natalies design both as her civilian self and as Mayura one can clearly see that the peacock is placed on a lower point as the butterfly.

And I just noticed how brilliantly they included the turtlenecks and "around areas" into her designs. Mayura doesn't need the same "upper space" as Hawkmoth does so she has all of that neck fluff. Whereas with Natalies normal clothing the red shirt area now looks actually "well used" and complete, where formerly it looked quite empty. Not too much to be off putting but seeing the peacock there on her civilian design feels like the missing piece of her design finally was added

But let me come back to this in a second, there is something else I wanna finish up first.

Thinking about the fact that the butterfly miraculous get alot bigger I noticed that it certainly is no coincidence either that Mayuras Miraculous stays the same size

As I showed right at the beginning the activated butterfly would take up so much space that, with taking Gabriels clothing layout into account, the peacock miraculous (as the second one added to his character) wouldn't be allowed to change in size because it wouldn't look visually appealing anymore. So both Natalies and Gabriels civilian designs were modelled from the get - go in a way that the peacock can stay the same size.

But all of this still leaves open some big implications. The way I am showcasing it implies that:

1. Gabriel is going to wear the peacock often and for long enough to justify setting up his character model with it in mind. I was always certain that Shadow Moth is not a combination we will only get to see 1 or 2 times but when I now realize that him wearing the peacock as well is apperently such a crucial aspect of his character arc that they set it up on this scale, I do have to wonder what's the plan here and how it'll correspond to

2. Unlike Gabriels civilian design, Natalies "completed" one including the peacock miraculous straight up implies that she won't be hiding it AT ALL. That's actually the most interesting aspect about this when I think about it. Sure the other miraculous from our heros aren't hidden either but one would think that Natalie would know better than to just wear a peacock pin out in broad daylight at the same spot Mayura does. Especially considering that Gabriel IS going to hide both Miraculous. There needs to be a reason why for it's okay for Natalie when it's so obviously not for Gabriel.

And I might actually have an answer for this

Ever since the Fandom very early caught onto the hints that Emilie was the former peacock miraculous holder a very specific thought came up and kinda stayed with some fans (me included) and I think we actually weren't off with that assumption at all.

The thought im talking about is of course the idea that in "the collector" Adrien didn't reacted to the peacock miraculous because for him it is simply a very dear and special jewelry of his mother. So seeing that his father is keeping it in his safe is not something that should come with much of a surprise. Hence why he didn't.

"But what does this have to do with Natalie?", you might ask and I say it actually could be quite simple at this point.

The show is making no secret out of Gabriel starting to fall in love with Natalie as well. The new york special even had him placing a PINK rose onto Emilies coffin instead of a red one, which as we know from "Weredad" symbolizes a platonic love.

Gabenath is happening (how it'll end is another question tho). With all of the set up and development to this point I actually DO would say that Gabriel will start moving on with Natalie (but will of course stay Hawkmoth and terrorize Paris because his quest has become less and less for his family and more for his own selfish and sadistic ego) which makes her suddenly wearing a peacock pin actually not suspicious at all.

In the eyes of the public and especially ADRIEN it would simply mean that Gabriel has fallen in love again and that Natalie has now reached the level of belonging in the Agreste family that she is now wearing the very special jewelry of Emilie. Bonus points if Adrien gives his blessing for her wearing it as well and ends up being the factor why she wears it from then on all the time because if we are gonna rip his heart out with the reveals, let's at least do it properly

But that still doesn't explain the paradoxical set up of Natalie wearing the miraculous permanently openly and Gabriels model being designed to wear the peacock much more often than we initially thought.

Well this is where I will go once again even deeper into theory land, if your interested in that, read further under the cut:

A possibility here is that Gabriel Miraculous jewelry collection comes into play.

It's an aspect of the show that has hardly been used til now and it would provide a solid solution for the problem. The piece of jewelry Natalie wears draws no suspicion to itself if it's seen at the same time Hawkmoth wears both the butterfly and the peacock.

I definitely don't think Natalie will wear it right from the beginning of the season, it'll most likely come through development and a special dedicated episode. My guess is on the forshadowed Sabine as "Verity Queen" and it'll be a mother's day episode.

Marinette has so much to do because of her duties as Ladybug and guardian that she can't spend the day with her mother because she has to leave constantly, leading Sabine to just want to know what her daughter is doing so important that mothers day isn't important anymore. Cue akumatization. In the same episode I see Adrien (after the Marinette& Sabine reunion scene) really welcoming Natalie as his new mother right up front to her and maybe even taking the peacock pin (his mothers "dear jewelry") out of Gabriels safe to give it to her as a symbol that she's for him his new mother figure.

Prior he would have seen Gabriel with the pin in his hand and thinking which Adrien interprets as "Father is thinking about moving on with Natalie" but as the peacock pin is not just that (and Gabriel refuses (but actually does want to) to move on properly) that interpretation is not quite all of the truth. So Adrien is the one to (ironically) give Natalie the miraculous permanently because even if his father still refuses to move on and take the opportunity to be happy again, that won't stop Adrien from having a new mother. You can have a new mother (figure) without your other parent making the official move first.

This is so sweet and heartbreaking and HORRIBLE at the same time, it’s totally something Miraculous would do! The show never hold back really using the double identities for stark contrast or set up for a brutal pay off (especially with the Agrestes which can only result in a disaster at this point).

Of course this is just one idea, not saying it'll 100% happen like this, it's just a possibility I really really like (Also for Sabine).

"Varity Queen" imo being near the middle of the season Gabriel and Natalie would afterwards definitely need the fake peacock miraculous from Gabriels jewelry line (A fake Peacock IS something said in a tweet a while ago I just can't find it anymore) as a cover up because Natalie will have to/WANT to wear the pin Adrien gave her from then on permanently. So while Gabriel brings chaos as Shadow Moth Natalie wears the fake Miraculous as civilian.

Or... You know...

Since Natalie was the one parent in the forshadow episode "Chat Blanc" who was shown to be genuinely upset and shocked that Adrien turned out to be Chat Noir (whereas Gabriel skyrocketed his cunt level to a new level) and then wasn't to be seen anymore later with Hawkmoth in the fight, maybe after finding out about Adriens identity which is forshadowed like crazy Gabriel thinks he's gonna have to take some... precautions concerning Natalie loyalty since Adrien and her are forming a strong mother/ son bond (while Gabriel himself becomes a more and more horrible father. And Him being the “loving family father who would do anything for his family” is what Natalie loves him for) and he fears Natalie will choose Adrien over him. So a fake Miraculous will definitely come in handy while he can properly hide the real one under his tie (which of course doesn't mean he'll be the one to keep the real Miraculous in the end)

It's a possibility. Something like this is VERY likely to happen in my opinien because I personally can't see how this family tragedy is supposed to end up as anything else than in flames after the reveals (including Adriens and Natalies bond) so this is the way I see their future.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml season 4 theory #ml spoilers #ml theory #Shadow Moth #Gabriel Agreste #Hawkmoth #natalie sancoeur #mayura #adrien agreste #Chat Noir #Mama bear Natalie #Mamayura and Son Noir #Dadmoth can go and fuck himself #Natalie is on THIN ice right now #Their mother/son bond is gonna be beautiful so it can rip everyones hearts out later

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bluefuckboy · 4 years

Text

Summer Jasmine ✨

Kiribaku A/B/O (Omegaverse)

Alpha Kirishima and Omega Bakugo

Summary: Bakugo has been a single father for three years, after a one night stand with an unknown Alpha resulted in him becoming pregnant. He has always struggled with being an Omega, but has been successful at hiding his true identity, including now while raising his daughter, Yuki. After an incident at preschool, he is called into a parent teacher conference. But what was supposed to be a simple meeting turns out to be a twist of so called “fate.” Bakugo questions whether the difficult journey he’s endured has led to this Alpha, whose scent is like a peaceful, summer breeze.

I’ll be posting the full fic on AO3 soon. It’s about 10 chapters or so and approximately 15K. The name comes from a song released in 1972 called “Summer Breeze” by Seals & Crofts. I’ll explain more when the full fic is released, but go give it a listen as it’s a good, calming song.

This is the first chapter with a note at the end on how the a/b/o universe is structured for this fic

Trigger Warnings: implications of assault against Omegas (including brief mention of attempted rape), mpreg, mentions of abortion, issues dealing with self-hate and struggles with gender identity in terms of secondary gender of a/b/o, later chapters are nsfw

@slackslumber I’m sorry this turned out to be a light novel

Bakugo glanced up at the plate next to the classroom door.

Kirishima E.

Pre-K

He inhaled and ran a hand through his hair, which he had attempted to tame in vain. It wasn’t his first parent teacher conference. Yuki was an unruly child and was becoming even more so as she got older. This time she had tried to bite the ear of another kid and Bakugo was prepared for another dull lecture from a dull teacher who didn’t know a thing about actually raising kids.

He let the breath he had been holding out and gripped the doorknob, giving it a turn. The room was set up like any normal Pre-K classroom would be. There were little brightly colored chairs in groups, large matts with the letters of the alphabet and numbers adorned the floor and model planets hung from the ceiling.

At the front of the classroom was a large desk at which sat a man with bright red hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail. He was dressed in a nice button up, sans tie, with the top couple buttons undone. Rimmed glasses sat perched atop his nose and he pushed them up with the butt of a pencil as he stared at the stack of papers in front of him.

Bakugo cleared his throat and the man looked up.

“Oh! Sorry,” he got up and went to extend a hand to Bakugo, “I’m Kirishima, you must be Yuki’s dad.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Bakugo replied, shaking the hand offered to him.

Kirishima was tall and Bakugo opted to stare at his feet clad in worn dress shoes instead of trying to meet the amber eyes of the teacher. Kirishima motioned for Bakugo to take a seat at a chair that had been moved in front of the desk.

Bakugo sat down, crossing his arms out of habit. He tended to keep to himself and that extended to his interactions with other people. He didn’t want to draw any extra attention to himself.

Kirishima seemed to be the complete opposite. It was clear he was well suited for the job he was in. Bakugo could see children’s drawings hung on the wall behind Kirishima. Little stick figures with crude faces. There were a couple that had a character with spiky red scribbled on top of its head. They had shaky letters drawn next to the stick figure that read “Mr. K.”

Kirishima moved the stack of papers to the side, and set his glasses atop it. He gave Bakugo a toothy smile and Bakugo noticed the sharpness of his canines. His brow furrowed and he tensed a bit. He didn’t particularly care for Alphas, so he was usually a little wary around them.

But Kirishima’s eyes were soft and warm. There was a small scar by one of his eyebrows and Bakugo noticed he had the makings of crows feet at the corner of his eyes despite his youthful appearance. They were probably from smiling so wide that he looked almost like a shark.

Kirishima picked up the pencil he had earlier and twirled it as he said, “I hate having meetings like this, so I’m sorry if I seem a little bit unprofessional.”

Bakugo didn’t reply and Kirishima continued, “Yuki is wonderful. She’s very bright for her age and does great with her grades. But she seems, hmm, how do I put this.”

He tapped the pencil against his temple in thought, his bottom lip sucked under his top teeth. His expression turned to concern as he spoke again.

“It feels like Yuki is lashing out, so that’s why I wanted to talk with you.”

Bakugo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he said, “I can make her apologize to that boy and his parents. We had a conversation about using our words and stuff.”

Kirishima waved his hand. “No no it’s not that. Well, it is a part of it. But not the main reason I called you here.”

Kirishima sighed and sat back in his chair. “I care a lot about my students. It’s kinda silly but I think of them as my own kids sometimes. So I want them to do well. But not just in school.”

His cheeks tinged red slightly. “I know it’s not my place to butt in on people’s personal lives, so I apologize if I offend you, but I’m just concerned that this might be something for Yuki that is bigger than the classroom.”

He turned to reach behind him, grabbing a picture off the wall that Bakugo hadn’t noticed during his initial glance at the artwork. Kirishima placed it in front of him and Bakugo looked down at it.

It was a picture of a little stick figure girl with a bright pink bow in her hair. She was standing next to a figure of a man who was holding the black line that was the stick figure girl’s hand. The word “Daddy” had been written next to the figure in legible handwriting that must have been from a TA or something.

The background of the photo was scribbled with a blue sky and green grass, with a little house in the distance. But there was an area that was left blank, a white spot on the other side of the girl. Her little stick hand was surrounded by the white, almost as though she was trying to reach for something. “Yuki” was written in large shaky letters at the bottom of the paper.

Bakugo’s heart clenched as Kirishima spoke softly.

“This was from a week ago. We had draw your family as our art project. I don’t want to pry or assume anything, but when I asked Yuki what the white spot was, it seemed to make her upset.”

Bakugo could feel his cheeks getting hot. He wasn’t sure how to reply. It was obvious that he didn’t have a partner, and being a single parent wasn’t unusual. Rather it was the fact that in their society he wouldn’t be considered Yuki’s father.

Bakugo’s silence made Kirishima redden a bit more and he said, “I’m sorry if this is sore subject. I’m just concerned.”

“It’s fine,” Bakugo spat.

The words came out more defensive than he meant them too and Kirishima’s eyebrows knit together closer with concern. Then he asked the question Bakugo always dreaded he’d hear.

“Can I ask you about Yuki’s mother?”

Bakugo swallowed and tried to compose himself before speaking again.

“I’m raising Yuki on my own. Her mother is…”

He trailed off as his heart started beating faster. He was always so cautious and he knew that he should tell Kirishima to mind his own god damn business. But something about the calmness in Kirishima’s voice and his genuine smile made Bakugo feel like this was a safe space.

He tried to push down the ball of anxiety buzzing in his chest as he gripped the sides of the chair and said quietly, “It’s Yuki’s father, not her mother. I… I’m the one who gave birth to her.”

The admonition seemed to hang in the air and Bakugo hung his head. It shouldn’t be something he was ashamed about. Male Omegas were rare and it was even rarer for one to be able to give birth. They called it a “True Omega” and the odds were about one in a nearly half a million. It was a rarity that was often exploited, which was why Bakugo had kept it secret, even from Yuki when she asked why she didn’t have a mommy like the other kids at the playground.

The classroom was deadly quiet and Bakugo’s adrenaline was nearing the fight or flight stage, but then Kirishima spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I care about Yuki a lot, so I promise I won’t make things any more difficult. And if I can help in anyway, I’d be more than happy to.”

The offer caught Bakugo off guard and he finally looked up. Kirishima’s expression was one Bakugo had only seen on the face of characters from the movies he used to watch as a kid. A look that made you feel safe and protected, almost like a knight in shining armor. Kirishima smiled and it felt like a weight had been lifted from Bakugo’s chest. Even the air seemed clearer and he realized his knuckles had turned white from his death grip on the chair.

He let go, but regretted it as his hands started shaking. It felt like he was coming down from a panic attack and he felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks. He flushed from embarrassment and ducked his head into his lap.

It was mortifying, but he couldn’t stop and his whole body trembled as he wrapped his arms round himself. Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks and he wanted to melt into the floor. But suddenly there was an aroma like a summer breeze.

It wrapped around him and as he inhaled shakily his trembling started to stop. His whole body felt like it was being enveloped in a warm embrace from the inside out. It was a comforting, almost faintly familiar scent and he could feel his muscles relax as the tears gradually started to subside.

A tissue appeared in front of him and he realized that Kirishima had come around the desk to kneel beside him. Bakugo reached out a shaky hand to accept the tissue. As he did, the tips of his fingers brushed against Kirishima’s.

It was the briefest of contact, but it felt like little sparks had ignited from where the pads of their fingers had touched. Bakugo looked to see if Kirishima had experienced a similar feeling, but his face was still etched with worry. His hand on the back of the chair did tighten slightly however and Bakugo’s heart rate went up despite not knowing what he was expecting.

But then Kirishima was standing up again, taking the smell of the summer breeze with him. It made Bakugo realize what had happened and he looked at Kirishima with an expression between anger and fear.

“Did you just use pheromones on me?”

A/B/O Universe Notes

Alpha/Omega changes occur at puberty

Secondary sex characteristics manifest. Alphas will go through a growth spurt and will eventually grow their “fangs.” Omegas will have their first heat. Both will begin to emit pheromones and part of growing up is being able to control them. However, thanks to modern medicine, blockers makes it much easier.

70% of the population is Beta

Betas are essentially normal humans. They can procreate with each other and don’t experience a rut or a heat.

20% of the population is Alpha

They are considered a superior form of human. Physically they are usually a bit taller, able to gain muscle very easily, and have lots of stamina.

A unique characteristic of the Alpha are their fangs. They manifest during puberty and are attached to glands in the Alphas mouth. During arousal, while in rut, or even a rush of adrenaline can cause an Alpha’s fangs to descend slightly from the gum line and is referred to as “baring.” The canine teeth are connected directly to the glands and are the sharpest and most prominent, but the lateral incisor will also sharpen slightly during puberty. When an Alpha bares their fangs, the canines will become extremely pronounced. When marking, the fangs are used to puncture the skin and can secrete fluid from the glands in order to mark an Omega.

An Alpha will experience a rut occasionally. During this time they will become fixated on mating and can become irrational. Ruts are sporadic and with the help of blockers, most Alphas are able to avoid rut.

10% of the population is Omega

Generally thought of as the “weakest sex” Omegas are usually smaller in frame and it is hard for them to gain muscle. They can become pregnant regardless of gender, but male Omegas are not common. Impregnating a male Omega is also extremely difficult, unless they are a “True Omega” Most male Omegas are recessive.

The Omega experiences an estrus period, or heat, once a month. It will make them want to breed, same as the Alpha’s rut. Unlike a rut, blockers have no effect on the estrus period. During the estrus, an Omega will become wet, secreting what is referred to as slick, making it easier for an Alpha to enter them. For female Omegas it is secreted vaginally, for male Omegas it is secreted anally. However, male Omegas often produce significantly less slick during the estrus period and the chances of pregnancy are very low.

True Omegas are a phenomenon where the body is fully Omega, regardless of gender. The person will be able to be impregnated easily, even if they are male, and their estrus periods are often more intense. The percentage of True Omegas that have been reported is less than 1%.

Copulation:

Between Betas it’s exactly how it works in regular humans.

Between an Alpha and an Omega there are a few more factors. Pheromones play a part in intercourse, both in initiating and during. Slick makes it very easy for an Alpha to enter an Omega. During intercourse the Alpha is able to “knot” an Omega if significantly aroused, or in rut. Knotting lets the Alpha stay connected to the Omega for an extended period of time. Ejaculation is delayed while the Alpha is knotting. Once knotted, an Alpha will ejaculate numerous times into the Omega. Knotting can last for a few seconds, to over an hour. The physical knot is a gland at the base of an Alpha’s penis that will swell in the Omega, causing them to become stuck together until the Alpha finishes ejaculation or is rendered incapacitated.

Pregnancy

For Betas it is around a normal gestational period of 9 months. For Omegas it is shorter, usually around 4 to 5 months. Children of Omegas tend to be on the smaller side, regardless of the parents genders.

Fated Mates/Pairs

This is regarded as a fantastical idea, but has never been proven as fact or fiction. A fated pair consists of an Alpha and Omega who are so compatible, it’s almost like fate has brought them together. Some claim to have experienced almost a supernatural pull to their partner, but scientists have labeled it the evolution of compatibility making it easier for Alphas and Omegas to select the best mate for them.

#kiribaku #kiribaku au #kiribaku fanfic #kiribaku fanfiction #kiribaku omegaverse #kiribaku abo #krbk #krbk abo #krbk omegaverse #alpha kirishima #omega bakugou

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Sebastian Stan - We’re a team

Mixing two requests, @squishybebe about an interviewer being rude to the reader (I know you said flirtry, but this is what came out, I’m sorry!) and an anon about his son interrupting a meeting. I hope you all like it!

Plot: no interview is boring since having your adorable four year old son, who needs his father as much as he needs him.

To say that Sebastian was bored was an understatement. It had reached a point where he had just resigned himself with looking at the guy in front of him and nodding a little when required.

The questions were too predictable; how did it feel to be playing one of the characters in something as big as the MCU, how was it to work with great actors like Evans or Downey, and how had it been his work out routine that had gotten him fit for the films. The interview wasn’t anymore about his new film, Endings Begging, but more about gossip. Even if he didn’t talk much, the guy was answering himself as he did the question.

“And did you have to cut on any type of specific food, like burgers and other stuff?” he asked and didn’t stop to let him answer. “Because I’ve seen your TV spot about ‘cheat day’ and you seemed pretty eager – you actually ate it after it cut off?”

Sebastian gave him a tight smile, as the guy started talking again about the obesity in the united states. He had caught the camera guy dozing off a few times, and his manager was no where to be seen anymore. From all the interviews he had done, that was without any doubt the most boring.

And the worst thing wasn’t that he was stuck there with his tight jeans, it was that he had brough you and Luca to the plato in hopes of finishing soon and giving you a tour around. Your little boy had just turned four and everything with lights and colours was amazing to him; as long as he didn’t have to stay in the same place for more than a few minutes. He got angsty and started crying, and he already felt bad enough when the clock reached the hour in there.

“Would you say you’re a role model for little kids?” the interviewer attacked again. “With your violent characters and –”

He was cut off by a thud, and everyone’s attention went to the clear glass door, including Sebastian’s, his heart quite literally rocketing out of his chest when he saw who was outside the door. Before he could even react, Luca was jumping up and grabbing the handle, the door effectively swinging open so fast that it could have broken if he wasn’t a little kid.

“Daddy!” Luca screeched, his face red and tear-streaked. “Daddy!”

You appeared behind him the next second, looking around wildly until you found your kid. He was way too fast for you to catch, and Sebastian watched as his four-year-old kid rounded all the tech equipment and ran into a woman’s legs. She stumbled and glared at him with such fire that Sebastian felt felt anxious, but Luca didn’t seem fazed, as he rushed over his dad with his arms raised.

It was then when he noticed the what the problem was, sympathy forming in his chest as Luca slammed into his legs. You were apologising softly to the people he had ran over as you jogged towards the pair.

“I – I had an accident!” Luca sobbed with such a despair that Sebastian felt his heart ache.

The whole team were all looking at him with their eyebrows raised, the interviewer going as far as scoffing and trying to look around for someone to fix it. You landed on your knees beside them and, even if Luca had ran from where you were playing with him, the little boy reached a hand for you to take.

It had been a month since the last incident, and Luca felt really proud of it. No more wetting the bed at night when he had to sleep alone and no more staining his favourite trousers when you took to long to go home. He reminded you every day that he was already a big boy, and that soon he would be wearing a cool suit like daddy when he goes to the ‘flashy place’.

Luca sobbed even harder when Sebastian rubbed a comforting hand against his back.

“Um, can someone – take care of this?” the interviewer chuckled, looking directly at you. “We were working here, and you’re kind in the middle of something.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m sorry” you blushed in embarrassment, trying to pry Luca from Sebastian. The boy had an iron grip on his father. “It’s just – he ran out of the room, I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold him.”

“Yeah, well, you should. You can’t let him run off like that, he’s going to become a brat” the interviewer talked, missing how Sebastian was sending him glares with his eyes. “What kind of mother can’t hold his son?”

“Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?” Sebastian scoffed. “Come one, we’ll get you cleaned up, yes?”

His voice was softer when he talked with Luca. He placed his hands under Luca’s armpits and hoisted him into his lap, not caring about the expensive sweater he had chosen for the interview. Wiping the tears away from his son’s face, he pressed his lips against your cheek and assured you that it was fine. He watched Luca’s index and middle finger disappear into his mouth. Usually, he would tell him off, but even he felt anxious with so many people looking at them.

The guy got up too when Sebastian neared the door, wide eyes and gripping his notebook. He gestured to the camera to stop recording for a second and ran towards you.

“Why are you leaving? We aren’t over” he said as Sebastian looked back to him. The interviewer took a few steps back when he noticed the angry scowl on the actor’s face. He looked between you and him, hesitant. “She can – she can take care of… him. You know, let the man of the house work. You can’t… leave.”

He attempted to joke with Sebastian, chuckling, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead of laughing and handing you Luca, he secured his grip on him and gestured you to open the door.

“I can and I will, actually” he answered as he bounced Luca up and down. “What you can do is never talk about my wife like that again, she’s as much as a parent as me, and she doesn’t need to take care of anything so that I can work. If you ever do it again, you can have a chat with my layer next, who will be very happy to hear from you”

Leaving the man open-mouthed, you left the recording room behind Sebastian closing the door behind you. You hadn’t looked up from the ground, only to check periodically on Luca, who was calming down now that he had his daddy with him. Still, there was a small proud smile on your face.

“Daddy?”

“Yes bubba?” Sebastian replied, looking back to check that the door was closed.

“Mad?”

Sebastian smiled softly as he stepped into the hallway, reaching with the hand that wasn’t holding Luca to yours. He gave it a soft squeezed, answering to your unsaid question and Luca’s one at the same time.

“Nah, it was being too boring without you. I’m always up for any of you if you need me”

Luca hid his face on Sebastian’s neck as you made your way to the spare room where you had been playing with Luca. The floor was covered in books, stuffed animals, and a few dolls that he had been playing with, mixing them in some childish fantasy about a castle and a lost prince. You didn’t say anything as you entered the room and let Luca on the floor. Bringing your travel bag, with spare clothes, you cleaned Luca in the small bathroom and changed his clothes between the two of you, putting the stained ones in a plastic bag.

You didn’t say anything as Luca talked the silence away with his ramblings about what his daddy had missed in the hour he had been away. He showed him the drawing he had done and Sebastian told him that he could go and play for a while.

Luca skipped away as you leaned against the sink.

“I’m sorry for letting him run away” you started, quite embarrassed that your four-year-old had crashed Sebastian’s interview. “When I realized what had happened it was too late, and he was already calling out for you.

“No, that’s – I don’t want you to apologize draga mea” Sebastian frowned. “I’m the one who has to apologize, I should have cut the interview sooner”

“You don’t have to cut any interview for us” you smiled at him. “I should have had a better hold on him. Your work is important, Seb, and we can’t go crashing –“

“No, my work isn’t important” he interrupted you, and with a long stride he was in front of you. “You’re important, cause you’re my family. And it’s fine if you interrupt an interview because Luca or you missed me, I can handle a few angry words from the team. But what I can’t handle is you thinking that it’s your duty taking care of everything, alright? We’re a team”

“Quite a team” you chuckled, looking down at the bag with the stained clothes.

“Yeah, but you’re my team, so that’s fine”

You didn’t say anything else and Sebastian leaned in for a kiss, in that small and shitty bathroom. Indeed, you made a good team.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

#imaginesmai #imaginemai #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan fic #the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #avengers x reader #avengers fic #request

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well-shit-im-a-morosexual-now · 4 years

Note

"Recipe for Disaster" sounds like a perfect title for MC and Mammon lmao

Human cooking channel youtuber AU! Hear me out!

Mammon's a model who made a YouTube channel to come across as more relatable and get more fans (earn more money). During his first ever video he makes a stew for lunch out of anything and everything he finds in the fridge while talking about what it's like to be a model etc. (Time is money and he's all about efficiency and that includes multitasking). And the concoction he creates is so bizarre that 90% of the comments are talking about his food rather than his actual modeling career.

Mammon has a nose for sniffing out the newest schemes business ideas if nothing else so his whole channel becomes dedicated to making bizarre food out of whatever ingredients he has at hand and feeding them to his less than willing brothers. His channel grows in popularity (it helps that not only do all his brothers look like super models they're also some of the weirdest people anyone has ever seen. Half his viewers are convinced they're all just characters that these guys are playing. Some of them have theories that all the brothers are based off a sin, kinda like that one spongebob theory. One of his subscribers swears that one of the brother's- Stan maybe? actual name is Satan and everyone else has just been hearing it wrong)

MC has a much smaller channel, at first they use it to talk about tips for photography (HC that MC is a photographer and all those professional pics of the brothers on Devilgram that could only have been taken by someone else was actually taken by MC) and then it pretty much becomes a vlog where they rant about one of their roommates (Solomon) and how he set the kitchen on fire three times during the last 5 days but still happily ate the burnt food (charcoal. It was charcoal at that point). It eventually evolves into a channel of them fixing Solomon's nightmare fuel food and making it something actually edible and this actually makes their channel grow somewhat. (And no it's not just people coming in to catch the occasional glimpse of their other roommate's shoulders)

Eventually Mammon gets a comment saying MC should fix Mammon's food.

He goes on a full rant about how there's nothing to fix and his food is good so what if it's so spicy one of his victims brothers passed out that one time that's just cause they have no taste.

He ends up watching MC's latest video then and ends up binge watching them all through the next few days and getting a stupid crush

Someone links MC to his rant video, and they make a video on how all his recipes seem really unique and how they'd never have thought of that by themself and they don't actually look hazardous to humanity as a whole like Solomon's food is but here's how you fix it so that it's actually edible and won't make you meet God

He sees this and isn't sure if he should be giddy because they praised him or pissed off because they tried to fix his creation. He obviously chooses the latter and rants about them while making something that looks suspiciously radioactive

MC replies with a video complimenting all the ingredients he chose and explaining them while simultaneously calling him an idiot for dipping his bare hand in boiling water to take out potatoes and ending it with a suggestion to get pot holders to drain the water and take the potatoes out after they cool

He replies with a video about how he's not gonna waste money on pot holders when his hand works just fine before he makes chocolate sauce and black licorice mashed potatoes and uses his bare hand to fish out the potatoes just to spite them.

MC replies with a video on how to fix the dish so the flavours won't clash while still keeping the essential ingredients but doesn't mention his hands

He gets a set of bright yellow pot holders and (to be on the safe side) oven mitts with little crows on them ("because your hair looks like a crow's nest") in his P.O. box.He uses them in his next video to make a batch of ketchup and peanut butter cookies

MC fixes another one of Solomon's messes that ended with something with the same consistency of glue stuck to their ceiling while happily snacking on ketchup and peanut butter cookies

This back and forth goes on for a bit, Mammon refuses to change his recipes but they still silently exchange gifts

Obviously their (now shared) viewers notice and start calling out for a collab

MC agrees immediately but Mammon refuses (he's shy fuck he couldn't imagine meeting them face to face) but the draw of money (not their puppy dog eyes in the last video!) makes him agree. They discuss the details over email and agree to do it at his house because he's got the bigger kitchen

They meet at his house and it's awkward at first because he's red af and can't meet their eyes and all his brothers are crowding the doorway to the kitchen and giggling but once the filming starts they fall into an easy routine. They riff off each other and move around the kitchen comfortably as if they've been working together for years. That doesn't mean they don't still argue though, but there's no hostility in it. Mammon gives out the idea of his latest recipe and MC plans out the specifics so that they can execute it. Since it's their first video they make something small and work together easily. Their spicy mayonnaise cupcakes turn out perfectly and are actually good considering none of the brothers are rushing out of the frame.

They are asked for more collabs and they do because they had fun in the first one. The viewers now have to watch two obviously pinning idiots being disasters in a kitchen together. (Just because MC can fix recipes doesn't mean they aren't a mess). They have to watch Mammon go from blushing and stuttering to casually offering MC his finger to lick when he gets icing on it. They have to watch MC going from lowkey flirting to pulling out brightly coloured clips and pinning back Mammon's bangs while his hands are kneading dough. They have to watch the brothers slowly warm up to MC until they're being treated like they've been part of the family from the very beginning (yes this includes viewers catching the first few seconds of an hours long lecture that MC gets from Lucifer). They still have their own channels but they also start up a new channel called 'Recipe for Disaster'. This channel also has vlogs of them randomly buying ingredients for their next cooking video.

Of course there are the rumours and speculation of whether or not they are actually dating, people shipping them, Levi comes up with a ship name, others saying how weird it is to ship real people. MC and Mammon neither confirm it or deny it. During the early days before they had a joint channel Mammon would loudly protest to any such claims while MC just fondly smiled in the background. And sure now he refers to MC as his partner a lot but he could easily mean partner in crime against the food pyramid.

Their viewers finally get their answer when MC one day walks out into one of Mammon's videos in sweatpants and one of his shirts, sleepily kisses him on the cheek and he doesn't even twitch as he says "Mornin' Babe" and continues with his monologue while they grab the milk and walk off frame. They don't even stop to think about whether they should edit it out because they've been dating for one and a half years now. But obviously everyone freaks out and just - Mammon reading the comments with MC looking over his shoulder:

"Heeeeey? Did people just not know we were, ya know, datin'?"

" ...that's weird."

"Wasn't our first video on Recipe for Disaster me tellin' them you were my partner?"

"Yeah weird...the Internet's full of freaks. Remember that time they all thought you were a demon and started mailing holy water?"

"Yeah, what the fuck was that 'bout? Stan got fuckin' pissed!"

I'm tired af & I'll do the rest later! Pls let me know what you think tho❤

#asks #answers #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me!#shall we date? obey me!#swd obey me #swd mammon #om! mammon #ask meme #ask game

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clonewarsarchives · 3 years

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Inside 'Star Wars: The Clone Wars'

By: Gerri Miller (original article link on howstuffworks)

Sources

George Lucas interviewed August 4, 2008

Dave Filoni interviewed September 11, 2008

The sci-fi phenomenon that began more than 30 years ago with a movie about a galaxy long ago and far, far away has expanded exponentially ever since with sequels, prequels, books, games and animated spinoffs. Although the animated "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" movie, released this summer, has to date grossed a less than stellar $34 million, it was an offshoot of creator George Lucas' mission to create a TV series, and it served its purpose as a promotional tool for the weekly "Clone Wars" episodes that premiere on Cartoon Network Oct. 3, 2008.

Focused on the conflict briefly referred to in the original "Star Wars," the galactic civil war takes place in the period between "Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones" and "Episode III: Revenge of the Sith." The Clone Wars pit the Grand Army of the Republic led by the Jedi Knights against the Separatists and their Droid Army, led by Count Dooku, a Jedi turned Sith Lord aligned with the evil Darth Sidious. Many of the characters from the "Star Wars" universe are involved, including Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi and young Anakin Skywalker, before he was tempted to the Dark Side and became Darth Vader.

"I was lamenting the fact that in 'Episode II,' I started the Clone Wars, and in 'Episode III,' I ended the Clone Wars, and I never actually got to do anything on the Clone Wars," says Lucas. "It's like skipping over World War II."

To remedy that omission, he tapped Dave Filoni, an animator (Nickelodeon's "Avatar: the Last Airbender" series) and passionate "Star Wars" fan, to bring "The Clone Wars" to TV.

Ensconced at Big Rock Ranch, near Lucas' Skywalker Ranch headquarters in Marin County, Cali., Filoni and his team of artists and computer animators are making 22 episodes in season one and have nearly two more seasons written.

"We're way ahead. We've been doing this ever since I finished 'Revenge of the Sith,'" says Lucas, who hopes to do at least 100 installments.

He and Filoni collaborate on everything from story to design to execution in translating the "Star Wars" universe for television. It's a daunting creative, technical and logistic task, as we'll explain in the following sections.

Building the Universe

How do you scale down an IMAX-size spectacle for television and still have it make an impact, especially on a small screen budget? That's just one of the problems Dave Filoni has to solve.

"'Star Wars' is very famous for the scale of it, and how convincing it looks. So when you're doing a weekly television series, you have to figure out how to do things on that level," he notes. "Sometimes it forces you to be creative and come up with solutions that are better than if you can shoot everything you want," he continues, preferring to consider budgetary constraints a creative incentive rather than a limitation. "The team here is challenged to come up with these giant battles. We haven't shied away from anything."

While he did some of the initial character design, subsequently, Filoni has spent most of his time supervising other artists and animators, who number around 70 in-house and another 80 or so at facilities in Singapore and Taipei.

"Everything is written here, and the story and design and editing are all done here. The animation and lighting are done overseas, and sometimes some modeling as well," he outlines.

"I meet with George to talk about the episodes and he hands out a lot of the storylines and main ideas for the stories. I'll draw while he's talking and show him the sketch," Filoni continues. "That way we communicate right off the bat about what something might look like."

At any given time, the director notes, episodes are in various stages of completion, "from designing to working on a final cut, or adding sound and color-correction. I have four episodic directors to help me, who each have an episode they're managing."

Rather than use computer animation to duplicate the live-action films' characters or continue in the very stylized vein of the 2004-2005 "Clone Wars" micro-series, "We kind of shot for the middle," says Filoni, who endeavored to blend a 2-D esthetic with 3-D technology.

"The 3-D model makers and riggers who worked on the prequels dealt with the height of realism to create convincing digital characters. I knew that we weren't going to be able to do that for the series. And we wanted it to be different than a live-action feature, to get away from photo-realism. It was a choice to simplify something in the character models, the same way we would do things in a 2-D show."

So how did Filoni stay true to the "Star Wars" legacy in this newest installment? Read on to find out.

Clone Style

Taking some inspiration from the earlier cartoon series, Filoni

approached the characters as a 2-D animator would, "but stylized the face a little more. If you look at Anakin, he has certain edges and lines in his face. I would draw an edge or a line that might be unnaturally straight or curved, and that would play into the lighting of it. I tried to sculpt in 3-D the way I would draw or sculpt an image in 2-D, with shadow and light. I wanted it to look like a painting -- you see a textured, hand-painted style on every character. I have texture artists who literally paint every single character right down to their eyeball, because I wanted that human touch on everything."

Advances in computer animation have allowed Filoni to accomplish much more than he would have been able to in traditional 2-D. "For eight years I worked just with a pencil. I never touched a computer. But working with George, we try to look at computers as an incredibly advanced pencil. The technical side helps the creative, artistic side," he says.

Battles filled with huge numbers of soldiers can be rendered faster than ever before, but they still have to be created, along with every other prop and character in an enormous universe. "'Star Wars' is so complex in that you're building a whole galaxy. We go to many different planets," Filoni reminds. "So every rock, tree, blade of grass, native vehicle -- every asset -- needs design. We had to create a whole bunch of assets for each episode, and the budget goes up for each element you have. Once you build it, you have it, but we can't go to a different planet and have the same chair there," he laughs. "On a schedule where we need those things right away, it's difficult to get it all built."

Since "The Clone Wars" is chronologically sandwiched between "Clone Wars" and "Revenge of the Sith," it has been a mandate for the creators to stay consistent with the mythology. "That's probably one of the trickiest things," admits Filoni. "We always have to keep in mind what the characters are thinking and feeling at the beginning of this and at the end. You have a lot of room to play with when you're in the middle, but you have to remember what people say in the third movie. With characters like Obi-Wan or Anakin or Padme, I have to pay very careful attention that it will hook up. And then there's the expanded universe of "Star Wars" novels and video games. I try to be aware of it all and work it in, because fans really appreciate it."

Filoni hopes to attract existing fans and create new ones, especially among the younger generation, but admits doing the latter may be easier. "One thing we have that's different from any movie that came before is we're an animated series. But there's an instant reaction to the word animation that it's for kids. How you get around that is with the stories you tell. We'll have our snow battles and we'll also have our lighter 'Return of the Jedi' moments. Some episodes lean older, some younger. But in the end it has a broad appeal," he believes.

The recent "Clone Wars" movie (out on DVD Nov. 11 ) served as a stand-alone prequel to introduce the characters at this point in time. In contrast, "The series has its small arcs and shows you the war from across a broad spectrum of episodes. It's not just Anakin Skywalker's story," Filoni underlines. "We can go left or right of that plot and deal with characters we have never seen. There's a lot of material. It's a three-year period in the history of the 'Star Wars' Universe, and there are so many stories to tell. The longer it goes, the more chance we get to tell fascinating stories in that galaxy."

Character Study

"The Clone Wars" shows a different side of some of the film franchise's most iconic characters. "In a series, you can do a whole episode about a character and learn more about what they were like, which makes what happens to them a lot more poignant," explains Filoni. "We know Yoda is powerful, but how does that power develop? How does he use it? We get to go into more detail that you just couldn't do in the live action films, because they're mainly focused on Anakin."

While few of the actors from the live action movies agreed to reprise their roles in voice over for "The Clone Wars," Anthony Daniels, the original C-3PO, is the exception. "One of the special moments for me was hearing Anthony on the telephone, discussing C-3PO with me and his experiences. That really helps us round out the characters," says the director, who enjoyed similar input from Rob Coleman, the animation supervisor who worked on Yoda on the prequels.

Of the new characters not seen in the live action series, there's the alluring but venomous Asajj Ventress, a disciple of Count Dooku. "She is, of course, a villain, and fits into the structure of the Sith," Filoni elaborates. "Darth Sidious -- Senator Palpatine -- is the main bad guy, and his apprentice is Count Dooku. Dooku is training Ventress in the Dark Side. She's getting more powerful. I wanted to make her intelligent, deceptive and also kind of sexual. She's kind of a forbidden fruit -- Jedi are not supposed to get involved with the more lustful aspects of life. She adds another dynamic to the series."

On the other side of the good/evil coin is newcomer Ahsoka Tano, Anakin's teenage padawan, or apprentice. "She's Anakin's student and helps us see him as more of a hero," says Filoni. "Once he gets over his initial reaction, he takes pride in her. He's unpredictable and the Jedi know that, but he has compassion and that is used against him and it later brings him to the Dark Side."

Ahsoka was created, says Lucas, "Because I needed to mature Anakin. The best way to get somebody to become responsible and mature is to have them become a parent or a teacher. You have to think about what you're doing and set an example. You look at your behavior and the way you do things much differently. The idea was to use her to make Anakin become more mature. We've made her a more extreme version of what Anakin was- - a little out there, independent, vital and full of life, but even more so. He gets a little dose of his own medicine."

"She's been a really fun character to develop," adds Filoni, who likes Ahsoka but admits that his character tastes tend to run a bit more obscure -- his favorite is Plo Koon, "a bizarre Jedi Master. It's been fun to develop him and show his personality beyond the fact that he's bizarre looking and carries a lightsaber."

Fan Fare

Just three years ago, Filoni dressed up as Plo Koon to see an opening night showing of "Revenge of the Sith," so it's not surprising that the 34-year-old fan is still pinching himself that he has this job. "It's a very creative atmosphere," he says of Big Rock Ranch, where the lakeside setting is "meant to inspire us artistically and definitely does. A lot of the people I work with grew up with 'Star Wars,' so we have a great time. It's hard, intense work, but George is very engaged in what we're doing. What more could you ask for? I have the guy who created the 'Star Wars' universe excited and interested in what we're doing. We couldn't be happier about that."

Asked why he thinks "Star Wars" remains a fan favorite today, three decades later, Lucas says diversification is the key. "We were always able to deal with different aspects of the story in various forms and I think that keeps it alive. It is a lot of fun and it's a universe that has been created to inspire young people to exercise their imagination and inspire them to be creative, and I think that always works."

"The original 'Star Wars' had broad appeal to everybody, and it holds up so well," adds Filoni. "I think there's a timelessness to it, even though Luke looks like a kid from the '70s with that haircut. Luke is a farmer boy and Han is a cowboy. Jedi Knights are like the samurai of Japan or the knights of Europe. Those archetypes work the globe over. It's a world phenomenon that speaks to everyone. There will always be a character you can relate to."

#interview #crew #George Lucas #Dave Filoni #the first part is useless read the stuff about design and characters under cut #highlights bit for own reference

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dalekofchaos · 4 years

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How Disney/Lucasfilm failed Finn and John Boyega

A rant about my continued frustration on how Lucasfilm/Disney failed Finn and John Boyega

John Boyega’s Finn was setup as the male lead and co-protagonist of the sequel trilogy. That’s not an opinion, that’s not a headcanon, that’s a literally fact. He was set up to be equal with Rey & Kylo’s foil and we all know why that changed.

John Boyega was cast as the male and co-protagonist of the sequel trilogy by JJ Abrams, who had to fight for John Boyega to be cast against the preferred (White) casting choices.

Originally Finn(Sam in the original treatment) was white

Majority from Okiro’s twitter thread exposing Lucasfilm’s hypocrisy when it comes to representation and black history

JJ Abrams told Finn he was the new star of Star Wars

In The Force Awakens. Finn was a Stormtrooper who defected. After witnessing the death of his friend Slip and seeing the innocents being killed, Finn made the decision to save Poe Dameron and leave The First Order. Finn only wanted to leave The FIrst Order and run away. But after meeting Poe and later Rey, Finn began to care for more than himself. Finn was mentored by Han Solo. For once, he had a father figure and a positive role model as opposed to people like Hux and Phasma. He learned to care for Rey and even love her. After Starkiller Base destroyed the Hosnian System, Finn realized running was pointless and knew he had to fight. Then Kylo Ren took Rey. Finn went to The Resistance using his time on Starkiller Base to shut down the shield generator and plant the explosives on the thermal oscillator. Finn’s main focus was rescuing Rey. After Kylo force pushes Rey into a tree, Finn faces Kylo Ren. Finn learns to overcome his fears of The First Order and faces the symbolic evil that was Kylo Ren. Although Finn does not win, he puts up a good fight and was put in a coma for daring to defy Kylo. Then they bait and switched us with Rey. I’ll let you read my rant on that.

Finn was the co-protagonist of The Force Awakens, this is evident of Finn’s actions saving everyone. Finn is the very reason why the Resistance is even alive. Finn breaks his life-long brainwashing, informs Rey and Han about the importance of BB-8 and helps out in getting BB-8 to the resistance and provides vital information that lead to the destruction of STB and gets nearly killed while helping to achieve this. If it were not for Finn saving Poe, BB-8 would’ve been scrapped for parts and Rey never would’ve left Jakku. The map would either be destroyed or be in the hands of The First Order. Starkiller Base would’ve destroyed D’Qar and Ach-To. He is the reason why Poe is still alive. He is the reason why BB-8 isn’t parts and Rey left Jakku. Because of leaving Jakku, this is the sole reason why Han and Chewie were able to find the Falcon. And he is the reason why The Resistance was able to find out about Starkiller Base’s weakness. he Helps out in sabotaging STB so that Poe, the very pilot he saved in the beginning can deliver the finishing blow to Starkiller Base and destroy it completely.

There are some missed opportunity in TFA, believe me I know as I feel JJ squandered the theme of Stormtroopers rising up against their oppressors and that crack about Finn being a janitor was so tone deaf and unnecessary.

Don’t believe me that Finn was meant to be the co-protagonist of the Sequels? Look at the marketing?

Also. Just look at the hopeful optimism and representation FInn brought to black people.

Then the racist boycotting happened. The boycott was groups of bigots who wanted the ST to be boycotted. What was the response from Lucasfilm? Zero defense of John Boyega, but their actions were transparent when they shrunk Finn on the TFA poster for fucking China’s sake, kept him off the TLJ teaser poster, and small on the official poster

I’ll let what Rian Johnson chose to do with Finn speak for itself. John Boyega has every right to hate what Rian did with his character.

By giving into the boycott and doing their best to erase and sideline John Boyega, Lucasfilm proved they would always cater to mob law if the mob was big enough. Do I have proof of this boycott against John Boyega? Yes, I do.

Also, popular Reylo blogger Jenny Nicholson’s racism against John Boyega

Reminder that Jenny Nicholson blocked a whole fuckton of Black people who even gently criticized her about how she went after John Boyega

Did Lucasfilm after The Force Awakens try to support their Black lead in any way? No. In fact, they began to erase him harder than ever to the point Fans started a hashtag #WhereIsFinn because it was getting so bad. But Bryan Young, a Lucasfilm writer, sure loved to hate on Finn

Lucasfilm was so racist, the very concept of a Black man and a white woman getting together sent them into such a frenzy Lucasfilm had to have it removed from any EU material just to make sure they kept it nice and bigot friendly. Also it’s worth noting that Alan Dean Foster was ordered by Lucasfilm/Disney to scrap any hints of Finnrey romance from the TFA novel as he believed that was the direction of the Sequels’ romance and coincidentally they did next to nothing with and we know it was racially motivated. "I expected to see that developed further in Episode VIII [The Last Jedi]," Foster said. "And zero happened with it. And we all know why zero happened with it — and there's no need to go into it in-depth — but that's, sadly, just the way things are."

It wasn’t JJ Abrams, Lawrence Kasdan or Chris Terrio who were against Finnrey. It was Disney and Lucasfilm and RIan Johnson was more than happy to separate Rey and Finn 99% of the movie(he said and did enough things to prove that he didn’t want the two characters even near each other)

Then John spoke about his frustration with how he was treated

People have tried to twist the narrative or put words in Boyega's mouths, but his GQ interview paints the picture rather clearly. He was sidelined due to his race after The Force Awakens when The Last Jedi came around with a "reordered character hierarchy" Lucasfilm's order btw

It resulted in Rey and Kylo Ren being featured prominently in both TLJ and TROS. It also resulted in Reylo being canon. Lucasfilm killed the Sequel trilogy, cause they couldn’t bare the thought of a black man in the leading role and a interracial relationship.

If you look at TFA, you’ll realize that Finn was built up to becoming a Jedi, Kylo’s foil and Rey’s equal. Because TLJ happened, Finn’s role was reduced to a side character and JJ could not make him as prominent as he originally wanted to. EIther studio interference or TLJ screwed everything up so bad that he had to work on it slowly and just hope that Disney + would have something for Finn.

At the start of the trilogy, we all thought people of color would have a prominent role in the new trilogy, there was a potential for the first interracial relationship in Star Wars and there was a potential for the first LGBT relationship in Star Wars. But no, it’s clear that both TLJ and TROS gave us the impression that only white people can be Jedi and only white people can have epic romances and save the galaxy, people of color can only have secondary roles. And the blink and you miss it kiss? Only white women, not two men of color who clearly love each other.

Finn’s best scenes were deleted.

Finn and the villager. it really shows why Finn chose to leave. Finn’s reasoning for leaving the First Order had nothing to do with being against violence, but a moral confliction of not wanting to hurt defenseless people. This villager wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t trying to hurt him. She was just a woman with her baby. This wasn’t war, this was murder, and Finn refused to be a murderer.

TLJ alternate opening. Opens with Finn waking up. Small change, but it would show that Finn is still a prominent character.

BB-8 shows Finn Rey’s last moment with him. BB-8 tries to cheer Finn up, but to no avail until he shows him a recording of Rey from the end of The Force Awakens - the scene she says goodbye to an unconscious Finn and kisses him on the forehead before leaving to find Luke Skywalker.

Poe gives back his sewn up jacket to Finn. In this deleted scene, Poe fills in the gaps and tries to assuage Finn about his concerns, including Finn's mixed feelings about his relationship with the Resistance. Poe then gives back the jacket that was once his and became Finn's in The Force Awakens, showing Finn that he sewed it up. This scene doesn't necessarily push forward any plot development, but should've remained as great a moment between Finn and Poe. The two characters established a wonderful chemistry and bond in The Force Awakens, and with Finn off on Canto Bight for much of The Last Jedi, fans didn't get to see as much of their relationship as expected. It's nice to see that chemistry and bond again. Finn's question about winning is also interesting in highlighting the constant uphill battle of the Resistance. Even destroying the Starkiller Base, Rey defeating Kylo Ren, and blowing up a Dreadnought can still put the Resistance in the position of fleeing.

The elevator scene between Finn and an old Stormtrooper friend. A Stormtrooper voiced by Tom Hardy recognizes Finn and starts talking to him. Finn starts to draw his gun, thinking the Stormtrooper has recognized him as a traitor, but it turns out the Stormtrooper is just surprised to see that FN-2187 has become an officer. The scene may go on for a bit too long, but ultimately it should've stayed in. The scene in the elevator does a great job playing with the audience's emotions, as they're unsure whether the tension will rise to the breaking point of a fight or evolve into a humorous moment. It also shows Finn using restraint by not killing a fellow Stormtrooper, unlike the other two movies.

Phasma’s alternate and BETTER death scene. WHY WAS THIS CUT????? No seriously, WHY WAS THIS FUCKING CUT????? I will never understand why this was deleted. Finn calls her out about her betrayal of lowering the shields and when this information is revealed, the Stormtroopers near her look suspicious and it looks as if they are going to turn on her. Phasma like the ultimate survivalist she is kills them with no hesitation. Finn cuts her hand off and blasts her into the abyss, giving Phasma a more deserving and better send off. Seriously, this is way better than their actual confrontation. What I really like about this scene is its direct connection to The Force Awakens plot point and that it acknowledges Phasma's survivalist attitude which was introduced into her novel. The Phasma novel and comic portrayed her not as a First Order loyalist, but as a ruthless warrior who did whatever it took to survive. She even went so far as hunting down and doing away with those within the First Order who had knowledge of what she did at the Starkiller Base lest the truth get out. Phasma was always about self-preservation, she wasn't about preserving the First Order, but that never comes across in The Force Awakens or The Last Jedi. It only comes across in this deleted scene where Phasma chooses to end her own Stormtroopers to save herself.

Something else that bothers me. Finn’s treatment in the expanded universe. Have you ever noticed that Poe and Kylo got all the big expanded universe material and Finn is always shoved into the background or not there at all? Even worse, every form of media portrays Finn as Poe's bumbling sidekick, which is even more apparent in TROS. They were more interested in having Poe and Finn being the Abbott and Costello of the ST instead of letting Finn going from Stormtrooper to Jedi and lead a Stormtrooper Rebellion.

In the journey to TROS, Finn is not featured in ANY of the novels or graphic novels for the Journey to TROS. When he was, he was used as Poe’s sidekick and not featured anywhere with Rey. Before the release of the movie, he is not featured whatsoever in any shape or form in marketing. We get to see him in two teasers but he says nothing. His new outfit looks awesome. Finn could’ve been used to rise as a Jedi with Rey and essentially be the Skywalkers that Rise and face Kylo and Palpatine together. If not that, Finn could’ve caused a Stormtrooper Rebellion that burns The First Order from the inside out. Instead of any of that, it Finn was given nothing for this movie. He doesn’t even get to face Kylo Ren, their rivalry as foils was completely dropped. That is sad and heartbreaking.

Seriously, there is no novelizations or comics that expand on Finn’s time in The First Order. Sure, there is Before The Awakening. But consider this. Finn was their best Stormtrooper, so good that Hux considered him Captain material.

There is so much potential with Finn in the Expanded Universe. Apply all the posts I’ve linked and more.

The Poe Dameron comics were not about Poe’s life, they were about his personality, skills, character, and the Resistance. So I ask, why can’t/couldn’t the same have been done with Finn pre TFA? A comic series exploring his character while world building the First Order.

There is so much to tell. You could start with Finn vividly remembering his family and how he was abducted and recruited for the FN Corps.

You could even show the ruthlessness of The First Order by showing initiation for the FN Corps is only granted by forcing the children to kill each other in a Hunger Games/Battle Royale to see who the strongest and who deserves to be welcomed to the First Order. This would be in separate groups of the children who are abducted to determine who gets to be put in the FN Corps. We could see Phasma returning to the room, only to see a young Finn covered in blood and dried up tears. Phasma will only say “Welcome to The First Order, FN-2187.”

Wouldn’t it be interesting to see how Finn, a brainwashed soldier broke free of his mental conditioning, learned the truth of the FO yet still tried to be a good soldier. It could flesh out his relationship with the squad he led, as well as Phasma and Hux.

It could’ve also showcased the brotherhood and friendship Finn had with FN-2199 (“Nines”), FN-2000 (“Zeroes”), and FN-2003 (“Slip”).

The biggest thing it could do is finally show Finn’s skills as a soldier, his brains, while giving so much needed world building First Order. We could also finally show what it’s like as a FO stormtrooper from a sympathetic POV.

Through the avenue of a Finn comic series you could also flesh out Hux, Phasma, Nines, Zeroes, Slip, and even characters like Kylo and Snoke. It doesn’t have to cover spoilers, just make the one note more dimensional while giving Finn so overdue respectful content

It could end with everyone asking Finn “what was the moment you decided to leave” which then we would see the TFA deleted scene of Finn in the village

It could end on Finn saying "I was raised to do one thing, I used to think I’ve got nothing to fight for, but now I have something worth fighting for.“

And afterwards. You could show Finn and Jannah working together to liberating the other Stormtroopers. The first person they rescue? Zeroes, FInn’s last surviving Squad Member and together they awaken and liberate their brothers and sisters and all the while Finn rises up and becomes a Jedi!

For those wondering what about Finn in TROS? I’ll let this video do all the talking

youtube

I’d also like to point out. Finnrey WAS going to happen in TROS. Here’s confirmation by Jedipaxis, the main reddit leaker, who was right about everything before the films release, confirmed that Finn’s “i never told you” line was supposed to have some payoff and it was going to end with finn and rey holding hands. could this pic have been of the alternate ending? then reshoots happened and we got the Reylo kiss

I’m convinced that John Boyega was told by the higher ups to say Finn was meant to say he was “Force Sensitive” no one who is about to die would “always want to tell you” they were force sensitive.

Hell, even in the original Episode IX by Colin Trevorrow. Duel Of Fates. Finn was given the shaft again. For some unknown reason, Rey is paired with Poe, a character who barely interacts with Rey at all. Finn was given another sidequest to do. The only brightside for Finn is he participates in retaking Corruscant and a Stormtrooper Rebellion near the end.

Finn, who was once held in prominence as the co-protagonist alongside Rey. Was erased from how prominent he once was and reduced to a sidecharacter due to China and fanbacklash that there was going to be a black lead in Star Wars. Disney caved in to the racist backlash and caved into China’s racist demands.

Finn deserved to be a main character alongside Rey, while Kylo Ren is their villain. He deserved a good character development, a great arc, an interesting backstory. he had the potential to become one of the most epic star wars characters. TLJ and TROS was an insult for him and he deserved better. nobody will EVER change my mind.

Finn should’ve been a Stormtrooper turned Jedi who embraced the light, while Kylo Ren who was the Skywalker who rejected the light and embraced the dark. Rey should’ve been Luke’s daughter, while Finn is the Jedi who builds himself up from being a Stormtrooper from nowhere to Jedi and together Rey and Finn stop Kylo Ren and bring down The First Order and rebuild The Jedi!

Finn should have been a Stormtrooper turned Jedi. It doesn’t matter that you think it tells a better story for him to not be a Jedi. “Finn being a hero who is not a Jedi is important.” Poe and Rose are great examples of ordinary heroes coming from nowhere. Rey was supposed to be a jedi related to Skywalker or Kenobi legacy while Finn was the perfect “nobody from nowhere” that becomes a Jedi. And honestly, Black kids deserved to see themselves in the Black Jedi and black kids deserved to see themselves as one of the three protagonists of the trilogy.

Finn got no last name No theme Was sidelined in the trilogy Had his scenes cut Mocked by Lucasfilm employees Racially harassed by bigots and media outlets Disney used while staying silent and then Disney has the nerve to say they “stand” with John Boyega during the BLM movement and celebrated Finn during black history month despite squandering him....

Finn deserved better, period!

youtube

#Star Wars #Finn #Finnrey #John Boyega #Anti Lucasfilm #Anti Rian Johnson #Anti Sequel Trilogy

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gukyi · 5 years

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for you, anything | ksj

summary: in the popular online multiplayer game, kingdom, you are the top-ranked knight with money, fame, and power. in real life, you’re a graphic design geek who’s got a very unsubtle crush on her gorgeous coworker, kim seokjin. but when you’re suddenly dethroned from the first place spot in your game, you and your kingdom character embark on a journey to reclaim your title, and learn on the way that things are not always as they seem.

{friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, fantasy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol mention, brief and non-graphic descriptions of violence, this is basically two fics in one so you get double the fun and double the word count!! a/n: once again, a massive, massive thank you to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me!! you can find her on twitter as well under @btspresso_!! she’s the genius behind this enemies to lovers and friends to lovers seokjin fic wrapped up into a nice package just in time for the holidays!! you ever seen a fic with e2l and f2l together? that’s right, i didn’t think so. enjoy!!!

check out the post-script drabble here!

♚ HERE ♚

“Oh, shit!”

From twelve feet away comes the sound of these three things in this order: fingers furiously mashing keyboard keys, wheels of an office chair swiveling angrily on the linoleum floor, and a war cry. All of which could either belong to a video game world championships in a big-city stadium or your simple, office of two-floors in a more-than-one-hundred-stories skyscraper based in graphic design and media for small start-up companies.

“I can’t tell if Photoshop crashed again or if you’re playing that weird online multiplayer game again,” Yoongi grumbles from across the way, where he’s gnawing on a Clif bar in one hand as he mindlessly taps his mouse with the other.

“Please,” Jimin says, carelessly waving a hand. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you watching My Hero Academia multiple times this year while we were supposed to be doing work, you absolute piece of toast. But if you must know, I was in fact playing Kingdom.”

“I’m going to tell Namjoon,” Yoongi says with zero emphasis, because everybody knows that Namjoon’s got dirt on everybody in the office anyway (including Yoongi) and that if you try to expose somebody else to him, he’ll expose you back. It’s colleague culture.

“And what’s Namjoon gonna do? He already knows you carry a flash drive of illegally-downloaded animes with you wherever you go,” Jimin retorts casually. He’s not wrong, and you can confirm that Yoongi indeed carts around a USB drive in the shape of a pineapple that has 64GB of anime.

“What do I know?”

Namjoon comes trotting into view from the corridor that leads to the gender-neutral bathrooms with glasses hanging from the collar of his sweater vest, a clipboard with nothing attached to it in his right hand, and a steaming cup of jasmine tea (he hates coffee and declares this publicly at least three times a day) in his left.

“You know that Yoongi—”

“Has been doing his work the whole time you were in the bathroom so you don’t need to worry about him,” Yoongi interrupts quickly.

Namjoon shoots both Jimin and Yoongi a suspicious glare, but moves on. He’s got enough blackmail on the both of them to bury them into the next calendar year, but he’s wise, and he only uses it when absolutely necessary. “Just doing checkups on you guys before Boss Man calls me back into his office and gives me a pile of over one hundred hours of work I’m supposed to do in a forty-hour work week.” It’s been obvious from the moment you were hired that Namjoon does the most work out of anybody in this office, including your boss, and gets very, very little from it.

“You don’t even have any paper attached to your clipboard,” Taehyung points out rather unhelpfully, from where he’s been drawing hearts on the cheeks of the Surprised Pikachu meme he’s taped up on the wall his desk is pushed up against.

Namjoon looks down at his clipboard like it just spit mad fire at him, furrows his brows, and lets out a sigh equivalent to three years worth of pent-up aggression. “Shit.”

Jimin cackles from his computer.

“Whatever, I’m still going to do checkups.” Namjoon takes the pen from behind his ear and writes himself a note, presumably to get paper for his clipboard later. “Jimin, you’re still working on that website layout for the art critic and photographer. Yoongi’s on coding for that search engine that we all know is never taking off but is still paying us. Taehyung’s on marketing because he’s got the most charming voice and Hoseok and Jungkook are on media production for the indie movie company. Y/N and Seokjin, you guys are on clientele and coding. Everybody good before I go get more paper?”

“Yes, Tiny but Large Boss Man,” Jimin says, and it’s enough of a confirmation to send Namjoon scurrying down the corridor again in search of paper as everyone else returns to their prior business.

“Y/N?”

You turn around from the font website you’ve been browsing for about half an hour to find Seokjin standing behind you, an earpiece in his ear and that charming smile on his face. It’s the same smile he gave you on your first day on the job when he was introducing himself, same smile he gives when he meets clients in person, same smile he gives Namjoon whenever the man is about to have a breakdown. It’s a friendly, personable-but-universal kind of smile. The kind models need. The kind that Seokjin has mastered.

“Hey, Seokjin,” you say, only just then coming to realize that Seokjin is much closer to you than his voice originally implied. You’ve rotated 180 degrees in your office chair and he is hardly a foot away from where your feet are. It’s a lot. Seokjin is always a lot. In the best sort of way. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, just wanted to check in and see how the project was going for that one guy that wanted a nice advertisement to put on Angie’s List,” Seokjin says, leaning down to look at what you’ve been doing.

“Oh, well I’ve been browsing this font website for ages and I still can’t find a nice one for the sub-heading. All of these are too flashy or difficult to read,” you say, beginning to scroll as you and Seokjin both look for one that you like.

“Hmm, I see what you mean,” his voice sounds like honey and if you had any less dignity you’d let the chills send shivers down your spine. Luckily, you know how to maintain your composure in an office setting. And you also know that Yoongi and Jungkook would never let you hear the end of it, ever. “Oh, how about that one?”

“This one? Rose Quartz?” You ask, pointing to it.

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “It has a nice flair that matches with the font for the business name, but it’s still easy to read. It would probably look really nice with a crisp shadow behind it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re onto something,” you say, clicking to read the fair use and copyright.

“Couldn’t have done it without all the hard work you’ve put into this,” Seokjin says, standing up and shooting you another one of his famous smiles. “You’re the best partner anybody in this tiny media production and design company could ask for.”

He leaves without bidding you farewell, but it’s enough to have you staring blankly at your computer, contemplating existence itself. Sometimes, a little part of you wonders if Seokjin only treats you like this and none of your other coworkers, but then you immediately remember that Seokjin is naturally charming and that he probably speaks to newborn babies in the same way.

Yoongi wheels over to your desk from where his is, smirk lacing his features as he chews on another, different-colored Clif bar.

“Ever heard of a personal bubble?” You ask snarkily, because you already know why he’s over here, and so does he.

“Why aren’t you asking the same question to Seokjin, hmm?” Yoongi taunts. He’s know about your dumb crush on your coworker (of all people, your coworker! A fellow employee!) for months now. He isn’t being any more helpful whatsoever.

“Go watch your pirated anime,” you grunt out, too overwhelmed with the way Seokjin smiles at you to really give Yoongi your full attention. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Sure, but I’m not Seokjin,” Yoongi says. Then he wheels away and you’re left staring at the Rose Quartz font, whose sample text reads: This was meant to be.

At least Namjoon doesn’t know.

It’s midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re just about to turn off the lamp on your bedside table and get some well deserved weekday-night shut eye when your phone begins to blare, a disgustingly ugly picture of Jungkook’s face appearing on the screen.

You stare at your phone like it’s personally offending you (which, if Jungkook’s face is anything to go by, it definitely is) before you turn off your ringer and close your eyes. Jungkook can wait. Very seldom is he at the top of your list of priorities.

Barely five seconds after you’ve put your head on your pillow, your phone begins to vibrate, this time even angrier than the last. Aggravated and a little concerned—because Jungkook never, ever calls twice—you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Something crazy just happened!”

“I hope so, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me at midnight on a work night,” you grumble into the phone, monotonous voice a stark contrast to Jungkook’s easily excitable one.

“Have you been on Kingdom recently?!” Jungkook asks, and you practically see his eyes bulging out of his head in front of you. One of your youngest coworkers, it’s moments like these that remind you why he bears a striking resemblance to a university student—up late playing video games even on a work night—despite having a couple years in the workforce under his belt. He keeps telling you that he wants to go back to school and get a Masters in something, but he isn’t sure what yet.

“No,” you tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. You typically begin to wind down your night around ten, which means that anything that’s happened on Kingdom in the past two hours you are thoroughly unaware of. “Can’t this wait? Kingdom’s fun and all, but I really do need to sleep.”

“But Y/N,” Jungkook says with a whine, insisting that you stay on the line, “someone beat you! You’re rank two, now.”

If Jungkook’s loud voice and jumpy attitude didn’t wake you before, you’re certainly wide awake now.

“What?” You ask, shocked. “Just now?”

“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago! I don’t know what happened,” Jungkook says sadly, lost. “I was dueling with another knight when the horns and banners appeared on the screen and said there was a new top player. You’ve been dethroned!” He cries out like it’s him who’s lost their place.

You’re fumbling out of bed, making a beeline for your desktop computer across your bedroom. Normally, you’d be ashamed about how high-school you’re behaving around a video game, but you’ve invested an embarrassing amount of time and energy into Kingdom, and you’ll be damned if you think someone else can outdo you.

As you’re logging onto the game, Jungkook continues to wail into the phone. “I don’t even know who this person is, I feel like I’ve never seen them before! I mean, they must be really good since they practically appeared out of nowhere, but still! I’m a decent player so we must have crossed paths. Maybe I just don’t remember…”

Sure enough, the moment you open your screen the horns blare and the banners appear, congratulating a different player on achieving the top rank. You watch helplessly as the celebration fades on your computer before the leaderboard appears in the top left corner, your name a sad second place.

“Who’s JK0901?” You shout into the phone, earning an exasperated sigh from Jungkook on the other end. You scowl at the name that’s knocked you off your pedestal, before narrowing your eyes to look at it more closely. “JK? Is that you, Jungkook? Are you just calling me to make fun of me for beating me? Don’t disrespect your elders, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gasps like he’s been accused of murder. For people that take Kingdom as seriously as you and Jungkook, it may as well be. “No! What the heck, Y/N, you know that my username is KookieMonster97, for God’s sake. Accusing me of being the best, how could you?”

“You should have just taken the compliment,” you frown into the phone, “Now all the girls are gonna know you aren’t, in fact, the number one Kingdom player.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Jungkook mutters. “But it’s not me, I swear. You would have received a very different phone call from me if it was. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have even told you and then ruined your day in the office tomorrow. So it’s not me.”

“I can’t tell if I’d be more or less angry if it was you,” you admit.

“Why, because I’d finally have something to hold over your head other than my unwavering youth?” Jungkook taunts. Definitely still a university student at heart.

“No, because it means I’d have to hear the entire office praise you for a day, and I’d rather permanently pop my eardrums,” you tell him informatively. Jungkook has enough of a head. You actively try to not do anything to enlarge it unless he wholeheartedly deserves it.

“I love our coworker chats, you know,” Jungkook says. “Whoever this person is though, I bet they’re receiving bucketloads of praise for knocking you off the top spot. You’ve had it for like, three months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you tell him through gritted teeth. “I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this game and look how it’s repaying me,” you grumble, staring down the Kingdom home screen.

“JK0901 probably did a ritual sacrifice to beat you,” Jungkook supplies unhelpfully.

You sigh. Whoever they are, they proved that they are just as good at Kingdom as you are, a veteran player with an embarrassing several years of experience under your belt. In fact, they proved that they’re better than you.

♚ THERE ♚

It’s cloudy today, which means that more of the market stalls are out on the main street. You pass by them on your way to the castle, vendors calling out to you with promises of apples, jewelry, and perfumes.

You’ve got money to burn and your responsibilities can wait a couple of minutes, so you indulge one of the stalls and purchase a couple of apples. One should give you a bit of energy now, and the rest can be roasted later for a better meal.

“Miss Y/N, off to the palace?” The vendor asks. From how much you frequent this part of the kingdom, every artisan, farmer, and merchant alike knows your name. That, and the fact that you’ve amassed quite a group of followers from your daily knightly escapades.

“Of course,” you respond happily, paying the merchant with a couple of silver coins and then some, just as a thanks. The extra money helps the farmers raise the quality of their crops and allows them to earn more for their efforts. It also boosts your standing amongst the townsfolk. “His Majesty requested my presence for further instructions on fortification, most likely. But I’m just honored to be recognized.”

“As you should!” The man responds dutifully. “You are our best knight, after all.”

“Please, you flatter me. When the work day is done, go home and feed your children well, alright?” You ask, giving a firm nod to the merchant before you’re on your way. As you stroll down the stone-paved path, other vendors call out to you, hoping that you, too, will indulge in their finest clothes and trinkets on your way to the castle.

Maybe another day.

You take a hearty bite of the apple as you head towards the palace, a satisfying crunch ringing through your ears as the townsfolk nod and bow to you. It’s easy to figure out that you’re the top-ranked knight in the kingdom, with badges of honor pinned to your torso, ink black armor clinging tightly to your body, and red sashes tied around the black ones on your wrist, signifying approval from the highest ranking military official in the kingdom: the king himself.

The guards at the palace gates step aside as you nod to each other, bowing courteously. You repeat this process several more times as you slowly proceed towards the throne room, where the King (and maybe the Queen) are likely to be waiting for you. They had increased their security at every door frame after an attempted assassination several months ago, which you (with the help of other high-ranking knights and castle officials) discovered was a plot orchestrated by Their Majesty’s second-most-trusted advisor.

Finally, you reach the golden arches that signify that you’ve arrived at the most expensive room in the entire palace (save for Her Majesty’s bathroom, which, though you have never been inside, is rumored to have a golden bathtub and sacred water from the River Blancheur, over two thousand miles away. But you cannot confirm nor deny.), threatening red doors slowly creaking open as the King and Queen come into view.

They’re sitting on their thrones, as per usual, but they aren’t the only ones in the room like they normally are. Instead, there’s another knight, as equally decked out as you, standing before them, arms crossed behind their back.

“We hope that you can wear these honors proudly and do your duties with pride,” the King says regally, deep, thick voice echoing throughout the room.

“I will stop at nothing to ensure this kingdom’s greatness,” the knight says back, just as formal. The knight gives a long bow, red sashes around their wrist dangling towards the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were being replaced. But of course, that’s not the case.

“Oh, Y/N,” the Queen says happily, noticing your waiting right in front of the closed doors to the throne room. “Prudent, as always.”

“I aspire to please,” you say with a bow. The King gives you a warm smile, one you’re willing to bet that this other knight isn’t often on the receiving end of.

“Your timing is impeccable,” the King says, ushering for you to come forward. You do so, taking calculated steps along the red carpet, woven nearly two centuries ago and maintained ever since. “We were just congratulating Sir JK on his recent accomplishments in the Black Forest.”

“Of course,” you say with a nod, refusing to turn to your left so you can stare down this Sir JK for yourself. “The military made groundbreaking strides for our kingdom there.”

“You are the first person to know this, other than him, of course, but we’ve decided to appoint him as the Head of the Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Kalar,” the King says proudly.

It takes everything in your willpower not to let your mouth drop open. You blink rapidly, making sure that you aren’t in a daze nor still asleep. Sure enough, you’re wide awake and your ears and eyes seem to be working perfectly. The knight next to you is taking over the highest position a knight can hold in your kingdom, one that even you haven’t been given.

You’ve been replaced.

“What an incredible honor,” you say, body stiff. You can practically feel the ego of the knight next to you radiating off of him. It makes your nerves twitch.

“I think so as well,” the King says proudly. He has, luckily, not picked up on your sudden mood change. “So, I’ve called you here to appoint you as his second-in-command.”

You bow graciously at his words, ensuring that, despite your bitter attitude, you are still thankful for this opportunity. Mostly. You are mostly thankful for this opportunity.

“I’m honored and grateful, Your Majesties,” you say, head facing the carpet. “I would rather die than let down my kingdom.”

“You two are to work together closely,” the Queen advises, words that make your ears bleed. Oh, wonderful, now you have to work hand-in-hand with the person that stole your favor with the royal household right from underneath your feet? You can think of nothing more enjoyable. “Your cooperation alone will ensure the utmost safety and security of this kingdom.”

“We shall do better than our best,” the knight beside you says. His words make your eyes roll back into your head, but you’ve been a bigger brownnoser in your past. You can forgive that, even if the man next to you radiates an energy you’d rather not surround yourself with.

“I’m pleased to hear it. Your training and work together begins now, so do not hesitate to get to know each other.”

You and him take one baited breath each before turning to each other. You both bow out of obligatory respect, which satisfies the King and Queen well enough. And as you come up, you catch a glimpse of each other’s eyes. His are dark, rounded pupils. They’re hiding something.

You’re determined to figure out what it is.

“Call me J,” the knight says the moment you’ve stepped foot outside of the palace. The setting sun shines dimly on the main road, and many of the vendors are beginning to pack up their belongings in order to head home.

“Okay, J,” you say suspiciously. Everything about him unsettles you slightly. Perhaps it’s the fact that behind the armor and the mask and the badges, he’s extremely good-looking. Or maybe it’s the fact that he swiped the top-ranking knight position right from your fingertips. It must be that. “It’s baffling to me that we haven’t met yet. If you’ve been in such high favor with the King and Queen, then I must have seen you somewhere.” You wonder if he can hear the bitterness lacing your features. You sure hope that he can.

“I guess our paths just never crossed,” J says, taking a bite out of a peach he just purchased from a farmer’s daughter, who was watching over the stall as her father haggled with another vendor. You watched as he winked to the girl as she gave him two peaches for the price of one. “I’m more on the ground than you are, am I not? You spend much of your time strategizing in the castle.”

“You don’t know what I do,” you huff out. He finishes the peach and wraps up the pip in a piece of cloth from his pocket before tucking it away. There is no place to dispose of it on the main street anyway.

“Don’t I?” J says with a sly grin, one that makes you want to kick him in the shin and push him into the grass. “Everyone knows what you do, Y/N. You were the King and Queen’s favorite.”

The way he uses the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“But, as it seems, being on the battlefield outweighs directing it from above,” J says. He keeps his eyes off of you and his head held high while your gaze focuses in on him out of pure fury, just another way to hold his newfound superiority over your head. Five minutes next to him and he already seems to know how to push every single one of your buttons.

“So it seems,” you say bitterly.

“You and I really must get along, Y/N,” J says casually as you begin to stray from the hustle of the main street. Neither of you seem to have a particularly clear destination in mind, only a path that must be taken for the sake of the greater good. It’s only the prospect that if you do well enough, you’ll impress the King and Queen and regain your favor with them that’s keeping you from socking J in the face and dashing off, taking his second peach with you. “We’ll be spending lots of time together.”

“Doesn’t that sound like the bee’s knees,” you mutter to yourself. For the greater good.

“Should it not?” J asks innocently. It makes you want to wipe that smirk right off of his face, that knowing tone in his voice. “I certainly don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. Do you happen to have one with me?”

He asks it because he knows that whatever you say will incriminate you. He knows that if you say no, you’re a goddamn liar, and that if you say yes, you’re weak. Weak because you’re admitting that you can’t handle spending time with him even though you have to. Weak because you’re showing him that he has power over you.

“No, of course not,” you say, plastering the fakest smile on your face. Two can play at this game. “In fact, would it be alright if I had that other peach? I’m absolutely starving.” You can be civil. If he can, at least.

“Sure thing,” J says, unwrapping the peach from the woven napkin the farmer’s daughter gave him.

You reach out to take it from him, but in the blink of an eye his hand dangles it over your head, too far out of reach for you to grab without losing all of your dignity in the process.

“What do we say, Y/N?” He asks sweetly, like a parent disciplining their child. God, everything he does absolutely aggravates you.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Perhaps you aren’t on the front lines as often as he is, but you sure know how to fight. Maybe now is a good time to remind him that you received the same training he did.

“Please?” You ask, just as saccharine.

“As you request, Y/N,” J says with a bow, finally handing it over.

If this is what the next several months have in store for you, you wonder if maybe sinking down to a lower ranking might be worth it after all, especially if it means you’ll never have to see him and his bouncy hair and dark eyes again.

You take a bite into the peach. It’s sour.

Just your luck.

♚ HERE ♚

When you walk into work the next day, a hush falls over the room.

It’s not even as if the entire office has been quiet so far this workday, not as if the clock struck nine o’clock and everyone decided to start a competition to see who could shut up for the longest amount of time.

(For the record, if anyone were to win that competition, it would be Yoongi, who usually only speaks either 1) when spoken to or 2) to let someone know when they’re being dumb via insult. The first person to lose would be Namjoon, because his job description is to boss people around. And he’s awfully good at it.)

The elevator door dinged on the twenty-third floor and you could hear Hoseok’s loud gasps and Jungkook’s cackled laugh even through the glass door that separates your office from the rest of the companies that take up residence in this particular city skyscraper. And then, as your loafers tapped on the hard linoleum floor and the glass door creaked open, the entire office fell silent.

Quickly, you wonder if you’ve forgotten someone's birthday or if anybody’s due for a celebration of some sort. But nobody’s come to mind and the lights aren’t off, which means that this isn’t the kind of sudden silence that precedes a surprise party.

This is the kind of sudden silence that makes everybody go, “Oh shit.”

It feels like you’re walking on eggshells as you make your way over to your desk. You’re a couple minutes late due to oversleeping (for reasons that start with J and end with -ungkook) so everybody’s already here, and the office should be as boisterous and rowdy as always. And yet, something’s different.

You’re left entirely in the dark in concern with what the reasoning is, so you just decide that you’d rather not be the one to break the tense quiet that’s befallen your office and settle down, logging into your work desktop and checking today’s assignments on Slack.

Five minutes pass and you can’t help but think that, of the many, many days you’ve spent in this office with these people, this has got to be the most awkward by an overwhelmingly long shot. Not even the time Namjoon showed up with his hair dyed purple and traces of a sharpie drawing with a certain phallic design on his cheek was more awkward than this.

It seems that even Namjoon’s picked up on the vibe of your workspace today, walking in and out without a word. He wheels in a portable whiteboard from one of your meeting rooms and writes down everybody’s assignments on the board in his handwriting, which makes his O’s look like D’s.

Ten minutes in and this is the quietest your office has ever been in the history of mankind, probably. You’re almost convinced that genuinely no one will speak to each other until five o’clock, when Jimin’s end-of-work alarm goes off and you all pack up and go home, and that today’s workday is an exercise in meditation and peace, two things that are seldom available in your usual office environment.

And then, out of nowhere,

“Oh my God, I can’t take it anymore,” Hoseok says loudly, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize he had been holding. It’s highly unlikely that Hoseok spent the past ten minutes holding his breath because he wasn’t allowed to talk under your office’s societal norm of silence, but you honestly can’t put it past him. Speaking is essentially the equivalent of breathing to him. “I’ve been wanting to bother Jimin for not responding to my email from yesterday for the past five minutes. I don’t even know why we’re doing this, it’s clear that Y/N doesn’t care at all about what happened.”

“What don’t I care about?” You blurt out, equally as curious as everyone else also seems to release their baited breaths.

Hoseok and Jimin immediately begin to argue about appropriate email-response time between coworkers and Yoongi rolls a couple of feet over from his own desk to enlighten you.

“Jungkook told everyone that you had been docked from your top rank in Kingdom, and the whole office seems to have taken it very seriously,” Yoongi mutters into your ear, making you scrunch up your nose in exasperation. Is he kidding?

“That’s why everyone was so quiet? Because they didn’t want to bring it up?”

“I guess so, but I was just quiet because it was nice to have the whole office shut up for a few minutes in the morning,” Yoongi says with a shrug before wheeling back to his own desk, where an anime you vaguely recognize as Haikyuu!! is playing on his monitor.

Immediately, you whip around to meet eyes with Jungkook, who looks like he’s been expecting your furious glare all morning. He smiles guiltily and can offer you literally nothing other than a mouthed sorry because you two are in a workplace environment where shouting is, generally, socially unacceptable.

Despite your standing on the game, it’s easy to argue and even easier to prove that your coworkers care much more about Kingdom than you do. The loading screen of the castle in Monet’s art style is Hoseok’s desktop background. Jungkook has a little sword decoration next to his computer, and a couple of his pens are official Kingdom merch that you’re pretty sure he purchased from Hot Topic. Taehyung and Jimin play during their lunch break, the only time in the workday where shouting is socially acceptable, and the both of them came to last year’s Halloween party dressed as knights. Even Namjoon’s in on the game, though he rarely has time to play and usually has no idea what everyone else is referencing when they talk about Kingdom.

Contrastingly, you enjoy the game but very seldom do you actually broadcast that affection in public. You need to have at least some semblance of personal dignity in this absolute free-for-all of a place of employment.

So really, it’s no wonder that all of your coworkers acted like it was the end of the world when you got knocked from first place. To them, that would be like having a winning lottery ticket only to drop it onto train tracks and watch as the public transportation system has a field day with it.

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung says as he comes over and hands you a Tootsie Roll from the stash he keeps in one of his desk drawers for bad days. Apparently, this is a bad day. “Jungkook told us and we didn’t want to put salt in the wound.”

Even if their methodology was weird and slightly unsettling, the sentiment was there. “Thanks guys,” you tell Taehyung with a smile, “but I think you guys took it harder than I did.”

“Of course we did!” Jungkook says with a cry. He is objectively the most torn up out of the lot of you. “We had the top player in Kingdom in our very office, and now what! You were famous, Y/N! Whoever that bozo is who took your place is gonna feel the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company.”

“Who’s feeling the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company?” Seokjin asks as he strolls into the office, even later than you. To be fair, it’s looking like he’s got a box of a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, which is enough for anyone to forgive him, even your hard headed boss. “Is it Jimin? Did he steal your Post-Its again? I saw he had a new pack.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen for barely a second before they narrow in on Jimin, who is already skirting away to find Namjoon so he can use him as a human shield. Jimin has quite the history of taking Jungkook’s office supplies only for a second and then failing to return it.

“No, but I’m gonna deal with him later,” Jungkook says, fishing through his office supplies on the hunt for his Post-it notes, which may or may not be currently in his possession. “We were just talking about how Y/N got knocked from the top spot in Kingdom by some asshat none of us have ever heard of, and now he’s going to feel the wrath. Of us. Specifically me, but also us.”

“What wrath?” Taehyung jokes. “You’re fresh out of college. You’re practically as intimidating as a baby bunny.”

Jungkook growls just for emphasis, and it only proves Taehyung’s point more. He’s always had a baby face.

“Well, I brought doughnuts to cheer everyone up,” Seokjin says, opening the box to reveal a dozen doughnuts of varying kinds that is likely to be finished within the next thirty seconds.

“Oh my God, Kim Seokjin, I love you,” Hoseok says before immediately taking one and a half and bouncing off.

“Save the pink-frosted one for me, will you? It’s my favorite,” Seokjin requests. He’s not even monitoring the box, too busy putting all his stuff away and getting settled at his desk. He’s basically asking to be robbed.

“Aw, I wanted that one,” you joke sadly, already going for the chocolate-frosted one with rainbow sprinkles. The box is nearly three-fourths empty. Even Namjoon’s materialized out of nowhere to take the glazed one to eat while he completes the next fifty-four things on his to-do list.

“Then let’s split it,” Seokjin says without missing a beat. Your heart does the exact opposite.

“Jimin, you wanna split one with me?” Taehyung asks.

“Ew, gross, no way, I want a whole one to myself,” Jimin immediately rejects.

“I’ll go and grab it,” Seokjin says, standing up to nab the doughnut for some evil being (by the name of Jimin) takes it for himself. He plucks it from the box and takes two napkins, too, walking over to your desk as he splits the doughnut in half.

“For you,” he says casually, like it isn’t making your heart beat out of your chest.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say jokingly, taking the doughnut and placing it on the napkin he hands to you.

“Tell me about this Kingdom thing? You got knocked from first place?” Seokjin asks, making conversation as he lingers by your desk. It’s obvious that nobody’s going to be getting any work done.

“Yeah, but it’s really nothing special. Everyone was making a huge deal out of it, which you should be very glad you missed, because the first ten minutes of this workday were absolutely silent and it was awful in every way that something can be awful,” you tell him.

Seokjin laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. “Then I’m glad that I came late,” he says with a chuckle. “I couldn’t imagine a day where Jimin and Taehyung were silent for more than two minutes.”

“I lived through it,” you say, smiling. “Anyway, everyone seems to have gotten over the fact that I’m no longer the top-ranked Kingdom player. I’m kind of down about it myself, just because I worked really hard, but whoever it is that took over, I’m glad for them. I mean, it’s just a game.”

“That it is,” Seokjin says. “How about a toast to your Kingdom-playing skills, and to whoever it is that beat you.”

“Cheers,” you say, holding out your half of the doughnut.

“Cheers,” Seokjin echoes.

The two of you clink doughnuts, and they squish together awkwardly.

“You should bring doughnuts more often,” You muse.

“If it means we don’t have to work and can just talk like this, then I will,” Seokjin says as he takes a bite, already heading back over to his own desk. He waves goodbye with a smile, and only then do you finally indulge.

Sweet. As always.

♚ THERE ♚

When you were moved to the Military Tactics Unit, the King and Queen pulled you out of military training in favor of you spending more time working on strategies for the Kingdom’s armies rather than sparring with fellow Knights. It was a wise move on the part of Their Royal Highnesses, who feared losing you to a rebel group or warring kingdom, and you didn’t mind not having to engage in the physicality of training with those that would be spending more time on the battlefield.

And at the time, you saw it as a much-needed break from hand-to-hand combat training for years on end when you hadn’t set foot on the front lines in months. But now, that decision has decided to come back and bite you where it hurts.

Because as second-in-command to the Head of the Knights, you (and J, both luckily and unluckily) are tasked with the important duty of supervising the military training of the new recruits. This spells doom in various ways, some of which include (and are not limited to):

Having to spend more time with J.

Having to spend more time with J without letting all of the recruits know you both vastly dislike each other.

Having to spend more time with J in a scenario in which there is constant hand-to-hand combat.

Having to spend more time with J without being able to make up an excuse about needing to attend to urgent military business in order to leave.

Having to spend more time with J.

Attempting to remember how to spar.

So, in essence, you’re screwed.

This is the mindset with which you walk into your very first training session in over six months, a few minutes late, of course. Recently you’ve been attempting to calculate the maximum amount of time you can spend either being tardy or leaving early from events that involve J without you facing any repercussions. So far it’s been working out well.

When you walk in the door, before you can greet any of the recruits or even offer J a slightly sarcastic wave, he says, “Look who’s finally shown up,” loud enough for all of the recruits to turn to look as you stroll in tardy.

“I got held up by a vendor on the main road, my apologies,” you lie like a liar. It’s obvious that J does not believe you whatsoever, but it satisfies the recruits, who return to their business as usual.

“Well, you’re just in time for warm-up,” J says, false positivity radiating throughout every single word.

You walk up to where he stands at the front of the room, wearing much less of his official armor than he normally is. Right now, he stands in front of you in a plain tan cotton shirt and training pants, similar to the rest of the recruits. It’s really quite jarring, to see him dressed so differently from what he usually wears—dark armor and scarlet red sashes. It makes him seem… almost softer.

“Thought you might have bailed on me,” J mutters into your ear as the recruits begin to stretch.

“Have a little more faith in me, for God’s sake,” you grumble in return. You may not like him, but you aren’t about to abandon your responsibilities just because of a little bit of distaste.

“Do you wanna take warm-up, or should I?” He offers, motioning to the recruits. They all look so nervous, so desperate to prove themselves on the first day of training. It reminds you of yourself, like you’re looking into a mirror and a time machine all at once.

“You’re the boss,” you say, unabashedly letting the bitterness seep through your tone. “You choose.”

Unsurprisingly, J decides to let you handle the warm-up session, something that is just a precursor to the main event and therefore, not as important. He takes a couple of steps back and follows your instructions as you go through stretches and basic movements in combat, allowing all of the recruits to get a feel for what knighthood is really like in the Kingdom of Kalar. Warm-up was always your least favorite part during training, so boring in comparison to the sparring and hand-to-hand combat that you would engage in soon after. Sure, it was necessary, but when you were a wide-eyed, overeager trainee, you were willing to risk a pulled muscle if it meant you could beat someone up sooner.

With this in mind, you wrap up the session in a fairly timely manner, letting the recruits do their own stretching after everything absolutely necessary has been covered. It also means that you can sit back and let J do most of the heavy lifting, which, while you’re bitter about him getting all of the attention, is better than having to do it yourself based solely upon memory. You remember combat well enough to handle yourself in the battlefield, but the technicalities of training have completely slipped your memory by now.

J and everything else about him may leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you have to admit that he’s a good teacher and an even better morale booster. This must come from his experience out in the field, on the front lines, where raising his troops’ spirits came as a necessary quality to develop when times were tough.

He speaks slowly, explains everything in enough detail to cover all of the bases without losing attention, and frequently opens up the floor for questions. And as per usual, the recruits already begin to cling to him like vines, desperate to soak up every ounce of knowledge that he doles out.

J doesn’t need the ego boost, that’s for certain.

“Now that I’ve gone through everything, I believe that the best way to learn how to spar is just to start doing it, even if you haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing. Despite what you may think about me, experience is the best teacher,” he says with a smile, earning a laugh from the crowd.

You roll your eyes.

“Um, sir?” A timid recruit raises her hand, her body curled in on herself. You take one look at her, and know that she’ll come out of her shell soon enough.

“Yes, a question?” J asks.

“Would you mind giving a demonstration? Just so we can watch. So we, well, don’t injure ourselves or each other while we’re sparring.”

A demonstration? You blink, having awoken from the trance you had placed yourself in one J stepped up to take over the training session. Doesn’t a demonstration mean… well, you and him?

J seems to come to this realization at the same time that you do, and grins wildly, giddy. He knows exactly how much you’ll hate doing this, which is all the more reason to say yes. “Of course, we’d be happy to. Y/N?”

You hold in the sigh you’ve been wanting to let out for about five minutes now, taking a deep exhale as you turn to face J. You’ve been in close proximity to him before, but you are about to get a whole lot closer.

“If you say so,” you say with a shrug, trying to keep this as lighthearted and casual as possible. Though, both of those things are likely to be tossed out the window now that you’re about to spar with your worst enemy.

J grabs a mat from the side of the room to lay down on the floor in front of you, and the two of you step onto it. Instantly, you’re transported back to when you were still in training, bouncing up and down on your feet with your fists raised in front of you, ready to take on the next recruit. You had always been quite good at sparring, back then.

Now is a completely different story.

“Are you ready?” J asks as you face each other in front of a crowd of recruits, all of whom are watching you with hawk-like intensity.

“Guess I can’t say ‘no’, can I?” You joke, though if J offers you a way out of this, you’d gladly take it, shame and dignity be damned.

“Well then, do your worst.”

He’s an open target. You’ve never been given an opportunity to sock him in the face before now, and you’d absolutely love to take it, but this is a sparring session, not a revenge session. That can be saved for a later date. Instead, you bounce on your feet like a nervous, excitable recruit, and aim for his neck.

He easily dodges, but you expected that, and counter his attack with your leg. It goes back and forth like this, as your muscle memory kicks in and you remember exactly what sparring was like back in your training sessions. For a few seconds in the middle of it, you genuinely think you and him are on a pretty level playing field.

And then—

One punch gone wrong and he’s got you lifted up off of the ground and onto his back, having grabbed your wrist at the perfect time to hoist you over his shoulder. You gasp in shock, body not necessarily remembering this part, and then—

He slams the both of you down onto the mat, your back hitting the cushion with a thud as the breathe gets knocked from your lungs. You definitely haven’t done this part in a while.

You know the recruits are all watching you intently, but you refuse to lose like this, even if this is normally the part where the person pinned underneath the other one surrenders. With both of your arms and all of your force, you attempt to shove J off of you by using your elbow to punch him in the chest. If you go down (which you most certainly will), you will go down with a fight.

He sees your move coming from a mile away, and immediately pins both of your arms above your head with a simple swish of his hand. The other one is holding up his body by your head as you both stare at each other, breathing heavily. His leg sits in between both of yours, resting up against your thigh, and his head hovers a very dangerous less-than-three inches away from your own. If a particularly near-sighted person were to stumble upon the both of you, you’d be absolutely screwed.

The both of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a second, the wind knocked out of you. You never quite realized what his face looks like up close. His cheeks are bright red. But it’s a second too long because the recruits have gone silent, refusing to applaud or do anything else to signal that the sparring match is over.

And then, it feels like a million years pass as J slowly removes himself from on top of your body, standing up and dusting his hands off before leaning down and offering his hand to help you up. Too floored and absolutely speechless to reject his extended palm like you normally would, you grab onto his hand and let him hoist you up, unable to speak.

“How was that for a demonstration?” J asks the recruits, who are all blinking like they’ve just witnessed something far too shocking for their liking.

Another trainee, a boisterous young man who walked into today’s session with his energy fully up and his eyes on the prize, raises his hand. “Could you show us again?”

You and J take one look at each other.

No. Way.

♚ HERE ♚

Because your office is both tightly knit and also uncannily resembles a cast of grown adults playing various high school stereotypes in a Hallmark movie, every year you do Office Superlatives. Office superlatives are basically an excuse for everyone to come up with a way to insult each other 1) while getting paid to do so and 2) without facing any repercussions whatsoever.

For three years in a row, your office has designated you as “Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Really Important”, a superlative that came about because on your very first day, you spilled your coffee on the one and only Kim Namjoon, who you then mistook as your boss, and thus ensued the most embarrassing one minute and thirteen seconds of your entire life in front of a bunch of colleagues you would have to see every weekday for the foreseeable future.

Thankfully, you haven’t spilled your coffee on anyone important since then, even if you do regularly knock over your pencil cup and send every pastel-colored highlighter flying across the hardwood floor. It became such a frequent occurrence that, for April Fool’s Day last year, Taehyung and Jimin taped every single thing on your desk to your desk to see how long it would take you to notice.

(It took you over three weeks, but that’s besides the point.)

“I know that the saying is ‘the customer is always right’, but this client I’m working with right now is literally wrong,” Taehyung says with a sigh. He collapses back in his office chair, mindlessly playing with the fur of the stuffed Pomeranian dog he keeps on his desk, staring down the email on his desktop. “Like, I’m not Squarespace or Wix. Either you pay me to design your website entirely, or you do it yourself. I’m not a drag-and-drop of a person, and I don’t get paid to be consulted on every font choice.”

“Didn’t you write on your resume that you can identify every standard Microsoft font without being told the name?” Yoongi asks with a frown from across the office. He’s making the most of his gigantic desktop computer, and has a tab open with One Punch Man right next to a Photoshop logo design he’s working on.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it,” Taehyung says with a frown. “I need someone who knows how to let people down easily.”

“Jimin?” Hoseok pipes up unhelpfully, earning an eraser to the face from Jimin, who is notorious for going on a bunch of first dates and very, very seldom going on a second one. You don’t even think that for the entire time you’ve known him, he’s ever gone a third date with someone. Ever.

“Do not make fun of my lifestyle choices!” Jimin shouts out defensively. “I just like meeting new people.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says like a white girl in a Disney Channel Original Movie, “and then never meeting them again.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Jimin tells him pointedly, already beginning to stand up from his office chair to attempt to further convince him that serial-first-dating isn’t all that bad. “Two weeks ago, I saw this guy that I had gone on a date with last year and he told me that his friend was starting up a small pet barbershop business and needed help with the graphic design for his company. Now I’m designing this guy’s logo and backsplash for his wall.” He says matter-of-factly.

Hoseok frowns. “So, what I’m hearing is that you saw a guy you had gone on a date with last year, and what you got out of it, was more work.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something else, but he flounders. Hoseok cackles to himself, shaking his head because Jimin’s just proved his point further.

“I’ll ask Seokjin,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “He could tell me that I’ve lost my job and that I’m getting evicted from my apartment and I would thank him.”

Amen.

“Hey, where is Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, spinning around in his office chair for the most efficient way to scan the entire office in search of the man. “He was just here watching One Punch Man with Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even notice he had gotten up,” Yoongi says, turning to the empty spot next to him where Seokjin once was.

“I’ll go look for him, I need to grab something from the printer, anyway,” you volunteer, pushing your chair back, standing up, and avoiding the gazes of anybody in the office who happens to have knowledge of your not-so-secret secret crush. This means that you are staring down at the lines of the wooden planks in the floor as you walk over to the back hallway, because every single person in the room currently has at least… well… some insight.

“He’s all yours, Y/N,” Taehyung wolf whistles, making you roll your eyes as you head down the hallway.

Too busy counting the planks that make up the hardwood floor and hoping that you’ll maybe be able to identify Seokjin by the shoes he’s wearing rather than anything else, you don’t look at where you’re going as you make a beeline for the printing room. That is, you make a beeline for the printing room until you crash right into an unsuspecting colleague.

“Oh, shit!” Said colleague cries out.

Oh God.

You look up to find Seokjin standing in front of you, a nearly-empty cup of low-grade office coffee in his hand, and a growing brown stain on his pale blue dress shirt. One look on the floor and there’s a puddle of coffee gathered at your feet, wet splotches on your flats and his loafers.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide and apologetic as he immediately searches for some place to put down his coffee to avoid any more casualties. He looks right at you, making you want to curl in on yourself, before his eyes train down to your torso.

Only then do you realize he’s not shamelessly staring at your chest, but rather at the massive brown stain on the front of your blouse, quickly seeping into the fabric, the scalding temperature of the coffee having gone right over your head the moment you realized who exactly it was that you crashed into.

“Uh…” you stammer, brain crashing as everything that’s just happened in the past thirty seconds catches up to you all at once.

“Oh my God, I’m such a mess,” Seokjin says, fumbling awkwardly as he finally finds a trash can to toss his sad lump of a coffee cup into.

No you’re not, you want to tell him, but the words don’t come out and you’re left standing there, looking sort of like you blame him for everything, when in reality, you just have no idea how to function in front of him.

“Coffee stains,” Seokjin says, hands fishing through his seemingly bottomless pants pockets (he could probably fit an entire Nintendo Switch and its dock in there) until he pulls out this measly little thing that vaguely resembles your orange highlighter. “Here, I have a Tide To-Go pen.”

Before you can tell him that you can just deal with the stain and wash it in the privacy of your own home where you don’t look like a bumbling idiot, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the gender neutral bathroom nearby, locking the door as the light flickers on.

“Here, do you need help?” Seokjin asks, holding out his Tide To-Go pen as he wets a paper towel made of entirely recycled materials and begins fruitlessly dabbing at his shirt.

“I’m alright, really,” you insist, staring into the mirror and trying desperately to avoid the fact that Seokjin’s shirt becomes transparent when it’s wet. Maybe quitting your job and moving to another city doesn’t sound unappealing after all. “I can just get it out with OxiClean at my apartment, Seokjin, seriously.”

“Are you sure? That’s what the Tide To-Go pen is for,” Seokjin says, holding it out towards you again as a final attempt to get you to use it.

“No offense, Seokjin, but I don’t know if the Tide To-Go pen is even going to make a dent in the stain on my shirt,” you chuckle, the only thing you can think of to get him to stop offering the thing to you. The Tide To-Go pen is meant for when you accidentally get a bit of ketchup onto your jeans as you move the french fry from your plate to your mouth. Not when you’ve got a giant coffee stain on the front of your shirt.

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Seokjin says, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt to try and get a better grip on the fabric as he relentlessly scrubs at it. God help you. He may as well take the whole thing off at this point—though you really, really hope that he doesn’t. “I’m such a klutz.”

“No, it’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you tell him. You still know that you passed by 107 wooden planks before you crashed into him, because that is what you do when you don’t want to look anyone in the eye.

“Seriously, though, I had the cup of coffee. I feel really bad, I could pay to get it dry cleaned for you?” He offers, eyes wide and in search of some way to make it up to you.

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m can handle a stain, Seokjin. I’m an adult. I live in my own apartment and everything,” you say firmly, refusing to accept anything else from him. God, if he paid for your dry-cleaning, you’d never be able to live that down. “Maybe I’ll finally stop being voted Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important,” you joke, trying to make light of the fact that you’re standing in the tiny gender-neutral bathroom together, Seokjin’s practically got half of his transparent dress shirt unbuttoned, and you both have massive and very conspicuous brown stains on your tops. All wonderful, wonderful things.

At this point, Seokjin stares down at his shirt and, quite frankly, just gives up, smoothing out his shirt as best as he can and tossing the poor, now-coffee-colored paper towel away.

“I suppose it’s high time we give you a break for always knocking over that pencil cup of yours,” Seokjin jokes back as he opens the door, motioning for you to leave first.

“We should invest in some Velcro for it,” you suggest, making Seokjin chuckle as he shuts the door behind him.

“Uh… what the fuck?”

The two of you are stopped in your tracks by a particularly suspicious Taehyung, who just witnessed the two of you walk out of the same bathroom with both of your clothes fairly askew.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you immediately tell him, eyes wide. Count on him to get the wrong idea.

“Okay,” Taehyung says, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“Taehyung, come on, I spilled coffee on the both of us,” Seokjin attempts, but Taehyung is absolutely not having it.

“That’s what they all say,” he says cryptically, nodding as he heads to the printer room with his eyes still narrowed. He glares at the both of you until he rounds the corner, out of sight, and by then your cheeks have heated up so badly you think you might actually start sweating.

“Now the whole office is going to think we’re dating,” you say, somewhat jokingly but also somewhat seriously. There’s no way Taehyung’s going to be able to keep his mouth shut for any longer than the next five minutes.

Seokjin laughs, looking at you and shrugging. “There are worse things, right?”

Are there?

♚ THERE ♚

“Oh, Y/N!”

You inhale.

Of all of the places in the Kingdom that J has not yet infiltrated and ruined for you, the small cafe on the edge of the kingdom borders has to have been the last one. You discovered it while you were on night watch as a baby knight, a task given to those too dedicated to the job to release but not yet prepared enough to fight on the front lines. It’s a quiet place, open more hours of the day than closed, owned by an old lady with no other family to take care of the business. You’ve already promised her that after she passes, you will immediately begin funding the cafe yourself, too much money on your hands and not enough wonderful places like this to spend it on.

When days are loud and hectic, when the King and Queen and all of their military advisors are stressed and have been snapping at you all day, this is where you come. The old lady keeps her door open especially for you (at least that’s what she tells you), always with a steaming cup of jasmine tea and a wise old story to tell you. Sometimes, you’ll get to tell a story back, and you exchange words of wisdom from a knight at the highest ranking in the kingdom and an elder with many years of experience in the kingdom behind her. She always tells you, “keep your eyes wide and your heart open, because things can only enter it if you’re looking out for them.”

You’ve held those words close to your soul ever since the first time you heard them.

But when your eyes are wide and staring down a certain knight in the kingdom who seems to have stumbled upon your one sacred place, you’re a little bothered, to say the least.

You exhale.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say sourly, the scalding tea burning your tongue as you take a sip.

“I’ve never seen this place before,” J admits helplessly, already bowing to the old lady who runs the place. He introduces himself handsomely, and much like everyone else bewitched by his good looks and unrealistically charismatic personality, she immediately warms up to him.

“I wish it could stay that way,” you mumble to yourself, far too quiet for anyone except you and your tea to hear. “It’s far away,” you say to him as the lady ushers him to the seat next to yours, already promising him tea on the house. You sigh. “Wouldn’t expect you to go hunting for a nice tea place when there are so many wonderful places in the city.”

“I guess it’s nice to branch out,” J says with a shrug. “I have to say that I don’t really go out to cafes all that often. Too busy.”

“You know I understand how that goes,” you tell him honestly. For once, it’s something you can actually relate to. “But I think that it’s important to take a break from our duties and just relax. We don’t have much time to do that, you know.”

The lady brings over tea, and J insists he pay her for it despite her insistence for him not to. She shuffles off into the back before he can even get out some coins.

“Tell me, where can I leave this? I feel terrible not paying,” J asks you. It catches you off guard, really, mostly because he seems to be the kind of person who walks around the center square winking at every vendor in the hopes of receiving free merchandise.

“Oh,” you say, embarrassingly speechless. “Well, I suppose I could take it and give it to her. If we left rather soon then we could simply leave it on the counter for her to find. It’s likely that she won’t come back out for a while, since I have company.”

“Am I your company, Y/N?” J asks, almost teasingly. It makes you want to chuck your cup of jasmine tea into his face.

“Don’t think too much of it,” you advise him, a warning to tell him to knock it off. “We’re just here together.”

“Lucky us,” J says, holding up his cup of tea for a toast. You indulge him (begrudgingly so), letting your glasses clink together as you both finish a much needed warm drink on a chilly afternoon.

Too soon, the respite of the cafe is broken by a knock at the door. You both turn to find a messenger waiting patiently outside the cafe, motioning for J to come and speak to him.

“If you’ll excuse me,” J says, scooting back his chair and heading over, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the door closes, the old lady reappears from the back of the room, collecting your finished cups as you both listen intently to the murmuring outside.

“That young man mentioned that the two of you spend lots of time together,” the muses, cleaning the cups with a wet rag. She’s got a knowing look in her eye, like she’s picked up on something the both of you seem to have overlooked.

“We’re both knights,” you correct. It’s important to you that she knows that you don’t spend time together out of personal preference. It’s merely obligation. “So we see each other quite often.”

“I’ve never seen him around before,” she says pointedly, “but he seems to know quite a lot about you.”

“Oh, not really,” you insist. How could he? You’ve barely known him a month. Still, it’s clear that the lady doesn’t believe you.

“As you say,” she says, skeptical.

You’re about to open your mouth and reject her notions further, but then the door opens up again, and J looks terribly apologetic as he walks inside, joining your side. “We’ve been called in.”

As per usual, the Kingdom appears with impeccable timing to ruin the rest of your afternoon. It has a striking tendency to do that.

“For what?” You ask, exasperated. J doesn’t look much happier.

“Criminal hearings,” J says, and the words make you you toss your head back and sigh.

Criminal hearings and its many, many procedures are quite possibly your least favorite part of being a top-ranked royal knight. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the military and the kingdom’s inner workings, as well as with you being an advisor to the generals and the King and Queen, you are often obligated to attend these, just in case there is a desperate need for the technicalities of military crimes that no one else can provide. It is, admittedly, extremely boring, since you can’t really offer any sort of insight or opinion on the actual criminal and their crime at hand.

“Fine,” you say, suddenly much less energized than you were approximately thirty seconds ago. “I suppose that we’ll have to be on our way.”

“Ma’am,” J says, attracting the attention of the old lady behind the counter. He holds out some coins, palm facing up. “Please accept this from me. I couldn’t leave without paying you for your wonderful tea and service.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the lady says with a shake of her hand. “Any friend of Y/N’s is well-deserving of some tea. You both work very hard. You should take any opportunity that presents itself to relax, and enjoy being young.”

“Please,” J insists, placing the coins in her hand, “a token of my gratitude. We shall return soon, right Y/N?” He gives your shoulder a nudge, making you look up at him. Return? You’d be blessed if J forgot about this place entirely, though you know that he’s bound to come back soon.

Perhaps there are worse things than losing your favorite cafe to him. Perhaps, you can simply learn to enjoy his company, instead.

“Of course, how could I resist?” You say, waving goodbye to the lady at the counter. “We really must be going, but I shall see you soon.”

“Take care of yourselves, the both of you!” She sees you off with a smile and a wink directed right at you for a cause you aren’t too keen on picking up. Old ladies are always so vague.

When you walk outside, you’re surprised to find yourselves alone. “Where’s the messenger guard?” You ask, looking around to see if he’s found a tree to take respite from the sun under.

J laughs, warm and hearty. “I sent him off, told him we would be able to make it ourselves.”

“Oh, alright,” you say with a shrug, already beginning to trudge the familiar path towards the castle.

You take six steps before realizing that J is neither next to you nor following you, still standing on the porch of the cafe as the sun makes his hair glimmer a dark caramel in the light.

“Aren’t you coming?” You turn around to ask, an eyebrow raised as you tap your foot on the cobblestone road.

“Have you ever skipped a criminal hearing before, Y/N?” J asks, and the very notion of bailing makes your eyes go wide.

“Skipped?” You clarify.

“That’s what I said,” J confirms.

“No…” You trail off, feeling more and more like the try hard you once were while training, wide-eyed and eager to prove yourself. Standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on your toes and twiddling your fingers as he steps off of the porch, taking long strides to reach you, makes you feel so nervous. With every step he takes closer to you, your heart begins to beat faster, faster, faster.

“Well,” J says, reaching out his hand to take hold of your own. “Would you like to start?”

When you were stationed on the Kingdom’s borders, you thought you had explored every nook and cranny of Kala. You had wandered through forests, across rivers, and into small edge villages with goods you had never even heard of before. You thought you had seen it all.

Clearly, you were mistaken.

J pulls you off of the cobblestone path and immediately takes you into the woods that surround the cafe, weaving past trees and ferns and grass alike. This time of year, the forest is ripe with greenery, right when summer is coming to an end but the leaves have yet to begin to fade to brown. Even without landmarks or a path to guide him, J seems to know exactly where the two of you are going, like he’s taken this road a million times before. And still, you had never seen him before this.

It’s a wonder that the two of you missed each other for so long.

“Where are we going, J?” You ask, laughing as the exhilaration of skipping your duties in favor of a fun day in the forest begins to flow through your veins. You’ve never done this before.

“Just wait, you’ll see,” he says cryptically, taking you down a large hill. You must be out of the Kingdom borders by now, with how far you’ve been going, and yet, no one had ever thought to place guards in this area.

Five more minutes of travelling and you’re near convinced that J is about to take you to some cave in the floor of the forest and murder you, when he tugs you up a hill to reveal—

It’s a clearing with grass so green you’d almost think it was enchanted. The leaves of the trees whisper to each other, voices flowing with the wind that breezes by each and every one, saying hello to the branches as they rustle. Tall grass and ferns grow on the edge of the forest, disguising the clearing to anyone who wouldn’t bother to keep looking, make their way through the overgrowth and into the oasis.

Never in a million years would you have been able to find this place on your own.

“What do you think?” J asks excitedly as he pulls you into the middle of the clearing, where the leaves of the trees have left an opening for the sun to shine through, a halo in the middle of the forest.

“I—I’m speechless,” you say, eyes wandering from every piece of bark to every blade of grass. You’ve always loved your Kingdom and its beauty, from the extravagant castle to the little shacks on the border, but this is more than that. This isn’t just beauty—it’s magic. “How did you find this place?”

“Strayed from the pack during military training outside,” he says guiltily. Clearly, skipping out on responsibilities has become a habit of J’s.

“Unbelievable,” you say, fingers tracing along the wildflowers growing close to the forest floor. You take a seat in the middle of it all, letting the sun stream through the leaves as the flowers open their petals at your touch. It’s as if every single living thing has been enchanted—like none of this could exist naturally.

“Do you like it?” J asks, taking a seat on the stone next to you. He reaches down to run his fingers through the grass, letting the soft dirt gather on his skin.

“I don’t think I have the words,” you tell him. You thought you had found a hidden respite from the hustle and bustle, but he has found not just a respite. He’s found a home. “Why would you show me this place?”

“What do you mean?” J asks. He finds a small yellow flower, a buttercup, and plucks it from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean, why would you bring me here? Wouldn’t you want to keep this place all for yourself?” You inquire, curious. Certainly, that’s what you would do.

J pauses for a moment, staring down at the buttercup in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, watches as your fingers touch his own, taking the buttercup from him. You twirl it between your fingers, and wonder what all of this means.

“No,” he eventually answers. “Because a place like this deserves to be shared with the people that deserve to see it.”

♚ HERE ♚

[You have 5 unread messages]

Jungkook (5:53PM): Is it still acceptable to talk about Kingdom at company dinners? Jungkook (5:53PM): Is the ban that Yoongi instated last company dinner still going? Do you think he’ll be mad if I talk about how I just got a bunch of gold from solving the mystery of the time capsule?

Yoongi (5:55PM): If I have to sit through another company dinner where everyone is talking about Kingdom and nobody is talking about anime or my dog Holly I will lose it

Taehyung (5:57PM): You’re coming, right? You mentioned having a thing that ended pretty late this evening so you weren’t sure you’d make it

Seokjin (6:03PM): Excited to see you tonight! Promise I won’t spill anything on you tonight haha

Your office’s annual company dinner is the one and only opportunity you, as employees, get per year to talk about whatever you like in front of your colleagues, all while getting a meal paid for by your wonderfully unassuming, hardheaded boss. It is both a celebration of camaraderie and, of course, being employed, and a chance for your personal group to talk about Kingdom for two hours straight without repercussions.

Needless to say, many of you are looking forward to it.

To Jungkook (6:07PM): Yes, but only if we get to talk about how I’m still the best at the game out of everyone To Jungkook (6:07PM): Also, don’t forget to talk to Yoongi about My Hero Academia I know that you secretly love it

To Yoongi (6:08PM): Bring earplugs? Or maybe a manga book to get the conversation going?

To Taehyung (6:08PM): Yeah, I’ll be there To Taehyung (6:08PM): Probably be late though To Taehyung (6:09PM): Save me a seat!

To Seokjin (6:10PM): Not sure if I can promise the same thing! Fingers crossed we make it out tonight unscathed by scalding hot liquids

The company dinner starts at 6:30, which means that it really starts at 7:00 by the time everyone arrives, but even still, you’ll probably be late because you are actually doing last-minute laundry, and not attending a special event like you had told Taehyung. Sue you. Your clothes were dirty.

Standing in the middle of your apartment wearing the slouchiest clothes you own, you wonder if it’s even worth going when you know that you will probably 1) be late and 2) have to endure two hours worth of Kingdom talk and other things that leave you thoroughly embarrassed, like your nonexistent love life.

You’ve never skipped out on a company dinner before, but then again, never have all of your colleagues been so on top of you about your very insignificant, not at all soul-crushing, extremely minimal, super unimportant, tiny little infatuation with a certain coworker, so there’s that to consider.

Not to mention the fact that your entire office genuinely believes that the two of you hooked up in the gender neutral bathroom during the middle of the workday, which is a circumstance so improbable you have no idea how Taehyung managed to convince everybody that that was actually what happened. It’s not as if your coworkers didn’t see the ridiculous brown stains on the front of your and Seokjin’s shirts, or didn’t smell the office coffee stench all over the both of you.

So, for once in your life, you are genuinely considering just staying at home, finishing your laundry, and eating the frozen veggie burritos you bought from Costco two weeks ago. It sounds very tempting.

This thought is immediately combated by the fact that you usually have some of the most fun during the year at this company dinner, and a free meal at a nice, upscale restaurant is something that you would normally never pass up. But then again, Seokjin will be there and he will be dressed very nicely, and the rest of your coworkers will also be there, and they will be relentless.

Jungkook (6:33PM): Tae said you’d be late but please come soon! We can’t talk about Kingdom without the best player present!!!! Jungkook (6:33PM): Oh no Namjoon sees me with my phone

And out of every possible text you could have received that night, that one is the one that convinces you to pull out the same dress you’ve worn to the company dinner (it’s not as if anyone else will remember) every other year, tug it on, and head out. Your Costco veggie burritos will have to wait for another stay-at-home night.

You arrive fashionably late as always, walking into the restaurant and just asking for directions to where the “big group of loud office workers” is, a term easily identifiable by the scrambled hostess with fifteen different tables to seat all at once. She points you to the back room, where you can already hear Hoseok’s laughter from outside in the main dining area.

“You guys are loud,” you say in lieu of a greeting, everyone letting out cries of “Y/N!” and “You made it!” as you look around for the last empty seat.

“Here, saved you a spot right next to me,” Seokjin volunteers helpfully, motioning to the empty velvet chair next to him. In the seat next to that sits Taehyung, who is grinning guiltily, like he didn’t just dupe you into thinking he had saved you a seat next to him and someone else other than the person you were hoping not to embarrass yourself in front of.

“Thinking of me when I’m not even here, how thoughtful,” you say, walking over and sending a glare Taehyung’s way as you take your seat, the glass at the top right corner of your placemat already filled.

“How could we forget about you?” Seokjin reasons, and he says it so casually but it makes your heart flutter all the same.

When Seokjin’s finally started talking to Hoseok and Jimin on his other side, the two of them attempting to explain the inner workings of Kingdom to him (to little avail, as per usual), you round on Taehyung, who is every bit the best wingman and the worst friend in the entire world.

“How could you do this to me?” You hiss at him, trying not to attract the attention of the man sitting on the opposite side of you.

“I said I had saved you a seat!” Taehyung says defensively, clearly enjoying himself way too much.

“This was not what I had in mind,” you tell him pointedly.

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have hidden it from you,” Taehyung says. He motions to Seokjin, who’s laughing at something that Jimin’s just said, eyes crinkled into half moons as the waiter places the cocktail he’s ordered down in front of him. “You know, it’s not so bad having a crush on him, right?”

“He is our coworker and way out of my league, of course it is,” you remind Taehyung.

Taehyung shrugs you off with a wave of his hand. “Give yourself some credit, Y/N. You’re hot. Embrace it.”

“I will not, thank you very much. This conversation makes me want to hurl,” you say as normally as possible, blinking to show your discomfort to Taehyung.

“You need to stop being so afraid of what might actually come out of this,” Taehyung says, a reassuring hand on your arm. “You never know what might happen.”

“What’s definitely going to happen is that I’m going to feel too cold from the vent above my head, and we’re going to switch seats,” you say. You immediately make to stand up, but Taehyung grabs onto your wrist and looks up at you like a child begging for candy in a supermarket.

“Please, Y/N? Just give it a try, and if you hate it by the time the entree comes around, we can switch. Alright?” He asks, a simple compromise to get you to sit back down.

You sigh. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, no matter how terrible your aim is.

“I didn’t order any soup, so hopefully we can last through this dinner without ruining more of our clothes,” Seokjin says, an icebreaker to ease the obvious tension between the two of you. He breaks down your walls so easily, carves out a path in the side of it to waltz right through.

“I don’t know,” you say sarcastically,” you better finish that cocktail soon or we might both be in big trouble.”

Seokjin chuckles, warm and full, and takes another sip of the fruity drink for good measure. “Don’t know how you keep getting crowned Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important when I’m here, a walking coffee volcano.”

“When the superlatives roll around, I’ll petition the court and see if we can crown you instead,” you promise.

“I’m honored. I’ll cherish that title for as long as I live,” Seokjin jokes, bowing to you just for good measure. “This is nice, you know.”

“What is?” You ask, peering down at the large group menu. Everything looks awfully delicious and awfully expensive, so you just go for a classic pasta dish and hope that Taehyung orders something different, so you can try each other’s.

“Sitting next to you,” Seokjin says like it’s obvious, making you blink at your menu like it’s just offended your entire family ancestry. “I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up like this at a company dinner.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” You ask hopefully.

“It’s nice,” Seokjin says. “I feel like we don’t get to talk very much at work.”

“You said you’d bring more doughnuts,” you remind him. Seokjin has held up on his promise, actually, and since the first round of doughnuts, he’s brought on two more occasions to brighten up everybody’s day.

“I think I need a better excuse than doughnuts,” Seokjin says to himself. “I can’t keep going to Dunkin’ right before work, pretty soon all of the workers will know me by name and that is a level that I’m not sure I’d like to reach yet.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you tell him, a hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder as comfort. “Some of the Costco employees recognize me even when I’m wearing my sunglasses inside.”

“You wear your sunglasses inside Costco?” Seokjin asks with a laugh.

“Sometimes I just forget to take them off when I walk from my car into the store!” You say defensively. “It’s really bright in there, sue me.”

“No, no, I think it’s cute,” Seokjin assures you. “Maybe being recognized by the Dunkin’ employees won’t be that bad. At least they probably wouldn’t know who I was if I had my sunglasses on.”

“I’m being attacked, I’m pretty sure,” you say pointedly.

“Only affectionately. You’re still ridiculously endearing.” Seokjin says with a chuckle, smiling at you as Jungkook calls your name to tell him something about Kingdom that he’s forgotten. But even as Seokjin gets tugged into another conversation and you get pulled into your own, your brain can’t help but replay the sound of his voice in your head, over and over.

You’re still ridiculously endearing.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin asks over a mouthful of complimentary bread with olive oil. “Did you ever figure out who knocked Y/N from the top spot in Kingdom?”

“No,” Jungkook cries out, suddenly thirsty for justice. “It makes me so mad that I don’t know who they are, especially since they’re getting all the in-game brand deals and Y/N gets nothing,” he says pointedly as he motions to you, clearly exasperated for a cause that wasn’t even his to begin with.

“Jungkook, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a game,” you remind him, the table too wide to reach over and pat his hand comfortingly. “I still get a lot of things in second place.”

“What’s Jungkook talking about?” Seokjin asks, motioning to where Jungkook seems to be on a rampage as Jimin and Namjoon listen in.

“Oh, Kingdom, like always,” you say fondly. “He’s determined to figure out the name of the person who dethroned me.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. “He’s got his work cut out for him. How many people play Kingdom?”

“Hundreds of thousands, probably,” you say. “Maybe millions.”

“Millions of people, and somehow we ended up with the second-best player in the game right at this table,” Seokjin says with a grin. “We should be honored.”

“It’s just a game,” you remind him, even though the sentiment is awfully sweet. “I think I much prefer the real world, don’t you?”

Seokjin smiles at you as the waiter comes around to offer him another cocktail.

“Another one, sir?”

Seokjin looks down at the cocktail, then at your unstained clothes, and he shakes his head, laughing to himself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.” The waiter nods, taking his empty glass and moving onto another coworker. He looks at you, and his eyes are swimming in stars. “I think that I do, too.”

Dinner ends with Hoseok and Jungkook gobbling down everybody’s leftovers, your boss paying the bill without even glancing at the check, and you laughing alongside Seokjin, who keeps your end of the table entertained with fantastic stories about his past job at a luxury department store and less-than-fantastic dad jokes that he prides himself for coming up with on the spot.

Taehyung had nudged you when the entrees had come around, motioning to the vent above your head, but you hadn’t even noticed the cold.

“Ugh,” Jimin says with a groan as the group of you head outside once everyone is finished, the chilly night air hitting your skin as you open the door. “I hate that we could only schedule this for a Wednesday, because it means we have to come into work again tomorrow.”

“When else are we supposed to schedule it for?” Yoongi asks with a frown. “Did you even look at the When2Meet? Nobody had any free time for the rest of the month.”

“Well, if everyone’s cleared their schedules just for this dinner, anyone want to keep the celebration going at my apartment? I just bought a box of wine from Trader Joe’s,” Jimin asks.

“On a Wednesday?” Yoongi says, nose scrunched up in disapproval.

“Yeah, when else would you drink boxed Trader Joe’s wine?” Jimin responds like it’s obvious.

Everyone begins to either disperse back to their cars or get Jimin’s address so they can get wine drunk on a Wednesday like you’re supposed to, leaving you and Seokjin out of the crowd.

“Are you heading over to Jimin’s?” He asks you as you begin to walk towards your cars, taking a step every five seconds as you watch Jimin tell everybody his exact address, loudly and slowly enough for any burglars and axe-wielding murderers within a three-mile radius to also hear him.

“No, I think I’ll just head home for the night,” you say, checking the time on your phone. It’s nearly ten, already. Where did the time go?

“Ah, then I guess I will, too,” Seokjin says. “Oh, here’s my car.”

“You parked close,” you comment.

“I thought that I’d be late because I arrived at 6:45, but I was the second one here,” Seokjin tells you, making you laugh.

“Sounds like our office, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. We’ll have to do this again sometime just to see how late everyone shows up,” Seokjin says.

“Promise I’ll be early next time,” you say.

“Next time, then?” Seokjin asks, already opening his car door and beginning to step inside. You stand on the sidewalk in front of him, watching as he pulls the door shut and waves to you through the windshield. A next time sounds awfully nice.

“Next time.”

♚ THERE ♚

The King and Queen never do find out about your truancy, though you have to admit, you were never really worried about that in the first place. Not when J was grinning as he told you he had sent the messenger guard off, laughing as he dragged you through the forest, smiling as he twirled a buttercup between his fingers. He had done it before and he’ll do it again, and look where that’s gotten him.

Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him.

Still, despite your high ranks, the two of you can’t avoid your responsibilities forever. Eventually, you will always have to report back to the castle, get a new assignment, and start the cycle all over again.

“At least they’re letting us go together,” J reasons as the two of you nod to the knights standing guard at the border of the kingdom, by the main forest that leads directly to a kingdom with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong. No wars have broken out between your two lands in years, but never has stability been one-hundred percent earned, which means that both kingdoms must be on high alert. You never know when a rebel group will attempt to invade the land.

“Like I’d want to spend any more time with you,” you joke, giving J a nudge in the side as you stroll along the forest edge. In the middle of the day with the sun high above your heads, neither of you are particularly worried about being attacked. It would be foolish for an enemy group to do so, especially at a time when the kingdom’s guards are the most awake.

“Am I really such awful company?” J asks, and he’s smiling but he asks in such a way, it’s almost as if he means it. The two of you have never been on the best of terms, but you’ve found yourself growing out of the competition-fueled rage you once always found yourself in whenever you were near him. No longer is regaining your first place your most important priority. Rather, it’s doing your job and doing it correctly, upholding the duties that the kingdom has entrusted you with, regardless of who’s by your side.

(Though, even if you’d never admit it, J makes quite good company, most of the time.)

“No,” you insist, a hand reaching out to rub comfortingly at his forearm. “You aren’t.”

“You think so?” J says with a laugh, almost bitter. “I must say, you’ve never been that fond of me.”

“You may have charmed your way into the rest of the kingdom’s hearts, but I needed some convincing,” you remind him, reminiscent of how he would tease you constantly, dangle his promotion right above your head like a trophy you’d never be able to reach.

“Did I do a good job, then?” J asks, hands in his pockets. It’s a quiet day, today. Even the birds have begun to murmur.

“You did quite alright,” you say, nudging him. “Though I must say, I absolutely hate how all of the vendor’s daughters fawn all over you and give you free items like fruit, and jewelry. I’m never given that treatment.”

“You just don’t have my naturally charming, handsome, soft looks,” J says, posing in front of you as the two of you walk. The obnoxiousness of it all makes you almost want to chuck the apple you’re about to eat right at his face.

“What do you mean? I can be charming,” you say with a pout. You pretend to flip your hair, just for emphasis.

“You and I are different types of charming,” J says casually. “You’re strong. You speak loudly and clearly and you don’t ever flounder. You always know exactly what you want, and know the best way to get it. You aren’t afraid of anything, and are always willing to take on any challenge that comes your way. It’s… it’s different.”

And even if he thinks you never flounder, never stumble over your words or stutter, for once, you can’t think of anything to say. You’re walking along the forest’s edge with a knight you had convinced yourself that you would never befriend, and he’s just told you all of these wonderful things about yourself you never would have known he’d thought otherwise.

J’s right. It is different. This is different. And you can hardly remember when it started to be like this. Only one day, it was just like this, and it never stopped.

“Do you really think all of those things about me?” You ask, staring down at your boots as you walk along the dirt path, kicking small pebbles as you go. They go flying off into the grass, never to be seen again. But sometimes, you come across one you had kicked a few steps back, and you try again, earnestly hoping to see how far it will go with you by its side.

“I mean, well…” J says, stumbling. “I don’t just think those things about you, you know? They’re facts, aren’t they? Those are things that, well, I suppose, everyone would think about you. Right?”

“You know what I think?” You ask, looking up at him. His dark hair shimmers in the light, like reflects of gold have been sprinkled amongst the ink black. “We are different types of charming. You’re charismatic and friendly, always willing to listen. You accept things graciously and are always grateful for what you receive. You pay people back whatever they’ve given you, even if it’s not the same item, even if it’s just the thought that counts. You always want to do better, and then you do. You work hard for each thing you get, and you never take it for granted.”

J grins down at you. “But you don’t actually think that, do you?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Just facts.”

“Just facts,” he echoes.

When did talking to him become so easy? When did it all start coming to you naturally?

“Did you ever hate me?” He asks you, curious. He knows, he must, that that’s not the case anymore.

“No,” you admit, perhaps more to yourself than to him. “I think that I just hated that you were better than me. But… like you said, it’s different now. Now, I don’t care if you’re better than me. That sort of competition makes me a better soldier. You make me a better soldier.”

“Really?” J wonders, genuine. His eyes are wide in surprise, shocked at such a candid admission coming from you. To be honest, you’re surprised with yourself, as well. “I had no idea.”

“Keep it up, then. You know—”

A taut string let go.

The wind stopping in its tracks.

And an arrow headed right for your heart.

“Oh my God!” You shout quickly, unable to do much except alert the man next to you that the two of you are in imminent danger.

Before you can even blink, close your eyes and wait for the tip to pierce your heart, J is pushing you out of the way, sending you flying to the forest floor and he pulls his bow from his back, sending a steel arrow flying in the direction of the woods. You both wait there, only a second but it’s a second too long, until you hear a thud on the ground, a final breath, and then—

Silence.

The moment you’re both positive the assailant is dead, J turns to you, eyes wide. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” you assure him, telling him (and yourself) over and over as he pulls you up from the ground. Your heart is racing and you can’t quite seem to catch your breath, but you’re alive and so is he, and that’s all that matters. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he immediately says. “As long as you are.”

You look behind him to find an arrow stuck in a tree, but what alarms you more is the sight of blood on the tip. Immediately, you turn back to J, only to find the side of his arm covered in blood, bleeding right through his armor.

“Oh my God, J, you’re hurt,” you cry out, fumbling for something to stop the flow.

“I’m alright, Y/N, really,” he insists, placing a hand on top of your own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb for good measure. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”

“We have to take you back to the kingdom,” you push, already beginning to head back towards the gate.

“I’ve suffered worse injuries, Y/N, seriously,” he tells you, hoping to ease the pit of worry in your stomach. “I’m a top-ranked knight who prefers the battlefield over anything else. I’ve broken bones, gotten stabbed, and nearly died. This? It’s nothing. Really. Please, don’t worry.”

“We still have to get you back to the Kingdom and patch you up,” you insist firmly. “Even if you say you’re alright.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Y/N.” J goes with you obligingly, lets you walk him back to the kingdom gates.

You urge him into the local medical practitioner, sit him down on the bench and watch as the doctor bandages his wound, reminds him not to engage in any strenuous activity while it’s healing. He sits patiently, glaring at you slightly and rolling his eyes any time the doctor speaks, which is fairly frequently. It’s clear only one of you wants to be here right now, and it’s the one of you without a scratch on your body.

When the doctor leaves to tend to another patient, you get up from where you’re seated and sit down next to him on the bench, resting your head on his shoulder.

Working for the Kingdom makes you stronger. Sitting in the cafe makes you think. But being with him, standing by his side, it makes you wonder. It makes your heart race and your mind clear. It makes you feel safe.

“I think you saved my life,” you whisper softly, clutching onto him like a lifeline, like if you let go, one of you will drown.

But that’s not the case. Neither of you will let go. Not without the other. Never without the other.

“Really?” He asks. He already knows the answer.

“No, I know you did,” you tell him. Things are different now, but maybe they’ve always been like this. You just never noticed. “Because in a heartbeat, I would do the same for you.”

♚ HERE ♚

“I have not seen Seokjin all day,” Jimin comments loudly one day, making everyone immediately turn to Seokjins’ desk, which looks practically untouched. His computer is asleep, his chair is pushed in, and his desktop is empty. The only thing that suggests that the man is even here in the first place is the messenger bag resting against the desk drawers, though it doesn’t look like it’s even been opened today.

“Probably too busy avoiding you,” Yoongi deadpans, earning a “zing!” from Hoseok that makes you feel even more like you’re standing in the middle of a high school movie made by people who don’t know what high school is like.

“Is he even in today?”

“He is,” you pipe up. “His bag is here.”

“Of course you would know!” Taehyung teases, and he earns a highlighter to the face for his trouble.

“He’s probably just trying to get his work done in a place that doesn’t consist of screaming and constant insults being hurled across the room,” Jimin says with a sigh, turning back to his work. It’s a fair statement, especially when the environment in your office is most often distracting, loud, and not at all an ideal work environment. It’s an absolute wonder that any of you manage to get your work done while you’re here.

“Y/N, wanna go hunt him down?” Taehyung suggests, sending a wink your way as your eyes widen.

“No, absolutely not, no way. I will not be tricked by you again,” you say, very reminiscent of the last time you went to go look for Seokjin and ended up with a coffee-stained shirt and a group of coworkers who thinks the two of you hooked up that one time.

“If you say so…” Taehyung says, voice trailing off as he turns back to his work.

But for once in your life, Seokjin’s absence is more noticeable than ever. He’s become a fixture in your everyday office life, always stopping by your desk with a second cup of low-grade office coffee for you (with a lid, of course), sending you emails complaining about Jimin and Hoseok when they’re being loud, asking you for help on every one of his difficult font decisions for logo designs, drafting emails to clients with you. It’s a sort of closeness that you never really had before—sure, you worked together and often got paired up for projects, but it’s different now. Like you jumped ship on being just colleagues but instead of drowning, you began to float.

Five more minutes pass and you pretty much resign yourself to getting back to your work, knowing that Seokjin’s probably just grabbed his laptop and found a place where he can work in peace and quiet without Hoseok’s shrill voice interrupting his thoughts. You’ll have to ask him what place he’s discovered.

When there are four minutes left in the workweek and you are finally beginning to close out of the fifteen thousand tabs open on your Google Chrome window, the door busts open.

It doesn’t actually bust open, so much as Seokjin comes flying through it and it slowly goes to rest on the padded door frame like it’s been designed to. His tie is loose around his neck like he’s been tugging on it all afternoon, his laptop is clenched carefully between his arm and his torso, and he’s got a flurry of papers freeballing it in a stack in his hands.

“Oh my God, what tornado did you come from?” Jimin asks as Seokjin rushes over to his desk, cramming everything into his tiny messenger bag that definitely isn’t meant to fit a laptop and a stack of papers that thick.

“Sehun just dumped an entire project on me that’s due on Sunday at noon with no warning, and now I have to pull together fragments of a crumbling magazine label before their final review on Sunday afternoon,” he says, terribly out of breath. He’s scrambling to gather his belongings, crashing into anything within a two-foot radius of him.

“Dude, what the heck? I’m gonna tell Namjoon to kick Sehun’s ass,” Hoseok says with a frown, nose scrunched up. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m alright, I can do it,” Seokjin insists, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leaves before the clock has even struck five.

“Are you sure? You look like you want to jump out of the window,” Hoseok asks again, just for clarification. He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Seokjin become so stressed in such a short period of time before. “At least let one of us help you get settled back into your apartment.”

To your right, Taehyung whispers into Jungkook’s ear, who then does this sort of weird hand movement to Hoseok, who nods understandingly. It looks suspiciously like they just plotted someone’s murder.

“I can’t,” Jungkook says with an obnoxiously fake yawn, suddenly speaking much slower than usual, “I’m deadbeat tired.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung says, coughing in the way people do when they just want to get out of something. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

You whip your head around as everyone besides Yoongi comes up with an absolutely bullshit excuse not to accompany Seokjin to his apartment—Jimin says he has a date right after work and Hoseok says he needs to feed his puppy before he gets too hungry, leaving only you and a Yoongi that hasn’t been listening to the conversation whatsoever to vie for the spot.

“Yoongi?” You ask, somewhat desperate not to be the one to accompany Seokjin to his apartment. You turn to your head to glare at Taehyung, who shamelessly coughs again when he meets your eyes, smiling guiltily.

“Huh?” He asks, turning around.

“Fine, you know what? I can come with,” you say with a sigh, already grabbing your belongings as Taehyung and Jungkook high-five next to you.

“Oh, really? You’re a lifesaver, Y/N, you know that?” Seokjin says, and even when he’s stressed it’s like the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders once you volunteer, and you suppose that there are worse things that can happen than accompanying Seokjin to his apartment for ten minutes.

Seokjin gives you the address of his place so that you can drive to it yourself, the both of you pulling into the parking garage underneath his apartment complex at the same time, waving to each other from adjacent parking spaces.

“I really, really appreciate this, Y/N,” Seokjin says with a smile as he brings you into his apartment complex, nodding a friendly hello to the security officer in the lobby. “I know that it’s a Friday night and everything as well. You’d probably want to be doing something else.”

“Ah, yes, you know me, I frequent all of the clubs and bars in this city,” you say sarcastically as you walk into the elevator. Seokjin hits the button for the seventh floor and laughs. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It was a dick move of Sehun to drop this on you when it’s due in, like, thirty-six hours.”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin says, exasperated as he leans back against the steel walls of the elevator. “I thought I would just get to go home this Friday night, pull up Netflix, and have a one-man movie night, but now I have to spend the next thirty-six hours doing this.”

“Well, you know all of us are just looking out for you, wanted to make sure you didn’t injure yourself from stress before you got back to your apartment,” you say as the elevator door dings. Seokjin leads you down the hallway to his door, sticking his key in and jiggling it until the door pops open.

Admittedly, you have never been in Seokjin’s apartment, but you it was like you had already painted a picture of it in your head from his personality traits alone. You thought it would be fairly minimalistic, clean and neat, not too many flashy colors or kitschy items but things like photographs and magnets to make it feel like an office and more like a home. Pictured it as a sort of very simple, modern home, like the ones that celebrities live in because they can afford to keep their belongings clean all the time, because Seokjin looks exactly like a celebrity, gorgeous and put-together.

Instead, Seokjin’s apartment is almost a hodgepodge of everything he could think to find to decorate, a stack of photobooks on his coffee table, slouchy leather couches wrinkled from wear, various kitchen supplies splayed all over his countertops. It’s the kind of place you can imagine him being in, existing in. You can see him standing behind his kitchen island with all of the ingredients and supplies for this wonderful dish he’s making littered across the counters. You can see him curled up on the couch, leaning against the corner of it to find that perfect spot, watching television.

There’s a difference between owning a place, and living in it. Living in it makes it feels like a home, like it’s real, and not just for show.

“Wow, your place is—”

“It’s really messy right now, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests,” Seokjin says, letting his messenger bag plop down on the ground as he scrambles to make his living space nicer for you.

“No, I was going to say it’s lovely,” you tell him. “It feels exactly like you.”

“Does it?” Seokjin asks genuinely, a soft smile lacing his features. “Well then, thank you.”

You wait around in his apartment awkwardly, not really sure if stepping past the front of his couch is socially acceptable since you’re just “visiting” and he hasn’t officially invited you inside yet. The main objective of accompanying him to his apartment has already been accomplished: you made sure he got home safely and that he can do his work in peace. Finished. But even still, you’re hanging around, wondering when he’s going to kick you out for being a weird, unknown fixture in his home.

“Um, would you like to stay for dinner? I made soup last night and I have way too much for me to eat on my own,” he offers, opening up his fridge and taking out an enormous pot. It clinks as it hits his countertop, the metal sound echoing throughout his apartment.

“No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say, taking this as your cue to remove yourself from the situation before you do anything else to make an absolute fool of yourself.

“I insist, please,” Seokjin says, stopping you in your tracks. “I may have a whole project to finish by Sunday, but we should at least spend this Friday night together, right?”

You look down at your shoes before looking up at him, meeting his eyes from where he stands behind his counter island.

“Then I will,” you say, removing your flats and padding over to where he stands, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter island. “But only if you let me help you with the project, too. It was asshole-y of Sehun to dump it all on you. At least let me handle some of the graphic aspects.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching his hand out over the counter, “you have a deal.”

This deal mainly consists of you eating some of Seokjin’s homemade soup on his couches, your laptops on his coffee table and that ridiculously thick stack of papers spread out amongst you. Seokjin already has a fair bit of information about the project at hand, but he still has absolutely zero progress since he received the assignment four minutes before the end of the workweek.

“So, basically, what we have to do is re-organize the magazine’s overall design and aesthetic before their final review on Sunday, because if they don’t appeal to the publisher, they’re getting tanked,” Seokjin says, paging through the papers in search of a sketch.

“So we’re their last hope,” you summarize.

Seokjin nods. “We’re their last hope.”

“Great,” you say, not at all enthused. “No pressure at all.”

“I know. I’m so relaxed right now,” Seokjin says, clearly not relaxed.

“You know what’s making me relaxed? This soup,” you say, finishing the last of what’s in your bowl. “It’s delicious. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” Seokjin says with a shrug. “I picked it up when I moved to college and didn’t know how to make anything except toast.”

“You’re a very fast learner, then,” you say. “I’d pay you to make all of my meals, honestly.”

“Would you like more? I have a ton, so we can eat it all if you’d like,” he asks, already standing up and reaching his hand out for your bowl.

You hand it over, shaking your head as he makes his way back to his little kitchen, ladling more soup into both of your bowls. “You’re too nice, Seokjin. Seriously. How am I supposed to pay back this kindness?”

Seokjin lets out a warm chuckle as he warms up your next serving in the microwave. “Believe me, Y/N, volunteering to take on this project with me with a due date in less than thirty-six hours is more than enough. You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No,” you tell him. “I want to. You deserve someone who’s willing to help you with big things like this. You shouldn’t have to deal with it all on your own.”

Seokjin grins as he returns, handing you your bowl of soup as you get back to work. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N.”

What was supposed to be a couple of hours spent grinding out a project over a shared pot of soup turns into a night’s worth of work, scribbles on paper and the redoing of the same logo fifteen different times on your computer’s much slower, less-updated version of Photoshop. The application crashes on three different occasions, causing you to nearly slam it into the wall, but you just try to look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. Of which there are none.

Seokjin doesn’t seem to be faring any better than you are. You’ve never seen the man under such pressure before, not in the office and certainly not while you’re out of the office. He’s tugged on a crewneck sweater over his dress shirt and paces around his apartment in bright pink slippers, brainstorming aloud as you bounce ideas off of each other in a panic.

“What if we rebranded them?” Seokjin suggests wildly. When you turn to look at the digital clock underneath his television, it says 11:17PM. You’re surprised he hasn’t collapsed underneath the pile of work he’s got on his plate.

“What do you mean? Do we even have the authorization to rebrand them?” You ask, pulling up a new tab on magazine marketing techniques.

“The project description says requests for anything that will keep them afloat,” Seokjin says. He immediately opens an old photobook, buried underneath your laptops, sketches, and papers, flipping through before he sits down right next to you on his slouchy leather couch. “What if we gave them more of a minimalist kind of style? They’re trying to jump off of this super quirky, very basic Urban Outfitters kind of aesthetic, but I think it makes the magazine too young, you know?” Seokjin suggests. “We could do something more grown-up, attract their market audience.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” You ask, thoroughly interested. Maybe Seokjin’s onto something.

“Who says we can’t?” Seokjin responds, and it’s good enough for you to hop on board.

Sitting in his apartment like this, brainstorming different ideas and collaborating on logo designs, magazine layout, and website design together, you are more productive than you’ve been in a very, very long time. Even as the night stretches on into the early hours of the morning, as you watch the clock turn from 1:00AM to 2:00AM to 3:00AM, the two of you are wide awake, the only things illuminating his apartment being a floor lamp by his television and the blue light of your laptop screens.

“It’s…” Seokjin yawns when it’s nearly four in the morning, pen slipping from his fingers, “so late.”

“I know,” you say back, feeling your eyelids beginning to sink. “I’m surprised we’ve even stayed up this long.”

“Haven’t been up this late since college,” Seokjin says, smiling hazily at past memories. “Always had code to finish for my class the next morning.”

“At least we get to sleep in now,” you joke. Even if you still have to finish putting together a brand new image for this magazine that’s about to go under, tomorrow is still a Saturday.

“Thank God,” Seokjin says, resting his head on the back of the couch cushion, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I feel like we did a lot tonight.”

“We were very productive,” you agree.

He yawns. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” You ask, leaning over to move your computer from your lap to the coffee table, exchanging it for a sketchpad to keep brainstorming.

“I think,” Seokjin begins, and it must be just the sleepy haze his brain has entered rather than anything else that could spur him to express this, that makes him say, “that you and I make a perfect pair.”

You sit up straight at this, looking over at Seokjin as the pencil in between your fingers falls onto the sketchpad before rolling onto the floor. It looks like he’s fallen asleep, exhaustion finally overcoming him as all of the work he’s done catches up to him. In the dead of night, the only sound in the room is his soft breathing, chest rising and falling slowly as his mind begins to wander. You watch him, eyelids heavy, and think that he couldn’t have possibly thought that. No way would he say such a thing to you if he was perfectly cognizant, wide awake. After all, you’re the one with a crush on him, not the other way around.

You lean back, pondering why a man like Seokjin would ever invite you into his home, offer you soup, and shower you with subtle compliments that couldn’t just be friends being friends, and before you know it, your eyes fall shut.

It is nearly one in the afternoon by the time you wake up, the sunlight streaming in from the side of his apartment. It forces you to finally open your eyes, groaning as your blurry vision begins to clear.

That is when you register these four things in this order:

This is Seokjin’s apartment.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, in which you worked on a project with him last night.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and you fell asleep on his couch.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and he thinks that you’d make the perfect pair.

You hear a clink from across the room, and turn to find Seokjin, still wearing the same thing he was wearing last night, standing in his kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice.

“Morning,” Seokjin says. He pauses, then corrects himself. “Afternoon, actually.” He walks over to you, handing you a glass of orange juice as you rub your eyes, waking yourself up.

“How long have you been up?” You ask him, too tired to thank him out loud for the glass of orange juice.

“About an hour,” he says, checking the time. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.”

“I feel awful, I didn’t mean to intrude on your apartment for, like, an entire night,” you say, rubbing your forehead as you try to smooth out your hair, make yourself look less like you fell asleep at four in the morning in your gorgeous crush’s apartment.

“No, it’s alright, really,” Seokjin insists. “It was nice having company, for once. And I think we got a lot done.”

“I still feel bad, I didn’t mean to stay so long,” you say, looking around for your belongings as you try to gather your bearings.

“It’s fine,” Seokjin reassures you, sitting down on the couch next to you as he begins to clean up the absolute mess of the coffee table. “But your phone has been ringing nonstop, so someone must have missed you.”

You fumble around for your phone before finding it having slid in between the couch cushions, pulling it up to see three missed calls from Taehyung and two missed calls from Jungkook, as well as a slew of texts from the both of them.

“Oh, it’s just Taehyung and Jungkook,” you say with a shrug, deciding that now is not the time to bring them into the conversation. A quick scan of the texts gives you a rough summary of what you would have heard if you had answered their calls instead.

Taehyung (9:35AM): Y/N Taehyung (9:35AM): HELLO Taehyung (9:35AM): ARE YOU ALIVE??? Taehyung (9:36AM): YOU NEVER SLEEP THIS LATE ARE YOU OKAY??? Taehyung (10:03AM): I WENT BY YOUR APARTMENT AND YOU DIDN’T ANSWER IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT Taehyung (10:04AM): TEXT ME 1 IF EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND 2 IF EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY Taehyung (10:05AM): LAST TIME I SAW YOU YOU WERE GOING HOME WITH SEOKJIN DID HE MURDER YOU??????? Taehyung (10:18AM): oh Taehyung (10:18AM): oh wait Taehyung (10:19AM): OHHHHHHHHH Taehyung (10:20AM): ;)

Jungkook (12:18PM): Kingdom just started a new event! Get online with me and let’s crush this thing pleaseeeee

“Just want me to play Kingdom with them,” you say, ignoring Taehyung’s text messages and pretending like they don’t exist.

“You really like that game, don’t you?” Seokjin asks.

“Oh, they like it more than I do, really, I just try and keep the obsession to a minimum,” you say casually.

“But they always talk about how good you are,” Seokjin adds. “You’re ranked second, aren’t you? That’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that exciting. I mean, it’s just a game,” you shrug it off.

“But you like it, which means that’s important,” Seokjin says. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of the things you like. They matter to you.”

“You think so?” You ask, smiling at him.

“I know so. Tell me about Kingdom,” he urges, nudging your side. “Please? I’d love to know.”

And for once, you don’t just shrug it off and brand it as a game you play occasionally. You let yourself love that game, for all it’s done for you and your friends (even if you aren’t the best anymore) and your happiness, and you tell Seokjin about it. About how you started playing it when you were bored one day during work and saw a forum on it. How you got the rest of the office hooked on it as well, even if they were much more obnoxious about it than you are. How you go home after a long day of work and log on, letting yourself relax as you weave your way through the rankings and quests, finding solace in the familiarity of it all. You tell him why you love it, and why you probably won’t stop playing it for a long time, no matter what becomes of your ranking.

“It was nice being ranked first, but I actually don’t mind whoever it is that’s taken over,” you tell Seokjin honestly. “Jungkook wants to hunt them down, but I think that, whoever they are, they deserve that spot. You know, I used to hate them because the top-ranked player gets all of the best rewards, but our characters have recently started to spend so much time together that I feel like they’d probably have fallen in love by now.” You chuckle to yourself. If life were a movie, everything would always work out perfectly.

“You do?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “They spend so much time together. Who wouldn’t, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Seokjin says, smiling. “I also have something to tell you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with anime, please. That is where I draw the line.”

“Don’t shame us,” Seokjin says, a hand on his heart like he’s been personally offended. Your eyes widen. “I’m kidding,” he says, laughing as you exhale, relieved. “I actually play Kingdom, too. I just wanted to ask you about it.”

“Seriously? All this time and you just pretended like you had no idea what it was?” you say in disbelief. He’s been hiding this from you for how long? God, the rest of your office is going to have a field day with this information.

“I just wanted you to tell me about it,” Seokjin admits sheepishly.

You shake your head. “You could have talked to me about other stuff, you know.”

“I know, but you never talked about Kingdom and I could always see how much you loved it. It was nice, listening to you tell me about it,” he says.

“I’ve been betrayed,” you say dramatically, opening up your laptop to pull up the game. “What’s your ID? We can add each other.”

This is where Seokjin goes silent. “Actually, I think you might already know who I am. I’m above you in the rankings.”

Your mouth drops open.

“You’re JK0901? Are you kidding me?” You ask, absolutely floored. All this time and you had no idea that Kim Seokjin was a Kingdom expert. “What does JK stand for? I was convinced it was Jungkook and he was just lying to my face, but in reality, it was you who was lying to me!”

Seokjin lets out a chuckle. “Jin Kim. I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out earlier.”

“I can’t believe this,” you say, practically speechless. “How long have you been playing?”

“Not that long,” Seokjin shrugs. “I picked it up because I wanted to impress a girl I liked.”

“Really? All this effort for a girl you like?” You ask, still in disbelief. You suck up the way your heart is sinking at the thought of him liking another person, but then you remember that it wasn’t like you had ever made a move on him anyway. Smiling, you ask, “Will you at least humor me and tell me who it is?”

Then, Seokjin looks you dead in the eye, and says, “You.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he wraps a hand around your torso and pulls you into him, pressing his lips firmly on yours as you gasp into his mouth, body tensing up before you melt into his touch.

It’s a quick kiss, nothing too crazy, but it overwhelms you nonetheless, leaves you gasping for air like you’ve been underwater this whole time and have finally surfaced. When you part, you look up into his eyes only to find that they’ve turned into crescents. He’s grinning down at you like he’s finally gotten it right.

“You did all of that for me?” You ask. “How did you even know?”

Seokjin looks particularly guilty. “You’re not necessarily… that discreet, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, the heat already flaring in your cheeks. “Oh God, you knew?”

“It was fairly easy to figure out,” Seokjin admits. “But the good news is: I felt the same way. So, no harm done.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you say, curling into his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“You’re incredible, Y/N, you know that?” He asks, pulling you away from him just so he can get a better look at you. He’s standing in front of you, looking at you like this is what he’s been waiting for. Like all this time, he’s been waiting for you. “I’d do it all over again if it meant I could end up with you.”

“You would?” You ask, pulling him in for another kiss. There’s plenty more where those came from, but you’re already feeling greedy. Why wouldn’t you? If life was a movie, then wouldn’t this be the happy ending?

“In a heartbeat.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

#seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fluff #jin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin scenario #jin scenario #bts scenario #jin fic #bts fic #bts au #seokjin imagine #jin imagine #bts imagine #bts enemies to lovers #bts friends to lovers #w: for you anything

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danjaley · 4 years

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Story Process Challenge

Tagged by @nocturnalazure in the text, but I hope this counts :)

1. Your writing process - show us a part of your script or explain how you write your scenes. Do you write in screenplay format or novel format? Etc, etc.

Sims-stories I write in digital format almost exclusively and usually in dialogue form. Here’s the first page of “Wild Hunt”. It all started out with Lavinia’s character description and stayed there a very long time. Then it also has a stock of Gothic names, which is copied from another document, hence the German headline. Being me, I sometimes leave some silliness, like the extra-characters. (The thing about the blacksmith was that when these ‘barbarians’ caught an artisan, they sometimes crippled them so they couldn’t run away, but had to work for them. Unfortunately I couldn’t fit such a character into the story. He’s still there from brainstorming days)

This is the market scene from Chevalry, along with a lot of cut scenes. I always quote this as an example why some of the best scenes aren’t even there in my writing. The text is green because I used this to mark it as the story-in-the-story. (The expression ‘shock-blanket’ is a reference to an episode of Sherlock. Some expressions (”slain” “daughter to”) are also borrowed from Shakespeare-plays)

2. Scene building - show us you in the middle of scene building through pictures, gifs, or a video. Explain what is the best thing about scene building and what is the worst!

I rarely take pictures of half-built sets. Wherever possible, I prefer using places built by experienced builders. I have zero sense of architecture. A square small place is the most I can be trusted to do myself. Generally I prefer to work with decor and plants. This travelling cart was a different kind of challenge. I built it on a 10x10 lot and it had to be placed first, before I constructed a new set around it. On the second picture you also see the cleverly camouflaged mailbox :)

3. CC/Pose Making - do you make your own cc/poses for your scene? If so, what is your process like to create? Do you just go off the top of your head? Do you use reference photos?

I think it’s safe to say that I’m a pose-maker. Although I make a lot less poses than I used to. Partly because of time, partly because I don’t like the washed-out Blender under Windows 10 :/ In the heyday of Chevalry, I would quit the game and pose the scene myself, if I wasn’t 100% satisfied. Though the only scene I ever posed start-to finish was the haircutting-kiss. Nowadays, I rather try to work with existing poses. Back when I took requests, I sometimes worked with reference pictures, and they do give the scene some extra depth. The scene modelled after a still from “Anastasia” really taught me how much detail the artists had put into their characters’ expressions, and this translated back to the resulting poses.

4. Getting in the zone - What do you do to get in the zone to work on a scene? Examples include: show us your playlist you use when working on a scene, what’s your go-to scene snack/drink, etc.

I kinda miss living on my own, when I could dedicate a whole day to shooting a battle-scene for Chevalry. But in fact I decided to tell this story then and there because I knew it was the perfect time of my life for doing so. I’m super shy with music, and I have a limited music-library (by modern standards), which I listen to over and over again. Many of these songs have influenced characters, but can’t even bring myself to hunt them up on the internet.

5. Screenshot folder - give us a look into your screenshot folder to show us just how much goes into ONE scene for your story. (Scrapped pictures encouraged!!!)

Here is Of Chevalry, end of Chapter 6. The green ones are reference shots for depth of field blur (I don’t use Reshade). The ones with Sarmanna in a bath-suit are for editing her hands back into the picture, when they clipped through the dress.

MCarric Scenes, most recent: You’ll notice there’s a lot less greenscreen blur nowadays. I usually draw it with the blur-tool now. I still need to find a good occasion for this lovely rainbow I captured...

6. Captions - are you a caption on the picture kind of storyteller or captions in text box type of storyteller? Why? Do you do both?

Although I am more of a visual storyteller, I very much prefer the text in the post. I’m very given to typos and spelling errors and I’d hate having them baked into my pictures. Also I find the text easier to read in the post.

7. Editing!!!!! - explain and show us your process editing a scene through a video, gif, or picture. A Before and after will suffice if you aren’t in the middle of editing a scene as you answer this.

I like editing my pictures in a way that makes them look like they had been like this in game all along. Here’s Sarmanna in a bath-suit again. In cases like this one, you can even bring out the feeling a bit more. I could have dug her left arm out of the skirt. But as she’s feeling very shy and vulnerable in the scene, I made it look like her arm was close to her body. I also have a photoshop action which gives this slightly desaturated old-painting look to the images.

8. Throwback- show us an ANCIENT story scene you did in the past and explain how you would do the scene differently today!

In 2014 I tried to tell the backstory of Anja Tilney, a Maplethorpe Island inhabitant. It was the first time I tried messing around with poses, and I remember I included this shot because Simmagmeg had just released these poses which meant much to her. This scene I still think turned out cute, but on the whole I wasn’t feeling the story any more, after a while. It was rather simply constructed, but still I felt I couldn’t do it justice with my skills back then.

I just reread it for the first time since (here...), and it isn’t quite as bad as I remembered, but back then I scrapped the project and decided to stay well away from Sims storytelling in the future...

tagging @arielovessims, @thethingshesaidthesims3, @windermeresimblr, @unsimspirational

#tagged

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

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All Norman Bates

PART FORTY-TWO OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of estranged parents, therapy, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Jess and Ella experience a bump in the road on the way to California.

A/N: Just so everyone is aware, there are only two chapters left after this, including the epilogue :)

Sighing, Jess glanced over at Ella, who sat in the passenger seat with a crinkled brow and the cap of a red pen between her teeth. They were halfway to California, and Jess didn’t think he’d seen her without that same pensive look on her face for the entirety of the trip thus far. But, he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed at her insistence on working over the spring break. Her cheeks were lively with rosy color, and her eyes looked clearer.

They weren’t all good days. Sometimes, she would come home from work or school and fall asleep on the couch almost immediately, lethargic and unable to articulate any of the thoughts which were jumbled in a confusing, depressed mess within her head. Then, when she awoke, she would often find herself needing to cry. Whether she knew what her feelings were about or not, she would let herself cry, like her new therapist was urging her to. Jess would rub circles on her back and make green tea and listen. And eventually, she would feel better. They were working it out together, just like he promised. Most of the time, there was a gnawing guilt sitting in her stomach. He shouldn’t have to take care of her, she would think. She was holding him back. She was weighing him down. Each time she brought it up though, he would patiently remind her of how much she had helped him, how this thing of theirs was a two-way street, and that he didn’t mind.

She would smile, in spite of herself. Slowly, it was getting easier, and she was regaining her passion for things. She was drawing again, even painting, finally making use of the easel Jess had gotten her for Christmas. Jess often made jokes about how big of a role their therapists played in their lives, but they only made Ella laugh, instead of making her angry. It was true, but she was becoming less ashamed of it by the day. It would probably always feel a bit like her and Jess against the world, but their world could be bigger. Help didn’t need to be an evil. She didn’t need to make survival her ultimate goal. Instead, she was working on happiness. And, of course, the antidepressants were playing a part no one could understate.

“You’re gonna make yourself carsick,” Jess warned begrudgingly, turning down the Killers song which played on the radio.

Ella rolled her eyes but didn’t look up from the essay. “You’re the one who gets carsick, Jess. I’ll be fine.”

Again, he gave a slight sigh. Sometimes, the silence could get to even him. When she was working, it was like she was on a different planet. “Whatever, Daria. Just call me the invisible man.”

“You are so clingy,” she teased off-handedly, chuckling.

He scoffed, though a blush rose hotly up his neck and to the tips of his ears. “Am not.”

“Sure, tough guy,” she quipped, then finally looked up from the midterm papers she was grading.

The current one was a pretty decent account of how Van Gogh made the most of his madness through his art. She was pretty engrossed in it, and it was almost free of her annotations. Her harsh grading style had become almost notorious with the T.A. circle at the University. But, sometimes, people really did turn in perfect work. Besides, she knew it was better to bite the bullet and give the advice. It was what the students were there for, after all. And subtlety had never been her strong suit.

For what it was worth, she was working on the drive in an attempt to have less to do once they actually reached California. The plans were to spend the week on the beach, reading and drawing, and popping into Jess’s father’s house every now and again. The visit was partially for vacation, partially an obligatory gesture. Jess hadn’t visited in so long, the guilt was starting to get to him. His father was a douchebag, but he had still welcomed Jess into his home when he didn’t have to. The gesture certainly counted for something.

Watching the darkness of the road ahead, Jess tried to keep his anxiety at bay. He had to remind himself that Ella was with him, they were older, and even more stable than they had been the last time they visited. He didn’t need to feel nervous about the trip, but the memories of his lonely months in Venice were itching at the back of his mind. Sometimes, he would give in and scratch, even if it only made things worse. He bit at his bottom lip, eyes occasionally wandering to the sky. There were stars, lots out in the heartland of America with no light pollution. And there were hardly any other cars, as the night went from evening to late. There were no concrete plans about where to stay the night, just the next decent motel they happened upon. Each time Ella suggested stopping, Jess insisted he was fine to keep driving. He wanted to get as much done as he could manage. Truthfully, he was not looking forward to the silence of the nighttime, when Ella went to sleep and he had to be alone with thoughts of his father turning over and over in his head.

“Do you hear that?” she asked after a moment, brows furrowing. With her attention away from her work, she had begun to pick up on a faint clicking sound.

“Hear what?” Jess said, broken from his anxious reverie.

“Listen,” she said, then gave a hesitant pause. Then added: “It’s getting louder.”

Jess did as she told him, turning the quiet music on the radio all the way down. Sure enough, beneath the rushing of the tires and the occasional screech they had come to tune out after years of riding in the death trap, there was a clicking. And it was getting louder, faster and faster. Then, Jess began to feel a drag in his speed and a resistance in his brakes.

. . .

Too tired even to work, Ella laid with her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. They were somewhere in Kansas, with shitty cell reception and even shittier motels. No auto repair shop would be open until the morning, the man with the tow truck had said, but he suspected it was the engine, based on the sound they had described to him. Luckily, the man had been kind enough to drive them to the nearest 24-hour lodging. The Ambassador would sit solitary in the tow yard until the morning, when they came to bring it to whatever repair shop had the lowest prices. In all honesty, Ella was just glad they hadn’t been forced to spend the night on the side of the highway. It had taken them almost a half an hour before finally getting Ella’s cell in the right position to handle a call to information, to get the name of a towing company. The whole ordeal had been nerve-wracking, but she was feeling marginally better behind the safety of their closed motel room door. At the front desk there sat a disinterested woman with thick glasses which magnified her light eyes and a magazine open on the desk in front of her. She had told them a lost key was a $50 fee before sending them on their way with little more than a glance.

It wasn’t a shock. Jess’s car had been living on borrowed time for quite a while, anyway. Rusty and creaky and dying. Ella almost felt vindicated. Finally, her predictions had come true. She had expressed doubt when Jess had said he would be the one driving, to give her time to work and relax. He’d been encouraging her to relax more often recently, and she appreciated it. But riding passenger in the Ambassador was anything but relaxing. Ella still couldn’t believe how flabbergasted Jess had looked when he had to pull over on the side of the road, unable to drive safely with the way the gas pedal wasn’t cooperating. Ella felt a bit of foolish nostalgia at the thought of the vehicle. Another site of their youth bites the dust.

“I don’t know,” Jess sighed into his phone, running a hand down his tired face.

He’d been talking to Sasha for the last twenty minutes. It was past ten, but not the middle of the night. Jimmy, however, wasn’t available to talk apparently. Sasha had been suggesting alternative plans for them to get to California, though both Jess and Ella knew there was no way they were getting down there anytime soon if the car was as broken as they suspected. Even if it wasn’t completely dead (which it was), they’d have to wait for parts to come in. Who knew how long that would take for such an old make and model.

Eventually, Jess pushed Sasha off the phone with some muttered excuses and forced goodbyes. His head was swimming with fatigue, and he didn’t think he could deal with another second of his stepmother. Not considering how chatty and cheery she was. Putting his cell phone on the rickety nightstand next to him, he flopped down onto his back. The comforter had a faded floral pattern, but was surprisingly soft. He blew out a long breath and shut his eyes for a moment.

“So she took it well?” Ella asked flatly. She had heard Sasha’s good-natured badgering as she lay silently next to Jess.

“Oh yeah,” Jess replied. “Very understanding.”

Ella snorted a laugh and sat up again, looking down at him. She raked her fingers through his hair affectionately. He sighed again, eyes still closed. Biting at the inside of her cheek, Ella fought back a small smirk at the sight of him in the low glow of the singular bedside lamp. The night certainly hadn’t gone according to plan, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel too upset about not making it to California. She still wasn’t the biggest fan of Jimmy or the Pacific Ocean. She kept stroking his hair, eyeing his long lashes and exhausted pallor. She could tell how sleepy he was, even if he wouldn’t exactly admit the effects of driving so long.

She looked around the small room, big enough only for a queen bed, a small TV, some nightstands, and a bathroom off to the side. The rosebud wallpaper was yellowed with age and there were a few precarious stains on the beige carpet. But the air had a homey smell of dust and she decided it wasn’t the worst place they could have ended up. Fortunately, they didn’t need to find dinner, having already grabbed some takeout about an hour before the end of the Ambassador’s long, strange life.

“At least we won’t have to reconnect with that weird guy who works on the boardwalk,” Ella said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“The guy who sells the hemp hats?” Jess asked, then cracked his eyes open again. “You think he still works there?”

“I bet he’ll still be standing out there long after you and I are dead,” Ella replied.

Jess laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Maybe I should grade more,” she said distractedly, speaking mostly to herself as her idle hands made uneasiness creep up in her stomach.

Rolling his eyes, Jess grabbed her gently around the waist and pulled her down onto the bed, guiding her head to his chest. “This is an addiction, Stevens. I’m cutting you off.”

“Yeah, well, the first step to healing is acceptance,” she quipped, placing a kiss on his t-shirt and settling in against him. For once, she decided to oblige him and sleep instead of stay up into the early hours of the morning with her red pen. Her therapist had also suggested doing work in moderation.

Jess chuckled breathily. “It’s true.” Then, after a moment: “I think I’m honestly more upset about the car than not getting to go visit daddy dearest.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“Oh, am I that transparent?” he deadpanned.

“Like a glass house, Mariano,” she teased. “I guess it is the end of an era.”

He nodded. “Yeah. No more weird cigarette burns on the ceiling.”

She laughed. One of the only nights in high school she had ever gotten stoned, Jess had picked her up from her house by surprise, throwing pebbles at her window. He found her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her cheeks flushed, and her mind spacey. All she’d wanted to do was drive around and smoke cigarettes and listen to Joy Division. At the time, she hadn’t told him about the blowout fight with her father and Fiona. Not until the next morning over breakfast in the diner. When she’d accidentally burned the ceiling of the car with her cigarette, leaving a dark circle, she’d started tearing up. In response, Jess lit a cigarette of his own and pressed it to the ceiling without hesitation, unphased.

Smiling at the memory, she threw an arm over his waist. “And no more barrette stuck in the window crank that won’t come out no matter how fucking hard I try.”

Jess snorted a laugh. After the Arctic Monkeys concert they’d attended the previous summer, they’d had sex in the backseat. One of her barrettes had somehow ended up eternally wedged in the window crank. The next day, she’d taken a pair of pliers to it fruitlessly. Jess had teased her, the woman who prided herself on being able to fix anything, mercilessly, ever since.

“And about a million other ‘no mores.’ Who knows what’ll happen in our next car,” he said.

“Only time will tell,” she muttered through a yawn. “I love you, James Dean.”

“Love you back,” he replied.

A gentle click sounded in the cozy quiet as Jess shut off the lamp. Getting comfortable again, he ran a hand up and down over her back and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Then, he bit at his bottom lip, and his mind flashed to the small red box in this duffel. With the thin gold ring, a tiny amethyst in the middle. He’d bought it months ago, on a random trip to some antique shop with Chris, and he had a few ideas in mind. He hadn’t nailed down a real proposal plan yet, but took it with to California just in case. It had been wishful thinking, of course, since California was neither of their favorite places. And they weren’t going to make it there anyway. Still, it was there. It was happening. He just didn’t know when. It made his insides feel fluttery and excited and almost sick with nerves. But, for now, he decided getting the fuck out of Kansas would be the first step.

Dozing, Ella let her mind wander again to their teenage years. She felt her heart ache with sentimentality, and then brushed it off. Not because she wanted to ignore the feeling, but because all of a sudden she didn’t feel it. She didn’t need to miss Jess when he was right next to her. She didn’t need to worry about the past. Let yourself have a middle. Lorelai’s words reappeared in her mind, soft and comforting.

“Jess?” she asked, voice beginning to grow rough with sleep.

“Hmmm?” he hummed, and she felt the word vibrating in her ear against his chest.

“Do you think that lady at the front desk is gonna go all Normal Bates on us?” she asked.

He sighed, but then it turned into a laugh. “No, Daria, I don’t think so.”

“I bet that’s what Jant Leigh thought too,” she replied, all too serious.

Jess kept his smirk. “Just call me Marion Crane, then.”

She giggled, then was quiet for another moment. Jess slipped his hand beneath her t-shirt and began rubbing small circles on her skin. Usually, she fell asleep within a couple minutes of laying down. Apparently, something was eating at her.

“I think I’m gonna take that job at the University for next year,” she spoke again suddenly.

“Really?” he asked, smirk turning to a small, genuine smile.

“Yeah,” she said, almost shyly. “I’ll have time for actually making some damn art, but I’ll still have a steady income, good benefits...ugh do I sound like a middle-aged tragedy?”

“No,” he said, reassurance in his tone. “I think it’s gonna be great, Eleanor. Seriously.”

“I just...I think I’ll be happy doing it.”

“I do too,” he said, kissing her hair once more. “Congratulations, Stevens.”

“Thanks,” she said with a nervous chuckle, blushing a bit. “And I’ll have that whole sexy professor thing going for me, which is a plus.”

#jess mariano #gilmore girls #gilmore girls jess #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls oc #gilmore girls fanfiction #fanfiction #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano oc fanfiction #jess x oc

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i-like-5sos · 4 years

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Awesome Can you make one where Ashton has a 16 year old sister and her boyfriend has sex with her without consent and has a baby and her boyfriend leaves her and Ashton and the boys help her get ready for the baby,the day the baby is born she has a boy and she names it fletcher after Ashton who she looks up to and adores!!

Hi there ! Thank you so much for the request :) <3

Anything For You

POV: Ashton Irwin

Word Count: 1991 (short and sweet)

Warnings: Swearing, one reference to the cause of pregnancy (nothing detailed at all).

Summary: Ashton’s younger sister finds herself pregnant and he supports her throughout her pregnancy with the help of Calum, Luke, and Michael.

A/N: So just so everyone reading knows, I have taken it upon myself to not include anything that has happened before the 5th month of this character’s pregnancy as I believe it could be triggering to readers. I did however, include everything else you’ve requested :) I hope you all enjoy!

5 Months In - Gender Reveal Ultrasound

As I sit in the waiting room, tapping my fingers on the hard plastic armrest of the uncomfortable chair I find myself in, I begin to notice the pattern my eyes have made darting between the clock, the door she left through, and the model uterus that sat on the table across the room. It’s been about 25 minutes since she went to find out the gender of her baby, and I feel like I might actually be going insane in this room. I sigh deeply and pull out my phone for the fifth time to try to distract myself again. I notice a text from Calum asking if we know the gender yet, and I quickly send a reply letting him know that there’s been no updates and that they wouldn’t let me in the room with her.

15 minutes pass and finally I hear the door open and watch as my sister enters the room and smiles wildly at me. Is it too soon to say she’s glowing? Maybe. But I swear to god she is.

“So? What are you having?” I say too loudly, drawing the attention of the very pregnant woman sitting next to the uterus.

“Calm down Ash,” She laughs softly, “I’ll tell you in the car to save these poor people the damage to their ear drums.”

…

I practically run to the car and unlock it quickly before sitting down in the driver’s seat and wait for her to join me. She takes her time walking over, smiling to herself at the obvious torture she’s putting me through at this moment.

What feels like an eternity later, she joins me in the car, sitting in the passenger’s seat. Before she even has the door shut, I’m asking her again about the results of the ultrasound. She chuckles and looks towards me before covering her ears.

“It’s a boy!”

“Ohmygod!” I shout out and crash into her hard, hugging her as best as I could manage around the center console of the car.

As I pull back, I remember the surprise I have waiting for her in the backseat.

“Wait here.” I say as I hold up a finger and quickly dash out of the car to the trunk to grab her the gift.

I return with the small piece of folded-up fabric.

“You said you weren’t going to be crazy about this” She said shaking her head.

“That doesn’t sound like me at all. I was clearly lying.” I chuckle as she shakes her head. “Just humor me.” I pass her the small white fabric piece.

I watch with joy as she unfolds the infant-sized shirt. Her eyes water slightly as she reads the writing on printed on the front – ‘mama’s boy’. She smiles softly as she looks back to me.

“Ashton this is too cute. I can’t wait to see him in it…. How did you know it would be a boy though?”

“As much as I would love to admit that I have the ability to predict the future… I didn’t know. I actually have another in the trunk that says, ‘mama’s girl’ as well.” I say and shrug.

She laughs and looks down at the shirt once more before putting it close to her chest and smiling softly again.

“I love it, thank you so much.”

“Anything for you”

8 Months In – Baby Shower

“Luke just texted saying they’re here. Get over here Mike!” I say loudly to Michael, who’s been eating the majority of the blue cupcakes at the small snack table we’ve set up.

He quickly joins Calum and I under the archway made of blue balloons near the gate, and we wait for the sound of Luke’s car doors shutting. I chuckle softly as her voice becomes more and more clear as they approach the back gate.

“Luke, can you please just take off my blindfold. I promise I won’t tell Ashton... Call me crazy but I think there’s a rule that says pregnant people can’t walk around blindfolded.”

“No way. The blindfold was my idea. And I don’t see any pregnancy rule books here so I’ll be the one making the rules.” Luke replies as he opens the gate and then guides my younger sister towards the three of us. “Okay we’re here… now don’t move. You can take it off in three… two…” He lets go of her arm and quickly runs over to stand with us. “one!”

She pulls of blindfold off and her face immediately lights up as she takes in the baby shower wonderland that once was Calum’s backyard. The large balloon archway, the table overflowing with gifts from the four of us, the diaper cake, the actual cake covered in baby blue icing surrounded by different blue themed snacks, the blue streamers and balloons covering the entire backyard and, of course, the table containing all kinds of baby shower games the four of us were able to find online.

“Guys! You shouldn’t have! I had my baby shower last week! You know this… You were there!”

“Yeah but… it sucked. There were no balloons and the only snack you had were pretzels… who even likes pretzels?” Michael says shrugging. “And besides, we’ve had this planned from the moment you and Ashton face timed us revealing little Michael Junior’s gender.”

“Michael, how many times does she have to tell you that she’s not naming him Michael Junior? We all know the little guy’s name is going to be Calum Junior.” Calum interjects and gets a swift shove from Michael.

“If she’s naming the baby after anyone it’s going to be named after me” Luke says proudly. “I’m the one that brought her safely to the best baby shower anyone’s ever seen!”

She laughs loudly and shakes her head “You guys are too much.”

…

Once all the gifts have been opened, the guys are trying to see how many balloons they can fit into Calum’s pool as we eat our cake and watch them.

“Thank you again for this amazing baby shower.”

“It was worth it to see you smile. You deserve to be happy.”

She sits there quietly for a moment before responding. “You’ve done so much for me over these last 8 months and I just want you to know how thankful I am to you and to the other guys too… I don’t know what I would do without you four.” She says with a layer of sadness to her voice and looks down at her cake.

“Hey now, you’re okay, you’re safe, you’re loved… You both are. We are here for you no matter what. Never forget that.” I say, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

Our attention is pulled away from the moment as we hear a loud crash of someone – Luke – falling into the pool, followed by the booming laughter of Calum and Michael.

9.5 Months In – The Night of The Birth

Everything is black as my eyes fly open in response to the sound of my little sister yelling out my name from the hallway as she bangs on my bedroom door. I shoot out of the bed as quickly as I can once I realize what was happening. I open the door to see her standing there in her pajamas in a pool of liquid on the floor.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Okay. We can do this.” I mumble and rush past her to grab the hospital bag in the hallway and begin down the stairs to get the car keys.

“Ashton.” She calls out to me from the top of the stairs.

I turn back to see her staring at me with fear and impatience on her face. Oh right. I run back up the stairs to help her walk down them and continue my mission to the front door. I throw my shoes on, grab the keys, and unlock the door. I begin mentally planning our route to the hospital while trying to decide whether to call or to text the boys once we were on our way, and I pause to take a moment to try and figure out what time it was in Australia to determine whether or not we’d wake up mom with our call... What time is it here?

“Ashton!” She says loudly, snapping me out on my haze.

“What? What did we forget? We have the bag and the keys, and you…” I mentally go over the checklist we had mad a few weeks ago for this exact moment.

“Your shirt maybe?” She says, gesturing to my bare chest.

“Fuck. Okay yeah maybe I need that.” I pat the pockets of my pajama pants and realize my phone is still charging in my room. “Might need my phone too… I’ll be right back.”

I dash back up the stairs, taking two at a time. As I get to my room, I grab the first shirt I see and quickly unplug my phone before running back down to join my sister at the front door.

“Okay, fully clothed. Now let’s go.”

9.5 Months In – After the Birth

As I stare at this beautiful child in my little sister’s arms, I can’t help but smile softly at the site before me. I’m an uncle! The sound of the boys entering the room pulls my eyes from the ball of sweetness before me.

“Oh my god… He’s so small!” Luke says, darting to the newborn.

“Look at him! So precious! How are you after… you know… birth and whatnot?” Calum asks, sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed.

“Tired” She replies, stretching her back and then smiling back down at her baby.

As we all take turns holding the newborn, we all fall in love with him instantly. How could we not? Michael promises to teach him how to shred on guitar, Calum somehow was able to find a bucket hat for a newborn and has the little guy wearing it, and Luke introduced himself and pretended to shake the baby’s hand.

“Okay… we’ve waited long enough. What’s his name?!” Michael asks excitedly as Luke hands the newborn back to his mother.

“I gave it a lot of thought and I finally decided on a name that I can only hope he will live up to… Fletcher.” She smiles softly as she looks over to me.

I’m speechless as I stare at the young woman I’ve known for the entirety of her life and have loved for every second of it. She has chosen to name her child after me. Me. I am truly honored as a tear slips out of the corner of my eye. I wrap my arms around her and Fletcher and hold the two of them, stunned.

As I let go and sit down in the chair beside the bed, I look back at the two of them.

“I don’t have the words to tell you how I feel right now. I am truly honored.” I finally manage to say.

“You have helped me through the worst days of my life… and you’re still here with me on the best day of my life. Ashton, you helped me more than I could ever say. I wanted my son to be proud of his name, and I know that the more he knows you, the prouder he will be. You’re my role model and I would be proud to have a son that grown up to be half the man you are.” She smiles at Fletcher, and then at me.

I get up to hug them both again and kiss my sister on the forehead. “Thank you so much” I whisper softly.

“I guess Fletcher’s a nice name… I still like Michael Junior though.” Michael jokes.

We all laugh together as we sit in the hospital room and continue to fall in love with Fletcher.

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bythebigcoolingtower · 4 years

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Eye on Springfield - An Interview with Raymie Muzquiz

Since working on eighteen episodes of seasons two and three of the Simpsons, Raymie Muzquiz has enjoyed a strong, thirty plus years career in the animation industry, including directing eight episodes of Futurama’s second run. Here, Raymie talks about his spell on both shows, his other projects and the industry itself.

Let’s start at the start, how did you get into animation and end up at Klasky-Csupo?

In 1988-89, I was working for a movie trailer company. I was a production assistant and then a post coordinator for about 2 years. I learned a lot about film post production and worked on a flatbed editor, dubbing machines, etc. (all pre-digital). However, it was nonetheless a miserable, unartistic, poorly-paying job that laid bare all those awful “Swimming With Sharks”, fear-and-loathing tropes of the movie business. My boss was a horror. He’d yell at me about the dressing in his salad, or the variety of bread on the sandwich. I was his presumed personal assistant to deride. Yet he would shamelessly “lick the boots” of celebs and execs higher up the food chain. To this day, I cannot watch movie trailers. On the rare trip to a theater, I sit in the lobby and have my wife text me when the feature starts.

During this awful period I would look daily through the trades for another job. One day in the Hollywood Reporter there was an ad that included a picture of Marge (I think). Klasky-Csupo (just blocks from my apartment!) was looking to staff for Season 2 of The Simpsons. Since I storyboarded all my student films and some action sequences in live-action low-budget features at Roger Corman’s Concorde/New Horizons in the late 80’s. I applied for a storyboard position. What happened next gave me whiplash. I was given a test. Hours after turning the in the test I hired as a staff storyboard artist to start two weeks hence and immediately given a freelance assignment.

How did I get this plum position with zero experience? This requires some context. The Simpsons was an unexpected TV-animation phoenix rising from the ashes of a poverty-row industry. It is little exaggeration to say that the TV animation talent pool (as opposed to feature animation) consisted largely of old, alcoholic and broken-spirited artists doing Saturday-morning hack-work, subsuming their talent to low budgets and low cel counts. The necessary talent were simply nonexistent for this new, hip renaissance. The doors opened to the young, the students and the inexperienced like me; someone who didn’t go to art school nor drew for a living. It was a singular event for me. I was ignorant that there was even a difference between animation and live action storyboards. I was even naive about my drawing ability. Imagine my reaction when I saw trained artists draw in a professional environment. It blew my mind! My only saving grace was that as a live-action film graduate, I knew film language. I could stage without “crossing the line”. Scenes “cut” together and “hooked up” and I was staging in depth rather than in the traditional “proscenium” cartoon style. My acting was restrained, not broad or cartoony.

I did my first storyboard freelance while still at the trailer company. It was for Jim Reardon; his first directing assignment: Itchy & Scratchy & Marge in 1989.

Can you explain the work you did on the Simpsons?

Everybody probably knows what storyboarding is, so I’ll keep it short. It’s the visualisation of the script/story. It’s TV animation’s biggest step from script to screen. You are staging the characters in space and acting them out and breaking it up into separate scenes that informs the entire rest of the process. Design, layout, key posing, action and timing build off the storyboard.

When you were assigned to work on the show what were your thoughts? It was a phenomenon by that point.

The first season’s episodes of the Simpsons were being re-runned to death. I remember doubting if they’d successfully make more before the buzz died off. When I was hired I couldn’t believe my luck. The Simpsons was THE hip show of the moment. To actually be a creative team member on something fresh and original AND get paid more than beggar’s wages was like winning the lottery.

How closely did you work with the directors and writers, what kind of notes and feedback did you receive?

When I arrived for my first meeting, Mark Kirkland and Jim Reardon were crowded in a small room with folding tables, right off of reception. I believe they were both directing for the first time. Although I was already hired to work in-house, I had to give two weeks to my current, satanic employer, so I was assigned work as a freelancer. It was to board an act of Itchy & Scratchy & Marge by its director, Jim Reardon. Little did I know what I was getting into.

I never had to draw so much in my life! My drawing hand (left) was killing me in those early months. I had to develop a callous on the middle finger. They gave me the “radio-play;” an audio cassette of the recorded dialog to draw to and tons of model sheets.

I remember being overwhelmed by the volume. And you had to draw in these tiny boxes of the formatted storyboard page. I didn’t have that kind of discipline (I never did: I eventually developed a style of drawing on blank pages, then fielding and formatting them onto a page. Sometimes I scaled my drawings down on the xerox machine. I also drew on post-its (the greatest invention in animation after cels) and taped them onto the formatted sheet.

As this was freelance, I actually only met with Jim twice: Once for the hand-out and then again to show him my roughs. I vaguely remember him asking for changes that I thought were off-show (I’d seen all extant episodes multiple times on TV by then). Plus this was my first time and really had no expectations of what the process was.

But--he was the director--I addressed his notes and turned in the storyboard to the receptionist without further feedback. This almost became my undoing. In future, I would know the director should go over the storyboard and decide if it was ready, needed further revision or even just check the “bookkeeping”; the placement of dialog, notes and scene and page numbering before releasing it to the producers (all the Executives at Gracie Films across town). However--for whatever reason--this didn’t happen. It went directly from reception to Gracie. And evidently the executives didn’t react well. I was ignorant of all of this for years; until Mark Kirkland told me what happened...

The Executives were displeased with the storyboard and demanded to know what happened. Someone blamed it on the new guy (me!). So it was decided I had to be fired (before I even started my first day on staff)!

Did I get thrown under the bus? I can’t say. I wasn’t there. I am only relating events second hand.

Anyway, Mark Kirkland, who shared the room with Jim Reardon and was present during my meetings came to my rescue (again, completely unbeknownst to me). He vouched for my character and said I was worthy of rescue and rather than firing me, I could work with him.

So I have Mark to thank for my career. If I was fired, it would have been crushing and I think it’s safe to say I would never have become the artist I’ve become in the thirty plus years of my career.

What was the pressure like working on the show and at the studios during that time?

Because of my lack of experience, I found it difficult judging deadlines and the necessary labor (and just pencil mileage) to succeed. Plus I was traumatised by my previous job; I was conditioned to fear punishment and humiliation at anytime for something I did or didn’t do.

The climate at Klasky/Csupo couldn’t be more starkly different; so egalitarian! Everyone was socialising and goofing around. Gabor Csupo couldn’t be a more laid-back boss! Long lunches with side-trips for comic books and toys! Nerf guns in the hall. I shared a tiny room with two other board artists, Peter Avanzino and Steve Moore. They would both have to vacate the room for me to reach my desk in the far corner. We bantered and laughed more than worked. Celebrities would drop by (Most memorable was meeting Frank Zappa). There were events always going on; bowling, screenings and parties. And yet, a ton of thought and drawing was necessary; especially for me. I worried I couldn’t work as fast as other artists. I often had to work nights and weekends to meet my deadlines. However, there always were other artists doing the same thing; they may have been more experienced than me, but they were young and not so disciplined; so I was never alone. Plus, you never knew how off the mark your roughs could be and after a meeting with the director and Brad Bird, you might suddenly be looking at a ton of revision work. I also remember that Brad was busy weekdays and meetings could sometimes only be done on Saturdays. I simply had a lot to learn and time to put in to build my proficiency. And Brad Bird was very important influence in those days: I could be nervous and exhausted preparing for a meeting with him, but he’d so infect you with his enthusiasm and creative vision that you’d end up re-doing the whole thing but be excited about doing it. He emphasized the cinematic aspects and empowered us to be bold and push the limits of traditional animation staging.

You worked on some of the show’s early classics, could you tell from your position how the episodes would come out?

My next episode for Jim Reardon was “When Flanders Failed”. Because of the kerfuffle of the first episode I did for him, I was anxious to be as professional and impressive as possible. I thought the act I did showed improvement. However, the episode seemed to languish at some point (after animation?) and word got around that it was a bust and wouldn’t reach air. My memory is hazy about this, but I was bummed at the time; thinking my working relationship with Jim was snake-bit.

A season later, it eventually did air. I’m not giving a very good account of this, sorry.

“Flaming Moe’s” was an episode I was excited about. I remember Brad Bird suggesting some very exciting staging that turned my head around. Especially the part where Homer ends up--“Phantom of the Opera-ish”--in the rafters. I think that was a turning point for me; I was going to be a Brad disciple and determined to push the staging from then on.

“Stark Raving Dad”, is memorable to me, but not for a good reason. It was one of the last episodes I worked on; only doing an act. I remember being scandalized that Michael Jackson was the subject of the episode. Being a Simpsons purist, I believed that the show existed in a parallel universe and celebrities were parodied for laughs; it was too hip to be a shill for celebrity. There was no Arnold Swarzenegger, there was McBain. There was no Hal Fishman (our local channel 5 anchor), there was Kent Brockman. Dr. Hibbert was a parody of Bill Cosby. Mayor Quimby was a parody of Ted Kennedy. Even Nick Riviera was supposed to be Gabor Csupo! Having Michael Jackson exist in this universe and embodied in a sympathetic character (rather than a target of ridicule) was seriously “jumping the shark” in my opinion. I believed the show had done the unthinkable and it would prove fatal to the series.

Of course I was wrong. The Simpsons goes on like a perpetual motion machine. But I couldn’t abide watching this wise and subversive show trample over its principles to star-fuck. Now of course, which celebrity HASN’T been on the Simpsons. As you may well know, “Stark Raving Dad” has been pulled from the series since the premiere of the HBO documentary “Leaving Neverland”, giving some credence to my long ago objection: sometimes it bites you on the ass.

“Black Widower” was my swan song. I remember meeting Kelsey Grammer at the table read and being mesmerized by his voice. He sounded just like Orson Welles. The act I boarded included Bob and Selma’s honeymoon. I wanted to give the staging a Hitchcockian influence with deep-focus, Z-axis compositions (like looking out of the fireplace, across the gas burner to Selma and Bob) and my first-ever use of DX (double exposed) shadows to provide menace. I thought that was my best work of the series.

One of my favourite early episodes is ‘Homer at the Bat’ which you storyboarded. What are your recollections on working on it? Did you get any specific notes when it came to the players?

“Homer” was my third “at bat” (pardon the pun) with Jim. He’s a baseball fan as I am, but he also PLAYED Chicago-Style Softball (baseball with a huge, soft ball). I’m a baseball fan too, but I felt I’d be exposed a dilettante due to my terminal lack of athleticism. I was assigned all three acts of the show as well! I really had to be on my game (again, pardon) and not miss any of the references. I reluctantly took him up on his offer playing in one of the Chicago-Style games one Saturday in Burbank. It was a sacrifice as I had to work weekends to keep up with the workload of this episode. I went with a fellow board artist, who’ll remain unnamed (to remain friends).

It went terribly. At bat, I whiffed three pitches in a row, and Jim kept pitching more and more out of pity. I missed them all. He finally had to tell me to just give the bat to the next guy. In the outfield, I stunk just as badly. The piece-de-resistance was when my fellow board artist was at bat and swung hard on a pitch. He missed the ball AND dislocated his knee. I ran to him as he plopped down in agony onto home plate with his knee, shin and foot pointed in the wrong direction. “If my leg stays like this much longer, I think I’m gonna start crying,” he said through the pain. After a terribly long moment, his shin and foot rotated snapped back into place. We hobbled off the field as Jim and his pals resumed the game. Could things have gone any worse? I was certain that Jim had no faith in me by that time. If so, he never said it. He was a laconic guy.

I worked on it a hundred years ago so I don’t feel the pride I objectively should. The episode went against The Cosby Show and beat it in the ratings! There’s even an exhibit in The Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, that I wasn’t aware of until I went there. No artist other than Matt is mentioned. It’s all about the writers and the players who voiced the show.

I still have the storyboards of Jose Canseco in the bathtub with Ms. Krabappel that Jose objected to and we had to cut. I’ll post them someday.

How do you reflect on your time working on the show? Do you ever watch those seasons and episodes back?

See below for details; but no. I haven’t watched the episodes I worked on or those seasons for decades. I haven’t watched any episodes after the 3rd season at all. I did see the movie.

The relationship between Klasky-Csupo and Gracie Films finished at the end of the third season, when Gracie decided to move production to Film Roman, what was your view of that situation?

With the handwriting on the wall that Fox might pull The Simpsons from Klasky-Csupo, the in-house producer Sherry Gunther countered by getting all us artists to sign a document tying us exclusively to Klasky-Csupo in an effort to block Fox access to the crew. That gambit didn’t dissuade Fox. They pulled the show anyway and took it to Film Roman. At the time, I wanted desperately to follow the show, but naively thought I couldn’t because I was bound by Sherry’s contract. Virtually everyone left Klasky-Csupo for Film Roman anyways; contract be damned.

The studio became a ghost town. I stayed, distressed that I had to work on Rugrats. However, I eventually concluded that being torn away from The Simpsons was the best thing for my creative growth. Wherein The Simpsons was written so well, closely supervised and finding its stride, The Rugrats scripts were mediocre and the gags not funny. Rugrats was a vacuum to fill and I was empowered to add gags and exercise Gabor’s mandate to really push the staging into warped and low-angled baby POVs that defined the series. It lacked the regimentation of The Simpsons and I exposed to all the other processes in making cartoons. On the Chanukah special I directed, I timed the animation, I even helped direct the voice talent and supervise animatic and final edit.

The Simpsons, like many prime-time animated shows, are dominated by writer/producers who closely control the creative aspects and the artists are more or less staying in their lanes.

After the Simpsons you were assigned to work on ‘Duckman’ where you directed eight episodes, what was the step up to direction like?

I didn’t go directly to Duckman. There was a period of boarding on Rugrats and assistant directing on two Edith-Ann specials for ABC. It was a sad time, something like being in purgatory, but one which I believe was necessary in retrospect.

Speaking of being in purgatory, here’s an anecdote. Klasky-Csupo was a bunch of empty rooms after the Simpsons left. I was working on Edith Ann one day and Gabor was walking a tour of potential clients through. I showed them what I was doing and then Gabor directed them to the next room; opening a door to usher them in, various large and small auto parts suddenly tumbled noisily out onto the floor. A car bumper, pieces of trim, a fender and hub-caps.

You may ask why auto parts were in there? I’ll tell you: When Rich Moore worked there, his office overlooked the corner of Highland and Fountain avenues. Over time, he and his crew witnessed a lot of auto collisions on that corner. They would go and retrieve the parts left behind and hang them on the wall. Rich obviously left without taking his collection and somebody decided to hide them all in this room. Suffice to say, it didn’t look professional and I felt terrible for Gabor at that moment.

When I did become director, there was many moments of panic. I was used to storyboarding to my personal standard and quality that defined my aesthetic. Paradoxically, being a director meant losing close control. I had to depend on clearly communicating to the storyboard artists, quickly learning you can only tell artists so much before they “top-off” and forget what you said. No one took notes! It was all by memory! I always took notes as a board artist. A good board artist makes a director look good. There are far more mediocre storyboard artists than good ones; mainly because the good ones are promoted to directors (I feel the quality has improved over time). And I had to deal with freelancers for the first time. They are the guys that fill-in when there’s not enough staff artists. These people were usually moonlighting for extra money and end up storyboarding your show in the style of the show they were working on during the day. There just wasn’t enough time in the schedule to fix everything without working crazy hours. The Simpsons had layout. So storyboards didn’t have to be so precise and if something wasn’t staged right or acting out in storyboard, you could work with a layout artist in shorthand to correct it. Virtually my entire career has been absent layouts. They are very rare for TV nowadays. This makes the storyboard all the more important. The bar must be high; we call them “layout storyboards”; they need to be closer to model and the acting must be spot on.

Animation timing was also something I had to get control of; At first, Duckman didn’t have a supervising timing director, who could maintain the quality and the timing aesthetics particular to the show. It was up to the director to check timing. I had almost no experience and it was a new show. No one person had the answers. I could review the timer’s work (so often a dreaded freelancer) and I could see it wasn’t at all right and I’d wholesale erase it, but then I panicked that I might have done more damage than good; suddenly in over my head. It took time, but I got it.

I believe that the director who masters his x-sheets is true master of his show. I could add quality and personal aesthetics in a new dimension.

Does you background as a storyboard artist influence the way in which you direct?

Absolutely. In animation history, there were directors who didn’t storyboard or even draw. There were a few of these “dinosaurs” on Rugrats. They sat and read the paper when we boarded their shows. But because of the overseas process of animation and the loss of layouts here at home, if you are going to direct at all, you have to be comfortable drawing a detailed, informed layout storyboard. It is literally the blueprint of your show.

That said, I had to mature as a director who storyboarded. It was insane to try and board all my episodes personally, though directors will put some work aside for themselves, especially if its a sequence that would be too hard to delegate to another artist. If a sequence involves a new character, location or prop integral to the story, it may not be designed yet, so I’ll take it on and “feel it out;” designing as I board.

I had to learn how to be a good delegator and a clear communicator. I pitch sequences to the board artist before they begin and give them roughs of designs, poses or staging I think is important for the sequence. From my boarding experience, I don’t like directors who don’t tell you what they want until after you’ve drawn the storyboard. That wastes time and effort. And morale. I want the artists to know my take and hopefully that will inform the storyboard they do. I also know from my board experience that you should balance criticism with praise. Communicate what you like about how they do this and that before you go through critiquing the parts that aren’t working. Ultimately, you want to help the board artists be successful in storyboarding it their way, not my way. If it works, don’t change it just because it isn’t the way you’d do it. Lean into and support what they’ve done.

‘Duckman’ had a cavalcade of guest stars throughout the shows run, did you ever get to meet any of them, and if so, do you have a favourite encounter?

I was always of two minds regarding using live-action stars for animation. Yeah, it’s fun to meet them and some like Jason Alexander can knock-it-out-of-the-park, but sometimes this kind of “stunt casting” backfires. In my first episode, we used Crispin Glover in a stunt role as a crazed maniac with only one line. He showed up brandishing an eight inch hunting knife acting like a REAL maniac. Maybe it was method acting, but we were scared of him and got him in and out as fast as we could. His delivery didn’t work for the line and it spoiled the joke in my opinion, but it remained in the episode. If we used one of the legion of professional voice actors available, we could have worked with them for the perfect “voice” and delivery and nailed it.

We also used Teri Garr for an episode (not one I was directing) and I attended because I was a huge fan of hers. I got to see her behind the mike as she looked over her pages and said acidly, “This isn’t exactly Tolstoy, is it.” That is the opposite attitude you should have when you’re hired. She was soon pitching underwear afterwards...obviously not Tolstoy either.

So I’ll say it again: using celebrities can bite you on the ass.

Performances aside, I certainly did enjoy meeting legends. Carl Reiner played a priest in Noir Gang. Mind you we recorded in a small studio that was in the back of the Rugrats building that was essentially a cavernous storage room. Ed Asner looked visibly uncomfortable when we huddled around him in there. I’ll never forget the look on Marina Sirtis’ face when she arrived to record an episode. Me and a couple of other guys were laying in wait in this sketchy storage area eating our lunches. She was concerned: “is this the right place?” I felt like a lech and stopped going to records that I didn’t have to be at.

Overall, if the celebrity you’ve cast for a voice roll has theater experience, you are more likely to get a good vocal performance. Especially musical theater experience. They are more aware of their voice and have the tools. This goes for Jason and others like Tim Curry and Bebe Neuwirth; all great voice talent to have behind the mic.

You worked on the second run of Futurama, had you been a fan of the original seasons?

No. I didn’t watch the show before. I had to catch up and learn the “canon” when I was hired.

How did you get involved in working on Futurama?

The animating studio, Rough Draft, was something of a clique. They didn’t just hire “anybody” and unlike most studios, they maintain a staff of lifers who usually have the choice positions. I knew Peter Avanzino from our Simpsons days doing storyboards together, so he vouched for me. I was hired to direct on the 2nd season of Drawn Together. So they had a taste of what they could expect from me. I was no longer an unknown quantity when Futurama came around.

One of the eight episodes you directed was, ‘The Mutants are Revolting’, the shows hundredth episode. How special was it to work on such a landmark episode?

It had the most visibility of my episodes, at least internally. They made T-shirts and some publicity art and even the script had a nicer cover. But it was the episode with the most headaches. The scope of the story was huge with multiple set pieces. The opening newsreel, movie in a movie of the Land-Titanic, the asteroid delivery, the party at Planet Express, the riot in the sewers and the flood and “parting of the red sea” climax all required a ton of designs and characters; plus more hand-drawn and CG effects. That’s a lot to manage and marshall for a TV show. Most episodes don’t require the director to do this kind of heavy lifting. I find that when a show demands this much visually, the story ends up being more superficial, gag driven and episodic feeling. Such is the case for this episode. It was visually pumped up because it was representing the 100th episode; meaning I was saddled with managing lots of logistics rather than the usual character-based comedy and emotion of say, Tip of The Zoidberg, which is a relationship story that--as a director--I feel I give more time to flourish and shine with.

‘The Mutants are Revolting’ features some fantastic animation, most notably a brief sequence of Bender standing perfectly still as the Planet Express ship moves around him. Can you explain the challenges of a sequence like that?

That’s a good, insightful question. A shot like this shows off the resources Rough Draft has that aren’t available at just any other studio doing TV animation. The interior of the Planet Express Ship was built and animated in CG. At it’s gimbal point was a CG version of a stationary Bender; locked to field, but who’s feet move with the CG ship. Once the CG elements were approved, they were printed out as wire frame drawings printed onto pegged paper. My Assistant Director drew key poses of the characters on a separate layer in register with the CG print outs, old school on a light box animation disc. This all was sent to our overseas studio Rough Draft Korea for inbetweening and color of the characters only. That came back as an alpha-channeled digital file and layered over the CG animation in our digital compositing department.

Scott Vanzo runs the department and directs all the CG animation effects. I can’t remember who exactly built the interior of the PE ship and animated it, so I’ll rely on IMDb: Don Kim and Jason Plapp. But all the guys in the digital department do tremendous work and allowed us to fine tune a lot of animation (that doesn’t have CG in it); giving us the ability that raises the quality and takes the curse off of overseas animation limitations.

‘The Tip of the Zoidberg’ was nominated for a Primetime Emmy, how proud were you of that achievement and the episode itself?

The episode was one of my favorites; it was character focused and elaborating on canon so a director couldn’t ask for more. As for the Emmy nomination, it’s one of those show business awards that I realized early I can’t get emotionally vested in. The Futurama guys have a formula for figuring out which episode will be submitted. I think it has something to do with each writer getting a shot at the statue. And then from then on it’s just politics.

You’ve also done work on ‘Disenchantment’, giving you the distinction of having worked on all three of Matt Groening’s shows. What’s your relationship like with him?

I can’t help but laugh at this question. I’ve run into him twice out in public over the years and he didn’t recognize me. Once at the Moscow Cat Circus! But that humbling fact aside, he’s a genuinely nice, funny person devoid of pretence and he’s said some very complementary things about my work. However, it’s all business. Like virtually all primetime shows, he’s with the writers at their separate production office. Animation production takes place in a different geographical location. My face time is limited to usually 2-3 meeting points in a show’s schedule. Anything in between are fielded via emails routed through coordinators and assistants.

As well as short form animation you’ve been involved with several feature length productions, including ‘The Rugrats Movie’ and ‘Despicable Me’, what are the key differences between long from and short form animated projects?

I don’t think I’ve ever had a purely feature production experience. The Rugrats Movie(s) were spin-offs from TV series so some processes were grandfathered in from TV production. Despicable Me was truly off-the-wall in that the storyboard artists were working remotely from literally all over the world. No one met each other. I met with Chris Renaud once. I was not allowed to see the entire script, only pages here and there. It was called “Evil Me” at the time. I was truly working in the dark and ultimately, they didn’t use anything I drew. Which to me seemed par-for-the-course: this was one harebrained, inefficient, right-hand-doesn’t-know-what-the-left-hand-is-doing way to make a show. Again, I predicted it would fail. Again, I was wrong.

At the time I was working on Despicable Me, Gru looked like Snape from Harry Potter and there were no minions yet, just an “Igor” kind of 2nd banana that was a shorter version of the final Gru design.

So my takeaway from those experiences is that I prefer TV production. You don’t have the luxury of a feature schedule, but there is less time for executives to get replaced, sundry monkey-business and creatives pulling the rug out from under you. However, TV is catching up in those regards. See below.

Do you have a scene or episode you’re particularly proud of working on?

I feel fulfilled and proud of directing and being supervising producer on Hey Arnold: The Jungle Movie. I was empowered to work in every aspect of the process and benefit from my experience to make it the smoothest running ship and happiest crew ever. Only at the very end did the executives get into overdrive meddling. But it ran well and looked good. It may not be as funny as my prime time stuff, but I think we elevated the material across the board; writing, design, animation quality. And it was a project put in mothballs 15 years before being resurrected. So it completes me in a way.

Ultimately, I believe work is about relationships and quality of life. The shows where you were empowered and respected and not overworked due to inefficiency are the shows I’m proud to work on. As Jim Duffy would always say, “It’s only a cartoon.”

Often sequences are cut or revised before broadcast. Do you have any favourites that didn’t make it in?

If I had, I’ve forgotten them.

What are the biggest changes you’ve seen in the industry over your time and what do you think the next big change will be?

The trend seems to be as I get better and more efficient at my job, creators and writers (especially in streaming prime-time) are becoming more entitled, indecisive, mecurial and demanding. As processes have evolved in digital technology, we’ve opened the door for those in power indulging in more rewrites, revisions, reviews, etc. Despite the technical advancements, animation remains expensive and time intensive and good artists (especially in TV) have to work intelligently and diligently on tight schedules to produce funny, inspired, detail-oriented work. Rewrites and revisions burn out artists and make us feel like office machines and though our overlords pay for the last minute re-dos, they are often throwing out higher quality work for patchwork revisions that lower the overall quality of a show.

Who inspired you as a young animator and who do you look to now?

Ironically, I never saw myself becoming an animator. I did do some stop-motion on Super 8 as a kid. But that was because I didn’t have access to peers to act and help. What inspired me were live action directors with strong, individual styles: Orson Welles, Stanley Kubrick, Peter Greenaway and Terry Gilliam. I think of these guys in essence as “live-action-animation directors”. The stylization in their sequence planning, shot selection and composition as well as how production design integrates in their storytelling reminds me of how background design and art direction naturally occur in animation production.

I’m sure there are new visionaries out there, but I’ve become so disenchanted with modern cinema, I rarely see new movies anymore. I find streaming TV much more interesting. Current movies strike me as self-consciously mannered and hyperactive. I find it endlessly fascinating looking back into cinema history before movies had to begin with three or four production company logos whooshing noisily about.

What advice would you give to people looking to break into the animation industry?

I’ve seen an improvement in the college educated animation students over the years. They seem to be of a higher intellectual standard than before. They aren’t as thrown by the rigors of schedule and they ALL can draw circles around me.

Be original in your own work, but also be a craftsman (as opposed to purely an artist) who can take criticism neutrally and have the tools to fit in the grand scheme of a show that might challenge your personal aesthetics.

Denis Sanders, a directing teacher I had in college said the director’s job is to be “an expert at all things”. In animation, that translates into intellegently knowing what to draw. If a character is looking under the hood of a car, know what an internal combustion engine looks like and what reasonable pieces you can have your character toss out of said engine. The distributor, the carburettor. Find and use reference! Go that extra step and inform your work with the texture of reality.

Don’t regurgitate old tropes. A trite example of what I’m talking about: If a character is peeking at another, avoid the obvious keyhole in the door trope. Keyholes aren’t in doors anymore. It’s been a cliche from the beginning of cinema. Rather, crack the door open, slide your cellphone under the door, look through a window or punch a hole in the door and look in. Like I said, this is a trite example, but making non-obvious choices rather than knee-jerk non-choices makes cartoons fresh and funnier.

What animated shows do you currently watch and what’s your opinion on the current state of animation?

It’s a terrible admission, but I’m not watching anything in animation. There’s a lot of animation that seems to be just writer-driven, animated live-action sit-coms. There isn’t a reason for them to be animated. Those are the kind of jobs I get offered a lot. It seems like a more trouble than it’s worth.

Who are some young animators you think we should be looking out for?

Gosh, I don’t know.

What projects are you currently working on?

I’m productively unemployed at the moment.

Where can people follow you on social media?

I only do tumblr: mashymilkiesinc.tumblr.com

#The Simpsons #Futurama #Eye on Springfield #Raymie Muzquiz #Not tall or wide

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