#my humor has devolved

[whostolemypuddingcup]

Why is this so funny to me

[blukou]

Reposted from my twitter

That’s right my favorite Arknights character. Sussy Glitter.

[mossy-chaos]

why is a low quality bar of soap spinning whilst funkytown plays in the background the funniest shit ever

[fiiresiidefrfr]

Credit to Pixel Isaiah on YouTube for creating this cinematic masterpiece

[pomefioredove]

who they fall for, heartslabyul

I did a longer one of these for rook and now I can't get the idea out of my head, so... series! (part 1/8)

summary: soulmates type of post: blurbs characters: deuce, ace, cater, trey, riddle additional info: romantic, not proofread so maybe ooc, gender neutral partner, really just thoughts

𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞

trope: dorks in love

Deuce ends up with someone who, most of all, challenges him. they put him at ease, and there's a definite shared gentleness between the two, but it's his partner's subtle rebellious streak that wins him over (though they definitely know when to tone it down). puppy love that turns into something deeper. they accept him as he is, flaws and all, and they support him in his growth towards becoming a better person. fiercely loyal. they and Deuce would constantly be fighting to be the "chivalrous" one. taking turns telling the waiter the other asked for no pickles, running to hold doors open, etc. it's cute, but a little competitive, just enough to motivate him.

𝐀𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚

trope: tsundere

his soulmate? someone who can take a joke. no, no, I'm kidding, but they would have a wicked sense of humor, one that compliments his perfectly. and an adorable laugh, of course, snorts and all. someone who can feed his ego without overdoing it, keeping him wrapped around their little finger (trust me, he loves it). a little mutual teasing never hurt anyone, right? at the same time, though, they'd be completely devoted, loyal, and loving, just like he is. he brags about being a ladies man, though, really, he's almost completely closed off when it comes to matters of the heart. it takes a lot of patience (and a lot of putting up with his shenanigans) before those walls start coming down to reveal the romantic hidden behind them.

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝

trope: slowburn

similar to friends to lovers, but of a different flavor. Cater is subtly flirty with almost everyone, it's the people-pleasing, but a soulmate? yeah, he'll believe it when he sees it! of course, he's completely blind to what he's needed all along being right in front of him. someone who listens to him, who cares deeply about his feelings, who can read his body language and know just what he's thinking. someone he feels comfortable around without feeling the need to hide himself. a bestie, if you will. he's absolutely the first to catch feelings and drives himself mad about it, not daring to make a move out of a fear of vulnerability (or being a weirdo, take your pick) and it devolves into months, years worth of cringe pining. "looking at the pictures they'd taken together and giggling" pining.

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

trope: weirdos in love

thought it was gonna be domestic bliss? nope. I'm saving that one. Trey isn't quite ready to settle down yet, having spent his whole life taking care of others (to the point where he hasn't had a moment to figure out who he is...) and so he's put a hold on the whole "romance" thing. of course, the last thing he was expecting after graduation was to bump into someone that would throw that plan out the window. truly, his soulmate is someone he feels he can be himself with, who gives him the ability to relax and be the one who gets pampered, for once... it's a very equal and loving relationship with a like-minded and responsible person. one who goes along with all his bits, too.

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

trope: opposites attract

oof the ouch. no, Riddle is not ready for the ups and downs of a relationship, and he knows that. he's always chalked up his disinterest in romance to his studies, and his utter disinterest in taking anyone home to meet his mother's highly specific future-in-law criteria. though, secretly, Riddle has held onto his own little list of "perfect" traits, almost going as far to fantasize about an imaginary partner to keep him company. the person he does end up falling for makes that list null and void. they're daring, adventurous, creative, curious, open to all sorts of nonsensical ideas that challenge all of Riddle's. they represent a sort of freedom that he's never had, and before he can even hate them, he finds himself falling. but someone like that could never tie themselves down to someone like him... right?

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Ok, I have two alternatives, pick which one you like the best.

Reader get picked to tutor Eddie even though they have always been at each other's throat, she thinking he's a drama queen, pissed that the popular people doesn't like him and he thinks she's a stuck up bitch without humor.

So they go back and forth but maybe one day when she's having a bad day and Eddie says something and she starts crying he gets all "what, how, why? What did I do, please don't cry!"

Or, that he catches her reading a romance novel and outwardly she has always just read classics - books that are 'high education'

Request by @somethingvicked 🫶💞 went with the first option 💞

Warnings; Little bit of angst, meanish Eddie, fluff. Accidental kiss.

💌🎀💌🎀

"You've got to be kidding me?" you gawk at Miss O'Donnell who has called you back at the end of class. She's asked you to tutor someone and at first you were all for it.

That's until you found out it was Eddie Munson, Munson who is currently sitting at the back of the class with his feet up on the desk in front of him, he gives you a sarcastic little wave and you turn back to Miss O'Donnell and hope she comes to her senses.

"He needs a tutor if he wants to graduate. You're the best student in the class. It will look wonderful on your college applications that you tutored Mr Munson" shit there was really no getting out of this.

Reluctantly you turn to Eddie who already doesn't like you. In his honest opinion you seemed prissy and stuck up. The two of you spent half your time at each other's throats, it had been like that for so long.

Equally you couldn't stand Eddie either. He was loud, a show off and you were sure he was jealous of the popular people he claimed to hate.

How you would manage to tutor him for weeks on end was anyone's guess. One thing's for sure, you were dreading this.

"Meet me after school tomorrow and we can get started okay?" You say to him already grumpy at having to spend extra time with him. Eddie swings his legs off the desk and smirks, then bows.

"As you wish princess" ugh, you storm out but not before hearing Eddie's laughter.

Asshole.

🎀💌🎀💌

The first week of tutoring Eddie is as horrible as you expected. He's antagonistic, makes no effort and needles at your patience until it's paper thin.

"How can you be expected to graduate if you don't make an effort?" You snap as Eddie strums on his guitar.

"That old bat has it in for me, even when I try my best she still doesn't care" Eddie hisses back and you feel the beginnings of a headache come on.

"You just need to apply yourself better, if you want to graduate then you need to ace this Munson" he glares at you.

"Don't you think I know that? It's easy for you though isn't it princess, since your little miss perfect" the insult flares up your annoyance and you and Eddie devolve into your usual arguments.

"Don't you think I have better things to do then tutor you Munson? So do us both a favour and start paying attention, so we can go our separate ways sooner".

He huffs and places down his guitar with gentle care, grabs his notebook and

"Did you draw these?" you ask curious as you trace your fingers over the images on his notebook. He nods and looks at you like he's expecting you to give him shit.

"They are really good Munson, you could think about applying to an art course after graduation" Eddie scoffs and takes his notebook back.

"Yeah like anyone's going to take me with my grades" his tone is all annoyance and it pisses you off.

"I was only trying to compliment you, why do you have to be so touchy all the time" you look away from him stubbornly, he is silent for a few seconds and when he speaks again his voice is soft.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to a lot of compliments from people" this softens you as well and you turn to face him and give him a small smile.

"Well you're really good" there's a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks when you say this. He nods and settles back down beside you.

"You know uh, you're pretty good with the whole writing thing, uh shit, you know what I mean" pleased and a little flustered at his compliment you clear your throat and mutter thank you, then get started with the book you and Eddie are reading for class.

🎀💌🎀💌

Today has been the worst day. You overslept, forgot to hand your essay in to your biology teacher, the rain soaked you completely as soon as you left your home and you've been verging on a cold ever since.

So the thought of having to tutor Munson again does not fill you with joy, in all honesty all you want is your bed and to sleep. You couldn't get sick, you had too much to do.

Of course from the moment you meet up with Eddie he's difficult. All because it's Friday and he has a Hellfire meeting.

"I have to set everything up princess, I don't have time to waste here with you" furious you round on him.

"You think that I want to be here? No. I'd rather be at home so sit down and let's get on with this so I don't have to sit with your annoying ass any longer than I have to"

"Well at least I'm not a stuck up bitch with no sense of humour and a permanent stick up my ass"

Eddie's words cut to the bone and you stiffen in response. Don't cry, don't cry you chant to yourself, but you can't help as the tears roll down your cheeks, Eddie's big brown eyes widen in shock as you begin to cry.

Humiliated, you're just about to leave when he steps in front of you. "Wait, what did I do?" The two of you exchanged insults on a daily basis and you had never cried before, Eddie begins to panic as your sobs continue.

"Please don't cry" he says, he hates seeing you cry. Your little whimper stabs at his aching heart and on instinct he reaches over to you and takes your hand, the gesture surprises you both and it dries up your tears.

"I'm sorry, I don't like seeing you cry, please stop" you sniff and wipe the remainder of the tears away, Eddie's hand is still holding yours and it's making you feel things that you never expected.

Eddie gently strokes your hand with his thumb, marvels at the soft skin and how your hand fits perfectly in his own.

Uh, shit. This was new. You smile at him, suddenly seeming shy. His heart skips a beat. Jesus h Christ.

"I didn't mean it" he stumbles over his words and you sigh sadly, peer at him with an expression that tugs at his heart.

"Yes you did" he shakes his head fervently and assured you that he didn't.

"I just snapped back without thinking, I'm sorry" he pleads with you and you hear the sincerity in his voice and calm down a bit.

"I'm sorry too. Today has been so shit, I'm tired and I feel like crap. I just want to sleep" Eddie immediately grabs his notebook and pencil and sits down, he looks to you patiently.

"Let's do half an hour and I'll cram as much as I can in my brain and then I'm going to drive you home okay?" relived you nod but still feel worried.

"Miss O'Donnell won't be happy" you tell him and he shrugs as if he doesn't care one bit.

"Leave the old dragon to me okay princess?" touched at his sweetness you take his hand and squeeze it as a thank you. Surprisingly the half hour passes by cordially and Eddie is still sweet.

Before you know it the half hour has ended and Eddie is true to his word and drives you home. You don't feel much better and your stomach is fluttering like crazy being so close to Eddie.

What the hell was happening? Was this some side effect of the flu? Eddie's big brown eyes meet yours, "Thanks for driving me home Eddie"

He shrugs like it's no big deal and on impulse you reach over to kiss his cheek. The only thing is he moves so you miss completely and end up pressing your lips against his.

His eyes widen and you pull away embarrassed, your heart is racing and your lips are tingling from the kiss. You stammer out an apology but Eddie waves it off, you race out the door and into your house.

All the while Eddie is touching his lips, his own heart is racing a mile a minute and all he can think about is that he really wants to kiss you again.

💌🎀💌🎀

[vivalabunbun]

A Long Time Coming

Summary: Going back to the place that started it all as a pair different than before.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Modern AU, Childhood Friends AU, Fluff, humor, slight angst, slight dubcon, exhibitionism? kinda? porn with plot, slight yandere alhaitham, mentions of marriage, marriage pressures, pushy family.

Authors Note: This is a small continuation of this basically you take alhaitham back to your parents’ house. I wrote this in a rush to finish it in time for his birthday. Enjoy

Officially becoming a couple with Alhaitham was as if your world had been flipped upside down, yet not a piece of furniture had been knocked over in the event. That is to say, everything and nothing has changed. Your apartment still housed one, the same workplace banters, the same comfortable silence. Yet, on weekends in your bed lays another body. Under the covers, curious hands roam, and in the air lingered the scent of passion. 

However, once the work week started, the two bodies untwine, becoming you and Alhaitham. No one at the office suspected the fresh development between the two of you, not even your new drinking colleagues. Although, Kaveh has noted to you:

“That guy has been walking around much smugger than usual. Like he just completed all the trials of life. Do you think he got a pay increase again?”

The morning after that fateful night while across the kitchen table, there was a firm handshake agreeing to the boundaries of your budding union. Particularly, that under no circumstances shall a certain blond be the first to discover the true nature of this relationship. Once Kaveh knows, then all of Sumeru and Teyvat will know too. Plus, the absolute hysterics he’ll devolve into when he’s the last to know that the two of you were an item will be the show of a lifetime. Great minds think alike after all. 

Right now you and Alhaitham were in his rented car on the way to the first big challenge of your relationship: Meeting your parents. Well, that is a bit misleading, your parents already know Alhaitham, they practically were his secondary guardians, often looking after him when his grandmother was busy. Their eyes watched the pair of you grow up as their wrinkles grew. 

But things have changed, Alhaitham is no longer just the neighbor's grandson and your childhood friend. He was now going to be introduced as the man you are dating. That fact made you jittery the whole drive, nerves bouncing off the corners of your skull, as you held the basket of fruits Alhaitham had bought as a gift to them. 

“The fruits will get bruised if you keep tossing the basket with your legs.” He remarked, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“I can’t help it. I’m nervous, Haitham. I don’t know how you’re so calm.” You consciously made the effort to still your leg.

You glanced over at him, taking a moment to admire his side profile, his face and demeanor stoic as ever. Alhaitham, who usually spent the weekends in his comfortable t-shirts and sweatpants, made the effort to wear a crisp black button-down and tailored slacks. You also observed the extra effort he had put into his hair today. 

“Simple. I am a familiar face to your parents, and they often commend me for my accomplishments, not to mention my physique.” Large hands firmly grasped the steering wheel as he made the turn down the well-known road.

“Oh? Then why are you all dressed up mmm?” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“It will serve me well to maintain a good impression.” He swiftly rebutted.

You let out an exasperated sigh while shutting your eyes. If you had a sliver of the self-confidence your former childhood friend had, you’d conquer the corporate world. You faced the road again, basket shifting in your lap as you sank lower into the plush leather seat. 

“Remember what I said back in the apartment, absolutely no PDA in front of them. You already know how they are.” 

“I am aware.” 

His polished car pulled into the driveway of your parent's house, the trees in the front lawn casting a nice shade from the blazing light of the sun. He shifted the stick into park. The gentle rumble of the engine ceased the moment he pulled out the keys. Alhaitham swiftly unbuckled, opened, and exited his car. A resounding thump felt as the driver-side door closed. All the while you fumble with your seatbelt, the oversized basket impeding your dexterity. Then finally the click that signaled freedom just as the passenger-side door unlatched. 

“I’ve carried this for long enough. It’s your turn.” You gestured towards the fruit-filled hassle on your lap.  

“Alright.” He effortlessly took the basket from your lap with one arm, and the other outreached towards you patiently.  

You held back your teasing remark as you accepted his invitation, gently placing your hand in his awaiting palm as he helped you out of your seat. Your heart couldn’t help but flutter at his actions, hoping to control the growing smile on your face when you turned away to close the car door. Your hands swayed together up the pathway to the front door, steps matching. 

Your nerves growing as the distance decreased until you were right in front of the lacquered wood. You hastily pulled your hand out of his tender hold, palms getting a bit sweaty. 

“Again, no touching in their presence.” You warned once more. 

Swiftly you pressed the doorbell, its cheerful chime drowning out any possible response from Alhaitham. From behind the door, you could hear the soft thumps of your mother’s feet against the wooden flooring as she strode up. When you hear the clicks of your mom unlatching the door, you took a side step away from Alhaitham, putting a bit more space between your bodies. 

The door flies open. 

“Oh! Dear! Our daughter has arrived! With a handsome guest!” Your mom called back towards your dad. 

“Is it Alhaitham, honey?” Your father’s voice rang from deeper in the house.

It’s been less than a minute and you already want to sink through the floor in embarrassment. Your face begged to be shielded away from your lover’s prying eyes, despite his stoic face he was definitely enjoying this. Just how many times has your mother praised the sculpted perfection that was his face? 

‘It’s just for a few hours, you can power through this. You will survive.’ You repeated this silent mantra in your head. 

Four cups of tea were placed on the living room table, freshly cut fruits taking their place in the center. Your parents both sitting on the opposite sofa from you and Alhaitham. Your lover seated himself comfortably directly in front of your father while you sat at the far opposite end, even placing a throw pillow between you and him as if to create a barrier. 

Your mother was chatting nonstop, questioning Alhaitham about every topic she could.

“How has work been, lil Haitham?”

“The usual.”

“Oh my! Have you grown even taller?”

“My last health check-up did not indicate such a thing.” Despite loathing small talk, he answered overall politely in his monotone voice.

“Then… Have you finally found someone special? A lover?” Your mother pressed, eyes twinkling.

During the last question, you were taking a sip of your tea, only to choke when you processed what your mom had just asked. 

“Ah, not on the carpet child! It’s brand new!” Your mother chided. 

“... You have something to say, little one?” Your dad asked as he handed you a napkin, one brow raised. 

Ah, there’s no use in delaying the truth any longer. After all, telling them was the whole purpose of the two-hour drive, with Alhaitham even going through the trouble of renting a car. As if preparing to rip off a band-aid you counted down in your head, prepping your eardrums. 

3-2-1

“Alhaitham and I are seeing each other.” You quickly revealed. 

Instantly the air was filled with the harmonized gasp of your parents, their hands clutching onto one another and their mouths agape. Their owl-like eyes shiftng between your now red-stained face and your lover’s neutral expression. Expressions morphing from utter shock to disbelief, then finally melting into joy.

“Oh! Dear! The gods have answered our prayers!”

“I know, honey. My faith has been renewed.” 

They were right. Somewhere up above, there must be a god amused by your suffering. You wanted nothing more than for the couch to swallow you as your cheeks burned. May if you were to be sucked into some subspace, you can avoid the absolute tidal wave of questions from your mother’s mouth. 

“For how long?”

“Ah… for about two months now.” 

“How did this happen?” 

“L-long story…” 

“Have you moved in together?”

“Not yet, mom.”

“What date is the wedding? Planned names for the kids? You should name one after-”

“We are planning to take things slowly-”

“Slowly?!” Your mother’s voice peaked. 

Your mom and Kaveh should compete to see who can shatter your eardrums first with their shrills. Your gut churned as you knew what was about to come next.

“You’ve known each other for over sixteen years already, is that not slow enough??”

“I-it’s not the same-”

“Most people your age get married after knowing someone for only a fraction of that time!” 

“U-um-”

“Oh, why is my daughter so indecisive? Do you know just how many people would kill for your place? Poor lil Haitham’s youth is being wasted.” Your mother cradled her face in her hand, disappointment evident. 

A chill overtook your body. The frosty hands of insecurity ran along the back of your neck, preventing you from choking out a response. Not that you had a good answer anyway. 

In fact, you did not have an answer for why you wanted this relationship to move slowly. Were you just scared? Indecisive like your mother just described? More troubling was that Alhaitham also heard your mother’s outburst. From experience, you knew Alhaitham loathed nothing more than things that wasted his time. He is human, his patience is finite.

The atmosphere was tense, despite the beautiful blue sky of Sumeru outside, the room seemed dark and dreary. The cups of tea now growing cold. Deciding to step in from the sidelines, Alhaitham deemed it inappropriate for the conversation to end like this.

“Currently, the geo-political atmosphere has been tense with raising concerns over Snezhnaya. As a result, the economy in Sumeru has been going through a bit of stagflation, not to mention the rapidly inflating prices of houses. As you know, ma’am, I am currently renting out my home to a colleague to cover a portion of the mortgage payment.” He took a sip of tea. 

 “This is all to say that now is just not the right time.” He finishes, placing the cup back onto the wooden table.

“He’s right, honey.” Your father finally contributed to the conversation. 

“Alhaitham and our little one are still young, and the world is turbulent. We shouldn’t be putting more pressure on their shoulders, honey.” Your father reached over to soothe your mother's arms. 

“Once the state of the world settles down, please let me ask for your daughter’s hand.” Alhaitham asked while looking sincerely into their eyes, a sign of his respect for them. 

The gesture brought a surge of heartwarming pride through your parents. As your mother soon changed gears into singing praises of her prospective future son-in-law, the atmosphere in the room light like the sun outside once more. You looked over at Alhaitham, a thankful and knowing smile gracing your lips as you tuned out your mother. 

Many people assume that academically gifted geniuses, such as Alhaitham, lack social and emotional awareness. But the existence of the ashen-haired man beside you shatters that preconceived misconception.

 Alhaitham knew how to take control of the situation, he knew how to dispel tension, and how to mediate a difficult conversation. Perhaps he had learned it from his constant observation of strangers, or maybe from the philosophy novels he had browsed. 

Your hand began inching towards him along the sofa, heart longing to feel his warmth through your skin, to intertwine your fingers. He shifted his body, increasing the space separating you. 

Your hand halted, retreating back to your side shameful like a sinner. You didn’t feel like you had the right to be upset, after all, it was you who told him how distastefully your parents would react to physical displays of affection. 

It may be that the opportunity for tender intimacy between you and him came so sparsely. Only two days out of seven could you act on your affections for one another. Yet, here you were deprived of it in the house you and he shared many memories in. It left you with a bitter sting in the heart.  

The bored gods seem to not be able to get enough of the drama playing out in front of them. Because as if scripted, the moment you and Alhaitham tried to bid your goodbyes, your parents began to pester for the pair of you to stay for dinner. 

“Little one, your mother and I put so much effort into renovating the place. Don’t you want to see?” Your father's lips frowned.

“I also got up extra early to get the freshest ingredients for supper. Do you not miss our cooking?” Your mom guilt-tripped. 

“Well, you see Haitham needs to return the car soon-”

“No, I don’t. I made sure to pay for two days' worth of rental, enough to cover a weekend. Also, it is almost my usual dinner time.” His curt voice answered from behind you. 

Your face snapped back towards him, the look of utter betrayal plastered all over your features. Outnumbered three to one now, you had no choice but to cave as your shoulders dropped. The gods must be laughing at your suffering, wanting the comedy to continue. 

“We’ll go rest a bit in my room…” You quietly uttered. 

“That’s wonderful! Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes! Your room has been left untouched.” Your mom chimed, smile beaming. 

“Yes, yes. We’ll go there now…” You listlessly began the journey up the stairs, Alhaitham right behind. 

“Little one.” Your dad called out from the bottom of the steps. 

“Yes?”

“The door is to remain open at all times.” He reminded. 

“Dad, we’re not kids-”

“House rules.” Your father crossed his arms, stern eyes glancing over Alhaitham and you. 

You dropped your head, feeling as if you had reverted back to your teenage years again. Today was really testing your resolve isn’t it? 

“Fine.” You huffed, continuing your way up the shiny new stairs. 

--

The moment you reached your room, you softly pounded a fist into Alhaitham’s stupidly firm chest. 

“Traitor.” You huffed out. 

“I can’t help it, your parents’ cooking is too good of an offer to pass up.” He said as if stating the obvious. 

“They’re gonna continue with the small talk you know.” You poked. 

“I know, but you’ll be at the table too.” He rebutted. 

You let out an exasperated sigh. He was going to expertly redirect the conversation towards you, just like how he always did back then. You really just can’t win today. You plopped your tired body onto your old bed, the stack of pillows and plushies shifting out of their positions. 

All you’ve done today was sit and talk, yet you felt more exhausted than if you had ran up all 10 stories of your apartment building. You couldn’t wait to go home.

Alhaitham’s teal eyes trailed up your spread form, then around your childhood room. Your room was like a time capsule, with the same wooden desk in the corner, the same unnecessary amount of pillows, and the same scent that was so wholly you. Maybe it was the nostalgia of being in the room the two of you spent so much time in, same open-door rule, his mind began to run through some memories. 

All the times you would lay in your bed with shorts that barely covered your ass. 

All the times you would press your body against his as he help you with assignments at the desk. 

All the times you would run your fingers through his hair and coo ‘smart boy’ after taking your finished homework from his hands. 

All the times the scent of you would linger on his clothes as he pressed the fabric against his nose on particularly desperate nights.

His jaw clenched as murky desire began to bubble up inside of him.

Alhaitham thought after the night when you both proclaimed your feelings to each other, that creature lurking over his shoulder would subside. A miscalculation on his part. 

The boiling pot of emotions, he had been continuously lifting the lid off to relieve the pressure throughout the last two months, only continued to boil over faster. 

The creature only got hungrier, he only got greedier. It wanted to claim you as fully his from the inside out, down to every fiber of your being. Two days out of the week was not enough, it needs more.

Frankly, he thought it was unfair how your essence would taint the rationality of his mind. Isn’t it only fair that he settled the score? To give you a taste of the insanity you put him through. 

Quickly taking note of the bustling noises of your parents in the kitchen, preoccupied with the task of supper. The kitchen radio plays old pop songs from the time of your parent’s youth. These details only encouraged him to put his plan into action. 

“Hey Haitham, before we leave did you want to check on your grandma’s property?” Your eyes focused on the ceiling. 

No response was heard from your ashen-haired lover, as his slow steps closed the distance between your bodies.

“Haitham?-”

Like a falcon swooping down to grasp an unsuspecting hare into its sharp talons, his body pinned yours against the plush bed, lips sealed against yours. The pure shock of it all made you react with a gasp. Never one to miss a window of opportunity, his tongue snaked its way into your mouth. His woodsy scent invades your senses. It’s only been two months since it began, yet your body responded so perfectly, Pavlov could’ve used your reaction to test his theory instead of those dogs.* 

Your skin heated up against his, legs shifting to encase his body against yours, muscles going limp under his control. If you were this weak after a simple kiss, Alhaitham needs to take extra precautions to ensure no other person could ever see you like this. The dark glint of lust was evident in his eyes as his hand trailed under your chiffon skirt. 

He didn’t have the chance to tell you today, but your choice of a light sweater and long flowy skirt was absolutely endearing. So sweet and innocent, and under him, such easy access to be devoured. To emphasize just how vulnerable you were, his long fingers traced all the way up to outline your folds. Feeling how your cunt twitched in response to his touches over the fabric of your panties. Your mouth was desperately trying to break away, lungs burning with the desire for oxygen. 

“Ah- H-haitham?” You whispered out, startled by this uncharacteristic outburst from your lover. 

A thread of saliva connected your two lips, as your flushed face looked up at him. His face was stony as ever if it weren’t for that smirk in his eyes. It signaled that he was perfectly aware that his fingers were now pushing your panties aside. Middle finger sliding up and down your slit, purposefully bumping into a certain bundle of nerves towards the top. 

“W-wait, here? Haitham, my parents-” You stifled a moan when his finger flicked your button. 

“We’re not in their presence at the moment.” He retorted quietly, pressing sweet little kisses against your neck. 

“Still!” You harshly whispered. 

His finger pressed against your opening, and instinctively your cunt clenched, only to close onto nothing. A slickness began to develop along your slit. It’s been five long days since the last time your poor cunt was given any attention. 

“Your body sure is honest.” He tutted. 

In your feeble attempt to shift out of his grasp, your cunt only pressed more into his hands, which only served to weaken your resolve. He brought his lips closer to your ear, his deep voice sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine. 

“If you really don’t want this, then push against my shoulders. Come now, make up your mind.” This said all the while he rubbed slow circles into your clit. 

You could hear the faint clattering of pots and pans coming from downstairs along with the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You had put on such a big show in front of your lover about the rules, and yet here you were so needy after him. You hated how greedy your body had become for him, nerves kicking into overdrive and skin prickling as his hot breath brushed against it. 

You turned your head to the side, ashamed of how quickly your resolve had crumbled. 

“Good girl. Open your mouth.” He cooed, bringing two fingers up to your lips. 

Your pouty gaze met his as you granted his fingers access, they fluttered along your tongue. Gathering your spit as they did before he pulled them back out. 

“I want to test my efficiency.” He lazily observed his glistening fingers. 

Oh, the desire in the pit of your stomach leaped at his words. As his hands pulled your body towards the edge of the cramped bed. Effortlessly flipping you over so that your plush ass was now facing him, your face pressed against the sheets. 

“Try to be quiet.” He pushed the fabric of your skirt over your ass, revealing your soft mint panties. ‘So you were expecting something.’

Angling your hips up as he knelt at the side of your bed, your cunt was now fully on display for him. The greedy thing twitching with anticipation each time his cool exhales hit its hot skin. In one fluid motion, his wet tongue swiped up along your folds as his thumbs spread them apart. Quickly you bite into the sheets, praying that it would silence your voice. With practiced precision, his tongue instantly attacked your aching bud, stroking it, rolling it, and flicking it with his wet muscle. 

Your hips would’ve been bucking wildly if it weren’t for the firm hold Alhaitham had on them. Your slick was now spilling out onto his awaiting tongue mingling together with his spit as they began to drip down his chin. His tongue continued to assault your swollen bud as your teeth ground against the sheets, fighting to keep down your moans. 

All the while your parents remained blissfully unaware of the beast they’d let into their home that was currently doing unspeakable things to their daughter. 

You felt your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head as you felt that familiar white heat approaching, tension so close to snapping. It would only take 1-2-3 more flicks of his- It all stopped. A whine almost ripped through your throat at the sudden loss of his tongue as he pulled away. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood back to his full towering height. The pressure in his pants screams to be relieved. Who was he to deny himself such simple pleasures? Swiftly undoing his belt and pushing down his boxers, the raging length eager to bury its thick girth into your willing walls. 

You couldn’t help but wiggle your hips a bit, egging him on to give you what you’ve been craving more than any food. The glaze of his tip against your twitching hole was the only warning you got before his hips snapped against yours. The momentum so great it caused the sheets to slip out from your teeth, a loud moan on the cusp of escaping if it weren’t for Alhaitham’s hand swiftly grasping your mouth. 

Your walls welcomed the familiar stretch, clenching and releasing as if they were placing wet kisses along his length. He wasted no time in beginning his brutal pace against your hips, each thrust rocking both your body and the poor bed. Your brain was too preoccupied with pleasure to even worry about the creaking, drool beginning to collect in his hand. 

He already knew where all your weak spots were. And he knew exactly which angle his hips needed to be in order to hit them in the way that made your eyes go to the back of your pretty little head. So that’s what he did. As he felt your slippery walls clamp down tighter with each intentional thrust. Tears of ecstasy were rolling down his hand from your eyes, firm grasp vibrating with every blocked moan that clawed against it. 

Those dark thoughts danced along the edge of his mind again as he criticized his past self for being so foolish. If he had known you were this weak to pleasure, then he would have done this ages ago. He would have taken you against that desk in your little short shorts, making a mess of the papers. He could have made it so much more efficient. 

Alas, the past is the past with no bearing on the present. And right now he was absolutely wrecking you against your old bed. He had taken a winding path, but it still lead to the same place in the end. 

Your walls suddenly became impossibly tight as the convulsions of your orgasm shot through your body, eyes disappearing to the back of your head. Alhaitham had to bite back a moan as he felt your pulsing walls try to milk him. As much as he would have loved to spill everything inside of you, right now was not the right time. 

Perhaps in the future, you will beg over and over again for him to fill you with the essence of him. 

Quickly pulling out, his hand letting go of your hip to give his length the last few strokes to the finish line. Cumming along the curve of your ass, watching as the thick liquid stuck to your skin. Your cunt was still shaking as you slowly descend down from cloud nine. 

He felt confident enough to release your mouth from his hand. Your ears filled with the sound of your pants overlapping each other until-

“Dinner is ready!” 

Your body froze as you turned to face your lover with wide eyes, only to be greeted by the sight of his impassive face. As if he had already predicted this was going to happen at this very moment. 

Ah… The bastard timed this out, didn’t he? 

Swiftly Alhaitham took some tissues from the desk to wipe both you and himself down. Pulling your panties back into place you fussed over your skirt and hair in the mirror, trying to make yourself look as presentable as possible. While Alhaitham tucked himself back into his slacks, buckling up his belt again. 

On your way down the stairs, your mother raised an eyebrow at your trembling legs as your frame followed behind your lover. 

“What happened?”

“Um, I stubbed my toe against the desk again.”

“Ah, you hopeless child.” She tsked. 

--

After the food was cleared out, plates cleaned, and lacquered table swiped down, your parents quickly suggested that the two of you stay for the night. 

This time Alhaitham firmly turned down the invitation, he must have reached his conversational limit for the month.

Waving goodbye to your parents from the passenger seat as they stood under the porch light, a great stress was finally lifted from your shoulders. You were finally released from the torment of the gods. 

Looking over at the man driving beside you, you observed how his eyes also seemed more relaxed. Hands holding the steering wheel in a loose grip as he drove just a bit above the speed limit. 

“Finally had enough?” You taunted. 

“My ears are still ringing.” 

Freshly showered and tucked under the soft covers of your own bed, finally away from the prying eyes of the world. It was only you and him now in the little world of your own called your apartment. Even with the thin walls and sometimes broken water heater, it was a safe haven neither of you would ever trade up. 

The rhythm of your matching breaths provided the room with ambiance, his hand toying around with your left ring finger. A box was currently hidden in a drawer at his home. The jewels once dawned by his grandparents, then his parents, now one day the box his grandmother had left him will have the honor to meet you. 

Meanwhile, your thoughts were consumed by the echoing of your mother’s words back in the living room. It would have been so much easier if it was just a dramatic outburst, but the semblance of truth in her words gripped your mind. If you hoped for a peaceful night of rest, then you needed answers from the source currently cradling your hand.

“Do you feel that my mom’s words from earlier are true? You… you have already given me sixteen years, yet I asked for more time… am I being greedy?” Your other hand hesitantly traced the veins that ran along the back of his hand. 

A silence fell over the two of you as if the winds of Dragonspine had just touched time and froze it. 

But his chest was still rhythmically raising and falling, your heart still drumming in your ears. With every beat passing, you feel the icy hands of doubt creep up your back, they were choking you, making you feel a sting in your eyes. 

‘I am wasting his time.’

The shifting of his large frame snapped time back into place as he tenderly pressed his forehead against yours as if to ground you from your running thoughts. Pulling away slightly for his teal eyes to hold your gaze. In a gentle whisper, his deep voice resonated in your ears.

“It doesn’t matter. For I’ve already decided that in exchange for the rest of your life, I will devote the rest of mine. So, whether it be three, five, or ten years it matters not to me. In comparison to a lifetime, those numbers are insignificant. ”

His hand continued to caress your ring finger.   

“I am a lot more patient than you think.”

In the span of your entire existence together you had always been the one with the most words, the first to break the warm silence, and the first to jest. 

Yet, in sporadic moments there are times when Alhaitham would string together words from his vast vocabulary that would leave you speechless. This was one of those moments. 

When words cannot be used then action must come in. With wet drops collecting in the corner of your eyes you pulled Alhaitham’s lips into a chaste kiss, so soft yet so full of love. Arms interweaving to bring your two bodies into one whole, warm being. 

“Although, for the sake of your ideal wedding. You might want to have it happen when my body is still fit enough to carry you down the aisle. Of course, I’ll maintain this form for the foreseeable future.” He whispered next to your ear.

“Oh hush, since when did you start cracking jokes, Haitham?” You were smiling as warmth dripped down your cheeks. 

Let your mother nag until her voice fades. Let the years slip through your fingertips. Let the economy go to absolute waste. Those future worries be damned. 

All that mattered right now, in this singular instance, was that you were in his arms and him in yours. 

--

Fin~

Author note: * this refers to classical conditioning, I’m going to be a nerd now in my writings. 

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

[bigfatbimbo]

It's been 84 years whoops I live. Someone said something at you about Vox railing them and listen, listen my beloved that is not an indication of dominance for him past the first minute of fucking. He thinks he's hot shit and demands to stay on top this time like he's got something to prove (he does) but within minutes his thrusts are so sloppy and uneven because he can't keep himself under control. He's collapsed forward and clinging to you like a lifeline while his hips just keep jolting forward without his say so. All his bravado from the start has devolved into humiliated whining that it feels so good, too good, begging you to please please please keep taking him he can't stop please mommy he needs to cum in you so bad. Any attempts he makes to collect himself just lead to him whining even louder when he can't. Anyway thats my essay on subtop vox technically doing the railing while also falling apart and begging the entire time thank u for ur consideration.

-MG

18+ minors dni

MG!!! Great to have you back brother, always leaving good shit in my inbox, dear lord. I don’t think I talk about subtop Vox on this blog enough because like it’s just so… Vox.

If you’re a naturally dominate partner then he would absolutely insist on topping or domming at least, like, five+ times. And most of that time, they would have the same result. Because Vox talks a big game, but in action it’s almost embarrassing how fast he unravels.

He would be so cocky at first, talking to you in that condescending manner, “Aw, is poor y/n upset they’re not in control for once—“ que sinister snickering “—Oh doll, you’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

You know what, he’s actually doing okay the first few thrusts, that is, until he’s not. And you two are only a few minutes in too, what a shame. It’s true, maybe you weren’t humoring him as much as he’d like you to be, but his frustration is almost an afterthought when compared to how tight you feel around him, how mind numbing the pleasure was.

But that can’t be right, Vox needed to do this right. If there’s one thing he was, he was competent, right? But you don’t even have to make a comment on the situation, although you’ve absolutely noticed, for him to start having to bite back whines.

“Fuck—zzh,” He’d curse before he sinks down, only propping himself up by an elbow as his body shudders above yours.

“Do you need any help, baby?” Your comment is sweet, too sweet. He can’t tell if it was meant to condescend him or not and, frankly, given the way your allowing him to hump into you like dog, he finds himself not caring as much as he should.

Instead he just grunts, before letting out a short staticky whine, and rutting into you more before stopping short, body shivering, muttering curse words under his breath.

At that point, it would only take a “It’s okay, sweetheart. You tried!” For him to fully collapse onto you. His bravado has been completely diminished, and the worst part is even Vox knows that there was virtually no way of winning back dominance. Not after that embarrassing display.

“Bit off more than you could chew?” Well, that was clearly condescending on your part this time.

“No that’s not—zzh, I— fuck—“ He whines, clinging onto your sides as his hips jolt into you, chasing the pleasure in his dick subconsciously, “I can’t stop, fuck, mommy please— ah shzzz, cant stop!”

Even with his full body weight on you, he doesn’t slow down or soften up, instead fully using you as a lifeline while he fucks into you with growing humiliation. His battle has officially been lost, as it is most times with you. There’s no point when you can see through his facade, so he gives in with his tail between his legs.

He’d practically beg you to let him come inside you, because hasn’t he tried so hard? “Mommy, please, please, I need it inside— Can’t—“ He has trouble articulating these words between static and buffering. When you finally tell him he’s allowed, you resist praising him too much, aka: calling him a good boy because, I mean, he did fail at the one thing he promised he would do.

But you still park him on the shoulder and reassure him it was okay because, after all, he looks cuter when he’s all fucked out, anyways.

[speirslore]

band of brothers officers: dating hcs

a/n: hello! this is my first post but ive been lurking in the bob fandom for a while & i'm soooo excited to finally join... i have a bunch of other ideas and drafts i want to post soon :) this includes the officers: winters, nixon, speirs, lipton, + buck, please lmk if anyone would be interested in more of the boys! i made it vague but the reader is implied to be a part of easy company in some capacity

[dick winters]

he is a very private person and shy... like his ears go bright red at the mere mention of your name which easy company takes full advantage of

you think it's incredibly sweet

it takes a while for him to have confidence when interacting with you in the beginning... he feels inexperienced and that you couldn’t possibly be interested in him

it's a slow burn for sureee

like men getting out of the hospital that come back to the company are immediately like "so are they finally together??"

there are bets on when and where it will finally happen

luz's theory is one of you has to confess when you all jump into berlin at the end of the war... the perfect hollywood ending

it ofc doesn't happen like that; it's a slow process of building trust, it's a mix of quality time and acts of service

the quality time can be hard to come by during the war but dick is determined to check in with you: small, reassuring smiles and touches, finding each other in crowded rooms

it's very private, he doesn't want to jeopardize either of your careers or reputations, but ofc lew knows the details (but the entire company basically knows?)

and lew is good at keeping secrets.. he's the intelligence officer ofc (as he constantly reminds the two of you)

a lot of wrapping his arms around you pulling your back to his chest, resting his chin on your head or shoulder

maybe even a quick smooch

kisses as rewards for him finishing all the action reports he has to do

omg then in austria... things definitely change... and it's easier to label what you have.. dick can finally relax (to some extent), and it starts to feel like more of a normal relationship

all the men are so happy for you like he's had 20+ wingmen this entire time <3

[lewis nixon]

another one that i think is definitely slow burn... but once he finds out he's getting divorced...

even before that, lew's humor always made you feel more comfortable and at ease

he has always gravitated towards you

definitely gets clingy

lovessss sleeping with you like insists that sleep is extremely important for a solider and he sleeps sooo well with you

it's literally impossible to escape his arms when you're sleeping... leg thrown over you, arms wrapped around you

the most comfortable you've ever been fr

the ungodly amount of sexual tension before you get together... oh god.. one time the officers are all playing poker; welsh and lipton just look at each other when lew's leg kicks yours under the table or you lean against his shoulder

like oh god... not again... they're telepathically planning their escape

all the tension, stares, touches, long talks you've had reach a boiling point as lew becomes more jaded by the war and he finds out abt the divorce

you instinctively want to take care of him and you're definitely worried about him... you have a lot of convos with dick trying to figure out the best way to approach and help lew

words of affirmation are very important to him... i think his initial instinct is gift giving but that's difficult with the war.. and he doesn't feel connected to that, it's just what he's always known

if he gets too drunk, you stay up monitoring him and you really don't mind and just knowing you're there for him makes him v emotional:

like you make him feel like there's hope and a future after the war... and he's been thinking that for a long time but finally says it laying on your chest with your hand running through his hair

you help him shave which eventually ends in making out (a lot of things you guys do devolve into that)

he's your poor little meow meow but in the best possible way

[ron speirs]

ngl the attraction was strong from the start and it didn't take long for you to fall for him... by england before your first drop you both already fell hard

everyone is in disbelief that the rumor is it's YOU that he's seeing

everyone thinks you're a total angel and then... speirs.. it's just tht absolutely none of the men can imagine him being soft or romantic

wants you all to himself... is very good about making free time to be with you

unintentionally hovers

and very subconsciously touchy

has to fight himself from grabbing your hand instinctively

like he can know where your platoon is, where you're dug in but still will make rounds just to have peace of mind and know you're okay

just like all the other rumors, ron doesn't really care about clarifying his relationship with you

oh but if he ever heard a man talking disparagingly about you... just one silent stare and the soldier wouldn't even look at you again

omg def the type to carry around a collection pictures.... those are his prized possessions fr

like a pocket in his uniform just full of very pretty (and private) pictures <3

there's a few wholesome ones too.. like when the two of you had a 48 hour pass to scotland... but others (most of them) not so much

and ofc if you ever need anything... like you need a new watch? he has one for you in a few hours

he truly does love gift giving...

i also think physical touch is a huge love language for him

+ i think like pillow talk, just late night talking with you letting him rant and get everything off of his mind is so cathartic for him

and he really appreciates feeling like you understand him and you want and are willing to listen

[carwood lipton]

definitely the wholesome mom and dad couple

usually, most definitely, attached at the hip

always has a hand on the small of your back, or shoulder, arm, etc, he likes the reassurance of small touches and knowing definitively that you're next to him

i have a very self indulgent headcanon that he likes whenever you kiss and thumb over the scar on his cheek <3 makes him feel less self conscious

okay so lip takes care of everyone else but who's taking care of him?!

guys will come to you bc they know carwood will listen to you if you're the one who tells him he has to rest and take it easy

omg.. and if you're married... he's always twisting and playing with his ring just to remind him of you

has multiple letters from you stuffed in one of his uniform's pocket

he has all of the words memorized by now but just physically holding them is so comforting

quality time and acts of service are HUGE for him

and alone time can be so hard to come by... but anything he can do to make your job and tasks easier... he will do

and vice versa ofc

everyone else watching like wow .. relationship goals fr

anytime he leaves and you're split up for a few days... you always have a dramatic reunion jumping into his arms

a lot of fantasizing about your future together... because it feels so close.. but also so far away

[buck compton]

fraternization rules?? what rules?

has absolutely no shame to be at the bar playing darts, hands all over your waist

and showing you off, dancinggg

just feeling a little silly and goofy... making out at the bar

and everyone is hyping you up

i think at the beginning of the war, your relationship is newer and fun... neither of you are really thinking about something serious

i think physical touch and words of affirmation are huge for him

as the war progresses, the thought and fear of losing you grows, especially after he saw so many of his men suffer/die

and he realizes how much he cares about you...

you comfort him after bastogne... a lot and even though it can be extremely melancholy, hearing you talking about your life pre war, and your life together in the future keeps him going

insisting to him that he'll have to show you california and ucla

writing to him constantly after he's taken off the line.. giving him updates on all the men

in austria, when he returns, watching him play baseball with the boys feels absolutely perfect

[foldingfittedsheets]

In DnD our DM tends to find fantasy artwork and base characters around it. One of these was a topless fire genasi (?? Probably? There’s a shrieking crow and it’s more like bad CG but like, it’s fine). He used it as the image for a cult leader. She follows a figure called Amernaph.

We started joking around about how she was too hot for clothes and how she was just a tits out kinda gal. Soon this devolved into silliness and I said the phrase, “She’s tits out for Amernaph!”

It became an inside joke that has persisted for years and is now tragically part of my humor but literally no one outside our group would ever get it. I have to edit it out of talking to people.

Today I thought that a post I saw was tits out for Amernaph, but no one can ever appreciate what that means.

[nomorefstogive]

Here is another idea. Imagine if we could get to roast the archons. Like a once in a lifetime event, The archon's roast. We get each archon on a panel and we get someone close to them. Even the archons get to roast each other.

Oh hell this is beautiful, I can already picture this happening, maybe courtesy of the Traveler or someone else having pulled them all into the Serenetea pot, one thing leads to another over drinks and soon the roasts start to fly.

From everyone ganging up on Venti about his drinking habits, to them turning on Zhongli over his inability to manage his own finances, to Ei's inability to handle change, to Nahida being too gentle with her people, to Furina's penchant for treating everything like a performance.

Eventually it all just devolves into a constant back and forth that has been spear headed by the likes of Dvalin (Best I could think of for Venti outside of Diluc or Barbara), Xianyun, Miko, Alhaithem or Nihlou, and Clorinde or Neuvilette.

And as this chaos is going on, the Traveler is leaning back in their chair, their face in their hands as they try and suppress a mixture of humor and embarrassment at the scene before them.

What would make it more chaotic is if it occurred during a celebration that includes more than just the aforementioned individuals, with the majority of the Traveler's comrades all being present, each one chiming in their own complaints and roasts, with the Archons retaliating in kind.

"I may be drunk, but at least I don't work till I collapse and have to be dragged away."

"I readily admit that I have issues with my own finances, but at least I am not constantly lying to my family regarding my profession."

"Change is not something that comes naturally to me, I admit. But at least I don't shed fur everywhere when the season changes, or worship a long dead God."

"Gentle I may be, but at least I can express myself openly, and not loose myself to my work. I also don't have a complex regarding my creator, nor have I attempted to be what I am not."

"Oh. You really want to go there? Well at least I didn't kill my friends father in front of her, or loose control over my own element and have to rely on a mere 'usurper' to get it back."

More and more the situation devolves as chaos reigns amidst the roasts and yells, all while Paimon joins the Traveler in hiding her face in her hands.

In a sagau setting, this could occur as a result of a combination of everyone being a little tipsy and a careless word, with the reader simply watching as the chaos breaks out around them, not needing to say a word as all hell breaks loose around them.

At least that is what comes to my mind at the moment, sorry if it is not what you had in mind.

[whostolemypuddingcup]

Hehehehhehe long nadine heheheheheheh

[faelapis]

if anyone’s wondering what i mean by “tangled marketing” in relation to wish (2023): despite tangled mostly being a very sincere, straightforward fairytale with some jokes, the marketing was ALL jokes. the teaser was this weird scene where rapunzel beats eugene up with her hair in a variety of comedic ways. it does not appear in the final movie.

there’s a great lindsay ellis video on how disney saw the mediocre results of their last few 2d animated movies in the 2000s and had a drastic idea. next to a switch to 3d (that had worked great for dreamworks), the idea was also to change the marketing to be more like dreamworks. sadly, that video appears to have been deleted. so i’ll paraphrase: basically there’s more eyebrow wiggle, more “oh, i’m sooo naughty!” humor, more focus on how this is a movie with “jokes for adults” in it, etc. basically, the idea is to be more irreverent, and that will (in their minds) appeal to modern audiences than a sincere, unironic fairytale.

and it totally worked. tangled made a million buckets of money. then frozen (similarly marketed with a heavy focus on olaf and sven the reindeer) came along, and has basically been a constant money printer the last decade.

…here’s the thing, though. i kinda thought we were over this? the last few disney movies have not been marketed like this. even frozen 2 did not have this kind of marketing. it was much more openly “serious.” remember that teaser of elsa fighting the waves? the marketing was focused on the “drama/adventure” aspect, and this was reflected in the full trailer.

and frozen 2 made even more money than frozen! so you’d think this was done. there’s been a real cringe counterreaction to over-the-top “eyebrow wiggle” humor like this, as well as to annoying disney sidekicks. disney seemed aware of this, as they slowly cut out the “shrek lite” marketing.

…yet here we are. in 2023. after basically no hype for wish, disney is kinda pushing the dreamworks panic button. or trying to split the difference. cuz it’s basically a bait-and-switch trailer that devolves in real time, starting serious then descending into full-on eyebrow wiggle. desperately trying to convince audiences (and themselves) that this will always work. that they can always have a character be like “i found it with my butt! 🤪 ” and it will mean success.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 2 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

author's note: I decided to make a pt. 2 purely for my own enjoyment, though I hope there are others out there as sadistic as myself. I finally watched the Batman trilogy and did research on DC fan pages to write this. It follows the plot of Nolan's DC adaptation so all characters mentioned (like Ra's Al Ghul) are from the comics and movies.

Summary| She gave into Crane because she needed to survive, at least that's what she's tried to tell herself, but there was something about this man that just felt so painfully... right. Now Crane has a proposition and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer because he's starting to like her -- uh oh-- too much. Where will their new agreement lead them when Gotham devolves into chaos?

Warnings| Based on an DC action movie- drugging, slut shaming, fear and terror, dubious kidnapping, restraints, drugs, physical violence, spitting, toxic relationship, mentions of a gun, chaos, and needles. I know- it's a lot.

word count: 8596k (lol oopsies?)

Wires- The Neighborhood 🎶

Where did you sleep last night- Iridium, Salazar, Liam Marks 🎵

Caesar on a TV Screen- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

i 

The detective nodded her head, surprised that she’d so easily forgotten her plan. Dr. Crane sniffed and spun his set of keys around his finger casually. 

“Now the best thing about being the creator of my fear serum,” he started, moving to the shelf of vials he had previously sorted, “is that I have an endless supply and every opportunity to use it whenever I want.” She could hear him smile but she could no longer see him. Crane admittedly liked the girl and he’d fucked her as a minor pivot in his original plan for the night. Now, it was time for business. He pulled a dish of powder from a locked drawer and hid it away from sight as he crossed back into the girl’s view. “You may think you understand what my serum can do, but you’ll never truly know until you try it.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wishing that she could back away from him but she couldn’t move. He changed the subject swiftly, not giving her a moment. 

“I applaud you for your performance tonight. I was more than willing to humor you and of course, your present state did you many favors. I like my women tied down…” he joked and chuckled darkly. “But now, we need to get practical.” He removed his glasses and folded them slowly. He slipped them into his breast pocket. “You know too much, Miss —, and we both know that your current allegiance to your job would prioritize a crude sense of justice over your affection for me. We can’t have that, can we? So, I’d like to propose a solution or a treatment of sorts.” He clenched his jaw, angling his head down so that he was looking up at her through his eyelashes. “You’ve already proven to yourself tonight that the mind has complete control over the body. Desire rules judgment… and I want to rule you.” He smiled darkly. Before she could speak, powder was thrown into her face, blocking every orifice with a sickening gas. 

The anxiety was immediate. She saw strange creatures approach her from all sides, poking and prodding her with dirty nails. She saw the walls leak a disgusting fluid, like blood and fecal matter and it spilled over the floor. People sorted through the liquid for scraps, children screamed and cried around her. She’d been one of those children, raised in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Strange men swarmed the children, offering toxic treats and money for favors which the children shied away from. She screamed, pulling at her restraints as she tried to fight off the assailants. She shook her head violently side to side, and she screamed involuntarily with raw terror at what she saw. In the midst of a nightmare of Gotham’s poverty and dark underbelly, Dr. Jonathan Crane stood calmly before her. He watched her, his arms crossed against his chest. He cocked his head to the side. 

“What do you see,” he asked calmly. She turned her attention to him like he was a beacon of light in a horrible storm. 

“Jonathan, help me!” She cried. 

“Tell me what you see,” he said again and clucked his tongue to calm her. She looked around again at the people she saw, rummaging through mountains of trash. 

“Horrible… horrible poverty. The things… the things I saw as a child. People starving, children crying…” she whimpered. Rats scrambled across her body and she screamed again, shaking against the table. “Jonathan, please!” She called for him and he waded towards her, oblivious to the horror around him. He stood above her and stroked her face. He removed the restraints from her waist and her wrists and helped her sit up. The things she saw darted out of her peripheral vision, distorted now and hard to understand. She couldn’t run because she couldn’t tell where she was anymore, where her body was in relation to her perspective. Did she even still have a body?

Dr. Crane grunted as he helped her off the table and held her up beside him. She fainted in his arms and he carried her out of the secondary lab into the corridor. He punched the elevator’s call button with his free hand and dragged her inside. As the large steel doors closed, he fished for his cellphone in his pocket and called his driver, telling him to meet him outside the hospital immediately. Crane hushed her, gently patting her head though she was still unconscious. The elevator dropped them at the floor she’d entered on originally and Crane carried her to the side door, ignoring the looks the night attendants gave the strange couple. A sleek black car waited outside in the alley, the engine running and dispelling smoky exhaust into the air around them. Crane opened the car door and helped her inside, smirking at the security guard at the door. 

“Our meeting was successful, thank you officer.” He waved goodnight to the security guard who shifted awkwardly in his seat at the side door. Climbing in after her, Crane leaned over the console to speak with his driver. 

“My apartment, please.” He gave the order sternly, even with the addition of the ‘please,’ and the driver nodded, speeding off into Gotham’s dark streets. His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he watched her. She started to come to in the backseat, though the effects of the drug had still not worn off. Her breath was fast and she leaned deliriously into Crane’s shoulder, seeking protection from what she saw outside the tinted windows. She was so afraid that she felt safer in the arms of the man that had drugged her, and it would take hours to realize that, but by the time she did, the psychological effects would have already taken root. 

ii 

The car stopped outside of a dark apartment building in one of the only nice parts of town in Gotham city. It was raining as he helped her back out of the car and into the large lobby of his apartment building. She clung to his arm as he led her into an elevator, playing a soft melody that sounded like shrill screams to her intoxicated mind. As the elevator doors opened, effects of the drug began to wane though her heartbeat was still racing. She looked up at Crane’s sharp jaw and how he clenched it as he opened the door to his apartment and pushed her gently inside. 

“I pay my people extra to turn a blind eye to everything that I do. I understand these circumstances appear even more nefarious, being that I have admittedly drugged you and brought you to my apartment. What can I say, I’m a bad feminist.” He smiled darkly and locked the door. 

“When do I stop seeing… these things?” She collapsed into a chair behind her and cradled her head in her hands. 

“The effects will be gone in an hour,” he responded coolly and switched on some of the lights in his modern apartment. The apartment was two stories with a spiral staircase and an elevator that led to the upstairs. She looked around, trying her best to ignore the hallucinations and study the actual apartment itself. 

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have a lab here, it’s against the building’s codes. I spend very little time here actually, I’m always at Arkham or dealing with detectives… like you. I’m a busy man. Like I already told you, I have plans to ‘treat’ Falcone tomorrow so I’ll need that room free. This is the next best option and I think you’ll find it more comfortable in comparison.” He smirked and flicked a switch, immediately two restraints looped tightly around her wrists, emerging from a panel in the arms of the chair that she hadn’t noticed. Second restraints looped around her ankles, reminding her as her ankles were spread apart that he had removed her underwear. She turned her knees inward, hiding her crotch and scoffing with frustration. 

“Again?” She groaned and pulled at the strong leather material holding her to the chair. 

“You sound disappointed,” Crane observed with a small smirk. “It’s only temporary. I didn’t get a chance to question you back at the lab, so we’ll do that here.” He gestured to his empty apartment and started to walk toward her slowly. His lips curled cruelly as he looked her up and down, strapped to the chair. “So tell me, what do you know?” He whispered and she stopped struggling for a moment. She still felt jumpy and nervous but having him so close relieved some of those feelings. The effects of the drug wore off more but the underlying sense of anxiety and loss of control prompted her to answer honestly.

I know that you are trying to make a powerful drug that mimics fear and so far, you’ve put it in a powder form. It works when ingested in some ways and immediately elicits a response that incapacitates the victim. You want to use it widely, to control Gotham…”

“Right, what else.” He leaned on the arms of the chair, his hands grasped around her wrists. 

“You don’t work for Falcone but you work with someone else. You’ve just been using Falcone’s drug operation to move your own prototypes of the fear serum. You want to be in charge and you know that fear can do whatever you want it to. The mind controls the body,” she recalled a sentence that he had used before he had thrown the powder in her face. “You’re also somehow connected to the missing micro-wave emmitter. I don’t know why but it may help you in some way, how?” She was breathing heavily like she was going to fall asleep. 

“Good work, detective.” 

“What are you using the micro-wave emitter for?” She asked. He chuckled and removed his hands from her wrists, backing up. He approached a small liquor cart and poured himself a drink, straight gin. She continued as he drank. 

“Who are you working with and how do you expect to control Gotham when everyone loses their minds?” She could barely contain her voice, anger and confusion rose into her throat like bile. 

“So many questions…” he swallowed and set down his glass, turning back to her slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out for yourself?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“The mirco-wave emitter would dry out any water supply that it comes into contact with. Wouldn’t it be easier to poison the water supply, you would reach more people… unless it doesn’t have the same effect when administered in water.” She looked up at him but his face was hard. “That’s why you’ve been using it in a powder, it only works in a powder form. If you dry up the water supply and release the powder into the air, there isn’t a way to combat the effects, is there?” 

Crane smiled and nodded slowly, “right again.” 

“How can you control people who have lost their minds on the serum? You can’t control chaos.” She furrowed her brow and leaned forward, questioning him. Crane cocked his head and studied her for a moment, noticing the last traces of the fear serum leaving her body. 

“Control has many forms, Y/N. The chaos that will come from my serum is planned, its existence is strategically executed.”

“But why are you doing this?” 

“I love it when you get flustered,” he chuckled darkly at her and licked his lips, his eyes rolling before returning to her face. “It’s not just me, I work for a large organization that has been responsible for all historical catastrophes throughout history. We deal in balance, balanced chaos. They hired me because I can control fear, I know how to use it and weaponize it. Gotham needs to be balanced and it cannot be balanced without it first destroying itself. Create a closed environment with the population’s problems and confront them with chaos, the balance will soon be restored.” 

“Who do you work for?” She whispered, her eyes wide. 

“Don’t you mean, who do we work for?” He crouched at her feet and placed his hands on her thighs. He smiled crazily up at her and she leaned away from him. 

“What?” She whispered. 

“I work for the League of Shadows, and now, so do you.” He dug his finger into the soft bottom of her chin and pushed her head up so that she could see the second floor more clearly. 

Standing at the rail were men clad in dark armor. One man stood out from the rest. He wore a black suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. He had long whiskers of gray hair like a mustache and steady cool eyes, deadlier than Crane’s.  

“Good work, Dr. Crane.” The man kept his focus on her and her blood went cold. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss —. We’ve heard so much about you and of course, you’re the one that has caused us so much trouble!” He laughed sarcastically and descended the spiral staircase. 

“Who are you?” She growled. 

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” he smiled and the wrinkles on his face creased, pulling against his eyes. “I see you’ve already become acquainted with Dr. Crane, our very own criminal mastermind.”

“You’re too kind,” Crane smarted back, watching the girl’s face as she tried to take in all of the new information. 

“Now, I have a job proposition to offer you, Miss —. You seem to have figured most of our plan out but I don’t think you understand the complexity of our organization. You see, the League of Shadows is an ancient organization that has balanced the harmony of every major city in the world since the beginning of time. Gotham has gone bad, to the point of no return. Your ‘Batman’ as you call him can’t reverse what has been brewing for years. He never saw what you did, how the people of Gotham live in filth and poverty while the elite few enjoy the spoils. This city needs to be reborn, it needs chaos to restore the balance.”

“But wouldn’t you be killing thousands of innocent people?” She interjected and Al Ghul shrugged slightly. 

“Nobody’s innocent,” he answered quickly and then inhaled, clarifying, “Anyway, that’s not what we want to do here. If we take control of the city and hold it for ransom, we can work out a deal to replace the crooked government with some of our people. I’m offering you a role alongside my people. You’re smart, all that evidence you collected against Crane- none of the senior officers could have held a match to it. We destroyed it of course, as soon as Crane told us about your little visit.” She looked past Al Ghul to Crane who leaned against the wall calmly. Had they destroyed the copies? How could she be sure that they were telling the truth? “The box of evidence you had put aside for Sgt. Gordon was the hardest to find but we found it. What made you suspect Dr. Crane? Was it a gut instinct?” He drew on before she interrupted him. 

“You want me to help you kill people?” She furrowed her brow and nearly laughed in disbelief. 

“We want your help to save Gotham from itself and establish a new and better government.” He corrected, fixing his posture. Crane watched her closely and spoke up from the back of the room. 

“She’ll do it,” he answered and she opened her mouth to interject but his smirk silenced her. “She’ll do it because whether or not she wants to admit it, Miss —, is like us.” Crane reached into his breast pocket and removed his glasses. He cleaned the panels with a dish towel and pushed them onto his nose. She looked between Crane and Al Ghul, her heart beating quickly in her chest. 

“Will you join us, will you help us save Gotham?” Ra’s Al Ghul placed both of his hands on top of his walking stick and shifted his weight evenly between his feet. Crane folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile played on his wide pink lips. Her decision surprised her but the serum had already changed her chemistry, Crane had revealed her true self to herself and there was only one choice left. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Crane nodded, “good girl.” 

iii 

She was released from her restraints and she rubbed her wrists where the leather marked them. Ra’s Al Ghul snapped his fingers and a map was rolled out on Crane’s dining room table. The map was of the entire city of Gotham, showing the sewer and water lines. They explained the plan, showing her where the micro-wave emitter would be placed in the city and how it would be moved through each neighborhood. 

“What about the police?” She asked and gestured to the map of the city. Crane laughed and shook his head. 

“You were the only cop that suspected this, the rest will have no idea until it's already started. The person we really need to worry about is Batman,” he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at Al Ghul, “luckily for him, an old friend is coming by to visit.” Al Ghul nodded and smiled kindly at her. 

“Batman and I go way back. I’ll take care of him.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Crane caught himself staring and cleared his throat. 

“You’ll help me with the production of the powder, ensuring that your cop friends don’t figure out too much and keeping Sgt. Gordon away from Arkham or leading him astray… anything,” Crane answered, setting his face as he spoke. She nodded. 

Though they had asked her to join their efforts, they also obviously didn’t trust her completely. They wouldn’t tell her everything, she knew. Her night had gone in a completely different direction than how she had imagined it. Everything had changed after the fear serum, it had shown her that what she feared most had already happened. The police were corrupt, run by small-time gangsters and criminals and crime continued to run rampant as the state lost more and more money, forcing social service organizations to close and more families out on the streets. This whole time she thought that the police could solve the problem but they only caused it. Crane was right, she was like him and she would do anything she could to change the city. After the meeting, Crane poured her a drink and dissolved a packet of powder into the liquor. He stirred it in front of her and Al Ghul before sliding it across the table’s surface. 

“This will put you to sleep for a few hours, twelve at most. It’s only a precaution to make sure that you have truly promised your allegiance to us. Everything that you say will be monitored from this point on.”

“Everything?” She looked at Crane who clenched his jaw, a faint tease of blush spread on his cheeks.

“Everything. Do as we say and follow our rules and you stay alive,” Crane finished and tapped the rim of the glass. “Now drink.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t just poisoning me?” She asked the men around her.

“We’re learning to trust each other, but you have to go first.” He smiled and when Al Ghul said nothing, she took the glass and drank it slowly. The last thing she saw were Crane’s eyes, set perfectly on her. 

She was conscious enough to set her glass down before falling back onto the couch. Crane approached her quickly and checked her pulse, monitoring her reaction to the drug. 

“Did it work?” Ra’s Al Ghul asked behind him and he nodded. 

“Yes, she’s out. Because of all the drugs in her system already, this one may take longer to wear off.” 

“All the other drugs?” Al Ghul raised his eyebrow and Crane chuckled. 

“I couldn’t help myself and besides,” he turned to Al Ghul, “you wanted her alive.” 

“I’m not convinced that we can trust her,” Al Ghul shook his head and pointed at the map for his men to clean up. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure we can.” 

“With your mind tricks?” Al Ghul teased and Crane sighed, rolling his beautiful eyes. 

“Don’t insult me, Ra’s. I know what I’m doing.” He warned the man calmly and nodded to the men. Two men helped carry her body as Crane led them back down the elevator into the lobby which was deserted at that time in the early morning. They climbed into Crane’s waiting car and pulled away from the curb. The girl’s body was limp against the seat and Crane resisted the urge to stare at her, fascinated by her sleeping body. The men carried her up to her apartment on the third floor of a small walkup. Crane rummaged through her coat pockets for the key into her apartment and unlocked the door. 

Her apartment was small and cozy, furnished with minimal couches and chairs. Books and art decorated the walls. Crane pushed through the door and directed the men to lie her down in her bedroom, the small room off of the main living area. They men looked back at him expectantly as he stood by the doorway, watching her sleep. He rolled his eyes and shooed them away. What did they think he was going to do? He’d already fucked her. Alone in her apartment, he stood by her bed and stroked her cheek. She slept on, engulfed by unconscious darkness. He leaned over her slowly and grasped her throat gently, exhaling across her face. He said nothing but looked her up and down and smirked, pleased at the sight of her. He’d won another spoil: her. 

 She woke up in her bed, twisted in the sheets as if she had been restless all night. She was sweaty and hot, the air stuffy around her. Crane and Al Ghul were nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch and hurried out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before and into black trousers and a dark blue sweater. She stumbled into the living room and wound her hair up into a claw clip, moving towards the door when a voice startled her. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Crane spoke from the couch. He was in a fresh suit and looked well-rested. He was taking notes in a file on Falcone, his briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of him. She jumped, gasping from shock. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” 

“I was waiting for you to wake up. We have work to do today. That bitch at the DA’s office wants to speak with me. I'm supposed to meet with her this afternoon. She’s questioning Falcone’s transfer.”

“I ordered the transfer after you did Falcone’s interview, maybe I could meet with her instead.” 

“No, I need you to take this file to the judge on Falcone’s case. I can handle her questions.” He stood and held out Falcone’s file. “I already gave my statement at the hearing but this file will confirm my medical opinion, hopefully that will get her off my back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you think Falcone will talk if she speaks with him?” 

“Possibly,” he bent his head side to side and shrugged, “but we aren’t going to find out. Let’s go,” he snapped his briefcase closed and made for the front door. She glanced from the couch to her bedroom.

“Were you watching me all night?” She flushed angrily and followed him. He closed the door suddenly and spun her around, forcing her back against the front door. 

“I can only say this once because they aren’t listening now but as soon as we get in the car, they’ll be monitoring you. I am keeping you alive, Miss —. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive but the second you step away from me, you’re on your own. I know we have an understanding so believe me when I say that I would prefer very much if you didn’t die. Follow my directions because they’re following you.” He said in a harsh whisper, a strand of hair falling into his face. They stared at each other in silence, exchanging breath when he kissed her harshly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned softly against his lips. He bucked into her hips and she gasped softly against his jaw. And just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing heavily and led her out the door and down the stairs into the waiting car. 

“I’ll need my gun back,” she pointed out as they settled on the backseat. Crane sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He opened a small compartment in the car door and retrieved her gun. As he held it out, he took her jaw in his other hand, his thumb pressing into her fleshy cheek. 

“This is where that trust would come in handy, detective.” He whispered darkly. She looked at his lips and then up to his eyes, speechless around him. He watched her struggle for words and chuckled, handing her the gun. “Be careful, Y/N, and remember Ra’s plan.” He looked at her lips and sniffed, slapping the roof of the car. “This is her stop.” 

iv 

She met with the judge who oversaw Falcone’s case and gave him the thick folder. He looked at it briefly before recognizing the information. 

“I appreciate you coming out to speak to me about Falcone’s transfer to Arkham but I cleared everything with Ms. Dawes yesterday. She’s already scheduled a second psychiatrist to meet with Falcone first thing tomorrow morning. She mentioned that she’s also requested Dr. Crane’s case file. Has she seen this?” He waved the folder and she clicked her tongue, shocked that she had scheduled a second opinion and that Crane didn’t know about it.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was the detective working with the prosecution and I was the one who oversaw Dr. Crane’s examination and request for transfer. I can attest to Falcone's mood at the time as well. He screamed nonstop as Crane was trying to conduct a test of sanity. Anyway, I wanted to make sure that you saw Dr. Crane’s diagnosis in the aftermath of his transfer. This has updated notes that Dr. Crane shared with me. It might be useful in your deliberation.” She smiled and the judge looked down his nose at the folder. 

“Good point. Thank you, detective. This is helpful.” He opened the folder on his desk and put on his rounded spectacles. 

“Well now that we’ve spoken, I’ll try to catch Dawes and save her the trouble.” She pushed back her chair and brushed off her trousers. 

“Miss —?” The judge called from his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” She looked back.

“Dr. Crane has committed many of Falcone’s men to Arkham in the past few months, is that correct?” 

“Yes,” she nodded and her heart raced. 

“That must be a pretty crazy group.” The judge laughed and went back to the folder, completely missing the pattern. She sighed in relief and left quickly. She started to walk to Arkham, moving so quickly she felt like she may have been running. Dawes had already scheduled a second opinion, meaning that she was probably at Arkham pressuring Crane for his detailed diagnosis. It would take Dawes one second to figure it out so she hoped she could get there quickly enough to do something. She had no plan which she knew was stupid but whatever was bound to happen in the next few hours would be bad and she needed to help Crane. Her phone began to ring and she put it to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Ra’s?”

“Are you on your way to Arkham?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Turn around and go back to your precinct. I want you to stick close to Sgt. Gordon, go where he goes. You’re his top detective so run with it. If anything happens at Arkham, he’ll be there and I want you there with him. Crane will be fine.”

She slowed to a stop, skeptical but wanting to believe what her new boss was telling her, “ok, sir.”

After a second of silence, Ra’s added, “It’s Batman’s birthday and what better way to celebrate a playboy than with chaos?” The call ended before she could respond. 

She spun around and headed straight for the precinct. She spotted Gordon at his desk, working on paperwork. She hurried over and knocked on the door, letting herself in when he waved. 

“Good, I’m glad to see you. I need to run some ideas by you for the Falcone case.” 

“I just dropped off Crane's diagnosis for the judge but he said that Dawes may be seeking a second opinion.” 

“About that -” The intercom went off with a loud screech. 

“Attention all units! Attention all units! Batman was spotted at Arkham Asylum. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup is requested at this time.” The voice repeated with a robotic drone. Sgt. Gordon looked from the speaker to her and grabbed his coat from his chair. 

“We need to get to the asylum right now.” Gordon yelled and she followed him closely, checking that her gun was still secured to her hip. She clipped her badge to her front pocket and pretended to sound confused. 

“Why are we going, Sgt? Do you think this is about Falcone?”

“It might, I’d feel better if I was there to find out; and if Batman is there, someone’s in trouble.” They hurried down the stairs and climbed into a car. Gordon sped away from the precinct and ran red lights. The tires bled across the roads as they came to a screeching halt behind a row of police cars parked outside the Asylum. 

“Why is everyone waiting outside?” She yelled over the noise. An officer standing with his gun aimed at the building yelled back. 

“We’re waiting for backup!”

“They’ll be here soon, sir. We should wait!” She yelled over the noise at the Sgt. 

Gordon looked up at the building and pulled his gun from his holster. He started moving towards the building, looking back to wave her on. 

“I’m going in. You coming?” He called. 

She groaned anxiously beneath her breath before responding, “yes, sir!” They raced up the stairs into the lobby which was left completely vacant. Gordon held up his gun and she followed suit, staying close behind him. She felt the urge to kill him now and find Crane but her gut warned her that someone else was in the room, watching. They walked slowly through the main corridor, past the abandoned security checkpoint, creeping closer to the wide atrium. When they stepped beneath the enormous domed ceiling a loud noise broke through the top of the building. She looked up and covered her face with her forearm to protect her eyes from large shards of falling glass. She saw a large dark blur surround Sgt. Gordon and pull him up to the roof. 

“Sgt. Gordon!” She yelled after him. She knew immediately that the blur was that bastard Batman. A small laugh escaped her mouth as she shook her head and lowered her gun. A group of SWAT ran in seconds later. She pointed at the ceiling with her gun and called them over. 

“He came down and took Sgt. Gordon!”

“Who?” Someone yelled at her and she shook her head, pretending to be unsure. 

“I don’t know! I think it was Batman.” She yelled, adding to their panic. 

“Batman!” Someone shouted and in the moment of distraction, she slipped away into a side corridor. She bolted towards a staircase and stopped at every floor, looking for signs of activity. Her body burned with soreness as she sprinted down each corridor. She wanted to scream his name but her lungs wouldn’t allow her the extra air to do so. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of police. They all started shouting at her until she showed them her badge. 

“I’m a detective- What the hell is going on here?” She yelled. 

“We’re looking for Dr. Crane!”

“Have you seen Sgt. Gordon?” She asked, panting and trying not to panic when they mentioned Crane’s name. “He disappeared and I've been looking for him.”

“No, we haven’t. We got a call that they found drugs in the building and then Batman showed up. Crane was running the operation.” One police officer responded and jerked their head to the side where they were going to run next. “It's down this corridor!”  

“I’ll come with you,” she shouted and led the unit, her gun pointed at the ground. Two large doors were falling off their hinges further down the hallway. The room itself was smokey and gaseous. She looked down from the doorway where there were stairs leading into a cement lined room like an empty indoor pool. Tables were littered with Crane’s fear serum and men that she assumed were dead. Huge vats of liquid marked with a toxic symbol sat on their sides by an open waterline. 

“This is it,” she said to the officer beside her and started to descend the staircase. The smoke made it hard to see so she moved slowly, looking around the floor for Crane’s familiar face. The men she saw were all part of Falcone’s posse who had been hired to help the drug operation run. Something snapped beneath her food and she looked down, seeing Crane’s scarecrow mask which she recognized from his drawing. She picked it up and looked around anxiously, her fingers around the gun shook. Then she saw him. Crane was propped up against a wall and bleeding slightly from the head, a thin trail of blood oozed on the wall behind his head. He was panting and flailing around, his pupils were mere penpoints. He’d been attacked with his own fear powder. She looked around before dropping into a crouch beside him. He recognized her but continued to shake, his eyes darting around her head. 

“Jonathan,” she whispered, “it's me.” 

“Did you find him?” Someone shouted and she yelled back that she had. He raised a judgemental eyebrow, his mouth forming a cuss word. His glasses were gone. 

“Trust me, Crane.” She whispered against his ear and held his wrists together. She took her handcuffs from her belt and handcuffed him. 

v 

She leaned against the wall and tapped her foot anxiously as they strapped him into a white straightjacket. She crossed the room and helped the officer secure the last belt, thankful for any excuse to touch him and remind him that she was still there. Looking up at her, he spat and she flinched slightly. His light eyes were ringed with red swollen skin and she wondered if he really felt betrayed by her. She wiped his spit from her cheek and returned to her place by the wall. 

“So this is the scarecrow,” Sgt. Gordon entered the room and let the door slam shut. Crane jumped from the noise and closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. 

“Scarecrow… scarecrow.” Crane whispered with his eyes closed and shifted within the straightjacket. Sgt. Gordon pulled up a chair, the metal scraping against the floor, bristling Crane into opening his eyes. 

“What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get the toxin into the air?” Gordon asked calmly and fingered the scarecrow mask. Her stomach turned watching Crane struggle to regain control over his mind. He shook and his eyes darted around the room, landing once or twice on her. She kept a straight face, giving no sign that she was terrified that something would happen to him or she would accidentally reveal something about him that they didn’t already know. When Crane didn’t respond, Gordon continued, his voice rising. 

“Who were you working for?” Gordon pressed and Crane’s eyes snapped to his, a crazy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Oh, it’s too late. You can’t stop it now.” He spoke through shivers, cutting up his words. He smiled at the end and Gordon shook his head. He stood and shoved the mask into her hands. 

“Here. Stay with Crane.” He growled and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the heavy steel door. She looked down at the mask in her hands and hid her smile. There was only one officer left in the room with them and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a quick plan. 

“Are there any officers outside?” She asked the cop by the door who peeked his head outside the door. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she smiled and raised her gun when the door snapped behind him. “Then this should be easy.” She cocked the gun and cornered the officer. “Face the wall,” she ordered and when he turned, she hit him over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking him unconscious. She quickly handcuffed him and checked outside one last time before running over to Crane. He was still recovering from the toxin, his face set in a deep frown. She began to free him from his restraints, glancing at the door every few seconds. His eyes stayed on her face and he kept muttering things below his breath. When she undid the last restraint he jumped up and it fell from around his shoulders to the floor. She started to smile when he lunged at her and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Her hair clip cracked against the tile and clattered to the floor in pieces. She gasped beneath his hands, one holding her throat and the other grabbing the slack in her sweater, exposing her navel. 

“You betrayed me,” he growled, “you told Gordon... I saw you.” His eyes were wild and glazed, he looked right through her.

“What?” she gasped out though his hand was crushing her windpipe. 

“I saw you two! You fucked him. You fucked him!” He yelled, his body shook with anger like he was coming down from an adrenaline high. 

“No, I didn’t!” She struggled beneath his hands, “this is the toxin talking, Jonathan! I didn’t betray you-”

“But you fucked him,” his voice twisted into a heatbreaking whine, an image flicked before his eyes and he closed them quickly, shaking it from his head.

“No!” She coughed and she could feel herself getting light-headed. 

“You love him,” his voice was breaking beneath him and his eyes darted between hers as the toxin showed him more and more; everything of which included her.

“Jonathan!” she screamed and hit his chest hard with closed fists, “I can’t fucking breathe!” 

His eyes snapped open wider and he released his grip around her throat. Her feet landed on the ground and she coughed, sinking into a crouch against the wall. Crane stepped back and watched her silently. He was still shaking as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. 

“Why would I save you if I loved him?” She cried in frustration, rubbing her bruised throat. “It’s the toxin, Jonathan… I didn’t do the things you think I did,” her voice softened. She looked up at him and stood slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. Crane cradled his head in his hands and whimpered. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly and stepped closer. He shook his head and created more distance between them. “Jonathan, tell me.” She pressed and he exhaled with a soft shutter.

“You… fuck,” he started through heavy breaths, working himself up again. “I see you and Gordon…” He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s been so long since…”

“Since what?” She furrowed her brow, questioning. His eyes darted away into the corner and he shook.

“Since my father last used it…” he took a deep breath and finished his sentence with a lengthy exhale, “on me.” 

“The fear toxin?” She whispered, slowly starting to understand what he was suggesting. He nodded and flinched as if something had attacked him. Was he saying that his father used a prototype of the fear toxin on him? She grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket and tugged his attention away. 

“It’s just me. There’s no one else- nothing else in here except for me,” she gestured to the nearly empty room (the officer was still unconscious in the corner). “And I’m here for you,” she whispered and closed the distance between them, her hands slipped around his small waist beneath his suit jacket. She felt his body tense beneath her embrace before slowly (very slowly) releasing its tension. He didn’t hug her back but rested his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and found the shallow wound on the back of his head. She ducked her head as she pulled away, finding his mouth and kissing him gently. The toxin was slowly wearing off and she could tell he was only beginning to return to his normal self. 

“We need to get up to my office,” he muttered and looked at the door. “They’re releasing the patients.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow. Crane sighed and shook his head. 

“Ra’s gave orders to open all of the cells. The patients will be let loose into the city.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “We need to get upstairs.” His expression was tense as she could tell he was trying to fight the lingering effects of the toxin. She nodded. 

“Show me where to go.” 

He pulled her through the door and they ran down the corridor to an elevator. When the doors opened, Crane used his key to override the system, preventing anyone else from calling the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor with his office, not realizing that his other hand was squeezing tightly around hers. When the doors opened again, they rushed down the hallway and into Crane’s office. He sighed when the door was locked and the blinds closed. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked him quietly and he inhaled slowly. 

“I need to inject you with the antidote so the toxin doesn’t affect you when we leave the building.” He murmured, more to himself.

“We’re going out there?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice but he detected it instantly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you scared?” He asked automatically. 

“Of both of us dying out there at the hands of one of your old patients, yes, yes I am.” She nearly laughed. 

“Don’t you want to be part of the fun?” The Jonathan Crane she knew was definitely coming back. 

“I’d rather not become the ‘fun’,” she quipped and he smirked. 

“As you wish.” 

She followed him into his lab and he rummaged through a collection of vials arranged on one of the counters. Finding the right one, he slipped it inside a cartridge of what looked like an epipen. 

“Pull down your pants,” he ordered and then it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that and do what I tell you,” he said sternly and she did as he asked, pulling down her trousers where he had access to her thigh. “This will hurt,” he warned her before immediately plunging the needle into the fat around her thigh. She hissed in pain and heaved out a breath. 

“The good news is that you don’t have to ever do this again,” he patted her leg and buttoned her pants for her. “Now me,” he changed the vial and unbuckled his pants. He raised the hem of his boxers and punctured the needle into his upper thigh. He grunted in pain and closed his eyes for a moment and whistled out a tight breath. A large explosion shook the ground below their feet. She jumped and winced as she landed on her sore leg. Without opening his eyes, Crane nodded. 

“And that would be the patients leaving the building now.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it to the side, buckling his pants. 

“Let me see your head,” she touched his arm and he leaned forward slightly, turning his head where she could see it clearly. She carded her fingers through his dark hair and parted the dark roots away from the shallow wound. “It's a small cut, you’ll live.” 

“Thanks, doctor.” He smirked. Her fingers shifted through his hair as he straightened and she tried not to look disappointed when they were no longer twirled around his black locks. 

“Are you back now?” She looked up into his eyes, looking for trances of fear. 

“I think so,” he responded and traced his index finger around the collar of her sweater. There were small bruises where his fingers had been when he forced her against the wall in his state of panic. “Was I terrible?” He whispered. 

“Not more than usual,” she laughed lightly and covered his hand with hers. “I’m ok.” She insisted and he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. 

He was going to apologize, he was going to tell her how much he loved her and that was why he had reacted so strongly to the toxin, but the words died on his lips so instead he said, “We should leave before the city goes all the way under.”

“They’ll raise the bridges so no one can leave, it’s too late.” 

Crane chuckled and leaned against the lab table behind him, his fingers grasping around the edge. “And once again, you severely underestimate me. Come on.” 

vi 

“Get on,” Crane held the bridle and gestured for her to mount the large black steed. 

“You’re kidding right?” She looked around at the burning city and then back to the police horse who’d lost its rider. 

“I wish I was,” he sighed and tugged her closer by her waistband, “now giddy-up, Miss —.” He joked flatley and pushed her up onto the saddle. He hoisted himself up after her and sat in front, taking the reins in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her thighs around the horse's stomach, holding on for dear life. 

“Where the hell did you learn to ride a horse?” She yelled over the panic and she felt him chuckle. 

“Oh, there are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, detective.” He smirked and kicked the horse into action. She gasped and held him tighter as they flew through the violence-strewn streets. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked to the people of Gotham but under the influence of the fear toxin, she hoped people were more afraid than amused seeing a man in a full suit riding a horse. Crane focused on the route ahead, navigating them through the broken city. 

“Where’s Ra’s?” She yelled into his ear. 

“Forget about him.” He growled and urged the horse faster. 

“Why? What happened?” 

“He tricked me. He didn't just want to impose an arguably better government, he wanted to kill everyone and to kill us too. He tipped off Batman and that’s how Batman found me. He didn't need me after the toxin had been released. He kept you away from me, didn’t he?” He called over his shoulder, leaping over a crashed car. 

“Yes, he told me to go to the precinct instead when I tried to warn you about the DA.” 

“He wanted Batman to find me and he assumed that you’d get stuck here after you followed Gordon. Two birds with one stone. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He growled and turned the horse onto a side-street and into an alley. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her grip tightening around Crane as she saw people screaming in the streets. 

“To my father’s house.” 

“How?” His father’s house? After his father had probably done something horrible to him?

“Just hold on,” he warned and flicked the reins again. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the terror in the streets. While some of it gave her pleasure to see the raw side of humanity express itself, it reminded her of what she had seen as a child- the side of people that came out when they needed to survive. 

They rode to the edge of the city and Crane slowed the horse to a stop beside a tall building that looked abandoned. He hopped off of the horse and helped her down, catching her as she forced herself to slip over the saddle. The building was far enough away from the inner-city that it looked like it hadn’t been touched yet by the chaos, though the toxins had definitely reached it. 

“We need to get to the roof,” he informed her calmly and pointed her to the elevator. 

“Another elevator…” she whispered beneath her breath, knowing it wasn’t the right time to mention how much she hated the idea of going into one when the world around them was ending. Crane pressed the button labeled “20R,” and the elevator began to soar up. The elevator had windows that opened into the city. As the elevator climbed, they could see the destruction of Gotham and right across the bridge, normalcy.

“Ra’s is moving the micro-wave emitter by the high speed rail. If his plan goes accordingly, the emitter will poison the other side of the city beneath Wayne tower.” He pointed out the tall Wayne building from their vantage point. “I hate Gotham and I hate Batman, but I think I hate Ra’s Al Ghul more.” He sneered distastefully. “We could have run Gotham…” he sighed and shrugged, “maybe another day.” 

She couldn’t help herself but laugh. Being with Crane had opened her eyes to a new side of herself, one that was dark and masochistic. She liked this side better, way better. She liked thinking that one day she could be in charge, force out all of the government officials that were too dumb or sexist to listen to her. She could lead beside Crane… 

When the elevator doors opened a gust of wind met them. The doors opened onto the roof of the huge building. A helicopter stood in the center of a large bull’s eye, its blades running in circles above their heads. Crane’s hair ruffled in the wind and he squinted his eyes against it. Her mouth fell open in shock and Crane chuckled at her reaction. 

“That’s the funny thing about, trust, detective. I don’t believe in it,” he smirked and beckoned her to the helicopter’s doors. 

“You planned this?” She yelled as he gestured her to climb onto the landing gear. 

“Of course,” he smiled, "I always have a backup plan." Her mary janes slipped across the bars as she climbed and Crane supported her back, guiding her back into the body of the machine. He pulled himself inside after her and collapsed in one of the seats. She tried to orient herself, looking around the small helicopter, landing on the pilot. The pilot nodded at Crane, he was wearing a thick mask and goggles to keep the toxin away. 

“Ready doctor?” The pilot called from the front and Crane nodded breathlessly. He looked at her and clenched his jaw, returning to the version of Crane she knew so well. 

“Yes.”

[foursaints]

thursday snippet ♡

thank you for the tags my sweets @itsjaywalkers & @carniferous i got so excited to read yours when i saw the notifs...

“Stop swaggering around like a fucking— expensive gigolo.” Barty just nabs the soda can right from his fingers, slinging his arm over the back of the booth— over Evan’s shoulders— and lounging himself down in one contiguous motion, “Oh, you wish I was your gigolo. That’s why you’re bringing it up, yeah? Freudian, Rosie.” Evan tries for a chuckle that he hopes sounds wry but instead comes out tinged with a slight edge of hysteria. He can feel Barty’s hand where it’s brushing against his shoulder, the strip of his exposed wrist, “I wish you had a pelvis that, like, obeyed the laws of physics. Seriously, how do you even tilt it like that, when you walk? Do you practice in the mirror? Every morning?” “If you were buying me, Rosie, how much would you pay? Humor me— just, like, ballpark number. More or less than a two-bedroom house?” Barty pauses, Evan’s drink halfway to his lips, considering. His voice dips that octave lower, “I’d do you for free, you know.” Evan wrinkles his nose, recoiling, “It would actually have to be for free, because I’d probably actively pay you to stay away from me. Never in a million years would I—“ “You know what they say—” “—I swear if you open your mouth and it’s another fucking made-up, bullshit fucking folksy proverb—” “—Hyperbole is the bedfellow of sincerity,” Barty finishes undaunted with a flourish of his Diet Coke. Evan snorts, “Yeah, now if you could kindly point me to whatever fucking fake Ye Olde Horseshit Almanac you pulled that one from, it would be…” He finally trails off as he catches a sudden glimpse of Regulus’s face, jaw agape, a single french fry frozen in its path to his mouth. Evan realizes, with a sudden wave of humiliation, he forgot that Regulus was even there. His eyes are flicking between them like he’s watching a routine broadcast tennis match that devolved into sudden, horrific violence. “Oh, this is bad,” Regulus gapes, “How long has this been going on? This is, like, really bad.”

honestly this is such a long snippet but i Care Them sorry.. ofc i tag @static-radio-ao3 @pupmotif @casstration @grimsneverendingfuneral @sanguineerose and also autumn always @betaot4

[ugh-yoongi]

Hi! For the Valentine’s Day drabble I was thinking there’s an office Valentine’s Day party and namjoon and y/n are both single but somehow they end up hooking up in a broom closet. 😭😭

boy oh boy was i glad to get an excuse to write some namjoon porn after this whirlwind of a day! mr. shows up to the office 15 minutes late with starbucks a giant ass hickey on his neck thinking his coworkers wouldn't notice....... hoe behavior.

this is rushed bc i've had brainworms since yoongi's tour announcement, my bad! unedited again bc we die like men.

pairing: namjoon x f. reader

genre: pwp, crack/humor, office au

rating: explicit. minors dni.

warnings: swearing, catboy yoongi agenda, taehyung is a menace, mentions of drug use (weed), reader wears a dress and is a bit of a brat, one (1) spank, fingering, protected sex in an office closet.

wordcount: 1.2k

not taking anymore drabble requests, but feel free to come yell at me about how unhinged this week has been in bts world

(The party had been Taehyung’s idea.

A nice way to break up the afternoon, he’d said, because it wasn’t like Q1 was already slow as it was; wasn’t like you spent most of your workday typing gibberish into empty Word documents to appear busy. Point is: there was no soulless office monotony to break up, Seokjin just hadn’t felt like arguing, so he’d signed off on the Valentine’s Day party without even reading Taehyung’s harebrained proposal.)

“There’s a chocolate fountain in the cafeteria,” Yoongi says, voice bordering on stunned disbelief as he drops into his cubicle next to yours. “It has edible glitter in it.”

“Yeah,” you retort, because there certainly is a chocolate fountain with edible glitter in it in the cafeteria and Seokjin had signed off on it without sparing a second to think. “Taehyung’s idea.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Were the heart-shaped bath bombs his idea too?”

“Haven’t seen those. Where’d he put them?”

“In the toilets. He’s gonna ruin the plumbing. Seokjin’s gonna throw a fucking fit, and we’re accounting, so he’s gonna make it our problem.” Yoongi groans. Plonks his head down on his desk. “I bet he’s gonna cut the Cat Fridays budget to cover the cost.”

“Oh no,” you intone, “not Cat Fridays.”

Yoongi picks his head up only to glare at you. “Fuck off. Some of us need the stress relief.”

“So grow up and smoke weed like an adult, Yoongi.”

“I have asthma, you fucking prick—”

Yoongi’s tirade—which you’re sure was going to be effective and logical and would not, at all, devolve into baseless name-calling—is interrupted by Taehyung, who appears behind you out of nowhere and sprinkles confetti over your and Yoongi’s desks. “Surprise! Party time!”

“Taehyung, I swear to fuck—”

But then Taehyung’s gone, the copious amounts of heart-shaped confetti the only proof he’d been there at all. Your desk neighbor looks murderous, but the lure of the chocolate fountain is strong, especially when there’s little tea cakes, too, so it’s not really a surprise that he nearly bulldozes you into the wall to get there first.

It’s not that you hate Valentine’s Day. You don’t even dislike it, because you actually like those chalky conversation hearts so everyone offloads them onto you, it’s just a little hard to focus when Kim Namjoon strolls in wearing a silk shirt with the top button undone. It’s doubly hard to focus when Jeongguk zeroes in on him immediately, and goes, “What is that?”

You pretend not to hear it, because they can’t suspect you if you don’t react, and a reaction is exactly what Jeongguk is looking for.

“What is what,” Namjoon replies, sounding as nonplussed as ever. You’d buy it, if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but because you do, you know it’s a farce. Any second now he’s going to crack. Sooner, if anyone presses him on it.

You hear someone click their tongue. Maybe Jeongguk, but you aren’t turning around to check. You can already feel how warm your cheeks are; there’s no way you’d be able to hide it.

“That thing on your neck.” Oh, god, that’s Jimin’s voice.

Namjoon chuckles. Acts like this entire conversation is beneath him, and that’s definitely doing something for you. Definitely has you squeezing your thighs together as you stand next to the stupid chocolate fountain, trying to eavesdrop over the mechanical whirring. “I got hurt at the gym last night.”

“The gym,” Jimin repeats, and it’s clear he doesn’t buy it. “And what were you doing at the gym that resulted in a neck injury? You just said the other day you haven’t been working out much.”

“CrossFit.”

“Wait, I’m confused. Were you doing CrossFit or were you at the gym?”

“He was doing CrossFit at the gym. He just said that—”

“No he wasn’t,” Jeongguk argues. “That’s like saying you were doing gym at the gym, it doesn’t make sense—”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. Look up at seemingly the perfect time, because Namjoon’s already looking at you, gaze all but saying, see what you did? And, yeah, you do—you can see it loud and clear, all the way from the other side of the room, because that dark bruise on his neck is courtesy of you. Roughly three days old, given in the dark of his bedroom after company drinks on Friday.

So you tamper your embarrassment. Shrug a little. Dip a strawberry into Taehyung’s ridiculous chocolate fountain with the edible glitter and stare as you bring it to your mouth, wrap your lips around it. Jimin and Jeongguk are still arguing, and Namjoon is just watching, corners of his mouth quirked up infinitesimally.

Then he gestures to the hallway.

Mouths meet me there.

And you know what that means.

It’s frenzied and hurried from the start. Namjoon’s everywhere and nowhere at once—skimming, pinching, grabbing at every inch of skin he can get his hands on before they disappear, move onto someplace else. “This is gonna have to be quick,” he says, already breathless, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“No shit.”

That earns you a smack on the ass. “Keep this out of the way,” he says, pushing your dress up and over your hips. “See, this is the reason I told you no marks.”

There’s a riposte on the tip of your tongue, something obvious like you weren’t complaining when I was giving it to you, and Namjoon must know this because he pulls your underwear to the side and sinks two fingers into your cunt. Embarrassing, how seamless the slide is; how there’s no friction, just his large fingers pressing insistently on your g-spot.

He groans. Aborts the sound halfway so he doesn’t get the two of you caught. “Love how you’re always so wet for me.”

“Not you,” you retort. “Got really excited about the chocolate fountain.” You can’t see him, considering he’s got you bent over at the waist, but you know he’s rolling his eyes.

“I shouldn’t fuck you at all, since you wanna be a brat.”

“Yeah, I think HR would be inclined to agree—”

He cuts you off with another swat to your ass. Stops touching you only as long as it takes to roll on a condom, and then he’s pressing inside. It’s all heat: Namjoon rolling his hips at a steady pace, careful to be quiet; his fingers immediately moving to rub at your clit, because this definitely has to be quick; him whispering pure filth in that deep voice of his.

You’re teetering on the edge of the quickest orgasm of all time when your blurt out, “Is Yoongi allergic to cats?”

Namjoon just groans again. Pure annoyance. Plays along. Says, “I don’t know, why?”

“Be-because he said he can’t—fuck—smoke weed because he ha-has asthma, but he’s really—oh fuck, I’m gonna come—really scared Seokjin’s gonna—fuuuuuuck—gonna get rid of Cat Fridays.”

Namjoon thrusts harder, reaches deeper. “Will you just shut up and come? Who cares about Yoongi right now—”

Then, because both Yoongi and the universe hate you, there’s a knock on the door. “Really weird you two are in there talking about me while you’re fucking.”

And Namjoon must have some kind of voyeurism kink he hasn’t told you about, because he moans low and spills into the condom.