#no offense to them but i think they’re maybe so immersed that they can’t see the outside perspective

[dyed-indigo]

wild how the tumblr sexyman rematch has more people arguing about what is and isn’t a tumblr sexyman than the original twitter poll

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Who is in Control? - Part 2

A/N: Unedited smut because ya girl is ALWAYS thirsty for Henry Cavill. 🔥🔥🔥 Catch up on Part 1 HERE!  Masterlist

August Walker x Reader 

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2570k

Warnings: dirty filthy CONSENSUAL smut, language (Just don’t scroll past the cut if you don’t want to read smut)

******************************************

“FUCK!” Ethan slammed his hands abruptly on the table. “Damnit, we missed him. He’s gone.”

“We’ve searched nearly every smelly crevice London has to offer. We were so damn close!”

“Lane’s gotta be with him. If we hurry, we can still sniff out his tracks.”

Ethan eyed Y/N suspiciously; “Think Y/N. Where would he go next?”

Y/N scanned through every memory she could muster. Her frontal lobe throbbed as she rubbed the spot aggressively.

“Hazlitt’s! That’s where we’d go.”

“You sure?”

“I know it. 100%”

“Why there?”

“I’d read to him when we were in bed together. Hazlitt’s is a hotel. He surprised me when he actually listened one night. I was reading an autobiography about essayist William Hazlitt. He was the one to find out William had died there. My morbid curiosity found his gesture macabre yet sweet. It was his way of showing he’d cared without saying anything at all. And before you say anything ridiculing, don’t.”

“Shit, what the hell did you do to him? No wonder he’s on a damn rampage.”

Dryly chuckling, Y/N didn’t quite know how to follow up, fumbling over her fucked up feelings once again.

“It was our place where we could just be ourselves. Away from the world and constant bloodshed. No alterative motives, no plan of action, just us. If he’s as heartbroken as he’s letting on, I bet that’s where we’ll find him. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a trip down memory lane, hm?”

“I underestimated you, Y/N. Fucking the information out of him AND tricking him into thinking it was love. You’re a fucking genius.”

She coldly glared at him, her mind already two steps ahead of Hunt pissing him off to no end.

“Seriously. When did it stop being a mission?”

“The SAC told me to keep an eye on him, make sure he stayed in line under a watchful eye. They teamed us together as an experiment. I can’t pinpoint when, it just happened Ethan. I mean we’ve worked side by side in the field for three years! THREE YEARS.”

“He’s scared of you. You’re his one weak link.”

She mulled his comment over. It was a truth she wasn’t quite ready to admit. Yes, she wanted to make him hurt but killing him was an entirely different story. She prayed her strength was hiding, just waiting to surface when called upon.

“Clock’s running. Let’s go.”

So, Y/N followed him through a skinny corridor alley getting to the car at an inhumanely speed.

----------

Ethan and Y/N surveyed the perimeter looking for an obtainable entrance point. The dumbfounded clerk had confirmed a Mr. Patrick Bateman checking in. Taking after his favorite character, Y/N knew what room they’d find him in. His impeccable taste for detail consistently blew her away. Room 916. No doubt in her mind. The day they met, or as he likes to better describe; the first time he ever felt noticed.

“Let me go in first. Try and reason with him.”

Irritation came off him in waves crashing nonverbally disagreeing with Y/N.

“Too dangerous. This isn’t negotiable.”

Undermining his own words Y/N spoke; “I’m not asking for permission, I’m telling.”  

Just then, the door swung open, Y/N sauntered towards a seeable back exit adjacent from Hunt’s point of sight. Walls bare of color and life lined the narrow hallway. The dimness bordered into eerie. An unknown sound skyrocketed her frenzied nerves. 913…914…915…

The garish gold numbers stood conspicuously still. Invisible weights kept her place. A knock resonated off the white dilapidated door.

Nothing. No response, not a sense of movement. Can’t fool me that easily Walker.

“I know you’re there—watching me through that stupid peephole wondering what in the literal hell I’m doing here.”

A chain clanged loose as the door astutely opened. Never had she met a man as devilishly handsome before. Towering over her 5ft7 frame, he smirked.

“Don’t give me that look. We need to talk.”

August didn’t flinch a muscle remaining inaudible. All of a sudden enigmatic emptiness consumed her.

“By all means, please come in.”

Good to see his charm and charisma hadn’t yet abandoned him.

“We both know you didn’t come alone. How long I do we have?”

“15 minutes, maybe 20 if you’re lucky. And I dare say luck isn’t on your side today. Why did you leave?”

“Getting straight to the point then my love?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Walker. I’m seriously not in the mood.”

The air conditioner hummed in the background forcing goosebumps to prickle her skin. An unexplainable chill drifted around them; a veiled noose of destruction lingering just out of sight. Y/N walked towards the window gazing up at the luminated stars. 

She’d always been fond of constellations and their profound mark on the universe. Heavy footsteps followed making their way to her. His breathe tickled along her collarbone standing mere inches away. His hands reached for hers interlacing their fingers placing a wet kiss to the exposed column of her neck.

“How far are you prepared to go?”

Her neck slanted at him in childish annoyance.

Y/N snorted; “I will go further than you. However, many weapons you’re willing to bring, I’ll bring more. However low you will go; you will never dig deeper than me. I will win, because what this will cost me in pain, I will pay. My resources are limitless, I will always outbid you, and I will never, ever back down. Am I clear?”

The seriousness in her tone amused him giggling quietly. His rebuttal was quick and brash.

“You must seriously hate the person underneath that attractive flesh of yours.”

“Already to the petty part of the evening? Always a sour puss, Auggie.”

Closing the space between them, August pinned his upper body to Y/N’s back. Her head landed powerfully on his shoulder; his fingers brushed her pulse point teasingly.

“Neither of us are getting out alive darling. Have you paid your penance? Shall we be rejoined in the afterlife or reign in hell? I do wonder.”

Ignoring him Y/N pressed further; “Where’s the plutonium? Death is but a ploy of distraction.”

“Clever girl. Reverse psychology won’t work on me, Y/N. Try again.”

His right hand wrapped entirely around her delicate neck into a light chokehold securing her in place.  

A hushed rough voice similar to a forgotten whisper slipped through; “You’re the one who has to live with your choice. Everyone else will get over it, move on, no matter what you decide. But you never will.”

His left hand stroked the button of her jeans undoing them in record time. The zipper was the next offensive item to go before he shoved her pants around her wobbly knees. Paralyzed in fear, Y/N didn’t risk moving a single muscle.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Here, now, pressed against this chilled glass, exposed for the whole world? I’ll gamble just one glance from a stranger down below will get your rocks off.”

His next words terrified her; “Only I can make you feel this alive. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She fought the searing intrusion growing between her thighs. He spoke directly to her reflection like he was talking to a ghost.

A concoction of pants and grunts were the only distinguishable noise escaping Y/N. August’s hand slithered underneath her blouse groping her covered breasts. Still she didn’t move to stop him. She was putty in his glorious hands ready to be molded into whatever he needed or craved. immersed terror sent a jolt of unexplainable excitement to her core. 

Y/N cowered ashamed of her body’s biological reaction. But something in her brain told her to let him see the demon hiding in plain sight. Suddenly, Y/N reached back fisting the hair along his neck and pulled, hard.

Her behavior shifted on the cusp of absurdity. The ruthless killer long submerged had finally met her match, someone just as vile as she believed herself to be.

“You’re not the only cold-blooded asshole in the world. Hate to burst your villainous bubble.”

“I know, my darling. I’ve waited so patiently to see you in this darkened light of misery. After this, you won’t be able to go back to work without seeing every speckle of shit sprinkled before your eyes. CIA, FBI, MI6, they’re over and you my dear play a dear role in their long-awaited demise. Once you cross this line, which you undoubtfully will, Agent Y/N is dead.”

August swept her hair to one side nipping a trail along her collarbone. Her blood pressure steadied showing him she was calm, in control, and spontaneously impulsive.

Gauging his reaction, Y/N leaned into August; “I know. You’re my Hades and I’m the beloved Persephone. We’re written in destiny, baby. You and me.”

Her voice expressed a detached, cunning, and malevolent mischief. Her words made his skin crawl and cock harden. She was truly magnificent.  

“Did you know that I’ve dreamt of your blood spilling while I fucked you raw? Holding a silver tipped blade on that very neck of yours, watching the fear grow as I rode you like a wild stallion. There’s no more denying the predatory urges I desire with you, for you....to you. We could have the world at our finger tips, Auggie. Quite frankly, you don’t scare me a bit and it pisses you off.”

August bit down sinking his teeth into her peachy flesh leaving a crimson imprint in his wake. Y/N yelped; her underwear flooded with moisture. Her feet wobbled closer to the glass as August shoved her forward. With her breasts pressed against the window, she heard the fasten of his zipper undo. Her nipples hardened in response. August’s dick pressed vigorously into her ass cheeks hitting every spot but the one she wanted. A feral growl betrayed her as she pushed back in resistance.

“Mmhm, who’s the horny one now?”  

“I’ve grown familiar with villains that live in my bed…”

The lace grazing her hips snapped painfully watching her panties fall to the floor.

“Ouch! Easy asshole.”

“Vile words from such a pretty mouth. Obviously, there’s lessons to still be achieved with you yet.”

“You foolish brute. You should be thanking me for covering your tracks, saving that scrumptious ass of yours. Oh, my pet…when you will realize you are the one at my disposal now?”

Finally, skin to skin August lined up with her entrance. His tip rubbed teasingly against her parted folds pushing in a few inches. His shallow thrusts only spurred her on. He didn’t dare let up on the vice grip of her hips. An unnaturally strained whimper strangled the surrounding room. Pre cum leaked from the tip stirring the aching in their bellies.

“You have no idea how disturbingly gratifying it is to have found an equal, a partner of sorts with a taste for blood and sadism.”

His mocking grew old quickly as his hands continued their firm hold.

“We put Bonnie and Clyde to shame. Pathetic for running, idiotically oblivious to their own demise that lot. They didn’t appreciate the art of murder. The true pleasure of control. No room for impulse or error. Unappreciative of valuing a method to morbid madness.”

Without a word, he sunk in Y/N in one quick push. Her hands jutted out leaving imprints along the steamed window.

“Ah, fuck Auggie.”

Again, August snapped forwards unrelenting in his cruel pace. Y/N met him each and every movement in their ferocious dance of dominance. She squeezed her pelvic muscles painstakingly tight around his cock. August’s eyes rolled to the back of his head attempting to picture anything to keep him from busting that very second.

“Hunt will be arriving soon. We can run, start anew, create chaos elsewhere without any government supervision. Say the word and I’m yours.”

Y/N barely made out his panted speech due to the pounding of blood running through her ear canals crashing like waves. She was too turned on, too lost left unable to process what August was offering instead moaning raucously loud.

Slapping of skin resonated as their ends soon approached desiring nothing more than to cum. His balls slapped against her as his cum dribbled down her inner thighs. He rammed harder causing Y/N to stumble remaining deep inside her. August halted all movements finding a pair of sapphire eyes staring into his. Y/N shifted her hips in hopes of resume.

“Fucking move, Walker. I want to cum.”

“What’s your decision; orgasm or death?”

Silence stilled; August’s patience was disappearing at an alarming rate. He rutted upwards into her forcing an exhale from her lungs.

“You embarrass yourself with the question if you didn’t already know the answer.”

Anger blinded him compelling him to rip her face towards him. In his moment of rage, August thrusted powerfully reading her body like the back of his hand. She was on the cusp of orgasming and he took full advantage of that knowledge.

Barely a whisper graced his ears; “Yes, forever yes.”

Her pussy constricted pulling him in deeper than ever before as they fucked like wild animals. Taking whatever offered succumbing closer to orgasmic ecstasy.

“Good girl.”

August stiffened bending Y/N at the waist driving violently into her dripping cunt. Not more than four thrusts later, August tensed feeling Y/N constrict around his length sending a shiver down his spine. Breathy grunts could be heard through the walls as he filled her with his sticky cum. She devoured every drop placing her hands on his ass keeping him in place at her sweet spot. Her orgasm overtook her like a summer thunderstorm on a midnight sky. 

She quivered speechless as she surrendered to his touch. This breath tickled the back of her glistening neck. Hot white emission gushed out of him painting a mural in her womb. They didn’t move from their current predicament still coming down from their highs. All too soon, August removed himself tucking himself back into his pants. Y/N stayed in place untrusting of her jelly legs.

“Shit, I needed that.” A tiny queef escaped her now drenched lips watching in awe as small spurts of his juice ran down her legs like raindrops. She swiped a finger against the white liquid sucking it dry. August felt his cock twitch in his pants wanting to fuck her all over again.

“We need to get out of here now.” Tossing her a towel, she cleaned herself observing August scramble his life remnants together.

“Where to next?”

That devilish smile she so longingly adored frighteningly arose to life, his pupils darkened at her questioning nature, before reaching his hand towards hers. She accepted interlocking their fingers as one. In two seconds, time, August pulled her into his grasp kissing her in passionately. Their kiss was messy, vile, and monstrous. Y/N already craved another round but knew better than to push. After all, they were on a time constraint.

“India. We’re off to India my dove.”

“I hear their Murg Makhani is quite delectable.”

“I have a friend in Kashir but we must move quickly. We need something to knock Hunt off our scent.”

“I’ve just the idea.”

Just one glance was all it took for August to read her mind effortlessly.

“By all means lead the way.”

A wickedly foul smirk scrabbled to the surface, unearthed from a long-sealed lockbox.

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.…”

~~~~

Tags:  @maggiemoo1892 @thedeadhearted @giveusbackourbucky @henry-cavill-obsessed  @onlyhenrys @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @threeminutesoflife @homewreckingwreck @gemini0410 @maan14 @bluegalaxyprime @sofiebstar @whyyykitkat @encounterthepast  @readermia @ly-canthropewrites @scorpionchild81 @henrythickcavill @snowbellexx @stephartrave @agniavateira  @henrythickcavill @cap-barnes @henryfanfics101  @mary-ann84 @westcoast-nightowl @poledancingdinos  @justaboringadult @peakygroupie @scorpionchild81 @nalathefirefly @vikingsbifrost @bloodyinspiredfuck @moderapoppins @cooldiva1234 @icedcoffeeismythang @titty-teetee @summersong69 @kaatelyyynn @missursulacalmet @michelehansel @iloveyouyen @shyshu @star017 @raynosaurus-rex @radkesgirl83 @titty-teetee @starrynite7114  @wheretheriversrunintothesea @i-love-scott-mccall  @darkbooksarwin @ellieseymour70 @designerwriterchic @studywithrosie01 @dangerouslovefanfic @lebguardians @crazybutconfidentaf @hen-cavill​  @cavill-sass​ @oh-for-fic-sake​ @icedbottles​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @brexrif​ @gryffindorwriter​ @laketaj24​ 

[aliciameade]

Full Reveal

Title: Full Reveal Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Extra Fun Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Chloe and her [very famous] girlfriend Beca escape into anonymity at a Las Vegas burlesque performance, though the show has other plans for them that stir up some playful feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that beg to be addressed.

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Ladies? If you’d follow me?”

“I saw that,” Chloe teases in Beca’s ear, fingertips tickling Beca’s lower back through her sheer black shirt.

Beca’s response is little more than a side-eye and a smirk as she shoos Chloe’s hand away. Chloe takes no offense, of course. They are less than alone as a concierge leads them through a dark, sultry hallway teeming with people in various states of inebriation. Their escort is an attractive blonde wearing a black three-piece suit and stilettos, though she seems to have forgotten to don the shirt beneath the vest to leave ample cleavage on display and Beca hadn’t been very discreet about looking at it.

They’re in Las Vegas for the weekend. Beca is there ostensibly for work—she’s performing tomorrow night at Mandalay Bay—but when she’s not scheduled for soundcheck, press, meet and greets, and the concert itself, the weekend is for the two of them. They’ve sacrificed the privacy and seclusion of the embarrassingly large home they share in Malibu in favor of a weekend of fun. 

They’d sacrificed anonymity years ago when Beca decided, with the support of their friends, to take the leap into becoming a solo artist, leaving behind the frustrating and often unfulfilling career in music production she thought she’d been made for.

It turned out that performing was a lot more fun for her.

The paychecks were also a lot bigger.

And Chloe was by her side for the breakneck launch of Beca’s new career, quietly smiling as she trailed a few steps behind on red carpets, tucked herself into corners of green rooms while Beca entertained VIPs after concerts, and watched her girlfriend present at award shows from backstage monitors.

The general public doesn’t know who Beca is dating, or if she is dating anyone at all. She doesn’t talk about having a current relationship in interviews, just tales of bad ones in her past. There are plenty of rumors and theories, and some people are correct in their hypothesis that the friend often accompanying Beca to parties or seen grabbing coffee or grocery shopping with is more than just a friend.

It’s a privacy thing for Beca. She is out and proud, finally, and she had decided she didn’t owe the public more of her than she was already giving them. Chloe respected that decision; she waited so long for Beca, she probably would have agreed to the wildest of terms if it meant finally being in a relationship with the woman. But simply keeping their relationship status away from the public wasn’t a big ask. Their friends and family knew. Beca’s team knew. But the public was left to its own conjecture.

It helped that part of why Beca didn’t want to share that part of her life with the public was because she wanted to protect it.

It was really damn romantic for Chloe.

It’s also fun. It’s like they have alter egos and tonight they are attending the midnight performance of Luxury X Lace in a small cabaret venue in the depths of a massive casino as nothing more than two friends having a girls’ night out in the city that never sleeps. It was the hottest ticket in a town full of hot tickets, an X-rated burlesque that confiscated cell phones at the door in exchange for your choice of black, silver, or gold masquerade masks to help strip patrons of their identity and inhibitions and immerse them into a world of high-end debauchery.

Beca’s publicist had made a phone call and Beca and her good friend Chloe were invited to the Friday night performance. Phones were exchanged for masks—black for Beca and silver for Chloe—to be led into the cabaret hall.

It’s far more intimate than Chloe had expected. There are a dozen tables arranged around the X-shaped stage and three lines of booths curving around the wall behind the tables. The stage is empty save for a single black chair positioned at the center of it. Music pulses around them.

They are shown to the center booth on the first level, something Chloe suspects is likely the choice seat in the venue. She’s been with Beca long enough to recognize plenty of such perks.

She prefers other types of perks that come with being with Beca, though. Like the way Beca’s hand immediately comes to rest on Chloe’s bare knee just below the hem of Chloe’s gray pleated skirt. Chloe smiles to herself and peruses the themed cocktail menu, content with their proximity and connection. She knows there will be more tonight once they are back in the privacy of their suite at the Mandalay.

“What are you thinking?”

Chloe lets herself smirk, knowing Beca will see it and read exactly what Chloe was thinking, though she knows that wasn’t what Beca was asking. “I think I’m going to try this one, the ‘Satin Sheets,’” she says, tapping on the menu before rotating it so Beca can choose as well.

She watches other patrons arrive to be shown to their tables, the air of excitement growing around them as scantily clad waitresses start to weave their way from table to table collecting drink orders. They spend time flirting with everyone and Chloe notices the way they don’t hesitate to offer a friendly touch to their customer: a playful nudge of a shoulder, fingers through the short hair of the men, winks, and close examinations of manicures or rings on the women.

When a blonde arrives at their table, Chloe thinks that perhaps they will be exempt from this flirtation. Their seating in the booth is not conducive to a waitress sidling up next to someone as can be done at a table and chairs on an open floor, but to compensate, the waitress simply slides into the booth next to Chloe and offers a well-practiced sultry smile.

“Hello, ladies. My name is Jasmine, and I’ll be sure you’re well taken care of tonight.”

Chloe thinks Jasmine might recognize Beca, even with the mask. There’s a bit of a hesitation in the way her eyes linger on Beca. Or maybe she’s just appreciating Beca’s eyes and lips and jawline the same way Chloe does. Or maybe she’s just working on a good tip. But Chloe knows they are in the high roller seat and it wouldn’t take much for the waitress to connect the dots. And that means she and Beca need to be best friends. Not girlfriends.

“Hi, Jasmine,” Chloe offers and can’t help her smile when the attractive woman leans in to slowly wrap a lock of her red hair around a finger.

“I love this color,” Jasmine purrs and even though Chloe knows exactly what the waitress is doing, her own natural inclination to flirt responds.

“It’s natural,” she purrs right back, leaning into her space. She can feel Beca’s blunt fingernails press into her knee before her hand disappears. That is another perk to their secret romance: getting to experience Beca’s possessiveness. It rivals her own for Beca.

“Can you prove it?” The waitress lets her eyes drop unabashedly to Chloe’s lap before they’re back on her eyes.

“Yes, she can.” 

Chloe sees the amusement on Jasmine’s face at Beca’s interjection and the waitress backs off, interpreting Beca’s answer as asserting her dominance.

Beca asserting her dominance is nothing new. She’s been good at that since she was in college. Taking control of situations. Putting people in their place. Making people listen to what she has to say.

She asserts it everywhere but in the bedroom that she shares with Chloe.

Jasmine is unfazed by Beca, even if she does stop touching Chloe. Her demeanor is still dark and flirtatious and she redirects her attention to Beca. “Mmm, I love your voice.”

Chloe’s sure Jasmine knows now. In fact, it’s entirely possible that every employee of the production knows that Beca Mitchell is their special guest this evening. That is often the case if they attend some type of event when Beca insists she makes the calls to get the best seats and the backstage access and whatever else she thinks Chloe should have.

Chloe’s attention shifts to Beca and her reaction, but she’s well-versed in this act as well. Chloe’s bared witness to Beca emerging from her cocoon of early adulthood and her wavering confidence and awkwardness. Chloe knows Beca can charm her way into anyone’s pants nowadays, with or without the game.

She charms her way into Chloe’s on a regular basis.

“Then you’d love how it sounds moaning your name. Jasmine, was it?” Beca’s voice drips over the waitress’s name and Chloe feels her own thighs clench at her tone.

Chloe tries to mask her reaction—arousal and amusement—by adjusting the way her hair sits over her shoulders. She knows this is a game for them. It’s hot to watch Beca flirt with other women knowing it’s Chloe’s skirt that her hand will be up on the way home. So many people wanting her girlfriend but her girlfriend only wants her.

God, she can’t wait to get back to their room tonight.

“She’s going to have the Satin Sheets,” Beca continues, ordering Chloe’s drink for her. “And I’ll take the...Pillow Princess,” she concludes.

Chloe’s no fool. She knows why Beca chose that one; she knew she would the moment Chloe saw it on the menu.

Maybe Chloe really, really likes it when Beca uses her tongue. And maybe Beca likes using it just as much. Chloe’s not ashamed one bit that she asks for it with the frequency that she does.

“A perfect combination,” Jasmine says, reaching across the table just to graze her fingers over Beca’s knuckles. Working extra hard earning the big tip from the celebrity table. “I’ll be right back.” Her exit is as practiced and graceful as her appearance was and Chloe feels Beca’s hand back on her knee, maybe an inch or so higher than it was before.

“You’re such a flirt,” Beca says with a sly smile. She knows the game, well, too.

“Well, she has great tits,” Chloe answers with a shrug, playing along with their evening of Gal Pals.

That manages to ruffle Beca's feathers the tiniest bit, and she knew it would. Cleavage is something Beca definitely excels at and it’s on display tonight thanks to the black push-up bra she’s wearing beneath her sleeveless sheer black top. Chloe had unbuttoned it almost completely while they were in the elevator, leaving only the last three buttons remaining fastened. It created a wonderful peek-a-boo effect, sometimes revealing bare skin, sometimes not, and she’d given in to the temptation to press her lips to the swell of Beca’s right breast before the doors had opened. She can still see the faint imprint of her lipstick on it when the light catches it.

Beca narrows her eyes and pointedly brushes one side of her open blouse aside as a reminder of her own assets—as if Chloe could ever forget—and Chloe lets her eyes roam over the expanse of skin, tongue wetting her lips with obvious want.

That seems to rectify the situation. The corners of Beca’s mouth twitch and Chloe has to bite her lip at the way Beca’s fingers suddenly sweep up her inner thigh to graze between her legs before her hands are both above the table to accept the drinks their waitress has already returned with.

“Enjoy,” Jasmine says with a wink before departing once more.

“Mmm, we will,” Chloe says as she takes hers in her hand. “Shall we toast?”

Beca nods and lifts her glass as well. “To what?”

“To seeing where the night takes us.”

Beca’s mouth pulls into the attractive smirk Chloe fell in love with so many years ago. “What happens in Vegas…” she says and taps her glass to Chloe’s.

They drink together as the lights dim until the room is in near darkness. Under the safety of the shadows, Beca presses herself closer, her fingers moving absently but sweetly over and along Chloe’s knee and thigh. Not progressing. Just touching. Chloe lets her arm slip over Beca’s shoulders, something that is more conspicuous, but the only people who know who Beca is are those focused on putting on a show. 

A single spotlight hits the chair center stage and a figure emerges from the darkness behind it, dark hair, long legs, sparkling lingerie, platform stilettos.

They watch the performance in silence. It’s a mixture of blatant sex appeal and tongue-in-cheek humor, the performers—mostly women but a few men—each having their own unique talents and schticks, an androgynous emcee by the name of Angel guiding the audience through the evening.

Angel is funny and personable as they flirt with patrons and performers alike, cracking one-liners between performances.

Chloe watches as several performers make their way out of the wings and onto the stage until the X is occupied by eight women in matching sparkling red lace lingerie, a ninth waiting at the center wearing a black leather bustier, thigh-high boots, and holding a riding crop.

Her appearance earns a particularly boisterous round of cheers from the audience and Chloe has to admit that the woman is the most attractive person on stage, all legs and tits and long, purposely mussed blond hair.

Beca’s fingers have stopped wandering. Instead, they’re tapping along to the beat of the music. She finds rhythms woven and hidden in the instrumentals that Chloe would never hear if not for Beca’s keen ear. The soundtrack for the evening largely consists of remixes of popular songs. They’re recognizable but without the vocals, not distracting.

“And now, ladies, gentlemen, neither, both, and those yet-to-decide,” Angel says with a dramatic flourish as they slowly turn in place as if addressing each person individually, “Scarlet needs a victim—I mean, a volunteer.” 

A murmur of excitement rolls through the audience and Chloe thinks she feels Angel’s attention land squarely on their table. She can’t be sure due to the lighting; it’s possible they’re eyeing everyone in the room to increase the tension. Chloe can feel it in the way the initial excitement is now silent other than the thumping bass of a remix of a remix of a song Chloe can’t quite put her finger on in her pleasantly inebriated, slightly distracted state.

Beca seems to recognize the song, the tapping on Chloe’s knee shifting to one of confidence. It registers with her just as she senses Beca turning as if to whisper something in her ear but Chloe beats her to it.

“Hey, this is your—” is all she gets out before a lace-clad woman is taking Beca’s hand to invite her out of the booth. 

“It seems we have a volunteer!” Angel initiates an encouraging round of applause from the audience.

Chloe watches with equal parts amusement and trepidation as her very famous and very secret girlfriend is led—willingly, she notices—down through the tables and toward the stage while a version of one of Beca’s biggest hits thumps and swirls around the room. She wonders if Beca knew this was going to happen for as ready as she was to slide out of the booth to be taken to the stage where Chloe watches her climb the three steps.

“I didn’t tell you to sit,” Scarlet chastises as soon as Beca moves to sit on the chair in the center of the stage.

It makes Beca laugh and stand up straight, hands clasped in front of her.

“You didn’t even let me give you a proper welcome,” the new host says with a shake of her head and Chloe can tell she’s looking Beca up and down appreciatively.

“Sorry.” Chloe can’t really hear Beca; she doesn’t have a microphone as Scarlet does, but she sees it on her lips.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Scarlet scoffs toward the audience, causing laughter to bubble up from the tables. “Now, what should I call you?” She extends the microphone to Beca who hesitates before speaking.

The premise of the club is anonymity to allow everyone to indulge in their dark desires, but she still answers, “Beca.”

It makes Chloe’s heart stop. She knows it will take people a matter of seconds before they figure it out. She might be wearing a mask, but with her song playing and saying her name, there’s no hiding exactly who has been selected for the main event. She’s grateful that cell phones were confiscated upon arrival. If they hadn’t, she knows this would be broadcast on Instagram Live. The excitement in the room is palpable as the audience puts the pieces together.

“Beca? Everyone, let’s give Beca a warm welcome.”

The applause is not a polite smattering this time. It’s boisterous and full of whistles and shouts and Chloe just sits forward to prop her chin on her clasped hands. This wasn’t how she expected their night to go.

“Okay, Beca,” Scarlet says, her stance so casual despite her costume, “would you like to sit down?”

Beca moves to sit and yelps when Scarlet makes quick work of the riding crop. It was so quick Chloe didn’t even see it but she’d clearly used it to stop Beca from taking a seat.

“I didn’t tell you to sit. I asked if you would like to sit.” Scarlet shakes her head as she says it and the audience laughs, fully engaged in watching pop star Beca Mitchell get womanhandled. “You see, Beca, I’m the one in charge here.”

And womanhandled she gets. Scarlet’s hand, the one not holding her microphone, is on the back of Beca’s neck and wandering across her shoulders and into her hair in a way that makes Beca visibly shiver. It also makes Chloe clench her jaw.

“I know you’re a woman who holds a lot of power, but something tells me you like to give up control now and then. Am I right?”

There are teasing whistles when Beca laughs and says, “Yeah,” into the microphone.

“I think you mean, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca repeats.

“Good. Obedient,” Scarlet praises, starting to circle Beca slowly though still managing to not stop touching her. “So you’re going to listen to me, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl. Now sit.” A hand in the center of Beca’s chest pushes her down into the chair. It makes the audience whistle again.

Beca makes eye contact with Chloe once Scarlet is out of the way and flashes a smile and the small hand gesture they came up with shortly after they began dating, something they could do inconspicuously to let the other know, ‘The situation is okay, not to worry, I love you.’ They use it on red carpets, at press junkets, interviews, and appearances. Chloe was always so worried Beca was being pressured into sharing more than she wanted to or getting upset that people would confront Beca about dating rumors on national television. It was a good solution and one that has grown to have a deeper meaning for them both as time has passed.

It helps Chloe relax. It means Beca’s fine. That she did, in fact, probably agree to this in advance when she made the arrangements to attend. Chloe sits back in her seat though is no less attentive to how Scarlet is touching Beca. 

It’s fifteen minutes of amusement and agony for Chloe as she watches Scarlet entertain the audience by catching Beca misbehaving, taking action before being given permission to do so, or forgetting to say, “Yes, ma’am.” It’s particularly painful when Scarlet’s stiletto thigh-high boot gets planted on the seat of the chair right between Beca’s thighs. She’s instructed to kiss it and Chloe watches with rapt attention as Beca hesitates before doing so, kissing Scarlet’s knee.

Chloe doesn’t like it, not one bit. But she does enjoy it, which is more than a little confusing. The one thing she is sure of is that she wants the show to end so they can go back to their room where Chloe can show Beca just how much she enjoyed her performance.

It’s fifteen minutes of Beca being ordered to her knees, to lie down, to stand up, to answer questions, sometimes messing up and getting swatted across her ass with Scarlet’s riding crop. It’s entertaining for everyone, Beca included who is smiling most of the time, except when she’s ordered to wipe it off her face. Everyone is entertained by the sexy blond dominatrix making sexual innuendos with Chloe’s girlfriend, touching her, spanking her, making her laugh, and assuredly blush as the crowd gets way more than they paid for. Not just a night at Luxury X Lace but fifteen minutes of Beca Mitchell, whose concert tickets top out in the $500 range for premium seats, being sexually teased and willingly degraded.

By the time it’s over and Beca’s sliding back into their booth, Chloe has to check to see if her own fingernails have made her palms bleed from clenching her fists so hard.

“Was that fun?” she asks, making no effort to hide her irritation from her voice.

It doesn’t seem to bother Beca, though, who ignores the question and leans in to kiss Chloe. It’s hard and demanding and not something they should be doing in public and Beca’s hand returning to her thigh under the edge of her skirt makes Chloe forget why she was annoyed in the first place.

“Everything okay?” Beca asks when they part after a few more seconds.

“Um,” Chloe feels dazed, “yeah. Um...people?” She reminds tilting her head toward the rest of the seating area.

Beca just smiles and slides her hand higher up Chloe’s skirt. “No one’s watching us.”

It makes Chloe grab Beca’s hand to stop it and turn to look around. Beca’s right. The show is continuing and even though Beca’s cover is blown, their privacy in the booth remains in-tact. The audience is more interested in the mostly naked women and men on stage, not what the celebrity is getting up to with her secret girlfriend at the burlesque show.

“Oh, my God,” Chloe breathes. She can’t believe she’s agreeing to what Beca so immediately suggested upon her return. But something about what she watched did things to her. Turned her on. Made her want to remind Beca who was really the one in charge, and their name isn’t Scarlet. She nods and kisses Beca again while releasing Beca’s hand to let her do what she wants.

Beca’s smooth about it. They’ve had years to memorize perfect angles, perfect rhythms, and Chloe hates (and kind of loves) that Beca pulls back from their kiss to watch Chloe’s masked face respond to her fingers moving up and slipping beneath her lace thong.

Beca’s smile is annoying and Chloe knows exactly what she’s thinking: Chloe is way too wet for two minutes of kissing. She’s been enjoying the show. Specifically, Beca’s role in it.

“Fuck,” she quietly laughs, pressing a quick kiss to Beca’s lips before turning her attention back to the performance. She knows they could probably get away with a lot more than Beca’s hand up her skirt, but that’s what makes it fun. The game. Will they get caught? Will the world finally know who Beca’s talented, multi-million-dollar mouth is making come nearly every night?

She feels Beca settle comfortably next to her, one hand lifting her drink to her lips, the other pressing two fingers into Chloe to start fucking her slowly. Chloe hates that she knows Beca’s intentions: if she hadn’t done that, if she’d just kept her fingers teasing Chloe’s clit, she’d be coming in a matter of a few minutes.

But she won’t now, not like this. Not with Beca fucking her almost leisurely, a slow pace that reaches as deep as the angle allows. She hikes up her left knee to prop her foot against the leg of the table and open herself wider. It doesn’t make Beca move any more quickly, but it does help her push deeper.

It makes Chloe’s head tilt back to rest against the booth. She doesn’t need to watch the performance. No one cares. No one’s watching them. The music is loud and Angel is narrating and people are applauding and Chloe lets herself moan.

She slips her arm behind Beca’s shoulders to keep her close, playing with her hair to make her shiver as Scarlet had. But it’s Chloe whom Beca is fucking in public. Not Scarlet. The thought makes her fingers twist and they tug maybe a little too hard on Beca’s hair because she hears her gasp in her ear.

Chloe wonders how long Beca will torture her. She’s so turned on but Beca’s not driving her any closer to her climax. It’s a prolonged plateau and Chloe starts to feel that it’s less about getting her off and more about Beca wanting to do something risque when people know who she is.

It’s not the first time; they’ve snuck off to bathrooms and coat check rooms many times over the years for quick fun, but Beca has never been this bold.

She clenches around Beca’s fingers and feels them curl inside her. She thinks it might encourage Beca to speed up but instead, she pulls out completely.

It makes Chloe’s head snap up, ready to complain about the loss only to open her eyes to Beca sucking on her fingers before she’s clapping enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience and dropping a trio of hundred-dollar bills on the table to tip their waitress.

The show is over and Chloe has no idea how it ended. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is how much she needs to come and how quickly they can get back to their hotel.

People are still clapping when their escort upon arrival appears. “Ladies? Let’s get you out before the mass exodus.”

Beca finishes off her drink and scoots out of the booth, reaching back for a slow-to-move Chloe to take her hand and help her. Chloe isn’t drunk, far from it in fact. But she’s so aroused she’s not thinking very clearly and smiles her appreciation as Beca helps her out and to her feet.

Her mind clears a bit as they walk, though she can feel how wet and swollen Beca’s made her with every step she takes. She’s grateful for the early exit; Beca no longer being anonymous means she is fair game to anyone who can get to her. They’re led not the way they entered but through a side door that drops them right next to the desk where they’d checked in. Phones returned but masks retained, they turn to make their way out of the casino.

“What were you thinking?” Chloe asks as they walk with notable speed through the maze of slot machines following signs pointing toward the exit.

Beca’s smile is really more than a smirk. “Are you complaining?”

Chloe doesn’t really have an answer to that. She’s not complaining. Maybe some notice about being the featured guest would have been nice, but she doesn’t want to talk about celebrity life and privacy right now.

Right now, she needs Beca to finish what she started.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. Then, driven by need and adrenaline and the fact that word has probably not yet spread that Beca Mitchell is in that particular casino and they still have their masks, she pulls Beca aside and up against the side of a bank of slot machines to kiss her.

She wants to do it right there. She wants to tell Beca to kneel like she did for Scarlet and put her head under her skirt and make her scream in front of everyone.

Instead, she kisses Beca hard, tongue and teeth and hands on her ass until it’s Beca who moans this time.

Chloe pulls away abruptly just as Beca had when the show ended and it’s her turn to smirk at how disoriented and aroused Beca looks. “Come on,” she says as she takes her hand and pulls them toward the path to the exit once again.

It takes longer than it should to get back to the Mandalay Bay. If they could manage to make it more than two blocks without someone being pushed against a wall, a planter, or a vending machine to make out, it would only be a fifteen-minute walk.

Instead, they’re finally in the elevator forty-five minutes later behaving themselves because there are three other people riding up with them. They both know they’ll be the last ones off; Beca’s suite is on one of the uppermost floors. It makes Chloe tingle with anticipation because she knows it’s going to be a competition of who does what first as soon as they are alone.

It’s Chloe who wins. The last person steps off and before the doors are even closed, she has Beca against the rear wall of the elevator, tongue in her mouth and hands up her shirt and under her bra. They have six floors to go which is only a matter of seconds but it’s long enough to make Beca say, “God, I need you,” when it ends and the doors open.

They’ve had their share of rushing down hotel hallways to lock themselves in increasingly upscale rooms to ravage one another and this time is no different. It’s a choreographed dance at this point. Chloe’s the one who has the key out and ready because Beca usually can’t find hers or can’t focus long enough to insert it.

Chloe’s able to unlock it by touch at this point because so often she has Beca pressed up against the door, sometimes kissing her, sometimes breathing hotly in her ear while her hand wanders to indecent places. With a quick click, the door swings open and they spill into the palatial suite. It’s a dance as well, removing shoes while careful not to trip over each other or furniture or bags as Beca pulls her mask off and tosses it aside, followed by Chloe’s before she’s pulling Chloe down onto the oversized couch in the center of the room.

“Can’t even wait ‘til we get to bed?” Chloe asks with a smiling kiss before she moves back so she can unbutton Beca’s jeans.

“Whatever,” Beca says. She arches her back and reaches under herself and Chloe watches her strip away her bra, pulling it out through her shirt.

“I was getting to that. No, leave it,” Chloe adds when Beca starts to unbutton the sheer top. It leaves nothing to the imagination, but seeing Beca without her bra, perfect curves and stiff nipples Chloe knows she’ll have her mouth on soon enough… 

Beca stops what she’s doing and instead lifts her hips to help Chloe peel her jeans and underwear away.

“You were trying to make me jealous,” Chloe says matter-of-factly as she yanks the tight jeans from Beca’s feet with a little more force than is necessary.

Beca’s holding herself up on her elbows and she looks entirely too proud of herself. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you let everyone know who you were.” Chloe’s hands start making their way up Beca’s bare legs, parting them to make room so she can back up and lie down between them. She settles Beca’s knees over her shoulders to kiss her inner thigh. It makes Beca shiver and sends hands down to tangle in Chloe’s hair. “And I can’t believe you fucked me.” Another kiss, higher, to make Beca’s breathing quicken. “Anyone could have caught us. Think of the headlines: ‘Beca Mitchell caught red-handed...knuckles deep in her best friend’s sopping pussy.’”

She can tell Beca wants to laugh but it comes out as a moan of impatience instead. Tired of waiting herself, Chloe shifts higher to tease her tongue against Beca’s clit.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Beca groans, pulling hair and lifting her hips as if she’s the one who had been left needing more at the show. Her impatience means Chloe’s done a good job turning the tables on her little stunt.

“Did you like that woman spanking you?” Chloe knows she’s toeing a line. They both might be, but she was jealous. And she is turned on.

Beca’s hesitation is telling and she finally nods when Chloe licks her again. “Yeah.”

“Did you like her telling you what to do?”

The answer is immediate this time. “Yes. Fuck, Chlo, please.” She lifts her hips again wanting more of what Chloe is withholding.

Chloe’s going to come back to the conversation. For now, she has needs and she needs to make Beca come. She’s never been able to resist her long, not when she begs her in that voice, not when she pulls Chloe’s face between her legs pleading Chloe to fuck her.

She’s not going to torture her the way Beca did. She has a second need which is to make Beca finish what she started, but she will deal with one thing at a time.

Beca is wet under her tongue and Chloe wraps her arms around her thighs to hold her, one hand gripping her thigh, the other parting Beca to be able to lick exactly where she knows Beca likes it. Fast. Focused. Exactly what it takes for Beca to— 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come already, I hate you.” She moans as she says it and Chloe can taste the way she’s starting to unravel.

It makes her smile. Beca doesn’t hate her. Not one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact, and Chloe takes pride that it still annoys Beca that Chloe can get her off so quickly. And it’s not that she’s annoyed that Chloe’s good, it’s that she doesn’t want it to end.

(Though rarely does it end after just one orgasm from Beca.)

She savors Beca’s voice in her ears and taste on her tongue and eases her down from her quick, surprisingly intense climax.

Though maybe not so surprising when she thinks about how desperate Beca had been after her little game of Scarlet Says. Which reminds her…

“Get up.” She says it with an edge to her voice as she sits up and moves back from between Beca’s legs.

It’s clear Beca’s startled by the sudden mood change and her eyes are wide as she stares down her half-naked body, chest still heaving as she’s not yet recovered. “Dude, what the fuck?” she bites. She’s not just startled, she’s incensed by Chloe ripping away from her the way she did. It’s not normal behavior by any means.

It’s precarious; Chloe knows it. She’s springing some kind of role-play on Beca without talking about it first and she’s ready to drop it if Beca pushes back again. She levels her gaze to look directly at Beca. “I told you to get up.”

There’s the slightest twitch to Beca’s lips and Chloe knows she’s realized what’s happening. With a nod, she sits up and somewhat tiredly pushes herself up to her feet and turns around to face Chloe.

Chloe eyes her as she gets herself situated on the couch, turning to sit properly and makes a bit of a show of crossing her legs primly. She’s still fully clothed unlike her girlfriend waiting for directions wearing nothing but her half-unbuttoned sheer blouse that stops at her hips.

“I didn’t realize you like being told what to do so much,” Chloe says airly. She wants to keep Beca unsteady. They’ve played with power dynamics in the bedroom before, of course. After this long, there’s not much they haven’t tried. But they had never pushed it to the point of commands and obedience. “I guess I’m not that surprised,” she continues, smiling at memories of how Beca had reacted to simple requests in the bedroom in the past. She hadn’t explored it further. There wasn’t a need to; someone usually came minutes later. Now she understands why.

Beca takes a breath like she’s about to speak but instead snaps her jaw closed.

It makes Chloe’s eyebrows lift. She hadn’t had to do much of anything and Beca has already fallen into her role, primed, no doubt, by the events at the burlesque show.

“Did you like that woman touching you?” she asks. When Beca doesn’t answer, she has to work not to smile. “You can answer me when I ask you a question.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that,” Beca answers. “I thought they were just going to ask me questions and give me a lap dance or something.”

Chloe finds it endearing the way Beca’s trying to defend herself. Chloe’s not upset about it; a hair bothered, maybe, but nothing worth getting mad about. Possessive, though...it’s definitely worth reminding Beca who’s been in her bed every night. “That isn’t what I asked,” Chloe says as she leans back casually. “I asked if you liked it when that woman touched you.”

She can see Beca trying to choose the right words, which is amusingly telling. “It was...fun,” is what she decides to answer.

Chloe looks at her in surprise. “Fun? I’ll show you fun. On your knees.” She snaps and points at the floor as she says it and watches as Beca sinks to kneel obediently on the plush carpet. It’s thrilling to watch and does more for her than she thought it would. “Come here,” she continues with a crook of her finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca says as she shuffles forward until she’s as close as she can be, Chloe’s right leg crossed over the left stopping her from getting any closer. 

Her response is spine-tingling. Chloe wants to draw this out; she wants to see just how obedient Beca can be, but her patience is thin after being so aroused for so long with no release. She can save that for another day. “Would you like to know what I want you to do?” She teases Beca’s bare stomach with her toe as she says it.

“I bet you’re about to tell me,” Beca says as she squirms a little; she’s ticklish there and Chloe knows it.

“Sassy.”

Beca shrugs.

“Let’s give your mouth something better to do.” She uncrosses her legs as she says it and enjoys the way Beca’s eyes fall automatically to look, though Chloe knows she can’t see anything. Not with her skirt resting how it is. “You ruined my underwear at the show. The least you could do is take them off me.”

She can see the way Beca’s eyelashes flutter; she’s excited and ready as she reaches for Chloe, hands sliding up her thighs to hook her fingers into the waistband of Chloe’s thong to pull it down. She lifts her hips to let it slip out from under her and watches Beca pull it the rest of the way down her legs until she’s tossing it over her shoulder with more confidence than someone ordered to her knees ought to have, but Chloe doesn’t mind. Not when Beca’s hands almost reach for Chloe’s thighs again but stops herself and they fall back to her own naked lap.

“So patient,” Chloe smiles. Beca giving up control like this is turning Chloe on far more than she had expected and she knows she isn’t going to last very long. She parts her knees and hikes up her skirt. Not too much. Just enough that Beca will be able to see how much she needs her. “But I’m not.”

Beca’s eyes snap up to meet Chloe’s and she can see the excitement in them, the desire to please Chloe in more ways than one.

“I want you to make me come”—she pauses to glance at her non-existent watch—“in less than five minutes.” When Beca doesn’t move, she adds, “The clock is ticking.”

She can tell Beca is amused by the challenge, even excited by it as her hands do what they had probably meant to do after stripping Chloe of her underwear: land on Chloe’s knees to part them before they slide higher, pushing Chloe’s skirt with them.

Chloe leans back, relaxing into the couch as she spreads her legs wider until she decides to bring her right foot up to rest on the edge of the couch, knee fully bent, holding her ankle to keep it there. It opens her up splendidly and she watches with rapt attention as Beca shifts closer, tongue already at her lips as she leans down.

Chloe can’t help the moan that comes with the first touch of Beca’s tongue. She’s been waiting for it for hours, really since they left the hotel to attend the show. 

Beca seems to take her directive seriously if the way she’s using her tongue is anything to judge by. She’s lapping at Chloe in exactly the way Chloe likes it the most: messy and lewd, her arousal audible in the way her clit slips from Beca’s lips when she sucks on it. She likes it because Beca’s so passionate about making her feel good, and her passion only makes Chloe want it more.

She weaves the fingers of her free hand through Beca’s soft hair, watching as Beca fucks her perfectly. “Just like that,” she sighs as she lets her hips start rocking. “Use your fingers, too, baby.”

They both groan as Beca sinks two fingers into her and she clenches around them. As soon as she relaxes, Beca is fucking her, hard, and it makes her gasp. She hadn’t been ready for that, forgetting for a moment about her self-imposed deadline.

“Beca, fuck,” she moans, ass coming off the couch from the sudden onslaught of pleasure and she watches as Beca ducks her shoulder under the leg Chloe isn’t holding so she can tuck herself even closer. Her fingers twist in Beca’s hair and it might be too tight but it doesn’t seem to bother her. “So good,” she says and feels Beca’s tongue flicking at her clit impossibly faster. “You’re so good,” she repeats and feels her fingers speed up, too.

She knows Beca likes being praised. It’s served them both very well in the past and it’s serving Chloe impeccably well right now. Beca moans at the comment and glances up at Chloe through dark eyelashes, eyes meeting before she closes them to lose herself in fucking Chloe.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with the way Beca starts sucking on her clit and doesn’t let up. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she moans again, grateful for the massive room offering plenty of insulation from the prying ears of the only other room on that floor. “You’re gonna make me come, Beca.”

Beca groans in response and doesn’t change a thing; her pace is relentless and Chloe can feel how hot her body is under her leg from working so hard and she’s so, so grateful for her hard work as her orgasm crashes through her.

Beca’s moaning through it with her and it makes Chloe drop the pretense. She wants Beca. Now. Her cunt is still pulsing around Beca’s fingers when she pulls her up by her hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get the point.

“Come here,” she breathes, pulling Beca in to kiss her wet mouth as she drops her leg back to hang over the edge of the couch and make room for Beca to climb into her lap, straddling her on her knees.

Beca’s hand hasn’t left her with the change in position and though she has less room to move, she’s still working her fingers against Chloe’s overstimulated clit as Chloe reaches between Beca’s legs to slide her fingers into her soaked cunt.

The way Beca moans into Chloe’s mouth through their heated kiss is sinful but not as sinful as the way she immediately starts riding Chloe’s hand. Her hand tangles in Chloe’s hair as her hips roll and grind, all restraint gone as she chases her orgasm.

She’s so far gone that she’s not paying close attention to how hard she’s touching Chloe. It’s borderline painful for a few seconds until something in Chloe clicks and the force becomes delicious and somehow not enough. She grinds the heel of her hand up into Beca, slipping a third finger into her with how wet she’s become, dripping into Chloe’s palm and Chloe knows she’s just as wet. She’s thankful she’s sitting on her skirt. She’d rather pay to dry clean it than reupholster the hotel couch.

“Fuck,” Beca whimpers against Chloe’s lips before her hips suddenly change from riding Chloe’s fingers hard to riding them fast.

Chloe can feel how close she is with the way she’s starting to tremble around her fingers. Beca’s fighting it and she doesn’t know why until she thinks maybe Beca hasn’t dropped the pretense like Chloe had.

She’s waiting for permission.

The concept quickly spools Chloe’s orgasm into a coil ready to spring at any second and she has to fight it, too.

This is hot. This is really hot. She loves when Beca is wild and desperate and there are no other words to describe her right now.

Chloe pulls back from the kiss. “Do you want to come?”

Beca’s jaw drops at the words and Chloe feels her clench hard but the climax doesn’t follow as it normally would. “God, yes,” she exhales after a few seconds. Beca is still fucking them both. Riding Chloe’s fingers. Rubbing Chloe’s clit.

Chloe’s free hand catches Beca’s chin and lifts her head to make eye contact with her. “Ask me nicely.”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt Beca as wet as she is tonight and it doesn’t stop. She thinks she can even feel it increase as soon as she says those words.

“Please,” Beca whines immediately. “Please let me come for you.” She holds Chloe’s stare as she says it and she tightens around Chloe’s fingers again.

Chloe hesitates with her answer. The moment is so intense, so erotic she’s not quite ready to end it. They’re existing on another plane of sex than most of their nights. She hopes it continues through the night.

“Not yet,” she finally answers and Beca almost sobs at the response. “Stand up,” she demands, lifting with the hand between Beca’s legs until Beca’s moving.

“What…?” Beca starts, only to say, “Oh, my God,” when Chloe guides Beca’s left knee up and past her head to rest on the back of the couch.

Chloe pulls her forward with the fingers inside her until she has Beca’s clit against her tongue. Beca’s hands immediately fall to Chloe’s head for balance as she rocks her hips forward into Chloe’s face.

It’s Chloe’s turn to be brutal with the pace of her fingers, fucking up and into Beca as she lets Beca ride her tongue. She knows Beca’s orgasm is going to be massive when she lets her have it and Chloe wants her coming in her mouth.

The change in position bought them a few minutes, distracting Beca long enough that she’s not about to lose it any second but Chloe knows it’s barreling down on her again. “You taste so good,” she says between licks.

Beca moans in answer and Chloe feels the wetness increase again. She can hear it, too. It’s obscene. It sends her other hand between her own legs to pick up where Beca left off.

“I’m going to make myself come,” she says before sucking pointedly on Beca’s clit. “Don’t you dare come with me.”

“What?” Beca laughs somewhat desperately. “Fuck, okay.”

The obedience makes Chloe moan and she fucks herself, rubbing hard circles into her clit. She embellishes her moans to make it even harder for Beca to resist until she’s moaning again and again into Beca’s pussy, coming as Beca clenches around her wantonly. 

She looks up at Beca when it passes but she can���t see her face, not with how Beca’s leaning forward, eyes squeezed closed, face determined and desperate to obey as Chloe comes without her, still fucking her, not letting her let go.

“That felt so good,” she says. “You turn me on so much, Beca.”

“Yeah, same,” Beca answers quickly.

“I think after I let you come…” she says it thoughtfully even as she lavishes attention on Beca’s impossibly swollen clit, “I’m going to take you to bed,” she gives it a long suck, “bend you over,” she curls her fingers and massages them into the spot that makes Beca’s eyes roll back, “and fuck you so hard you’ll feel it at your show tomorrow,” Beca’s entire body is trembling with the need for release, “in front of twelve thousand people and you’ll remember the way you’re going to be such a good girl for me and take my strap all night.”

She knows Beca’s losing her grip on her orgasm. Chloe can feel it starting, pulsing around her fingers and she thinks she might need it as much as Beca does.

“Come for me, Beca,” she says and immediately slides her tongue into her as she withdraws her fingers, using them instead to stroke her clit. She can see Beca’s wetness and how it’s all the way to Chloe’s wrist and she groans as the way Beca’s cunt contracts so hard around her tongue she couldn’t remove it even if she wanted to.

‘Massive’ isn’t the term for it.

Beca’s orgasm is earth-shattering and Chloe’s free hand has to shoot up to press against her chest to keep her from toppling forward and over the back of the couch as it rocks her again and again, voice ringing in Chloe’s ears.

Chloe feels Beca’s knees buckling as it passes and she catches her as she folds until she’s sitting in Chloe’s lap again, slumped against her forehead-to-forehead. Both of them are breathless but Beca’s far more winded and Chloe gives her a chance to recover, hands moving slowly and gently over her back, to her hair which she lifts away from her neck to help her cool down. Her blouse sticks to her skin and she feels kind of bad she didn’t let Beca take it off before, but she hasn’t complained about it.

“Fuck,” Beca finally says with a weak laugh as she lifts her head and sits back enough that they can look at each other comfortably, her hands toying with the hem of Chloe’s shirt, still on despite it all. “What the fuck, Chlo?” She smiles as she says it. She brings her hand up to wipe at Chloe’s face. “You’re a mess.”

Chloe smiles in return and lets Beca clean her off. “Problem?”

Beca cocks her head to the side and huffs again, not quite a laugh. “Uh, no. But can you take this off now? You’re overdressed.” She tugs at Chloe’s shirt and Chloe lets her remove it, lifting her arms so she can slip it over her head.

“Better?” she asks, even though she knows it’s definitely better. Her body is on fire and the cool air is a godsend.

“Much,” Beca says as she tosses Chloe’s shirt aside to rest her hands on her bare shoulders.

“So,” Chloe starts after a few comfortable seconds of silence, hands wandering around Beca’s ass to her waist where she finally finishes unbuttoning Beca’s shirt. “Still think it was fun to be touched by that other woman?” She cocks an eyebrow as she says it.

She knows Beca knows she is the one in control of what happens next; they both know what will happen depending on her answer. One answer will send them to the bedroom and Beca onto all-fours. The other will send them to the shower to clean up while they wait for room service to bring them something to eat.

Beca rakes her hands through her own wild hair after she lets Chloe flip her shirt over her shoulders and off to leave her fully naked in Chloe’s lap. Her eyes are still dark, as are her well-kissed lips which start to curve into a smile. “Yeah, I had a great time. I wonder if she’s free. Maybe we could invite her to join us?”

“Fuck you,” Chloe laughs before kissing her. “Hold on,” she mumbles against her lips and feels Beca wrap her arms around Chloe’s neck and her legs around her waist so she can stand to carry Beca to the bedroom.

“Make me feel it tomorrow,” Beca whispers before kissing her as they cross the threshold into the bedroom.

Chloe drops her onto the bed with a smile. “You will. Turn around.”

The End

[voxofthevoid]

Taking It Up The Ass Isn’t Character Growth - A Rant

So, in response to an ask a while back, I said I had a rant brewing on fandom and sex positions, and well, a lot of you wanted to see it, so here you go. You literally asked for it.

Disclaimer: This is going to talk a lot about top/bottom roles in slash fic and fandom attitude towards them and is heavily filtered through the lens of my own tastes and experiences with fandom. I’d also like to be upfront that I am 100% in favor of people writing whatever fictional content they want, and it’s not what fandom does with characters that bothers me but rather how that translates into attitudes towards real, live people. Also, this is the essay version of a slow burn AU because I regurgitate my entire fandom history before getting to the point. Beware.

I discovered fan-fiction around a decade ago, had no clue what the hell it was, got hooked and dived deeper. I started participating in fandom circa 2013, and I was fairly young and also completely inexperienced both sexually and romantically. The fandom in question was Hannibal and my ship of choice was Hannibal/Will. It was/is a very chill fandom in general, but we had our drama. And chief among the contentious topics was—you guessed it—the top/bottom debate. I can’t actually remember any other topic that was discussed and argued for so ardently in that fandom, at least in those days. Even after I drifted away, I came across a few posts on the matter.

Generally, you had two camps—people who supported strict roles and those who were in favor of switching*. And because we’re a society plagued by illogical assumptions, the strict role camp mostly had people who thought Mr. Big Bad Cannibal in the Fancy Suits wouldn’t take it up the ass because he’s older, more experienced, more mentally stable, and of course, more ‘dominant’ in personality. Yes, that sentence is chock full of problematic shit. I am aware. Lots of people were aware and argued strongly against attributing top/bottom roles to personality. I don’t remember anyone arguing as enthusiastically for Top Will, but those voices were also there. But the general idea was that assigning strict top/bottom roles to a male/male couple was casting them in a heterosexual mold and thus, the progressive option was to make them switch. Strict roles also garnered comparisons to “yaoi” and uke/seme stereotypes, which was of course bad and fetishizing and we, the Western media fans, of course had to do better. Stealth racism is fun to untangle.

Anyway, I lapped up the woke juice. Partly because I was a baby queer from Buttfuck Nowhere, Asia, who had zero exposure to LGBT+ communities and what queer folks did with each other. Partly because it was the stance taken by most of my favorite writers so it seemed like a good position to emulate.

Emulate it I did. Most discussions I had about this happened in private with the handful of close friends I had in fandom. Where it really showed was in my writing. I made sure to write switching—maybe not in every fic, but then I alternated between fics. Thing is though, I did have a preference. I liked Top Will. I created and consumed a ton of Top Hannibal, and sometimes it was okay, sometimes it was not, but I couldn’t pinpoint why it made me uncomfortable. Back then, I thought I was a cis questioning/bi girl and once again, the impression I got was that not being MLM, having a preference was automatic fetishization. So I tried my best to justify my preferences, to my friends at least. I think what I said was that fandom was skewed towards Top Hannibal, and I liked the opposite because I’m a contrary fuck. Which I am, to be fair, but this was just me desperately trying to figure shit out without being offensive.

That’s the line I touted all the way until 2018, which was when I fucked off to grad school in A City, finally freed of Buttfuck Nowhere and able to actually date. At this point, I was settled in my sexuality (girls only) and questioning my gender (non-binary or trans guy). I had also tentatively figured out during undergrad that I’m an exclusive top and a Dom. Actual attempts at dating cemented that, yes, those are my preferences, about as flexible as a steel rod. Cue motherfucking epiphany over my fanfic tastes.

And see, over these years, I was engaging intermittently with fandom. I dutifully wrote switch couples. I also continued to have rigid tastes and continued to explain it away as being a contrary fuck—to be fair, until Steve/Bucky, my preference did seem to be the opposite of the larger fandom preference. But correlation, as we know, isn’t causation. Until Steve/Bucky, I continued to write versatile couples because I honestly didn’t have the guts to just say I liked it just one way. I do now but even then, I feel compelled to add that it’s because I want to see my own taste reflected in fic, so I write/read the character I relate to as a top, it's not that deep etc. Would I be as forthright if I didn’t have that reason? Would I have such strict preferences in fic if I didn’t have strict preferences IRL? The latter’s a mystery, but the former isn’t—I wouldn’t be because fandom is still entrenched in the same ideas that got me to this point to begin with.

In every fandom I’ve been in, I’ve seen some version of this debate go around. Sometimes, it’s one party saying “why would you write Character X as a bottom, he’s so Reason A” and a reblog chain that insults the OP and/or extols the virtues of switching. Sometimes, it’s a general-ish message that says they don’t understand why people have strict preferences when we all know real gay couples switch. Sometimes, it’s blanket statements that accuse anyone with preferences of fetishizing. Sometimes, it’s the same reasoning that gets you “Character Y is a top because of Reason B” transposed on versatile couples except this takes the form of “they switch because they’re equals.”

Ya’ll, I’m fucking tired.

I have long since lost count of the number of stories I’ve seen where an exclusive top learning bottom and liking it is character growth. Where a character who prefers to bottom taking a turn on top is empowering.

Isolated, these are fine. But I’ve seen enough of such stories that it’s distinctly discomfiting and a major squick. Sometimes a trigger, if I'm too immersed in the story. I’m not going to try and burn an author at the stake because they pissed me off. I am just going to close that window and quietly handle my shit. People can write whatever they want. But this one theme hits too close to home, as you can see from this 1.6k rant.

My friend (also my ex-girlfriend) and I had an all-out bitching session about this the other day. Both of us are kinky fuckers who have rigid, complementary roles we prefer and we have both had our grueling days of struggling to reconcile our sexual tastes with our ideologies precisely because of how these things are frowned upon in conservative and progressive circles. Seeing that in fandom, of all places, is both insulting and exhausting. Topping and bottoming aren’t personality traits. Neither is D/s. It’s sexual preference and power play. It really does not have to be that deep. I am not exorcising childhood trauma using the bodies of women. My partners, former and current, have not been brainwashed by the patriarchy. We will not become better, more complete individuals once I magically stop being a stone top and my partners embrace the joys of a strap-on.

I have, with my own two eyes, seen someone say that in a really committed relationship, of course the couple will switch.

Bullshit.

It’s transparent bullshit. This does not get attributed to cisgender M/F couples. Even when the automatic assumptions of woman = bottom and man = top get addressed, switching isn't presented as the default. No one’s saying “oh, if you really love your husband, you’ll peg him”. I do know butch/femme sapphic couples get their own share of shit. Because it’s all heteronormativity, right? Can’t have any other reason for top/bottom roles.

You have two extremes with “so who’s the woman” on one end and “it’s woke only if they switch” on the other, and as far as I’m concerned, they’re equally damaging. There shouldn’t be a pressure, however subtle, to conform your taste in fiction to some arbitrary idea of progressiveness. People are going to like whatever they want anyway; all this does is create an atmosphere where those likes can’t always be freely expressed without a lot of mental gymnastics. We’re seeing so many versions of this in the pushback against so-called problematic content, but smaller, subtler versions exist too.

Fictional characters aren’t real. They can be whatever you want them to be. And yes, other people will often want them to be the exact opposite of your ideas, but that’s just how things work. Meanwhile, the people behind these usernames? They’re real. No one should be throwing real people under the bus to ‘protect’ characters that don’t exist. Hannibal Lecter doesn’t care whether he gets fucked or dismembered in Author B’s fanfiction, but the discourse that surrounds the dick up his ass? That does affect flesh and blood people.

I am not claiming that this is the only attitude in fandom. Middlegrounds do exist. Plenty of people abide by fic and let fic and there are folks who pipe up to say not every RL queer couple switches. But it’s often the extremes that reach most people. That was certainly my experience, and I’m not the only one.

I don’t really know how to end this post. It is 100% a rant and one that’s been building up for a while. Bottom line is that people’s sexual behavior varies wildly and whenever you attack sexual tastes in fanfic by saying it’s unrealistic - or worse because let’s be real, that’s a very tame word choice - please remember that there’s likely someone out there who practices it.

* I’m using switch and versatile synonymously in this post. It’s mostly concerned with top/bottom debates. A lot of what I’m saying is also echoed in portrayals of and discussions surrounding D/s dynamics, but I’m not addressing that as much for now.  

[rwby-redux]

Transcribed from a video uploaded by Talks at Google, of a presentation given by David J. Peterson on his book, “The Art of Language Invention.”

The following transcription is from part of the Q&A segment, where David Peterson addresses an audience member’s question of whether or not TV shows should use endangered minority languages in place of constructed languages. Because of how this issue pertains to both RWBY’s canon and the Redux, I chose to reference his answer in Worldbuilding: Languages, and provide readers with a written version of their exchange for ease-of-access.

-

Audience Member: So, every year, you know, we lose dozens, maybe hundreds, of human languages to extinction, and we lose the cultural payload with them. How do you feel about the ethics of conlangs going into—people running around, geeking out on Klingon, when we’re losing real human languages that they could be learning. And why do you not consider using obscure human languages for some of these shows? Bring them back a little bit. Give them a new life. Make people aware of them, rather than artificial languages.

David Peterson: Let me ask you this—how do you feel about people getting really, really excited about novels like The Hunger Games, which are stories about fake people, when we’re losing the stories of real people every day that are dying?

Audience Member: Honestly, I think that’s sort of false analogy. We have—and I admit I come from a very specific basis on this. But I guess I would say, how do you feel about ISIS destroying antiquities when we could make new stuff?

David Peterson: I’m sorry, say the last part?

Audience Member: How do you feel about ISIS destroying antiquities when we could make new stuff? That’s equivalent to yours. Is it—and I’m not saying what you’re doing is wrong—

David Peterson: [laughing] You’re saying that I’m destroying natural languages in order to produce—

Audience Member: I’m not saying you’re destroying natural languages. I’m saying, could we not use some of the energies that people go into learning conlanguages, geeking out about conlanguages, going to Klingon conventions. I’ll tell you, I got very annoyed when I see—I saw even here at Google recently, people talking about looking for Klingon resources to do something in Klingon, and it’s like great, but let’s put that effort to saving a real language because when we lose those languages—when the last speaker dies—it’s never coming back as a living language.

David Peterson: Yeah, so, of course—and in fact, if they weren’t going to be doing Klingon they would be doing the other thing, right?

Audience Member: That’s how it ends.

David Peterson: So let’s stop—

Audience Member: You could use real human languages for some of these—

David Peterson: You certainly could. Yeah. We could have found a—for example, we could have found some very rarely spoken language and given it to the barbaric Dothraki, who are ripping people’s tongues out. How would that have been?

Audience Member: I wasn’t necessarily saying Dothraki.

David Peterson: Okay. Okay, but that’s actually the issue that comes up. For example, there are a lot of languages that are dying out right now. Not the majority of them, but certainly a minority of them, that are dying because the speakers don’t want other people to use their language. They don’t want people to write it down. They don’t want foreigners speaking them. Do we respect that? Do we just kind of sigh and let the language die out and respect the wishes of these people who don’t want contact with the outside world? It’s a different kind of ethical question. But personally, there are two ways of looking at it. One, artistically, if you’re talking about a totally fictional reality, it breaks the reality to use a language that actually is spoken by other people on Earth. It’s kind of an odd thing. I always find it odd when people are speaking English when they oughtn’t to be, like Amadeus. I mean, it was a fantastic movie. It was a fantastic movie, but honestly why were they speaking English? Especially like, I don’t know. Well, it’s actually kind of a bizarre thing of movies that we think British English would have been better than American English.

[Audience laughs.]

David Peterson: I mean it wouldn’t, it’s the same thing, but I don’t know. So artistically, it simply breaks [the immersion], and honestly, there’s no alternative here. The alternative to using creative language in Defiance was English. They were never, ever going to consider using any other natural language, or the expense involved in finding somebody to translate into those languages. And then furthermore if you think about, especially some very—some minority languages that aren’t spoken very well—by very many people—and you start to translate some of the dialogue in Defiance. For example, this sentence that I showed you about the chlorine gas [from earlier during the presentation]. Odds are that Pirahã doesn’t have a word for chlorine. So then it’s a question of what you do. It seems doubtful that you could get a speaker up there [to a studio] who would have to learn and understand English well enough and perform on a deadline to be able to translate into it, so you need somebody else. And undoubtedly they would have to create words. They would have to create words either by working with native roots, or have a whole load of English borrowings in there, or worse, create words—they kind of look like the real language—and use them in those scripts. Which to me seems really offensive. Essentially you’re creating words to plunk down into somebody’s actually-existing language. You’re not a part of the culture, and you’re saying, “Well, we’re going to represent this as a word in your language for the purposes of this television show.” I just can’t see that being a good idea.

[Pause.]

David Peterson: On a separate note, if you just kind of remove the created language aspect entirely—the fact, of course, that there are dying languages is terrible. It’s a question of what can you do as an outsider in order to either prevent it, or to preserve those languages. I’m not sure how a lot of speakers of minority languages would feel if there were, say, a bunch of teenagers from southern California who started to learn their language just because they thought it was cool, and funky, and it was for these quirky people in this show. That, at least for me, would make me feel a little uncomfortable. So I think that the sentiment is well-founded. I don’t think that the solution you presented is a good one, or feasible, or necessarily respectful. I also think that for standard preservation of languages there are people that are trained to do that. It’s not an easy thing. And of course I know them, and in fact have studied under them coming through linguistics. It’s not just something that anybody can do. And it takes a lot of work with the culture, and having worked with Hollywood a bunch, it’s a lot of work that I know that nobody would be interested in doing. They wouldn’t be interested in paying for it, they wouldn’t be interested in taking the time with it, because they have deadlines and they’re doing what they’re going to do. I’m not sure if that answered every single aspect of your question, but if not, I’m happy to talk about it further because this is an issue that comes up every single time created languages are discussed. So thanks.

-

Talks at Google. “The Art of Language Invention | David Peterson | Talks at Google.” YouTube video. August 24, 2015. 47:59 - 54:32. [https://youtu.be/Z50T-tslrgs?t=2869]

[spooks-and-tea]

Entangled (Spencer Reid x femReader) [Ch.3]

Summary: You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were watching Criminal Minds, and the next moment you were literally in the show. Can Spencer be the key to helping you find your way back home?

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of su*cide, bad explanations of quantum mechanics, sexual situations(some non-con), the usual criminal minds-type content

A/N: Thank you for loving this and leaving lovely comments<3 I’m literally only writing it out of boredom and wanting to make quarantine a little better for you guys. Sorry this chapter is so dialogue heavy! I like writing dialogue! Spencer says interesting things! 

Word Count: 3,526

Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.

************************************************************************

In most fiction, a character wakes up confused, with little memory of where they are. You never understood that scenario. In what situation do you spend the night at a friend's house and wake up confused? Surely you have some memory of the night before. You figured it was just a work of fiction, a plot device writers used to make a character reflect on a situation.

That was what you thought... until you woke up in a fictional apartment.

You woke up with a killer headache, sore limbs, and a sore throat. The full package, lucky you. You thought maybe you had drank a little too much the night before, after all 27 is a far cry from 21.

I'm getting old.

You stretched your aching limbs and slowly opened your eyes. Laying on your side, your eyes settled on the analytical gaze of none other than Spencer Reid.

"Holy shit!" You screamed, jumping back and startling the hell out of Spencer. You ungracefully flailed as you teetered on the edge of the bed, body about to fall off. Spencer quickly reached out and pulled your elbow, leveraging your weight back onto the bed just in time.

You clutched the sheets, grabbing your bearings, while silently taking in the situation.

"Are you alright?!" Spencer asked, catching his breath.

"Just peachy." You deadpanned.

I'm in bed with Spencer Reid. God, why does he look so hot with bedhead hair?

Spencer gave you a wry smile before breaking out into laughter. You glared at him, but his laughter made you smile. It was nice to hear him laugh.

"I don't understand how you can be so calm about this. Imagine getting sucked into my world where you have to be an actor that plays yourself."

"Well, hypothetically speaking, if that were to happen I would be overqualified."

You rolled your eyes and got out of bed, but not before noticing the coffee and woodsy-vanilla scent. You'd smelled that before.

"Do you want breakfast? I know a good café near your place." Spencer stood to stretch. 

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, that's fine." You stared at the bed, trying to place that smell.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just- a smell. Your bed smells like you. It's familiar. From before."

To a normal person, your words would sound weird. But to Spencer? Well, they piqued his interest.

"You've smelled me before?" He asked, curiously. You nodded, looking up to see he had moved around the bed to stand in front of you.

"In a dream. Just before waking up here. Before we even met."

"Smell is a powerful memory trigger. Do you remember the split? When your reality entangled with mine?"

"I remember some of it."

"Maybe we should try something to help you remember," he considered. "Close your eyes and think of where you were when reality split."

You closed your eyes, taking yourself back to the memory of that place. You heard Spencer step closer, stopping in front of you.

You felt his breath against your cheek.

"You said the smell was familiar. What did it smell like?" Spencer spoke, softly.

"L-like you. Coffee and a woodsy vanilla," you stuttered, clenching the hem of the shirt Spencer had lent you. You were sure if you opened your eyes, Spencer would be mere centimeters away from you.

"Good. Focus on that. Were your eyes open or closed?"

"Open. My eyes are open." You fell into present tense as you immersed yourself in the memory.

"How do you feel?"

"Weightless. There's no gravity, gravity doesn't matter here. There's also something tugging. It's pulling me somewhere. It's pulling from here." You placed your hand on your chest. "It feels like a magnet, a super strong force."

"Look around. Do you see anything?"

"Yes, I see lights and- and they're moving all around me."

"What colors are the lights?"

"Every color, even colors I've never seen before. We can't see them here. I-I can't explain it, but it's beautiful."

"Can you hear anything?"

"Humming, like a television static. Crackling electricity and-and then a loud snap, like someone snapping their fingers."

"What's happening? Do you see anything else?"

You nodded.

"Curtains opening, red, velvet and soft. I'm traveling through them and they're all around me, like a tunnel. I'm being pulled through. Pulled towards the other end of the magnet, the other half. I know this. I'm sure of it. The other half is reaching out to me. Oh god, what if I can't reach it?" You distantly felt a tear run down your cheek. Your body was leaning forward more and more as you remembered, as if following the pull you remembered feeling.

"It's far away," you whispered, feeling the magnetic pull in your chest now.

"Reach out for it."

You leaned forward more and more following the pull until the dream was suddenly interrupted. 

"Y/N." Spencer's fingertips brushed against your cheek, his voice barely a whisper.

You slowly came back to reality, opening your eyes.

Spencer was hardly a centimeter away from you, his lips ghosting so close to yours. Your hand lay flat against his chest, keeping you upright.

Both of you stayed silent, eyes half-lidded, listening to each other's soft breaths, and not daring to move. If you lifted your head just a bit you could brush your lips against his.

Spencer licked his lips, beginning to turn his head and close his eyes.

Then, as if this were a bad rom-com Spencer's phone ringtone went off. You both jumped apart.

Spencer avoided your eyes, leaving the room to find his phone which had otherwise been forgotten after last night's reveal.

You stared at the doorway, breathing heavily. You could hear your heartbeat, as if it were screaming out for him to come back and kiss you.

Had he actually wanted to kiss you? He let you unknowingly come close to it before even bringing you out of your memory. Up until yesterday, his false memories had told him you two were just friends. Did he actually like you, or was he just intrigued by you?

Spencer returned to the room, still avoiding your eyes. His body was stiff.

"That was JJ, she was just checking in on you. She said you didn't answer your phone, so you probably forgot it at home again."

"Spencer, I don't even know where I live," you spoke, carefully.

"Oh, right. You're not the same person I remember," Spencer frowned, "I can show you where you live."

You stayed silent, feeling a little hurt from his comment, though it was true. Did he want to kiss you, or the you he falsely remembered? Did he miss this false-memory version of you?

Spencer stared at his bed, lost in thought. You fought the urge to reach out and smooth the crease between his brows.

"What are you thinking, Spence?"

He shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

"I think there are some things in this world we just can't explain."

"Hmm that doesn't sound very 'Spencer Reid' of you to say." You tried to joke, anything to lighten the mood.

"You only know the parts of me you've seen on tv," he smiled, sadly. "You know it's funny, I know so much about you, and these false memories convinced me that we're friends, but I don't really know you either, do I?"

"I'd like to know you." You quickly spoke your thoughts.

Spencer sighed, finally turning his head to meet your eyes.

"I'd like to know you too."

************************************************************************

"Come on, Impossible Girl, let's go get some food."

You blushed as you followed him out of his home, adjusting your now-dry old clothes from the previous day. You had used Spencer's shower, loving the, now familiar, vanilla-scented shampoo. His fans would probably kill to know the exact smell, you giggled.

"Hey, is that nickname from Doctor Who?"

"Yup." Spencer smiled, adjusting his tie.

You knew he didn't like to drive, but for the time being he was the one driving your car since you had no sense of direction here.

He first took you to a café and treated you to a bagel and some heavenly mixture of french vanilla and coffee. You both sat at a table in the back next to the window and people watched. Spencer profiling a few passerby for you.

"How am I going to return to work? I don't know anything about profiling, other than watching you spout out facts on the show." You joked.

"I think you'll catch on. You're smart. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll try to cover for you whenever I can. Maybe your acting skills will come in handy."

You snorted out a laugh.

"At least, in this new life, I got the part. Kind of sad I won't be meeting Matthew Gray Gubler though." You joked, watching Spencer fake offense.

"We should leave now if we want to stop at your place first. Don't want Hotch firing you on your first real day."

You rolled your eyes with a smirk and followed him out.

Spencer parked in front of a high-end apartment block. Leading you through a squeaky clean lobby. There were elevators, but Spencer told you that you were on the second floor anyways so you might as well take the stairs. You were already wondering how you could afford an apartment in such a nice building. He unlocked your door at the end of the hall and led you inside, flipping on the light-switch.

Your jaw dropped.

"You have got to be kidding me," you breathed.

"Welcome home." Spencer said through a tight-lipped smile, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn't look surprised, he looked comfortable, like he'd seen this place a hundred times before.

You walked further inside, mouth agape. A chandelier hung from the entryway and a staircase wound up to the left. To your right was a grand piano and two armchairs surrounding a couch and television. Large floor to ceiling windows with red velvet curtains lined the wall near the piano. You brushed your fingers over the keys of the piano that probably cost more than you had in your old bank account and assets combined. Spencer lingered behind you as you peered through an archway leading to the next room. This room contained the kitchen, every appliance looked brand new. The room also had another floor length window, and French doors that led out to an enclosed balcony that was bathed in natural light and plants. You couldn't believe there was more, and you hadn't even walked up the stairs yet.

Spencer lingered behind you, looking around and smiling at your reactions.

Just past the kitchen, another set of French doors gave way to the dining room which contained a large table lined with chairs. Art hung all around. Circling back to the main entry and, you guessed, living room, your eyes trailed up the stairs.

"Spencer, this can't be my apartment, I'm not even sure I can call it an apartment;  it's the size of the entire second floor of this building! There's no way I can afford this." The place was gorgeous, it was like something out of a movie.

"As I understand it, your father left you a large sum of money when he passed away; he left everything to you. You made some good business choices and bought this place," he smiled to himself as he explained. "That didn't stop you from pursuing your own career at the BAU, though. You also donate to plenty of charities every year."

"But my father was a fisherman. He caught and sold fish at a little shop in my hometown."

Spencer frowned, "maybe where you're from, but here he was the CEO of a large company."

"How did he die?" You nearly whispered.

"He drowned. He was on a fishing trip, your mother was with him. A storm caught the small crew by surprise. There were no survivors." Spencer spoke softly, nearing you.

"My mother," you swallowed back all of the emotions that were building up.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

You shook your head. "No, it's okay. I just wish I had a chance to meet my mom. For me, she died when I was very young, too young to remember her."

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You sniffled and hugged him back, welcoming the comfort you found in his arms.

"This is all so different. Would I sound crazy if I said I wanted to go back to your place?"

Spencer ran his hand up and down your back. "No, it actually makes sense. My apartment's familiar to you. You can stay the night again, if you want, but I don't think-"

"Y/N? Is that you?" A man's voice echoed from behind you. Startled, you clutched Spencer's shirt, though he tried to step away from you.

You looked up at the top of the staircase to find a shirtless stranger leaning against the railing.

"Um. Yes?" You answered in a questioning manner.

The man turned and started to descend the stairs.

"Spence, who is that?" You whispered, nervously. The man looked like a model with abs straight out of a catalogue.

"That's Chris. He's your-"

You stiffened as Chris pulled you against his chest. Your eyes widening as he kissed you, taking advantage of your surprise by sticking his tongue down your throat. Everything in you wanted to push him away.

"-boyfriend." Spencer mumbled.

When he pulled away you almost wanted to cry because Spencer had just watched a strange man make out with you. You didn't kiss him back, but Spencer couldn't see that from where he stood.

"Where have you been? I tried calling, but you left your phone on the kitchen counter."

"I-uh. I slept over at Spencer's."

"Why would you do that?"

"Um-"

"She had a long day at work, I offered to help her with some of her paperwork at my place and we sort of lost track of time, so she decided to stay the night. I let her take the couch." Spencer saved you an explanation. The ease at which he told the lie making you raise your eyebrow.

"Oh. Hey Spencer. How's it going, man?" Chris turned his attention away from you, but kept an arm around your waist. He reached out and roughly pat Spencer's shoulder. You held your breath, knowing Spencer hated when people he didn't know well touched him.

"It's going- it's going good." Spencer gave him a tight-lipped smile, lowering his head to look at his shoes.

"Good to hear. Hey, do you mind if I talk to her upstairs for a second?" Chris asked, pointing his thumb at the stairs.

"N-no."

"Good man!" Chris laughed, patting Spencer's shoulder once more. He led you up the stairs by your waist. You turned your head as you walked, giving Spencer a pleading look.

He turned his gaze to look out the window with an unreadable expression.

Chris led you through the first door, closing it behind you. You looked at the room, it must have been the master bedroom as a 4 poster king sized bed sat in the middle, floor-length mirrors and art lined the walls, and you could see another door at the end of the room most likely leading to a bathroom. It was all gorgeous, of course, but it wasn't as cozy looking as Spencer's quaint room. There wasn't a random scattering of books on the bedside table, or along the walls. If it wasn't for the rumpled sheets, you wouldn't believe anyone actually slept in here.

"You know I hate it when you spend the night at his place. I miss having you here, with me, baby."

Chris wrapped his arms around your middle, running his pinky along the skin just below your shirt hem. You had to admit, the man was drop-dead gorgeous, with baby blue eyes, a toned, muscular figure, and a complexion that glowed. He honestly wasn't the kind of man you'd normally go for. He was too perfect, like a manufactured person.

There was nothing about him, no small flaws to dote over, no inflection in his voice that raised the hairs on your skin. Who were you kidding? He just wasn't Spencer. Real life flesh and blood Spencer Reid, waited for you downstairs, with his unruly, wavy hair and dark eyes, and the way he did that thing where he scrunched his nose.

Busy thinking about Spencer, you failed to notice Chris trailing kisses down your neck. Your body tensed and you squirmed. He was a complete stranger to you, though technically your boyfriend.

"Mmm. I had to take care of myself while you were gone, but I imagined you. When you're on your knees begging for me, you know that's my favorite." Chris nipped at your earlobe. You had to admit, you moaned a little, that was one of your favorite things. Only someone you had been with before would know that.

"I-I have to get dressed for work now, or I'll be late," you stammered.

Chris chuckled and winked, seductively.

"I see, well I can help you with that." He started to lift your shirt. You took this moment to slide out of his grasp.

"Um, maybe show me in the closet?" You didn't want to have to explain why you didn't know where the closet was.

Chris grinned, and opened the door you thought was a bathroom. It revealed a walk in closet, lined with mostly your clothes, but some were definitely his. You felt like a kid in a candy shop as you ran your fingers along the racks.

You forced yourself to calm down and chose the first outfit you saw, you really were going to be late for work and you didn't want Spencer to get in trouble.

You retreated behind a changing divider, hanging the outfit on the divider. You quickly removed your shirt and pants, happy to finally be out of the old clothes. You felt arms around you, Chris had returned.

"Sure you don't want to take the day off? I could get rid of Spencer and we can spend the rest of the day in bed." Chris kissed your cheek. Man, why was this man so horny?

You frowned as he mentioned Spencer, talking about him as if he was nothing more than an inconvenience. You didn't know Chris, and you didn't want to judge him too harshly just because he wasn't the man downstairs, but he was certainly making it difficult to like him.

"Remind me how long we've been together, again?" You asked, distracting him as you pulled on a new outfit, a simple shirt and work pants combo with a trench jacket to shield you from the rain that was sure to start up again later. 

"About 2 months, why?"

You breathed a sigh of relief. Good, it hadn't been that long.

"No reason. Look I really should get going. I'l see you later, yeah?" You quickly made your way out of the room, waving goodbye.

You practically jogged down the stairs, feeling suffocated by the strange environment and strange man upstairs. Spencer still stood looking out one of the windows with one hand in his pocket and the other fidgeting at his work bag strap.

"Spencer," you whispered loudly, looking over your shoulder to see if Chris had followed you out. Luckily he chose to stay in bed by himself. You cringed at the thought of having to sleep in that bed beside him.

You fast walked to the front door, making sure you had your wallet on you.

Spencer turned around and almost looked amused at you trying to sneak out of your own house.

He followed you out and down the hall. You finally felt like you could breath.

"When were you going to tell me I had a boyfriend?!" You scolded him.

"He didn't cross my mind. Oh and here, I grabbed your cell for you while you were upstairs." Spencer held out your phone, you pocketed it knowing it was most likely dead and you'd have to find a charger at work.

"How on earth was any of that real? I just got here yesterday!"

"You're asking me like I should know how all of this works. I might be a genius, but even I don't know everything." Spencer smirked. "If I had to guess, I'd say the longer you're here, the more canon to the universe you're becoming."

"Chris is awful Spencer. I would never go for a guy like that," you sighed.

"You just met the guy. I don't know him well, but he certainly can compete in an ab contest with Morgan. And you have been together for 2 months, my memory tells me. 2 months has got to count for something."

You couldn't help but laugh at his observation.

"I really don't want to come back here after work." You groaned, getting into the passenger seat of your car.

"Is it really that bad? Your boyfriend's a clothing model and your home is worth millions. Some people would kill to have your life."

"Well it's a good thing we catch those people, then."

Spencer rolled his eyes, starting up the engine.

"Work will definitely be interesting today."

Next Chapter

[greywardenaspasia]

As a fanfiction writer nothing is more discouraging... and frankly, annoying... than someone coming up on you on a rant of how such-and-such character would “never do that” or “never say that.”

It’s happened to me twice, once when I was in my early twenties writing Gilmore Girls (lmao) fanfiction and once while writing Dragon Age fanfiction.

And, like, here’s the thing...

I understand being mildly irritated if someone wrote something outlandishly “out of character” that someone would never do, like a nice character murdering someone out of nowhere with no remorse. Sure, if it’s set up with sufficient character motivations and a descent from morals, I could see it happening.

But if it’s not introduced with anything like that, it can be jarring.

It takes you out of a fanfic and most people I know can’t enjoy content like that. That’s fine! Personally, I’ve come across fics where someone is too out of character in my eyes and it breaks my immersion and you know what I do? 

I click away and read something else! 

Because even though it isn’t my cup of tea, it’s certainly someone’s. At the very least, it’s the author’s cup of tea that they labored and gave life to, and they were kind and brave enough to share it with the world. I think that deserves respect.

Also!

Here is another thing to think about:

When we consume media, in most cases we do not get a stream of consciousness from characters. We don’t hear their internal thoughts, we don’t get told blatantly what their emotions are or what their motivations are or what their intentions are. 

We only see what they end up saying or what they end up doing. A lot of time, these motivations and desires are up to interpretation, just as they are in real life. 

Let’s say in real life, you end up speaking in front of a group of people and a flicker of irritation goes across your friend’s face when you say a certain thing.

Are they irritated because you said the Thing? Are they irritated at themselves because they did not think to say the Thing and now they’re regretting it? Are they lost in thought and thinking of something completely irrelevant, like how they left their wet socks in the washing machine that morning and now they’ll be smelly when they return home?

Certainly, you can ask them why they looked so irritated during your speech but are they going to tell you the truth? Or maybe they edit it politely so you don’t get the full story of what the offense was.

My point is that you have a general idea of who someone is, how they reacted, what their emotions are, but you can’t ever be sure. And a lot of this is open to interpretation, so a lot of characterization is open to interpretation as well.

Someone on my Jess fanfic got mad because he was watching a video of Rory’s graduation and was making comments through it. “Jess would never speak through Rory’s graduation video! He would put all attention on it because he missed it! Jess would never do this, I’m sorry!” Someone wrote me a very long comment ten years ago. 

I stopped writing! 

I never updated the rest of that fanfic because I was so embarrassed because I believed them. I thought I had come to know Jess’ character very well but apparently I was wrong! I almost deleted the fic.

I’m older now and frankly, I give less fucks. I’ll write a character how I think they are and if that version is close enough to your head-canon version of a character and how you interpreted what thoughts and actions we were presented in whatever media they came from, then please enjoy. 

If it’s too far for you to enjoy and breaks your immersion because you have a different picture of who that character is in your head, then feel free to move on.

If you leave a comment, I’m not changing my fanfic. I’m not apologizing and re-writing the scene. I will write however I want, I upload it to the internet as a courtesy, and if you don’t like it then you should just move on and find something you do like.

[chibimuiwritesstuff]

MMA Fighters HuaLian - Meeting

Right. I’m just going to post this. The backstory to the Hualian MMA AU idea I thought up of how they initially met. This is not edited btw, so apologies for any errors.

----

They meet in a match.

Xie Lian has met many people in matches before, he is one of the best MMA fighters out there after all, so usually he doesn’t remember most of his opponents—but he remembers this one. He remembers him because he is tall (not an issue), lanky (he’s experienced enough to know skinniness doesn’t mean lack of strength), has an eyepatch covering his right eye (a handicap?) and is absolutely, ridiculously, unfairly, gorgeous.

The referee counts to three, the whistle blows, and Xie Lian tenses and is surprised when the other man barely moves a muscle. Just looks at him, expression unreadable. There’s an intensity to his gaze, but it’s not the usual look of a fellow fighter preparing to attack, it’s… it’s something else. It unsettles Xie Lian for a moment, makes his heart beat just a bit faster, but, well, if his opponent will not make the first move then that’s their mistake.

A rookie perhaps?

He launches forward and feels his heart sing when the man not only catches his blow, but dodges to the side in a way that looks effortless, but Xie Lian knows speaks of unbridled skill. Not a rookie then.

Not a rookie at all in fact.

The match is one of the toughest Xie Lian has had in ages. The other man is incredibly defensive and catches Xie Lian’s punches, kicks and feints blow for blow, although rarely making an effort to strike out himself. It’s mildly frustrating, somewhat confusing, and incredibly invigorating. It’s fun. It’s a joy Xie Lian hasn’t truly felt in a fight in ages. He dances around and is somewhat glad for the mask he wears so no one can see the ridiculously large smile he can feel stretching across his face. This is why he loves martial arts. This is why he loves fighting. So that he can dance with people like the man in front of him.

He’s almost sad when he finally manages to pin the other man on the ground for a count of three, and the referee blows the whistle again.

‘Winner, give it up for The Crown Prince!’

The referee holds his hand up, but Xie Lian can’t take his eyes off his opponent, who by this point is already sitting up and also looking back at Xie Lian as well. He looks unphased, unruffled. He does not look like a man who has just lost a fight. In fact, the small smile on his face somehow makes it seem like he was the winner of this match somehow.

His is registered under the fighter name ‘Crimson Rain Sought Flowers’. The people in the mixed martial arts underground call him Hua Cheng.  

Xie Lian remembers him and looks forward to the day he might be able to fight him again.

-

It takes another year before Xie Lian is able to meet Hua Cheng again—and it’s not for lack of trying. After their one match he had tried to seek him out, find out more information about this mysterious opponent who had stepped into the ring and fought with Xie Lian like he had just decided to do it on a whim, but there was nothing. There had been no previous fight records, and no fights he had signed up for afterwards. It was truly as if he had just appeared to fight Xie Lian and then left.

Mu Qing had commented dryly that maybe he had scared the other man off, as he did to so many other earnest newcomers, but Xie Lian didn’t see how that was possible. Hua Cheng had not been a rookie fighter, and Feng Xin had agreed on this as well. But, whatever the reason—Hua Cheng had never reappeared until now.

Once again Hua Cheng stands before him looking deceptively relaxed. If Xie Lian were anyone else he might have felt insulted. After all, he had won their last fight—Hua Cheng should look at least somewhat wary. But he doesn’t. Instead something about his expression makes Xie Lian feel like he’s just as excited for this match as Xie Lian is himself. Xie Lian smiles under his mark, forgetting for a moment that Hua Cheng can’t see his face. It’s nice, to face an opponent who not only isn’t intimidated by him, but appears just as excited and actually has the skill to back up their own air of confidence.

Xie Lian’s heart skips a beat as he catches Hua Cheng’s single eye and can’t help but shiver in anticipation of the match to come.  

The whistle blows, and this time Xie Lian waits. He wants to see what Hua Cheng will do, but Hua Cheng does nothing. In fact, the both of them stand still for so long, the audience begins boo-ing and Xie Lian’s mounting excitement begins to curl into confusion, and then into frustration.

Hua Cheng merely raises an eyebrow, “What is gege waiting for?” he drawls, smirking.

“I could ask you the same question.” Xie Lian replies.

Hua Cheng nods his head, as if he’s considering Xie Lian’s words very seriously, “Hm… that’s true.” And then he launches himself forward.

Xie Lian had been prepared, this is what he had wanted after all, but it shows just how skilled Hua Cheng is that for a second Xie Lian can’t track his movements at all and he is hit with a spike of surprise. It is only through muscle memory, born from hours and hours of training, that allows Xie Lian to effectively dodge Hua Cheng’s fist, following immediately with a counterattack of his own, which Hua Cheng also effortlessly dodges in return.

They continue like this for a few bouts, and it’s similar enough to their last match that it causes Xie Lian to pause. Despite Hua Cheng opening with the first strike, they’ve somehow fallen into a pattern where Xie Lian is on the offensive and Hua Cheng only defends and it’s… it’s frustrating. Xie Lian has never really cared about the actual competition itself, he simply joined matches for the sake of being able to fight others who were just as crazy about fighting as him, and so now he just feels incredibly put-out that it seems like Hua Cheng isn’t taking things seriously.

He stills, pulls out of his last punch and as expected, Hua Cheng jerks his arm back at the last second as well instead of taking the obvious opening to his advantage. Once again, they’re just two opponents, standing in the cage, staring at each other but neither of them moving. Neither of them have even taken a stance—standing almost casually, albeit somewhat alert. The crowd has also noticed the pattern of the fight, and some bystanders have begun jeering at Hua Cheng specifically.

“Come on! Put up a proper fight or just get out!”

“Don’t waste His Highness’ time!”

Both of them stand and listen to the calls of the crowd and while Xie Lian usually doesn’t like to encourage this sort of heckling, he can’t help but cock his head to the side and ask, “Well, are you going to take this seriously?” because what other conclusion is there to draw from this bout? It’s obvious that Hua Cheng doesn’t want to beat Xie Lian at all, doesn’t even really want to fight him at all. It doesn’t make sense and it makes Xie Lian wonder why he’s even here.

Hua Cheng simply smirks at him, but his posture doesn’t change. “What makes you think I’m not taking this seriously, dianxia?”

“You’re not even trying to go on the offensive. Any other person would have felt insulted by now.” Xie Lian replies.

“Well, it’s good that you’re not any other person then isn’t it?”

His voice is low and velvety smooth and it makes Xie Lian feel warm for reasons besides physical exertion. “Perhaps, but I also refuse to continue a match with someone who clearly doesn’t want to engage.”

He turns to the referee who also looks like he’s one second away from giving both of them warnings and it’s this that finally seems to pull a genuine reaction out of Hua Cheng.

“Wait--!”

Xie Lian turns and cock his head to the side again in question, since Hua Cheng can’t see his face.

“You’ve got me gege, this newcomer didn’t mean to offend. I was simply excited at being able to spar with you again and wanted to do anything to extend the time as much as possible.”

Xie Lian lets out a huff of air, feeling somewhat affronted.

“And what makes you think going on the offensive would have made the time shorter? Either you think too highly of yourself, or you are severely underestimating me.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head vehemently, “No, I can assure you I would never!”

Xie Lian signals to the ref to stand down and that he will handle things before turning back to face Hua Cheng properly once more, “Then, are you going to fight me properly?”

Hua Cheng nods.

They both return to the center of the cage and take up positions, eyeing each other warily. Since no time outs were taken, there will be no whistle to signal a new start—it is simply up to one of them to make a move.

The fight that follows leaves everyone breathless.

It is Hua Cheng that makes the first move, and when he does it is clear that he had been holding back. His attacks are quick, aggressive, and absolutely wild, but what is perhaps even more wild is how composed Xie Lian managed to remain in comparison. The only sign that he may have been struggling lay in the fact that despite the sharpness of his own moves, equally quick and unforgiving, he still had not won.

Attack are blocked, grabs and holds are escaped from and used to lead into secondary attacks, throws that would have had most fighters winded on the ground ended with miraculous recoveries with both parties somehow still on their feet. Even when the fight had devolved into wrestling, as Xie Lian struggled to pin Hua Cheng down for three counts, it was hard to see who was at an advantage—but eventually, a winner was decided.

The crowd roared with enthusiasm, a whistle was blown and as for the fighters themselves…

Xie Lian flinches when the referee grabs his wrist, having nearly forgotten where he is and what he has been doing. He had been too immersed in the fight. Too immersed in Hua Cheng. He hears nothing but the blood that is still roaring in his ears, continues to feel nothing but the soft panting of Hua Cheng’s breath on his skin as they had rolled on the ground, and sees nothing but Hua Cheng’s eyes as the other man continued to stare at him from his position on the ground—gaze dark and dangerous.

Then he blinks and he is back in the cage, his arm being held up, the crowd cheering. Hua Cheng stands and dusts himself off, calm and cool as ever, although even with the noise Xie Lian could still hear the ragged panting of his breath—matching his own laboured breathing.

“Good fight.” Xie Lian hears himself say, truly meaning it as he shakes the other man’s hand. It is warm, strong, and Xie Lian can still feel the traces of where those hands had left marks on his body. He represses the urge to shiver.

“It was truly an honor to be able to fight you again, dianxia.” Hua Cheng replies, smirking once again. Were it anyone else, Xie Lian would have been sure they were mocking him, but there was something in Hua Cheng’s voice that sounded more like reverence. Xie Lian drops the other man’s hand and laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“I think the honor should be mine, you really didn’t make things easy for me.”

Hua Cheng doesn’t reply, and afterwards they are ushered out of the cage to make room for the next match. When Xie Lian turns his head after toweling off his sweat, Hua Cheng is already gone.

-

Feng Xin and Mu Qing both tell him to forget about Hua Cheng. They are, and have always been, Xie Lian’s best friends, so usually Xie Lian does try his best to listen to their advice—they care for him after all. But he cannot forget about Hua Cheng. During training he imagines the other man in front of him, he walks down the street and pictures fights with him in his mind, he goes from competition to competition seeking him, tries and fails to search him up on social media, but just like last time, it is like he has disappeared.

“You’re thinking about him again aren’t you,” Feng Xin grumbles as he sits down, practically throwing his tray of food onto the table of the university cafeteria.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Xie Lian replies promptly as he takes a bite of his own lunch.  

Mu Qing takes the seat beside Feng Xin, placing his tray down more gently and completely ignores Xie Lian to turn to the other man at his side, “He was thinking about him again, wasn’t he?”

“I wasn’t!”

Feng Xin has the audacity to grunt and nod as he slurps up his noodles at an alarming pace.

“Hey! I said I wasn’t!”

Mu Qing lets out a sigh that Xie Lian thinks is supremely unfair, given the fact that his friends are the ones being rude to him. Then, Mu Qing grabs something from his bag—a piece of paper it looks like, and places it on the table. “We’re only doing this because we know you won’t stop mooning about him otherwise.”

“I’m not—mooning? I’m not mooning!” Xie Lian splutters, but he grabs the paper anyway, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm and then stops short.

It is an address and apparently it is for a place called Ghost City. He’s heard of Ghost City. Xie Lian frowns. Before he can ask the question though, Mu Qing already gives him the answer.

“He’s there. We told you to give up on him, but we knew you wouldn’t so we thought it’d be better to just see for yourself what type of person Hua Cheng really is.”

Ghost City was an underground cage match arena—everyone who was anyone in the MMA world knew about it. It was for the fighters who desperately wanted to prove themselves beyond the world of sanctioned, formal, competitions. For the fighters who truly wanted to test their skill in a match where they had to put everything on the line. The only rule in Ghost City was the one: there were no rules. Although Xie Lian loved fighting, this was a place he had no interest in. He had never been interested in hurting and dominating others, he simply just wanted to test his skill and to experience the skills of others.

If Hua Cheng was there though…

“Please, just remember to be careful alright Xie Lian?”

Xie Lian nodded, gripping the paper more tightly than was probably necessary. He looked up at his friends, at Feng Xin who continued to studiously eat his noodles as if they had somehow offended him just by existing, and at Mu Qing who was looking somewhere off to Xie Lian’s left looking disgruntled, and smiled. “You two really are the best.”

Neither of them bothered to give him a reply, but the address was enough.

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter Five

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 4,300

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later-and still no closer to finding MichaelDean-Jack was searching the bunker for Sam or Cas. He was having a shit day and needed to talk to someone, but so far his search was turning up empty. In fact, it seemed like the whole bunker was empty. He had a bad feeling that they'd all taken off for hunts and left without telling him. Again.

He'd just turned down the hallway along the kitchen, heading back to his room to stew, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His head jerked toward it and he saw someone, dressed in thick black leggings and a grey racerback tank top with a solid purple flannel button down on top, opening the door to the fridge. It was that strange blonde woman again, the one he'd seen in Sam's room weeks ago. Maybe she knew where he was?

Walking into the kitchen, he began, "Hello agai-"

"Ah!" The woman leapt about a foot in the air and whirled around to him, the fridge door slamming closed. When she saw it was just him, she placed a hand on her chest and sighed, "Damn, dude."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," He apologized. "George, right?" She nodded hesitantly and he asked, "Have you seen Sam or Castiel anywhere?"

George shrugged casually and said, "No, but I think I heard someone say Sam left last night on a rougarou run to Dunning?" More like, you know he's on a rougarou run in Dunning because you've refused to leave your room for the last few weeks if he's in the bunker. She'd successfully been able to avoid Sam since waking up in his bed. That had been dangerous territory, so she'd been taking extra precautions to avoid him, and most everyone else, since. Which made it somewhat difficult to try and track down Rowena, who, George noticed, had seemingly done nothing to try and track HER down so far. She was beyond ticked with her now.

"Oh," Jack looked crestfallen and slowly nodded his head, "Alright. Thanks."

When Jack turned to leavesee she couldn't help herself and called, "Hey, wait…" He turned back toward her reluctantly and she almost lost her nerve, you shouldn't be doing this, "Uhh… what can I do to help?" He frowned at her and she squirmed awkwardly, "Sorry, I realize you don't know me at all, but… you seem upset, so I had to ask."

He considered her for a minute and then sighed frustratedly, "Sam-and everyone else-just keeps… leaving without telling me and-"

"You keep getting left behind?" She asked sympathetically. When he gave her an annoyed look, she smiled a little, "Sorry. I was left out a lot growing up, so I know how frustrating it can feel."

Jack's shoulders slumped and he let out an annoyed huff, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Now that my powers are gone, they all treat me like a child. They don't think I can handle anything! I'm not useless, I can do things! I can hunt! Or, at least I can be taught how to hunt, but they're all too busy!"

George deep sighed empathetically and moved to sit across from him, "Jack, you're not useless... you are young, though. And that's not a bad thing! But it does mean that sometimes you aren't ready to do certain things, even when it feels like you are." The look on his face didn't change and she smirked, "I know that isn't what you want to hear. I'm sure you'll want to hear this even less, but I wish I'd had this advice when I was your age so here you go: take the opportunity to enjoy being young and carefree and protected, even when it feels frustrating. Because… trust me when I say that you're lucky to have it and it really won't last."

"How can I enjoy it when I'm so pissed all the time?" Jack whined defeatedly. He seemed amenable to her advice but didn't know where to start.

She chuckled and shrugged, "Well, when I was a lonely, angsty teen-no offense-I used music. And video games… and food," She finished with a jokingly regrettable tone. "I wouldn't take my advice on the food, though," with a small smile she patted her fluffy midsection and he smiled with her.

Jack was studying her for a minute before asking, "What kind of music?"

"Oh, only the most angsty teen pop music the early aughts could provide: Linkin Park, Good Charlotte, Evanescence, Avril Lavigne-not the singles, the albums."

"Dean discourages pop music."

"Shocking," George muttered with a chuckle.

"What?" He asked curiously.

She shook her head, "Nothing-er-OK, so maybe not music. Have you got any video games here?"

Jack shook his head, "No."

George smirked and asked, "Let me guess, Dean discourages those too?"

Jack nodded and said, "He says it's because they'll rot my brain, but I'm pretty sure he just doesn't know how to play them and feels intimidated."

George laughed, "Yea, I would say that was probably a guarantee. The last time in his life he'd have had the luxury to play them was probably Atari?" Jack gave her a funny look. How would she know? Noticing the look she said quickly, "I mean, I assume. He just has that super old guy vibe ya know?"

Jack accepted her explanation and asked, "What kind of video games did you play?"

"Lots of different kinds. My favorite is probably N64. Those games were the best. Resident Evil, Goldeneye, Donkey Kong, Banjo Kazooie! All were personal favorites."

"Are those games still around? Can you still play them?" Jack wondered.

"If you buy all the equipment, yea? You have to get them used, probably Ebay or Gamestop or whatever."

"Gamestop?" He asked excitedly. "I know that place! There's one in town not far from here! Would they have the video games you're talking about?"

George looked confused. Why did he sound so excited all of a sudden? "Er… maybe, but-"

"Let's go!"

"WHAT?! Absolutely not."

"Please! You said video games would be a good distraction!"

"Jack, are you kidding? If Sam and Dean found out I took you out of the bunker without your powers, they'd have to stand in line behind Castiel to strangle me!"

"Please!" He begged.

She tried to be logical, "I-I don't have any money."

"Dean gave me a credit card!"

Damn. Instead she reasoned, "How would we get there?"

"I know where they keep the keys to Baby?"

Her face fell instantly and she asked, "Do you genuinely want to see me dead, Jack? If so, there are far less painful ways to accomplish that."

"Can't you drive?"

"Yes, I can drive, but there is no way we are doing this-especially not in that car. I cannot stress enough how badly this would turn out. This is literally the start of every episode! And when the bad idea goes wrong? You end up kidnapped and I end up dead!... Or worse: Winchestered!" When he just looked at her, confused, she said simply, "Jack, I'm sorry, but it's really not a good idea for us to leave the bunker. I can't fight, like, at all. If we got into a hairy situation, I couldn't do anything to protect you!"

He ignored her and kept begging, "George, please! You said that I needed to appreciate the opportunity to be young and to enjoy my time stuck here, so! Help me! We can take someone else with us, someone who can protect us both?"

Frowning at the desperate expression on his young, naive, baby face, she started considering it. I mean, if we took someone with us who knew how to fight it couldn't be that bad of an idea right? We could be in and out! Suddenly, every episode of Supernatural flooded her brain at once and she winced, shaking her head, "I'm sorry, but no, Jack. There is no one here that I would trust to be able to protect you enough to agree to do this."

"What about me?" Both of their necks snapped toward the doorway and found Sam standing there with an amused smile on his gorgeous, bearded face.

Whoa. George's jaw dropped. If she'd known he'd been growing that, she wouldn't have been avoiding him so hard. She was definitely feeling some kinda way about that beard.

"Sam!" Jack said nervously. "We were ju-"

"Planning to sneak out the window past curfew and go buy video games?" Sam shook his head with a couple teasing tsks and George couldn't help but chuckle.

Jack frowned, looking over at her and then back to Sam, "No... there aren't any windows in the bunker? We were just going to take one of the cars from the garage and drive there."

"No. We weren't!" George stood up and pointed a finger at him adamantly, "We weren't going to do anything that involved leaving or driving Baby or risking your life in any way!"

"Well, whatever you were doing," Sam interjected calmly and firmly, taking a step into the room, "I actually don't think it's a bad idea."

Jack leapt up excitedly, "Really?!" George echoed his excited 'really' with a surprised one of her own.

"Yeah. I know these last few weeks have been hard on you and if it'll help relieve some of the frustration and boredom, then," Sam paused, mulling it over before nodding, "why not?"

"Thanks, Sam!" Jack looked at George with an excited expression and she couldn't help but smile nervously at him.

"You're welcome," Sam smiled kindly, then added, "But I need a shower first. Give me 30 minutes?"

Jack nodded happily and then scurried off to wait, Sam slapping a hand on his back gently as he exited. When Sam turned back to George, she looked nervous still.

With a gulp, she asked, "Thought you were in Dunning?" Damn if he didn't look hot with that beard.

"Another team got there first. Didn't need the help after all," He explained. "You been checking on me?" He asked curiously.

Her mouth dropped open and she sputtered out a quick and pointed, "No!" giving him an offended expression, though the blush was hard to miss. She found his face frustratingly unreadable. Worried that he might be annoyed about their scheming, she tried to relax a bit and cleared her throat, "Listen, I'm really sorry. I was just trying to cheer him up; I never expected him to get the idea to leave the bunker. And-and, I never would have-"

"It's OK, you don't have to explain," Sam assured her, "I heard you guys talking. I know it was him. He has a tendency to get an idea and run with it; it's exhausting sometimes," He chortled, rubbing a tired hand over his face and she smiled understandingly.

George had a realization and frowned, asking, "Er… exactly how long were you listening?"

"Hmm, I got here right around…" He closed one eye in mock contemplation and finished with a smirk, "Avril Lavigne?"

George rolled her eyes in embarrassment and said, "OK, hold on. Listen, I'm not saying the singles! The albums have good stuff, very different from what the record company tried to force her singles to be. You have to hear the album before you judge, Sam! And I was a teenager!"

He chuckled and held his hands up. Despite the grin on his face he managed a serious tone, "Hey, I'm no hater boi."

Pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes tightly, she muttered, "Ugh, Christ."

She heard him practically giggle and then say, "I'm sure it's complicated."

"Cool. Well, I'm just going to go ahead and leave now," George said pointedly, glaring at him playfully. He laughed, watching her head for the exit. She paused at the doorway to pat him on the shoulder roughly, "Let you get ready for your Father-Son bonding time."

"Hold up, you're coming with us, right?" Sam asked, suddenly looking concerned.

George, who was out in the hallway by now, turned back with a surprised expression and shrugged, "No?"

Sam gave her a look of impatience, "How will we know what to get?"

"Uh… I can make you a list?"

"What if we can't find something?"

"Congratulations, you just discovered what sales associates are for!" She cracked, smirking at his impish questioning. He knew darn well that they did not need her to go.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her stubbornness and finally pointed out, "I think Jack would like you to come."

Suddenly her expression was dubious and she said, "I doubt that. He barely knows me, we just met. Or-sort of," She blushed suddenly remembering the reason she'd been avoiding Sam in the first place. The memory of waking up in his bed conjured up in her mindseye in an instant. With a swallow, she insisted, "He just needed an adult to take him to the store and you're here now, so-"

Sam cut her off gently, "Listen, I heard most of that conversation. You were connecting with him, George. Making him feel better, which I can tell you from experience is not easy to do. I could be wrong here, but I think this is something he would like to share with you." There was a nervous, maybe even panicked expression on her face and she didn't respond.

Sam took a few steps into the hallway to stand in front of her and smiled charmingly, admitting, "And, I would like it if you came, too."

She furrowed her brow at him suspiciously, her heart beating faster all of a sudden, "You would?"

Sam nodded, "Yea. Do you know how long I've been checking my corners for beautiful women?" When her jaw dropped satisfyingly, he looked at his watch and said, "So, thirty minutes, right? More like twenty five now, I better hurry!" then walked briskly away with a wink.

Blinking rapidly, she stood there staring dumbfounded into the now empty hallway. Since when was Sam Mr. Smooth with the lines around here?!

After being frozen in place for too long, she looked up at the ceiling again and said, "OK, seriously, if anyone is recording this, I'll give you whatever you want for a copy of that, too!"

Then, shaking herself out of her stupor she panicked. She's supposed to be staying away from these people, not joining them on outings! What was she thinking? This was such a bad idea.

George sat in her tiny room of requirement, mulling over her options.

Option one, "Don't Fuck Up the Timeline," was to make an excuse and stay behind, avoiding people at all costs from now on. No more making friends with the sad little half-angels! And certainly no more thinking about Sam's beard.

Option two, "Sam's Beard (working title)," was taking advantage of a once in a lifetime opportunity by tagging along on this risky misadventure and enjoying herself.

On one hand she knew from watching shows exactly like this that screwing with a timeline could have disastrous results. But, on the other hand, it sounded like fun. And she'd been cooped up in this bunker for weeks! Plus, Sam said he wanted her to go. How could she say no to that bea-to him?

With a frustrated growl she launched herself up off the bed and stomped out of the room. She knew what she had to do.

George nervously walked up to Sam's bedroom door. You just have to tell him: you can't go. Period. Maybe Jack will be disappointed but… he'll get over it! You can't be messing around with the storylines; God knows what ramifications it could have! God knows what you've already fucked up by interacting with them! You have to stay away!

But… Did it kinda seem like Sam liked her…? Like, like-liked her. At the very least she was getting serious DTF vibes, and it was making her positively gooey. She definitely didn't remember him being so… forward on the show. Wasn't he the shy one? Either way, it was incredibly attractive. And with that damn beard? Her loins were on fire. She always knew he'd look amazing with some facial hair.

Ugh, stop it! You're being r.i.d.i.c.u.l.o.u.s. Sam Winchester. Does not. Like you! You have to keep your distance and wait for Rowena to send you back. You're risking messing with the entire fabric of the Supernatural universe and, in turn, your own! And you call yourself a fan, you should be ashamed. What is wrong with you?

Then again, you did wake up in his bed… The thought made her heart skip a beat and her head pound with frustration. As curious as she was, she knew it was dangerous territory to explore. With a deep, calming breath, she knocked herself on the forehead sharply a couple times before reaching up and knocking on his door next.

When it opened a few moments later, she was face to chest with the gorgeous giant, who was currently dressed in dark jeans and a grey, short-sleeved, v-neck undershirt. She guessed she'd interrupted him before he'd had a chance to throw on his trademark plaid on top. It was a disconcerting look, one she wasn't used to from him; almost like seeing him naked.

Oh, please don't go there.

Slowly, she looked up and her mouth went dry. His beautiful hair was still wet from the shower and slicked back out of his face. The scruffy beard was still there, too; praise Jesus.

When she met his eye, there was a happy, curious expression on his face. He reached a muscled arm up and looked at his watch, asking "Am I late? I'm almost rea-"

"Nono, no. You aren't late." Cutting him off gently, she shook her head, "I just came to give you this," she held out a piece of paper to him, which he took with a raised brow. "And to say that, as much as I'd like to, I can't go with you. It's just... safer that way," She finished vaguely.

"Safer?"

She nodded definitively, trying to sound firm without getting specific, "Yes, safer. Too many things could go wrong."

"At Gamestop?" He smirked suspiciously.

George narrowed her eyes and thought about it for a moment. Of course, she'd meant 'on Supernatural' but she obviously couldn't tell him that so she nodded slowly, "Right… at Gamestop. Sure… I mean, they'll let any riff raff in there."

Sam looked down at the list of video game supplies, amused yet confused. When he looked back at her face he said, half smiling, "OK… well, not to sound full-of-myself, but I think I can handle any potential 'riff raff'."

"I-I know, I know!" She placed a fingertip on either side of her forehead and squeezed. Good lord. OK, just stay focused. Do. Not. Go. "I have no doubt that you're very willing and able to handle things." She eyed his large arms appreciatively and then cleared her throat, "It's just… um, you just never know what could happen-especially here," his eyebrow furrowed curiously at the emphasis, "er-I mean, at Gamestop. And if-God forbid-anything did happen and my presence somehow… negatively affected things… like your ability to protect Jack-er, uh..." The curiously amused expression he was giving her was causing her to stumble. She took another deep breath and refocused: "This is supposed to be a fun experience for Jack, right? I just think it's important that that's the focus. That list is everything you'll need for him to get set up. If they don't have the games I listed," she pointed to the list in his hands and he looked down at it again, "there are plenty of others that I'm sure the workers can recommend."

Sam started to talk and she caved, cutting him off again, "And-and if this is really something he wanted me to be part of-which I'm still dubious about-then, I'll be here when you guys get back! I can help get him set up and show him a few of the games. I don't mind that, I... guess," She finished with a small gulp. She knew it was best to stay away completely but she had a feeling it was a little too late now. "I just don't think leaving the bunker is a good idea. For me. Please." She finally met his eye and pleaded a little, "Sam, if anything happened to him or to-to you, I could never forgive myself." And neither would hundreds of thousands of fans.

Sam's expression was half curious, half amused, and all charmed. He thought for a moment, looked back down at the list, and then nodded slowly. His smile was kind as he said, "OK. If you feel that strongly about it, then stay."

"Thank you." She let out a relieved sigh, then grimaced a bit.

"You OK?" Sam asked with a concerned half-smile.

"I just… I know staying back is the right thing, but I feel bad." She admitted with a small shrug. "Do you really think Jack is going to be disappointed?"

Sam's eyes softened and he shrugged softly before turning and walking back into his room. As he picked up a green and black checkered plaid shirt that was laying on his bed and put it on, he said, "I think so, a little bit, but I can handle it. Not to worry." As he buttoned the shirt, he slipped his feet into his giant shoes.

He'd been about to say something about his personal disappointment at her staying-something he'd hoped would make her jaw drop adorably once again. But her eyes were roving his room with a pensive expression and it caused him to pause. He raised an eyebrow, watching her. Something about her had seemed vaguely familiar since he first saw her in that hallway. Yet, he still couldn't place her, which bothered him; it was unusual for him not to remember a name with a face. He had a great memory.

Is she someone we helped on a hunt? Maybe she went to Stanford? Did we… have a fling at some point? Nothing was jogging his memory, but he felt strangely, intimately drawn to her.

"George, can I ask… Ha-have we met before?" Narrowing his eyes in thought he added, "Did you go to Stanford? Maybe we shared a class?"

George looked at him like he was crazy, "Uh… er… Uh, see, I'm not-" As she stuttered out a response, he kicked himself.

She's from Apocalypse World! Moron. Obviously, it wasn't possible that they'd met before.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry. What a stupid question." Sam shook his head, chuckling in embarrassment. "You just… you look familiar, so I was just trying to figure out the connection," He trailed off, staring at her curiously again.

"Oh?" Was all she could muster, squirming uncomfortably under his gaze. She was horribly embarrassed to admit even to herself that she felt a strong pull from him, too. Something about him put her at ease while simultaneously making her want to burst into a million happy pieces and cover the world in a confetti of her joy and love. Hell, something about being here at all eased all her normal feelings of depression and unrest so wonderfully, she'd hardly put that much effort into tracking Rowena down at all, not that she'd admit that to anyone. But, obviously, the only reason she felt like this was just the amazement, the adventure, the celebrity of it all, and especially him. She knew there was no way in this universe they'd ever met; the last thing she needed was him taking an interest either way.

Swallowing any further conversation she might have been tempted to engage in, she began to step back from his doorway slowly but said quickly, "Yea, ya know, people tell me I have one of those faces. Anyway, tell Jack I'm really sorry and to have fun. I can come find you in a bit to see what ya'll come back with?" Just before turning and fleeing she said, "Oh, and make sure to get a couple extra controllers. Those are always the first to break, especially when you're just starting."

Before he could stop her, she left down the hallway and turned a corner. He almost went after her but then couldn't think of a valid reason. She wasn't coming and Jack was waiting for him. So, he grabbed his gun, collected the keys, and hoped it wouldn't be another three weeks before he saw her again.

[bakudekuficlibrary]

Do you have any fics where bakugou is disabled? Yalls blog is sooooo wonderful, and I love yall sooooo much. 😍😍😍😍😍😍💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Hey there! I’d like to note firstly that I’m able-bodied and I’m definitely not an expert on what is or isn’t a disability. I’ve tried to include all the physical and non-physical disabilities I could find. If I’ve been offensive or inconsiderate in any way here, please let me know.

- Jay

1 Series. 38 Works. 

Physical Disabilities 

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh( T |298,721+ | 18/? )

“We’re really sorry,” his father says, in a teary-eyed, wobbly way. “But your friend, Izuku, he’s… He’s gone, son.”

Katsuki can do nothing but blink up at them for moments that feel like an eternity, eyes darting between both his parents in obvious confusion, disbelief, and, more than anything, indignation.

“What the fuck are you two talking about? The damn nerd is standing right beside you!”

During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in his state is no one other than Kacchan.

Alternatively: Deku and Kacchan have their souls bound to each other.

[PTSD]

[On Hiatus] That’s That by Fif Sold Her Soul( T |26,079+ | 8/? )

After receiving a life-changing injury that leaves him unable to do any hero work, Bakugou does the best next thing to save face and hide his condition from the world; He becomes a teacher at U.A

Easy right?

Apart from dealing with his rambunctious homeroom class, the new and annoying as fuck generation of villains, his new protégé, and his crippling self-esteem issues, and his crush on fucking Deku, all while hiding his condition from the world, then yeah pretty easy. Not.

Bakugou suddenly has a fuckton respect for Aizawa.

[Abuse | Suicide Mention]

Missed Connections by Labellevita( M |9,765+ | 3/5 )

Deaf Uni student Bakugou can’t catch a break, but he does catch the scent of a fantastic smelling omega.

Dull by choimarie( G |714 | 1/1 )

day 2: your eyes

“What? Never have seen a hot dude before?”

SeriesPart 2 of Bakudeku week 2k18

Tired by igrewupwiththis( Not Rated |10,980 | 2/2 )

Bakugou is just so exhausted, and he needs someone who takes care of him. y'all already know who it is.

Let’s Start Over Again by BrightEyesEren( T |4,107 | 1/1 )

Ten years down the road. Izuku and Katsuki went their separate ways, living their own lives, until they meet again after a tragic turn of events.

Izuku realises how fragile fire actually is.

love is blind (and deaf) by kagehinataboke( T |789 | 1/1 )

Izuku hesitantly opens the door, wielding an umbrella and ready to square up against a mugger. but it’s only one of his neighbors: a new one, in fact. Izuku faintly recalls him moving in a few weeks ago, but one unfriendly glare was enough to stop him from approaching.

he discreetly drops the umbrella behind the door. “can i help you?”

— a bakudeku one-shot

Thought So by zuccin( G |771 | 1/1 )

Midoriya watches Katsuki walk away as he remember the sorrowful past. And he’s glad everything turned out in the end.

I guess… I’ll just… fuckin’ read this by TheGeekProblem( G |1,533 | 1/1 )

Izuku works the graveyard shift in a diner and he’s really tired. A group of people come at 2 a.m. What could go wrong?

Senses by Phayte( E |22,294+ | 6/? )

In a freak accident through battle, Bakugou loses his sight. This is the story of his struggle, downward spiral, and the friends that get him through it.

Everything Before Mourning by hollyandvice( M |15,527 | 1/1 )

“Whatever this is has got you running scared, Kacchan. If it’s got you scared, it’s got me terrified. So please, just… just tell me what’s going on.”

Kacchan runs a hand over his face, suddenly looking old and tired and nothing at all like what Izuku is used to. It makes the tension in Izuku’s chest go even tighter, as though trying to suffocate him. Izuku bites back the fear that wants to spill over his tongue and tries to just pay attention to Kacchan.

Whatever this is, they’re going to get through it together.

When a fight with a villain has longer-reaching consequences than Kacchan expected, he calls on Izuku to help him through. Izuku doesn’t quite know what that will entail, but he knows he won’t back down from this. Not from Kacchan. Not ever.

Am I Ready? by Ryxmas( G |6,226 | 1/1 )

Even after one and a half years after his disappearance, Izuku never really stopped thinking about Katsuki. After all, Katsuki always had a habit of barging into your life, even if you never expected it.

No Warning by DeafBakugou( G |10,375 | 1/1 )

Bakugou survives a natural disaster and has to navigate the world without the normal accommodations he depends on as a Deaf individual.

Finding Out and Confessions by Needle_In_A_NeedleStack( G | 605 | 1/1 )

Bakugo is deaf, that’s why he’s always so loud. He hasn’t told anyone. So when Midoriya Izuku accidentally finds out Bakugo’s secret, how will things change.

Lost The Fight by Katt1848( T |1,733 | 1/1 )

Every Hero remembers the first time they weren’t able to save someone. This is Katsuki’s.

transfigured night by bittermoons( M |6,044 | 1/1 )

An unexpected hospital trip changes things between Izuku Midoriya, age forty-four, and his longtime roommate, co-parent, and co-composer, Katsuki Bakugou.

Migraines and Emotional Pains by Leonidas1754( G | 1,212 | 1/1 )

Bakugo gets migraines often, resulting in going home early and Midoriya taking care of him. Said migraines also often result in thinking too much about himself and Midoriya, and how much he simply doesn’t deserve Midoriya’s love. Thankfully, Midoriya still knows how to handle him.

[Abandoned] An Internship by Aizawa_mf_Shouta, Qnonymous( Not Rated |2,954 | 6/? )

Bakugou isn’t happy, and it only gets worse.

hole in the wall by imanimoon( M |1,214+ | 1/? )

The camera’s perspective shook as the holder zoomed in on the hero. Maybe they were hoping to catch the moment in which Zero would pull himself to his feet with gritted teeth and then, in a vicious roar, promise the demise of his opponent before seeing to it. As he always did.But he’d barely moved a muscle.The sound crackled on as someone yelled out to the hero before cutting off right after.“Why isn’t he moving?”What seemed like hours could only have been mere minutes before the camera caught someone’s faint whisper, their voice coated in trembling disbelief, “I-I don’t think he can.”

It’d been years since Japan had experienced a tragedy of this magnitude. Some even called it “The Leveling,” villains unleashing havoc around the city leaving hundreds of civilians dead, numerous buildings grounded, and even heroes brought to their knees.

When Bakugou awakens in a hospital without the ability to walk, he believes his life is over. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to retain his number one hero status as a “cripple”. It isn’t until his childhood friend re-enters his life and shows him firsthand that Pro-Heroes aren’t the only ones who can save people.

[Ableism | PTSD]

Champion by DirtyDeku( M |575 | 1/1 )

Hiya!! This is based on a few roleplays I’ve had with my dear friend!! I hope you all enjoy it.

[Rape/Non-Con]

Non-Physical Disabilities

[Series] Schizophrenic Bakugou by masteremeraldholder( T |22,496 | 3 Works | Complete )

In which, Bakugou Katsuki has schizophrenia, and how he deals with it in everyday life.

[Suicide Attempt | Self Harm | Panic Attacks | Ableism]

Longing for Clarity by sushisama( E |106,663+ | 16/23 )

Slice of life AU. Check notes in first chapter for more specific details.Katsuki is in his senior year, and though he’s dealing his own questionable mental condition, he can’t help the excitement of the upcoming graduation. But his boyfriend, Izuku, has been acting strange, being almost a little too intimate. They come to find out that Izuku is going through the fermin, a predicament certain Quirk holders go through. Now Katsuki is being forced into considering relinquishing the secrecy of their relationship, if only to keep all he wandering eyes from Izuku.

SeriesPart 1 of Fermin Story

And You Got To Me by hopeboiwonder( M |17,547 | 4/4 )

Katsuki’s need to immerse himself in something that wasn’t his new day in day out routine of working and sleeping leads him to discover a coffee shop in the middle of the night. Cafe Yagi.

Izuku’s hair billows and bunches, chasing after him like a salty, green ocean wave; churning up crests of bright shimmer from the light above. His eyes brown bowls speckled with rich golden rings around his pupils; and remind him of the thin film of crema on top of a freshly pulled espresso shot…

Needless to say, coffee hasn’t left his mind since.

Crash by Storyofanotakuslife( T |2,089 | 1/1 )

Bad days aren’t unusual for Katsuki, he’s learned to handle them the best he can. Which usually means alone. But bipolar doesn’t care about your feelings, and for once he’s actually willing to accept some outside help.

(Can be read as platonic or romantic bakudeku)

Izuku’s Home for Wayward Pets by glamour_weeb( E |50,436+ | 11/? )

Izuku works at the Bureau of Companion Protection as a rehabilitator for abused and abandoned Companions, animal-human hybrids. He’s seen his fair share of cruelty cases and even fostered a few Companions, but he’s never had a Companion of his own, until now. After rescuing Katsuki from a life in an illegal, underground Companion fighting ring, Izuku must take in the wolfdog that no one else can handle.

Eventually, Katsuki comes to love his new home, as well as his new Master.

[PTSD | Past Abuse]

be loved by bonnia( T |5,403 | 1/1 )

They sit there, in the darkness of the common room, about a few centimeters between them, but miles apart. Somehow, the quiet is companionable. More than it has been in many years. Katsuki knows he’s responsible for the rift between them, and he knows even more that it can’t only be Deku who attempts to mend it.

“Hey,” he says, after a while, and Deku turns to him in question, but Katsuki refuses to look his way. “Touch me again.”

(or: the kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands)

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

new eyes by WabiSabi( T |56,645+ | 16/? )

Katsuki wakes up 22 years in the past.

With no other choice, he moves on.

(Or where Katsuki tries to mind his own business and fails spectacularly because he can´t stand people pissing over those who gained his respect. Even Deku. Especially Deku.)

SeriesPart 1 of Decrescente

[PTSD]

The Absolute Truth by Glon_Morski ( E |67,078 | 5/5 )

“What words did you say, exactly? Share with us. Show us how much of a monster you really are, Ground Zero.”

I told him…

‘Shut up!’

…that I have a time saving idea for him…

‘Shut up!’

…that if he wants to have a quirk that badly…

‘Shut the fuck up!!!’

…he should take a swan dive off a roof and hope for a quirk in his next life

The pain blooms on his throat this time as the characters that write the answer carve themselves into his skin. It doesn’t feel like a scalpel cutting through his skin this time. Nor does it feel like his skin is breaking on its own after being stretched too thin. Instead, the experience is akin to having his throat literally shredded, as if a million of tiny, jagged claws or teeth are digging into his flesh and pulling at it to brand him with the words.

This time, Katsuki screams.

A.K.A In which Katsuki is captured by villains who want to expose him as a ‘false hero’ (as per Stain’s ideology) and use a truth serum-like quirk to do it.

Mind the tags.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | PTSD | Panic Attacks]

[On Hiatus] You Were October Nights by AlchemyandHeroAnalysis( E |27,728+ | 4/? )

Across the locker room, tucked into the small corner of the wall separating the changing room and the showers, sat the Bakugou Katsuki with his knees drawn up to his chest and his head tucked in his arms. If Izuku hadn’t heard him, he probably would never have seen him to begin with. But he could. He could see and hear everything.

Please, don’t be real.

His gut twisted painfully as Katsuki’s broken sobs echoed against the concrete walls. His entire body shook with each desperate wail that escaped him. It sounded as though he was in complete and utter agony, painfully vulnerable and without any remote sign of stopping.

Summary:Izuku stumbles upon an emotionally distraught Katsuki in the agency locker room and is horrified by what he sees. What could have possibly happened to make his childhood friend this … broken?

[Rape/Non-Con | PTSD | Abuse | Self Harm | Addiction]

I Could Never Know A World Without You. by Kasplode( M |45,800+ | 9/? )

“Stay back, Deku.”

Izuku doesn’t listen. That decision leads to his death.

In a twist of fate that entwines him irrevocably with Katsuki, it turns out their time together isn’t over yet.

(OR: the bodysharing wonder duo AU where Izuku is kidnapped along with Katsuki, and the combination of unprecedented quirks leads to unexpected results.)

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | PTSD | Panic Attacks | Dissociation | Abuse]

Letting Go is the Ruffest Thing by SurelyHeavenWaits( T |5,541 | 1/1 )

For Bakugou Katsuki, storms bring change and never the good kind. Those howling winds and driving droplets of rain spell the end of an era for him, every single time.

Until this storm.

This storm brings Deku.

[PTSD]

[On Hiatus] Lost and found by Sad_Pawn( T |12,329+ | 6/? )

Katsuki is finally back after being taken by the League of Villains. However, he seems to have lost an important piece of himself. Can he recover without it?

Midoriya is so relieved that Kacchan is back and safe. But when he visits him, he immediately notices something is terribly, terribly wrong. Can he help restore his childhood friend's hope?

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

Fix Me by goateyes( E | 8,901+ | 3/? )

After an important mission goes south Bakugo finds himself in the hospital suffering from a severe injury. His agency forces him to go to physical therapy where he meets his therapist Midoriya, love (and chaos) ensues.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | PTSD]

ghostin' by chaoticheroes( G |1,583 | 1/1 )

“I’m proud of you.”

“You’ve said that already, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, I am. Proud of you, that is.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and tries to turn his head away but Izuku presses his hand to his cheek, forcing their eyes to meet. Izuku can’t see clearly but if he could, he knows Katsuki would be matching him with the same intensity that he’s known for. “I have every right to be proud of you. I love you. You having issues that are a little bigger than the both of us changes absolutely none of that, Kacchan.”

[PTSD]

The Bonds that bind by EloFromMars( E | 2,818 | 1/1 )

Izuku is excited, tonight is their anniversary. He had planned everything. Or so he thought.

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

[On Hiatus] Routine by strawberryflavoring( M |1,714+ | 1/? )

Bakugou isn't good at handling himself, and Deku's been too busy to see him getting worse. So, as you'd probably expect, Bakugou flips shit.

[Rape/Non-Con | PTSD | Self Harm]

[kacchanislife]

Could you write a story about the S/o so she’s a hero (still a student tho) under cover in the league of villains, and when they capture bakugou she has to pretend that she’s been evil the whole time and not actually loving him and he’s just sitting there saying that she’s lying and to tell the truth. And with a nice happy ending maybe? Also I LOVE your work especially the tattoo/piecing headcannons

Hi! Thank you so much for this request and I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to get to it. I accidentally made the ending sad, but this is only part 1 of 2 so look forward to a happy ending eventually!

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: sadness, some self-decrepitation, canon-typical violence

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Bursting Stars (Bakugou x Reader)

You were the mole at UA, not because you wanted to be and that you were evil, you were simply undercover and that was the role you were given. Doubling as a student at UA  and a member of the League of Villains? Just a day in the life of you, underground Pro-Hero Stardust, not that many people know that about you or anything, but that’s what you do. As a previous vigilante, you were cuffed and about to be thrown in jail until a detective realized your potential as an undercover agent. And hey, it got you out of trouble and gave you the opportunity to live a more straight and narrow life. One that is much better for a young girl than what you had been doing previously.

Unfortunately your role has left you in a very precarious situation. You were told not to fall in love with anyone, not to get too close to anyone while at UA or with the LOV, but you’re young and folly to your emotions. Which is why you ended up starting a relationship with a certain exploding boy who was somehow able to figure you out enough to get close to you. Who made you feel things you thought were unnecessary to life. And that makes the situation you’re in all the more painful. How do you lie even more to someone you’ve spent so much time with? Who’s seen you cry because you didn’t know if you were a good person or if you were deserving of love?

You have to swallow down what feelings you had and to put on your villain persona. Just because Bakugou is your boyfriend and someone you love, doesn’t mean you have to give that away to everyone here. That would be bad for the both of you and besides, you have a mission of your own to complete. Your mask is up and it’s time to play you LOV act well.

“A pity you actually thought I had feelings for you Bakugou,” you recline agaisnt the bar counter perched in one of the stools. “But thankfully you bought it and made my job of lowering your guard so much easier. Now, be a good boy and join us, won’t you?”

You could feel the rage and burrowed sorrow rolling off of him in waves, the mask on his face was gone and he cursed, “Shit, you really think I’m going to be a villain after this? Fuck that, and fuck you for fooling me. This is why relationships and other people are useless. I don’t love you anyway.”

The sting of his words hit home and you’re left wondering if this is really the right choice to make, if you should just swap sides and admit you’re an undercover agent for the police and take the LOV on with Bakugou by your side. But that’s a susicde mission and you know backup is on the way, with him being kidnapped, you finally gave away the location of their hideout to your superiors. Your superiors wanted to you to be as immersed in the experience as possible so you could get more information and evidence out of the LOV before they raided the place. However, this was perfect timing and good evidence to raid, but now you had to play the waiting game until they got here.

But even then, were you suppose to continue being undercover with the LOV? Would this mean not returning to UA and making Bakugou resent you for all of eternity? You weren’t sure you could handle that after everything. How could you after all? You love Bakugou and you couldn’t imagine a life without him now, but after this you were sure he would never forgive you even after you came clean about everything.

His voice breaks up your thoughts, low and nearly begging, “How could you do this (Y/N)? Does being a hero mean nothing to you? Justice? Winning? Being the best version of yourself you can be? Did… do I mean nothing to you?”

The tears well up in your eyes before you can stop them, of course he means everything to you. You fight for justice every day and you are a hero, but how could you say that without compromising your mission and your job. The words get jammed in your throat as you refuse to look at or speak to Bakugou, you just can’t without breaking. This you manage up until you’re outside surrounding him with the other members of LOV and One for All floating above a wrecked building. And never in your life have you ever felt so weak-kneed before.

Bakugou’s expression is of betrayal, pain, but most dominantly determination. You know what he’s thinking, he’d rather fight and possibly die than ever join forces with the bad guys. You’re right there beside him as Toga attacks, slamming her into the ground with your own quirk. Some of the members of LOV are surprised to see you betray them and team up with Bakugou, but others expected it. Like Dabi, who sends a jet of blue flame towards the two of you. However, you’re not just some student in training, no offense to Bakugou, and deftly protect the two of you and look for escape routes- at least for Bakugou.

As a hero you couldn’t exactly leave a scene like this unattened while fellow heroes are incapacitated. Just as you think all is hopeless, All Might shows up and you seem some of your UA classmates streak across the sky calling for Bakugou. There’s tears in your eyes as you see him look at your with stone cold red eyes, but you don’t let the opportunity presented to you go to waste. You summon your quirk and help send Bakugou flying towards the other three while you’re left on the ground fending off Dabi, Spinner, Toga, and the others.

You have plenty of cuts and burns on you as you keep them away from the fleeing teens and away from All Might facing off against All for One. Your reprieve finally comes when AfO sends the LOV members away and Endeavor comes to pull you away from the wreckage. You have to be taken to the hospital due to your wounds, although they’re not as extensive as All Might’s or Best Jeanists, you do still have to get checked out and stay there for a bit to recover.

The detective who originally vouched for you and was sort of your handler comes to see you, “Is he worth it, (Y/N)?” you’re asked as you lay in the bed, knowing you just gave up your identity all over media and no longer have to obscurity to do undercover work.

You look back at your handler, tears starting to form in your eyes again, “Yes.”

[venus-says]

Aikatsu Stars! Episodes 76-84

I’VE REACHED THE PEAK OF THIS SEASON!

The madness continues as I'm back for more Aikatsu Stars! I just realized I'm actually screwed and that I fucked up my schedule and I won't finish this marathon before on Parade starts and I'm kinda sad about it. But now that I'm so close to the end I won't give and I'm gonna blast through these final episodes.

To my surprise, I have very few things to say about this batch. These episodes were pretty chill, even the episodes that were more important to the overall plot were pretty mild and I didn't get as many things to comment on. All in all, I think all of these episodes were enjoyable, with the exception of one or two, and maybe I was more immersed and focused on just having fun rather than picking things that bothered me.

The second half of the season already starts with a bang with the official introduction of Aria during episodes 76 and 77. Now I love Aria, she's a sweetheart, I love her overall theme, her aesthetics, her song, she's a true delight and watching her taking her first steps into this world, and seeing how amazed she was by the huge amount of things she still doesn't know was very refreshing. But as much as I love her there are two things I'm kinda iffy towards to.

The first one is the conflicting backstory, Hime says she found Aria during her travels of the beginning of the season, while Aria says they know each other since they were kids, I know it's a silly thing to stress over but this really confused me. The second thing is that I don't understand why Hime is passing MLH over to Aria, as much as she gives some explanation on the episode I still don't get it. Regardless these episodes were great and I had a good time watching them.

Following up we have the episode that gives us Elza's backstory and more insight on the Sun Dress. Now Elza craving for perfection because she wants to be as her mom and because she wants a hug from her is actually a pretty good motivation and it made me sympathetic to her for a few moments. But Elza's bad-doings can't be excused by this fact and she still gives the horrible crazy bitch vibe and I still can't like her. As for the Sun Dress, this is a concept I never liked, you know? Like, for the game I understand, you gotta give something special for the people who collected all special coords, but as a plot for the show? I don't think it's necessary, I'd rather see them giving PRs for Ako and Koharu and having a "generic special coord" for the end as a prize of the Aikatsu Ranking thing instead of what we got. But oh well.

Nothing of that matters because episode 79 GAVE US KOHARU PERFORMING ON SCREEN FOR THE FIRST TIME AND NOTHING CAN MAKE THIS A BAD THING. Yes, I wish this had happened on an episode dedicated to this event rather than being shoved as a side plot for the Halloween episode, but I'm not really mad at the episode for doing this, I'm actually pretty happy about it. Besides, the Halloween part was also pretty good, so it's not like an offense like what they've done with Happy Punch.

And we reach episode 80, which is the episode I have most problems with.

This is the episode where we finally see Rei's debut, and dear god Rei looks like such a weird creeper here. Her obsession with Elza isn't healthy at all and she was saying some pretty awful things this episode. And like, they could've made this in the way it was and make it bite her in the ass by not giving her wings so she would realize that doing aikatsu solely for Elza's sake won't take her anywhere and finally turn her on and independent character. But now, they go the easy route and just say fuck it, she's just as crazy as Elza and she deserves it. And I'm sorry but I don't buy it, I really doubt the aikatsu system would acknowledge someone with those weak motivations as a perfect idol worthy of getting the wings.

And it just saddens me that this is what they're doing with Rei because I like her and I want her to be more than just a sidekick, but for some reason, they can't make that happen since this season is obsessed with idols who are obsessed with other people.

But then again this show comes through and the episode right after it calmed me down. It wasn't a masterpiece, it wasn't trying to do anything big, it was a simple filler episode, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

The same can be said to episode 82, they tried to make something there with Yume being so busy and so focused on her work that she had lost her joy and love for aikatsu, but they didn't really do anything with it, the problem gets solved on the same episode and it's a bit anti-climatic since I hoped this would be developed throughout the season until Yume gets her sun dress. Sadly that wasn't the case, but even though I didn't get what I wanted I still enjoyed this episode quite a lot, again Aria is so precious I love her.

Now, episode 83 also enters in this "chill, nothing happens, filler" vibe and it was pretty okay to watch. But then I started thinking that this was the episode where Rei could get her wings after having a realization in the end and I got sad with the wasted potential. XD I mean, Rei did get a realization in this episode, sadly it was a very dumb one about how much she wants to Aikatsu with Elza on a unit, and just thinking about it it makes me sad again. XD

In any case, episode 84 finishes this post. When I heard "unit cup" I got pumped and I thought we would see some healthy competition here with maybe some unusual pairings. Sadly that wasn't the case and this cup happened all in just this single episode, but thankfully this was a very good, heartwarming episode. Again, Ako works much better when there are no boys in sight and her interactions with Kirara were amazing, they were very funny at the beginning, passed through the "wow you're amazing" filter in the middle, to culminate in that extraordinary beautiful scene in the end when Ako gives Kirara the reality check that she shouldn't be doing Aikatsu just for Elza's sake since she's way greater than just that. This episode was a true delight from beginning to end and I loved everything about it. It's a bummer that FuwaFuwa Dreamer didn't get officialized here and they didn't get new coords or a new song, but it was still good despite this small fact.

And this was stars for today, my brain is completely dead after this so yall gonna have to stay with this half-baked outro. Only 16 episodes left and I'm shaking with bot fear and excitement. I'll see you guys tomorrow (hopefully).

[popatochisssp]

Make You Mark, 6/10

Series: Undertale, Underfell Relationship(s): UF!Papyrus/Reader Chapter Warnings: Extreme Thirst

AO3 Link

In a world where soulmates exist, monsters and humans have one thing in common: the first time two soulmates touch, a mark randomly appears somewhere–anywhere– on their bodies to represent their match.

It still doesn’t make relationships easier…but maybe it does make them a little more interesting!

When that nasty, nitpicky ladder-climing bitch, Gertrude had gotten you fired, you had been incensed.

It wasn’t a great job, you weren’t heartbroken to be let go, and most of your coworkers you wouldn’t even miss—save one.

BP had been there when you were gathering up your things, not really helping but with a look on his face that so resonated with your innermost feelings of impotent, nihilist disgust at management that it felt like he was helpful, anyway.

“This sucks,” he’d muttered in solidarity, watching you angrily cram a sweater into your bag. “Probably gonna make me do your job instead of hiring somebody else…”

“Sounds right,” you’d agreed. “Such bullshit, I can’t believe they’d fire me over…!”

Feeling the burn of injustice threatening to erupt from your mouth in a stream of very loud cusswords or maybe from your eyes in actual tears, you’d forced yourself to laugh instead and even attempted a joke.

“Ha, I should sue for this… Know any good lawyers?”

You hadn’t expected BP to actually look like he was considering it, or to say at length, “…Well…actually…?”

As it turned out…he did.

Tail twitching, ears flicking nervously, BP told you in a hushed and hurried tone that he knew a real good lawyer—a monster one, of course, but if that wasn’t a problem for you, he might even be able to hook you up.

“He works pretty cheap,” BP said, “all things considered. Likes the tough cases mostly, stacked odds and hard wins… I think he’s into the challenge more than the money—he’s probably bored otherwise, y’know he used to captain the Royal Guard, Underground? When we still had one, anyway. Point is, he’s one scary prick, he’d knock something like this out of the park for you.”

You felt you could hardly be blamed for being a little incredulous.

You eyed the visibly jumpy cat beside you, whispering while pretending to walk you out and looking like he’d jump a foot in the air if he heard a manager speaking too close.

“You can get somebody like that for me?”

BP’s ears flattened, in either offense or embarrassment.

“I…! Listen, I…! His brother owes me a favor, I can…make something happen for you…pr…probably…” He shook his head. “Just…keep an eye on your email, okay? You actually did your job instead of dumping it on me like… I…owe you, or whatever.”

You hadn’t been expecting much at the time.

It was a sweet sentiment by monster standards that he was even willing to try to do something like that for you, and you appreciated it for what it was.

The look on your face was probably hilarious when you actually received an official-looking email asking if you were the human seeking a wrongful termination suit— and asking after your availability to meet in the coming week.

-

Obviously, being newly unemployed, your availability was fantastic, which is how you ended up here, nicely dressed and sat outside at a nice little sidewalk bistro, waiting for your pro bono consultation regarding your legal recourse per your recent termination.

…Or at least, that was what Captain Papyrus’ email had said.

Since you have so much time to kill these days, it’s no surprise that you’re early. The past fifteen minutes have been spent fiddling with hems and tracing idle circles around the rim of your complimentary glass of water.

Normally, you’d fool around on your phone but you’re waiting for an Important Meeting with a monster you’ve never met and the last thing you want is to get too absorbed in a game and end up making an embarrassing first impression, or miss the guy entirely.

It’s not until ten minutes to the time you’d set that you realize how silly a thought that was.

You don’t see how you could’ve missed a monster like Papyrus.

The skeleton that strides into the bistro is tall and smartly dressed, exuding such a powerful aura of confidence that you swear for a second you can actually, tangibly feel it. His cheekbones are sharp and his fangs are sharper and when the roving red lights in his eye-sockets land squarely on you, you have to hold back an instinctive shiver.

You have to admit, you’re a little mad at BP, right now.

He never told you Papyrus was hot.

You don’t have time to dwell on it, though, because he’s coming over to you and you have to seem like a normal, respectable human—instead of a thirsty one.

You stand to greet him, smiling pleasantly. “Hi! Captain Papyrus, I presume?”

“YOU PRESUME CORRECTLY.”

He asks your name, his voice surprisingly deep and more than a little sexy raspy and you nod. You absently note that he’s not wearing gloves and hasn’t extended his hand to shake, so you don’t offer yours, either.

“THANK YOU FOR BEING PUNCTUAL,” he says curtly. “I HATE HAVING TO WAIT ON PEOPLE. MY SCHEDULE IS TIGHT ENOUGH AS IT IS.”

“I understand,” you agree, wordlessly encouraging him to sit as you do the same. “You’re doing me a big favor, I really appreciate this.”

Is it your imagination, or did Papyrus’ chest puff out a little just there?

“OF COURSE YOU DO,” he says, the hint of a smile playing along his jaw. “NOW, LET’S NOT WASTE TOO MUCH TIME, WE MAY AS WELL GET RIGHT INTO IT. YOU’RE CERTAIN YOU DON’T MIND DISCUSSING HERE?”

You shake your head ‘no.’ It’s a public place, but relatively deserted at this time of day and you’re not concerned that any really sensitive information will be discussed.

“RIGHT THEN.”

Papyrus pulls a hefty stack of papers from his briefcase, carefully carding through them as if to refresh his memory.

“I’VE REVIEWED YOUR CASE,” he tells you, “AND IT’S SOLID. YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY WITHIN YOUR RIGHTS TO PURSUE WRONGFUL TERMINATION AGAINST YOUR FORMER EMPLOYER.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I…really? I am?”

“YES. ARE YOU SURPRISED?”

“I…a little bit, yes,” you admit. “I didn’t…really think I’d be on the right side of this… ”

You’d been angry, certainly. Indignant, absolutely. Utterly railroaded by months of Gertrude’s petty hair-splitting, definitely.

But you had been in violation of the employee dress code, however technically.

You glance down at your hand, the small bit of commemorative ink you’d gotten there staring up at you.

“My tattoo really isn’t a problem…?”

Papyrus scoffs.

“IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN,” he says, “HAD YOU NOT HAD THE TATTOO FOR MORE THAN A YEAR PRIOR TO YOUR EMPLOYMENT AND WORKED WITHOUT INCIDENT UNTIL…VERY RECENTLY.”

He starts flicking through the papers again, pulling out one you recognize—an email chain you’d sent to him, displaying one of several unpleasant exchanges you’d had with Gertrude.

“YOU DID WELL TO DOCUMENT THESE COMMUNICATIONS,” Papyrus tells you. “I USUALLY TAKE ACCUSATIONS OF WORKPLACE SABOTAGE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT, BUT THESE… IT SEEMS CLEAR TO ME THAT THIS…GERTRUDE…REALLY WAS OUT TO GET YOU. AND WITH YOUR TERMINATION, SHE STOOD TO TAKE YOUR PLACE FOR PROMOTION, IF I RECALL CORRECTLY?”

Petty as it was, you’d…kept track of her on social media. You can confidently answer, “Oh, she got it, alright.”

Papyrus nods in satisfaction. “THEN THAT’S ALL THE MORE INCRIMINATING. IF YOUR EMPLOYER KNOWS WHAT’S GOOD FOR THEM, THEY’RE GOING TO WANT TO SETTLE THIS MATTER OUT OF COURT, IT’S BLATANTLY DISCRIMINATORY CONDUCT.”

Out of court? Really?!

“My case is that good?” you ask, still unable to fully process it.

“WELL, WITH CLEAR PRECEDENT ON YOUR SIDE…”

“There’s been a case like this before? That a tattooed employee actually won?”

It sounds unrealistic to you. You’d been so immersed in the rhetoric of tattoos as ‘unprofessional,’ unsuitable to be shown around customers and clients for any reason, no matter what or where they were, that the concept feels foreign to you.

“TECHNICALLY,” Papyrus says, “IT WAS A SOULMARK, NOT A TATTOO. A YOUNG LADY HAPPENED TO MEET HER MATE AND HER MARK FORMED ON HER NECK QUITE VISIBLY. SHE WAS FIRED FOR HER ‘UNPROFESSIONAL’ APPEARANCE, IN SPITE OF HER WORKPLACE’S DRESS CODE FORBIDDING THE KINDS OF COLLARS AND CHOKERS THAT MIGHT’VE CONCEALED IT. SHE SUED AND WON.”

That makes you frown a little.

“Mine isn’t… It’s just a normal tattoo,” you insist. “I got it on purpose and everything, with boring old ink and needles.”

Papyrus doesn’t seem concerned.

“A MINOR DISTINCTION,” he assures with a dismissive flap of his hand. “A MARK IS A MARK REGARDLESS OF HOW IT GOT THERE. ANY LAWYER WORTH THEIR SALT COULD ARGUE THAT YOU COULD GET A SOULMARK ACROSS THE BRIDGE OF YOUR NOSE TOMORROW AND YOUR EMPLOYER WOULD’VE BEEN WRONG TO FIRE YOU FOR IT, SO WHY WOULD SUCH A MODEST LITTLE THING LIKE THAT BE SO OBJECTIONABLE?”

You spare another glance to your ink when he gestures to it, and when you look back up, the skeleton’s expression is nothing short of boastful.

“AS A MATTER OF FACT, I COULD WIN YOUR SUIT FOR YOU IN MY SLEEP!”

A bolt of excitement strikes through your soul.

Hesitantly, hopefully, you ask, “Are…are you offering to represent me?”

Even if on a purely professional basis only, you can’t deny that you’d…really like an excuse to see Papyrus again sometime.

Not only because he’s a very handsome guy with the kind of voice that could make the dictionary sound riveting.

But as you watch, his eye-sockets go wide, his cheekbones reddening at the look on your face.

“I………NO. NO! THIS WAS—IS! JUST A CONSULTATION!” he denies. “I’M ONLY REPAYING A FAVOR INCURRED BY MY SCOUNDREL OF A BROTHER, I’M…! I’M TOO BUSY BY FAR TO TAKE ON YOUR CASE, EVEN AS OPEN AND SHUT AS IT OUGHT TO BE!!!”

……

You thought he was hot strutting over to you before with his chiseled face and his sleek suit and his squared shoulders.

…And now, you think he’s unbearably cute with his impossible blush and flustered expression.

Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not going to be your lawyer, because if he’s not going to be working for you…

You think you kinda want to ask him out.

“Alright,” you decide aloud, “I guess I’ll…start looking for another lawyer, if I decide to…pursue this. Um…in the meantime, though, maybe…maybe……… Oh, no.”

Buzzkill in the extreme, you spot the absolute last person you want to see right now walking down the street—and she’s noticed you, too.

Even worse, a smirk comes across her face and she swaggers on over to your table with a ‘delighted’ cry of your name.

“Hello, Gertrude,” you manage to grit out.

You watch as Papyrus flinches at the laugh that comes out of the woman’s mouth, feeling validated.

You always hated it, too.

“Oh, sweetie, please, I keep telling you, you can call me Gertie! Especially now that we don’t work together, haha!”

As if she wasn’t directly responsible for that.

“Right,” you say flatly. “Look, I’m…really sorry, but I’m… I’m kinda busy right now, so I—”

“Really?” The fake incredulousness of her tone makes you bristle. “I thought you’d have so much time now! You know, since you’re…ahem…job-hunting, at the moment.”

“…Yeah. L—”

“I’m actually kind of jealous,” Gertrude has the nerve to giggle. “I’m so busy since you left, with the assistant manager thing and all. I wish you were still around to help out, but…” She clucks her tongue. “I know you just weren’t a good fit there, what with your ‘lifestyle.’”

Stars above.

You’re out of patience.

“It’s one tattoo, not a ‘lifestyle,’” you snap, “and I’m in the middle of something right now, so can you please just…go?”

This was…sadly, very familiar to you.

Good ol’ Gertie was just too good at the passive-aggressive game: she was a bitch with a beaming smile and she knew just how to work people up until they got mad and then she was the victim who was only making conversation…

And you were the bad guy.

You feel your cheeks heating with instant regret, even as Gertrude gasps and puts on her ‘innocent pearl-clutcher’ act.

“So rude!” she exclaims, scowling at you. “I was just checking up on an old friend from work and you tell me to ‘get lost’?!”

You try not to squirm in your seat. “That’s not what I—”

You’re cut off, like you always are.

“You know, it’s exactly that horrible attitude that got you let go,” she says in a decidedly lecture-like tone. “You’re never a team player, you neveraccept any criticism, it’s like you don’t even care about your work! You obviously don’t care about your appearance, just look at what you did to yourself!”

Your eyes widen as Gertrude actually reaches out to you, making to grab at your tattooed hand. Shocked, you start to stand—to shove her back or scurry out of her reach, you have no idea—but you never make it up.

In one fluid movement, Papyrus is out of his chair, pressing you down with surprisingly gentle claws and moving to stand directly between you and the bane of your existence.

“MA’AM,” he says to her, and the stony chill of his voice makes any words you had die on your tongue. “I WOULDN’T.”

Suddenly, you remember what BP told you about Papyrus—that he was a soldier before he was a lawyer—and that seems abundantly clear now. His entire bearing is obviously military, ready for combat and poised to defend you from even the minor threat that was a judgmental, self-righteous jerk.

Your companion’s demeanor certainly seems to have spooked Gertrude.

She takes a step back, blinking up at Papyrus in shock.

“I… Who are you?” she demands to know.

Your hero doesn’t even flinch.

“I AM THEIR LAWYER,” he declares. “AND I WOULD SERIOUSLY ADVISE AGAINST ANY ACTION ON YOUR PART EVEN RESEMBLING HARASSMENT OF A FORMER EMPLOYEE CURRENTLY PURSUING LITIGATION. THAT WOULD LOOK CONSIDERABLY UNFAVORABLE FOR YOU AND YOUR EMPLOYER SHOULD THIS MATTER GO TO COURT, ESPECIALLY WITH MYSELF AS A WITNESS TO YOUR BEHAVIOR.”

That was a lot of big, loaded words for Gertrude to take in and for the first time in your life, you get to have the pleasure of seeing your nemesis look afraid.

Faced with the potential of actual consequences for her pettiness, all she has to say for herself is, “I…! I’m leaving!” before scurrying off down the sidewalk, tail between her legs.

And you have never been so attracted to anyone in your life as this fucking skeleton.

God damn…

Papyrus watches her retreating form until she’s out of sight and slowly retakes his seat.

“……EIGHT MONTHS?” he asks you after a moment.

The amount of time you’d had the joy of that woman as your coworker.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“YOU’RE A SAINT.”

The deadpan delivery makes you laugh despite yourself, and the sharp grin Papyrus gives you in return makes your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

“I, uh… I couldn’t help but notice,” you slowly say, “that you…might’ve told her you were my lawyer. Did… do you mean that, or…?”

He didn’t.

It’s pretty obvious to you, especially with the way that cute blush comes back across his face—just something he said in the heat of the moment to make getting rid of Gertrude easier—but you can’t resist pushing your luck.

“I…HONOR MY COMMITMENTS,” Papyrus says, even as it looks like it’s killing him. “YES, FINE, I’LL TAKE YOUR CASE. LET’S EXCHANGE NUMBERS SO I CAN CONTACT YOU TO DISCUSS THE DETAILS.”

You have to admit, it’s not really the way you’d been hoping to get Papyrus’ number…but you’ll take it.

Maybe when everything’s said and done, you’ll have worked up the courage to ask him out for real!

…Naturally, that resolve is only strengthened when you get home and take off your nice blazer to find something that definitely didn’t get to be on your skin with ink and needles…

-

You’re half-expecting it when your phone rings later that afternoon.

What you don’t expect is to answer it to Papyrus’ bold, authoritative voice practically barking at you without a shred of the professionalism he’d spoken with earlier.

“WHAT KIND OF SOULMATE ARE YOU?!” he demands, sounding beyond indignant. “TO LEAVE SUCH A, A…MARK ON ME!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE…! I AM A RESPECTABLE SKELETON, AND NOW I CAN’T SO MUCH AS TAKE OFF MY SHIRT IN POLITE COMPANY AGAIN BECAUSE OF YOU, I HOPE YOU REALIZE THAT!”

He sounds so mad, so…unlike the controlled impression he’d given you before, and it feels strangely…

Natural.

You smile a little to think that you might actually be talking to Papyrus this time instead of just The Professional.

It was a very good mask—you wonder how many he has, and if you’ll get the chance to meet any more of them—but your focus is admittedly elsewhere.

Excited, you ask, “You got a mark, too, then? What is it? Can I see?”

“OH, OF COURSE, YOU WOULD WANT TO SEE YOUR HANDIWORK, YOU DEVIL! FINE!”

There’s the sound of shuffling and then your phone buzzes with an incoming photo. You switch Papyrus to speaker so you can properly ogle it.

The breath comes out of you in a whoosh when you get your first good look. Your skeleton soulmate just sent you the type of picture guys usually sent unsolicited, with a towel hanging low on his pelvis—obviously fresh out of a shower—and a view of his scarred spine and ribcage that could only be described as 'gratuitous'.

Not excepting, of course, the cherry on top: the colorful little heart-shape stamped right in the middle of his sternum.

“Ohhh,” you coo, “that’s so cute!”

“CUTE?!” Papyrus practically shrieks over the phone. “IT IS NOT CUTE! IT’S…IT’S LEWD! A SOUL, RIGHT THERE FOR EVERYONE TO SEE! YOU, YOU LECHEROUS HUMAN, YOU, MAKING ME LOOK LIKE I’M…SOME KIND OF DEVIANT PERVERT! HOW DARE…”

You tune him out a little, letting him keep right on ranting. You need to make sure you have the right angle and lighting for the picture you’re about to send back to him.

You know instantly when he gets it because his words trail off and there’s a noise that sounds suspiciously like his jaw clacking shut.

“What do you think?” you ask after a long moment of silence.

Personally, you’re very fond of the ruby-red rose that’s announced itself on your arm, its thorny stem curling gracefully around your bicep.

You hope he likes it, too, and you can easily imagine that he’s blushing again like he did before…maybe even darker this time.

Eventually, Papyrus speaks.

“………I…I CAN’T BE YOUR LAWYER. I’M…IT WOULD BE HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE AT…THIS… ” He pauses to clear his throat…or the skeleton equivalent. “AT THIS POINT IN TIME. IN LIGHT OF RECENT DEVELOPMENTS.”

Ah, his composure is coming back. You wonder if you can’t fix that.

“Maybe you can recommend one to me,” you coyly suggest. “Over coffee, maybe. At my place…?”

“………S-SEND ME THE ADDRESS!” he snaps, and then he rudely hangs up on you.

You just laugh and hope you’ll be able to wipe the grin off your face before Papyrus shows up.

So, you lost your lawyer…

But you’ve snagged yourself a date with your soulmate and that feels like a damn good trade-off!

UT!Sans | UT!Papyrus | US!Sans | US!Papyrus | UF!Sans | SF!Sans | SF!Papyrus | HT!Sans | HT!Papyrus

[dunk-that-touchdown]

I saw on your other blog that you did a post about which KNB characters would date girls outside their race and I loved it! I was wondering if you could do the same for the Haikyuu boys! Thank you!

I said it on my other blog so here it is again for this blog:

While I do  have a pretty strong preference for Asian men, I do realize that not all Asian men are attracted to people outside their own race/ethnicity (for a number of different reasons). However, I have thought of some characters that I think would seek out a relationship with someone outside their race.

Note: Remember these are fictional characters and this list is just of characters that I THINK would be down for it. In no way is this meant to be offensive or exclude anyone in an offensive way,it is only what I think, not what is set in stone or canon. Also, remember that everyone has their own preference to who they are attracted to and that there is never any malice behind it. We just like what we like, ya feel?

______________________________________________

Koushi Sugawara:

I totally see him being super into European women, especially Russian and German women. He is completely in love with their way of life and culture and the women are absolutely breathtaking. In the (hopefully near) future he would like to date some European women and hopefully get with one serious enough that he gets to marry one.

Yu Nishinoya:

Black and Latina women (and men BYE) are what he is most attracted to. Their bodies, language, culture, and what of life take him on a trip. He loves how they conduct themselves so confidently and how expressive they are. He has never gotten a lot of hands on experience with these types of women, but from what he has heard from friends and has seen on TV and social media, he can tell that he would do well with these sorts of women.

Ryuunosuke Tanaka:

Latina women are his kryptonite. He likes himself a strong willed woman, one that doesn’t take any nonsense from anyone no matter who they are and Latina women are just that. Their confidence and charisma make his knees weak and not to mention that their language makes him feel as though he is floating on a cloud. He has only ever met a handful of Latinas but he has had a crush on each and everyone of them. He wants to one day experience their culture and way of life in person and start a family with a mixture of both his and his girlfriends culture.

Chikara Ennoshita:

Much like Suga, he is super attracted to European women, though European women with sun kissed skin make him absolutely weak. To him they look so pure and angelic, he just can’t help but  stare at them like a love struck puppy, simply hoping that they come to talk to him because he is too stunned by their beauty to move.

Tobio Kageyama:

Black women or just any woman with darker skin tones. He thinks that people with darker skin tones are so attractive and actively seeks them out, but black women and their culture are always going to be something that he seeks out. He is fascinated with them and wants to learn more and be one with their culture. 

Kei Tsukishima:

Black and Vietnamese women!!! He’s not really sure why he likes them, but he finds himself looking at them more on social media and being interested in their culture and way of living. He has never met any black or Vietnamese women, but he is actively hoping that one day he can meet some and start a relationship with them. 

Keishin Ukai:

Chinese women. He thinks that they are the cutest women on the planet. They’re all a lot smaller than he is and waaaayy more efficient than he is. He loves their culture and way of life, having spent some time in China himself in his earlier years. When he was there, he didn’t get the chance to date a Chinese girl, but he always found himself picturing himself with one and maybe even starting a family with one. 

Tetsuro Kuroo:

Black women have his entire fucking soul man. Their attitudes, culture, lifestyles, range of body/hair/skin types drive him insane. He wants to be able to immerse himself in their culture and learn more about them and what better way to do that than through dating one? He wants to be able to bond with someone over introducing one another to each other’s culture. 

Morisuke Yaku:

Russian ladies, he is your man, but only in terms of dating sadly. He has dated a Russian woman before and finds himself very attracted to them but his family is pretty strict and only wants him to marry a Japanese woman. However, until he has to actually marry and settle down, he will want to date as many Russian women he possibly can. 

Taketora Yamamoto:

This boyo here loves all women. If they are cute or give him the time of day, chances are he’s going to be head over heels for them. He isn’t one to discriminate someone due their skin color or race or culture. He’s full of love for all the girls in the world if they would just stop sleeping on him!!!! GIVE THIS BABY MORE LOVE YOU COWARDS

Sou Inuoka:

American/Canadian girls, preferably white. He loves the American/Canadian culture and food and would love to be able to experience it with someone from either of those places.

Lev Haiba:

He too has a love for all women from any kind of background/skin color/culture. He likes to be able to learn about his girlfriend and her heritage.

Tooru Oikawa:

Listen, if you have thick lips, thick thighs, and dyed hair, Oikawa is going to drop to his knees in front of you, okay? Doesn’t matter your race or culture, just as long as you have those things he is good. Although, if he had to just pick one, I think he would more so be attracted to black women for those same physical qualities but also for their culture and food. 

Issei Matsukawa + Takehiro Hanamaki:

Both these absolute goofs love each other themselves a Korean woman. They are a lot feistier than other Asian women and they love that. The want a woman that knows when to put her foot down when it comes to their shenanigans or speak her mind whenever she thinks the time is right.  

Hajime Iaiwzumi:

American/Canada/British women. It wouldn’t matter what her skin color or heritage or culture is, he just loves women from these places because they all seem a lot more outgoing than the women he is used to. He likes women that can take charge every now and again, and from what he has seen and experienced, women from these places know just how to do that. 

Kentarou Kyoutani:

Black women. He finds them a lot more accepting of both personalities and looks as well as temperaments and actively seeks them out. He loves their different ranges of skin tones and loves that they are so unique from one another yet still all have the same culture and stick to it and own it.  

Yasushi Kamasaki, Kenji Futakuchi:

Same as Nishinoya, they are mainly attracted to black women or women with darker skin tones (tan to dark chocolate). From their bodies, to language, and culture, they are both just so interested in learning about it, wanting to be apart of it and experience it with the help of their girlfriends. They love how confident and real they are and how they have no issues  expressing themselves.

Kanji Koganegawa:

Korean women. They just look so soft yet strong to him, he can’t help but want to be around them and learn more about their culture and heritage and how it differs from his own. 

Koutarou Bokuto:

Black and Korean women. Both drive him absolutely wild because of how confident and expressive they are. They’re bold, sexy, accepting, and amazingly talented and he melts whenever he gets the chance to talk or be around these types of women. He will actively seek out these types of women and want to get to know them, hopefully ending up dating one and getting into a pretty serious relationship with them that can hopefully end up in marriage.  

Yuuji Terushima, Daiki Ogano

Loves all women but finds himself liking more black women on social media. He thinks darker skin tones are so beautiful and diverse. He isn’t exactly picky about he race or culture of said women, just as long as they have darker skin and a nice figure. He isn’t really sure he’ll get the chance to date a woman like this either, but if the chance does present itself, he’ll want to really invest all his time and love into it, learning more and coming to appreciate and love their culture. 

[munchflix]

WATCHMEN - THE SUPER EXTENDED CUT

IMDB BLURB: In 1985 where former superheroes exist, the murder of a colleague sends active vigilante Rorschach into his own sprawling investigation, uncovering something that could completely change the course of history as we know it.

WARNINGS: Giant blue peen, large bepis. It's blue. Malin Ackerman can't act for shit. Attempted rape. Lots of murder. Some gore. Adult themes? Zack Snyder. Repulsive sex scene. It's not gross, it's just weird and uncomfortable. And unnecessarily long.

RATING: Who watches the Watchmen? Us...unfortunately.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: All reviews are done solely for humor and should not be taken seriously ever. If you cannot handle cursing, crude humor and probably some offensive things, pls do not read this. And please please don’t watch this fucking movie.

MUNCH: I want you to know, first thing, that I will never forgive you for making me watch this for a THIRD TIME. I first saw this in the theatre on my birthday and it was awful then. I spent three hours waiting for it to get better and it didn't and now you're making us watch the super extended version with 30 more minutes of shit I DON'T WANT TO SEE. I am old and I was a fan of the comic long before this detritus was filmed. I was actually excited for this shit. This movie, like a lot of the movies we review once a year, is bad. It's pretty, it's well filmed, it has a brilliant cast, and it sucks like a Dyson trying to fellate a rubber chicken.

BISCUITS: Okay...I'm gonna be upfront about this. We're gonna have to be here for each other during this review. We need to BELIEVE in ourselves, and to share our mental fortitude. That might be the only way we'll be strong enough to make it through. Even then, there's no guarantee we'll make it...but if we do, we'll emerge from the other side as changed women, now knowing the true power that the bond of friendship can hold. Or not. Actually, we'll probably just end up sad. But the point is, we need to be here for each other.

M: The Nixon makeup is so bad. All this budget and he looks like a half melted wax statue.

These are the Nixons, folks.

B: Jeffrey Dean Morgan in old age makeup? I'd still smash that. The DOOMSDAY CLOCK! That's a reference to the comic! Get it?! We're JUST like the comic!

M: That's part of what bugs me, there's so many moments just taken straight out of the comic and then the rest of it is just Zack Snyder mentally masturbating about how cool he is.

B: Let me tell you younguns - long before the days of Suicide Squad and Batman V. Superman, Zack Snyder created the first of many tragic mistakes in the saga of "DC and Warner Bros. Attempt to Movie". It was dark, overdramatic, and had little substance behind its superficially good visuals. But Warner Bros. were all like "OMG Zach, look at all this money. Can you fuck ALL our beloved properties like this???"

M: Nostaaaaaalgia.

B: Okay, Unforgettable - this song was in the comic, it was in the book. It was playing in a scene in the comic but it was when Dan and Laurie tried to have sex for the first time. I don't understand the rationale behind using a song from the comic but putting it in a completely different scene. Why did you make that change? I don't understand why you would do that.

M: Watchmen in a nutshell. JESUS CHRIST I forgot that the explosions come in about 30 times louder than everything else.

B: Why is the Comedian wearing a smiley face pin on his bathrobe? Because of the symbolism??? Nostalgia. This is from the coooooooooomic. This is the first instance of inappropriate soundtracking, which is alright the first time but gets annoying when you do it over and over.

M: I have no idea. Oh yeah..the movie. The Comedian is fighting a mysterious figure that we'll figure out who it is later. Unless you've read the comic. It's Veidt. Slow zoom on the pin with the blood spatter because it's SYMBOLISM. Also the Comedian got thrown out a window. There's also been half an hour of slow mo and we're only 5 minutes into the movie.

B: *burps loudly* Bob Dylan, because there was a reference to a Bob Dylan song in the comic. Slow shots of our great heroes, The Minutemen. Zacc Snyder, fuck you. These were the original super hero dudes who spawned the existence of all the other masked vigilantes in this universe.

M: Gerard Butler??? Who the fuck is Gerard Butler?? Hang on, I have to look this up. Oh...he's in the Tales of the Black Freighter, which is only in this super-long ultra-extended edition.

This gif makes it look like Gerard Butler is playing Sally Jupiter. This is not the case (unfortunately?).

B: Which we're watching because we hate ourselves. Historical landmarks to set up the time period. Also Silhouette was a lesbian. Dollar Bill got killed when his cape got stuck in a revolving door. NO CAPES! Mothman went nuts and got put in an asylum. The minutemen turned out fine. Also Silhouette is dead. And Gay.

M: Bury your gays. She was only alive for two minutes of credits.

B: To be fair, she didn’t really have a role in the book either. Also, Kennedy is killed. By the Comedian. Which I suppose was implied in the comic...very vaguely. This is way too much exposition. We can read about history, we don't need a recap of every single event since 1940. We aren't that dumb, Zakk. There's more politics in this intro than exposition but Watchmen was supposed to be political. I have big problems with Matthew Goode....goode? How is that pronounced? Look at all that BEEF tho. Arby’s, I got ya new commercial right here.

I’ll take the one on the far left with cheese, please.

M: Slow the fuck down, jesus. I can't type as fast as you thirst. I'm gonna make you type this if you don't slow down.

B: Glad I'm not wearing a retainer. You think Jeffrey Dean Morgan would pay for it? Also Night Owl's costume looks so shitty.

M: Seriously, slow down. I have issues with how contoured Manhattan is.

B: And then everything went bad for the vigilantes and they got banned. This is SO LOUD. Tell Zaque Snyder I get spooked easily. I don’t like loud noises, I’m like a wild animal.

M: Oh yeah so the Comedian is dead. Two detectives wonder how he died. So mysterious. It was Veidt. Don't blame me if you didn't read the comic, it's been out for 30 fucking years.

B: My other issue with this movie, it doesn't ADD anything to it's source material. If I wanted just Watchmen I'd just read the comic. I could read most or all of it in the time it takes to watch this movie. So...Rorschach is ranting.

M: That's all he really does in this movie tho is rant.

B: All the towns in the world and I had to end up in this one. The ballsack town. Comedian kept a picture of Sally by his bed but that's backwards...she kept a picture of HIM on her bedside.

M: Rorschach found Comedian's secret closet where he went to be gay. Or a superhero. Or both. So he knows he's the Comedian.

B: Well, one or two of them were gay...a bunch of guys who wear their underwear outside their pants and this is somehow surprising? More slow mo.

M: This movie could be an hour and half shorter without all the pointless slo mo. Hollis is being played by Stephen McHattie and I love him so much.

B: Patrick Wilson (you can tell it’s Patrick Wilson because he looks exactly like Patrick Wilson) is playing Night Owl and he is a very good boy. The best boy. Although he doesn't have much competition for goodest boy, most of the boys are pretty bad. Hollis Mason is played up to be more Drunk Grandpa than caring mentor figure. Raw footage of Rorschach looking like FUCKING BIGFOOT. Your local cryptid.

*X-Files theme plays*

M: That was 20 seconds of super important extra footage that we missed from the original 3 hour long movie. Okay so movie, right. Drieberg goes home to find his home has been broken into. It's Rorschach. Eating beans. HUMAN BEANS. With HUMAN BEAN JUICE. We saw you lumbering around like Bigfoot on the news. Rorschach's mask is cool tho. One point for you, Zackk Snyder.

B: Rorschach, because he's a tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist is like " I think someone's killing masks" even tho only one mask person has died so far. Patrick Wilson is a good actor but his performance in this movie is so blech. I dunno if that was the direction he was given or...

M: Part two of things wrong with Watchmen. Lots of good actors giving boring performances. I love many of these actors but they're so dull.

B: Except Malin Ackerman. It was an experimental time, Chad! All of our Bro Moments. Our BROMENTS.

M: WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU, CHAD?!

B: Maybe Drieberg quit on account of the Keene act because it started being illegal to do the thing, but Rorschach didn't because he’s crazy. And he's doing more edgelord monologuing.

M: Holy crap the animation.

B: And now with NO CONTEXT we get launched into the Tales of the Black Freighter. It's an anime, apparently. (makes angry angry noises ) this makes me SO mad because the Black Freighter, though a story within a story, had an explanation for its presence. It's being read by someone within the bigger story. In the movie it almost looks like it was animated by Ralph Bakshi. Like the people who did Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and Ralph Bakshi had a bad trip together.

This is what I see, every night in my dreams.

M:  I guess this is being narrated by Gerard Butler?? This is so out of place. It takes you completely out of the immersion of the movie to show you this movie. That was super jarring though.

B: The comic had a lot more leeway when it came to blending the stories together. Oh and now we get a shot of someone reading the comic to bring us back. Rorschach in the comic was described as being fascinatingly ugly. I think Jackie Earl Haley is too good looking.

M: And Veidt. I hate everything they did with this entire fucking character. I hate the way he looks, the way he talks, the way he acts, the way he Veidts. I fucking hate him so much. I hate what they did with his story and the whole Manhattan cancer thing. It's DUMB.

B: Why is Dan here? It was Rorschach who warned Adrian. And they're talking about nuclear war, very important to the crux of everything. This lighting is ugly. It makes Veidt look like a greasy boy.

M: He IS a greasy boy.

B: Meeting with Dreiberg left bad taste in mouth. Like cold beans.

M: Rorschach is expositioning everything we've already seen, dialogue straight out of the comic.

B: Rorschach breaks in to see Manhattan. Rorschach asks the real questions: Does Adrian Veidt is gay??

M: That is a HUGE ASS. Btw Manhattan is naked. He is super naked. You will never be allowed to forget that he is naked.

B: Malin Ackerman shows up...to “act”.... The mention temporal interference already, so you won't be surprised at the end of the movie. They really overemphasize Manhattan's eye things. He looks like a sad panda. I have issues with his CGI, he is really over contoured and he looks really...weird....Laurie...stop talking. PLease. Don't act, don't try to act.

Pictured: Sad Panda

M: Now he's taking Laurie on some fucking weird time trip that was supposed to happen three hours from now in the story. Manhattan is just sad in this movie. All his rage and his indifference are gone. He's just sad. He tells her the future and he's sad about it. And now, 99 Luftballoons so we don't forget it's the 80's.

B: This wasn't how this happened in the comic EITHER. Zacque Snyder and his love of throwing random songs into movies with no regard for how they might impact the mood.

M: So Lori is having dinner with Dreiberg just like Jon told her too. I'm giving up on spelling any names right as of right now.

B: They reminisce about their young days when they fought crime and dressed up like lunatics and all that stuff. Ah those days are behind us. We're in our 40's but in the movie we're like 25. Jon thinks there's gonna be nuclear war and also he can't fix my bad acting. They turned Laurie into such a sexy lamp in this movie. They strip everything away from her that made her interesting. I am laurie, I am GIRL. Who needs oxygen when you have another man's money.

You so. Fuckin. Precious. When you. Smile.

M: The Sound of Silence begins playing. We both laugh and denounce Zaeck Snyder and the horse he rode in on.

B: Should have been Take me to Church. I didn't realize how awful the soundtracking was in this movie the first time. They just throw in recognizable songs.

M: Comedian is getting buried. Rorschach is here and Manhattan and Dreiberg. And Simon and Garfunkle. It's not making this scene better. It's making it so much worse. Lori has been randomly teleported to her mothers with zero context. Her mother is Carla Gugino who deserves better than being in this fucking movie. They quote dialogue right from the comic. Did Zaquery Snyder write ANY dialogue for this movie? Her old age makeup is fucking awful and she is overacting this so hard.

B: And then we have the flashback to old days where the Comedian tries to rape her. The entire purpose of this flashback in one sentence. That's the plot point. From the comic. That we need to get into the movie somehow. I suppose they're going for show don't tell. At the moment i'm just focused on how it extends this torturous experience.

M: I have a lot of issues with this part. He beats her far more severely in the movie. They start the scene almost making it look like she did ask for it with all the slow undressing. It's so fucking unnecessary.

B: And then Hooded Justice comes in and this doesn't make sense in the movie when Comedian asks him if he gets off on this. But since they don't get into this in the movie...I think they're just trying to get us to go OH THE COMEDIAN IS A BAD GUY, HE'S SUCH A BAD GUY. We can get that. Why does everything in this movie take so long?

M: Everyone is having flashbacks to their time with Eddie. Manhattan is blowing up the entirety of the viet cong while the Comedian shoots people and Ride of the Valkyries is playing for no reason.

In awe at the size of this lad.

B: NEXT TIME YOU INVITE JON.

M: And then we get the Comedian is a horrible person but AGAIN because he's gonna shoot this woman he knocked up and Jon doesn't stop him. Jon is so fucking ripped that even fuzzed out in the background you can see every muscle.

B: They tell the story of how Eddie got his scar even though he doesn't...have it in the movie? Yeah I killed that woman I knocked up but you didn't stop me because you don't care and well...you're not wrong.

M: And now Veidt gets to have HIS flashback so we can be sure that the Comedian really was an asshole. The Comedian informs everyone that their plan is garb while Jon and Laurel Ann make goo goo eyes at each other which will become relevant an hour ago because they're obviously a couple NOW. He sets Ozymandias’ (Veidt's) map on fire to emphasize his point.

B: Ozymandias will remember that. Watchmen would make a great Telltale game. And Dan has his American Dream flashback where the Comedian is helping with crowd control and we don't care what's going on because the Comedian looks DAMN HOT. In slow mo.

M: Biscuit's thirst meter has increased tenfold.

B: What happened to the American Dream? You're looking at it. Just as beefy and greasy as I imagined it. He had a really nice arm vein going on in that scene. I have a gif of that for uh...research purposes. Very swole.

Pictured: The American Dream

M: I just realized that I don't really thirst after anyone in this movie. The comedian is hot because Jeffrey Dean Morgan but my thirst level is so low comparatively. The only main chick is Malin Ackerman and uh...no.

B: You're getting gayer the older you get.

M: I can't even deny that.

B: Moloch! He's a former supervillian of sorts and Rorschach is chasing him down because uh...I don't know. He just shows up and is like Hey fuck you buddy.

M: I still want an explanation for why Moloch alone has pointed ears. Nobody else in the entire movie has that kind of deformity.

B: And he's like The Comedian just showed up in my house! He was drunk and crying! We've all been there. We've all broken into our former nemesis's house drunk and crying. Maybe that's just me...

M: Except that's what really happened....

B: And the Comedian is like - I did some fucked up shit but this is worse! The shit this unnamed bad guy is doing worse! And he says that Moloch and Manhattan’s old girlfriend are on some mysterious list!

M: It's Veidt. Rorschach tries to nail Moloch for taking a medication made from apricot pits. Which are POISONOUS BTW, DO NOT EAT THEM. Rorschach spends fucking ten more minutes slow mo fucking monologuing about shit we already know and JUST SAW. There's so much extra shit in this movie that does not need to be here. He sounds like fucking Wolverine. Is that Hollis?

B: I can't even tell because this movie is SO DARK. We get a feeble attempt to connect newspaper man and the animated comic.

M: At least it's less jarring. Comic man drools excessively for no reason. They're even leaving bits of THIS story out and making it even weirder and more disparate than it needs to be. Fucking why.

The nightmares, they never stop.

M: Okay Jesus they went from that straight to Loorie and Jon trying to have sexxors and this is so wrong and out of place. And then Jon is six people.

B: god. jon. stop. what are u doing? I took a theatre class in high school and all those kids were better actors than Malin Ackerman. Which is bad because Laurie is an integral character in Watchmen. This happened way earlier and this is why she ran away to Dan in the comic, but it's fine. It's fine. Whatever. I don't care. She gets mad but not really because acting.

M: Jon underacts but that's his entire thing. This is so disjointed. Jon is teleporting reactors to Karnak while they argue. This will be relevant later.

B: Three bepis, no FOUR! Too much bepis for my needs. Or not enough...

M: Jesus Christ.

B: And NOW laurie shows up at dan's place. We needed to drag this out because we were REALLY stretching to get this movie to feature length, y’know?? We were really scraping at the bottom of the Watchmen barrel for content. There's just not enough material to get a good long juicy film out of it.

M: Can we just skip this whole part? I'll summarize. Laurie and Dan spend half an hour whining at each other because Laurie and Jon had a fight and they kinda wanna bang but that will take three hours to get to as well for no good goddamn reason. Meanwhile Jon is putting on a suit to do a tv interview.

B: There's a lot of scenes of Dan and Laurie but there's no chemistry at all between them and there's no buildup to their actual relationship. Even Dan is so nothing in this movie and I liked him. And there's an article from the comic because this is JUST LIKE THE COMIC.

M: Why are they...oh they're going to Hollis...but this isn't how it happened. They literally make this longer for no reason.

B: I know it would be really hard to cut anything from Watchmen, because pretty much everything is significant - there's no material that can really be removed that wouldn’t be missed in the final product. BUUUT they just added a whole ton of meaningless shit to this damn movie! At the expense of scenes we actually wanted! Dr Manhattan has his tv interview. This is not gonna go well. Everyone is like wtf are you talking about Jon. Dan and Lori beat up a bunch of thugs because uh...they're living for thrills?

M: Some reporter dude stands up and starts shit with Manhattan. He accuses him of giving everyone cancer. I'm sorry I caused all that cancer. You'd think Jon would KNOW whether or not he caused cancer...he was a fucking physicist.

B: Jon doesn't know whether or not he's radioactive. Spoiler alert: he ain't. He's just had his intrinsic fields removed - really simple procedure, like taking out the appendix.

M: *cronches pizza rolls*

B: A lot less screen time for Janey Slater in the movie, too. She's like "PRETTY PATTIES TURNED MY FACE PURPLE!!!" and then Doc Manhattan teleports everyone out of the studio because he's very emotional rn. That makes...one person in this movie with intense emotions.

M: You're right there...nobody in this movie really shows much in the way of emotion. Everyone's just sorta like "well, the world's going to shit - huh." I REALLY don't like the way they incorporated Tales of the Black Freighter into this movie.

B: Idec what's happening in this stupid anime. Man wants to get home before the freighter. Builds raft out of bloated corpses. Freaky eyes. It's supposed to parallel various elements of the 'real world' storylines but it's so jarring that drawing those connections becomes nigh on impossible. In the comic, panels from TotBF were often right alongside panels from the main story, but you couldn't really do something like that in a movie. They also still don't really do anything with the newspaper corner bits.

M: Did they actually show Dr. Manhattan leaving Earth?

B: No. Not yet.

M: So they just throw us into this scenario?

B: Yep. Dr. Manhattan got ANGERY and was like "y'know what? I'm going to Mars to deliver some exposition!! Way later than this happened in the comic, but who gives a flying fuck??" And we sorta get the explanation of the way Jon perceives time - but again, much less effective than it was in the comic. Everything in this movie is so DARK. 'Dark and gritty' doesn't usually refer to the visuals of a story.

M: Jon got stuck in an experimental machine where they were doing SCIENCE. He got disintegrated.

B: Just look at the SYMBOLISM...I mean, uh, the time. Jon's narration sounds like ASMR. He eventually manages to reassemble himself, but now he's blue....and nAkEd.

M: This giant naked blue dude shows up and Janey is just like "Jon?? Is that you??"

B: Jon is super-powerful, so the govt lords him as a weapon and uses him to help end the Vietnam war, and a lot of references to nuclear power.

M: I know his symbol is supposed to be a hydrogen atom, but it kinda looks like the power button on an Xbox.

Particle man, particle man...

B: This movie feels significantly gorier than the comic...which is not necessary. Janey is worried about how powerful Jon is - or she just wants him to put some fuckin' pants on.

M: Speaking of things that take you out of the movie - Jon's ENTIRE backstory in one flashback. Worked in the comic, not in the movie.

B: Jon macks on a 16 year old girl and is like - why is this a problem? My girlfriend is getting old, I gotta get a new one. Also I'm tired of earth. Going to mars.

M: We literally zoom out from Jon's ass crack.

B: There is no reason to put a physical or cgi camera that close to anyone's ass crack.

M: Jon has fucked off and now they're interrogating Laurie about where he went. She randomly assaults one of them because she can? Why are we having this slo mo smoking moment? And now another flashback to the Comedian... oh right, we have to have Laurie's version of why this guy was a douchebag.

B: Eddie's like, you think I'd fuck my daughter? And Sally is like - yah you might.

M: The gubmint is freaking out because their giant blue naked nuclear weapon has gone to Mars. I hate the Nixon makeup so much. He looks so fake. They wasted their budget on Manhattan's cock. I can't believe we still have 2 hours of this shit left.

B: (separate tangent about her cat) I'd rather focus on my cat than this movie. Why is this scene happening? Why is it significant? Is it supposed to increase the tension with the whole nuclear war thing??

M: I don't know. Why is it going on for so long? They figured out he's on mars because there's a blue spot? Uh...Laurie is beating up a guy and chaining him to a radiator? What....What did that have to do with ANYTHING? The gubmint is now attacking Veidt for trying to create free energy...?

B: This scene is just for Ozymandias to explain his backstory...I guess??

M: I honestly have no idea what's going on.

B: It's supposed to parallel the scene in the comic where he talks about Alexander the Great and stuff...

M: This happened at the END of the comic tho.

B: But here it's just...confusing. The choices they made just generally leave you feeling confused. Not like the comic did. It's ‘Vight’. I'm right.

Adrian Veidt is gay is the most discussed in the media in the few years ago.

M: Oh and now the scene where a hitman shows up disguised as a pizza guy so we can slow mo more totally excessive gore.

B: There was plenty of violence in the comic but...you can be dark and edgy without being this damn gory. Dan and Laurie have yet another meaningless conversation at a table and now Dan is suddenly on board with Rorshach's paranoia??

M: And Dan invites her to come over but in the comic she literally ran to him immediately after Jon left. Jesus now Rorshach is fucking monologuing again. They're fucking with the order of events again and it's pissing me off.

B: They don't seem to do it with any rhyme or reason. You have to make changes to adapt to a medium but there's zero apparent reason for the changes in chronology...

M: Rorschach breaks into Moloch's house so he can get caught again. Why the fuck would Moloch know about any of this??

B: But Moloch is dead. It was a SET UP.

M: I'm losing all plot cohesiveness because of all this nonsense. I can't remember what actually happened. Ten minutes of Rorshach slow mo fighting his way out but he's gonna get caught because Veidt organized all this but they don't tell you that in the movie because of reasons.

B: We're not explaining a lot of the plot because it's happening so slowly. They caught Rorschach. They takin' im to prison.

M: Rorschach don't care. He got shit to do. And now maybe back to the animation...? Yes.

B: They do like 1/16th of this shit with the newstand corner. They should have just not at all done it. They just seem like framing to put the Black Freighter in there.

M: Except they don't do it every time, and that makes it worse. And they made weird ass changes to this story too. It's supposed to parallel what's happening in the main story but it's making NO SENSE.

B: This also adds nothing to the story and it breaks the immersion.

M: It mostly seems like an excuse to be gross. And now for Rorschach's mental health evaluation.

B: He's psycho bonkers crazy. Part of the concept of Watchmen is that everyone has issues. The complex psychology.

Look inside your local garbage and you may find a friend and boy.

M: Aw who cares about that. Let's shoot off some more fingers! We get his entire backstory in very very short flashbacks. He's still nuts.

B: This was over the course of quite a while in the comic.

M: Yeah but suddenly we're pressed for time in the seven hour long movie so we gotta condense his entire story into a ten minute scene. Which makes this feel rushed, which is fucking weird considering how drawn out every fucking thing in this movie is.

B: The comic felt like a bunch of stories being told at once but all tying in together at a certain point. Convergent stories The movie feels like a bunch of different stories that happen and then they're over. They're not tying anything together. (Biscuits starts singing Linkin Park because this part is so fucking dark)

M: So he's telling this story about how he killed a guy for kidnapping a girl and Biscuits is looking up the name of that song because she can't remember what it's called and still singing.

B: It's called Shadow of the Day...it’s like the one Linkin Park song I know

M: Okay. And Rorschach is gonna....kill this guy with a hatchet???

B: That is NOT how that happened. He tied him up and set that house on fire. But now he's gonna hit that guy in the head 20 times. And now he's Rorschach. There is no Laura, only Zuul.

M: ...Dana!!

B: Oh...Dana....is that from...

M: Ghostbusters!

B: I didn't wanna say it and have you be like - No it's from the Exorcist!

M: That would have been pretty funny in the exorcist. There is no Pazuzu, only Zuul.

B: Rorschach delivers the iconic line - I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me. The angrier he gets the more gravelly his voice gets. Meanwhile back at the ranch...Lori looks at Dan's shit.

M: You gotta be more specific. In this movie it might be actual shit. She's looking at this ship.

B: He's got some cool etchings, and a stamp collection. She sets things on fire. In the comic she thought it was the cigarette lighter. That's not how you put out a fire.

Laurie is an expert firefighter.

M: She doesn't have any brains.

B: She's an animatronic being controlled offscreen. Everything is so bland in this movie. We really aren't given any reasons to connect with Dan and Laurie.

M: This scene isn't helping either. It's boring and we don't care what's happening because we don't fucking care about Dan and Looooooorie. I can't think of a couple with less chemistry than these two.

B: Do you know what this means??

M: Yes.

B: We're getting close to the sex scene. It's like a case study in how not to do a sex scene in a movie. It's like the most awkward horrible thing that can be done. These scenes were in the comic, but not like this.

M: They're not gonna bang right now anyway because Dan can't get it up because uh...Adrian isn't doing gymnastics in the background and Unforgettable isn't playing.

B: Patrick Wilson's titty.

M: Did we really need to...

B: It's okay. Patrick Wilson is reasonably attractive. I would give those titties a six. Maybe a seven. Compared to having to see Malin Ackerman's tits, I would give them an 11. They're better than Manhattan's tits, which are cgen and disgustingly hyperdetailed.

M: BACK TO RORSCHACH. Who is being threatened by a little person named Big Figure because that's fucking funny. I guess. But it's also canon. And now Dan's dreaming but there's no actual meaning here because they do it wrong.

B: It really would have been better to put that in there after Dan and Laurie stop trying to bang instead of going to Rorschach?

M: And then IMMEDIATELY back to the animated parts with NO warning.

B: That was the worst editing I've ever seen. Sharks are eating the corpse boat.

M: I'm so confused. How did that shark get back up into the boat thing....

B: Who the fuck cares anymore.

M: Back to reality?? Snoop Dogg threatens the comic reading man because uh...

B: Snap back to reality...OH there goes gravity...something about spaghetti. And now back to Dan who is staring naked at his suit. There's too many behinds in this movie.

M: Are you gonna rate it?

B: I like plenty of naked behinds in other contexts.

M: I'm not even gonna ask.

B: Dreiberg is pretty ripped for being supposedly flabby and old. Laurrrrrie decides they should go fight crime.

Unfortunately, Malin Akerman.

M: Night Owl's costume is so bad. Like Ozymandias’ costume and...most of the costumes.

B: Laurie's costume is mostly see through because she can't fight crime if she's not sexy. We don't get any explanation of Dan's bird love in the movie. He's a good bird boy. That's a tongue twister.

M: They're saving people from a fire. I kinda want to go take a nap.

B: Why is he shooting into the burning building???

M: I don't know! Oh it's a water tower.

B: I thought he was just shooting up a burning building.

M: I'm sorry but she would be DEAD from that backdraft. There is no way. So now they gotta drop people off so they can bang in the owlship. Which I don't wanna see. SKIP.

B: This isn't how this happened in the comic at all.

M: Back to Rorschach again. They don't do the whole language pun thing which was so fucking cool in the comic. Big Figure. Small world. Why is all Rorschach's shit cut out??? Don't tell me they didn't have time. They see one dead guy and they know Rorschach is alive?

B: Professional dead guy appraiser.

M: Oh yeah there's a whole prison riot going on but we don't know why in the movie because they don't explain it.

B: Now Dan and Lari are gonna beat up some guys but it's so fucking dark it's like I'm watching Fan4stic. More slow mo.

M: They had to cut Rorschach's story to make time for all the slow mo.

B: I hate Night Owl's outfit. Leri's doesn't look anything like the comic either. I punched that guy! I'm a strong independent woman!

M: Rorschach goes to kill Big Figure in the bathroom which also fucks up what happened in the comic. Luri calls Rorschach an idiot and they start bitch fighting but Dan is like come on we gotta go. We have an hour left. We have to start building each other up.

B: (sings Livin' on a prayer )

M: NOT HOW THIS HAPPENED EITHER. Jon shows up after they get back and kidnaps Liri to mars where there's no air because he's a dick like that.

B: Diet bepis.

M: Laurie somehow knows she's on Mars because there's a giant glass sculpture there. Like on Mars. You know. Back to Snoop and his gang who randomly decide to take out Night Owl but pick the wrong one and beat up Hollis. Poor Hollis.

Yep, definitely Mars.

B: Obviously the editors don't care about the timeline either. Liri's mother is on the phone with Hollis talking about what happened the night before but I thought this was the same night? Who genuinely cares?

M: This movie is rated almost 5 stars on Amazon. You go Hollis, punch at least one of em!

B: The gang beats up Hollis and kills him because it's JUST LIKE THE COMIC. Hollis has flashbacks while he's getting killed. And killed by his own award. But we don't get the scene where he GOT the award. It's fine. I'm not mad.

M: Back to fucking Rorschach and Dan and Laurie and I'm tired of typing that sentence. Rorschach suddenly is sure it's the pyramid people doing all the bad but he has no fucking evidence? Dan lays the smack down and the bromance can continue.

Just like back in college...

B: We're just two dudes in a rad bromance....They're going to an underworld bar because they're looking for seedy dudes.

M: How would these dudes even know about the pyramid thing?

B: That's just how Rorschach do. Follow the money. Rorschach writes a lot of youtube conspiracy videos.

M: Dan finds out some dude helped kill Hollis.

B: Also back on Mars...ugh..his dick is moving back and forth and I know that’s realistic but ugh...It’s different when it’s just a still panel in a comic and not...this...you're made of molecular nothingness, can't you just suck it up into your body or something?

M: Back on Mars Jon goes on his seven hour long predestination trip while his dick wiggles.

B: Jon I have feelings, pls believe me.

M: You can't fucking...you can't...you can't fucking take all this dialogue and re-arrange it and make it work. It doesn't work, now it just seems empty and nobody cares. Lauree was having a total breakdown because Jon wanted HER to make him save the entire earth and now just stand there looking bored.

B: Dan and Ror have broken into Veidt's office searching for answers. Dan is an expert hacker. Creator's name was Jeff Jeff, born on the eighth of Jeff, 19-Jeffity-Jeff. So I put in 'Jeff'.

M: Do they even mention in the movie that Adrian Veidt is supposed to be like, the 'smartest man in the world'? Actually, we don't really learn anything about Veidt in this movie...What do we really know about him? He's rich? He makes plans? Possibly homosexual?

B: *Hacker voice* I'm in. Boys Folder, iconic. Veidt doesn't really keep his most secret government and corporate secrets very...well-hidden. Next to his boys, yanno.

M: Adrian had a team of like three people in the comic. His suit...

B: It has nip- It has NIPPLES!!!

M: *chokes to death laughing* I've never heard anyone so angry about nipples in my whole life.

A toast, to my suit’s nipples.

B: Did Batman and Robin teach the human race nothing???!!? Nipples on superhero costumes = a bad idea. Veidt has killed all his scientists. AND NOW - My Bubastis rant. Whhyyyyy is Bubastis in this fucking movie??????? She just shows up in this scence with NO EXPLANATION. Just, "oh hey...Ozymandias has a giant mutant lynx." and why would she even EXIST in this continuity - he doesn't need the eugenics program in this version of the story. Was he just like "I want a mutant cat, please make me one."

M: How do we still have 50 minutes of movie left??? Oh, I guess...Tales of the Black Freighter. This is still going on. Crazy guy has reached land and kills some people, believing his hometown has been taken over....who really cares. Was there really anyone clamoring for them to put this into the movie?

B: *basically says nothing for this entire bit*

M: *basically says nothing for this entire bit*

B: NO TRANSITIONS, YEAH!

M: Now we're back to have the least impassioned discussion about saving the world ever. "Jon, no, everyone will die...." That's not how this happened - that's not how ANY of this happened. Y'know what, Jon, ya big naked blue freak...

B: Laurie sounds like a teenager who's mad that her parents won't buy her a car.

M: "Do that thing you do..." This is making me irrationally angry, and I've seen this TWICE.

B: This part makes me SO mad. Irrationally mad. They fuck this up so much. We do not get any context to explain how much Laurie hated the Comedian, and why him being her father is such a big deal.

M: Also, in the comic, it was a big deal that Laurie had this realization of her own volition. It came naturally as she tried to fight back her past memories (which were not at all like this), instead of just being magically brought out by Jon.

B: They completely squander Laurie's biggest moment of emotional development, in turn squandering Jon's turning point in deciding to save the world

M: I liked the whole snowglobe bit in the comic...I thought that was like really powerful, but in this she just...throws a temper tantrum.

B: Ugly cry face. At least...I think she's crying. Might just have smelled some expired doppelganger. Jon's speech about life is also...rushed. And they leave out my favorite line. “Come, dry your eyes, for you are life - rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg.”

Acting, I think...

M: Laurie looks like she doesn't understand a single thing Jon's saying to her right now. "Jon...you're talking science again, and I don't understand it."

B: I've already complained about the inappropriate scoring. It hasn't gotten any better.

M: So Dan and Ror are heading to Antartica at record fucking speed. Rorschach tries to tell Dan how to drive the fucking ship Dan designed and built. All Along the Watchtower is playing at record loudness for no reason. Somehow they made it to Antartica in five minutes.

B: They're heeeeeere.

M: If Veidt knew they were coming why wouldn't he just open the door instead of letting them fry it with lasers? Veidt is sitting there pretending that he doesn't notice them creeping in to kill him. Suddenly we are shown that Veidt is somehow some superhuman fighter and gymnast which wasn't included in the movie at all.

B: Come on and SLAM. Hello there, sailors.

M: And now for some exposition while a vigorous swordfight is going on. Not really. Veidt is still going on and on about how smart he is and how he organized all this shit.

B: As with any mystery, it ends with the villian explaining how he did everything.

M: In the comic he literally says he's not a comic villian and wouldn't do that, but you know.

B: I could have sworn there was an alien in here....like there was something vaguely about an alien?? This is alien invader erasure and I will not tolerate it. That would break the suspension of disbelief, I guess. If Veidt wanted to make an alien and use that to unite the world.

M: Yeah that would be bonkers, especially in a world where giant naked blue men with god powers exist.

B: He is smart enough not to monologue BEFORE he pulled off his evil plan.

M: And now we see earth exploding or whatever because of Veidt and uh...suddenly we're back at the fucking animated comic.

B: The whole idea of him uniting the world against Manhattan just doesn't click for me. The alien was supposed to be neutral, to be anomalous. It also doesn't make sense that he would drive Jon to leave earth.

M: Way to pull us the fuck out of the super important ending. Slow zoom back out to the kid reading the comic who complains that it makes no sense. I feel you kid.

B: They're trying to pull everything together here with the clock and the therapist guy and everything but it was all crushed by the alien invader but now it's just Dr Manhattan's..energy force?? But they'll be able to recognize that it was Manhattans? Didn't they know that Veidt was trying to use his energy too??

M: Yes.

B: Oh it's bad. Oh no.

Bubastis’ one moment in the movie...

M: Jon and Lurie return to earth post uh..time bomb or whatever. Jon realizes the energy signature is here. He is not muddled or confused or anything though like he is in the book, so he just immediately goes to Antartica to kick Veidt's ass but then immediately goes through the intrinsic field subtractor like a fucking moron. Why would this even effect Jon? Why would the smartest man alive not figure out that it wouldn't work?

B: Laurie says things....she shoots Veidt but he catches the bullet because he's uh..just that radical. Stuff is happening.

M: For not being a comic book villian Veidt is super fucking acting like a goddamn comic book villian. Jon shows up all super huge now and he's kinda mad at Veidt. But not that mad. Veidt uses his magical remote control to show melty face Nixon demanding peace.

B: And this works because...why not?

M: Because the fucking movie has to end SOMETIME. In the comic there were hundreds of screens showing everything but you know...America. Veidt is like - this is our victory Jon and Jon SHOULD be like - you used me to blow people up dude. Fuck you.

B: Uh uh, can't do that, you'll screw up the peace! Rorschach is like fuck no, I ain't keeping this a secret.

M: I'd side with Rorschach with this tbh, Veidt is a fucking madman. He's like the fucking Governor from the Walking Dead. Ror goes out to try and tell the world but Jon kills him.

B: But of course he wouldn't do that, he told the world 35 minutes ago!

M: He literally did. Rorschach explodes and Dan gets all sad. That was my favorite Rorschach! Now Patrick Wilson's ugly cry face.

I loved that Rorschach like a Rorschach...

B: Jon decides to leave and Laurie is like but why and he's like - well I can't go back to earth NOW.

M: I don't understand why Dan is trying to kick Veidt's ass now. He already agreed to let the mass murder slide. Veidt seems unconcerned.

B: We don't get the whole nothing ever ends quote either, which was a big deal in the comic.

M: They fucked the ending hard though. Like with a chainsaw.

B: They fucked the whole movie hard. With like 17 giant dicks. This shit is way fucked.

M: So I guess Dan and Lbrbbrie go back home? And visit her mom cos you know.

B: And all the reconciliation Lrry had to do in the comic is reduced to one pathetic encounter with her mother. And it means NOTHING because we only get one little scene where Loree is SAD. The whole movie is this way. It's just a bunch of stuff that HAPPENS.

M: I don't give a shit about any of these characters. There's a lot of Lyrie and Dan kissy facing and talking about stuff that doesn't matter now.

B: Nothing ever ends but that's not..at all the way it was supposed to be done...at all.

M: WHY ISN'T THIS OVER, GOD. Straight outta the fucking comic we get the last bit where the greasy kid pulls Rorschach's fucking notebook out of the crank file to publish it so 30 years later they could write the mess that is Doomsday Clock.

B: Not EVEN gonna get into that. That's a whole other screaming fit. But that’s a comic, not a movie.

M: *AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING TO DESOLATION ROW*

B: *AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING TO DESOLATION ROW*

M: I don't have any closing thoughts. I'm tired of typing. I hate this movie. I hate what they do to every fucking Alan Moore venture. He deserves better. Write less deep shit Alan and they might actually do you right one day.

B: I find the existence of this movie to be a highly overrated phenomenon. I do, however, fucking love the My Chemical Romance cover of Desolation Row.

Munch and Biscuits out, yo.

[babyboyoonie]

Hello my love could you do one where bts go to a club an a guy keeps hitting on yoongi an then he lik grabs onto yoongi an yoon starts getting uncomfortable then one of the boys notices an helps out then the rest of bts get over protective? With some fluff? Idk if you wanna do this tho but if you do thanks you a lot hope you’re doing well ~~

nice prompt darling! here you go ♥

Yoongi sometimes wonders why he’s friends with these guys. Okay, it only lasts for a few mediocre seconds before he erases the thought and goes back to loving them unconditionally. But still. He wants to be mad, he should be mad. At them, and maybe a little bit at himself. Scratch that, he’s absolutely mad at himself, Min Yoongi is a foolish foolish one who never learns. There’s ‘boo boo the fool’ written in bold, conspicuous letters right there on his forehead. For everyone to see, for his friends to abuse this side of him with childish glee.

They are laughing childishly at him right in this instant. Gazes varied degree of glee for some, and regret for others. Great people like Seokjin and Namjoon. Bless them, Yoongi’d give his first newborn to them. He’s being a total drama queen but he has the right to. Who wouldn’t, after being tricked into coming to one very high-end and very suspicious-looking club? He’s pretty sure he saw some strippers on the way.

Yoongi wants death.

“Aw hyung, we just want you to live a little!” Hoseok says, poking at his cheek with an insistent finger. He’s lucky Yoongi’s a civilized being enough to not bite him. He’s sorely tempted to, though. His eyes must say it all, because Hoseok takes his finger back with a nervous smile. Smart man.

Well, of course. The only fool here is Yoongi. Foolish enough to still trust Jimin’s angelic smiles and Jungkook’s sweet words even after all those years. It’s becoming a problem, and he doesn’t even know how to get help. At this point, he’s pretty sure his case’s hopeless. Tough face and few words aren’t enough to hide the fact he’s just too fucking soft for them.

He’s so damn soft, his resolve to give them the silent treatment crumbles in pieces at something around ten minutes in the operation. Jimin and Taehyung are pouting and Jungkook’s giving him this face. The ‘you know you don’t want to be mad at me’, all big eyes and endearingly hopeful, tugging at Yoongi’s heart-strings until he sighs in defeat. He’s a fool. Jungkook breaks in a triumphant and cocky grin when he sees him deflate. Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin aren’t too far behind, a bit less cocky and a lot more evil.

Namjoon pats his thigh in support, Seokjin gripping his shoulder softly while cooing at him. “Whatever,” he mumbles as they cheer, playing with his cocktail with a sullen pout. “I’m not dancing with you.”

He closes his eyes, humming in his drink and ignoring their protests to the best of his abilities. There was a high chance he’ll break if he looked at any of them right now. Especially with the way Hoseok throws himself across Namjoon to reach him again, cupping his cheeks and wailing af if the world had ended. Oh God. Yoongi takes a deep breath, puts his glass down and tries to push him away.

Obviously, he fails, and Hoseok stays attached to his cheeks like some sort of octopus. A cute octopus. A cute and affectionate and hard to resists octopus. Jimin eyes them like he’s ready to join the pile, and Yoongi’s really not having it. “What? Don’t look at me like that, I’m not dancing.” Because he sucks at dancing. They’re all fucking amazing even without a choreography, and no matter how appealing the music is, he’s not ready to make a bigger fool of himself tonight. Not in front of them.

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow, and Hoseok clings to him tighter, uncaring of the state of Namjoon he’s probably cutting the breath of. The poor man’s turning blue, Yoongi’s a bit concerned. “But hyung,”

“But nothing,” he grumbles, wonders how they manage to hear him with how loud the music is. Maybe it had something to do with the way they’re all leaned toward him, attentive and alert like he’s been generous enough to share the meaning of life in this one fateful moment. Sometimes, they were way too suspicious. A guy could get some ideas. It was almost like they were all, in some sort, interested in Yoongi’s bland and boring self.

Hah.

He sighs, doing his uttermost to not meet any of their gaze and choosing instead to detach Hoseok from himself. To everyone’s surprise, he fails again. “I’m here aren’t I? That should be enough.”

Namjoon finally manages to drags Hoseok away from Yoongi’s abused cheeks, to the man’s loud protests, barely heard under Jungkook’s shout. “It’s not!”

“And you’re greedy. Go have fun guys, I’ll be watching you, drinking this wonderful cocktail and wallowing in the fact life gave me such manipulative friends—no offense to you Jin-hyung, Joon-ah.”

Yoongi thinks he hears Jungkook mumbles about him being a drama-queen, and really, the audacity of this kid. Just for that, he is going to wax poetry about being tricked into coming here in a dozens cocktails.

“None taken. I’ll—we’ll stay here for the time being yeah?” Jin nods, shuffling closer to Yoongi and shrugging an arm around his shoulders. Yoongi leans into it, and stays there, pout firmly in place and eyes closing dramatically.

Those stubborn children linger for a good half an hour before Yoongi manages to make them go. And then it’s just Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi resting in a heart-warming bubble of conversations and tingling laughter. Yoongi doesn’t say much, content with resting on Jin’s broad shoulder, retaining pleased moans when Namjoon’s hand goes back to massaging his thigh. He’s quite, ah, confused at this kind-of intimate touch, but the thought of putting a stop at it doesn’t brushes his mind at all.

It’s good, he’s sensible there, and Namjoon knows where to touch, where to grip, where to let his hand grabs the entirety of Yoongi’s thigh in a way that says it all about what he would do if they were alone. Preferably in a bed, naked and—

And wow, okay, where did this came from?

He doesn’t manage to enter this state of drowsiness he was in before. Can’t keep his thoughts away from Namjoon’s touch, from the way Jin would sometimes turn his head and place a gentle kiss on Yoongi’s forehead. From the way his hand would grip Yoongi’s other thigh too.

What were they actually doing? Yoongi’s been trying his best to not look too far into their constant touch, he’s been trying his damn best and here they went doing things like this.

An hour may have passed, or more, but Yoongi didn’t manage to relax at all. Their hand were still here, firm and comforting, and oh God, Yoongi had to get himself out of this situation before he went crazy.

So he proposes—proposes to go dancing. Ignores their surprised and suspicious glance, and drags them toward the mass of dancing body. The dance floor was huge. That should have deterred Yoongi. But he had a bit too many drinks in his system, let himself go wild along with a cheery, summer-music, until the laughing faces of his friends were replaced by unfamiliar ones.

Yoongi should have just—just come back to their table. There was a man who had eyed him since the damn moment he entered the club. Disappeared when Yoongi stayed locked in Jin’s and Namjoon’s embrace. But he was here now, eyeing him insistently.

But he had drank. A lot. Hadn’t been limited, because he was with Namjoon and Jin, and as long as they had their eyes on him then they let him be. But they weren’t here anymore, and the stranger appeared and disappeared in the crowd, gaze clearly interested and alight with something…predatory.

Yoongi’s muddled brain doesn’t register the situation, the danger, and it isn’t long before he’s dancing along the people that approached him out of the blue. Alcohol loosens his tongue, takes away the shame that comes with dancing and makes Yoongi think everything’s bright in the best fucking way possible.

The only things that matters are the music, and the fact he’s having fun even after making a whole four-seasons and-three-epilogues-long drama just an hour or two ago. The only things that matter are the fact that the music changed, that it’s slow and sensual and Yoongi may or may not enjoy those a tad bit much.

Then there’s—

There’s a man settling against Yoongi’s back, attractive, he thinks vaguely as he looks behind him. The thing is, he doesn’t really think. Rationally, that is, because he kind of can see that this man’s the same one that has been eyeing him all night. But Yoongi doesn’t think. Yoongi can’t quite distinguish what’s wrong and right in this instant, only lets himself be immersed in the fucking glorious music and the way it makes him want to, to tear his clothes away from him.

The man chuckles in his ear as his hands settle on Yoongi’s hips, rocking him slowly sideways into a languorous dance. Yoongi…Yoongi enjoys the music. Enjoys slightly bending down sometimes, rolling his hips to the slow beat and imagining that his band mates are here with him. Yoongi enjoys going wild in the most quiet and sensual way but—

He definitely doesn’t enjoy being touched this way. It’s slow at the beginning, the touch barely there, but when Yoongi relaxes, the hands settle around his waist more firmly, dragging him against a hard chest and the man’s…excitement, down there.

Yoongi thinks he might be sick.

He pursues his lips, not enjoying himself at all anymore. Furrows his brows and tries to swallow the knot in his throat, when he realizes he can’t shake off the man’s arms away from him. And Yoongi, fucking Yoongi who’s never in difficulty to express himself can’t open his mouth to tell the guy—no. Grips the strong arms around him and tries to shake them off, but the man doesn’t let go, only grinds against him harder and mutters in his ear—“shh doll, you’re going to like it”, but no, Yoongi doesn’t want to like it, Yoongi doesn’t want to be here, he just wants the man to let him go but he won’t budge—

Someone violently wrenches him away from the man’s hold. Yoongi shakily breathes out, tongue heavy and useless in his mouth, skin burning but so fucking cold and relief battling with the horror still etched on his expression.

He—he nearly cries from relief when he realizes it’s Jungkook. Takes some trembling steps away from the stranger, eyes-wide, the haze of alcohol disappearing only to leave behind a deeply-rooted fear. This wasn’t happening, he hadn’t been fucking molested against his will that was—“Get the fuck away from him you piece of shit,”

“Whoa boy—go get your own, I’ve seen his tight little ass first.”

Yoongi grimaces, hugs his arms around himself to hide the violent shivers the man’s words elicited in him.

“Don’t—don’t fucking talk about him like that, you have no right to even look at him.” Jungkook’s hands on his shoulders tightens, spitting the words out in a clear-as-day disgusted tone.

It might have hurt if Yoongi wasn’t fucking drinking into the touch, heart frozen and having broken into cold sweat at the thoughts of what could have happened. He leans back against Jungkook’s chest when the stranger’s eyes rack him from his head to his toes. It’s—he—he doesn’t even try to hide his excitement, licks his lips and leaves Yoongi disgusted, disgusted and so goddamn vulnerable.

“Hah. I looked, kid. Touched him too. And if you don’t mind, we have something to finish.”

And the man has the audacity to reach for him. Vile smirk and ugly sneer in his previously attractive face, Yoongi feels Jungkook tense behind him, feels him growl menacingly and oh God there’s going to be blood and—

“I don’t think you’ve heard him well,” there’s someone else, and, heavens, it’s Taehyung, Taehyung who puts himself between the stranger and Yoongi’s trembling body, Taehyung whose back Yoongi latches on immediately, blinks and wonders if this is really happening to him. Jungkook’s hands massage his shoulders slowly, and he thinks they’re trembling too, and when he peeks at his expression—he finds him mad. Jaw clenched and eyes burning with fury, body so tense Yoongi’s scared that if Taehyung wasn’t here, he would have ended the man right here for everyone to witness. “Scramble. Now.”

Taehyung had seemed composed but then again—his anger is scarier. It’s the calm one, the cool one. The one that is cold, cold and painful for the one at the receiving end. Taehyung’s voice was freezing when he talked. Soft and deep words cutting the air, the music, thundering in the flashing lights and turning the furnace of the club into something much cooler.

Yoongi hears more than he sees the guy scramble away, because of the crowd parting, because of the light growl Jungkook releases and the movement he makes for going after the guy.

All that he knows is that the guy and his phantoms hands are gone. Bile rise in his throat, and he might look pitiful or, or have released a pathetic sound, because Jungkook brings him into a back hug and whispers reassuring nothings in his ear. He hears him, settles down a bit, by more because of his voice and less because of the fear receding—it’s still here, doesn’t go away.

He doesn’t cry. Not because he thinks he might look stupid or something—no, they’re way past the point of being ashamed of crying. He doesn’t cry because, because…the tears just won’t come. His chest is tight and, and he keeps scratching at it, scratching and scratching until Taehyung takes his burning hand in his, before dragging him into a tight, warm embrace. He smells like the moon and cherries and home after being gone too long. Yoongi clings to him, clings and clings until he’s curled in Taehyung’s arms, surrounded by Jungkook’s scent and warmth, trying and trying again to forget the unwanted and cold hands that have been on his body.

It…works. Kind, kind of? No sounds reach him, not the loud music, not the loud voices of those that’ve been close to them, no nothing.

He falls underwater, he thinks. Something around the shock and the alcohol and the sheer fucking thankfulness of having Jungkook and Taehyung intervene before—

When he swallows, he resurfaces. Comes back to being curled in Hoseok’s lap on the couch of their home, Namjoon and Hoseok not too far away, stances still tense and protective, as if ready to fight away whatever threat there may be to Yoongi’s well being.

God. He’s so damn thankful to have them he—

—he kind of cries, then.

There are hands caressing softly his hair, fingers that may or may not be Jungkook’s wiping away his tears, and once again they’re all here and Yoongi dies a little. Dies the most beautiful death, of too much flowers called love dancing in his chest, threatening to fall from his lips and confess the deep and irreversible adoration he has for them.

He must be delusional, still under the influence of alcohol, but under every touch they make on his skin—he feels the fire of his feelings reciprocated.

It’s a…nice illusion, he thinks, wrily.

Later on, the bundle of uncomfortableness and fear crumbles away. It lingers for a bit, a bit that is an hour or two or three, before the kisses on his forehead and on his neck are enough. Before Jimin tucks him in bed. Bed they, funnily enough, end up not using. His friends get too worried, it seems, because he sees their anxious face peeking into the room one by one.

They don’t use the bed. Instead, it’s seven boys in a blanket fort on the ground, and Yoongi sleeps without a care in the world, tucked and snug in the center of an all-encompassing hug vibrating with caresses and affection. He dares to think, before sleep takes him, that the way they look at him and curl protectively around whatever part of his body they can reach—doesn’t seem platonic at all. May be more than friendship.

But then again, it might just be wishful thinking, huh?

It might be…