#though i could have lived without THAT scene

[l4zyb0n35]

THE BREAKING POINT

SMUT FIC

PAIRING: Alastor x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is a diligent worker, much to the chagrin of her partner, Alastor. Despite his efforts to get her to stop for both their sakes, Y/N remains steadfast in her duties. However, Alastor finds a loophole to this situation.

WARNINGS: Really really great awesome writing skills, Established romantic relationship, (can be seen as dating, fiancé, or married), AFAB reader, usage of Y/N, Sexual content (obv), Mature themes, Mature language, Nudity, Breastfeeding, Unprotected sex, MINORS DNI FOR UR OWN SAFTEY, Alastor manipulates her but only to get her to stop cleaning the hardwood floor, Alastor kinda controls her but not too much. Let me know if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.<

WORDS: 2.4k

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

You were a very hardworking woman around the hotel, to say the least.

Your excuse? “Well, Charlie is just dealing with so much, what’s my help going to harm but not… help?”

Ever since your dear partner, Alastor, invited you to live with him in his hotel room at the Hazbin Hotel, just to be closer as a couple,

You would not stop fucking working.

It’s driving him mad.

He has recently tried everything to get you to relax, to take it easy for once, but you were too stubborn for that. He couldn’t even believe how much work you did for such a small pay. It was honestly ridiculous since you weren’t even a maid, if that was what you were thinking.

So what if you were a bit of a clean freak, it wasn’t any reason to clean the entire damn hotel every day, including the outside, may we add.

You wouldn’t listen to his advice though, no matter how many times he told you to stop.

“Y/N, I swear if you keep cleaning the hotel I’m gonna…do something very bad,” he threatened one day while you were scrubbing down the lobby.

You chuckled, ignoring his threat.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart, m’ not gonna lose a limb.” you said with a smile.

Alastor sighed, watching as you continued to scrub the floors.

“You’re just being stubborn, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath.

‘My last resort, I suppose.’ he concluded in his thoughts, looking around to make sure nobody would hear them.

After making sure that they were alone at the scene, he walked back over to you, trying to fix his composure.

“…When will you come back to bed with me, dear? It’s been cold without you.” Alastor said, kneeling down to her level as he put on his fake facade.

You paused for a moment and turned to him, “Aw, Al, you miss my spot being filled in the bed?” You said, rubbing his shoulder.

He nodded, “It’s never the same without you, I’m afraid.” He tried to soften his smile.

“…You’re not just saying that, right?” You said, losing your smile and pausing your hand.

“What? No-no. I would never lie to you dear.” He said, defending himself.

“…When do you want me in bed, hm?” You said, picking up your supplies and ignoring your suspicions, “I need to shower, after all.” You added.

Alastor stood up, “Now?” He asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Mm, sure.” You nodded, walking off with your bucket of cleaning supplies.

He silently celebrated his victory.

* * *

Alastor’s ears perked up as he heard the shower turn off.

He was currently laying in bed with only a robe on and some boxers, staring off into the bayou and he brainstormed what he could do to get you to stop working.

He decided a couple minutes ago that his only option left were to ‘have intercourse’.

It was quite smart, actually. All he had to do was take your ability to walk.

So he waited as your blow dried your hair, trying to ignore his unpleasant boner from beneath the cloth of his boxers.

He waited even more when you picked which robe to wear to bed,

which, as you stepped out the steamy chamber, was a red silk robe with Alastor’s initials on it, your favorite.

He had a smug look on his face, seeing you step out in his clothing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You said, seeing Alastor sitting up in bed.

He smiled at you, “No worries, dear,” he said, standing up and putting his hands on your hips.

“I was just waiting for you to come to bed.” He said, bringing his lips close to yours.

You laughed softly, pulling back after a moment, “What’s the occasion, dear?” You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes.

“Hmm?” He asked, confused.

“Why are you acting so lovey-dovey with me? Is it Valentine’s Day already?” You laughed again, resting your head against his chest.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, darling.” He said, leaning forward and kissing your temple.

“But, really, what’s the occasion?” You asked, moving back to give him space.

“Well…” He said, thinking quickly, “I figured you deserved a break after all of that hard work you put in recently.” He said, smiling again.

“Oh, your so sweet, Al.” You commented, caressing his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, “Yes…so i decided, what better to do so than taking your ability to walk for the next morning?” He sighed sweetly.

You paused, “…forget about Valentine’s day, did rut season come early?” You said, raising an eyebrow.

Alastor grinned, “It’ll definitely feel like it.” He said, grabbing your waist and laid you flat on the bed.

He moved down to your neck, kissing and suckling on it.

“Alastor…” You laughed out softly, more in a mumble.

“…Sshh, just let me do my thing, okay?” He whispered in your ear, continuing into your neck until he was sure to leave a mark, latching off of it with a ‘pop’.

He then made his way down, stopping at your breasts, cupping them in his hands and giving each nipple a gentle tug before resting his lips onto one of them.

He sucked and nibbled on it, moving to the other breast and doing the same.

He stopped, hearing you moan quietly under him, “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, looking up at your face.

“Oh, yes,” you gasped out, feeling your legs go weak as you lay there, “Keep going.” You added, running your fingers through his hair.

Alastor smiled, continuing to kiss your breasts until he felt you get wetter and wetter.

He sat up, sliding your robe off of you and throwing it somewhere across the room, leaving you in just your panties.

His eyes widened a bit at the sight of your body, “How did i end up with a sinner so beautiful.” He said, resting his head on your stomach, giving the fat of your hip a squeeze.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs, stopping at your panties and pulled them off of you, tossing them aside.

He then spread your legs apart and started to rub your clit gently with his thumb.

You let out a soft moan as you let out a jolt throughout your body from the contact, “F-fuck…” You breathed.

Alastor smiled and brought his free hand to your mouth, “Lick.” He commanded, placing his index finger on your tongue.

You obeyed, tasting your juices on his fingers.

He swiftly pulled the claw out your mouth, then slowly slipping two of them into your gummy walls.

You moaned out again as he curled his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of your hole.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean as he moved your body to the center of the bed, sitting on his knees atop of you.

“Now,” he grabbed your left left, throwing it stop his shoulder, “You know the safe word, dear?” He said, grabbing ahold of his member and teasing your entrance with it.

You nodded, moving your hips for some more friction.

“Needy, I see…” You pulled his cock farther from her, “I need words, dear.”

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You struggled out.

He started to fist his member slowly, “Wouldn’t want to hurt my prized possession.”

After a moment, he pulled his hand away to put another leg up on his shoulder, scooting in and rubbing his duck along your slick folds.

“O-oh….” You breathed out as his meat hit your nub, “P-Put it in, Al…” You mumbled.

“Hm, what was that?” He stoped his member, resting it upon your nub as a tease.

You bit your lip, grinding against his dick, desperate for him to put it in.

He chuckled, pulling it back, making you stop.

You let out a whimper.

Alastor looked at you with a lustful look, his smile widening. “I need you to beg for it, dear.” He claimed, enjoying the moment.

You blushed, looking away for a moment.

Alastor tilted his head, grabbing his member again and started fisting it slowly.

You gulped, looking back at him, still not meeting his gaze, and whispered something incoherent.

He grasped your chin, turning it so you would look at him. “What’s wrong dear? losing interest in my so suddenly?” He said, making you shake your head, “Hm…then beg for it.”

"Please, Alastor, put yourself inside of me, fill me up, fuck me, please!” You begged, moving your hips for a feeling.

He stopped your hips, growling as he pushed himself inside of you without any warning, making you moan loudly.

“F-fuck…” you cursed from the sudden movement, trying to squirm away automatically.

Alastor noticed this, pausing his movement as he grabbed your arms, then your hips and waist, getting you to stop, “What’s wrong dear?”

You looked at him, “…k-kiss me?”

He smiled softly, “Anything for my doe.” he said, leaning down and kissing you directly on the mouth.

Although, as he leaned down, his dick moved further inside you, causing you to let out a jolt once again.

He caressed your hair, “It’s already in, dear,” he mumbled lovingly on your lips, “you’ve done your work, now just relax. I’ll do everything else.”

Waiting until you nodded, he pulled away and slowly began to pull out, before thrusting in swiftly, but gently.

You whimpered softly, gripping the sheets under you.

He pulled out and pushed in again, slowly building a rhythm.

He began to thrust faster, more cruel, “Oh, Alastor…” you moaned out, holding your hands around his neck.

Wet skin slapping together filled the room’s noises, alongside the crickets in the bayou, making you blush from the awkward noises.

Alastor noticed this, beginning to buff out his breaths and growls, and silently sent over his shadow to turn on the radio to a quiet, intimate jazz station.

“Hah…Alastor…” You breathed out as he shushed you, thrusting faster.

His cock rubbed against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

After a while, Alastor started to feel a familiar coil in his abdomen, grunting as he forced his hips to go at an ungodly pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna fuck you so good, darling…” He huffed, “Fill you up…you won’t be leaving this bed, understand?” Making you look at him directly and he moved your head with a tendril.

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You mumbled, trying to hold eye contact.

“Good girl…” He awarded verbally, growing another tendril into sight as he moved it down to run your clit, getting a high pitched moan out of you.

“F-faster, Al…I feel it…” You tightened your legs on him, tensing up.

As your tits bounced up and down from the thrusts, you couldn’t help but have to cover them because of the breeze from the bayou-

“No,” he immediately said, lifting one of his hands from clawing at the sheets and placing your hands around his neck, immediately diving down to suckle on your breasts.

“O-oh, yes!” You cried out, feeling his tongue circle around your nubs as he switched between the two.

You groaned as you felt the familiar coil in your abdomen grow after a couple thrusts, “I’m g-gonna cum soon, Al…” You scratched at his back in pleasure, trying to chase at your orgasm.

That’s when he didn’t switch to another breast, but kept sucking on one of them, rubbing and squeezing the other with his hand, making you wonder what he was doing,

Until you felt some milk come out of them.

“Ah-Ah! Alastor! I’m close!” You said, your legs shaking violently as you felt the intensity of him suck and squeeze milk out of you.

He growled, fastening his pace even more, making them even more tougher and he enter and exited your womb space, “Come for me, darling, let me hear you sing for me…”

His dirty talk only got you closer and closer to your edge, until,

You threw your head back into the mattress, arching your back as you let out a blissful cry of pleasure, clenching around him as you rode your orgasm, struggling to even keep your eyes open.

Alastor let out a beastly growl as his form quickly morphed to a more intimidating one as he shoved he cock into you one last time, releasing his seed inside you.

His cum leaked out of you as he slowly pulled out, quickly stuffing his fingers inside your hole so the cum would stay.

“What a good little for you are to me…” He said, admiring the mess you both made on the bed, and then just you laying there.

Noticing how you were still breathing heavily, not moving your body unless a little twitch, he leaned down to whisper softly, “How about some cold water, dear? Think this’ll help you relax?” He asked dotingly, making you nod instantly.

That made him chuckle, moving over to the edge of the bed as he stood up, going over to the nightstand and placing a water pitcher there from the shadows, and walking over the the bathroom for a towel.

***

As he came back from the bathroom with a hot rag in the hand, he noticed how you were half asleep, yet still conscious, which made him laugh softly as he place the rag down by the pitcher, crawling over to you.

“Mon Cher, you’re all fucked out by yours truly.” He smiled softly, fetching the rag from the nightstand with his shadow as he began to wipe your cunt clean.

When he was done, he then took notice of your breasts, how there were some stray milk on them.

Shrugging and tossing the rag aside, he leaned down and softly licked the milk off your chest.

You giggled softly in your daze, “Alastor…” You rubbed your eyes.

When he finished up, he filled a glass of water from the pitcher and turned back to you, sitting you up gently as he tipped the glass of water to your lips.

“Think you’ll be walking tomorrow?” He wondered aloud.

“Hm…will you stay with me here if i don’t?” You asked as you finished your glass.

He placed the cup down, “Of course dear,” he promised, crawling under the sheets beside you, sending his shadow to turn off the lights in the room as he cuddled close to your fragile state,

“Sleep well, dear.”

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END NOTES: I LEARNED HOW TO SPELL AWKWARD FROM WRITING THIS LETS FUCKING GO!!!! All jokes aside, (not really, now clap), i hope this fic actually turns out well because i spent 5 minutes trying to copy and paste this into a word counter and then 2 more minutes pasting this fic here because my phone sucks and it’s broken and i hate it and abuse it but like…i just hope it does well. I (hypothetically) put blood sweat and TEARS into this fic and idgaf what you think because it’s amazing for a first fic on this blog. Notes and comments, maybe even reblogs *wink wink* and also REQUESTS!!! Requests are my best friend, and always open unless I’m on vacation (which i’ll always announce). I love you guys ^^ !!

-Lynn Lazybones

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[munsonsreputation]

hii! omg so i rlly love your writing its incredible. i have two requests but you can choose whichever one! the first one is an imagine w steve and the reader based off of call it what you want by taylor. orr a hurt/comfort imagine where the reader is basically comforting steve maybe aft he’s had a fight w his parents or something? again i rlly love your writing literally look forward for new writeups all the time!

at least we did one thing right

a/n: this one has been sitting in my inbox since forever and i managed to stir up this cute little thing. ciwyw is one of my favorite tracks of reputation and i can't wait to get the re-recording of this (hopefully soon!!!)

The party was in full swing, and by party you meant all of your close friends who are gathered in Steve’s living room and kitchen entertaining themselves while you and Steve hid away in his backyard like a routine.

His gaze flickered through the sliding doors, mock concern etched on his features as he mutters under his breath, “I swear to god, they better not pick the pineapple off the other slices.”

You turned your head to see what he was going on about, and sure enough the teenage boys were ravaging the kitchen like they hadn’t eaten in days. At this rate, they were like bottomless pits, and you weren’t quite sure how they were able to put away a portion of food without blinking.

Still, you snorted, swatting a hand over his thigh and garnering his attention back to you.

“They’re growing boys and their appetites are different from when they were twelve. We can order another if they’re still hungry.” You shrugged.

He shook his head, shifting to pull your legs over and across his lap.

“I ordered pineapple for you, and you should at least get to have one slice of it.” Steve insisted, though your orbs were too clouded with heart eyes to see the irritation he wore for the innocently selfish boys.

You pursed your lips into a tight smile, hooking your arm over his bicep, tugging yourself closer to him, “You’re so cute for someone who hogs all the blankets at night.”

He looked down at you, shaking his head with a mushy smile coming over him, “Hey you’re the one who likes the house freezing!”

Steve rumbles a string of laughter into the air, using his free arm that’s not being clung onto, to drape over your frame, practically wrenching your whole body onto his as you begin joining in the amusement. You give up on trying to get the upper-hand, letting yourself sit comfortably in his lap, your joined hands resting on either side of your bodies and you lean down to lay your head on his chest.

You snuggled deeper into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne. It’s a simple pleasure of yours to be wrapped up in his arms, high above the whole scene, in your own little world like nothing else mattered.

“You’re my portable space heater, got all the warmth I need,” you declared, pressing kind kisses over his chest feeling his lips brush over your hairline.

Steve thought he must have done something right in this lifetime in order to give himself to you in a way he hadn’t given anyone else before. He doesn’t care that it’s simply you two sneaking away just to act like corny teenagers again. All of that fades into nothing when you look at him the way you do.

But before you could savor the moment, a familiar voice interrupted from above, followed by the squeak of rusty wheels gliding across the frame.

“Are you guys having fun out here without us!” Robin shouted, ringing out closer as she approached you both, but of course not without the presence of Eddie by her side.

You sat up, laughing, while Steve groaned and craned his neck to greet them. “You guys have to stop sneaking off to do whatever this is,” Eddie teased, gesturing between you both with a lighthearted smirk.

Steve grunted, “You’re just mad you don’t have a girlfriend to love on,” he shot back, pulling you down by the wrists to meet his lips in a messy kiss that left you giggling.

Eddie feigned revulsion and quickly retreated back inside, while Robin settled beside your bodies, her eyes twinkling with affection. “I still think you guys are adorable, even though this sneaking off thing is getting old.”

Robin had always been rooting for the two of you — there was just something about you both that made perfect sense, and when you finally bit the bullet, it was safe to say she was celebratory about the whole thing.

“We just don’t want to bore you guys with our public displays of affection,” you teased, sharing a knowing smile with Robin who threw her head back and laughed at all the times your friends would scold you both to cut out the lovey dovey acts.

Steve interjected, “Last time we cuddled on the couch you kicked us out of movie night…in my house!”

Robin rolled her eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him. “That’s because we could all smell the sexual tension between you guys. Seriously, just get it out of your systems before we get here.”

You slapped your hands over your flushed face, groaning behind them, “Noted. We’ll remember that for next time.” You promised, shaking your head.

Steve couldn’t contain his laughter, his eyes crinkling as he turned to his best friend with a pleading look. “Now, can you please leave and let me make out with my girlfriend in peace?”

She rose up out of the lounger with a grin, “If there’s one thing you guys did right, it’s each other… and I don’t mean sex!” With that she disappeared back inside, leaving you both to yourselves.

Steve gently pulled your hands away from your face, his soft smiling easing away any idling embarrassment that you knew was all in good fun. He brought your hands closer to his lips, spreading kisses across your knuckles that made your stomach flip with warmth.

“Well, at least did one thing right,” He murmured, raising his brows up at you as you blushed and nodded.

“We sure did.” You whispered, before cupping his cheeks and bringing yourself down to him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, closing the distance between your lips, fitting themselves together like a daydream. The jokers and the drama queens could take all the swings and call it whatever they wanted to — as long as you and Steve knew it was love.

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[mybrainsautocorrect]

So, I feel like one character that never gets mentioned when talking about Hannibal is Bedelia du Maurier.

She must be important- I mean she got both of the end season credit scenes. In season 3, she was shown sitting at a table with one leg cut off and cooked on the table. In season two, Bedelia was shown on the plane with Hannibal during his escape from the US. Season 1 did not have an end credit scene, but Bedelia was still present in one of the very last scenes of the season finale.

Not to mention, she is the one who said what is perhaps my favorite line from the entire show. “Can’t live with him, can’t live without him.”

But despite how present and obviously important she is, Bedelia is the one character who I have the most questions about even after the final episode. She was present enough for many of her character traits to be obvious, but her underlying emotions were never overtly revealed.

For example, she was free from Hannibal— she he escaped and he did not know where she was. So why did she return to her home, and then why did she stay when she realized Hannibal was the person in her shower?

Additionally, why cut her leg off after Hannibal had died? There’s a possibility she did not know yet that Hannibal and Will were dead, or she did not know definitively. I personally think, though, that she did. I believe that last scene was her mourning Hannibal. She offered him what she always knew he wanted from her- to eat her at a dinner, a table, set up just how he liked it from before. But why would she honor him in that way?

Maybe she is more like Will than even she is willing to admit. Maybe she liked the chase, liked feeling constantly in danger. That would also explain why she returned and left with Hannibal in the first place. Maybe it wasn’t honor. Maybe Bedelia eating her own leg was some kind of gloating, showing Hannibal that she could do what he couldn’t.

I really don’t know a lot about her, and that is one think I regret never being able to learn. She may not be my favorite character, but my curiosity over her keeps me thinking about her

[what-do-1000-swords-look-like]

I'm finishing up my rewatch of season 3 of The Boys before I begin my SPN rewatch (got 2 more episodes left) and watching Jensen's performance as Soldier Boy just absolutely floors me.

It floors me because I've seen antis time and time again claim that Soldier Boy/Ben was essentially Dean in a superhero suit, that Jensen has one note acting, that he watered down the character by refusing to do scenes that made him uncomfortable (especially by one anti blog in particular who claims to be an acting expert, you know the one), and that his acting is very bland.

But in studying his performance because I'm studying the character (for writing purposes), these people couldn't be more wrong. I will admit that the only time I got a semi-Dean vibe from him was during the scene where Soldier Boy tells Butcher about his father. Which doesn't surprise me because Jensen himself said he leaned into the Dean/John dynamic for that scene.

But otherwise, I don't see anywhere where their claims hold any water. I mean, have you actually watched his scenes?

This scene is so important. Annie is getting ready to face off with this guy and even though she knows he's dangerous (after seeing he results of one of his explosions up close and personal), but she has no idea how dangerous, not really. This isn't Dean. This isn't Beau. This is the dangerous side of Solider Boy and had Hughie not intervened, there's a good possibility shit would have gone even more sideways. Especially, with Ben coming off of the confrontation with Countess, her hitting him where it hurts the most (meaning she tapped into one of his biggest insecurities. That explosion wasn't an accident (like NYC or even at Herogasm with the Twins). Ben didn't black out here. That's shown to us by there being no Russian trigger, despite him learning that Countess and his team handed him over back in 1984 and didn't even get paid for it.

I mean, look at this expression right here. His body is moving but his eyes don't. He's getting into position, ready to take out the next threat. Only when Hughie steps in and Annie's eyes dim does he step away, assessing her as not a threat. This is the weapon that is deadly enough to take on Homelander and no matter where you stand on Jensen as an actor, he pulls it off here.

The physicality he utilized in this role speaks volumes. And it's not about Soldier Boy being a Supe or being in a suit or having to look pissed off all the time (minus the few times he's amused). It has to do with how he embodies that character, carries him, and if he pulls it off. Spoiler alert: he did.

This scene exemplifies exactly what I'm talking about. I have watched it countless times and this part of it always sticks out to me every single time. Look at that expression, look at the eyes. Ben is not going all out to sell this belief let's call it to Hughie. He's giving him a look that says "this is the truth and you better believe it or else". He's not smiling for news cameras or doing propaganda or greeting fans of his movies decades prior. He's not selling the Soldier Boy is America's Greatest Hero image here. He's subtly threatening Hughie, and this is where he begins to have an issue with him. Because Ben wants to see himself as the good guy, something Kripke, Jensen, and the cast have talked about in promoting the season. In his own mind, he is the good guy; he's a legend in his own mind so to speak. He's bought the hype about himself. And anyone who doesn't see him that way is an enemy aka a threat.

It doesn't mean he doesn't know he's doing things that aren't right (as we saw in those outtakes of the 'Don't-do-drugs' commercial). He's very self-aware but he justifies it to himself because he's Soldier Boy and almost like Homelander always says, he can do what he wants. Not necessarily that he has a god-mentality that rivals Homelander's but everything is justifiable in his mind because he's a Supe, or more precisely the Supe, and he's protecting his country. And it also keeps that insecurity of being a disappointment at bay that he has from his childhood. It's all layered into his make-up so to speak. So not only is Hughie a threat (not physically obviously but to Ben's image of himself) but is also bordering dangerously close to reminding him of the very thing he hates: a mirror that reminds him that maybe his dad was right about him (not saying he was, I'm saying this is potentially what is running through his mind). So not only does it share a brilliant parallel between Hughie and Annie when it comes to Soldier Boy that eventually plays out beautifully in the Tower Scene in the finale, but it also is sewn into the issue between Hughie and Annie this season in their own relationship.

But the way Jensen plays that scene is phenomenal because if you watch it, you realize if Hughie says one wrong thing, he may be in trouble.

Which is then continued in this scene:

In this scene, Hughie is mentioning there's a lot of people inside Herogasm and here we get Ben's reaction to Hughie saying that. Then he tells Hughie as long as the people stay out of his way they should be fine. But again, watch how he says it, his expression, focus on his tone, his body movement. He clearly is not happy that Hughie says this (it literally is a continuation from the hotel room scene) and again has that subtle threat vibe, even with Butcher standing there (because let's face it, to him, even with temp V, Butcher is no threat). And of course, we all know the slap scene and the punch scene that happens later. Not only does Hughie get switched out for Ryan later on who Butcher ends up protecting from Soldier Boy, but it all plays out beautifully as all of the connections, overt and subtle, unfold throughout the season.

But back to Jensen's performance. There is so much to appreciate in how he fully embodied this character. And that's not saying it through an AA haze of "omg he's so hawt!" or "omg did you see his ass?" That's appreciating the amount of work that he put into this role when the cameras started rolling. He literally became Soldier Boy and he embodied him even outside of the suit.

As an actor, Jensen is very nuanced. He consistently adds in these little things that help make the character even more multi-dimensional than what is written on the page or what is called for int he scene and how it's blocked. This is why there is a certain small group of people on here that repeatedly talk about Jacting Joices, it's not just related to Supernatural or Destiel or Dean. It's about Jensen as an actor, as a performer, and how much he actually pours into these characters he plays. Whether it be the way he moves (or walks), or the expressions he uses, his eyes (yep, he does that too, see above), with his hands, even down to the way he delivers a line. All actors do this in their own way obviously, lean into physicality as well as their performance, but he definitely has his own unique style that I just don't see anyone else replicating. I think there's a reason so many people say no one else could have played Dean the way he could have for example. And if you watch his characters, really watch them, you'll see what he does each and every time. Even smaller characters like Jason from Smallville or Tom from My Bloody Valentine or Alec from Dark Angel. It's all right there on the screen.

So I guess my whole long point is I don't get why antis rip him apart when it comes to this role of Soldier Boy (other than being antis I guess) or say he can't act or that has no idea how to properly analyze his character because he actually did put a ton of work into this specific character (as well as all the others he's done) and you can clearly see it as you watch his scenes in the show. While I wish we could have seen Homelander and Soldier Boy go at it a bit more, and see Soldier Boy truly unleash that Alpha-ness of being the original Supe like had been talked about in promotions and interviews, it doesn't diminish that this character was fascinating and he brought it to life from the script in a way that complemented his own unique style as a performer.

tl;dr Jensen crushed Soldier Boy and Ben (yes, two different characters to embody actually) and I cannot wait to see more of him in any future Boys-related visual story telling, on the show or others.

[deathsmallcaps]

Maybe it’s just because there’s only so many ways to draw a type of thing, but I have seven thoughts about Elemental (2023) after watching it again lol.

1. It showcases a lovely balanced relationship between artists. Ember, of course, has an eye and hand for glass making, and Wade sees the potential and ability she has; how her light shines through to the world and him, figuratively and literally. Meanwhile, Wade’s way with words is more subtle, but really reaches in deep and converts visual art into emotion; it takes a good writer and speaker to convey feeling into accessible ideas. And Ember recognizes his talent, and lets it touch her.

They bring light into each other’s lives; without each other, they were fine and functioning and almost happy, but when they have the other, that’s just the icing on the cake.

2. The art style looks worse without motion. Both characters are constantly unconsciously moving in every shot; Ember flickers and Wade drips. Plus, the way light works with them and around them doesn’t translate well to a still image (especially with Ember; it’s hard to draw without outline, and I think it helped with visibility and stability on the screen, but in stills it looks awkward.).

A lot of fan art I’m seeing seems to struggle with this outline/still problem, again more with Ember than with Wade, but a lot of artists have added their own spin and style and made it work. I think the problem is directly related to how it’s difficult to capture water, fire and light ‘sources’ like the moon via photo. So if the art style for that particular aspect is turning you off, and you’ve only seen stills, I’d suggest you watch a bit of video or a good gif set (there’s already quite a few) before deciding whether it’s worth watching or not.

3. Speaking of art, this movie really reminded me of Studio Ghibli movies. Maybe there’s only so many ways to draw something, or maybe it’s just the Howl’s Moving Castle (both book and film) and Ponyo fan in me, but Ember for sure took a lot of visual inspiration from Calcifer, it’s the red outline and such, and Wade the waves from Ponyo. It was fun to see! Also tbh I saw some Dr. Seuss CGI movie shapes in their bodies.

4. Ember and Burnie breaking the cycle. When Burnie left Fire Land for Element City, he was following his dreams (and he even started enough of a trend that his whole neighborhood because a new fire town). But his Sad disagreed with him. As a last attempt at connection, Burnie bowed a Bok Sa (sp?), a very deep bow, to his father, to show respect and love. His Dad did not return the gesture, spurning his son and his dreams, and turned away.

When Ember leaves for the glassblowing internship, she performed a Bok Sa for her Dad (and it’s so intimate guys. Like it’s almost embarrassing to look at because it’s raw and passionate and I really admire the creators for Not restraining it). Burnie sees a chance to show his daughter that he loves her, and that he respects her dreams (despite his and Cinder’s sacrifice of emigration from Fire Land, which is a big theme in this movie), and so he holds back the hurt his father laid upon him, so many years ago. He does a Bok S- back. It’s wonderful. I’m not sure he would’ve done that at the beginning of the movie, but his love for his daughter won out in the end.

(I just wish that the mother-daughter relationship received a little more canon consideration as well, but I appreciate the movie for the relations it did focus on.)

5. The city fucks up in a big way, and of course it’s up to the people affected to solve it, at least in the short term. Despite water being a huge hazard and supposedly already gotten rid of in fire town, there’s still a water train that passes regularly and always displaces enough water to kill a fire person. And in terms of the dam, there’s so much bureaucracy that Gale (the city safety officer?) found it easier to (nearly) shut down a business than to get a health hazard (the broken dam) fixed.

And when Ember covers up the hole, she leaves it! Her tempered glass doesn’t get support, and it eventually cracks and floods Fire Town, nearly killing lots of residents and leading to Wade’s evaporation.

6. Feel free to add on but I’m surprised that no globe has really talked about the disability angle yet. I i afraid I don’t have enough experience being physically disabled to talk about it in a nuanced enough way but oh well. It’s there. The way the fire people needed different transportation (also there was a fire person in a wheelchair. How things that are safe for others could kill them (Cinder nearly died while carrying ember because a guy dripped on her, which is a thing that others would find mildly inconvenient). How Wade’s nephew casually mentioned that Ember could die if she stepped off her mobility aid (the floatie) and proceeded to mess with it. And of course the shame, embarrassment and fear of being excluded & discriminated against.

7. More Men Should Cry!!! It literally saved Wade’s life lmao.

[plantaagomaajor]

so sad (but also happy and fulfilled) after watching "marry my dead body..." I really need to see Nick smile tomorrow in order to calm my nerves

[semercury]

Once again screaming crying throwing up about the narrative of this game.

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ��� we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #253

[funnywormz]

i've been thinking a lot abt aging in dungeon meshi and how it's so different for the different races, but especially how it's so different for marcille. even among half-elf half-tallmen, they all tend to age at different rates both mentally and physically. marcille herself is implied to go through random growth spurts and spend some parts of her life aging like a tallman and other parts of it not aging at all. growing up she couldn't fit in with tallmen her own age bc they were already more mature than her, but she couldn't fit in with elves her own age either bc they were all much LESS mature.

i get the impression she's meant to be ~20 in appearance now, despite being abt 50 in her actual age. 50 is simultaneously really young for an elf, when elves live for like 500-1000 years, and pretty old for a tallman, and positively geriatric for a half-foot. and you can see all of these elements in her. in some scenes the way she throws tantrums and cries and is petty or easily excitable, makes her come across as childish. but then in other scenes she's far more mature and shows that she has a breadth of knowledge and power that comes from a very dark and ancient place. and sometimes you can FEEL that she's looking at the others thinking abt how she's still going to be in the prime of life long after they're dead.

the manga delves into it more, with her deepest desire being to equalise the lifespans between races, and the isolation she feels due to being half tallman half elf. and the fact that she could never have her own biological children and yet her lifespan is far longer than even most elves. that she brings falin back to life even while knowing that she could be imprisoned for it if the other elves find out, and wants her friends to live as long as she will, even though she knows they won't. full of so much life and yet all she wants to do is give it away so that others can live..........

there's also just the fact that her character feels very relatable from the perspective of someone in their 20s. she's simultaneously very grown up and wise but also naive and arrogant at times. alternating between feeling like she knows everything and nothing. independent and determined and yet struggles without the help of others. mature and dignified while also being childish and very silly. sometimes a strict rule follower and other times a literal criminal.

it's like she's caught between two worlds in so many ways. she's got so many conflicting traits just like real people have conflicting traits, and her own personality is constantly pulling her in different directions. idk where i'm going with this but man she contains multitudes. i love marcille so fucking much

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Coveted.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader (+Yandere!Gojo) [JJK].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Set Two or Three Years Post KFC Break-Up, Intimidation, Prolonged Stalking, Future Dub/Con, Mentions of Non/Con, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.

[Part Two]

“You’re Satoru’s date, right?”

The voice was masculine, deep and as rough as it could be without crossing the line into gravelly. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders and burrowing your nails into your palm as your eyes darted across the table – where a man with dark hair and an off-putting smile was currently sliding into the unoccupied side of your booth. He reached out, clearly planning to shake your hand, but when you failed to move, he only let out an airy chuckle, propping his chin on his fist as he went on. “I’m a friend of his – Geto Suguru. You can call me Suguru-chan, though. Has he already told you about me?”

He was dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed – his attire limited to a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants in the same color, his hair pulled into a loose bun. His tone was friendly, light. You returned it with a dead-pan stare, hoping it conveyed the weight of your exhaustion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that what he told you to say?” Another laugh, somehow more blood-chilling than the first. Your attention shifted outward, to the late-night diner where Gojo had asked you to meet him. There were only a few other customers, the skeleton of a proper staff, but single other person would’ve been one too many. You didn’t need to make a scene, not again, not after last time. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a stingy bastard.”

With a pressed frown, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Geto’s grin only broadened. He snapped his fingers and as if it’d only been waiting for a queue, a shape manifested at the end of your bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at it, but you saw enough out of the corner of your eye; a bulbous torso, shrunken arms, too many eyes to resemble any living thing. Instantly, what little courage you still had was replaced with a knot of dread, a bolt of pure anxiety. You half-expected it to lunge, to bite, to attack, but it didn’t move, only standing guard at the foot of your table.

It didn’t move, but it didn’t have to. In a moment, you’d fallen back into your seat and shoved yourself against the wall, fighting not to shake. It was a sight Geto seemed to take a particular joy in, letting his head lull to the side as he watched you curl into yourself. “You can see them. I was starting to think I had the wrong person.” A pause, a glance towards his summoned monster before his narrowed gaze skirted back to you. “Don’t be shy, now. How much did he tell you?”

It took you a moment to find your tongue, another to swallow back the tremor in your voice. "He said he could protect me.” It was harder to admit than you’d expected – not so much that you needed protection, but that there was something you needed protection from. You’d spent so long writing off your monsters as hallucinations that it was still a struggle to act like they were anything more. But, for as unwilling as you were to confront your little monsters, the resounding ache in your right leg where that thing had dug its claws into you was impossible to ignore. “He… he didn’t mention anyone else, but we’ve only spoken once. He was supposed to explain—” You gestured to the monster. “—all of this today.”

A slight hum, a look of genuine surprise. “So, he’s got some self-restraint after all! I thought he would’ve cracked months ago, considering how long he’s been following you around like a lost puppy.” He must’ve seen your expression fall, your posture slacken, because he didn’t wait for a response before going on. “I mean, you must’ve known that, at least. Did you think he’d play knight-in-shining-armor for just anyone?”

“I…” You trailed off quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t care. As long as he can protect me, I don’t care why he’s doing it.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You wouldn’t want to make Satoru feel so replaceable, now, would you?”  

At that, you met his stare. “What do you want?”

His eyes skirted towards the monster, who took an obedient step back. For a second, you considered running, trying to slip away before the man in front of you or your newly-realized stalker could make you regret ever showing up at all, but Geto was quick to cut off your escape route, filling the empty space beside you before you could so much as pick which door you would barrel through on the way out. “Well, now that we’re on the same page,” Unlike his monster, he didn’t give you the option of leaving him in your peripheral; settling close enough for his leg to press into yours. At this proximity, you could pick up the smoke on his breath, the scent of stale gore clinging to him like a second skin. As if he’d just stepped out of a blood bath. “I’d like to make you an alternative offer.”

“You’d protect me?”

“Oh, I’d do more than just that.” His hand fell to your thigh. “I’d have everything you’ve ever been afraid of bowing to you by the end of the night.”

You swallowed dryly. “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you get out of helping me?”

His answer was nonverbal, but clear enough. With that same idle grin, he nodded toward the streaked window, to the building across the street. Your heart fell into your stomach. It was one of those sleazy, by-the-hour hotels – the sign missing more than a few letters and the parking lot as empty as the diner. It was the kind of place that you only went to for one thing, and you had a feeling Geto hadn’t found some miraculous second reason to want to be alone with you in one of those bug-infested rooms.

You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe to buy yourself time. Maybe because you couldn’t stand the idea of being left in silence as what was left of your rational mind screamed at you to get out of there. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’ll be my treat.”

“What happens I refuse?”

“I kill everyone here,” His nails bit into exposed skin. “And then fuck you on this table while their bodies attract flies.”

You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so tired.

You might’ve done anything, if you could bring yourself to care about anything but keeping those awful creatures at a distance.

Stiffly, with your eyes shut and your teeth grit, you forced yourself to nod. Geto rewarded you with an impossibly wide grin, a breath of a laugh. “Smart little thing.”

This time, he didn’t pretend it was an option; reaching out, taking your trembling hand in his own, and squeezing so softly, you could almost convince yourself he was being gentle.

“It’s only a shame Satoru isn’t here to join us.”

[norrizzandpia]

So American (OB38)

Summary: To the song So American by Olivia Rodrigo. In which a Brit and an American fall so deeply in love with each other.

Warnings: suggestive scenes, language, so much fluff omg, reader is from America (specifically California), reader wants to be a writer and loves Jane Austen, reader loves London, idk if you can tell yet but this is HEAVILY indulgent, reader goes to University of San Francisco (that part is not self indulgent lol)

Note: I couldn’t help myself ive had this idea for too long, my debut Ollie Bearman fic! I hope you like it because i do 🤭

Eighteen and baby-faced, Y/n thought her trip to London with her best friends would be fun and outrageous. She expected when they touched down in Heathrow that the trip would bring countless amounts of unique memories. It was part of their celebration of completion in their first year in college, a week-long trip to one of their favorite places to welcome the desperately needed summer.

None of them expected for Y/n to slam into a tall body when they were running to a musical before the doors closed and none of them expected that tall body to be that of another eighteen year old who found the short, American girl too cute to tear his eyes away from.

Ollie hadn’t been expecting much when he decided to take a day trip into London, wanting to spend the day wandering around one of his favorite cities. Though, when his eyes graced him the vision of y/h/c hair and a flushed girl frazzled in front of him, he knew it would be one to remember.

She was short, almost too short as his neck craned down to meet her eyes and the two murmured out apologies as he knelt down to pick up her bag that had dropped when they both rounded the same corner too fast.

Her ID slipped out, California’s name in bold letters right at the top and made Ollie laugh.

”American?” He smiled as Y/n’s friends glanced at each other from the side.

Y/n grinned, “Yep, American.”

Part of him knew getting into business with someone who lived on another continent couldn’t be smart, but he couldn’t bear to think of not seeing her again. Her beauty struck him and there were no thoughts in his mind when he asked for her number when she mumbled something about having to leave.

Y/n’s wide eyes turned around to meet his once more, “My number?”

Ollie nodded, his hand in his pocket and clutching his phone, “Your number.”

Her friends behind her giggled before shoving her toward the British boy who they had no idea was not your average or normal eighteen year old. Y/n took his phone lightly and pressed the correct digits. When she returned it, her name staring back at him, he blushed, “Y/n. That’s cute.”

Her cheeks warmed just like his as her friends began tugging on her hand and yelling about making the showtime, “What’s your name?!” She yelled as they dragged her away.

He waved with a beam, “Ollie!”

Ollie. That’s cute.

—

That summer, Y/n never went back to California. The moment she began talking with Ollie and he began taking her out on dates before she was supposed to leave, she knew there would be no way she could leave him. She canceled her flight back after Ollie had begged her to stay, and told her friends they needed to go back without her, that there was something more she needed to explore in London.

The girls had anticipated it, honestly. When they had seen the dazed grin on their friend’s face every time she came back from seeing the boy, they knew there was not enough willpower to hold her back from changing plans.

She would come back for the next school year, but it was clear if things went well, which they seemed they would be, she would stay for the summer.

And that she did.

Ollie forced her around all of England, showing her his favorite nooks and crannies of the country he grew up in. They would spend hours in his car as he drove her around, to the end of the country and back, just so she could experience his favorite view too. Their moments spent together forced the two to get to know each other wholly. Y/n found out about his racing career, gaped at him when he mentioned his Formula 1 race, and Ollie found out about her mundane life as a student at University of San Francisco. Honestly, he loved how regular she was. He craved her stories of college parties and nights spent up until three AM trying to turn in a paper. He loved her life stories. She loved his. They made for a good duo.

When the end of the two months drew near, tears were shed and words of distance were stressed. As they stood at the entrance to Heathrow, Ollie held Y/n in his arms and promised to find another time for her to come visit him, or one where he would come visit her. He was insistent and while they wouldn’t say it then, they were already in love.

That proved true a few months later, after calls and texts back and forth, when Y/n turned up at Heathrow once more. She was on Christmas break, one that granted her time to see her boyfriend, and while her family had been supportive of her skipping the holiday to go see someone that clearly made her so happy, she still felt a bit guilty to cancel. Though, that feeling diminished when she descended down the escalator and found Ollie holding a large sign with her name on it in pinks and greens, a large smile on his face as she yelped out and sprinted toward him.

“OLLIE!” Her bags dropped and she flew into his arms as he yelled her name back, the sign he had worked so hard on thrown to the floor the moment she got close.

He kissed her cheek and the two were looked upon adoringly by bystanders in the airport as he gently set her down on the ground, kissing her softly and whispering how much he had missed her.

When he led her out of the doors, all her belongings in his hands, they smiled brightly at each other as if to confirm how much they would make this month worth their while.

—

Drivin’ on the right-side road, he says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes. And he's got hands that make hell seem cold. Feet on the dashboard, he’s like a poem I wish I wrote. I wish I wrote.

Ollie clutched Y/n’s thigh as he drove to their favorite spot, one he had shown her during the summer. Her head lulled to the side, staring at him lightly and lovingly right when he glanced at her, his eyes roaming over her body.

Her eyebrows pulled together, “What?”

He smirked, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.” His fingers traced up her stomach to tug on his sweatshirt that adorned her upper body. The way it draped largely over her made his heart warm and how she had the hood pulled up over her messy hair made him want to pull the car over and kiss her silly.

She looked cozy. Cozy enough that his hand traveled under the material to rest around her waist. His warm hands made her feel more sleepy, the clock in the car reading a time too early, as she cuddled further into herself. Ollie noticed the yawn that drew from her and smiled to himself, his eyes averting back to the lonely road they were on.

“Can I put my feet on the dash?” She murmured, eyes closing and head tucking further into his sweatshirt.

Ollie patted her leg, “Sure, baby. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

He turned the music down enough for her to find sleep again and when her phone pinged beside him, he glanced down randomly. His head had snapped back up before he could genuinely realize the notification he had seen. When it dawned on him what he might’ve seen, his eyes drifted down once more and tapped the screen to see it again.

A notification from In-n-Out stayed put on her screen and he stifled a laugh before whispering, “Oh, she’s so American.”

—

And he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I’ll go anywhere he goes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

Ollie howled from laughter as Y/n giggled, her joke going over better than she expected. She knew it was funny, but she didn’t think the red in his face from not breathing was necessary. Still, she admired the way he admired her and went along with his hysterics. When his breathing regulated and his hunched over position came back to a seated one on the cold bench in Hyde Park, her stares were finally noticed by him.

”What?” He asked, arm wrapping around her shoulder as he shoved a piece of croissant in his mouth. He offered the last piece to Y/n and she took it, murmuring before putting it in her mouth, “Nothing. You just think I’m funny.”

Ollie’s eyebrows rose and he blew out a breath, “I think you’re hilarious.”

”I wonder how much you’ll laugh with me when you’re wasted.” Y/n’s head cocked to the side as she lost herself to thoughts.

Ollie giggled, “Probably an annoying amount when I’m pissed.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped in horror, “Not when you’re pissed! Don’t pee yourself!”

The couple turned to each other in confusion, Ollie fully taken aback, “Who said anything about peeing themselves?!”

Y/n jabbed a finger into his chest, “You did!”

Ollie pushed her softly, his hand on her waist drawing her back to him, “No, I didn’t!”

Her head fell into his chest in a fit of laughter, “Yes! I was talking about getting drunk and then you just brought up pissing yourself!”

In a moment of realization, Ollie found himself howling with laughter again. His hands clutched her frozen ones in the midst of winter before he got out, “It means the same thing! Wasted and pissed! Drunk!”

Her mouth fell open as she began to understand. Then, she pulled a face, “Why would you British people say pissed? That’s weird.”

Ollie gasped with a smile, “Hey! Don’t be rude.”

She crossed her arms, “You’re the one that insinuated peeing yourself.”

Ollie groaned and scrambled from the seat, running away from her with loud laughter, “Get away from me, American!”

She got up, rushing after him, with strangers giving them questionable looks as they began running through the bushes and trees of Hyde Park,

As she followed after him, his smile getting caught in her mind, she realized she had never felt this way about anyone. Sure, she had had guys in the past, but none of them compared to Ollie. The time they spent together, whether over the phone or in the actual presence of the other, always left her with a fuzzy feeling. A fuzzy feeling she always wanted to feel. The idea of forever was premature, but she was beginning to believe she was in love with the boy running away from her and jokingly berating her for being American. If she was in love, why not entertain the idea of marriage in her daydreams?

When she reached him, falling into his arms roughly with continued giggles, he leaned in and kissed her softly. The look in Ollie’s eyes when he pulled back made her think he might just be in love with her too.

Maybe they could entertain the idea of marriage in their daydreams together.

—

God, I’m so boring and I’m so rude. Can’t have a conversation if it’s not all about you; the way you dress and the books you read. I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he’s with me, when he’s with me.

Y/n brushed her teeth in the white of Ollie’s bathroom, his parents having generously let her stay in their home during her stay for Christmas. Her best friend, Charlotte, stared back at her from the phone. Their FaceTime had just started and Y/n hadn’t waited to say any greetings before jumping into rambling about Ollie.

”Charlotte, I’m so obsessed with him. I think it’s unhealthy.” She laughed, Charlotte laughing with her. Ollie eavesdropped on the other side of the door. “He’s so sweet and attentive. He remembers all the little things and even suggests things he thinks I’ll love. Which I always do. The other day, we were walking around Sussex and he saw this small book in a window and forced me into the shop. Turns out he had found a Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice First Edition. He told me he remembered how much I loved that movie and that storyline. He even referenced exact sentences that I had said in the midst of my rant about how much I love Jane Austen books. I looked at the price tag, holy shit, Char, it was so expensive. I made him leave the store immediately because the look on his face told me he needed no convincing in buying it for me. I thought I was in the clear, but apparently he’s friends with the owner of that store, so he went in early the morning after, while I was still asleep, and bought it for me. He surprised me with it along with breakfast in bed. I almost cried, Char. He’s even started reading it with me because he knows how much I love it.”

Charlotte’s eyes twinkled at the look on her friend’s face. Charlotte loved Ollie for the way he treated Y/n. “That is fucking insane. This man is in love with you, Y/n.”

Ollie’s heart exploded in his chest from the other side of the door. He had been caught.

Y/n’s whispering was loud enough for him to hear, “I think I’m in love with him too. I can’t get over his smile and his favorite pair of shoes that he most definitely needs to repurchase. I love his humor and how much he wants to make me happy. I love how he makes me feel so wanted and important. I love everything about him from his ratty Ferrari sweatshirt to the moles on his cheek.”

Ollie almost started giggling, jumping up and down like a schoolgirl, at her confession. He was ecstatic. This feeling was better than when he scored points in his first Formula 1 race. Yet, he didn’t want to let her know he knew yet. He wanted to plan something, something big that would show how serious he was about her.

The two friends hung up the phone after Y/n realized what time it was and rattled off to Charlotte about Ollie waiting for her in bed. Charlotte tried not to point out the suggestive nature of her statement, but she failed. “Use protection!” She yelped just as the phone hung up. Y/n stood in the threshold to Ollie’s bedroom, him staring back at her as the two took in Charlotte’s warning.

Ollie flopped down into the sheets, Y/n falling right into his arms. He kissed her neck and whispered, “She doesn’t need to worry. We will.”

They wouldn’t end up falling asleep until far into the night.

—

I apologize if it’s a little too much, just a little too soon, but if the conversation ever were to come up I don’t want to assume this stuff. But, ain’t it love? I think I’m in love.

Ollie couldn’t wait to tell her. Let her know that he felt the same way. And Y/n couldn’t wait to tell him about her most favorite idea, one she had come up in the wake of telling her best friend how much she loved her boyfriend. Neither of them knew the other had something so serious to discuss as they drove down the quiet street. Ollie had shoved her in the car, telling her he was taking her to a picnic under the stars. He threw his coat over her, taking his other for himself, and drove the few minutes before arriving at the open grass area near his house. He helped her out of the car, leading her to the trunk to get the box of food his mother had helped him make in preparation for this, and found a perfect spot with the clearest view of the sky.

The cold, winter air made them curl into each other, creating the perfect amount of warmth to stay. Y/n didn’t know how to breach her topic as they popped spoonfuls of soup into their mouths. Ollie beat her to it.

“Can I tell you something?” He whispered, finding her soft eyes.

She nodded, “Of course, baby.”

He sighed, putting his soup off to the side and trying to rid his body of unnecessary nerves. He knew she felt the same. Still, his hands shook slightly, not from the cold, “You have completely wrecked my life. You were so unexpected and not something I was ever anticipating, but I am so happy you fell into my life, Y/n. I will always look back on that moment at that random corner in London with so much love because…” He took a deep breath, “I love you and that was the start of you and me.”

Y/n’s face beamed and she set her soup down, throwing herself into Ollie. He fell backward, the two falling into a heap of limbs on the blanket below them. She kissed his face all over with sloppy, lovesick kisses, “Ollie! I love you too!”

He would never get over how her voice sounded whenever she said his name. Sure, she had said it in annoyed manners before when he had ticked her off, but, even then, he loved the way her accent sounded around the syllables. Never did he think he would be putting American accents first before British ones on his list of most beloved accents. Though, he was beginning to find that her smiling face was getting him to do a lot of crazy things lately. Like, buying a book worth thousands of dollars and reading it along with her. Chilling.

She tapped the back of his palms before tugging lightly on his fingers, “I have something to run past you.”

He nodded, pulling her between his legs and stroking her back. She let her legs wrap around his waist as they continued to sit on the blanket, “You know how much I want to be a writer? The reason why I’m studying English and everything?”

Ollie continued nodding, tilting his head as to tell her he had no clue where this was going.

She cleared it up quickly, however, when she nervously rambled, “What if I transferred to a UK university?”

Ollie’s heart almost flew from his chest, “Like, move here?”

She gave a small smile, “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always wanted to move here and study here. I love it here. But, now,” She kissed his lips, “I have more of a reason to. Would that be something you’d be okay with?”

He scoffed, “Would that be something I’d be okay with?! Fuck, yeah! Oh my God, Y/n, please move here. Holy shit, move here.” He begged with the cheekiest grin on his face.

She laughed, “Okay, okay. I still have to be accepted, but I have good chances with my grades and everything.”

Ollie shook her body lightly, “No, you’ll be accepted. If I start a manifestation journal specifically for this, would you judge me?”

Y/n cackled, “No, go right ahead. Tap into that spiritual force, Bearman.”

He kissed her hard, happy it seemed to work out for them. God, he wanted it to work out for them so bad.

—

And he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I’ll go anywhere he goes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

ONE YEAR LATER

Y/n walked down the street to her dorm, a quizzical look etched into her face as she rounded the corner and ran into a hard body. Her eyes found his familiar ones from her position below him and his smile welcomed her home after a long day.

Ollie laughed, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

She tucked herself under his arm as they began walking, “You just need to stop walking so fast.”

He laughed at her comment before leaning down and kissing her cheek, “How was your day?”

She groaned, “So long. English in a UK university is much more in depth than I was expecting. It puts American colleges to shame. Plus, for lunch, the waiter screwed up my order.”

Ollie frowned, “Oh, no. What’d they mess up?”

Y/n gave him a sad smile, “I asked for chips with my sandwich and they gave me French fries.”

There was silence before Ollie shook his head with a soft smile, “Baby, French fries are chips here.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, “What do you mean?”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “No one says French fries here. If you want that, it’s chips.”

She stood in front of him in a stance that suggested this was an outrage. He chuckled at her, “Then, what do I say if I want chips?!”

He pushed her hair away from her face lovingly, “Crisps, love.”

She huffed and turned away, walking down the sidewalk before he quickly caught up with her. She grumbled from under his arm, “You need to teach me these crazy discrepancies.”

Ollie nodded and kissed her hair, “It’s not my fault you’re so American, but sure, I will. We can start now.”

Apparently, that sufficed for her as she let out an agreeing noise, “Yeah, so where are we going for this date.”

He put his finger to his lips and shushed her, “No, it’s a surprise.”

Her mind loved the fact that he was so obsessed with planning their outings by himself. She loved how much he initiated everything. She had never felt so taken care of. She always envied the girls loved wholly by their boyfriends and now she had that for herself. There would be no day that would come that she took advantage of the boy she fell in love with two summers ago.

She shrugged, “You better be happy I trust you so much, I’d follow you into a dark cave without any questions.”

Ollie squeezed her, “I mean, I follow you anywhere you go, so if you’re not going into that cave, I’m not either.”

He pulled her down the stairs to the Tube as he slipped her backpack off her body and onto his. She kissed him in appreciation, “So, it’s settled. No dark caves.”

Ollie shook his head and led her to the place they needed to be. He held her hand tightly as they weaved through the crowds, his head flicking behind him to check on her frequently before just pushing her in front of him, his hands around her waist as he steered her.

When they got to their platform, he added his last thought to their conversation, “We need to get married first before wandering into dangerous caves.”

He said it so nonchalantly, it made her fall in love with him more. And when he met her eyes after he was met with silence, he found overwhelming joy within them.

He kissed her in the midst of the chaos underground, his hands cradling her face and hers loosely around his waist. They were a sight for sore eyes, but no one saw them in the midst of their special moment.

It was just for themselves and would be referred back to in the coming years as the moment where their forever really started.

Bloody hell, they were so in love.

[dollfaceksj]

still don’t know my name | jjk (m) pt. 2

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: mentions of rough sex; slapping, spanking, hair pulling, gagging, name calling, humiliation, degradation, mean!jk, biker!jk😋, bratty!reader (like reallll bratty), nude exchanging, pornography, cybersex, reader is a bit dumb, actually very dumb, sexting, flirting, neighbor beef, tension, jk smokes, bit of angst (cus it wouldn’t be a fic of mine if it didn’t have angst ofc), mentions of raw sex (WRAP IT UP), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 11.8k

a/n: whew. HI. can’t believe pt1 went off like that😭 thank u sm for enjoying this fic !

thanks to tumblr’s new 1k max blocks limit, i had to add the rest in a reblog. you’ll find a link to it at the bottom!

i call this a mini three-shot cause i just left out all the unimportant stuff. it just constantly skips to scenes where yn & jk bump into each other i really dgaf if it’s coincidental the entire time. i had and still have no intention of adding more lore than necessary😭 its just a pwp so i rlly dc abt the lack of story telling and whatnot i just wanted to get this horny idea out 🙄

make sure to check out eli’s version too! <3

enjoy 😘😘 — the next part (pt. 3) will be the final part!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

#2 — “gameboy”

You still don’t know his name.

⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆ ⋆

And that is how you spend the rest of your weeks.

Flirting.

Sexting.

Sending pictures of your naked body to a random stranger on the internet.

A random stranger whose name you do not know.

A random stranger that doesn’t know your name, either.

A random stranger that you’re somehow slightly possessive over.

A random stranger that’s somehow slightly possessive over you.

Constantly posting subtweets about each other only further proves that. Indirectly wanting to tell other people to back off without actually doing so.

It’s crazy how you two clicked almost immediately. Maybe men aren’t a lost cause after all.

The subtweets consist of more pornographic content, provoking each other and wording your wishes of what you would like to do to one another on your timelines.

Like posting captions that say, ‘wish you were here’ alongside a video of a woman getting fucked into a worn-out mattress.

Or ‘this could be us’ and it’s a video of 2 people kissing like it’s their last day on earth.

But then at times, you both just chat like best friends. Talk about the movies you like. Or the anime he recommends. Or the music he likes to listen to. He gets oddly defensive about Justin Bieber.

Even though you’re both aware that you’re two strangers, you can’t help but feel like you two have known each other for longer than just a few weeks.

Like the time you found out you live in the same timezone. Live in the same state. Grew up watching the same things on TV. Have heard of each other’s high schools.

But any details have been kept private so far—for safety reasons, of course.

It’s not like you don’t trust him. It’s not that. It’s just weird sharing personal info with someone you don’t know personally.

But there’s been some talks about potentially meeting each other.

You wonder what he’s like in real life.

You bet he’s as charming as he is through text. Probably average looking but you don’t mind in the slightest. Pretty men only break hearts.

You still don’t know what he looks like and vice versa.

You still don’t know his name and vice versa.

Somehow you both wordlessly agreed on revealing your faces when you meet for the first time. The only physical details you’ve noticed are some of his tattoos that you can barely make out thanks to the poor quality of his pictures. His toned body. Veins. Sweatpants.

Most of his pictures are taken in the dark. Seems like he’s always just holed up at home and you deduce he might be a homebody or a gamer—something like that.

You usually can’t stand gamers (cue your annoying fucking neighbor) however, you can’t help but fantasize about sucking this random online stranger off while he’s gaming or have him bend you over his gaming setup. Let him fuck you from behind over his keyboard. Hips pounding into your asscheeks as his gaming chair squeaks.

The buzzing of your phone next to your hip snaps you out of your sinful trance.

[Twitter]

@archurback4me sent you a message!

Your heart always jolts like it’s been resuscitated every single time he sends you a message and that hasn’t changed in the past few weeks. There are simply no words to describe how it feels when your phone buzzes and it’s the person you’re thinking about.

You sit straight up on your couch, crossing your legs criss-cross applesauce as you giddily unlock your phone.

@archurback4me | 11:12AM

Goodmorning brat

How’d you sleep

Sleep. How’d you sleep.

Right, that’s what you’d forgotten!

You | 11:13AM

wait omg

now i remember

i dreamed about you omggg

well you were kinda faceless but in my dream i knew it was you

@archurback4me | 11:13AM

Did you?

What kind of dream

You | 11:13AM

honestly it started out weird as fuck lol

i wish i could tell you something sexy but it really isn’t

you were in my old high school trying to buy something from the vending machine and it wouldn’t work

so you ended up punching it and then i stopped you

and told you to hit me instead like some kind of pick me girl lmaoooooo

@archurback4me | 11:14AM

LMAOOOO

Bruhhh

That is so random

Hitting you is crazy

You | 11:14AM

i know

i mean

watching you be so aggressive was pretty hot tho

woke up w drenched panties

@archurback4me | 11:15AM

That so?

You got proof or are you just talking out of your ass?

You | 11:15AM

ur trying to see my pussy at 11am? really? you’re horny at this hour?

@archurback4me | 11:16AM

11AM or 11PM

Idgaf

Let me see that pretty pussy

How are you supposed to decline when he says it like that?

You want to do everything he asks. Anything. Want him to want you. Need him to want you.

You drag your sweats down your legs, tossing them off your bed with a quick kick. The tip of your finger slips under the elastic of your panties, peeling it off your pussy and sliding it to the side.

Arm stretched out, you reach for a low angle of your glistening pussy. There’s a teeny tiny bit of stubble coming through, not that either of you really care.

You snap a quick photo. Check it. Aren’t satisfied. Snap a few more until you’re okay with the row of pictures you can choose from.

You | 11:19AM

(You sent a photo.)

@archurback4me | 11:21AM

For fucks sake

That wet from imagining me shaking up a vending machine, are you?

Shit

Can’t stop staring

You | 11:21AM

well yes.

i mean honestly

i don’t fantasize about you hitting me or anything like that

but being slapped across the face by you kind of sounds... hot

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

I’ve seen you tweet about it before

And you’ve rted several videos like that

So trust me

I know you’re into that

You | 11:23AM

hmm

yeah

i think it’s hot

but not like.. the way you’d slap someone for making fun of your mom

just... a quick slap to make me look at you when i’m disobeying

:)

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

Choking, spanking, slapping, hairpulling, spitting, gagging

You sure you can take all that?

You | 11:23AM

are you challenging me?

@archurback4me | 11:25AM

No

I know better than to challenge a brat over text

Just wanna make sure angel

You | 11:25AM

trust me i’ll be loud about it if i don’t like it

but only if you’re down with it

@archurback4me | 11:26AM

I am

Because your dirty mouth definitely deserves a few slaps whenever you start yapping like you do so well

You | 11:27AM

kiss my ass jay

you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid lmao

Oh, right. He’d told you to call him Jay about two weeks ago. You’ve been calling him that ever since.

@archurback4me | 11:30AM

Wish I could princess

Let me see that ass one more time

You | 11:30AM

🙄.

what do i get in return?

@archurback4me | 11:32AM

I’ll write your username on my pelvis and post a vid of me jacking off

Oh.

The thought of him, jacking off with your username written across his pelvis, free for everyone to see. The thought of claiming him. Having him all to yourself.

The tingle in your core is impossible to ignore. You want him.

You | 11:33AM

so all those ppl chatting you up in your dms know that you ultimately belong to me?

@archurback4me | 11:33AM

If that’d allow me to see your ass then 100%

You | 11:33AM

ur so thirsty

so many asses you can see online

why mine

@archurback4me | 11:34AM

Because yours is my favorite duh

You don’t have to of course

There’s a compromise, isn’t there?

His favorite?

Does he chat with other people as well? Do others send him pictures of their body too? Does he send them pictures too?

That alone brings a scowl to your face but you quickly realize that, yes, he can do what he wants.

You get up on your knees and stretch your arm out behind you. Phone upside down. Hit record. Spank your ass. Catch the watch it recoils on camera.

Repeat.

Make him never want anyone else again.

You | 11:35AM

🙄.

just shut up

(You sent a video.)

@archurback4me | 11:35AM

Holy shit I need you

I need you so bad

Ahhhh you’re driving me fucking crazy

You | 11:36AM

you could have me

@archurback4me | 11:36AM

I’m so serious I’ll come one of these weeks and I’m not even joking

You | 11:36AM

i wish you would

@archurback4me | 11:38AM

I will

Give me a date I’ll write it down

You | 11:38AM

you’re coming to stay for a few days, right?

i have plenty of room in my bed for you

@archurback4me | 11:39AM

Hmm

Was hoping you’d say that

One night with you would never be enough for me

You | 11:40AM

hehe

exactly 3 weeks from now

the entire week

what do you say?

@archurback4me | 11:42AM

Never noted something faster

I have a dog though

So I was thinking it’d be easier for you to come to me

You | 11:43AM

i don’t mind you bringing your dog

luv dogs

but don’t think i forgot about what i was gonna get in return for sending you my ass

@archurback4me | 11:44AM

Jeez

He doesn’t reply for quite some time. The typing bubble doesn’t pop up either.

But after several minutes a new tweet pops up on your feed.

He didn’t caption it. Just a video that starts with his abs. You watch as his fingers trail down his stomach and tug his underwear down, revealing his squiggly inked skin.

And there it is, ‘@bratgaIore’ written across his pelvis in black marker.

He spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his shaft, stroking his rock hard dick at a perfect pace. The sound has been turned off and you really wish it wasn’t but then again, you don’t want anyone else hearing him.

Want him sounding pretty for you. Just for you.

You’ve clearly been staring at the video for too long because you get a new message.

@archurback4me | 11:54AM

Happy?

You | 11:56AM

holy shit

you actually did it

@archurback4me | 11:57AM

Of course I did

I don’t play when it comes to that ass of yours

You | 11:58AM

hm

now im rlly horny

@archurback4me | 11:58AM

Aren’t you always

You | 11:58AM

thanks to you

i hate you

@archurback4me | 11:59AM

That’s fine

The feeling’s mutual anyway

Gonna enjoy the way you fall apart under me when I fuck you

Fuck you until you’re stupid

You | 12:03PM

a dream come true

:p

guess what

@archurback4me | 12:04PM

Hm?

You | 12:06PM

(You sent a photo.)

The photo is a picture of your soaking wet pussy with his username written on your pelvis in black marker, too.

@archurback4me | 12:08PM

What the fuck

You’re trying to fucking kill me angel

I need to insert my tongue immediately

You | 12:09PM

here come the harvard graduates

insert is crazy

@archurback4me | 12:10PM

You drive me crazy

Pussy got me acting all formal and shit LMAOO

Got me wanting to wear a bib and say Itadakimasu😋 when I dive in

Fuck

Want you on my face so fucking bad

Spank you while you ride my face

Don’t think I’ve ever seen something so pretty

Think my mind will change when I see your face though

You | 12:11PM

LMAOOOO not itadakimasu😭😭😭

hmm

you like it?

@archurback4me | 12:12PM

Are you insane

I keep going back to it

You should write my username when we meet so I can see it when I take your clothes off

Know that your pussy belongs to me

You | 12:12PM

if you do it too

@archurback4me | 12:13PM

Deal

You | 12:13PM

hehe

😋.

btw

@archurback4me | 12:14PM

Hm?

You | 12:14PM

are you clean

@archurback4me | 12:15PM

What?

You | 12:16PM

like

are you clean

for raw sex

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Oh

Yeah I am

I’ll send you my results when I’m home

You | 12:16PM

you don’t have to do that i believe you

i’m clean too

where are you rn?

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Just left to meet a friend

You | 12:17PM

oh

you’re not texting and driving right

@archurback4me | 12:18PM

Of course not, babe.

How am I supposed to meet my dumb girl when I’m dead?

I’m going by foot

Babe.

My dumb girl.

This is dangerous territory.

You | 12:19PM

hm

just like how i want to be the death of you as i tease you while ur in public

@archurback4me | 12:19PM

Don’t

I’m warning you

I don’t wanna meet my friends with a raging boner

I just got rid of one

You | 12:20PM

ur so easy lol

@archurback4me | 12:22PM

Just you wait you little brat

Gonna leave you so fucking sore when I’m done with you

No breaks

Fuck you the whole week long

You | 12:23PM

hmm

gonna fuck me like you hate me?

@archurback4me | 12:24PM

I do hate you

A lot

Dumb girl

Don’t think that’s gonna change when I see you in real life

Might get even more pissed off when I see your bratty mug actually

I just know your face is so fucking bratty

You | 12:25PM

you’d be obsessed with me

i’m really pretty

@archurback4me | 12:26PM

Lmao yeah I probably will be

I’m sure you are

Gonna defile your pretty face when I cum all over it you stupid brat

But my friend’s here

I’ll ttyl princess

You | 12:27PM

can’t wait

bye daddy

@archurback4me | 12:27PM

Hell nahhhhh

Don’t call me that

You | 12:30PM

ok then bye mr. fuck-you-everyday-of-the-week

@archurback4me | 12:30PM

And will

Night after night

You | 12:30PM

go already

byeeeee

@archurback4me | 12:32PM

Bye princess

You go about your day like you usually would and later that night, he ends up sending you his results anyway. You were already asleep by then, though.

⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆  ⋆ ⋆

Want to keep reading? The full chapter is out on my Wattpad.

Click here to keep reading.

a/n: thanks to tumblr’s new max 1k blocks limit, i’ll have to figure out how i’m gonna post the full thing on here. (probably tomorrow or friday) either by combining paragraphs or add the continuation in a reblog or something. but its out on wattpad so i hope you’ll forgive me !!

thanks for reading <33

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Here’s the link to continuation (in a reblog).

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@mygdday @coletaehyung @btspurplesky @kaitieskidmore97 @marvelbun @nini_07777 @8514238 @llallaaa @s3l3n0phil3 @agrika @ahgasegotarmy116 @canyon-lwt @boyfriendtaekook @s4yok0 @mochminnie @chimmisbae @muah-minhoe-8 @bloopkook @whoa-jo @dreami-yoonkookie @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @keroppitae @junecat18 @hollowtree11 @jksusawife @synnfulqt @pamzn @jknoah @jjk-jeongirl @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @codeinebelle @taegicity @bettybloop @kookssecret @MMFranklin @vickyyy97 @suciedad-divina @jkslipppiercing @heyyolly04 @partyparty-yah @kooact @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @plushjeno @jjk1iscoming @Heyrobitches @sunnysorasworld @raineo @jjanjankook @etaerealboyv @somehowukook @larryrulesthisfuckingworld @rrrapmonste-rr @denisaandreea20 @httpjeonlicious @jjeonjennie @dellalyra @optimisticmoongalaxy @ishizhans

[marvelsmylife]

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t

Pairing: Azriel x reader 

Plot: After accidentally listening to your mate confess to his brothers that he thinks your clingy, you decided to give him space and discover who you are outside of your relationship. What happens when Azriel notices the distance between the two of you. Will he fix what he broke or will he make it worse.

Warning: Angst angst angst. Accusations of cheating. Azriel’s an ass by the end of this.

A/n don’t worry, I’m already planning on making a part two to this. I always try to have happy endings to all of my stories.

Part two Part Three Bonus Scene

ACOTAR Masterlist

Prompt list

She’s just- She's just very clingy. You were not supposed to hear the current conversation Azriel was having with his brothers. But that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to be hurt by what your mate was saying: “I just wish she would get a hobby or make friends outside of our inner circle. I feel like I can't go anywhere without her asking where I’m going or if she could tag along,” Azriel added and earned a disapproving look from Cassian.

“You don’t mean that,” Cassian argued back: “I would give anything for Nesta to want to spend that amount of time with me.”

It was no secret how complicated Cassian’s relationship with his mate. He’d vented to Azriel and Rhysand about his frustration with the current status of his and Nesta’s relationship. He told Azriel countless times how much he wished he had what you and Azriel had.

Not being able to stomach what your mate was saying about you, you disappeared into your bedroom and silently cried yourself to sleep.

The following morning, instead of waking up Azriel with breakfast in bed like you usually do, you decided to wander the streets of Velaris. In all the time you have lived in this city, you've never really explored it, only going to Rita’s, Rhysand's townhouse, and the river house.

You weren’t sure what you were looking for in particular, so you just decided to go with the flow and see where you ended up. You started with grabbing breakfast at a tiny restaurant you’ve probably passed a dozen times but didn’t notice until now.

Following that, you decided to shop to pass the time. You were ready to head home when you stumbled upon a dance studio. It was always your dream to be a dancer growing up, but seeing as your family was too poor for you to buy you lessons, your dream never got to be fulfilled. That was until today.

You contemplated if you wanted to enter the studio when a male stepped out of the building and asked: “Are you planning on signing up for classes?”

“No, no,” you shook your head as you wrapped your arms around your body: “I’ve never danced a day in my life, so I’ll probably make a fool of myself.”

The male let out a small laugh at your response: “Don’t worry, the morning classes are for beginners. Come, you can sit in during this class, and you could decide if you want to join after.”

You were about to decline his offer when the events from the night before flooded your mind again. She’s too clingy. She needs to get a hobby and make new friends. “You know what? Why not. I have nothing planned for the day,” you responded and followed the male into the dance studio.

It was lunchtime by the time the dance class was over, and you decided to sign up to start taking classes the following day. Everyone was so friendly to you, and you could tell the instructor was passionate about teaching others how to dance. That inspired you to sign up to take classes for a month and see where you go from there.

Throughout the class, though, you felt Azriel tug on the bond. Which was strange because he’d never done that before. You would reciprocate just to let him know you were ok.

As soon as you left the studio, you decided to stop by Rhysand’s townhouse to see Feyre and Nyx. To your surprise, everyone was there, including Azriel, who was currently playing with Nyx. This was strange because Azriel and Cassian usually spent most of their day training the Valkyrie. 

“Y/n !” Feyre squealed with excitement as she ran to greet you.

Azriel’s immediately looked over at you. He wanted to go towards where you were so he could ask where you went in the morning, but Nyx forbade him from leaving where he was. So, instead, he had to hear you tell everyone what you were up to.

“That’s amazing !” Feyre smiled. She knew about your dream of being a dancer and has been trying to convince you to take classes with the money Rhysand has been paying you.

After spending an hour catching up with everyone, you told them you had to pick up a few things for your first day. “I promise I’ll come straight here after my first class to tell you how it went,” you promised while grabbing your things.

Azriel was surprised when you started walking towards the front door without asking him if he wanted to go with you. “Um, would you like for me to accompany you?”

“No, thank you,” you replied without looking at him: “But thank you for offering.”

While you were hurt by what Azriel confessed to his brothers, you weren't going to be rude towards him for his own feelings. 

Everyone glanced at Azriel, puzzled because you always wanted Azriel’s company when you went out, especially if it involved shopping. “Is everything ok between you and y/n? She always wants you to go shopping with her, mainly so you can carry her bags, but still,” Mor asked.

“I don’t know,” Azriel replied honestly: “Last time I checked, we were doing ok.”

Cassian wanted to make a snide comment about the conversation they had the night before, but he kept his mouth shut.

That became your routine for the next six months. You woke up, went to dance classes, and either hung out with the new friends you made at dance class or spent time at the river house. As much as Azriel’s words hurt you, you could not help but thank him. If it wasn't for him, you would not be doing what you loved and creating so many new friendships.

Throughout that time, though, Azriel noticed you were pulling away from him. He missed waking up to you making him breakfast in bed. He missed when you would pester him about details of his day, but most of all, he missed your constant physical contact.

While you haven’t completely stopped touching him, he noticed you stopped sitting so close to him that you were basically on top of him. He also noticed you’ve stopped inviting him to go anywhere with you and stopped asking if you could tag along whenever he would go into town.

He was growing worried you were falling out of love with him or worse, you were cheating on him.

He knew your dance instructor was a male and grew paranoid that you were cheating on him with your instructor. “She’s not cheating on you Az. She loves you too much to do that to you,” Rhysand reassured Azriel.

“I would have believed you if you would have said that six months ago,” Azriel hid his face in his hands: “But she’s a completely different person now. She barely touches me anymore. The last time we had sex was over a month ago. I’m going crazy, and she doesn’t even care.”

Cassian couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Azriel’s comment: “Sex isn’t everything you know. Have you tried talking to her about this?”

“It is if we used to do it at least once a day, and to answer your question, no, I haven’t because she’s never home. She’s been at that dumb dance studio rehearsing for a recital they’re having tomorrow.” 

“Instead of complaining about her dancing, why don’t you go to the recital to support her. Just because you think it’s dumb doesn’t mean it’s not important, especially to her,” Rhysand advised.

As much as Azriel didn’t want to, he did what Rhysand suggested and went to your dance recital the next day. He showed up with a big bouquet of roses that earned some stares from strangers in the audience. He didn’t care. He was there for you and only you.

And he was so happy he ended up going. He watched in awe as you danced so elegantly across the stage. He mentally cursed himself for calling what you were doing dumb because watching you dancing made him fall in love with you all over again. By the time the recital was finished, Azriel had a speech about how proud he was of you and how amazing you looked dancing on stage. 

Unfortunately, right as he was about to approach you after the recital ended, your instructor pulled you into a hug and spun you around.

Azriel was fuming and threw the roses he bought for you on the floor before stocking over to where you were: “Azriel. You-”

You didn’t have a chance to finish before Azriel ripped your instructor off of you and started punching him.

“Azriel ! ! !” You yelled at your mate as he punched your instructor repeatedly.

It took six male faes to finally remove Azriel from your instructor. “I’m sorry y/n. You are a phenomenal student, but you can not attend my classes anymore. You and your mate are banned,” your instructor said before storming away.

You felt your heart break at the news you were given and found yourself dropping to the floor. To Azriel’s credit, he immediately regretted his actions and tried to comfort you: “Y/n, I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t,” you glared at your mate and started getting up: “How could you do this to me. You knew how important dancing was to me, and now you got me banned from the place I started to call home.”

“I’m your home ! ! !” Azriel yelled defensively: “I barely see you anymore because you spend all your time at that dumb dance studio. I just want my mate back!”

You let out a dry laugh at Azriel’s comment: “I was just giving you exactly what you wanted. For me to not be so damn clingy all the time. I found a hobby and made friends, but now you ruined it.”

Azriel stiffened at your words. He remembered the night he said those horrible words and the harsh words both Cassian and Rhysand had said to him afterward. They made him realize what he had with you was unique, and he should cherish every moment he had with you because tomorrow was never guaranteed, especially for them. He just didn’t know you overheard him say those things: “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“Save it. I can’t even look at you right now,” you inhaled sharply: “I’m going to stay with a friend for a few nights. Don’t worry, it’s not my instructor. Our friendship is clearly done after the stunt you just pulled.” You started walking away but turned around to add: “He’s gay, by the way. He has a partner and a beautiful son they adopted three years ago.”

And just like that, the weight of Azriel’s actions hit him as he watched you walk away. 

@byyalady @sheblogs @janebirkln @starsinyourseyes @cumuluscranium @honeybee54321

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hey I have a request!!

Capitol!Reader is from a rich and wealthy family which makes her an eligible wife for Snow who is in his second year as president which makes him 24. Reader is just about to turn 18 and she’s still in the academy. She’s being forced into a marriage the moment she is of age (18) but she very much dislikes Coriolanus. She is forced to hang out with him but she is sometimes a brat to him because she loathes him, she does not love him. The day she turns 18, Snow waits outside of the academy for her with white roses but she gets furious that he’s at her school infront of everyone and everyone now knows that they sale courting each other. She causes a scene (up to you what happens) and snow becomes incredibly mad at her. Honestly would love to see dark!coriolanus.

Thank you! Btw I love your fics sm 😭 I’ve been here since you started writing house of the dragon fics!

Fallen Roses || Young President! Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!Reader

A/n: Thank you so much for this request! And thank you for sticking with me through my changes 😂

Warnings: possessive snow?

Wc:

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“He’s in his second year as President, and he needs a wife. You are perfect for it, y/n.” Your mothers whispers harshly to you as you sat there, arms crossed, looking to the side. You had been called out of High Biology and into Dr. Gaul's office.

"I don't want to be his wife! I don't even know him!" You argue back to your mother as her face stiffens and her eyes darken. You gulp. "Listen here, daughter. When you turn 18 in a couple of days, you will marry President Snow whether you like it or not. You will have the honor of becoming the First Lady of Panem. Be grateful that you have this opportunity. Do not ruin this for us!" Your mother fires back.

Dr. Gaul sits across the desk from the two of you, watching as mother and daughter fight. "There is something you must understand Miss Y/L/N, Coriolanus Snow picked you himself to be his wife. That is the most highest honour he could ever give. You will live in the Presidential Mansion with him, not lift a single finger, and bask in your riches-" You loudly scoff.

"Hell sounds better than that," You spat in annoyance as you could see your mother shooting daggers your way from your peripheral vision. That was not the life that you wanted to have for yourself in the future. Your life right now was worse. You hated being the centre of attention; although that could never be avoided due to your high status, your parents, and your enormous wealth.

You were grateful without a doubt, but you'd rather give away your riches to people who actually needed it. You hated being forced into events, wearing outfits that were far too uncomfortable, making conversation about the weather and whatnot. It was not your cup of tea even though you were brought up with this kind of lifestyle your entire life. The thought of doing that all over again but as the second most important person in all of Panem? That would be absolute torture.

Dr. Gaul sighs, looking at your mother before closing her mouth again. You liked to argue and shut people up, and you were pretty darn good at it. "President Snow will be here shortly to meet you. I hope you show him the respect that he well deserves." She gives you a knowing look as you roll your eyes.

"Great," You mutter under your breath. The three of your all sat in his office in silence for a few minutes before the door opened behind you. Your mother and Dr. Gaul stand up to greet the President as you stayed sitting, staring at the wall behind Dr. Gaul.

"President Snow," Your mother greets him in her sickly fake voice that you hear every time you are at social events. "Coraline, lovely to see you again," You hear him say as you feel him move closer to you and your mother as he kisses her cheek.

"Dr. Gaul, always lovely to see you," He shakes her hand, "As to you Mr. Snow," She chuckles. Then it was silent. You were still sat in your seat. You could tell Snow was staring at you. "Y/n, it's lovely to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you." You lightly chuckle, turning your head to look up at him.

"Wish I could say the same," You remark, "Now can I leave? I really don't want to be missing out on the lesson," Your eyes move to your mother and Dr. Gaul. "Your schedule has been cleared for the whole day Miss Y/l/n, you will instead, accompany President Snow to his home," Dr. Gaul exaplains.

"What?" You sit up in your seat, hands gripping the arms tightly as they turn white. "You want me to be alone with him?" "You're going to have to get used to it, sweetheart." Snow chuckles behind you as you grip the arms even tighter, your knuckles turning white. "Y/n." Your mother sternly says as you let out a sigh from your nose.

"This is ridiculous, you can't force me into this!" You yell at your mother, "She can't. But I most certainly can. Now shall we?" Snow offers his arm as you stare at him in disbelief. You abruptly stand up making the chair screech against the floor and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Your heals click on the marble floor as you quickly leave the room. "I knew I would like her," Snow comments making your mother turn a slight colour of red from embarrassment. Students were still in their classrooms. The last thing you wanted was even more attention from everyone when they see you and the President together.

You make a sharp turn from the usual route to outside. "Where are you going?" Snow calls out as you turn to him, "Like hell I'm letting other people see me with you, alone." You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him. He stands there, hands tucked into his jacket as he looks down, chuckling.

"Like I said, sweetheart, you're going to have to get used to it. You will be Panem's First Lady after all." He tilts his head at you. You kiss your teeth, letting your arms fall to your sides. "Yeah well I want to savour the final last moments of my freedom, so let me, yeah?" And with that you turn around disappearing from sight.

~

For the next couple of days, you had been forced into hanging out with Coriolanus. Whether it be having a meal with him in the presidential mansion, or him accompanying you as you are forced to go shopping for even more clothes. You had slightly warmed up to him, he could tell. But your disapproval of the whole situation was still there. Your attitude towards him was a clear give away.

Coriolanus quite enjoys your witty remarks. It entices him. Part of the reason as to why he picked you was that you hated your lifestyle and knew you had quite the tongue. He figured you were entertaining to tease. And of course, he found you the prettiest out of all the girls at the academy.

The dreadful day had finally come. You turned 18. Which meant that you could kiss your last ounces of freedom and happiness goodbye the minute Snow slips a ring on your finger. You had school that day. You figured you would be pulled out from your first class to meet with Snow but that was not the case.

Throughout the day you grew anxious by the second. You had yet to be pulled out. The bell rang indicating the school day was over and nothing happened. Did Snow pull out? Did he change his mind? You hoped it was the latter.

You pack up your things and wave goodbye to your friends as they all start to pour out of the main doors of the Academy. From afar you could see a small crowd forming. You make your way towards the crowd and was horrified to see Snow leaned up against a car, a bouquet of white roses in one hand.

"Mrs. Snow," He smirks the second he sets eyes on you as the crowd around you gasp in shock. You felt pure rage and hatred towards the man standing in front of you. You storm closer to him, yanking the flowers from his hands and throwing it on the floor. "Do not call me that," You spat, venom laced in your tone as Snow's eyes darken. He grips your upper arm as the peacekeepers open the car door.

Snow roughly pushes you inside the car as he slams the door. "You have been acting like an ungrateful little brat. Show some fucking respect to your husband." He grips your chin as your eyes begin to water. "You are not my husband." You say as he grips your chin even tighter making you wince. "I will be, whether you like it or not, darling." He smirks at you, all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off his lips.

You push him off of you as you sit furthest away from him. A tear rolls down your cheek. This was going to be your life from now on. "First thing you should now about being Panem's First Lady." Snow turns his head towards you, his hands roll up his sleeves, "Do not. Refuse. My flowers. Clear?" You don't say anything.

"I said, do I make myself clear!" He yells as you flinch. You tore your eyes away from the window. "Crystal clear." You choke out as he grins in satisfaction. "Good."