now that i think about it the second one looks better

Bet || R.M.

Originally posted by alltimewolf

Word Count: 2095

Pairing: Ross!Reggie x reader

Summary: Chuck bets Reggie five hundred dollars to hook up with you, his tutor, and the outcome leaves you heartbroken.

Warnings: smut, fingering, cussing, unprotected sex, Reggie being a complete fuckboy, complete filth

Requested by anon:

“Hey Can you do a Reggie imagine where his bet that he couldn’t get the reader to go out with him. The reader is really pretty and awkward. So he tries and eventually falls in love with her. With a really fluffy ending. I know it’s cliché, haha.”

I kind of strayed off from the request, hope that’s okay! I might do a second part where it’s fluffier though!

Masterlist

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Won’t Let Go

Title: Won’t Let Go

Summary: When you return to the bunker with Sam, you realize how shaken Dean is after everything that has happened. All you want to do is comfort him but he ends up promising you something you never thought he would.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 1063

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of blood and death. Spoilers for the episode 12x22 “Who We Are”. Bit of fluff because let’s be real, we all need this.

Author’s Note: So. The two hour finale. It killed me. And episode 22? Also killed me. Jensen’s acting killed me. I’m just completely dead right now, okay? So, I had to write this because my Deanie Beanie deserves all the love and comfort in the world *clears throat* *pulls herself together*

Right. This is set right after the last scene of the episode, meaning right after that group hug the three Winchesters share. The gif used is not mine. You can find it here

Enjoy <3 


The steady sound of running water overwhelmed your senses as you bonked your head against the shower door, washing away worries and fears and that little voice in the back of your mind that told you it was impossible for you to be there, to be back in the bunker again, alive and safe and almost unscathed.

Breathing deeply, in and out, you wrapped yourself around a towel, and got out of the shower slowly, eyes already darting towards the fresh scars and wounds covering your skin.

You should be used to it by now, but the thought of dying, of leaving this world, even in a blaze of glory with Dean and Sam next to you, had scared you more than you’d like to admit.

In and out.

Running your fingers through your hair, you let the towel drop to the floor and reached for your underwear, then slipped into one of Dean’s flannels, mind drifting to him almost intuitively. You’d only seen him for a few moments after you and Sam had returned from your mission, but you could tell that, whatever he’d seen in that dream sequence inside Mary’s head had hurt him. Really hurt him, even though he’d never say that out loud.

And, God, you worried about him.

In and out.

Soon enough, you were in the room you shared with Dean, only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, holding what you knew was a picture of himself and his mother in hand.

Your heart broke.

“Hi there.” You whispered, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked up then, green eyes lighting up just a bit as he registered your presence.

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multiotp  asked:

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE ANY MORE!" "I DON'T RECOGNIZE MY SELF!" That's in all caps because I see it as screamed. Can you do that for boyf friends sorry I'm so awkward and used to being able to hide behind anonymous but I've fallen in love with your writing lately. Only if you want to you don't have too

I FINALLY DID IT AH! So sorry it took me so long, I could go on about exams and all that shit but I’m sensing you will hopefully get the picture.
Regardless, thank you for the prompt/request!

——

It was a Saturday night and the boys were spending their time wisely - playing video games in Michael’s basement. They weren’t sure how long they had been in there but neither bothered to care.

Finally, after hours of waiting, Jeremy was released from hospital. After the eventful school day on Friday Michael had offered that Jeremy stay at his house that night to catch a break, and Jeremy whole
-heartedly agreed. As soon as they arrived home, Jeremy collapsed onto Michael’s bed and fell asleep, exhausted from all the questions he had received that day. Michael soon followed suit and before they knew it the two woke up at 3am on a Saturday morning.

Now, with nothing else to do, the boys were still playing video games. Eventually, the inevitable red with white text ‘GAME OVER’ flashed onto the screen, ending the particular match.

“Awe come on!” Michael complained, setting down the controller and flopping onto the beanbag behind him. Jeremy sat adjacent, frowning at the TV. “I thought we were finally gonna beat that one!”

“Y-Yeah…” Jeremy replied, still staring at the TV. After a few seconds passed, Michael sighed, hoisted himself upright and went to eject the disk from the console.

“Woah Michael, we were playing-”

“Not anymore,” he announced, returning the disk to its place on the shelf. “I wanna play something I know we can win.”

Before Jeremy could question him, Michael pushed an unknown disk into the slot and bounced back into his beanbag just in time to see the words ‘Apocalypse of the Damned’ appear on screen.

“Oh…” Said Jeremy in response.

“Come on dude,” Michael cheered, grabbing his controller off the floor and hitting play. “This one is no match for us.”

——

An hour later and Michael was seriously starting to worry about Jeremy. Not only had they not gotten past their usual warmup match but had been stuck in the same God damn area for 60 whole minutes. And Micheal knew something was up when Jeremy didn’t respond to his usual code words for 'Zombie, right behind you’ or 'Use the axe not the riffle for this one’ - the list went on. Eventually, he jammed down on the pause button and turned to face his best friend.

“Ok, what happened?” He demanded, snatching the controller from Jeremy’s hands.

“W-what?” Jeremy stuttered in response, completely oblivious to his best friend’s reasons for questioning.

“Something’s up, I can tell. You’re usually great at this game bro! Even better than me. But something’s off tonight.” Micheal shuffled closer and rest his head in his palms. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Jeremy shifted awkwardly on the beanbag, trying not to meet Michael’s gaze.

“I..I-it’s nothing really I just-”

“It’s the Squip isn’t it,” Michael said, instantly recognising the type of hesitation he was being given. For the past few hours Michael had tried to ask Jeremy about the Squip but all that he received was the same 'it was nothing’ stammer each time.

Jeremy looked up, something shifting in his demeanour.

“I don’t want to play this anymore.” He stated, slowly and every words feeling like a drop of venom.

“W-what?” Michael said in response.

Jeremy locked eyes with Michael and arched his back so that he was sitting upright. He spoke even clearer.

“I don’t want to play this anymore”

“Yo Jeremy, dude, calm down.” Michael started, reaching out to his best friend. But Jeremy flinched backwards, slapping Michael’s fingers away.

“D-don’t touch me tall ass!” He cried, falling off of the beanbag and into the floor. Instantly he recognised the words that he had spoken, covering his mouth with his spare hand. But Michael had already heard them.

“W…what did you just call me?” He stammered, slowly rising from the beanbag. Jeremy climbed off of the floor to meet him, stuttering an attempted apology.

“I didn’t mean- that’s not what I - fuck - Michael I, that- that wasn’t-”

“T-Tall ass?!” Michael cried, stepping away from Jeremy. “What the hell dude?”

“No Michael I-”

“What happened to you?” He questioned, louder this time. “What has he done to you Jer? Was it worth it? Making you popular but turning you into… this?”

“I don’t-”

“Dude I don’t know who you are anymore-”

“I DON’T EVEN RECOGNISE MYSELF!” Came Jeremy’s answer. Michael flinched at the sudden increase in volume, eyes flying up to meet his best friend’s. Jeremy’s bright blue eyes soon began to fill with tears as he slumped against the wall.

“He’s gone Michael… but he won’t go away…” he muttered, head flying into to his hair. “Everything I do, I can still hear that voice in the back of my mind telling me what I’m doing wrong, mirroring his exact words. And I do it! I listen to it, because that’s what I’ve been programmed to do.”

“Jeremy…”

“And you know what the worst part is Michael? That voice isn’t even real! It’s inside my head, because it’s my voice. It’s me telling all those things. I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT MICHAEL! I-”

Jeremy was interrupted by the sudden feeling of arms wrapping around his waist and pulling his close into Michael’s chest. The boy hung on tightly, head hidden in the crook of Jeremy’s tear-stricken neck. Soon, his hands lowered from his hair to return the hug and the two slowly slid against the wall onto the floor.

No words were spoken between the two, just the action of each other being there was enough. The soft hum of the console filled the basement, the smell of candy and Mountain Dew carried through the air.

Eventually, Michael spoke, breaking the silence.

“I don’t care what he told you Jeremy, but you will always be my player two and nothing will change that ok? We’ll fight this, and we’ll come through stronger.” He tightened the hug between them. “I’ll always be here for you Jer.”

The tall boy smiled, returning the pressure of the embrace. He couldn’t help the shift in his smile as he spoke:

“That’s what friends are for yeah?”

Michael’s expression wavered as he responded.

“Yeah… best friends.”

Not Like This (Part 4)

Read:
Part 1: Here
Part 2: Here
Part 3: Here

Fandom:  Star Trek AOS (Soulmate AU)
Pairing: Reader x Bones
Word Count: 7,263
Rating: Teen+
Tag List: @outside-the-government @feelmyroarrrr @littlecarowrites @trekken81 @lurkch @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @yourtropegirl @answer-the-sirens  @alwaysinnarnia @mccoymostly @dolamrothianlady @stormsnevercometostay @bkwrm523  If you would like to join my main tag list, please let me know!
Author’s Note:  I’m sorry it took me so long to write this part, but I think you’ll like it!  There WILL be another part to this story, and it’s already almost done, so I promise there won’t be such a long wait for the next one.  Enjoy!!


              Everything seems like a horrible dream.  You feel like you’re treading through the thickest mud, barely able to move forward. Your mind is full of cobwebs, making everything muffled and dull.  You moan as aches and pains come back to you in full force, sending waves of agony through your body.  Your chest in particular is throbbing, through you can feel spikes of pain coming from other areas, like your injured arm and leg.

              You slowly open your eyes, blinking sluggishly, your eyelids feeling very heavy and weighed down by your extreme fatigue.  Everything looks too bright and blurred, and you blink a few more times, trying to clear your vision.  It helps a little, but nothing really comes into proper focus, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented.  You realize that someone is touching you, and you can feel something warm and wet against your neck.  You feel it move away from you and eventually realize someone had a washcloth on your skin. Why?  You can’t think clearly enough to figure out an answer.  You can’t remember what’s going on, and your heartrate spikes as fear and confusion start to take over your brain.

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POTO STOCKHOLM - CAST

PETER JÖBACK: So… I expected to maybe like him better than I did? Cause I like what he brings to the role, how he talks about it, I like so much *around* the actual interpretation and performance. But was kinda underwhelmed. Or, I liked his Phantom. Quite a bit, in fact. But I didn’t *love* his Phantom.

So, OK, his Swedish Phantom was definitely the most solid of the lot. He sounded more comfortable singing in his mother tongue, not forcing an accent, which made him less twangy. A very good thing. Also, he seemed to maybe have more leeway with the acting specifics, which made him add some discrete ad-lib-ing moments. And yet…

Though his Phantom was solid in so many ways, I still had the feeling of seeing more of a caricature? Like, more Phantom Manor than Phantom of the Opera. More how he thought the role should look than what the character is. Everything seemed just a *bit* exaggerated. And frankly, though he probably sung his heart out, I didn’t quite feel he had the voice to nail it. Like, he has the range, but not the booming quality. You can do elements of kitsch if you have the voice to justify it (Ian Jon Bourg, Scott Davies). But with a good voice with pop phrasing, you better keep the acting on the classy or classical side, so there is a balance. But he went for exaggerated hand gestures, lots of bent knees, and not fully justified moments, paired with a good voice with a pop approach.

All that said, I saw two slightly different performances from him. One Friday evening, where he clearly struggled voice wise, shifted way too much between chest voice and falsetto, and rather devastatingly missed the high note in «Down Once More». Also finished MOTN long before the orchestra. I was like «???». I remembered him as vocally much better. Turns out he is. That performance was either an off-night or just low energy. On the Saturday matinée he seemed more secure, with steadier voice, longer notes and also not missing any key notes. Was very happy to see him a second time and see that he handled the score fine.

I quite liked him in the Mirror Scene, the Phantom’s curse, as Red Death and in the Final Lair. Those were stand-out scenes for me. Those are also scenes where you expect the larger-than-life acting. His MOTN in the Saturday matinée was also quite nice, and he did a gorgeous «soooaaaar».

His Final Lair was definitely the most interesting one. He stumbled around stage with bent knees, was quite unpredictable, and displayed some fine acting. I also loved his added «NEEEEJ!!!», pronounced like a small, spoiled child experiencing someone taking his toys away. He did it three times; one after Christine throws the wedding veil at him, once right before letting Raoul loose of the magical lasso, and I can’t remember the third one. It was a good detail.

Yet, I stand by what I wrote above, about his Phantom feeling like a caricature at places, and that he has too much of a pop sound in his voice. Things I thought could be done differently. But all in all a solid Phantom, a good voice, and the sole reason this production came to be, probably. I was very happy to see him twice, to see how he might do stuff differently the second time, and to get a feeling of what his Phantom was all about. And it should be added that he had good chemistry with Emmi Christensson.


EMMI CHRISTENSSON: WHAT. A. GEM!!!!!!! Gorgeous, soaring, clear, bell-like, strong voice. A nuanced and detailed portrayal. So beautiful on stage.

I saw her as Cosette in the Norwegian tour in 2014, and adored her voice. I’ve heard clips from her London run as Christine, and loved it. So obviously I was hyped to see her live in Stockholm. But she was WAY better than I imagined. She had moments of very nervous, distressed emotions - not quite on the level of Anna O’Byrne, but still distressed. Kinda hammering the palm of her hands over her ears in the WYWSHA intro is one example, desperately trying to kill the voices. She also looked so perfectly innocent on stage.

Standout scene for me was WYWSHA - the whole thing seemed so genuine and so in despair. Instead of going for «listen to the grandeur that is my voice», she took it down a notch, displaying Christine’s grief and solitude. It was really nice. A bit similar to Mia Karlsson in Copenhagen. TOM was also a thing of beauty. Such a gorgeous voice, so feather light and pleasant and yet with a strength, especially the upper notes. TOM was a scene I never wanted to end, in large because of her voice, but also because of Anton Zetterholm’s acting, and because of the GORGEOUS World Tour Elissa skirt. Baaah.

Also, the Swedish translation of «The tears I might have shed for your dark fate…» is one of my favourites out there, and was extremely well delivered by Emmi C: «Du kunde fått förståelse och stöd. Men nej - jag kunde se dig DÖD!» (you could have gotten understanding and support (from me). But no (now) I could (happily) see you DEAD). That’s strong words.

All in all, Emmi Christensson really is one of those ultimate Christines. I loved her portrayal, I adored her voice, I loved many of the details, and she totally looked the part. And she’s Swedish too. Can’t beat that combo.


ANTON ZETTERHOLM: Due to a very Copenhagen-esque directing in the Swedish revival, Anton Zetterholm did have moments where he reminded a bit of Tomas Ambt Kofod. And y’all know that will never be a bad thing, as Kofod is probably my all-time fave Raoul.

That’s however not to say that Anton Zetterholm was a blueprint. He had moments where I got the feeling he tried to imagine why Raoul reacted as he did. For example, a more unique detail was exactly HOW bored Anton’s Raoul seemed to be during TOM, tapping his fingers, looking around, mostly looking like he wanted to leave. When Mme Firmin looked through her binaculars, he seemed to get curious and borrow them from her, only to discover it’s CHRISTINE, and then he is on fire, leading up to his sung lines. The change from utterly bored to super exited was more pronunced than I’ve ever seen it before. Really, REALLY good acting. And also kinda justifying the Phantom’s raging «slave of fashion» - this Raoul isn’t really into music, he’s only into Christine. Though not because the rest of Paris is. Rather due to their childhood friendship.

He also had fine moments in «Little Lotte», where he perceived what Christine told him so innocently and so different from what she intended. He wasn’t brushing her off, but appearing to think she was talking allegorically, but then getting down to business - food, catching up over dinner, the joy of meeting his childhood friend again, the joy over her triumph and her success.

Last, but not least, he really REALLY fought that magical lasso in the Final Lair. I was about to write “like his life depended on it”, which I guess is quite suitable for the role of Raoul in that moment…

And on the shallow side: so cool to see a blonde Raoul. Costume design (and slightly Barton) coming alive!

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duckswearhats  asked:

Hi, I read that you've dealt with with impostor syndrome in the past, and I'm really struggling with that right now. I'm in a good place and my friends are going through a lot, and I'm struggling to justify my success to myself when such amazing people are unhappy. I was wondering if you have any tips to feel less like this and maybe be kinder to myself, but without hurting anyone around me. It's a big ask, I know, but any help would make my life a lot less stressful

The best help I can offer is to point you to Amy Cuddy’s book, Presence. She talks about Imposter Syndrome (and interviews me in it) and offers helpful insight.

The second best help might be in the form of an anecdote. Some years ago, I was lucky enough invited to a gathering of great and good people: artists and scientists, writers and discoverers of things. And I felt that at any moment they would realise that I didn’t qualify to be there, among these people who had really done things.

On my second or third night there, I was standing at the back of the hall, while a musical entertainment happened, and I started talking to a very nice, polite, elderly gentleman about several things, including our shared first name. And then he pointed to the hall of people, and said words to the effect of, “I just look at all these people, and I think, what the heck am I doing here? They’ve made amazing things. I just went where I was sent.”

And I said, “Yes. But you were the first man on the moon. I think that counts for something.”

And I felt a bit better. Because if Neil Armstrong felt like an imposter, maybe everyone did. Maybe there weren’t any grown-ups, only people who had worked hard and also got lucky and were slightly out of their depth, all of us doing the best job we could, which is all we can really hope for.

(There’s a wonderful photograph of the Three Neils even if one of us was a Neal at http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2012/08/neil-armstrong.html)

Is Kara in love with Mon-El?

So, I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’ve come to the conclusion that she is not. And it’s not just wishful thinking and/or because I can’t stand him. There are actual clues in canon that show that Kara is not in love with her boyfriend. Here’s why:

Exhibit A

The way Kara acts around her love interests. She gets flustered, blushes a lot, acts awkward around them. 

around James:

around Adam:

around Mon-El: error 404 example not found. I can’t recall a single Karamel scene where Kara acts like this.

Bonus: around Lena:

Exhibit B

The trope that a love interest watches and looks at their crush dreamily as they leave.

James:

I know that Mon-El looked at Kara like this at least once too, but I’m really not in the mood to gif him so I’m gonna skip that since that’s not the point of this post. The point is to show that Kara is not in love with Mon-El, not vice versa.

But another person also looked at her like this, and even received this look from Kara herself in the latest Supergirl episode…

Exhibit C

These are actual quotes that Kara said about/to Mon-El:

  • “You are so selfish!”
  • “You are still the same macho egotistical Daxamite!”
  • “It’s not just the jealousy. It’s the patronizing ego thing.”
  • “Well, the first bit about your infuriating male ego, that part I meant.”
  • “More like you’re an arrogant dude-bro.”
  • “I can handle Mxyzptlk, but it’s Mon-El who’s infuriating.”

She’s never said things like these to James, and definitely not as excessively as she’s complaining about Mon-El. On the contrary, she said “You make me better.”

Another bonus; things she said about/to Lena:

  • “Kara Danvers believes in you.”
  • “I believe in her.”
  • “You are too good and too smart to follow in her path.”
  • “Now you have someone that will stand up for you, always.”

Exhibit D

This is Kara’s reaction when Mon-El first tells her about his feelings for her:

Exhibit E

This is Kara’s reaction when Mon-El says “I love you” for the first time:

In conclusion: I honestly don’t believe for a second that Kara has feelings for Mon-El. The most logical explanation is that she felt obligated to give Mon-El a chance because that’s what everyone told her to do or that she felt lonely and Mon-El knew what it’s like to lose a planet.
We know how Kara behaves around the person she’s crushing on. There are patterns. And we can’t see any of these patterns when Kara is around Mon-El. Besides the occasional kiss and “I’m happy” she doesn’t show any signs of having feelings for him. They haven’t even gone on any dates, not counting the one she took him on to “save” Lena.

Meanwhile @ CatCo:

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

Feel free to comment and/or add more.

2

i say “i’m seeing a therapist” and he takes a step backwards. why he wants to know. what happened. what made me like this, basically. what was the final step that pushed me safely into the side of scary people like them.

there’s a lot i think about. like how my illnesses effect me outside of the actual symptoms. like beyond the weight there’s a second river to drown in.

i mean we don’t talk about having to stare at employment papers where they ask you to self-identify your problems. that little bead of sweat that forms when you worry - what if i don’t tell them and i need help? what if i tell them and they think i’m a risk factor? what if they won’t give me the job?

we don’t talk about the way some people act when they find out. the ones who are rude about it are one thing. but then there’s those people you thought were your friends who act like you just told them you’re infectious. who become weird and distant and suspicious like a switch flipped. like if they get to close to you, you’ll give it to them.

we learn to be okay with things we overhear on the bus but we never get used to it coming out of the mouth of the people we love. we carry this secret with us like a rotted fruit, clutching it to our bodies. we’re ashamed of our scars in front of our boss. we don’t talk about our panic attacks during lunch breaks. when the cop pulls you over “i’m disassociating” isn’t an excuse we can open the page on. when you watch people make these ranting posts about how real friends always text back, how if someone loves you, they’ll find the time to spend. success stories make other people cry with inspiration while some part of your brain is saying you can’t do that, you’re not like them. things are uglier at the bottom. you can’t explain why you can’t just make friends. you can’t write because you’re depressed but when you’re depressed you write best. you can’t eat today and no don’t ask why please. nevermind taking the train. never mind trying to be happy. never mind reading books and watching movies and wondering where exactly are people like you in hero stories. i watch a video where a man tells me that being depressed is just a mindset. when i wear all black someone remarks i look particularly emo today. it’s 2017 does anyone say emo anymore, i ask her, and she laughs, “you just look like one of those fake-depressed girls.” okay.  

i don’t tell him my therapist is actually why things don’t happen anymore. why i’m getting a handle on it. my tongue feels swollen. i feel embarrassed talking about it. in the highest twist of irony, i think of how many people know my problems anonymously on the internet. i almost spill out all my troubles onto him. instead i tell him it’s just a precaution. that i think everyone should really see a therapist, they’re brain mechanics and we all need a tune-up now and then. he relaxes.

okay. okay. i’m sorry i’m one of them.

anonymous asked:

I'm going through a real rough patch and if you want to write something cheerful you have no idea how grateful I'd be.

Flash sidled up to Superman on one of the Watchtower’s mezzanines, leaning against a rail. They looked at each other sidelong, then away.

“Wanna hear my new time?” Flash asked sideways, swaying as he alternated which foot held his weight, hands on his hips.

“There’s no way you beat my time,” Superman muttered, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were in the other direction, and both men went silent as the Lanterns walked too close. Superman and Flash gave them a nod of acknowledgment, then waited for them to be at a safe distance.

“Nine seconds.”

“What!” Superman dropped his arms, whipped his head around to where Flash was grinning and bouncing on his heels. “No way.”

Flat,” Flash said.

“There’s no way.”

“Check my heartbeat if you don’t believe me,” Flash said, tapping his insignia with his thumb. Then he frowned. “Actually, don’t, I’m pretty excited about this so my pulse is probably crazy.”

His heart always sounded like an angry hummingbird trapped between his lungs, but Barry was also a notoriously terrible liar, so it wasn’t as relevant as it could have been.

Dangit,” Superman said, crossing his arms again. He leaned back to scope out the area around them. No one seemed to be paying them much mind. “What time?”

“Eleven on a Saturday,” Flash said, looking even more smug. “You know I don’t mess around.”

“Tch!” Superman made an irritated sound, licking his canines. Then he snapped his fingers. “You forgot about–”

“Nnnope,” Flash interrupted. “I’m including the new ones in that, that’s the whole reason we had to reset our times, otherwise I’d still be at seven-point-four.”

Tch.” Superman drummed his fingers against his bicep. “Nine seconds,” he repeated, torn between irritation and awe.

“You know what that means,” Flash said, waggling his eyebrows.

Superman sighed. “Alright, where are we going?”

“I want soup.”

“Uh-huh.” Superman waited. Flash was waiting for him to ask. Superman was not going to give him the satisfaction.

“… in Saigon.”

“You’ve been watching Bourdain again,” Superman accused.

“It looked like really good soup!” Flash said, defensive.

“Fine,” Superman said, “but I am going to beat your time, and when I do–”

“Beat what, now?” Wonder Woman asked, having managed to approach them while they were distracted by negotiations.

“Nothing!” Flash and Superman said at once.

“We were just talking,” Superman said.

“About stuff,” Flash added unnecessarily. “Private, personal, man stuff.”

Wonder Woman’s eyebrows shot up. She was close enough for her lariat to hum on her hip. She looked Flash over. Flash started to turn red.

“Okay bye!” Flash said, and he was gone in a streak of red.

“Superman?” Wonder Woman asked.

“I should, uh. Hal…”

He wasn’t actually making any definitive statements, just stringing words together, and yet somehow it still managed to ring false. She watched him go, putting her hands on her hips.

She could practically sense it when Batman came up beside her, even quiet as he was.

“Do you want to know what they were talking about.”

“Do you know?” she wondered. He said nothing, so she turned to look at his face. It was as expressionless as ever, but she got the impression that he did not consider the question worthy of dignifying with a response.

He was Batman. He would never be so rude as to say ‘of course’ – but of course he knew.

“I wouldn’t want to invade his privacy,” Wonder Woman said cautiously.

“He’d tell you if you really asked,” Batman said. “They just like feeling like they have a special thing.”

“Oh.”

“Flash, especially.”

“I see.” She tapped on her lower lip as she watched Superman talk to one of the Green Lanterns. “So what’s the special thing?”

“Pick me up in the plane on Saturday and I can show you.”

She froze. Slowly, she turned to look at him. As always, being able to see him helped not at all. “Like a date?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “More like a stakeout.”

“That could be like a date.” She was mostly saying it to tease him. Sometimes if she did it right, he turned pink and had to find a shadow to hide in.

“It’s usually not.”

“Why not?”

“I’m usually with the kids.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean–”

“It’s fine.”

She put her hand out to rest on his shoulder. “I would never imply–”

“I know.”

She took her hand back. “I’ll behave,” she assured him.

“You don’t have to,” he said, and she grinned.

“I’ll pick you up at ten,” she said, and she gave him an exaggerated wink as she walked away.

“It’s a date,” he murmured.


Why,” Wonder Woman asked, “are we in Florida?”

Batman was sitting beside her, and the plane was in a low hover. “Because as far as anyone can tell, this is the single biggest and busiest Walmart in the world.”

“I don’t think that explains as much as you think it does,” she said.

Batman held up a phone. A clock took up most of the screen. 10:59. “Watch,” he said, and he pointed out to the parking lot, vast and terrifying and teeming with people. She watched, and she had no idea how she was supposed to see anything in the crowd.

Finally, she spotted it. The motion too quick to be anything mortal. Would anyone on the ground notice anything more than a strong breeze?

“Oh! It’s the–” She snapped her fingers, couldn’t remember the word.

“Carts,” Batman supplied.

“Yes!”

In almost no time at all, every cart in the parking lot had been returned to one of the designated corrals. Batman pointed to something that he must have been using technology in his mask to see, because otherwise his eyes should not have been good enough. Wonder Woman was much better equipped to see Superman, standing beneath a tree and checking a stopwatch and scowling. He did some kind of motion with his arms and one leg that suggested he’d have thrown his hat to the ground, if he’d been wearing one.

“They introduced new carts,” Batman explained. “They don’t fit with the other ones, so it slows them down. Ruined their whole system.”

“They had a system?” she asked, giggling.

“No, here,” he said, tapping her arm to point again. “This is the best part. He’s frustrated.”

That’s the best part?”

“Watch what he does.”

She watched. Superman was gone again, more impossible-to-follow motion through the crowd. Things were moving. Large things.

“He’s fixing the cars!” she said, clapping her hands together.

“He’s fixing bad parking jobs,” Batman confirmed. “Because he’s mad.” There was a brief crooked curve to his mouth.

“He moved that one to a different space!”

“Illegally parked in a handicapped spot.”

“How fun.” Wonder Woman watched the people wandering through the lot, wondered how many of them had noticed what was happening and how many had disregarded it as nothing worth noticing. “Flash is the winner of this contest, then?”

“Consistently.”

“Is there a prize?”

“Clark buys him lunch. Usually somewhere he saw on a food show, since he can’t normally do that.”

“Why not?”

“Hm?”

“Barry can run anywhere, can’t he?” she asked. “I see no reason he couldn’t run to these places on his own.”

“He doesn’t like being alone in foreign countries,” Batman explained. “It makes him anxious.”

“Oh.” She returned her gaze to the parking lot. “How nice, then, that it all works out.” She frowned. “Is this weird?” she asked. “Spying on our friends like this.”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask.”

“Do you do this often?” she wondered. “Watch people have fun without you?”

“Define 'often’.”

Wonder Woman held up a finger in warning. “Zatanna taught me a trick.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“She says that if you ask me to define the parameters, it means the answer is bad.”

Before he could respond, there was a thump.

Superman was standing on the nose of the invisible jet.

He tapped a knuckle on the glass, until Diana opened the hatch. “Hello!” she said cheerfully.

“What are you two doing here?” Clark asked.

“We’re on a date!” Diana said.

“We’re not on a date,” Batman said.

“If you’re not on a date, can you give me a ride?”

“You’re out of our way,” Batman said.

“Nah, just drop me off in Gotham,” Clark said, slipping inside the plane, awkwardly floating between the two front seats into the back.

“You don’t even need a ride,” Bruce said, having to fit himself as far as possible into the edge of his seat so that Clark would have room to get by. “You can fly.”

“Yeah, and you can walk, but I don’t see you giving up the Batmobile.” Clark made himself comfortable in the back seat as Diana closed up the plane. “I’m craving Dimitri’s.”

“You’re too sober for Dimitri’s,” Bruce said.

“I’m always sober. You’re lucky I can tell this wasn’t a real date, or I would be really creeped out by the whole spying on me thing.”

“Don’t tell Barry we know about your special thing,” Diana said, pulling the plane out of its hover to ascend. “I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

“I won’t,” Clark assured her. “Hey, you know where we should go while we’re here?”

“No,” said Bruce.

“Where?” asked Diana.

“No,” said Bruce.

“Disney World!”

“No.”

Diana gasped.

“No.”

Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You can’t have come all the way to Florida just to see me,” he coaxed.

“I’m banned from Walmart, strongly discouraged from visiting Disney parks, and my parents are dead. I have no other reason to visit Florida.”

After Hours [m]

pairing: reader x Yoongi

Genre: tattoed!yoongi, rapper!tyoongi, angst? fluff? smut, idk how to label this haha

word count: 16,212

warnings: graphic sexual content, alcohol, language

a/n: this is loosely based of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. i am v nervous about this as it isn’t the usual angst fueled plot I normally write. so if it’s crap, please be kind haha. i’m tagging the lovely @dimplecoups​ because i know you’ve been waiting for this. and @2seoke for always being the best babe.

Originally posted by lethargicmin

You looked in the mirror, making sure your face mask was properly in place. If you were going to look like a serial killer for the next 20 minutes, you at least wanted to look the part. Your bed was calling your name as you walked over to the soft mattress, choosing to ignore the missed calls and text messages from your best friend. This was the first Saturday night you had to yourself in months. No work. No brother. No best friend. You were free to do whatever you wanted.

Or at least that’s what you had originally intended. But as the door to your bedroom crashed open you soon realized that the night had other plans for you.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” your best friend Irene squealed as she plopped down at the foot of your bed. “It’s Saturday night and I know you don’t have to work tomorrow!”

You gave her a look. Well, you tried to give her a look to the best of your ability as the motions of your face was restricted by the sheet mask on top of it. “There’s a reason why I didn’t answer your calls. And just because my idiot brother gave you a key to our apartment doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here any time you want.”

Irene rolled her eyes, blowing a large bubble from the gum she was constantly chewing. She was clearly not amused at your disinterest on leaving your apartment tonight. You reached forward, popping it with your pointer finger. “You’re no fun, Y/N” she whined, collecting the gum back into her mouth.

“I can’t have fun when I’m always too busy taking care of you.” you quipped, reminding her of the last time the two of you went out. “I had to beg that cop not to give you a ticket for being drunk in public. Why aren’t you bothering my brother? I’m sure he would love to see you.”

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Scavenger Hunt

Stiles/Derek, T, 2500 words, Meet Cute AU

Written for the following prompt:

“i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au

“Honey, I’m home!” Stiles calls out as he wrestles his roll bag over their entry mat.

“That’s still not funny,” Scott says, without looking up from his textbook.

“Once again, we disagree.”

Scott snorts. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” he says, plopping down right in the middle of the living room to start unpacking. “Typical conference. Some sessions were actually interesting, most were boring as shit.”

Scott hums, already absorbed again in his reading. Stiles reaches for the zipper on his suitcase but then freezes—this is definitely the same brand as his suitcase, but he doesn’t remember this extra zippered pocket on the top.

“Oh, shit.”

“What?”

Stiles grimaces. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t my suitcase. Goddamn it.”

Scott finally looks up, frowning. “Shit, really? How’d you manage that?”

“It was a redeye,” Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. “I was exhausted, in fucking LaGuardia, and I was just trying to get out of there as fast as humanly possible.”

“Is there a name on it? Are you sure it’s not yours?”

“Pretty sure,” Stiles says, feeling around the sides for the pocket. He sighs when he pulls out the little card and sees that it’s blank. “Motherfucker. This is definitely not my suitcase because I’m actually smart enough to put my name on it.”

“Sorry, man,” Scott says sympathetically as Stiles falls back on the rug with an anguished groan.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Open it,” Scott suggests. “Maybe there’s something with their name on it.”

Stiles fiddles with the zipper. He’s nosy as hell, in general, and normally he’d be jumping at the chance to rifle through someone else’s personal belongings. But… 

“What if there’s like, dead bodies in there or something?” he asks, and Scott just stares at him for a second. Stiles rolls his eyes—that’s a perfectly valid concern. Or maybe he watches too many police procedurals, whatever. “Okay, fine.”

Stiles holds his breath as he slowly unzips the suitcase, but nothing happens when he lets the top part flop back onto their crappy, threadbare rug. There’s a Dodgers hat on top, and Stiles grimaces. “Well, they have shitty taste in baseball teams.”

He sets the hat carefully aside and keeps digging. The person is neat, whoever they are, because everything is folded, and all the dirty clothes are even all contained in their own zippered bag. At first glance, there’s nothing too out of the ordinary—phone charger, American Gods, Calvin Klein briefs. Fancy, he thinks. There’s a monogrammed leather toiletry bag (DSH, he commits those initials to memory), and he pokes through it.

“I’m gonna make an educated guess that it’s a guy.”

“Why’s that?” Scott says, finally looking somewhat interested in this mystery.

Stiles holds up an electric razor. “And that he’s maybe not totally straight,” he says, brandishing a little bottle of lube that’s about three-quarters full.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Lots of people use lube.”

“Yeah, but do you travel with it?” Stiles counters, and Scott sighs.

“No,” he admits. “Did you find anything with his actual name on it?”

“Not yet,” Stiles says absently. He continues to rifle through the bag until he’s pretty sure he has his plan of attack. “Okay. I’m gonna find out who it is,” he says with a determined nod, and Scott frowns.

“How? This is New York City! There are literally millions of dudes here.”

“It’ll be like a real-life scavenger hunt,” Stiles says dreamily, ignoring Scott as he carefully lays his three chosen items out on the coffee table. “This is awesome.”

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Roommates (M)

Originally posted by bwipsul

╳ Pairing: Jimin x Reader 

╳ Genre: (one shot) smut and kinda fluff & angst ??

╳ Summary: Being roommates with your best friend can be fun until one day you look at him differently. 

(this is something that I found that I had written months ago and just decided to post it!!)


The day you looked at your best friend as more than a friend, you knew you were screwed. It happened out of nowhere. You just woke up one morning and looked at him differently. You were never going to tell anyone, you weren’t stupid. That would just lead to Jimin being freaked out and nothing being the same. Risking your friendship with Jimin was not worth the little crush you had on him.

Deciding that you couldn’t fall back asleep, you got up to start the morning. Walking into the kitchen to get some breakfast, you didn’t notice your best friend standing there.

“Holy shit! Jimin, you scared me!” You yelled, clutching your chest.

“What’s gotten you so jumpy?” Jimin asks, laughing while opening the refrigerator

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... Somehow, Still Talking About This Captain America Shit (Now With Bonus Spider-Man and Agents of SHIELD)

So now Secret Empire has revealed its Shyamalan Twist and given the readers a Good Guy Steve Rogers as well as Hydra Cap, and the kinds of dickbags who, when this whole bullshit began were dismissing people’s complaints with “oh come on, don’t you know how comics works, it’s all going to be put back at the end, blah blah blah…” are crowing I-Told-You-So’s.

But here’s the thing:

Yeah, fucknuts.  We always knew this.

Keep reading

Submitted by @ lord-of-the-dark-realms 

Siblings

So, I had this thought after reading several stories about humans giving birth and not having eggs.  What if aliens do not have ‘family units’ the same way humans do, but instead raise children in more of a group setting.

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

Captain H'roll'ah was excited to have hired on not just 1 but 3 humans, all of whom were extremely qualified for space travel.  Even better, they were all from the same clan and so there would be no rivalry or refusal to work together because of old scores to settle.

“Captain! Three humans just came in a have taken over the dining area! WHAT SHOULD WE DO?!?” Ensign Khralhen was out of breath and panicked, but his species was notoriously afraid of humans after it became public knowledge how dangerous they were.  Not that his own was much better, but H'roll'ah knew that these humans should be here and it was probably near a meal time for them.  How could such an evolutionary advanced and apated species not figure out a way to avoid needing 3 or meals a day was beyond H'roll'ah.

“It is fine, Ensign Khralhen.  These are likely the Humans that I just signed on to the crew.  They are from the same clan, so they should work at peak efficiency,” the Captain answered, trying to put as much calm and soothing into his voice as possible, “Let us go introduce ourselves and welcome them so that the ‘pack-bonding’ can begin.”

~~

“Greetings, I am Captain H'roll'ah and this is Ensign Khralhen, our cook.”

“Nice ta meetcha! Cook, huh? Guess we best buddy up to you right quick then!” said the male.  He was average height for a human and perhaps a little on the heavy side, but H'roll'ah knew that it was likely muscle not fat.  After all, this human and one of his female companions were security personnel.

“Always thinking with you stomach, Thomas.  How about you buddy up to the Captain, so that we do not get kicked off this boat? Hmm?” said the smaller female, later identified as Samantha or “Sam” for ease.  "Small" being used only in comparison because she did not have the bulk of her clanmates.  She must be the medical officer.  H'roll'ah was worried that she would be distant from her clanmates but her body language suggested extreme comfort and trust, above what H'roll'ah felt for his own clanmates of different castes.  The third human, Laura if the captain remembered correctly, remained silent but was constantly looking around, as if expecting an attack at any moment, not that strange considering all that H'roll'ah had hear about Earth.

“Well then, please tell me what times that the three of you eat, and I will prepare food for you then.  Also, please tell me any dietary restrictions you have so that you do not have any medical incidents,” Khralhen said, realizing that the humans could be bribed with food as easily as a Con'valix could be bribed with fruits.

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

(3 Months Later)

Captain H'roll'ah was surprised at how well the humans worked together.  He thought that they might exceed standard human operating efficiency by 10%, but regularly they were 20-25% better than the reported average.  They barely needed to vocalize to communicate, and they were able to remember each other’s needs and the needs of the crew extremely well.  Captain H'roll'ah decided to ask them how they did it, and if it was a clan trait, where he could hire more humans of clan “Walker.”

“Thomas clan Walker, do you have a few minutes to talk about personal matters?” The captain asked, assuming that Thomas would, since he was off shift and relaxing in the lounge.

“Sure thing, hoss.  What can I do for you?  And I hope this isn’t about my or Laura’s tattoo’s, because we had to settle a bet on that a few days ago,” Thomas answered easily.  He was a bit flippant for the captain’s taste, but his results were impeccable and the other humans followed his lead, which spoke volumes for the man.  

“I was hoping that you could explain how you and your clanmates have achieved such a high efficiency rate.  You perform well above average, even for clanmates who grew up together.”

“Clanmates? Oh, that’s right! Sam mentioned that your species, and most species on this ship raise their young in a group setting and the kids hatch from eggs, right?”

“That is correct, and please do not remind me that human females carry their young in their bodies like a parasite.  The last time Sam explained that, it was enough to make all of us wonder how humans have managed to reproduce at all.” H'roll'ah still shuddered when he thought of it, and Khralhen wasn’t able to cook for 3 days after Sam had explained human reproduction.

“Fair enough, I think we reproduce more by accident that anything else, but yeah.  Me, Laura, and Sam are not clanmates like you think,” Thomas chuckled and shook his head, “We are siblings.”

“I do not know this word,” H'roll'ah answered uneasily.  In his experience, an unknown term from a human meant that something painful, gross, horrifying, or all 3 was about to be revealed.

“Sam could explain it better, and having Laura here only seems fair…” Thomas trailed off as he reached for his comm.  "Hey, brats (again with the casual disrespect), can you both get up to the lounge? Captain wants to know about siblings.“ H'roll'ah was always surprised that Thomas clan Walker could be disrespectful when asking for others to do something.

“Sure, be right up,” Sam responded.  She was likely a floor up in the medical facilities and wanted to take a break.

“Grrhhrhhgg.” Laura clan Walker had been sleeping, then, and did not want to come.

“Thanks, ladies, you can both explain family better than me.”  Now the captain was worried again because there was a second new word being bandied around.

~~~

“So, captain, a family unit for humans is very small compared to yours of Ensign Khralhen’s,” Sam explained, “A family is usually made up of the mother and/or father or a surrogate who has assumed that role and the children.  It usually numbers no more than 4-7 individuals.”

“But…But…how do you grow or develop? And to place all that burden on only one or two adults, how do they do anything else?” spluttered K'roll'ah.  He was shocked to find out that humans in the region called ‘America’ did not have an open community.

“Well, children who share 1 or both parents are called “siblings”, and they develop together.  The adults are called “parents”, and yeah, there is a definite loss of freedom involved.“

“So then, you three are…siblings?” H'roll'ah asked.

“Yes, Thomas is the oldest, and Laura is the youngest, with me in the middle,” answered Sam, “and our father bailed on us after Laura was 3 years old, so Tom became the ‘man of the house’ at 7 years old.”

THAT explained Thomas clan Walker’s attitude! Captain H'roll'ah realized that Thomas clan Walker had been in a command position and not had a commander from a young age!

“So that is why you both follow him? He is the new leader”

“Kind of, he is just the best at leading.  He knows what to do and does it well.” Laura answered, which was rare; she was the most quiet of the three.

“And the reason for your peak efficiency?” Captain H'roll'ah asked, determined to get an answer to his question.

“Well, we have known each other all our lives and spent most of those lives in close proximity to each other.  We just understand each other from the long familiarity and exposure.”

“Ah, the same way a pilot becomes better from being on the same ship, just with a person instead.”

“Exactly! And if you are interested in hiring others we are familiar with, we have some cousins, children of our parents’ siblings, who we know very well and want to get into space.”

“Then I will look them up, thank you for answering my questions." 

Humans were a strange species.  Instead of focusing on a large community, they developed close bonds with only a few people who share familial ties with them.  Captain H'roll'ah did hire the 'cousins’ and they worked out very well.  The human guidebook was updated to notify captains that humans sharing close blood ties have the potential to perform at higher than normal efficiency.  

~~

Now somebody write a story about a captain hiring siblings who hate/cannot stand each other!

Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover herself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. They were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about being carried by Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though You still didn’t expect the shake of you head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of you head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that You were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way You expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine.Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to their awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see you face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself.You only knew that when he started talking again You had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

I don’t know how to title

So, this took me way longer than I thought. Oops. This is a prompt fic for @stephaniebithell 

I hope you like it. I’ve never actually written Voltron before. Or any kind of battle. So, go easy on me.


“WATCH OUT!” Keith’s voice cried out through the Blue Lion’s speakers. Checking his screens, Lance had to pull hard to the left, just barely missing the laser coming at him. The laser would have smashed into the cockpit if he hadn’t moved, and Lance let out a small huff of breath, relieved.

“That was a close call, Lance.” Shiro berated gently, “You need to be more careful, alright?”

Lance nodded before cracking a smile. “Come on, Shiro! Careful is my middle name!”

Hunk cut in, confusion evident in his voice, “I thought your middle name was Alejandro?”

Laughter echoed over the coms, and Lance pouted, whining, “Hunk, buddy! Who’s side are you on, man?”

Dodging another laser, Hunk replied, “The one where all of us get out of this alive? Does that count?” He dodged a few more lasers, firing a few shots of his own, panting slightly.

“Hunk’s got a point, guys,” Shiro reminded them. “Can the chatter, those lasers are still coming.” There was acknowledgement from all the other paladins, and Shiro sighed in relief. “Alright, here’s the plan. Lance, Hunk, you guys hang further back, try to pick them off from a distance. Stop anything that gets past us. Keith, Pidge, your lions are faster and smaller, I need you covering me. Take out the little guys. Black and I will target those turrets. Understood?” Confirmation came from the others, and everyone moved into position.

Everything went well for several minutes. Shiro had knocked out all but two of the turrets, and Lance and Hunk’s teamwork had destroyed at least a dozen big cruisers and battleships. Some of the larger ships had started to retreat, and Lance and Hunk targeted those as well. As one was coming up on Lance’s left, he saw Green, down and to his far right, with a small ion cannon pointed right at its flank. Making a split-second decision, Lance turned his lion and fired, taking out the ion cannon and saving Pidge. He started to turn back to his original position, but he was too late. Before he could react, a laser cut straight through his hull, sending poor Blue tumbling. Lance was strapped in, so he stayed in place, but as the others’ yells came over the com, a piece of debris slammed into the back of his head, and everything went black.


When Lance came to, the battle was over. Black was towing Blue down to the planet’s surface, where the castle and the planet’s inhabitants were waiting. As he came back to his senses, Lance began to hear the others.

“Lance! Kiddo, can you hear me?”

“Lance, buddy! Come on, tuagane, wake up, man!”

“Lance, you big doofus! Wake up!” (“Pidge!” “Sorry.”)

“LANCE! Lance, please! Dammit, Lance! Wake up! Talk to me!”

Finally, finally, Lance could move a little. “Ugh…. Keith?”

To Lance’s aching head, it was as though a full orchestra had exploded onto the coms.

“Alright, Lance! You’re okay!”

“You asshole! Don’t do that to me ever again, you hear me?!” (“Pidge! Language!”)

Hunk was now blubbering incoherently, Pidge was raging, and Keith was strangely silent. Just as the noise was getting to be too much, Shiro’s voice cut through the mayhem, muffling everything else like a blanket, “Lance. Are you okay? Can you answer me? You were out for a while, buddy. I need to know if you’re okay.”

Lance took several deep breaths, settling the nausea his headache was causing, before answering softly, “I-. I think I’m okay, guys. I have a killer headache, and I’m a little nauseous and light-headed, but I’m okay. Might have a concussion, though.” With that, most of his energy spent, he slumped back into his seat.

“Okay, Lance,” Shiro breathed. “Do you think you can stay awake for me for a few minutes? We’re almost back to the castle. I’m sure you’re really tired, but if you can put off sleeping for just a couple of minutes, I want Coran to check you over in person. They’ve already got a pod waiting and everything. Can you do that, kiddo?” Lance murmured an assent, and Shiro let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Alright, buddy. Thank you.”

Shiro looked at his monitors. The landing was coming up. “Alright, buddy, we’re right there. I’m going to put you down now, in 3 – 2 – 1.” With that, the blue lion was placed very gently on the ground next to the other three lions, which had already landed. Once Blue’s jaw opened, Hunk and Coran rushed inside, while Shiro landed Black. By the time Shiro had left the cockpit, Lance was out of his lion, and Allura was talking to the natives, Keith beside her.

Shiro went to Lance first. Looking Lance over, he glanced to Coran. “Coran, how is he? He was out for at least fifteen minutes.”

Coran smiled gently. “He’ll be just fine, number one. A few vargas in a pod and he’ll be good as new.”

“Thank you, Coran. Hunk, will you help him?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” With a small smile, Hunk pulled one of Lance’s arms over his shoulder and started moving towards the castle. Coran followed.

Now that he knew Lance was safe, Shiro could deal with the natives. Or, more accurately, deal with Keith, who looked to be one wrong word away from pulling out his bayard. As Shiro came closer to the group, he started to hear some of the conversation.

“-yes, you’ve said that the boy’s role is to be the blue paladin, but what else does he even do? What does he contribute? From what I saw, all he did was hang back for most of the fight, and make jokes for the rest of it!” Ah. Now he was starting to understand Keith’s murderous expression. Not to mention the low, continuous growl coming from Blue.

Allura cut him off. “It is not your place to question not just my choice of paladins, but the choices of the lions themselves. The blue lion chose Lance, and as such-“

“Princess Allura, I meant no disrespect, to you or the lions. I was simply concerned. Voltron is the universe’s only real hope of stopping the Galran Empire, and if its members are not efficient, perhaps-“

Shiro cut in, mouth a hard line, shoulders tense, as he stopped Keith from doing anything rash. “If you know about the joking, then you were listening to the coms. If you were paying attention, you would have noticed that I gave the order for the blue and yellow lions to hang back. Those two lions are larger, and therefore slower, but their weapons are strong. In this situation, they were much better suited for stopping the larger ships, and picking off stragglers. Lance especially works best at a distance. He’s the best shooter we have. Long-distance is his forte. Those assignments were the most efficient use of our resources.” The native was about to interrupt again, and Shiro bit out “On top of all of that, Lance was injured defending your planet. You would do well to remember that, and to show him the respect he deserves.”

When he was done, Shiro turned to Keith. Keith was still seething. “Shiro, did you hear what he was saying about Lance?”

“I heard him, Keith.”

“Lance could have died, Shiro! And that guy was treating him like a waste of space. Space garbage!”

“I know that, Keith.” Shiro’s voice was strained. He was angry, too, but there was nothing they could do.

“I’m gonna go back over there and teach that guy a lesson-“ Keith started to turn back around, bayard in hand, but was spun around by Shiro’s hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t attack the guy, Keith. He’s a diplomat. Let Allura handle it.”

“Can’t I just punch him in the face?” Keith pleaded.

“NO, Keith.”

“What if I just break his nose a little?”

“I said, NO, Keith.” Shiro spun to face him. “We can’t do anything. Allura can handle it. Now let’s go back to the castle. Lance will be healed in a few hours. I saw how anxious you were. I know you want to see him. And when he wakes up, I’m sure he’ll want to see you, too.” With that, Keith relaxed, sighing in defeat, and went on to the castle.

Shiro stood there for a moment, composing himself, before moving in the same direction. Before he got there, he heard one last parting shot. “You know,” the native drawled, excessively loud, “if the so-called blue paladin were a better pilot, he wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place-“

CRUNCH. Before anyone could move, Shiro snapped. He had rushed back, pulled back a fist, and slammed it straight into the obnoxious native’s nose. Without a word, Shiro wiped the blood off his hand onto the man’s shirt, and walked straight back into the castle. The look on that jerk’s face was definitely worth the difficulty Allura had negotiating an alliance several days later, and when Lance woke up, his laughter over the story gave Keith the brightest smile Shiro had seen on his face in years.


If you guys want me to write what happened in between when Lance was unconscious, let me know.

psychic: reads my mind
me: hi, you’re on a rock floating in space. pretty cool, huh? some of it’s water. fuck it. actually, most of it’s water. i can’t even get from here to there without buying a boat. it’s sad. i’m sad. i miss you.
HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
a long time ago… actually, never. and also now. nothing is nowhere. when? never. makes sense, right? like i said, it didn’t happen. nothing was never anywhere. that’s why it’s been everywhere. it’s been so “everywhere,” you don’t need a “where.” you don’t even need a “when.” that’s how “every” it gets.
forget this. i wanna be something. go somewhere. do something. i want things to change. i want to invent time and space. and i know it’s possible because everything is here, and it probably already happened. i just don’t know when to start.
and that’s exactly where it started.
big bang— pause
woah. i paused it. i think there’s a universe now. what’s it made of? quarks and stuff. ah, that’s a thing! in a place! don’t like it? try a new place, at a different Time™. try to stick together, because the world is gonna get bigger and emptier. but it’s not empty yet! it’s still very full, and about a kjghpillion degrees.
about no seconds later
great news! the quarks are now happily married in groups of three, called a “proton” and a “neutron.” and there’s something else flying around that wants to join in, but can’t cause it’s too HOT.
ten minutes later
great news! the protons and neutrons are now happily married to each other! some of them even doubled up.
about 380,000 years later
great news! the electrons have now joined in. congratulations! the world is now… a bunch of gas in space. but it’s getting closer together…
ten million years later
and it’s getting closer together…
500 million years later
and it’s getting closer togeth—
star is born
it’s a star
new shit just got made!
some stars burn out and die. bigger stars burn out and die with passion! and make some brand new way crazier shit.
space dust!
which allows for newer and more interesting stars to be made, and then die and explode into even crazier space dust!
so now, stars have cool stuff around them, like rocks, ice, and funny clouds, which can make some very interesting things. like this ball of flaming rocks, for example.
meteor hits earth
holy shit, we just got hit by another ball of flaming rocks. and it kind of… made a mess. which is now the moon
weather update: it’s raining rocks from outer space.
weather update: those rocks might’ve had water inside of them and now there’s hot steam in the sky.
weather update: cooler temperatures today and the floor is no longer lava.
weather update… it’s raining.
severe flooding alert, the entire world is now an ocean.
volcano alert.
that’s land!
there'slifeintheocean
what?
something’s alive in the ocean
oh, cool. like a plant, or an animal? no! a microscopic speck. it lives in the bottom of the ocean and eats chemical soup, which is being served hot and fresh, made from gnarly space ingredients left over from when it was raining rocks or whatever.
microscopic speck asexually reproduces
oh yeah, and it can do that.
reproduces three more times
it has secret instructions written inside itself telling it how to build another one of itself. so that’s pretty nifty, i would say.
tired of living at the bottom of the ocean?
now you can eat sunlight!
using a revolutionary technique, you can convert sunlight into food.
taste the sun!
side effect, now there’s oxygen everywhere and the sky is blue.
then the earth might’ve been a snowball for a while. maybe even a couple of times.
it’s a sponge… it’s a plant… it’s a worm, and some other types of weird strange water bugs and strange fish.
it’s the Cambrian explosion: “wow, that’s animals and stuff”
but we’re still in the ocean. hey, can we go on land?
NO
why?
the sun is a deadly laser
oh okay.
not anymore, there’s a blanket
now the animals can go on land. come on, animals, let’s go on land!
“nope, can’t walk yet.”
“and there’s no food yet, so i don’t care.”
100 million years later
okay, will you learn to walk if there’s plants up here?
“maybe,” said some bugs. and fish.
fish gasps for air
five million years later
okay, so i can go on land, but i have to go back in the water to have babies!
idea: learn to use an egg.
“i was already doing that”
use a stronger egg. put water in it. have a baby, on land, in an egg. water is in the egg. baby, in the egg, in the water, in the egg.
works for me. bye bye ocean
50 million years later
and now everything’s huge. including bugs.
wanna see a map of the land? sure.
Permian extinction
oh, fuck, now everything’s dead.
just kidding, here are the survivors. keep your eye on this one, because it’s about to become
75 million years later
the dinosaurs.
here’s another map of the land. yeah, it broke apart. don’t worry about it, it does that all the time. here comes a meteor.
meteor strikes
and the dinosaurs are gone
it’s mammal time, here come the mammals. look at those breasts.
now they’re gonna dominate the world, but one of them just learned how to grab stuff. and walk. no, like, walk like that. and grab stuff at the same time. and bang rocks together to make pointed rocks.
“ouch”
and set things on fire.
“yeouch”
and make crazy sounds with their voice:
“gneurshk”
which can mean different things.
that’s a human person!
and now they’re everywhere. almost.
ice age!
what? you can walk over here? cool.
not anymore
well i guess we’re stuck here now.
let’s review: there’s people on the planet. and they’re chasing their food.
fuck it. time to plant some grass.
look at this. i get to control the food now. now everyone will want to be my friend and live near me. let’s all build houses, except mine is bigger because i own the food.
this is great! i wonder if anyone else is doing this.
tired of using rocks for everything? use metal. it’s underground.
better farming was just invented in a sweet dank valley right in between these two rivers, and the animals are helping.
guess what happens next?
more food. and more people, who came to buy the food. now you need people to help make the food and keep track of the sales. and now you need houses for people to live in and people to make the houses and now there’s more people and they invent things which makes things better and more people come and there’s more farming and more people to make more things for more people and now there’s business, money, writing, laws, power,
Society
coming soon to a dank river valley near you.
meanwhile, out in the middle of nowhere, the horse is probably being tamed.
why is all my metal so lame and lumpy?
tired of using lame, sad metal? introducing: bronze. made from special ingredient tin from the far lands of Tin Land. i dunno, my dealer won’t tell me where he gets it. also, guess what?
egypt
meanwhile, out in the middle of nowhere, they figured out how to put wheels on a horse. now we’re getting somewhere. also,
china
and did i mention
indus river valley civilization
society count: 5

norte chico
the middle east is getting more complicated. maybe because it’s in the middle of the east.
knock knock, er, clop clop. it’s the… people with the horses? and they made an empire. and then everyone else copied their horses.
greeks!
ah look, it must be the greeks! er, a beta version of the greeks.
let’s check in with the indus river valley civilization: they’re gone. guess who’s not gone? china.
new arrivals from india… maybe it’s those horse people i was talking about… or their cousins or something…
and they wrote some hymns and mantras and stuff…
you could make a religion out of this.
there’s the bronze age collapse.
now the phoenicians can get down to business
also, can we switch to a metal that’s a little easier to find? thanks.
look who came back to israel, it’s the twelve tribes of israel.
and they believe in God
just one though, and he’s got like a ten-step program.
here’s some huge heads. must be the olmecs.
the phoenicians make some colonies. the greeks copy their idea and make some colonies. the phoenicians made a colony so big it makes colonies.
here comes the assyrian empire. never mind, it’s the babyloni— media—
it’s the Persian Empire: “wow, that’s big”
enlightenment
ah, the buddha was just enlightened. who’s the buddha? this guy, who sat under a tree for so long that he figured out how to ignore the fact that we’re all dying. you could make a religion out of this.
oops, china just broke. but while it was breaking, confucius was figuring out how to have good morals.
enlightenment
ah, the greeks just had the idea of thinking about stuff.
and right over here, alexander just had the idea of conquering the entire persian empire. it’s a great idea. he was… great. and now he’s dead. hopefully, the rest of the gang will be able to share the empire evenly between them.
knock knock, it’s chandragupta. he says “get the hell out of here. will you get the hell out of here if i give you 500 elephants? okay, thanks, bye”
time to conquer all of india
er
most of india
but what about this part? that’s the tamil kings. no one conquers the tamil kings. who are the tamil kings? merchants, probably. and they’ve gotspices!
who would like to buy the spices? “me!” said the arabians, swiftly buying it and selling it to the rest of the world.
hey, china put itself back together again, with good morals as their main philosophy. actually, they have three main philosophies:
confucianism: have good morals
taoism: go with the flow
legalism: fuck you, obey the law
out here, the horse nomads run wild and free, and they would like to ransack your city.
nomads ransack china
let’s check the greekification levels of the greekified kingdoms: greekification overload.bye, said the parthians. bye, said the jews. hi, said the parthians, taking over the entire place.
heyyyyy, said the romans, eating the entire mediterranean for breakfast. “thanks for invading our homeland,” said the jews, who were starting to get tired of people invading their homeland.
“hi, everything’s great,” said some guy who seems to be getting very popular and is then arrested and killed for being too popular, which actually makes him more popular. you could make a religion out of this.
want silk? now you can buy it from china. they just made a brand new road to the world.
conquers vietnam
or you can get there on water
“sick! new trade routes!” said india, accidentally spreading their religion to the entire southeast.
hmm, that’s a good place for an epic trading kingdom.
there goes buddhism, travelling up the silk road. i wonder if it’ll reach china before it collapses again.
remember the persian empire? yep, said the persians, making a new one.
axum is getting so powerful, they would like to build a long stick.
has anyone populated madagascar yet? let’s do it together.
china is whole again…
…then it broke again
still can’t cross the sahara desert? try camels.
“hell yeah! now we’ve got business,” said the ghana empire, selling lots of gold. and slaves.
“hi, i’m a member of the roman empire, and i was wondering
is loving jesus legal yet?”
“no”
“actually, okay sure,” said constantine, moving the capital way over here to be closer to his main rival. don’t worry about rome, it won’t fall.
it’s the golden age of india
there’s the gupta empire, not chandragupta, just gupta. first name chandra. the first.
guess who’s in rome? barbarians. what’s a barbarian? “non-romans,” said the romans, being invaded by non-romans. r.i.p. roman empire. actually just half of it, the other half is just fine, but it’s not in rome anymore, so let’s give it a new name.
the mayans have figured out the stars
oh, and here’s a huge city, population: everyone.
the göktürks have taken over the entire eurasian steppe. great job, göktürks.
how’s india? broken. how’s china? back together.
how’s those trading kingdoms? bigger, and there’s more of them.
korea has three kingdoms. japan has a kingdom, it’s the sunrise kingdom.
intermission
deep in the arabian desert, on the top of a mountain, the real god whispers in muhammad’s ear. so, he goes down to the cube where everyone worships gods and he tells them their gods are all fake. and everyone got so mad at him that he had to leave town and go to a different town. you could make a religion out of this, and maybe conquer the world as well.
the roman empire is long gone, but somehow the pope is still the pope. plus, there’s new kingdoms all over europe. i wonder if there’s room for moors.
here’s all the wisdom. in a house. it’s the baghdad house of wisdom! just in time for the islamic golden age!
“let’s bring stuff to the coast and sell it, and become the swahili on the swahili coast,” said the swahili on the swahili coast.
remember this tiny space you have to go through to get from here to there? someone owns that now.
wanna get enlightened in the middle of nowhere?
the franks have the biggest kingdom in europe, and the pope is so proud that he invites the king over for christmas. “surprise! you’re the new roman emporer!” said the pope, pretending to still be part of the roman empire. then the franks broke their kingdom into what will later be called france and not-france.
the northerners, er, just “norse” if you don’t have much time, are exploring. they go north, from the north to the northern north. and they find some land— two types of land!— and they name them accordingly.
prankd
they also invade some other places and get called many names, such as “vikings.”
there’s the rus! the kievan rus! are they vikings? “i don’t think so,” said the kievan rus. okay, fair enough.
the pope is ready to make some more emperors of the roman empire. the holy roman empire! it’s actually germany, but don’t worry about it. new kingdoms—
CRISTIANIZE ALL THE KINGDOMS!!
which brand would you like?
“mine’s better”
“mine’s better”
“mine’s better”
“time to conquer england,” said william.
it’s a bird! it’s a plane! it’s the seljuk turks!
“aah!” said the byzantine empire, who’s getting so small and almost doesn’t exist anymore. “we need help!” they need help! so they call the pope.
“hey pope, can you help us get rid of the seljuks? maybe take back the holy land on the way? come on, i know you want to take back the holy land.”
“yes, i do actually want to do that. let’s do a crusade.”
crusade!
they did many crusades. some of which almost didn’t fail. but at least the italians got some sweet trade deals.
goodbye mayans. hello toltecs! goodbye toltecs. hello mississippi! look at those mounds.
there’s the pueblo. i always wondered how to build a town in a cliff.
guess who’s here? khmer. where? here! and pagan is there. vietnam unconquered itself, korea just became itself, and japan is so addicted to art that the military might have to take over the government.
china just invented bombs, and typing. and the mongols just invaded most of the universe. nice going, genghis! i bet that will last a long time.
some of the islamic turks were unaffected by the mongol invasions because they were busy invading india.
is it tonga time? i think it’s tonga time.
i just figured out where the swahili gets all of their gold.
look at this chad! it means “lake.” there’s an empire there! right in the middle of africa!
the king of mali is so rich, he’s going on tour to let everyone know. “wow, that guy’s rich,” everyone said.
the christians are doing a great job reconquering iberia, which will soon be called spain and not-spain. please remain christian. we will check in later to see if you’re still christian when you least expect.
whoops, half of europe just died.
ming! china’s back, yay!
hey, khmer. time to share. new kingdoms, here and there.
oh, look who controls all of the islands. it’s the mahajapit.
majahapit.
mapajahit.
mahapajit.
mapajahit.
ma-ja-pa-hit?
oh, italy’s real rich. time for them to care a lot about art and the ancient classics. it’s kinda like a rebirth.
here’s a printer. let’s make books!
so you think you can conquer the byzantine empire? yep, said the ottoman turks. nice job, ottoman turks. oops, you missed a spot. don’t forget to ban europe from the indian spice trade.
“what? that’s bullshit,” said portugal, spiceless.
“well i guess we’ll have to find another way to india”
“wait!” said christopher columbus, probably smoking crack. “if the world is round, let’s go this way to india.”
“nah, don’t worry, we already got this,” said portugal.
so chris goes to spain. “hey spain, wanna hire me to find india by going around back of the world?”
“no”
“please?”
“no”
“please?”
“wtf”
“no”
“please?”
“…okay”
so he sails into the ocean, and discovers… more ocean. and then discovers the indies, and japan! let’s draw a line to decide who gets which half of the world.
the aztec and the inca empires are off to a great start. i wonder if they know that europe just discovered their continent.
the hapsburgs are marrying into so many royal families, they might have to start marrying each other.
move over, lithuania, here comes moscow. ivan wants to make russia great again.
move over, timurids, maybe go invade india or something. persia just made persia persian again.
let’s make it the other kind of islam. the one where we thought the first guy should’ve been the other guy.
hey, christians! do you sin? now you can buy your way out of hell!
“that’s bullshit. this whole thing is bullshit. that’s a scam. fuck the church. here’s 95 reasons why,” said martin luther, in his new book which might have accidentally started the protestant reformation.
“you know what would be magnificent?” said suleiman wearing an onion hat. “what if the ottoman empire was… really big?” which it is now.
“what if russia was big?” said ivan, trying not to be terrible.
portugal had a dream that they controlled the entire indian ocean, including the spice trade. and then that dream was real.
and spain realized that this is not india, but they pillaged it anyway. “damn,” said england and france. “we gotta start pillaging some stuff.” then the dutch revolt, and all the hipsters moved to amsterdam. “damn,” said amsterdam. “we gotta start pillaging some stuff.”
question one: can you get to india from north america? no, but at least there’s beaver.
question two: steal the spice trade. that’s not a question, but the dutch did it anyway.
and sugar… guess where all of the sugar is made? in brazil! stolen! in the caribbean! and it’s so goddamn profitable, you might forget to not do slavery.
the next thing on russia’s to-do list is to get bigger.
britain and france are having a friendly discussion about who should control the entire world. more specifically, ohio. then it escalates into a seven-year discussion, giving prussia a chance to show austria who’s boss. but what about britain and france, did they figure out who’s boss? yes they did! it’s britain.
guess who’s broke? also britain! so they start taxing the hell out of america. “fuck you!” says america, declaring their independence and fighting for it, and france helps them win. now france is broke, and britain will have to send their prisoners to a different continent.
wait, if france is broke, why do the king and queen still wear such fancy dresses?
“let’s overthrow the palace and cut all their heads off!” said robespierre, cutting everybody’s heads off until someone eventually got mad and cut his head off.
you could make a rel— no, don’t.
haiti is starting to like the idea of a revolution, especially the slaves, who free themselves by killing their masters. “why didn’t we think of this before?”
wait, who’s in charge of france now? “me,” said napoleon, trying to take over europe. luckily, they banished him to an island. but he came back!luckily, they banished him to another island.
there goes latin america, becoming independent in the latin american wars of independence.
britain just figured out how to turn steam into power, so now they can make many different types of machines and factories with machines in them so they can make a lot of products real fast. then they invent some trains. and conquer india and maybe put some trains there.
“hey, china!” said britain. “buy stuff from us!” “nah, dude, we already got everything,” says china. so britain tried to get them addicted to opium, which worked, actually. but then china made it illegal and dumped it all into the sea. so britain threw a hissy fit and made them open up five cities and give them an island.
britain and russia are playing a game where they try to stop the other person from conquering afghanistan.
also, the sultan of oman lives in zanzibar now:“that’s just where he lives.”
india just had a revolution, and they would like to govern themselves now. “nope,” said britain, governing them even harder than before.
incoming telegram: HI I JUST SENT YOU A MESSAGE THRU A WIRE
technology is about to go crazy!
the united states finally figured out whether slavery is good or bad. it’s bad, they decided, and then they continued manifesting their destiny, which is to kill the rest of the natives and take their land and maybe kick out the mexicans too.
“i know! let’s rape africa!” said europe, scrambling to see who could rape it the fastest. they never got ethiopia…
britain and france are still hungry. they never got thailand…
the united states ran out of destiny to manifest, so they’re looking for more:
hawaii!
cuba!
wait, spain controls cuba.
well, blame something on them and go to war! what should we blame on spain?
u.s.s. maine sinks
“let’s blame the maine on spain.”
so they blame the maine on spain.
now we’re in business.
to celebrate, they kick panama out of panama and make a canal, connecting the two oceans.
britain just found oil in the middle east. it makes cars go…
china is so tired of being bossed around that they delete their old government and make a new, stronger government, which is accidentally weaker and is controlled by a guy from the previous government.
europe hasn’t had a war since the last war, so they start world war one. look at those guns! it’s gonna be a great war, so great we won’t need a second one. after it’s over, they blame germany.
russia went on strike, and the workers overthrew the government. now, everyone’s paycheck is the same. communism in the soviet union…
the arabs revolt and britain helps. now the ottoman empire is gone, so we can give the jewish people a place to live. hopefully the arabs won’t mind.
“let’s cut the cake!” said sykes and picot, carving up the remains of the not-so-ottoman-anymore-empire.
except turkey! turkey makes a brand new turkey!
and then the saudis conquer arabia. it just seemed like the right thing to do.
phone rings
hello? yes, it’s the 1920’s calling. let’s get to a car and drive to a party and listen to jazz on the radio and go to the movies. the economy is great and it will probably be great forever. just kidding.
germany’s back, featuring hitler, the angry mustache model, and he’s mad at the jews for existing.
japan is finally conquering the east, and they’re so excited, they rape nanking way too hard. they should probably just deny it.
hitler’s out of control, so the international community tackles him and tries to explain to him why killing all of the jews is a bad idea. but he kills himself because they could explain it to him. that’s world war two!
bonus round! pacific showdown
united states vs. japan
FIGHT!!
united states drops two extinction balls on japan
FINISH HIM!
let’s unite all the nations and have some world peace! seems legit.
“hi, im gandhi, and if britain doesn’t get the hell out of india, i’m going to starve myself in public.”
britain leaves
“wow, that worked?”
bonus! now there’s pakistan. actually two pakistans, one of them can be bangladesh later.
the jews and the arabs finally figured out which one of them should live in the holy land. “me!” they both said at the same time. let’s divide up the lands so we’re both happy. SIKE! they both get angrier!
look out, china! there’s a new china in china. what’s on the menu? communism! no thanks, said the other china, escaping to an island. i wonder which one is the real china…?
there’s the korean war. korea versus korea! nobody wins, then its on pause forever.
let’s meet the sponsors. oh, it’s the two global superpowers. they’re having a friendly debate over which economic system is good and which one is an evil virus of satan. and they both have atom bombs. FIGHT!! wait, no, that would be the end of the world. let’s just keep it cool and spy on each other instead. and make sure we have enough atom bombs.
“i’ll race you to space.”
united states plants a flag on the moon
now let’s make more countries fight themselves.
europe is tired of pillaging other continents, and the continents they were pillaging are tired of being pillaged. so here’s a new map with new countries. now you can’t tell who they’re being pillaged by.
the united states finally decided whether racism is good or bad. they decided it’s bad, and the world agrees. south africa might need another minute to think about it.
let’s check the world population!
woah. okay.
technology is better too, that might keep happening.
the soviet union decides to relax a little, and accidentally falls apart.
europe makes a union, so now they can all use the same money. except britain, because they don’t feel like it.
let’s check the mail… surprise! it’s on the computer!
whoops, someone just attacked america. i bet they’ll remember that.
phone call! surprise! it’s in your pocket! wanna learn everything? surprise! it’s on the computer! now your phone’s a computer, which is in your pocket!
whoops, the economy just crashed. don’t worry, the big banks won’t fail, because they’re not supposed to.
surprise!… flying robots. with bombs.
wanna print a brain?
some people have no friends. some people have no food. the globe is warming, and the ocean is full of plastic!
“let’s save the planet!” said everybody, not knowing how.
“let’s invent a thing inventor,” said the thing inventor inventor after being invented by a thing inventor. that’s pretty cool.
by the way, where the hell are we?
thanks for watching history
i hope i mentioned everything
psychic: what the fuck

heartbreak chronicles {2} | M

PT 1 | PT 2 ONGOING

Contains: smut, sexting {fuckboy!jimin}

Words: 5,764

Summary: Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well.

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A/N: Can you believe that I managed to come up with a quick update? Me neither.

Monotone, drowning in tedium — that was how your first Monday class begun. Somewhere deep inside your mind, you could hear your teacher going on about an empty subject, filling the air inside the classroom with disconex sentences and incomprehensible claims; your own perception far beyond the yellowed walls of that room. Perhaps, sitting on the last row was not helping your lack of focus; but, much to your personal bliss, Jennie was right next to you, taking the notes you would make sure to use later.

In all honesty, your mind was in the same location as before: the party. Equivalent to what unfolded during the weekend, the story repeated itself amidst your tired daydreams; dragging your consciousness towards the bubbling, divergent feelings inside your chest. Unlike what you first expected, the anguish and guilt of your acts did not last longer than the ride back to your dorm, instead morphing into a sense of curiosity. After all, there were so many details that you waited to be presented with — the second step, the collateral damage it would have on your friendship and, more than anything, Jimin’s reaction.

You just did not expect it would come that instant.

The cloudy preoccupations of your chaotic thoughts dissipated as a light buzz sounded below you, your phone lighting up with a new notification. With a frown, you stared down at the illuminated screen, eyes falling to the white text.

The second you read it, your heart skipped a beat.

[10:22] Jimin: we need to talk

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