#I can finally say the name of this fanfic

[10yo-anon]

☆ DARK RED. ☆

Frat!Satoru Gojo x F!reader

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

⚠️: ooc!satoru (sorry), not proofread cuz @*the-parasites-control-me seemed busy and i don wanna bother😔, one use of y/n 💔, grammatical errors! I suck ass!!, angsty angsty

WC: 1,258.

A/N: just a 30 minute drabble(?)/fic(?) Cause I absolutely LOVE steve lacy's songs. And his music. So, why not make a fanfic heavily inspired to one of his classic songs I ADORE. Big shoutout to ahem, "dark red 1 hour" cause thats what ive been listening till i finished writing !!, Happy reading, teehee!

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

You lean into the mirror as you apply your pink lipstick on your smiling lips. How could you not smile after Satoru finally agreed on spending time to go to a small date with you?

You were always shocked satoru, godforbid one of the most known frat guy in the campus, gave you, a basic student smitten with him from the start, a chance to go out with him. on how you're actually in a relationship with him.

But a small, annoying, little devil on your left shoulder would always ask you, "are you sure you're in a relationship with him? Does he even see you in a relationship with him? Introduce you to others as his 'girlfriend' ?"

Sure..with his well-earned name as a frat guy along with being in their sorority was..uncomfortable to say the least, he promised his eyes were only looking at you! That he'd never go to any party without your knowledge!

"He already has broken those promises." The imaginary devil sighs out your name. "..Past is past.. no?" You reply silently.

Past.. is every month considered long enough to be called "past"? 'Past' where Satoru could barely drag himself in his (and your's) apartment in the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol and a strong scent of another woman's perfume, neck covered with lipstick marks, love bites, and hickeys, polo lazily and wrongly buttoned. Calling out your name. And when you would rush to him, eyes wide with concern. He would drop down to his knees, clinging to your waist and apologizing with crocodile tears, begging you to not leave him, "Satoru..I don't think I can handle this anymo—" "Please, Baby!..don't you give me up.. please don't give up..on us.!" pleading that he would chance his antics for you, "Then tell me. what are those marks on your neck?" "Its nothing! Believe me honey, I belong with you only..and only you, baby.." as long as you give him one more chance.

One. More. Chance. A broken record he keeps repeating. And you would fall for it. Every time. "Cant you see he's genuinely sorry? You're a monster if you leave him!" The angel in your right shoulder would always shout, its only sad you agree with it. You didnt have any choice but to drag him to bed, whispering sweet reassurance in his ear until he falls asleep, bound to forget the whole conversation, possibly the whole night when he wakes up. While you silently cry yourself to sleep. Heart breaking and aching, only his false words keeping it from disintegrating. "Only you, darling...only you.." "I know, 'Toru." You could only force yourself to stop crying and act like nothing was wrong, dread already in you as you simply wait and ready yourself the next time this will happen again.

But no, you can't possibly leave him, of course you couldnt! You love him! You shake your head and push your thought away, its the future you have to focus on, and the future is your said date, remember!

Your eyes dsrt to the small clock on your table. 6:00 PM. pulling away from the mirror, you admire yourself one last time before going to that expensive restaurant you had reserved using satoru's black card. A simple dress in your favorite color, slight makeup adorning your face. Its good enough for you.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

It's been what? One— no, two hours since you sat on your reserved seat. Alone. Where was Satoru?

You've noticed the servers giving you looks, some even audibly whispering pity about you, so you take your phone out to ignore them.

Your senses, or that little devil on your shoulder, whispers to you: "somethings bad about to happen to you." Once more, you continue ignoring them. All the voices, the looks. Everything you can ignore. You text Satoru again, only for your texts to be seen. You don't know why, but you feel it coming.

As you shut your phone off, you feel it vibrate, once, twice, three times! It must be your boyfriend!

With a hopeful smile, you quickly open the hidden messages, only to find out it's Geto, satoru's best friend. Your smile slightly drops.

Another wave of dread washes over you as you read his messages.

G-S: *Video attachment.*

G-S: *Location attachment.*

G-S: im sorry, y/n.

Now, your oh-so hopeful smile completely drops. You were afraid to watch the video. But unfortunately, you did.

It was Satoru, sitting on the couch manspread. With one of the most popular girls in another sorority, face caked with make-up, a skimpy skirt and a tube top, on his lap, giggling while she plants hickeys on his neck, all while he plants his hands on her hips and encourages her more, even whispering on her ear to hump him. shamelessly. Laughing when they mention you and responding by rolling his eyes with a smug grin.

You dont realize you tears endlessly flowing, ruining your eyeliner and foundation horribly, not until a waitress runs up to you, genuinely asking if you were okay.

You turn your phone off as soon as you caught you consciousness. You look around, and to your surprise almost everyone was silently looking at you, some giggling, some judging, some concerned. With your head spinning, you hiccup out an apology before dashing out the restaurant, already calling for your best friend to pick you up.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

Waking up from his drunk slumber, Satoru sits up, quickly noticing he was in a different room with a different girl. 3:36AM. "Ah..shit." He silently panics, remembering you were back at his apartment, possibly waiting for him. As he scrambles out the bed, the girl he doesn't even remember its name was clings onto him. "Mmh..Satoru!~.. W-where r' ya..g..goin..!" "Huh—..sorry..gotta go back to my own apartment.." he rushes to escape her grasp, swiftly slipping on his clothes and attempting to straighten it out. "Hmph! You're going back to your nobody girlfriend again, ar'nt ya.." she whines, pouting her lips out. "Just break up with her already..stay with me..atleast I can pleasure you.." visibly disgusted with her words, Satoru takes his phone before going out the door. "Baby..this is just a one night stand, dont forget."

He opens his phone,

5 messages from "my only one.♡".

His eyes wide with surprise as he opens the notification, only to be greeted with more than 5 messages. Shit. He must have left his phone open while he was.. he'd rather not think of that.

You're messages was from asking about the date to pleading for him to appear, in a span of two hours. He completely forgot about the date.

Before guilt comes to him, he shakes his head. He only had to put on tears and beg for forgiveness, and you would take him back again. It was alright. He was okay.

With a cheeky smile, he walks over to his motorcycle, his mind already planning out his words for forgiveness. Easy.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

"Baby?..where are you.." He tries to make his voice as weak as he can as he "stumbles" in his and your's apartment. Calling out your name again, disappointment meets him as there was no answer. Only your pitch-black living room.

he walks over to the kitchen, no answer. to the bathrooms, no answer. the balcony, no answer. and finally the master bedroom, no answer. only a dim lamp, and your messy, barely opened cabinet answered him. god did his heart race. maybe finished 5 whole laps too.

Thoughts run to his mind. From "did she finally leave you?" To "how dare she leave you, who does she think she is?" But his thoughts were answered as he checked the open closet. Barely any of your clothes were there, and the few remaining were either his shirts or the clothes he gave you. It was scattered as if you rushed to pack your things.

Oh.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

A/N: 2/7 verses done! Can you find the hidden lyrics? :3 n e ways, Part 2? Let me know! But uh.. tommorow will be our school's honor rolls, and I'm 100% sure i won't have honors. For the first time. In my life. Aghh! I saw my brother once when he also didnt get honors in 3rd quarter last year in g7.. he was beaten, grounded, and he said bye to every gadget he had for a month. Soo..uh. I'll be offline for a while! :3 wish me luck !!

#Spotify #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #x reader #jjk #fanfiction #☆— 【 fanfiction !! 】 #☆— 【 ★ talks !! 】 #Gojo #satoru #gojo satoru #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you

[whispering-ways]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡ i like you (too much) - part 1 ♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

♡ summary: you just joined a new high school and you're hoping to make a bunch of new friends. unfortunately, you're paired up with Akatsuki and he seems to despise you. nevertheless, you're determined to make it work. little do you know that you're first interaction would lead to a wonderful friendship and possibly even more.

♡ pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader

♡ tags: no warnings, just fluff :) but the next couple of parts may or may not have some smut ;)

♡ notes: hi besties! I'm back finally with another fanfic after months. I'm so sorry for my hiatus, but I've been super busy with college. I'm graduating in literally in 5 days which is so exciting (neurosci and psychology BS) and also been working on a patent and been doing patient trials in the neurosci lab I volunteer at and been applying for grad programs, so its been a lot. but I'm back with a new (long) Katsuki fic now that things have finally settled! Really this was a story with my OCs, Drew and Kressie (names still yet to be confirmed but that's what I've got for now) but I thought this would still work with Bakugo. Let me know if y'all want me to post the OC version too :) hope you guys like it!

As you sit in the principal’s office with your parents, you start to drown out the principal’s monotonous voice. All you cared about in the moment was how you would fit in. Middle school had been terrible; a journey chocked full of bullies and spending lunches alone. So when your parents told you that the 3 of you were moving to a new state for your dad’s fancy new job, you thought this was your chance to wipe the slate clean. Start afresh and make some friends this time around. You’d been excited for weeks, but now sitting here about to start your first day, you felt your stomach churn with anxiety. 

The principal calling your name brought you back to reality. “So Y/N are you ready to start your first day? I know it’ll be halfway through your periods, but still your first day if you think about it!” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, picking up your backpack. 

“I’ll take you to your new classroom,” said the principal, standing up and opening the door for you, gesturing you to follow him. After saying goodbye to your parents, you head outside the office with a big sigh, readying yourself. It felt like forever before you reached your classroom. Your principal knocked on the door and stuck his head inside. You heard him say something to the teacher inside, but couldn’t quite make out what. She came out a couple moments afterward and the principal left you in her hands. A short introduction later, she brought you inside to the front of the class.

“Hey everyone, I’m sorry to interrupt you all in the middle of quiet work time, but we’ve got a new student. This is (Y/N) and she’ll be in our class from now on,” she said with a big smile on her face; it was almost too cheery. “I’m hoping since you only came in a week late, it won’t be too hard to catch up with the class.” She scanned around the classroom before continuing, “Looks like we’ll have to place you in the back with Katsuki. We share one big desk between students, so I hope that’s okay with you.” You nod and the teacher turns towards her desk, reaching down to grab a packet. “Here’s what we’re working on right now; answer as best as you can and don’t worry about getting questions wrong. You’ll be sitting right over there,” pointing to the back.

You look toward where she gestured to find a guy in a black hoodie, his eyes covered by his hood and lip curled in disdain. “Fantastic,” you thought, taking the packet from your teacher’s hand. “It’d be my luck to be put right next to someone that looks like they’d kill.” You plop down in your seat and look towards your new deskmate, smiling at him as an olive branch. Maybe he was super nice and just didn’t know how to show it. 

He looked at you up and down, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as if he was wondering why you’d even dare to look over. With a sigh, you turn back around and start to work on your packet. You wouldn’t consider yourself super smart, but definitely above average. But ‘above average’ wasn’t going to cut it for this packet. You chose to take Calculus to challenge you and to look better on college applications, but looking at the work in front of you, you regretted your decision. This stuff was just way too complicated, but you were determined to figure it out. 

You look over at Deku to see whether he’s struggling too for some sort of comfort. To your disappointment, you see him flying through the work, his head practically buried in the packet. You tried again to work through the first problem. “Find the derivative of the following function...what even is a derivative?” you thought to yourself. You pulled out your phone, hoping to try and find some sort of video to explain what was going on when you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

You turned around to find your teacher smiling at you once again. “Hey (Y/N), I hope the packet is going good, but in this classroom we don’t use phones to search up answers. If you’re having trouble, why don’t you ask your deskmate to help you out? I’m sure Katsuki would love to help you out!” 

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, giving your teacher a tight-lipped smile in return. “Out of all people, why did I get paired with him,” you pleaded internally. After a few moments, you give up and decide to ask Katsuki for help. “Hey, uh... would you mind helping me out with this question please?” No response. You cleared your throat, hoping to draw attention to your request. Nothing, nada, zilch. It’s then that you noticed he had some earbuds in. “Maybe he really just couldn’t hear me,” you thought. A few moments of contemplation later lead you to tapping his shoulder, hoping to finally get his attention.

He whipped his head around, giving you the chance to get a good look at his face. The first thing you noticed were his eyes. His eyes were red, probably because of contacts, and were coupled with dark circles; it looked like he hadn’t had sleep in weeks. You were finally able to see his hair peeking out from under his hood which had been messily bleached blonde with brown roots growing out. His lips were still in a snarl. “What do you want?” he asked, spitting out each word with anger. “Don’t you know when people are trying to ignore you?”

A hit and a miss. There was no doubting it now; he definitely hated you. You hadn’t even been in the classroom for 20 minutes and your high school dreams of making friends were already coming crashing down. You were just about to reply when he snapped back at you “What? Just going to stare at me forever or something?” 

See, you were nice, but not nice enough to let that sort of behavior go by without saying anything. “What the fuck is your problem dude? I just wanted to ask you about derivatives. Damn, a bitch can’t even be curious about math anymore,” you retorted. You were hoping to put him in his place a little, but instead, you heard him chuckle. 

“Ok fine, I’ll help you out. I’ll admit, that was a little funny. But this doesn’t mean we’re all buddy buddy, okay? I just want you off my back.”

“Sure whatever gets me done with this packet,” you said, flipping through the pages of the problems till you found the one you were looking for. You pointed to the derivative question and said “Just explain this one to me and I’ll be out of your hair. I just don’t really know how to get started with it.”

With an annoyed sigh, Katsuki gets started on explaining it to you. “Okay so basically all you’ve got to do is just differentiate all 3 parts and then add it. Was that too hard for you to understand or something or did you finally get it?”

You didn’t want to say it, but you didn’t get it. What was differentiating? Subtracting? You had no clue. But you couldn’t admit that, not when he was acting so rude; you had way too much pride for that sort of confession. “Let’s say I didn’t get it. I totally did, but if I didn’t, would you be able to explain it more in depth?” you ask him, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on your lie.

Katsuki definitely picked it up. He wasn’t stupid. But he was dreading having to talk to you more. He wasn’t trying to make friends or talk to people and be all chit-chatty; all he wanted was to be left alone, but unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be picking up on that any time soon. He grabbed your sheet and put it right between you two. If you wanted a in-depth explanation, you were going to get one. Bit by bit, he explained every single step of the problem, dragging out each individual part unnecessarily. That’d teach you to bother him again. 

What he did not expect was the beaming smile you gave him in return. “Thank you so much! That actually helped a ton dude! See I knew you could be nice,” you say as you bring the packet back to your side to continue working on the next couple of problems. 

Your response threw him for a loop. Sure, Katsuki was confused over how he could seem nice, but what really had him was your smile. He could’ve sworn it was the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Slightly crooked, but still shined like the sun. He turned around, pulling his hood down to cover the slight blush that had appeared on his face. He hated the feeling he had his stomach now and it was all your fault. He knew it was a bad idea to help you.

He dove into his work, trying not to focus on you. It felt like decades before the bell rang and people started packing up to move to their last period. Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki saw you whip out a folded piece of paper, which opened up to reveal your schedule. He heard you sigh as he was packing up and he already knew what was coming. As soon as he came back up from zipping his backpack, he was met with your eyes looking at him and he knew you were about to bother him again. 

“Uh... so I’ve got my next period in room 2301, but I have no idea how to get there. I think its English Lit with Ms. Carlisle, but like we only have 10 minutes to get there and I don’t want to get lost. Do you mind just giving me some quick directions?” you ask.

He wanted to say no and tell you to get lost. But it seemed like his mouth betrayed him when he heard himself saying “Yeah ok, I”ll take you there.”

“Oh! I mean you don’t have to really take me to the room, but I appreciate it a lot!” you reply cheerily with another one of your smiles.

“Do her cheeks never hurt from all that smiling?” Katsuki thought to himself. “It’s whatever, I’m in the same class too so I don’t give a shit.” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

He starts walking away and you take that as a sign to start walking or be left alone in the classroom. With a wave to your teacher, you speed up to catch up to him. It was a bit awkward walking beside him but not talking. You’d initiate some sort of conversation, but it looked like he was ready to bite your head off and you already felt like you were pushing it. 

Thankfully, Katsuki ended the awkward silence between you two, “So.... like, where did you move from?”

“From Florida, but not like city Florida, think like retirement home type of Florida. North Florida specifically.” you rambled, trying to fill up the silence between you for a bit longer. 

“Cool, so you’ve like seen gators and shit then?” he said, looking down towards you. It was then that he took notice of the height difference between the two of you. He wasn’t super tall by any means, but compared to you he felt like a giant. 

“I mean I’ve seen a couple snakes, gators... and a few lizards too! Nothing too scary though!” you say with a smile. He nodded in response and a silence settled over you two again. You started to rack your brain for something to say to keep the conversation going, when you suddenly felt a yank on your backpack.

“Don’t just fucking walk off, we’re here, English Lit,” Katsuki says, pulling you back to the front of the door after you’d walked right past it. 

“Oh! Thank you” you reply, holding the door open. “After you.”

Katsuki felt weird walking into class and it had nothing to do with the quiz the class had to do today. He walked over to his usual desk and felt you follow behind before sitting down right next to him. You put your bag down in your seat and walked over to the teacher, probably to go introduce yourself. It was obvious to Katsuki that he wasn’t getting rid of you or the weird feeling you gave him every time you smiled anytime soon. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sweetest laugh he had ever heard. He turned towards the source of the sound and he wasn’t surprised to see it came from you. It seemed like everything you did added to that weird feeling he felt in his stomach. He hated it. You sat back down next to him, syllabus in hand along with a couple of other forms for you to fill out. 

Class seemed to drag on forever for Katsuki. It took everything in him to focus on what the teacher was saying rather than how your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and how you chewed your pencil from time to time and how you drew tiny little flowers and hearts on your notes whenever you got bored. The bell finally rang, releasing Katsuki from what seemed to be his own personal hell. He got up wordlessly to walk towards his car, ready to leave and go home. He made it a couple of paces outside of class before he felt a small tap on his arm. 

He turned around to see you looking up at him with big eyes. “Hey.. uhh.. Could I maybe get your number? We have to finish that packet by tomorrow’s class and I know there’s a good chance I could be confused again, so I was hoping to maybe get your help again?” you ask. 

How could he refuse those eyes? With a sigh, he held his phone out to you. You looked up at him quizzically. “Do I need to explain everything to you? Put your number in already. I’ll text you back so you can have mine” he snapped. 

You took his phone and typed in your number, saving your contact while you were at it. “There you go, all saved and everything,” you say. You couldn’t even fully finish your sentence before Katsuki snatched his phone out of your hands. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you Katsuki, but I’ve got to head to the buses soon. I think my bus is leaving in like literally 10 minutes. It was nice meeting you though and hope to see you tomorrow,” you say, running off to catch the bus before you were left without a ride.

“Nice to meet you too, I guess,” he whispered to himself. He hoped you didn’t hear it. He walked to his car, throwing his bag into the backseat and putting his head on the steering wheel. “What’s going on with me? Why is everything so weird all of a sudden?” he thought. He took his phone out from his hoodie, looking for your contact and, more importantly, to put a name to your face.

It wasn’t hard to find since it was the only contact that stuck out like a sore thumb. “Y/N..” he said, reading out your name. He noticed a small smiley face beside your name, a sweet detail that caused an unconscious smile to cross his lips. It didn’t take him long to notice and he immediately shook his head trying to drive his smile away. He put his head back on the wheel with a thud, letting out a frustrated groan. That weird and uneasy feeling in his stomach had come back again and he had a feeling it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

#my hero academia #bhna fluff #bnha fanfiction #bhna x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bhna katsuki bakugo #fluff #smut #mha fluff #mha smut #my hero fanfic #my hero academia x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader fluff #katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader fluff #slow burn #my hero academia fanfiction #fanfic #bhna #mha #my hero #katsuki x you #bakugo x you #Bakugo katsuki x you #katsuki Bakugo x you #katsuki x y/n #Bakugo x y/n #katsuki Bakugo x y/n

[alivzstuff]

my good looking boy

first fanfic on this app, don't hate me if it's horrendous 😓✋

xo, ali

warnings: child neglect, mentions of abuse, cursing, nausea, body shaming, mentions of starving.

summary: You're the new kid in town, hoping to find a friendship. When you meet the good looking boy that you hope will always be by your side.

I walked out the door, finally wishing I can have a better life than how I had it in Arizona. My mom moved us to Boston, Massachusetts after my dad died, hoping for a new start in life. Maybe find a new husband. She said he died hating this marriage. That I ruined everything. That she wished I wasn't here and that maybe her marriage would have worked fine. No arguments. No hate.

Ever since we moved to Boston, she's been putting on a happy smile. She's been trying to move on. Going to clubs and bars. I heard she found some man at her work place, that they have been hitting it off.

It's been a lonely summer and I finally start school today. My mom gave me the name of the school and told me to walk. I don't have a problem with it, it's just kind of sad walking alone. Seeing the buses and cars.

I made it to the school and immediately see people laughing with their friends. I don't have friends but i'm sure I can make some, I mean it wasn't that hard back at my old school.

I began to walk up the stairs of the most idle staircase. The people in front of me are pretty slow but I really don't care considering we have a good 15 minutes until class.

While stepping up each step, I get pushed by the backpack that's in front of me. Tripping me down to the hands of the person behind me.

"Shit, I'm sorry." I said on the tips of my heels backwards. "Are you okay?" A boys voice spoke to me. I got back on my toes and held onto the railing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tripped." I spoke to him. I got to the top of the staircase and he grabbed my wrist as I walked away. "Wait, you don't look like you were here last year. Are you new?" He asked looking into my eyes. I paused. His eyes were a light blue and he had some medium length hair. "Yeah, I'm new. This is kind of embarrassing. My first day at a new school and I'm making a fool of myself to the first person I talk to." I laughed quietly. "Well, I don't think you're a fool. You seem like a pretty cool person." He smiled at me. "Thanks, wanna be friends?" I asked him, hoping he says yes. "Sure, why not." He said as he looked down at his phone. "I gotta get going, maybe I'll see you at lunch?" He said while walking away. "Yeah, cya!"

__________

Finally lunch. It's not like I have any money to buy anything but it's nice to get a break. I looked around, trying to find the good looking boy that was with me this morning. "Hey, black haired girl! Over here!" I looked over my shoulder to see the good looking boy calling me over. I walked over to the table he was at, feeling like all eyes were on me.

"Hi" I sighed. "Are you not gonna get lunch? Well it's just because you're thighs look like you ate thirty pounds of cake." The girl next to me spat out. "Alyssa, stop being so mean." The other girl spoke. "You're thighs are perfect. Not that I was looking. I-I just wanted you to know." The good looking boy murmured. "Thanks, I didn't take it in a weird way." I giggled to myself.

"I guess I haven't introduced my friends to you yet. Those two are Debbie and Alyssa. This is Izaiah. Then they're Nate and Madi. Oh and I'm Chris!" Chris.. Alright. "Nice to meet you guys! I'm y/n!" "Cute! Love the name y/n" Madi stated. "Do you want anything to eat? I have a bag of strawberries if you want." Chris whispered over the loud noise of the cafeteria. "I really shouldn't. It's your food plus I'm not that hungry." I whispered back. He put the bag of strawberries in my hand. "Please, I insist. That's what friends are for at the least, right?" He gave off a soft smile. "Right. Thanks." I said whilst hiding my smile. I opened the bag and began munching on the strawberries. I felt happy. I looked to my side, seeing Alyssa roll her eyes at me. Maybe she likes Chris? I don't know. I feel weird for barging into this friendship. The only people I've felt comfortable with were my friends on a phone screen all the way from Arizona to Boston. "Can I have your number considering we are friends and I might need questions to be answered?" Chris asked, pulling out his phone. "Yeah sure it's 602-123-4567." I spoke out. "Thanks. I'll text you so you know it's me." Chris murmured.

_________

"Are you just gonna walk home? It's pretty hot out here." Chris spoke. "Yeah. My house isn't that far away. I live in Lakeview." I said, walking foward. "I live there too! Lets walk together! Let me just tell my brothers that i'm walking instead." He said whilst pulling out his phone. "If you want too. I won't stop you, not one bit." I sighed. Yeah, I like walking alone but he's my first friend in this state so I'll not mind it too much. Wait he has brothers? "You have brothers?" I asked. "Yeah, I live with them and my mom. But my brother, Matt, drives me and Nick, my other brother, to school. Well, that's because he is the only one with a license." Alright, cool. It's not crazy but just cool. I stayed silent. "Do you wanna eat something at my house? It's just- you didn't eat anything at lunch and I wanted to know if you were hungry. My mom would fucking love you. You would also love her food!" He exclaimed. "Okay, I'll go." I said while giggling.

After about 10 minutes, we made it to his house. He unlocked the door and we went inside. "This is where I live. Welcome!" He said very proudly. "Chris honey, is this one of your little friends? Nice to meet you, I'm Mary lou. You can call me Ms. Sturniolo if you want though. Im making dinner and there's always room for one more stomach!" His mom said while stirring the pot. "Thanks, I'm basically starved and can't wait to eat whatever you have in that pot..!" I stated. "Let's go to my room until food is ready." He advised. I placed my shoes and back pack on the floor next to the front door, taking his hand that was pulling me. We ran up the stairs and he opened the door to his room. Purple LED lights, dark green blanket on the bed, a tv, pictures of him and his friends, family photos, empty cans of pepsi, a desk. Just stuff that goes in a room. "Before you meet them, I just want you to know that the two brothers I have are my triplets. So we look alike, but we have our differences. If that makes sense. If you're ever stuck, Matt has a stubble beard, Nick has blonde hair, and I'm the one with ear length hair." He assured. "Cool.. Cool..."

"Did you know me and my brothers have a YouTube channel? We just hit two million subs! I bet you didn't know that about me!" He shouted. "I didn't know that, we should watch it while eating!" I exclaimed.

"Kids, dinner!" His mom shouted. "I'll go get the food, you can stay here of you want. If you don't come I'll just bring your plate up. But you can search up 'sturniolo triplets' and pick whatever video you want to watch..!" He said as he walked out the door. I picked up the remote and went to YouTube on the Roku tv. Sturniolo triplets... There! I wouldn't want to watch a old video.. But I don't want to watch a video that's too recent. Whatever. I can't choose. I'll just ask him what he likes when he gets back.

__

"Took long enough! I was basically falling asleep!" I said as he brung the plate to my thighs. "Well you didn't. Here's your food."

He pulled out two pepsis from the pockets of his gray sweatpants. Outlining his- I need to stop thinking nasty shit. "I brought Pepsi if you wanted to drink something while eating." He said while handing me it. "Thanks. Ya know, I haven't had soda in three years. Forgot the taste." I spoke as I clicked open the can. "Seriously? That's kinda crazy to be honest" "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I couldn't find a video so I would just let you pick any video you want." "Maybe we can just eat and talk?" He murmured. "Sure, that would be nice."

____two months later____

I popped on my airpods and sat on the bench, scrolling through spotify trying to erase the thought that my mom could've had a bad day. But especially, that she would take it out on me. I can't remember the last time I had a good relationship with my mother. I would usually eat at Chris's house when I knew my mom wouldn't feed me. He knows somethings wrong but whenever he asks, I just change the subject. I don't want him to worry about me. He can worry about other things, like grades or if he doesn't understand a question. But he shouldn't worry about anything I have to say. It's lunch time but I'd rather starve than have to look Alyssa in the eyes. Knowing she was judging me every second she got. I wasn't a chubby girl. It's just that everything I ate would go to my thighs. I did have a small stomach. I did have normal arms. I was normal. I at least wanted to be normal.

I hummed to the tune of the song. Closing my eyes and waiting to feel my alarm go off so I could go back to class. I needed the thoughts out my head. I was hungry and I knew it. I had a job over the summer but my mom took my paychecks when they came in the mail saying, "Family shares money. Don't be greedy because boys don't like that." Her voice surrounded my thoughts.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I looked over to see Chris. I took off my airpods, staring at him.

"You aren't at the lunch table so I went to go find you. I have a sandwich though. For you." He smiled. "Thanks, this is probably the last thing I'll eat this week!" I said. Knowing it probably was. His smile fell off his face. I looked into his eyes that looked into mine. "Oh- no, I was joking. Don't uhm take that seriously." I awkwardly said, lying through my teeth. He look worried. The last thing I wanted him to look like. We stared into each other's eyes. Neither of us looking away.

I learned in for a hug. My head rested on his shoulder. "Thanks for the sandwich." I whispered in his ear. His hands rubbed my back. I sighed at leaned back to where I was, unraveling the sandwich he gave me and taking a bite. I put one airpod back in my ear, handing him the other one. "Wanna listen?" I said as I chewed. He took the airpod and put it inside his ear as "slow dancing in the dark" by Joji started playing. I looked at the sky while chewing and taking another bite. "I know something is worrying you." He whispered. I look at him while my cheeks were stuffed. I swallowed. "What?" I sighed. "Y/n. I'm your friend. What's bothering you?" He said. I wouldn't tell him. All I was thinking about were those words and 'give me reasons we should be complete'. "Nothing is bothering me. I-I-I'm sorry if I'm making this friendship hard but.. Uhm.. I think I need to go." I gagged out. Whenever I'm nervous I throw up. So I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. I hated throwing up. As I had my airpods in, 'I want you' by mitski played. I knew he could hear it too.

_____

if you want a part two it'll come soon😓✋

sorry of this was dog shit I'm a new writer- I hope you liked it though. Tell me if you wanna be tagged in the next part 🖤

xo, ali

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #y/n #sturniolo x reader

[good-beanswrites]

Added my Double drabble to Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins! I snuck it into chapter 2 so I figured I'd make a quick post with it here :)

“Hey, stop bumping me.”

“You’re bumping me – I can’t see!”

“Just scooch over.”

“My toes!”

Mikoto looked back at the group of prisoners huddled around him, packed tightly so that they could peer over his shoulder at the monitors. His hand paused from where it had been sweeping the stylus around, rearranging his latest creation.

“It’s not that exciting guys,” he laughed. “Let me at least show you some of the finished pieces, I’m sure this is boring…” 

Not that the other pictures were that exciting, either. He pulled up the other frames he’d been busy editing. There came a chorus of oohs and ahhs, but Mikoto knew it was just out of obligation. He flicked through a few of them as quickly as he could.

It was the type of art he loved to do (with some input from Red now and then) but it didn’t really suit any of the other prisoners’ tastes. He’d heard enough questions about his field to know it wasn’t all that impressive to most people. 

Sure enough, Kazui squinted at the screen. “You made all these?” he asked. “Like, you drew them?”

“Er…in a way. I drew some of the elements, and had to do some work to make the effects look right. And the color coordination takes time too.” He scratched the back of his head. “I know it doesn’t look like much…”

When he glanced over, though, Kazui’s expression was one of awe. “No, no, you’re very talented!”

Haruka’s finger tapped the screen. “Can you go back to that one?”

Mikoto clicked back to a photo of himself sitting on one of the train benches. It was meant to depict Red, made abundantly clear by the blood spatter, colored eyes, and savior label that had been placed with much deliberation. Blue had insisted on it, though Red only agreed with the addition of quotations. Their guilty verdict had been crushing for both of them (though not wholly unexpected), so it was important to show all sides of them, now.

Although it had been one of his favorites when working on it, he suddenly wondered if his personal flair had gotten out of hand. It was hardly distinguishable as the original shot, with too many textures and additions obscuring everything.

Fuuta whistled. “Man, that looks sick. You should have done my video…”

“Mine too!” Mahiru said. “I love the bright colors you’re using in all of these. And the paper and ink just looks so crafty!”

Kotoko leaned in to get a better look. “I really like the focus on the eyes here.” 

“O-oh, thanks!” He could feel his chin lift at the commentary. “I got the idea a bit ago… it’s kind of a running thing now? I drew some of them here –” he scrolled though a few frames. “And a scribble over the face here to keep the theme going. Little ones here, a string of them like this. Heh, I drew about a thousand different eye designs to get any actually liked. Then I have these big ones, see? I’m debating on including a blue version, too, but maybe I’m going overboard. I think Jackalope might have a heart attack, seeing all this crap.” 

“He’ll get over it.” Yuno answered his joking smile with a genuine one. “I’m so glad you’re having fun with these. It’s all very… you.”

Mikoto’s gaze fell onto the last frame he’d pulled up: another messy one of Red filled with pink and blue, with the text save you repeated nearby.

“It’s both of us.”

#milgram #mikoto kayano #and technically everyones there too but they dont say much individually #using my headcanoned names of Blue and Red like in chapter 1 (in the hopes i can introduce Green in t3 🤞🤞🤞) #i tried really hard to sneak in a john reference but since this happens months before and es is the one to come up the name it didnt work #i just wanted to show mikoto finally using his art as an outlet rather than it being a career burden like double showed ;-; #and i need them to interact!!!! and look out for each other !!! #bare minimum be aware of each other!!! 😭 #im so crushed that bokukoto is still in the dark after all this #RIP deep cover delay btw -_- im so glad the animation team is taking the time they need though #fanfic #lights camera sing your sins

[l-sincline]

Girlish Whimsy - Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Next

AO3 tags: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, Ootori Kyouya/Original Female Character(s), Ootori Kyouya, Suoh Tamaki, Original Characters, Original Female Characters, Morinozuka Takashi, Haninozuka Mitsukuni, Fujioka Haruhi, Hitachiin Hikaru, Hitachiin Kaoru, Slow Burn, Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, smart people that arent smart about romance, Oblivious, Battle of Wits, Ouran High is one giant social chess game

Asuka has her eyes on the prize as soon as she steps foot on Ouran High School grounds. Her goal? Impress her father enough to convince him to let her remain as heir to the company instead of handing the title down to her younger brother. She knows going to school at Ouran will be one big chess game, especially coming in late at her second year- but she's up for any challenge.

Asuka finds herself intrigued by the Host club and the inner workings of it. More than that, she sees untapped opportunities to grow her resume. Now all she needs is a partner on the inside who's equally as motivated, and he was easier to find than she thought.

“I won’t have you squander these very important years anymore– if you want this spot, you will earn it.”

“But–”

“It’s non negotiable.”

There is silence. The girl bites her lip and looks downcast to the floor. A part of her wants to tip her head up to the ceiling to combat the forming tears. By her sides her hands form fists, nails digging into her palms. Her father’s gaze softens.

“I know you’re bright enough for this, Asuka, but you need to show me more than I know. I need to see the side of you that's ready to lead this company. I need you to show me everything you have to the one thousandth percent. The time is now.” 

“You’re gonna form wrinkles real early if you keep furrowing your brow like that.” Mayu leans on her desk, face propped up by hand. 

Asuka scowls deeper, but then sighs and leans back– doing her best to relax her face. She massages the bridge of her nose and then looks over to Mayu.

Mayu and Asuka have been close friends for a while– even if they didn’t attend the same schools. Their families had introduced them some time ago, and they’d been stuck like glue ever since. While Asuka attended a local public school, Mayu had been following the lineage of Ouran private schools the entire time she’d, well, been in school. Asuka supposed her friend’s parents had finally talked up the place enough to convince her own father to have her come here. Just as she’d been ready to start her second year in her own high school, she’d been whisked away. 

At the very least she had Mayu here. She would’ve been even more frustrated if she’d shown up at Ouran Private Academy with no friends in her second year. Not that she’d ever been much of a social butterfly in the first place– but that surely was social suicide. 

“Don’t you think it’s nice here?” Mayu pressed.

“Money has to go somewhere, doesn’t it?” Asuka responded, glancing around the class room again.

Maybe on first look it was simple– but during class she’d noticed that the painting hung on the back wall was worth thousands of dollars. 

“Is it not similar to the public school at all? Not even the classroom?”

“God no.” She huffed, “This place is huge– and so intricate. Imagine someone slapped a whole bunch of drywall together into a box and painted it cream, that's what every room in that school looked like.” 

Mayu ‘ooh’s for a moment, “Then aren’t you much happier here? It must’ve felt like a prison there.”

A prison? Maybe. In all reality Asuka felt like her time at public school had accomplished what her mother had intended- it humbled her. Asuka loved Mayu, but she was just as oblivious rich kid-y as anyone else here. Thinking Ouran Private Academy was the norm for schools was certainly some way of thinking. Maybe if she’d started here earlier it would’ve been easier- maybe in her first year instead of her second. Sure, she didn’t miss her old school building, but she did miss the friends and memories she’d made. 

“Just sucks to leave everyone behind.” She finally mutters.

Mayu sits up and tilts her head inquisitively. 

“You know, you could’ve avoided all this if you just agreed to hand over the heir position to your younger brother.”

Ah yes, her younger brother. A whopping eleven years younger than her, Hiro had been blessed with being born a boy, and his name was immediately brought into the equation of ‘who would be the heir to the Kaneko Jewels Corporation’. No matter how much older she was, no matter how better suited for the position, Asuka would now spend the rest of her life fighting her younger brother for what was rightfully hers.

“No way.” She scoffs. 

Mayu smiles softly.

“Then I guess you better find new friends here.” 

“I guess.” Asuka sighs and leans forward on her desk, tapping a finger on her note book. 

Mayu watches her quietly. The room is still filled with other students, talking and laughing and god knows what else. They all simply seemed happy to see eachother again after the long break. They’re mingling, waiting for their drivers, and heading out to their clubs, of course. 

“Ah ha!” Mayu exclaims suddenly, regaining Asuka’s attention. “I know what we can do today! I’ve always wanted to go with someone…” 

“What?” 

“The Host Club! I’ve heard so much about it from the other girls but I’ve never been and I-”

Mayu’s voice fades away as she continues rambling on about her idea. Host… Club…? What in the world… Asuka was at a loss for words. She furrowed her brows again as she stared incredulously at Mayu, who was still rambling.

“Mayu” She cut her off.

“Yes?”

“A Host Club?” 

“Yes! Come on, I don’t want to go alone.” 

“Surely you have other girl friends here that would be willing to go with you.” 

“It’s not the same when you go with people that are used to it– you end up feeling out of place.” Mayu smiles cheerily. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” Asuka lets out a breathy laugh. Seriously, a Host Club? She supposed she could understand the appeal of it for other girls, just not for her. And certainly not in this unflattering yellow dress. 

“Please!” Mayu suddenly reaches over and grabs her wrist, “You won’t even have to do anything. You can just sit there for my moral support. I’ll tell them you’re not interested myself.” 

Curses, puppy dog eyes. Asuka looks away, but can’t help but be dragged back to Mayu’s face. She bites her bottom lip, groans, and then sighs.

“Okay. Fine. Let me go.”

Mayu beams and drops her wrist as Asuka sits back in her chair. 

“The second anything weird happens I’m out– and I won’t care if you follow me.”

#new longfic time el oh el #I AM STILL WORKING ON CYBERNETICS #i am working on it so hard I promise #but this is smth I am also proud of that has been in the works since this summer #and I finally decided to say fuck it and post it #cybernetics WILL BE BACK I am just trying to finish writing it before I start posting again #anyways real tags time #ouran high school host club #oc x canon #kyouya ootori #kyoya ootori #the way no one can decide how to spell his name #i digress #ohshc #ohshc fanfic #fanfic #oc insert #sinclines writing #girlish whimsy

[paigemathews]

I have briefly discussed both of the Morris boys before, but I truly do get a kick out of Michael being thrown into magical shenanigans. DJ? DJ’s chill. He’s got this. Mortal as he is, he’s been engrained into the next gen’s chaos for years. He’s working as an assistant private investigator for an agency ran by a witch and minored in like. folklore or classics or something to have more background on some of the random magical things that comes up. He’s not magical, but that world is second nature to him.

Michael? look, he’s a few years older than the rest of them and so everything was pretty chill until he went off to college because that’s when the rest of the next gen started entering high school and figuring out that they can fight demons without telling their parents. Now he visits San Francisco and can’t avoid magical nonsense. He tries very hard to be polite about it, but also is lowkey breathing into a paper bag so the other next gen kids try very hard to leave him out of it but uhhh, it just keeps happening. Like he’s literally in New York and Chris orbs him and DJ into Michael’s apartment and Michael screams before realizing who it is and just has this moment of dread as he asks if there’s something going on in New York and Chris is just 😬 and dips to go vanquish the demon, have fun with your brother!

And like nine times out of ten, he isn’t helpful in a magical situation. Like sure he’s a great lawyer and a generally skilled person, but like. A cross examination isn’t gonna do shit when there’s a demon flinging energy balls at you!! And that’s v funny and all but also: the one time that Chris and DJ show up and are like hey, we need a lawyer is ofc the one time that it’s Michael’s element and so he agrees because this is his little brother (and little brother’s chaotic best friend) and he rolls up except it’s fucking. magic. court. 

#charmed #dj morris #michael morris #next gen fanfic series #look i just really love the morris boys and their roles in the next gen #michael makes me giggle bc like he's either v confused and knows nothing about magic or is like cant you just change the weather #chris is like what the fuck do you mean can i change the weather i move things with my mind #there is no in between he has no idea about the scale of their powers but there is this idea rattling around my skull #of like. the non teleporting fam trying to get in somewhere and chris did TRY to say something but they're too focused on trying to like. #pick the lock or some shit and he's standing there with michael just watching before michael finally asks #cant you like. teleport and chris has the most deadpan tone as he says yep. #bc sometimes forgetting about your (or your kid's) powers is just funny #i also have many thoughts about dj but this was mostly about michael tbh #i will say tho that the witch dj's working for? her name is robin montana and she's a badass

[firendgold]

Since I saw that you're doing the violence ask game can you answer 22, 25 and 7??

I sure can.~

This one got long af though, so another readmore.

(still choosing violence)

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

This is another one I've answered already, but tbf... it was yesterday. So I can pull my second favorite part of canon instead so you don't have to re-read an older answer.

There's two moments that tie: one in year 5 and one in year 6. Year 5's moment is a nice warm-and-fuzzy "the trio are such good friends" scene, in the midst of Umbridge torturing Harry with her quill:

It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge’s office that night, his hand now bleeding so severely that it was staining the scarf he had wrapped around it. He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for him. He was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical. “Here,” she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid toward him, “soak your hand in that, it’s a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help.” Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, and then leapt into his lap and settled down. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks’s ears with his left hand. “I still reckon you should complain about this,” said Ron in a low voice. “No,” said Harry flatly. “McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—” “Yeah, she probably would,” said Harry. “And how long d’you reckon it’d take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?” Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and after a moment he closed it again in a defeated sort of way. “She’s an awful woman,” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in . . . we’ve got to do something about her.” “I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.

Just seeing the trio bounce off each other is soothing (especially after reading days or weeks worth of fanfics where they all suddenly hate each other or were never really that good of friends or whatever). Harry's gratitude and stubbornness, Hermione's caretaking and forethought and plotting, Ron's voice of reason and necessary dash of humor... all perfect. Also, just... Harry is so used to going things alone, toughing things out by himself. It's heartwarming and sad that he still doesn't expect Ron and Hermione to do something as simple as waiting up for him to get back from hellish detention. Also also: Crookshanks curling up with him. ^^

Year 6's moment is just between Harry and Hermione:

Hermione stopped dead; Harry had heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited and a moment later the vulture-like countenance of Madam Pince appeared round the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying. ‘The library is now closed,’ she said. ‘Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct – what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?’ ‘It isn’t the library’s, it’s mine!’ said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand. ‘Despoiled!’ she hissed. ‘Desecrated! Befouled!’ ‘It’s just a book that’s been written in!’ said Harry, tugging it out of her grip. She looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione, who had hastily packed her things, grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched him away. ‘She’ll ban you from the library if you’re not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?’ ‘It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or d’you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something going on between them …’ ‘Oh, ha, ha …’ Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted, lamplit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

Very, very cute scene showing Harry and Hermione getting along casually, something we're not often treated to even in canon. A frankly disturbing amount of fans (particularly fans of A Specific Ship I Will Not Mention Here) have bought into the propaganda that Harry and Hermione aren't really that good of friends just because during GOF, when he'd just experienced his first ever schism with a close friend, Harry privately confessed to missing Ron and enjoying the things he did with his male best friend more. The trio is not "Harry and Ron, then Ron and Hermione". It's "Harry, Ron, and Hermione"; all three of them are necessary pieces of the whole. Harry and Hermione's friendship is different than Harry's with Ron, but it's no less valuable, and not any weaker, or else Hermione wouldn't have stayed in that damned tent.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Every bit of discourse about Sirius not getting a trial. We know. The injustice is the point. The cruelty is the point. The POINT is to show that wizarding Britain is glitz and glamor and not all that fair to its marginalized peoples and underclass, you nimrods. Frankly, the fanfics that purport to 'fix' it by giving Sirius his "restored Lordship" or a bunch of seats on the Wizengamot or immediate "wizarding guardianship" over Harry or some unnamed hot babes for him to fuck on or off-screen are very... shallow and unsatisfying. Either that or they give him a bunch of money, though this would at least be on brand for the Ministry. But like... yeah. I'm tired of this complaint always going in the same direction and not being a gateway to Greater Commentary On The Series and the World. Because it's not like Sirius and/or Harry become the type of people who rebel against this ideology. If anything, they embrace the pureblood nonsense in a lot of these fics and are just mad that Sirius was the target that one time. Gaaaah.

And, and. Every bit of discourse about Dumbledore leaving Harry at the Dursleys and/or the sacrificial lamb throwaway line by Snape, especially because 99.9% of people discussing it either haven't read the books, haven't read them since the first time and desperately need a re-read, have only seen the movies, are parroting opinions from some other wrong person on the internet, are all read-up but blatantly ignoring what Dumbledore and Harry say (and don't say) over what they THINK they mean, or some other lovely form of ignorance that leads to the same long-debunked takes being re-introduced as GASP-DID-YOU-EVER-CONSIDER soundbites over and over and over and OVER again. I'm so sick of it.

I get it, JKR's a TERF, you don't want to re-engage with her work, and you don't have to. You don't have to give her any more money. Hell, you shouldn't, ever again. But please, fucking make sure your knowledge is correct and not fandom telephone when it comes to Harry's childhood and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I'm not-even-lowkey sick of some of y'all at this point.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how the fandom acts about them?

I... don't have an immediate answer for this, so I'm going to have to think about it. To you it's only going to take me one line, but for me it'll actually be like... an evening or something.

...

Okay.

This is difficult because (to use the exact terminology) I can't think of a character I've come to hate because of how the fandom acts about them. I definitely have characters whose most popular fanon versions are so irritating or repulsive that it has caused me to look more critically on the real versions of them, though. I guess maybe I'll list those here.

Fleur came to mind first. She seems (and can be) very shallow and haughty in canon at first, but shows compassion and hidden depths in all three of her appearances. She has some veela hair in her wand from her grandmother, and a deep devotion for her younger sister. However... many fanfics (especially harem fanfics or flowerpot fanfics) paint her as either this femme fatale who uses her "veela allure" at will and Cannot Fathom the idea of a man who can resist her (and is thus more vulnerable to falling in love with such a man) or as a super-powerful witch whose family is basically running Magical France (since of course, she is the only French character we know, so why wouldn't she be the most influential person there? /s). Basically, the "foreign" version of what people do to fanon Daphne Greengrass. Ironically, the best fanfic portrayals of Fleur I've seen are the ones that keep her shipped with Bill (with a few flowerpot exceptions, see A Beautiful Lie by MaybeMayba as the prime example), or ship her with Hermione or Ginny... which is sad because I love me some ship variety. (And I still think Bill/Tonks would've been rad as hell.) So I don't dislike canon Fleur, but fanon's "over-attention" to that possible veela heritage and the weird implication that Harry was just "forced" not to notice this perfect woman in his life, rather than just noticing her beauty and not being interested, rubs me the wrong way and disinclines me from including her in many of my own works.

The Bones family is next. Yes, both Amelia and Susan. Susan isn't as bad (I think she has... two lines in Order of the Phoenix? maybe?), but as with most "mostly undefined" HP girls, the personality the fandom has given her (the super sweet politically-savvy Hufflepuff girlfriend of "just do independent!Harry with Lordships and pro-Ministry propaganda and plenty of Wizengamot meetings between Hogwarts classes") is one I've seen so many times it has come to negatively affect my view of the real girl, even though I think the way she calls Amelia "auntie" in canon is adorable. As for Amelia, fanon likes to make her either the Only Sane Man in the Ministry or the leader of the sane faction, who magically is able to fix or ignore all the corruption in said Ministry and can railroad through whatever decisions Harry needs done once he needs to Do Political or Pureblood Stuff Outside of Hogwarts--provided, of course, he's been nice enough to Susan recently.

The closest actual answer to this question I have is Tom Riddle. I didn't like him in canon by any means--I'd probably say I was neutral toward him, just seeing him as "the young Voldemort before he did his magical girl transformation". But fanon kind of acts like he and Voldemort are... two different people? There's these pervasive ideas that either Tom could've been "saved" if Certain People Just Did More (to stop him sneaking around and bullying and murdering???), or that Tom wasn't really so bad when he was gathering up supporters, murdering his family members and the few people who trusted him, and generally going around Becoming the Dark Lord--it was just when he made the switch that he became bad. And like... no. I can't buy that. Even in fanfic, I can't get fully behind the idea of a sane Tom Riddle who was Doing Good until he got sidetracked Oh Nooo. He wasn't. I believe Voldemort was saner before he tried to kill a baby and it backfired, but I don't think there was ever a point where he could have been saved. At every fork he made the wrong decision--to soothe his ego, to feel powerful, to feel special, to feel better than others and make them feel that way too. Tom Riddle's a prick. If anything, we should've seen him squirm a little more before he died.

The last one stings, because it's a character I adore: Hermione. Hermione is a very polarizing figure in canon and always has been, I get it. But what particularly hurts me about her fanon portrayals is that they are VERY SELDOM accurate, or even balanced. Either the author sees her as Their Wife and so she is perfect and never does any wrong and basically becomes the main character of the fic (even if she is not actually the main character), or they overinflate her flaws and use it as a reason to hate on her and bash her to oblivion. There's rarely an in-between. I'm not sure which one is worse. If you held my feet to the fire, I might say the former because a character without any flaws or one who takes over the entire narrative and doesn't let other characters breathe is not fucking interesting to me in the slightest.

This especially hurts because I am a huge Harmony fan and like 60% of bad Harmony fanfics are always the same fucking tropes/plotlines. Hermione is unironically referred to as The Brightest Witch of THE Age (incorrect, not what Remus said. he said "the brightest witch of your age I've ever met", basically meaning she's unusually smart for a fourteen year-old girl). She's treated like the next female Dumbledore who has all the answers (even about stuff she wouldn't know) and often guides Harry's every move.

And speaking of Dumbledore--the same girl who is supportive of him in canon and (after Harry) is MOST likely to recognize Dumbledore as a human who can make mistakes is ALWAYS turned into a Dumbledore Skeptic Who Has Been Suspicious of His Motives All Along, and who will do whatever it takes to get her boyfriend away from his manipulations... by taking manipulative!Dumbledore's place. That's right. This version of fanon Hermione ALWAYS becomes the same thing the author is supposedly railing against, because Harry becomes her mouthpiece, spends all his time with her to the exclusion of anyone else, and can't have a single meeting or meaningful scene with any other character unless she is also present.

Haphne fics do this too, but I swear they got it from bad Harmony fics and it makes me so mad. For once, I would love to read a Harmony fic where Dumbledore is portrayed accurately and both Harry AND Hermione are equal, independent partners who don't have panic attacks if separated for more than five minutes. Especially because as a child Hermione never struck me as the kind of person who even would get married or have a serious relationship distracting her from her Great Work!

But yeah. That last one hurts the most because I love Hermione as an individual, as the very important third of the trio, as a potential partner for Harry (though this isn't the right blog for that!), and just as an iconic character.

I... think that's all? Yep. Thanks~!

#kosondroom #thanks for the ask! #fireandgoldposts #the golden trio #ironically I try not to use that tag much but I need it here #Harry and Hermione #I'm sure you can guess which ship I was talking about. I'm sure the whole world could #genuinely begging fanon Sirius(es?) to actually start dismantling the corrupt pureblood politics instead of bending over for them #as I've said many times by now I reeeeally just want to read new and better ideas in fanfic #and my job is hella stressful I can't be out here writing all of them myself #I sound like such a ''my canon right or wrong'' person in most of these asks lol. in actuality I love ignoring Certain Large Swathes #I just find certain ascended fanon tropes/headcanons in the HP fandom in particular to be either boring or aggravating #and thus I would like them to go away once and for all or for us all to Grow Beyond Them #how many times do y'all think I've read incorrect Obscurial!Harry takes? take a wild guess. you won't be in the ballpark #actually if you are a sane fan side note do not go on Quora answers. it will piss you off every day #me as usual saying ''stop making up shit to be mad at Dumbledore about 2023 there's already enough in canon'' #make HP girls more unique and complex 2k23 #I'm tired of reading the same OC girl but with a canon name and a different house tie #''she said boomerly'' lmao #this is making me want to either sit down and write another time travel fic or finally sit down and write a harmony #choose violence ask game

[mintsilhouette]

“I’m leaving in the morning, but before then, I really, really want to finish looking around, while also doing my best to not totally destroy this place in the process or get seriously hurt, and it would be nice to have a...an exploring buddy! Or, I guess, more like a lookout, or — or a spotter! Like with weights? That way, we can help each other if anything else bad happens, and we won’t accidentally scare each other either.”

Before he could manage to say anything, Casita gave its own enthusiastic answer. The bottom set of stairs flattened into a slope, and a couple of tiles crowded underneath him, rippling strongly enough to pick him right up. Ignoring his yelp of protest, the house slid him down and gently deposited him next to Mirabel.

“See? Even Casita thinks it’s a good idea!” She said brightly. “I have some food I can share with you too, as a thank-you. What do you think?”

He stared like he'd done a few times before, but the deep-seated wariness had faded into a softer, more curious emotion. Like he saw her as something abstract, something that was difficult for him to make much sense of. Finally, he sighed.

“Will you do it anyway, with or without me?” He asked, with the tiniest smidge of dry humor.

Her smile spread, shedding the gentleness for some good old-fashioned determination. “Absolutely,” she said. “No question.”

+++

(Local mystery man desperately tries to avoid a longer conversation, even though he and Mirabel are literally the only two people for miles around. She (and Casita) are not having it!)

#encanto #encanto fanfic #mirabel madrigal #bruno madrigal #osaat fic #FINALLY #i feel like part of what took of me so long is that i'm still trying to get my hands around the cadence and flow of how bruno talks lol #i rewrote like a solid 75% of his dialogue while editing from my first draft #and if i keep looking at it i'll get the itch to make further tweaks but i really need to stop and just let it stand at this point!!! #i hope it turned out all right in the end! #also: will bruno ever have an actual name???? who can say

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s cute.”

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

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

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

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

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

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

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And second of all?”

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

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

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

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

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

“—one should we start with?”

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

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

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

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

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

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

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

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

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

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

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

“No it’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

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

Namjoon rattles off a time.

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

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

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

“Haaa, that’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

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

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

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

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

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

It’s just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You going out of town again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

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

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

“What?”

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

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

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

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

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

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

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

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

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

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

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

“What is this?”

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

“I can see that, but… why?”

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

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

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

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About us.

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

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

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

“Can you not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

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

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

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

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

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a completely normal question.

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

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

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

You swallow. Hard.

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

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

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

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

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

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

Showtime.

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

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

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

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure? We can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds like a challenge.

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

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

“Gummy bear?”

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

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

He continues:

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

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

It works. “No,” he scowls.

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

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

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

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

Then he reads—

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

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

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

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

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

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

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

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

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

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

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

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

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

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is very, very bad.

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

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

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

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

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

You do not get through recording unscathed.

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

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

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

The two of you had sex.

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

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

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

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

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

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

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

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

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

Today, he wears none of those things.

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t get any better.

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

Thirty-five minutes back home.

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

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

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

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

That’ll cure you.

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

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

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

Except—you’re not.

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

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are fucked beyond belief.

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

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

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

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

“I forgot them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

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

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

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

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

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

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

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

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

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

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

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

“Not with you, preferably.”

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

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

No fucking way.

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

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

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

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

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

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

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

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

“How weird?”

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

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

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

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

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

You want to fuck Namjoon.

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

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

And then someone knocks on your door.

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

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

“Uh, hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you’re the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

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

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

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

It’s seamless.

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

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

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

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

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

[seiko-yume]

I LOVED the owl house finale, ok. I know everyone was working under limited time and had to roll with what they had to wrap this all up. I had more questions than the episode prior, but it doesn’t matter. There are things in life we will never have the answer to, and it’s better to be content with the unknown than to die trying to find the answer to it. I dont even care that my sexyman died cause I got to see my son (The Collector) again. Also wtf King’s dad is Sans Undertale???? I just know everyone’s simping over The Titan.

#rant #I saw a Belos apologist say they hated the whole episode #mainly because their sexyman died #and I’m like WTF!!! The team worked hard as hell to give this to us!! #Not to mention working under disney’s pressure is like actual hell #did they freaking forget Belos literally tried to cause genocide #maybe I’m just sensitive about criticisms or something. #like yeah the finale isn’t perfect #and there were def some things they could have done differently #but I’m greatful we even get to see a finale from TOH #i also jokingly call this person a belos apologist cause I don’t sincerely believe you can be an apologist for liking a fictional character #but they always victimized him and tbh after their little excerpt I think they’re kinda uhhhh sus? #not dropping names and ofc I think you can dislike things. you can dislike the finale bc it was so rushed. it literally HAD to be rushed #i don’t think you should hate a show because your fascist genocide villain gets to somehow live #as down bad as I am for him he got what he deserved #and there’s always fanfic AUs where I can make him somehow live #and then sissify him with my self-insert garu-stu until he’s reduced to an elderly crossdresser catboy who meows for my chara on command #wtf this rant went weird

[usersanon]

Please be aware of the user @/saintsugu also known as Ezra.

Past pseudonyms include (but are not limited to: @/aces_high

I never thought that I would have to create a post like this. In my near 12 years on the internet, I never thought I would have to write down the words I am about to type, especially about a fellow fanfic creator, one I used to enjoy before I found out about the type of person he really is. I apologise for the long post, however I want to make sure I am as thorough as possible so I can bring this person to justice.

Before opening the read more/ continuing with this post, please read the trigger warnings. This will deal with heavy topics, ones that make me sick to my stomach. I apologise for all of the censoring in this post as well.

TW: P*DOPHILIA, UNDER*GE, SEXUALIZATION OF EDS AND SH

I would just like to start off by saying how difficult this post is for me to write. I have had to take multiple breaks while typing this out. I have felt disgusted since I first saw the posts on his twitter. Like I need to take a shower and scrub myself clean, however, at the same time I feel like I cannot sit idly by while Ezra still has a platform.

The posts I have seen on his twitter, what he actively endorses is just disgusting and predatory in nature. I have done my best to censor them so as to not continue the spread of such material. As of the time of this post, his twitter is still public.

HIS TWITTER (X) IS CURRENTLY UNDER THE NAME @/ezr_ace

First, I’ll give evidence I have to prove that the twitter account stated above is in fact his. I was wary at first as well, however, I believe this evidence in fact proves that beyond reasonable doubt that the account is his.

The obvious reasoning is as follows: Ezra goes by the pseudonym Ezra currently, and has gone by the pseudonym Ace in the past. Both the twitter account and his tumblr state that he is 21. Both twitter and tumblr themes are the same in nature, featuring manga panels of Suguru edited in the same way.

If you’re familiar with Ezra at all, you would know that they are very close with another user, Flora, also known as @/fyogasm. Previously known as @/pussydrunkfyodor on tumblr. When going through the followers of this twitter account, I noticed someone by the name of Flora following him (one of about 34 followers), with the user @/floratumblr. This account had their tumblr linked in the bio of the profile, and it led straight to Flora’s tumblr. Screen recording is posted below:

UPDATE: since Ezra has been called out, Flora has unfollowed Ezra’s Twitter as well as deleted her account. I can only assume it is to try and dodge the backlash of being associated with him. Here are screenshots proving they are moots/ interacting with each other.

Note: I do not know what this means for the content of Flora’s character. All I can say for certain is that she is close friends with him (to the point they have each others numbers), and that she follows his Twitter. I did not dive deep into her Twitter before she deleted it. But I can say that I do believe she knew the content he was posting about, otherwise she wouldn’t have deleted her Twitter the second he was called out while remaining mutuals with him on tumblr.

UPDATE 1/19/24 1:50 pm: Since creating this post, Flora has reached out and stated that they have broken all contact with Ezra. They state that they are not frequently on twitter, and was completely unaware of the type of content he was posting on the account. They state that the content found on the account has made them feel sick and that they are no longer friends anymore.

Back to the main point, this only adds to the similarities listed above. A close mutual that he has been seen actively talking to on his tumblr also follows him on twitter, endorsing his behavior. This alone was too much for me to ignore. However, one final factor came into play that solidifies that user ezr_ace and user saintsugu are the same Ezra.

He not only posted to his tumblr about hateful anon messages, but also his twitter at the same time. Right after the messages were sent, he tweeted the following, as well as posted the following messages on his tumblr. Screenshots with time stamps posted below:

This for me, confirms that the two accounts are the same. There are simply too many coincidences for me to ignore. I feel that there is no argument about the validity of the accounts, as there are just too many similarities to ignore. Now, I can delve into what the post is really about. The content of the Twitter account.

P*DOPHILLIC ACTIONS AND UNDRE*GE CONTENT.

To put it simply, I was horrified when I first opened the profile to be greeted with Shotacon artwork. Full on artwork of an adult Toji a*saulting a child Gojo. In this artwork, Gojo looks as if he can be no older than 10. Most of the image is censored for obvious reasons, however, part of the screenshot appears in the video above as well. Proving that it cannot have been doctored in any way.

As you can see, the post is tagged with tw sh*ta. For anyone unaware, the definition of Sh*ta is as follows: “Sh*ta is a term used in manga and anime fandoms to indicate sex involving an under*ge boy.” (Fanlore.org) Aka, CP.

It is disgusting to see someone who I once enjoyed, once trusted, interact with literal cp. Drawing or not, the effect of it is still massive. Viewing children (ANYONE UNDER*GE) in a sexual nature is harmful to everyone. It breaches past dark content into something horrible. Something dangerous.

I felt sick seeing someone be as brazen as to repost a picture of a child being a*saulted. To get off on it. It is p*dophilic. That is the only way it can be put.

Further on this, he has written smut of, in his words, “not necessarily under*ge” Suguru in highschool. There is a whole thread on it on his profile, however, I will not be showing it here. The screenshot below describes the nature of the whole post from his own words.

When I first read “not necessarily under*ge”, my first and only question was literally, what the fuck does that mean? Either he is under*ge or not. There is not some fuzzy grey area coating the world between adults and children.

But sure, give him the benefit of the doubt. That does not excuse him liking multiple posts tagged with under*ge content. The most recent being less than an hour ago. Posts censored to the best of my ability below.

These posts all point to the same thing. The disgusting, undeniable truth that this man is attracted to under*ge content. Content depicting minors in sexual scenarios. Content that no member of society should ever consume. He is a p*dophile. For viewing this content of his own accord. For liking it, for reblogging it. For creating it on his own. He is a disgusting person.

FOLLOWING MINORS.

Him interacting with content like that above, consuming it in any capacity at all makes him unsafe to be around. For anyone. Especially minors.

Even though his blog is 18+, even though he preaches that minors should stay away from his blog. He still found himself following a 16 year old. Becoming mutuals with them. The fact this person is 16 is clearly displayed on their blog as well (in their pinned post).

Screenshots shown below. The individual’s user is censored out as, once again, they are a minor and I don’t feel they should have to be wrapped up in this mess.

Once again, Ezra is someone who preaches about minors staying out of adult spaces. Multiple times he has complained on his blog about minors following him and having to block them. You would think he does the same and would be more careful about curating his online spaces, however it he fails to do that.

I don’t believe this can be boiled down to a simple case of missing the age in their bio— this user has their age in their pinned post, as well as their about me. Along with the sexualisation of minors prevalent on his Twitter, it makes me extremely uncomfortable to know that he is following a minor in any capacity. I’m sure it would make anyone.

SEXUALIZING EDS AND SH.

To end the laundry list of posts on his twitter, we have him writing smut glorifying eds, as well as liking posts depicting sh in a sexual light. As always, screenshots are shown below, censored to the best of my ability.

In the post listed above, Suguru is described in a way that is hard to stomach. While it is not nearly as bad as everything else stated above, I feel it is still necessary to include, especially because in this pairing he has often described and implied Suguru to be a minor. There is a line and he has crossed it several times, this is just another example of such. Serving as the cherry on top to further demonstrate his mindset.

Dark content and discussion of these subjects in fiction are not the problem. The disturbing part of this is that Ezra often uses these tropes within his min*r/adult sexual fantasies, and when paired with the sh*ta and under*ge content, leaves a very poor taste in the mouth. It comes across as not only a gross f*tishization, but a gross f*tishization of taking advantage of a minor that way.

A DISCUSSION ON THE LIMITS OF DARK CONTENT.

In this section, I feel that it is important to touch on how dark content plays into all of this. I’d like to expressly state that this is NOT a condemnation of dark content or its consumption.

Dark fiction and dark content are a fine line. It’s a fantastic tool for exploring taboos and emotions or experiences that aren’t often talked about openly. DC creates what is essentially a safe space for exploring things that are not typically done or seen in the real world, with the knowledge that writing or engaging with it does not necessarily mean condoning it. That being said, this callout post is NOT about being anti-dc. Dark content is a literary or artistic tool. Keeping all of this in mind, to actively engage with sh*ta content in which a character is depicted sexually not only as a minor, but as a child, and to be sexually aroused by that image is the definition of p*dophilia. Writing or drawing children and engaging with that content in a sexual capacity is p*dophilia and at the very least, has p*dophilic tendencies. This is not dark content, this is p*dophilia.

It is one thing to write or create dark fiction between adults for the purpose of gratification or exploration of social dynamics and it is entirely another to engage with art of a child engaging in sexual acts with an adult for (seemingly) the intent purpose of sexual gratification. Everyone draws their own line, but it is also important to acknowledge that there are some depictions of taboo subjects that border (if not fully step-into) harmful, p*dophilic content that perpetuates behavior and mental tendencies that truly are dangerous.

To engage with a drawing of a child and a full grown adult in sexual acts for the purpose of sexual gratification is incredibly fucked up. And the fact that minor and adult p*rnography are not just common, but dominating Ezra's twitter page, should be an absolute red flag. It’s okay to acknowledge that dark content is a medium for fiction while also acknowledging that there are some ways of engaging with it that are harmful, especially when it is so glaringly obvious that the content is between a child and an adult (the art I am talking about specifically really is a child. I don’t urge anyone to look at it, but it is gojo depicted as a child of maybe 8 - 10 years old. I’m not using the term child as an umbrella term for minors here).

The problem, stated very plainly, is that the post/s he is engaging with are sexual depictions of a child with the purpose of sexual gratification. That’s the point here. It’s not the dark content, but rather that he is retweeting posts depicting a child of about 8-10 engaged in sexual acts and created for the purpose of sexual gratification.

Once again, this is not a condemnation of dark content. Dark content can be used in so many valuable ways— facing trauma, dealing with taboo subjects, exploring the literary world in a safe and healthy way. As someone who actively consumes dark content, I will be the first to tell you this. However there should always be limits to the types of content produced. Gaining any kind of gratification from looking at a child being a*saulted is disgusting. It is p*dophillic. Especially when he actively engages with minors on his platform.

This is not a conversation of morals— which side is right and wrong. But rather a conversation about the safety of children. This is not a conversation about ageing up as that is not what he is doing. The characters being depicted here are not being aged up, rather are being depicted as minors, or literal children being used for the sexual gratification of adults.

The issue here is a p*dophile. Not dark content. Not anything else.

CONCLUSION.

I’ll be honest, post was extremely hard for me to create. Discovering that someone I once thought was close to me is this kind of person feels disgusting and abhorrent. I honestly wish I never had the displeasure of meeting them in the first place.

Hopefully, by the end of this post you are able to see the kind of person Ezra really is. I could not be silent about this. I knew that the moment all I found all of this out. This post has been very difficult for me to write, but I hope by the end of it some good will come. Some people will be able to avoid interacting with this man.

I believe Ezra needs professional help, and truly hope that he is able to get it some day soon.

Please be careful with who you interact with on the Internet. Adults and minors alike, there are predators everywhere. Please try your best to stay safe in your own online spaces. All of the love in my heart goes out to anyone who has survived child expl*itation. I hope for nothing but the best for you in the future.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this post. I know it is long and triggering for most people. I hope you all have wonderful days and try your best to take care of yourself.

Listed below are some important numbers I would like to bring awareness to before this post is over.

National Child Ab*se Hotline (USA): 1-800-422-4453

National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (USA): 1-800-843-5678

The National Sexual A*sault Hotline (USA): 1-800-656-4673

Childline (UK): 0800-1111

International Child Helpline: 116-111

TLDR: Ezra has a Twitter account where he retweeted artwork of a child gojo being a*saulted by an adult toji. He liked as well as created posts depicting under*ge characters (literally tagged with ‘under*ge’). All while being mutuals with a 16 year old on tumblr.

Tags used to try and spread awareness. I tried to mostly include fandoms that he is in.

UPDATE: lmfao, he has since deleted the retweet of sh*ta gojo after he was called out. Literally proving that it was him.

#jjk x reader #tokyorev x reader #bluelock x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #toji x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #itadori x reader #choso x reader #mahito x reader #megumi x reader #nobara x reader #jjk fanart #nanami x reader #tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #baji x reader #hanma x reader #rin x reader #sae x reader #isagi x reader #tw discourse #saintsugu

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons

As much as dear Lucy and reader enjoyed themselves in this headcanon post, I can't help but imagine such activities might lead to Charlie become a big sister, so I put some headcanons together for such a situation. I know that Sinners can't get pregnant as canon currently stands, so I typically employ either the Rules of Fanfic or I imagine reader is a living human that ended up in Hell through magic shenanigans (will elaborate with a prompt post once I've got the spoons), though of course you're free to imagine them as Hellborn or whatever suits your fancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He's insistent you see the Royal Physician as soon as you start experiencing symptoms, but he's not at all prepared for the diagnosis you bring back, and he might need you to repeat it a few dozen times. You're pregnant? With a baby? And it's his? He put a baby in you? You're going to have his baby? An actual baby? He's going to be a dad again?! So goes the conversation for a good ten or so minutes, and suffice to say he's far from calm once the news finally does sink in. Given that the two of you had assumed that an angel and a mortal couldn't reproduce, this is more than an unexpected surprise, and Lucifer knows all too well how much of a fuss this will create from Hell's lowest ring all the way up to Heaven. That's to say nothing of how Charlie might take the news...

- Once the initial panic fades, after a solid hour or so, he gathers himself and focuses on setting a course of action. A very important decision needs to be made. He says it's up to you, but upon being asked what he'd like to do, the King of Hell surprises himself and answers without hesitation that he'd love to have this baby with you. He's surprised because he knows better than anyone that it will be challenging, but he can't deny how much he wants it regardless. Having Charlie was the greatest thing he'd ever done, and the thought of another little bundle makes his heart swell in ways he can barely describe, but ultimately he'll support whatever decision you make. Carrying a half-Archangel is no easy feat... Hearing that you want the same and intend to carry through is enough to make him lift you clear off the ground in a spinning airborne embrace, wings fluttering like a hummingbird as he breaks out into a celebratory musical number or two. He can't wait to be a dad all over again!

- If you thought he pampered you before, you were wrong. He doubles the amount of servants at your call, ensures there's always a physician available at a moment's notice, and hires a full team of chefs to cook whatever you might crave at any hour of the day. From beginning to end, he doesn't want you to want for anything, and the man knows a thing or two about spoiling, and he goes all out to ensure you're surrounded by comfort at all times. That's to say nothing of his own personal dedication to more or less worshiping your existence. Even the tiniest indication of pain or discomfort has him leaping to your assistance. Backrub? Footrub? Full body massage? You name it, he's quite happy to provide. If it wasn't such a cliche he'd be rather happy to feed you grapes from a golden platter. His efforts are borne from the deep sense of pride he feels every time he looks at you and thinks of how incredible it is that he's with you, that you're carrying his child, and that the two of you are bringing something quite wonderful and unique into existence. Said pride fully extends to the public view, where he doesn't hesitate to show you off and humbly brag to anyone that will listen about the news.

- You'll also find that as protective as he was before, he doesn't even hesitate to get his fangs out now, not that many in Hell are stupid enough to mess with the King's beloved. He expects you to be treated with the highest levels of respect, and if he can't accompany you somewhere, he'll insist on an armed escort to keep you safe. This fear isn't completely unfounded, as there are some willing to risk everything for an upper hand on Lucifer, but he's got ample experience keeping the opportunists at bay. He did the same when Lilith was expecting Charlie.

- Speaking of Charlie, the only thing that gives him any kind of hesitation is his fear that she might take the news poorly. Though she took your relationship well, what if she isn't thrilled about a younger sibling? With their relationship so recently repaired, he fears she might worry about being replaced or pushed aside, and he doesn't know how to reassure her that nothing will ever make him love her less. Thankfully, with her boundless kindness and eternally upbeat personality, the Princess of Hell puts his worries to rest as soon as she gets the news. In fact, she reacts much the same way her father did; a massive hug and a delighted musical number, albeit with far more happy sobbing. She promises through tears that she'll be the best big sister Hell has ever seen, and that she simply can't wait.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer fluff #lucifer headcanons #hazbin x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #pregnancy #charlie morningstar

[cbartonscoffee]

I think I've never been more aware of just how many people only get their info of the batfam through fanfic. I finally started reading Red Robin (2009) and I can not believe how many things are blown out of proportion. Particularly about Dick and Damian.

First of all, Dick does try to put limits and he does get fed up with Damian's ways sometimes. Out of the three first interactions of them in the comic, at least in two he tells him to shut up. And one of those is when Damian starts to brag about being Robin and Tim being useless, he tells him to shut up twice.

Another thing about that moment, is that they treat it like Dick completely dismisses Tim and treats him as unimportant. He doesn't. He takes him seriously, he tells him he needs him, he tells him he views his as an equal, as someone capable. And he also tells him he's concerned about him and that he needs to start processing Bruce's death. Could that have been a little harsh? Yes, but he needed to do it without making Tim think there was room for him to be convinced about his theory because let's be honest, Tim would've taken anything less than complete refusal and tried to change his mind. And had he been wrong neither of them could have taken it.

Secondly, Dick is always left to shoulder the blame of kicking Tim out and of never reaching out. That's bull. And I need to make that clear. Tim was in a delicate point, he tells us this himself multiple times, but the decision to leave was completely made out of his own free will. Another thing he did was put space between him and the people on Gotham. We see only one time in which Dick tries to call him. Tim picks up and tells him he doesn't want to talk. This tells us that Dick respecting Tim's wish of space included almost no (or even no) contact, and Dick calling was not something Tim appreciated or encouraged.

Now. Going into the second year of the run, when he's back in Gotham, there's a few things to talk about and I'm still in the aftermath of Damian and Tim's fight.

I feel it's important to say that even if they are all family, more often than not they're doing their own thing. Like, Babs and Steph are in the Batcave while Dick and Damian are in Wayne Tower, Cass is said to potentially be in Hong Kong and we haven't even heard Jason be name-dropped except for the fact that he went on a rampage at some point.

So, Dick is immediately called away in League business. So he isn't there. Damian is behaving fairly civil besides being a brat, so no one wastes too much effort in correcting what he says. We need to think about the fact that this is a kid whose world was turned upside down multiple times in a short period of time, who has a need to be accepted, and who hasn't yet found his place. All this is to say, that if it's difficult to get him to eat breakfast there's no way they're controlling his every move and that's understandable.

So Dick is away, Damian is still trying to adapt, Alfred has his hands full and everyone else is doing something else.

The whole thing starts because Tim is being kind of cryptic about what he's doing with his hit list and Damian feels left out and goes looking for more. He finds his name in a hidden double side of the hit list marking him as a threat. He understandably feels hurt and angry, because he's a kid, and he's trying, and his predecessor who at this point doesn't even try with him anymore views him as something bad.

So in classic Damian fashion, he falls back on his upbringing and doesn't deal with the situation as one should, talking about it. Instead he cuts team line, hurting before being hurt. It could've been worse, we see in the panel that Tim doesn't have that much of a hard time getting safely to the ground. The problem is that he snaps and starts a full-blown fight he knows Damian won't back out off. (I'm pleased to add that after cutting his line Damian doesn't start anything else)

So they are fighting, Tim has the clear advantage and he knows this, we know this. And that's how Dick finds them. Having just returned from a JL mission, in the place where the Waynes were murdered, with Tim having overpowered Damian.

They go back to the cave and Damian shares his findings, and Dick understands. And Tim tells him he (Dick) knows why he (Tim) did it. Dick agrees, and tells him he should have tried to make it harder to find. Tim says he hadn't thought Damian would try or even care. Dick tells him Damian wants to be accepted.

All in all, so far the only thing this comic has proven to me is that there's a reason comics are the bomb and that fanon has gotten out of hand. I get making things out to be worse for the sake of a story, but everything surrounding these events is basically used as the foundation for Damian and Tim's relationship as well as Dick and Tim's and I don't think I've once read a fanfic where these events are portrayed correctly or even following the real motivations of the characters. This is a disservice to all of them and only serves to amplify the hate towards a character that doesn't deserve it. There's a lot of Damian hate going around. And it sucks. Mostly because people use his actions against Tim to justify it and honestly? I don't think you should be allowed to use that if you haven't read RR and understood what was going on.

#batman #dc comics #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #red robin 2009 #dc #batfam #batfamily #stop the damian wayne hate #and the dick grayson hate for that matter #and please try to differentiate canon and fanon #and get at least an idea of the source material

[snowsinterlude]

overprotective, lovesick, deranged.

(yandere coriolanus x reader)

summary: your ex boyfriend couldn't seem to let you go.

if i can't have you, no one can.

trigger.warning: yandere coriolanus, obslove (obsessive love), stockholm syndrome, drugging (no its not for sexual purposes), pregnancy, marriage, horror, depictions to murder (explicit), dubcon, p in v, cockwarming, extremely toxic behavior, unhinged coriolanus, this fanfic contains extreme toxic behavior and too much blood, if uncomfortable with that content, please, don't read it.

"This might get a little messy, I'm sure.

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's any-anything for you my dear, I promise"

overprotective.

coriolanus snow was a man of ambition; one of those who won't quiet down until the moment he had what he wanted. this was something that happened to the women he got involved with too.

lucy gray baird was one of those. the moment your now ex-boyfriend was sent to district 12 you could tell something was wrong. you could not care less, though. he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and in your most honest opinion it was something good.

when he came back you were with a different man; one named valentine, who stayed with you when you saw coriolanus kissing lucy gray. who comforted you during this time and who hugged you everynight when the thunders during rain times echoed so hard that made you feel like being killed by one of those.

valentine, who's head was decapitated in front of you.

coriolanus, who was smiling to you as he opened the 'gift' he had prepared to you.

you, who couldn't help but throw up at the sight of your dead boyfriend. you, who passed out by the sick sight of his decapitated head, his eyes opened by strings of a red line, needled carelessly. the same eyes who used to look at you with so much affection and love, now weren't looking at you at all.

when you woke up, your hands were tightly wrapped up in a tight knot that he learned to do as a peacekeeper. strung up reasons.

"good morning, my love." he smiled, kissing your forehead. you were still in the kitchen, dressed in a white dress, you didn't remember putting it on. you didn't like the fabric nor the color of white- it would always get stained too easily. "you finally woke up."

you didn't had to think much to know that what happened wasn't a dream. it was real. he killed your boyfriend.

you opened your mouth, and the scream you left was enough for him to slap you across the face. once you begun to cry, he kneeled in front of you, hands cupping your face as you shaked.

"it's okay baby, snow's here for you,"" he kissed your face, making you melt into crying as hard as you could, sob after sob making your doll heart heavy. "remember you used to call me snowflake?" he asked, and you nodded cowardly, afraid of saying anything that might make him furious. "i'm still your snowflake."

and he hugged you, caressing your scalp as you ugly cried in front of him, but to him, you would never look ugly.

lovesick.

with your face pressed against the mattress, you stared at the gigantic mirror that covered an entire wall, watching yourself.

it's been three months since valentine died, and two months since snow untied you, carried you like a princess bride and bathed you, always murmuring the waltz that played when you both met.

maybe it wasn't so bad after all. he took extra care of you, never slapped you again- it was a relapse. he took care of the red slap mark in your cheek, apploed ointment on you everyday, prepared your favorite meals and left you to your own peace, let you mourn the death of that pathetic boy you decided to date.

it wasn't his fault, right? no- it was. why the hell were you thinking that the victim was the one to put to blame for their own death? are you dumb?

well, you aren't- but you're starting to become.

why were you smiling at him as he showed you the dress he brought you? why did your heart flutter when he made you desserts? c'mon now, he killed your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend?

he wasn't there to protect you now, was he? why would he be important in anyway? of course, he was the sweetest to you, never questioned when you moaned coryo's name instead of his, he knew how hard it was to you.

for fucks sakes, what were you doing? what were you thinking?

coriolanus entered the room he made to you after three knocks, a tray with golden white details on his hand, with two toasts, less than a dozen pancakes that he knew you liked, a cup of strawberry juice and a small bow of green grapes.

once you ate at least half of it and drink the juice, he was by your side, caressing your hair.

"bunny?" he called, taking you off your own state of blankness.

"yes?"

"do you hate me?" you wanted to say yes. wanted to spit on his face for asking such a dumb question after holding you hostage and killing your boyfriend, you truly wanted to.

but you didn’t. "no," and maybe you didn't hated him at all. maybe that juice with the truth-telling pill didn't had much of an effect on you

"hm." he hummed, lips curling into the pretty smile he had. "it's good to know that."

he put the tray aside, laying by your side. why have you been laying like a sick woman at it's death bed? ah. yeah, he didn’t liked the idea of you going away, he said he didn’t want you to leave him. how cute.

you smiled at the thought. then you had to gather all the senses you had left to scold yourself.

it didn't last long though, the moment his hands found your hips and started grinding on you, you felt aroused. you shouldn't be, this was the man that killed your boyfriend. this was the man who slapped you. this was the man who didn't let you go around the house with the excuse that he didn’t want you to leave him.

but of course, your cunt didn't had the same thought that you did. so, by the amount of teasing and the way his soft, slender fingers found your clit almost immediatly, you couldn't help but moan and grind back, feeling as if you were humiliating yourself.

"s-stop that, coryo. please." you said. "i'm still mourning valentine's death-"

"i'm sorry, dove, but your pussy doesn't seem to agree with that." and he rolled your nightgown up, pulled his pants down and finally his dick was grinding against your wetness, the tip teasing your clit as he didn’t went inside, why he wasn't going inside? you needed him in.

your breath hitched at the thought, your hand gripping the sheets as he slowly thrusted, but never inside of you.

"tell me, dove, do you want it in?" he asked, his index finger teasing your clit.

"n..no, i-i don't-" he chuckled at your own lies, you felt like laughing too, the exact moment he kissed your shoulder you had to close your own lips, aware that you would end up smiling at him.

"i don't think you don't want it. tell me, baby, what do you want exactly?"

your breath hitched, you could feel how harder your nipples were compared to before. you shouldn't be wanting this. and you knew that. but you loved him so much.

"y-you. please, i'm sorry, coryo." what were you sorry about? you didn't do anything wrong other than mourn and cry.

"you're forgiven, baby. now, just let me enter you, okay?" you nodded. you were pathetic, that nod was pathetic, looking at you in the mirror was pathetic, seeing how you surrendered so easily to his touch was pathetic- the fact that you were ovulating was pathetic. the fact he knew you were fertile was psychotic, and mostly pathetic cause it was you who let him know about it when you were both dating.

you slurred a long and low moan out of your mouth, your eyes closed shut the second your walls were slowly stretched by his dick, it wasn't as painful as the first time, but you felt like being ripped apart.

dubiously, you let his dick kiss your uterus like never before. you felt so ridiculous when his dick went further into you, when your warm walls squeezed his dick into you, when your pussy felt like gushing and you cockwarmed him with pleasure, and you fucked him back, moving your hips almost like you didn't want him to see you moving.

"you would look so good pregnant, don't you think, baby?" he asked, his hand going upwards and abandoning your clit to pass on your belly. "you'd be so pretty. more than you are already"

you shook your head, panic taking over you.

"p-please, coryo. don't do it, not inside, please. not inside" of course, he didn’t even cared about your mewls, thrusting harder into you, earning a bunch of moans out of your mouth, your voice echoing as he spread your legs and made you look into the mirror to see the mess you were.

your boobs bouncing out of your nightdress, your pussy beautifully welcoming his dick inside your cunt, his balls slapping against your clit due to the pose, and the more you concentreated on the pleasure, you were closer to cumming.

"yeah, keep squeezing me like that, dove" he said into your year, sucking on your neck. you moaned as an answer "i'm gonna fuck my baby's into you."

you squeezed him too tightly, your pussy gushing around him before finally cumming. too good, too good. were all that you could think of.

"such a pretty girl, baby. you will be such a good mom." he said, finally cumming inside of you, the hot seed flowing inside you and leaking a bit.

you turned to see his face, recieving a kiss that you promptly deepened.

you were doomed.

deranged.

his grandma'am was the one to acompany you to the altar. the entire panem was there or outside waiting to see the marriage of the new president snow.

you smiled at him under the veil, your swollen round belly being the one that claimed attention more than anything. you were in fact a beautiful mom, carrying his twin girls in your heart and stomach.

you still loved him after all, who would know?

not even him expected you to say yes, not in the marriage, not at the proposal, and not at any other situation, specially when he was impregnating you.

"do you, mr. snow, accept mrs. y/n as your wife?" the priest asked, a sweet smile on his elderly lips.

"i do."

"and you, mrs. y/n, accept mr. snow as your husband?" he asked to you, and you smiled, cherry lipstick covering your lips.

"i do."

you caved your own grave, and you knew it. but if you died, you would take him with you.

that's what love is about.

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas smut #coriolanus smut #yandere #obslove #obsessive love #x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #young coriolanus snow #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x you #x reader

[seunmong-in]

🌅Sunsets in Sydney🌅

Genre: Fluff, childhood best friend to lovers, Idol! Felix x Reader, Humor, slight cursing, she fell first but he fell harder. 

Words: 2.1k 

Summary: After being on tour for a whole year, Felix is finally back in Sydney for a well-deserved break. While he is ecstatic to be with his family again, there’s one person who he wants to see most. His childhood best friend and crush, Y/N. 

A/n: Okay, can I start this off by saying, Holy crap… Thank you to all who like or reblogged my first fanfic with Han!! ( click his name if you wanna read it ! ) I honestly thought it wasn’t that good since I wrote it in a very sleep-deprived state, lol. But y’all proved me wrong🥹❤️‍🩹 That said, I hope you guys also like this story with Felix! Like always, if you have any feedback or want to make a special request just DM me!! Here’s also my latest one with Seungmin as well 🫶🏼

P.S Does anyone else have “that’s not very nice” stuck in their head too?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

365 days. 

That's how long Felix has been away from the place he calls home. And no, he doesn't mean his actual home back in Sydney. He means being away from his childhood best friend, Y/n. 

Felix and Y/n have been best friends since grade school. They have always been there for each other, from performing in talent shows to caring for each other when one falls ill. They are like two peas in a pod; wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow.

On the day Felix had to tell Y/n that he was leaving Sydney to become an idol in Korea, he broke down crying. He was worried that being thousands of miles away from his closest friend would strain their relationship. As he was about to board the plane, he turned around to see Y/n waving goodbye to him with tears streaming down her face, and he couldn't help but cry, too.

Surprisingly, Felix and Y/n's friendship didn't end after that day. Instead, their bond grew even stronger. Y/N would constantly update Felix through text or calls, sharing the details of her day and making sure he didn't miss out on anything important. While Felix enjoyed receiving these updates, what he loved most was the pictures his mom would send him of Y/n with his family on small family trips. Seeing her smile and taking selfies with his sisters always warmed his heart.

He had already surpassed the stage of simply developing feelings for Y/n. Felix adored her. He loved her. Whenever he watched a video of a couple on TikTok or Instagram, he imagined how to recreate the same videos with Y/n by his side. His heart skipped when Y/n surprised him at one of his earlier concerts with Olivia and Hannah, Chan's sister. The memory of her dancing his part of God's Menu while Hannah danced Chan's part on the big screen was something he would never forget. Since that night, Felix had been planning to confess his love to Y/n, and he decided to do it under the sunset in Sydney.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽

Under the hot summer sun, Felix's freckled face is lit up with a big smile as his family rushes to greet him. Olivia is the first to embrace him, screaming, "Oh my God, do you even know how I miss you, Lix?!"

Felix laughed, embracing his youngest sister and repeating, "I miss you more." He noticed that Olivia had grown a bit since the last time he saw her and that her hair was now dyed at the ends. Noticing her brother staring at her hair, Olivia mentioned that Y/N did it a few days ago at one of their usual girls' nights. His mom and dad were the next two to hug him tightly, with his mom shedding a few happy tears.

"I say this every time, but I am so happy to have my baby back home."

Felix wraps his arms around his mom, hugging her as he says, "I am happy to be back home to Mom."

Felix was sitting in the back of a car, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Y/n. He was waiting for her message, asking if he had reached home safely, but he had yet to receive any message from her. Although this was unusual, he assumed she might be busy.

Suddenly, Olivia abruptly interrupts Felix's train of thought, "So, are you finally going to ask Y/n to be your girlfriend while you're here, or are we still sticking to the whole 'she's just my best friend' excuse?" The unexpected question catches Felix off guard. His face turns red with embarrassment as his mother turns her head around from the passenger seat, waiting for a response.

Avoiding eye contact with his mother and sister, Felix clears his throat, allowing himself to find the right words.

"Um.. what makes you think I even have feelings for her?"

Olivia stares at her older brother, scolding him with his earlier response, "Felix be so fucking for real right now. It's obvious you have feelings for Y/n. You look at her as if she is your whole world, your face lights up with a smile whenever she texts you, and you always seem to find a way to talk about her when we talk on the phone. If that doesn't scream, "I am in love with my best friend," then I don't know what does. Oh, and before you go and argue with me about this, even the boys agree that you are completely strung up on her. So do us all a favor and tell her how you feel, will you?"

Felix sighs as he looks up to see his sister's gaze. He knew he had to come clean now before his plans got ruined. 

"Have I mentioned how much I dislike you sometimes, Liv?"

"Yeah, but I'm your favorite sister, so start spilling before I call Hyunjin and have him tell Y/n to you." 

During the last five minutes of their car ride, Felix confided in his family about his plan to ask Y/n out when they reached the house. He made them promise not to say anything to Y/n about his plan since he wanted to create a memorable and private moment between them.

As Felix's father pulled into the driveway, Felix noticed Y/n's car parked across the street. His heart raced as he jumped out of the car, ignoring his mother's yelling about not going inside yet. 

Felix barges through the main door and stops when he sees the handmade "Welcome Home Lixie" banner that Y/n was struggling to put up. He chuckles softly and leans by the living room doorway, watching as she gets on her tiptoes to hook the string onto the nail.

"You know, I could've helped you put up the banner, sunshine if you would've waited a little longer."

Y/n turns around to find Felix smirking. Blushing, she runs to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Trying not to cry on his shoulders, Y/n ever so softly whispers, "You have no idea how much I missed your hugs, Lix."

"Me too, sunshine, it's been way too long."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

After returning home and having dinner early, Felix went upstairs to his room. There, he discovered a welcome-home basket in the center of his bed. The basket contained his favorite candies, face masks, a small chicken plushie, and gift cards to his preferred places. Felix smiled, realizing that it was a gift from Y/n. She was always the type to spoil others with gifts, even if it was a small occasion. Looking through the gifts in the basket, he heard a soft knock on the door, and Y/n walked in. When Felix looked up at her, they locked eyes for the second time that day. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and after a while, Y/n was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you like it; I saw it on Tiktok late last night and thought I should make you one."

"I love it a lot; thank you, sunshine." 

He gives her a soft smile and motions for her to sit with him on the bed. She walks over and sits beside him, watching him unwrap more gifts. Y/n can't help but laugh as Felix brings the chicken plushie up to his face, jokingly asking, "Do you think it looks like me?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I feel like I am going betray BbokAri, so I must lie and say no."

Felix and Y/n laugh as Felix places the plushie back on the shelf behind him. The room lights up in a golden hue, indicating the sun is about to set. Without wasting more time, Felix takes Y/n's hand and leads her out of his room and towards his car.

"Lix, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I was hoping we could watch the sunset together again, just like we did as kids. It's been quite some time since the last time we did, and let's face it, we're not getting any younger. Before we know it, we'll be as old as old man Chan."

""I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, laughing as she follows him to his car. They both jump in and drive to the nearby beach.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

As the car pulled onto the sandy shore, Felix practically flew out of his side to open the door for Y/n. She beamed with delight as she stepped out, feeling the warm sand under her toes. Felix swiftly closed the car door and took her hand, leading her towards the beach. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues as the sun descended below the horizon.

"I forgot how pretty the sunset could be when you can see the reflection on the water."

"I know, but it's even prettier with you beside me," Felix responds. 

Y/n stands before Felix, unsure if he is joking or serious. He chuckles as she becomes flustered.

"You know that's not very nice."

"What isn't sunshine?"

"You saying that to me and not explaining what you mean," Y/n states as she turns away from him. 

Felix grabs Y/n by her waist and spins her, holding her close. Y/n's face flushes a deep shade of pink as she catches her breath. They've been close for years, but something feels different about this moment. There's a palpable tension in the air, a feeling of unspoken love that's hard to ignore. Felix looks deep into Y/n's eyes, examining how the sun's warm glow illuminates them. The sound of waves crashing against the shore adds to the moment's magic. Fighting the urge to kiss her immediately, Felix takes a deep breath as he stares into her eyes. 

"Do you remember why I decided to return home for a break instead of staying in the dorms with the boys?" Puzzled by his random question, Y/n nods her head, looking back into his dark brown eyes. 

"Of course I do. It was because you wanted to be with your family since you were homesick, Lix."

"You're right. But there's something important that I need to tell you, something that should've been said from the very beginning. Y/n, I like you. I'm in love with you. I love you so much that it hurts not to have you by my side most days or even to call you mine. The night before I left Sydney, I intended to confess my feelings to you, but I knew it was bad timing since I was leaving, and I didn't want to end our friendship. So, I kept it to myself for years. However, seeing you with Liv and Hannah at our concert earlier this year, dancing and singing to our songs, made me realize that what I felt for you was more than just a simple grade school crush. Y/n, I'd be lying if I said you weren't the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because I do. I want you to be mine, my only sunshine. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand..."

Felix was toward the end of his sentence when Y/n suddenly cut him off by pressing her lips against his. It was a bold move, but she had been crushing on Felix for what felt like an eternity and couldn't hold back any longer. When they finally pulled away, Felix looked at Y/n with a knowing smile, pressing his forehead on hers. In a very soft voice, Felix finally finishes his sentence. 

"I cannot imagine spending a single day without you by my side anymore. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be mine forever?

""Until forever stops existing, my love."

#stray kids #straykids imagines #straykids smau #stray kids fake texts #stray kids x reader #straykids fluff #lee felix #lee yongbok #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz smau #stray kids imagine

[incorrectbatfam]

What are their go to conversation starters?

Alfred: Lesson #18 of behaving like a human being: initiating conversations.

Alfred: At a formal event, you are expected to engage with others in an appropriate manner. For this exercise, I want you to pretend I'm a guest and impress me.

Dick: Good evening, sir. I really appreciate you having here. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.

Dick: *smiles and gives Alfred a firm handshake*

Alfred: Excellent job, except one thing.

Alfred, holding up his arm: It was not necessary to take my watch. You're not a mission, Master Dick.

Dick: But what if I am?

Alfred: That's a lesson for another day. Next.

Jason: Now, hypothetically, if a very bad man killed your son, wouldn't YOU—

Alfred: That's enough. Next.

Tim: My name's Tim and I'm afraid of wasps because they have a photographic memory of all who wronged them.

Alfred: Dismissed. Next.

Damian: *walks away to play with the dog*

Alfred: We'll come back to him. Next.

Duke: Wanna beta-read my Luke Fox Final Fantasy MMA AU fanfic?

Cullen: Wanna beta-read my Destiel Superhell fix-it fanfic?

Alfred: Next.

Steph: Last night I dreamt I was a waffle, but I was also the plate and the fork and myself eating the me-waffle.

Alfred: That's disturbing, next.

Cass: *stares*

Alfred: You are supposed to say something.

Cass: Something.

Alfred, sighing: Next.

Barbara: Hi, I'm Barbara. You must be Alfred, right? How are you liking the party?

Alfred, acting: I'm enjoying it very much, thank you.

Barbara: Okay, so you didn't notice me remotely disabling an army of robot cockroaches. Phew!

Alfred: We were so close. Next.

Harper: Can you believe it? Some asshole disabled my robo-roaches.

Alfred: For the last time, Miss Harper, no robotic insects at galas. Next.

Carrie: Hello, sir. Can I get you anything?

Alfred, acting: A glass of water would be nice.

Carrie: Sure thing. One cup of locally sourced water, coming right up.

Alfred: Never mind. Next.

Kate: Your daughter is hot.

Alfred: Wrong answer. Next.

Helena: Tell me everything you know about the Maroni family or so help me—

Alfred: Different script, Miss Helena. Please turn to page 67 for gala conversations.

Luke: What does it mean when someone you know sends you their fanfiction about yourself?

Alfred, rubbing his temples: Next, please.

Bette: Head's up!

Bette: *spikes a volleyball*

Alfred, catching it: Next.

Selina: Wanna see pictures of my cats?

Bruce: Wanna see pictures of my kids?

Alfred:

Alfred: I think we should start again from the top.

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #cullen row #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #harper row #carrie kelley #kate kane #helena bertinelli #luke fox #bette kane #alfred pennyworth #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #batfam #batboys #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect dc quotes #dc comics