#and i will dig up an old search or video i watched or email or image from my history

[skyburger]

lately ive been going through my google history when im bored (which is so incredibly entertaining btw. highly recommend) and apparently, after double-checking my camera roll that date & finding proof to support this theory, i did indeed first watch hlvrai on november 4th of 2020. absolutely insane. i thought i hadnt seen it until mid-2021 at LEAST.

shoutsout to my friends who i watched it with at the time half of which i dont talk to anymore... i owe u for getting me into funny half-life series. thank you oomf

WARNING !!! below the read more is a long fucking list of funny* things i found in my camera roll from the week i first watched hlvrai. like not the images themselves just me talking about them. i dont know why i thought that was a good idea but alas i already spent 90+ minutes writing that all out and tbf i did have a good laugh looking at that shit. anyway the warning is because its long as fuck and i'm willing to bet not at all interesting to anyone who isn't me. i think if i talk any more i will ramble for fucking ever so ill shut up. WARNING OVER !!! miami make some fucking NOISE. dj tsumugi.

*please note these were funny to both me in late 2020 (age 15) and me now (older but not at all wiser). what im trying to say is read at your own risk because 90% of this is unfunny as fuck but it could be worse. it could be shit from when i was 12. That would be really bad i think

anyway here are some highlights from my camera roll from like the day before, the day of & the day after "the incident" (me watching hlvrai):

a ridiculous amount of terezi pyrope pictures. i had not (and still have not) ever read homestuck

at least 30 pictures of hugh o'conner. probably more if im being honest with myself

the same few pictures of kokichi ouma? for some reason?

like a lot of pictures of nagito komaeda. there is at least one screenshot where my discord pfp is nagito. Something Happened

vriska and nepeta also make an appearance. the former more so but not nearly as much as terezi for some reason

a lot of screenshots of discord convos involving various hughdebeste aus. some favorites are the homestuck au, the peabody & sherman au(???), the meet the robinsons au(??????), splatoon au

blu and red scout tf2 they have taco bell and kfc shirts respectively?

professor sycamore from pokemon and professor sycamore from layton. there are multiple images of each and theyre right next to each other

screenshots of the homestuck wiki. Concerning

a screenshot of an email i got from nintendo about the special edition fortnite switch releasing

like a lot of screenshots of alfendi layton from when i was playing lbmr. not surprising but theres kind of a ridiculous amount

a picture of alvin (the chipmunk) that just says "WE DID IT"

screenshots of me talking in ridiculous 13375P34K on twitter and being accused of kinning from homestuck. quite frankly? i deserved that

hatsune miku makes a few appearances

many tumblr post screenshots. However i did not take these myself i just saved them from reddit. really ashamed to admit i did this for literal years even when i used tumblr at the same time

picture of professor layton standing in that one pose in that one picture i dont know how to describe it. the "you know i had to do it to em" one

that one bugs bunny suit meme and it says "i wish all boobed men a very pleasant evening". this was apparently important enough for me to save twice like an hour and a half apart

many screenshots of me on discord AND twitter posting quotes from hlvrai as i watched it. this includes on my masked disciple roleplay account

a picture of my danganronpa trilogy for ps4 copy. but its one of those live pictures so when i click on it i get attacked (i had the flash on because i took this picture in the dark)

that one really terrible picture of tommy coolatta thats like the first non-fanart picture of him on google images. thrilled to announce i think thats been the only image on his wiki page for years now

picture of hime & mikoto meika's mmd models. i think they had recently released or been announced at this point

catboy apollo justice & wolf boy klavier gavin gacha life gifs. i think my friend made this (if it was in fact my friend and not someone random this was the same friend who streamed hlvrai and thus changed my life forever btw)

that old meme about not passing [xyz] the aux because theyll play [abc]. it says "Do NOT pass the kinnie the aux / They'll just playin 'Alvvays - Archie, Marry Me (Official Video)'"

screenshots of calendar events i set up celebrating the anniversary of two dgs characters' deaths (genklimt fans rise up!)

screenshot of my real kinlist on my real carrd from 2020. i can tell it was just edited because this screenshot has scribbles on it (i circled the latest addition to my kinlist which is in fact "dr. coomer")

screenshots of me and my oomfs on this one specific anime rp roblox game that i WISH i could remember the name of. it let you import pngs of any character you wanted so we had pictures of ace attorney guys hanging out with madoka girls at some point. this specific instance includes klavier gavin, baby trucy wright, rosie from animal crossing & a blue orb thing(??). we are all incredibly small for some reason

john cena suit gangnam style depression. this is saved multiple times. does anyone else remember this post i used to be obsessed with it for some reason

picture of a historical moment in my life (the day i changed my ps4 username to "TheKokichiOuma" which i have regretted for years now. in my defense it did actually use to be worse than that im so serious. 2018 was a dark time why did i pick the name "DabWeebPolics". Horrific!

screenshot of a string of tweets between me and a friend at the time. the tweets arent actually important except for the first one which reads "these gummy bears taste british i cant explain it". this is only important because i remember these fucking gummy bears and they DID taste british in like the same way heathrow airport feels british you know

this one picture of my chemical romance in a forest(?) but bob looks like my fucking dad at a quick glance and it scares me every time i see it. i saved this multiple times over the course of that day

various pictures my friend made of jove justice being set on fire

the really short businessman with the fuckass bob from the lorax but my oomf edited him to look like kazuma asougi

picture of byakuya togami which is only funny because it has text on top of him that says "I. DO. NOT. GEC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

a single screenshot of a tumblr post about the events of That Day (destiel putin election day.) the only other thing referencing this in my gallery is a screenshot of the trending tab on twitter (the trends are, in order. 1. #TrumpMeltdown 2. destiel 3. #ElectionResults2020)

two paper mario character pngs followed by that one misha collins picture. you know the one

various screenshots of a mishapocalypse happening on twitter

more super paper mario pngs

im going through pictures slightly further out from nov 4th now (i think after i look at nov 2nd & nov 6th ill call it quits). first image i see is that "gay people i respect vs. gay people i dont respect" image and i dont know why i saved that nevermind i scrolled and immediately found i made a dgs meme out of that

phoenix wright BASED ON GAY MANGA?

went through the ace attorney mamboleo person's deviantart that day i think so i have various funny works of theirs saved. i think the average person actually would know them as the stamp on the ground animation person so. Thats them too. on a side note watching that video after you got into metal gear is fucking insane

that mom against cat boys tshirt

a lot of unnoteworthy professor layton & ace attorney & dgs images

ben shapiro on the ace attorney witness stand?

oh im finding out i got really fucking mad at william petenshy that day. iirc i got so fucking annoyed at this case i didnt even finish it i just. skipped it. i wasnt even playing it i was just watching it???

one of those "tag yourself / which mutual am i" posts but all the options are characters from my kinlist. one of the titles is a jfk clone high reference

screenshots of dms to klimt van zieks begging him to drop a kinlist

a screenshot of a friends reply to my tweet (hi doop) which did just remind me of my "damon gant is apollo justice's grandpa" theory. this tweet manages to tie yanni yogi into the family tree

screenshot of a discord music bot playing a youtube video (remember when they could do that?). the video is titled "henry ledore does his taxes for 10 minutes asmr"

apparently i looked at characters i share a mbti with that day. highlights include souseki (the dgs guy. no idea about the real one), ron delite, flora reinhold, pyro tf2, agent 8 (splatoon), n harmonia & my goat DERPY HOOVES

screenshot of part of twitter's trending page. it says that trending in the united kingdom, with at least 3,610 tweets, is "Homosexuals"

screenshots of multiple tweets in a row from me. they all involve me frantically talking about how i really want to kin nagito komaeda even though i know fuck-all about him

various pictures of markiplier (both in real life & in fma)

real screenshot of me unironically saying "mental illness innit" in reference to myself. this was in my twitter dms with my friends klimt van zieks roleplay account which is even worse

original gina lestrade & egg benedict image made by me. if you know the apollo gant image its basically that

okay i lied i went back to nov 1st and i think i'll check nov 7th afterwards. one full week of nonsense. this proved to be a good idea because i immediately found a screenshot of a text to my mom asking her if she kinned gnomeo from gnomeo and juliet. she said yes

possible origin of why i own a boss baby poster: oomf kin-assigned me the boss baby

possibly my favorite example of the twitter feature where it shows you the original tweet and then the last two replies on a long thread of replies to that post. the original tweet is me saying in all caps "i care him so much he is so small" about luke triton (what a 2020 sentence!). the last two replies are from me and then my oomf but i think only the first of the two needs recounting. it says "do you really want to explain vore to your teachers". i know i say i want context a lot but i genuinely do really want context for this what the fuck happened here

oh good! boss baby update: theres a screenshot of my ebay purchase of "BOSS BABY Poster A5"

im on pictures from november 7th now. i think i went through a figures bot that day because i have a frankly ridiculous amount of figures (mostly nendoroids. mostly miku nendoroids.) there's also the default hime & mikoto png in the middle of these

twitter notification screenshot. apparently kristoph gavin ace attorney followed me that day

i think i went and looked through a christian memes subreddit or twitter account or SOMETHING i dont know where else these all came from. this is followed by a staggering amount of facebook minion memes

side note: does anyone else remember the aatwt (ace attorney twitter) & puyo puyo twitter crossover event in the michael's customer service chat incident? that feels like a different universe

this one is really nothing compared to any of this other stuff but i do have proof of me saying "pog" unironically

grand finale to this saga is actually from a couple days after (nov 9th 2020) but after seeing the staggering amount of death the kid images i had saved over like two days (i had watched a couple episodes of soul eater with my pals) i felt compelled to dig up my "death the kid get wifi anywhere you go" fancam. i might post it later cause its a classic (only to me)

thank you all so much for watching remember to like and subscribe and whatever. thank you for reading this if you read it for some fucking reason. i spent just over an hour and a half looking through this shit & typing this but it was a nice walk thru memory lane tbh! im gonna shut up now before i start rambling. feel free 2 ask for the images or context to any of these i literally love rambling. peace and love on planet earth. LOVE YOU ALL!!! GOODNIGHT NEW YORK CITY

[whoatemyshoe]

So Tumblr terminated my account out of nowhere last Sunday and boy when I tell you I almost CRIED thinking I permanently lost this 14 year old blog I’ve painstakingly curated since 2009!! 

Anyway I’d like to share my experience so hopefully this could help anyone who could be facing the same issues and to watch out for the signs.

Before termination:

- I posted a new original gifset, but it didn’t show up on my dashboard, although it was visible on my own blog.

- After some searching and tinkering, I had to remove 2 (very non-explicit) gifs from that post for it to finally show up on my dashboard and tag search. This was last Thursday.

- On Friday, I posted another original gifset, hyperlinked the text to the source video, but noticed it and my other original posts weren’t showing up on tag search, even when it was showing on my dashboard.

- I deleted the post and sent tumblr support an email about my posts not showing up on tag.

- Sent another email the next day about the same issue, and added a screenshot of my missing Messages tab:

- Also noticed that the new reblogs were from other blogs who reblogged my posts, not directly from my own, which means all my original posts were not showing up on tags.

Termination:

- Posted my third original gifset with a link, and when i reblogged it to add another gif, i was logged out abruptly from my account.

- Tried logging back in but was met with this:

- So I did contact support and sent them an email. That was on Sunday.

Post termination:

- While waiting for their response, I did some digging and found out that some people lost their blog permanently, or never got a response from support. I panicked!!

- Also found out that adding links to sites outside of tumblr on your posts makes you suspicious (b0t behaviour)

- Found my blog on the Wayback Machine

- On Tuesday night, they finally reinstated my blog, and replied my email saying that it was a ‘glitch’ on their end.

- So now I’m back and my Messages tab is back, but in order for my original posts to show up on tags again, I have to go to each post, manually delete the existing tags, save the post, then edit the post and add the tags back to the post, then save it.

- So if you notice these signs, your account might have been flagged as spam! Do email support about the issue and avoid linking or posting original content until they resolve the issue for you.

They should get back to you in a few business days (or weeks, depending on ticket volume). Good luck!

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 53 - In the Shadows

Title: Irreverent Pt. 53 - In the Shadows

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~6K

A/N: It’s been so long. Sorry, life happened. Hoping to get back to a more regular posting schedule.

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Derek watches Hotch out of the corner of his eye as he drives as quickly as possible towards Quantico. The news that Easter had resurfaced was the best news they'd had about you and they'd all felt that collective rush of what felt vaguely like hope, flicker through them. It didn't say anything about how you were, and yet, you'd been seated right next to Easter moments before the bomb had gone off. It would stand to reason that if he had survived it, then so had you.

Hotch was staring out the window while Derek storms through traffic, his mind still reeling from everything that they'd all seen. This was worse than Prentiss and Doyle. The image of you, strapped down to a table and begging with them to let you go – that was going to haunt him forever. He could only imagine what it was doing to Hotch. Hotch who, it seemed hadn't taken a real breath since they'd all seen the bomb go off the day before. Who had already been looking worse and was distracted when the two of them had worked out during the last week or so. Whose barometer for handling stressful situations was the highest Derek had ever seen, and yet the past 24 hours had shaken him beyond belief.

Derek had seen the light leave his eyes when the video of the bomb and turned black. Had watched as he tried in vain to get answers as to your whereabouts. Though one thing had bothered him – why hadn't Hotch just asked someone higher up. McKinney had to have some way of getting in touch with you or Easter even if the two of you were working a deep cover. It was only after, at the house when Hotch had left to go sit outside, that he'd voiced his question and Rossi had told him that you'd broken it off. That you hadn't warned Hotch at all, and Strauss had dropped off the paperwork at his desk. Derek had felt himself blanch at that. With the added context of everything Easter had put you through, it made some sense what you'd been trying to do. But Hotch hadn't known that. Not then. The man had spent the last couple weeks living in a house that was a shrine to the two of you, thinking that you'd just ended everything. Derek's not sure how he would take something like that. Would he have the faith to believe it had nothing to do with the two of you? Wait it out until you were back and could explain? He's not sure he'd be cut out for something like that.

He meets Prentiss's eye in the rearview mirror as she's seated in the backseat with Rossi. JJ, Reid, and Garcia had stayed behind to continue digging into the Atlantis files and see what they could find. Garcia was convinced that if you'd left them the email how you had, then there had to be more. You must've left them something else to help them find you.

Prentiss's gaze slips from him, over to Hotch who's seated in the passenger seat, dead quiet ever since he'd informed him that Easter had turned up. Derek doesn't have to ask to know what she's thinking. They're all worried about him. The man was an enigma in the best of times. Now? All bets were off.

Now, after having seen everything that they had, Derek can only imagine the various scenes playing in Hotch's head. The numerous ways he has to be considering just killing Easter with his bare hands. If they didn't need Easter to find you, Derek would help. He had a few ways of his own to help Easter experience even half the amount of suffering he'd made you endure. However, be that as it may, the fact remained that right then, they needed Easter. They couldn't afford to piss him off if they were going to get answers. They couldn't afford to get thrown out of the Bureau or arrested for assaulting him unprovoked.

Derek knows what he would do if something happened to Savannah and he's acutely aware of the depth of what Hotch feels for you. The man smiled around you – had ever since you'd joined. When they'd all worried that he'd become a complete loner and even surlier after the divorce, somehow you'd prevented that from happening. When Haley had died – you'd still been that person for him to go to. Derek knew that in that time, both Hotch and his son had become familiar with the spare rooms at your place. If Derek hadn't known you better, he would've thought the two of you were hooking up a long time ago.

None of them needed to know what the two of you talked about – what you saw in a guy over a decade older than you whose idea of a good time was filling out a case report probably. All they needed to know was that there was something about you that kept Hotch from becoming the worst version of himself. When the two of you had finally gotten together, it had felt like some sort of inevitability to the rest of them. Maybe you hadn't known, but they always had in some way. Even when you were dating other dudes and even when you and Hotch were just friends, they'd all known to some extent.

Derek clears his throat as he pulls into the parking garage leaning back, and turns to Hotch with a concerned expression on his face. "Hotch, you know you can't kill Easter, right? I know you want to, man. Hell, we all do. But you can't. Yeah?" He raises his chin up, confirming if Hotch understood what he was asking, hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel.

Hotch's hands are tightly balled fists on his thighs and Derek exchanges another worried glance with both Prentiss and Rossi as he turns the car off and the four of them exit the vehicle. Hotch still hasn't said anything.

Derek knows that he has to step up. Hotch can't be the one to deal with all of this and still be the guy in charge. As Hotch rounds the car, Derek quickly grabs his arms and lightly pushes him against it to stop him. He meets Hotch's impassive look, as though he wasn't even really bothered by Derek manhandling him like that. "Hotch, I know you want to beat the ever living crap out of that asshole, but he's the best lead we have to her right now. He's the last person we know that saw her. We need to get him to tell us everything that he knows and we need him to help us. You get that, right?" Derek's eyes search Hotch's for understanding, still holding him tight against the car. Behind him, Derek knows that both Rossi and Prentiss are watching, their breath held tight. They all need to know that he understands. It's quiet and tense for a few seconds. Derek watches as he swallows, a harsh breath leaving him as he nods to assure them all that he understands. That he'll keep it together and not commit murder inside a federal building.

Derek looks at him for another beat before releasing him with a quick nod, and the four of them briskly continue towards the elevators and straight up to the floor that McKinney's office is on. Garcia was tracking his visitor badge and had informed them that that was where he had headed only moments before.

*------------*

Derek walks behind Hotch and Rossi, keeping pace with Prentiss as the four of them exited the elevators and headed towards Director McKinney's office. He has an eye on Hotch – they all do.

Rossi brushes them all past McKinney's assistant – Derek remembers you mentioning that her name was Gladys when you'd been searching for a snow globe for her at the airport in New York – despite her protests, insisting that the Director was in a meeting. They knew exactly what meeting he was in. Prentiss takes the assistant aside deftly, explaining that it was an emergency situation and that the Director would surely understand the interruption. Looking past where Prentiss was talking to the woman, Derek sees the mini snow globes lining the shelves on the wall behind her desk. He can just barely pick out the small red one you'd picked out for her, the empire state building and a yellow taxicab at the center. Neither Hotch nor Rossi spare a glance to the assistant as Rossi knocks and then doesn't bother waiting for an answer, quickly opening the door. Both Derek and Prentiss are quick to walk in behind them, before the door shuts in Gladys's disgruntled face.

McKinney looks up from behind his desk, startled at the intrusion. He stands quickly. "What is going on?"

Easter stands too and Derek watches Hotch tensing even more, as if he wasn't wound tight as it were. He shares a quick look with Prentiss, looking around at the room. Neither of them had ever been inside McKinney's office before.

"Walter," Rossi starts, deciding it was best for him to take the lead, "I believe we need to be part of this conversation between you and Agent Easter." He turns towards Easter before continuing. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

Easter stays quiet, deferring to McKinney to intervene.

Director McKinney looks between Easter and the rest of them, his brow furrowing in question. "Dave, I don't know why the BAU is barging in on this meeting – "

"Is she alive?" Hotch interrupts, his eyes focused solely on Easter, who is leaned back on his heels, an odd expression on his face,.

He shrugs in response to Hotch, far too casually for any of their liking. "As far as I know, yeah. She's alive." His posture and tone suggesting that he could care less whether or not you're alive.

"How do we know you don't have her locked up somewhere?" Derek speaks up then. He can't believe anything that came out of Easter's mouth. Not anymore. Not after everything they'd seen.

Easter's eyes narrow at the question but he appears appropriately taken aback. "Why would you think I would have her?" he asks carefully, looking around at all of them, his back straightening ever so much more.

"Because it wouldn't be the first time you locked her up somewhere," Emily retorts, walking up closer to him, past both Rossi and Hotch, her eyes narrowed with barely held hatred and rage. She's looking at her old boss with entirely new eyes.

McKinney seems surprised at that, alerting them to the possibility that he might not be privy to Easter's preferred methods of testing his coworkers. "Agent Prentiss, that is a serious accusation."

"Which can be backed up with proof, Walter." Rossi looks at his former friend who had risen far beyond him from their early days starting out in Bureau training together. Wordlessly imploring him to rely on their shared history and trust him in that moment. The two of them look at one another as McKinney takes stock of the situation at hand. He looks at the four agents standing in front of him and then looks at Easter, whose stance has become far more guarded in the past minute, as though ready to defend himself against any one of them.

McKinney clears his throat and addresses the four of them once again. "Agent Easter was just about to begin briefing me on the most recent developments regarding the assignment that Agent L/N was on. However, the details of the assignment – "

"Director, with all due respect, we are all aware of the details of Project Atlantis. I'm sure that's something we can address at a later point, however I think it might be best if we all speak candidly to understand what exactly is going on here," Hotch interjects, effectively cutting off McKinney's attempt at brushing them all away.

McKinney's eyebrows raise as he's met with the Hotch that Derek is used to. He was in usual form now, after having learned that - at the very least - you're alive. His shoulders are back, he's standing tall, his jaw is tensed – he's in control once more. That was the boss he was used to having in his corner.

McKinney appraises them all once more, all thoughts and feelings on the matter hidden behind an impassive mask. He wasn't the Director of the FBI for no reason. He had to be fuming at how easily Hotch had admitted to them all knowing everything about Atlantis – despite them being warned off from it. Hell, Garcia had nearly been charged with treason for breaking into the files. Now here Hotch was, just admitting they knew all about it.

"Given that my current priority is to ensure that Agent L/N is brought back safe," – McKinney comes out from behind his desk and walks towards the larger conference table at one side of the large room – "I will allow you to stay for Agent Easter's report."

Easter makes a noise of dissent at that, but he's quickly silenced with a look from McKinney, who gestures them all to the table.

"Agent Easter, we have limited resources to spare given the events in Philadelphia. If the BAU is offering itself as a resource, then I believe you would be wise to take them up on it." McKinney stares down Easter as they all grab chairs around the table, Hotch seating himself directly across from McKinney while both Emily and Rossi made sure that Easter couldn't grab a chair beside Hotch.

Easter has a deeply pissed off expression on his face as he looks at them all seated around the table. It was plainly obvious that he'd been counting on having this conversation with McKinney on his won.

However, after a few more seconds and with a deep breath, Easter pulls out a file and puts two photographs – a man and a woman – side by side. "These are Agents Cavanaugh and Novak of the CIA. Their work history is classified, however they both retired and settled down in the east coast under new identities under the charter of Project Atlantis. Last week, they both disappeared and their new identities popped up in a missing persons' report, which was flagged by our systems. L/N and I have been following similar cases across Europe with ex MI6, DGSE, and Interpol agents also under the protectorate of Atlantis. These agents typically end up being sold as counter-intelligence assets to the Chinese, the Russians, you name it. We had been working to figure out how their acquisition and sale was being handled and we were at the jazz club, posing as potential buyers."

Derek shares a look with Emily as they process everything Easter just said. It definitely explained a lot about the level of secrecy around the project and the subsequent reaction to the files being hacked by Garcia. It also implied that the case they had been working on was somehow linked to this, but that was a secondary problem.

At McKinney's nod, Easter continues. "We received a text message asking us to meet outside, which was a change in the original plan. However, we made a calculated decision to comply, and as soon as we stepped out into the back alley, the restaurant blew up and they'd been waiting for us outside."

"Why blow up the restaurant? What does that achieve?" Rossi asks, his fingers interlaced together as he looks at Easter, his forehead knitted together.

Easter offers a vague shrug and grimace. "Not entirely sure. There's a few options – either it was to show us how serious they are. That they don't mind collateral damage nor are they worried about repercussions. Or it was a way to make it seem – "

" – as though you're dead," Emily finishes, following where he was leading.

Easter nods.

"What would that accomplish? Do you think your cover was blown?"

Easter sighs, before looking once more at McKinney, and they all tense, realizing that whatever came next was likely the reason he hadn't wanted them there during this conversation with the Director.

Ignoring Emily's question, Easter continues. "They covered our heads and next thing I know we're tied up somewhere. She was next to me and we were both trying to get out, but not being able to see, we weren't sure what we could do. A man came in and he – he spoke to them, in Greek, I believe. Couldn't understand him. Next thing I know, I can hear them undoing her bindings and taking off the bag on her head."

"But not yours?" Derek questions, a growing feeling on unease creeping in.

Easter shakes his head. "He knew her. She recognized him – called him Uncle Erasmus."

"Erasmus Jansen?" McKinney's eyebrows rise up while the rest of them look on, confused.

"Yes." Easter turns back to the rest of them after answering McKinney's question. "The CIA confirmed, during its investigation, that Jansen was part of her father's organization – he was probably third or fourth in command."

Derek's bad feeling was confirmed and he can see Hotch tensing at that.

"What happened after that?" McKinney asks, giving Easter his utmost attention now.

"Not sure. They left the room. Next thing I know, she's back. Some other guy took the bag off of my head and she was standing in front of me with a gun in her hand."

"They gave her a gun?" Rossi's surprise was plain to hear in his voice.

"Yes. And she shot me. Twice."

The stunned silence in the room was deafening. Derek looks up and meets Hotch's eye, knowing they're both thinking the same thing. You'd shot him. You'd shot him twice. Yet, Easter sat there looking perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him. You don't miss - not if you'd meant to kill.

"You were wearing a vest?" Emily asks, finally breaking the silence.

"Yeah, a thin one. She didn't know I was wearing a vest. She shot me dead center. Knocked me out. By the time I came to, the entire place was cleared out, as if no one had been there at all."

"What are you trying to say, Agent Easter?" McKinney asks, his voice low as he appraises the man seated beside him. His posture has changed, any relaxed manner from earlier gone.

"I'm saying, Agent L/N is the mole. She's been her father's plant from the very beginning."

*------------*

It is pin drop silent in the room after Easter's accusation had thundered through. Derek squares his shoulders and tilts backwards from the table with a silent scoff, his incredulity mirrored by both Rossi and Prentiss. Hotch just seems shocked, as though he couldn't quite believe the turn this entire conversation had taken.

The Director, however, was leaning in towards Easter with a great deal of interest and both Derek and Prentiss note that, exchanging worried looks. Hotch wasn't making eye contact with any of them, still looking just past Easter.

"You believe that Agent L/N has been undercover for the entirety of her tenure with the Bureau?" McKinney's hands are knitted together and placed on the table, his lips pressed tight as he appraises Easter's assertion.

"Everything points towards that, yes. Her family background. The fact that she was recognized by the people who took us. That she shot me at their instruction and left me for dead." Easter's delivery was cool and detached. It almost sounded like he expected you to have been the mole.

"You're alive though," Prentiss reminds him. "She had to have known you were wearing a vest."

There's a silent standoff between the two of them while Derek watches Hotch, processing the gravity of what Easter was implying. If what he was saying was true, then that meant that you had been a plant from the very beginning. That you'd duped them all into picking you to be on the team. That you'd become friends with all of them, been their confidante. Hell, you were in a relationship with their Unit Chief. You slept in his bed. Shared his home. You'd infiltrated all of their lives, all as a front for your father and his business. That was what Easter was insinuating.

Derek was perhaps the only person in the world who had eyewitness testimony to exactly how untrue that was. How unlikely it was that you would ever do anything for your father. How implausible the suggestion of you choosing to do that man's bidding. However, he couldn't exactly share that the sole reason your father was buried six feet under with a bullet in his brain was because of you. You and your raw, unfettered hatred for the man. They'd all kept that under wraps for a reason and now wasn't the time to start blurting out that particular truth.

"The facts are," Easter finally breaks the silence, "she is friendly with the guys that blew up an entire restaurant. She was recognized by them. She was released by them. Instead of helping me and getting us both out, she shot me in the chest. I think it's fair to say that whatever she's doing, her plan isn't to come back."

"If her plan was to not come back, she would've made sure that you were dead," Derek counters, his shoulders set and tone confident. "It doesn't help her to have you running around saying she's the mole. It would've been better if she just killed you and came back the hero that escaped. Keep the cover in place."

If you had wanted Easter dead, there'd be a bullet in his head and not conveniently lodged in the vest he just so happened to be wearing.

"Maybe there was a wrench thrown in their plans. Fact is, she's not here."

McKinney looks at Hotch and the rest of them, contemplating their stance as well as Easter's accusation in tandem. Derek knows that the Director was looking at Hotch differently - putting their whole team under the microscope on the off chance that Easter's accusation was right. Because if it was, it meant that a mole had infiltrated the FBI, right under the noses of the Bureau's top profilers. The idea was ridiculous. No one could pull off a deception like that - not to the degree that Easter was accusing you of. Hell, even Prentiss had only lasted a year as Doyle's fake girlfriend.

"Y/N is not a mole," Hotch asserts quietly to McKinney, speaking up for the first time since Easter's preposterous accusation. Derek can feel the restraint in his tone, the calm sureness of his statement. It radiated sincerity and that he has to admire that. In the face of this kind of scrutiny, when you'd given him nothing to hold onto, he still had that kind of faith in you. "I can guarantee that."

McKinney looks carefully at Hotch, and it's plain to see that he's weighing both sides carefully – Easter's accusation brought out of months of working together, only to be shot by you. Or so he claimed. Or his own team of profilers with an excellent history of being right. Derek can just begin to see McKinney start to nod, when Easter decides to inject his opinion in.

"Well, let's just say I'm not comfortable taking the word of the guy whose dick she's been wetting this whole time," Easter jabbed with an eyeroll, his face contorted with derision.

Derek was on his feet in an instant. "Watch your mouth!" Both Prentiss and Rossi had retorted as well, their words drowned out as Derek turned to look at Hotch again, who had remained seated. His jaw was tensed completely, a tick there the only evidence that he'd heard what Easter had said. The restraint on that man was unreal.

McKinney quiets everyone quickly and gives a warning to Easter, his expression uncertain as he looks between the two groups. Derek sees him take a deep breath and lean in towards them, and knows that he's come to a decision. He can only hope it is one that allows them the time to find you.

"The BAU knows Agent L/N well and I still think they would be helpful in bringing her back. Any judgments regarding her culpability shall be made after she's brought in. Agent Easter, you will work with – "

Easter cuts him off. "I'll have my own team work on this. They can work it too, but you'll understand if I don't exactly trust them to bring her in properly."

McKinney's expression is marred with displeasure at his instructions being ignored, however he nods, allowing it for the time being.

Easter stands, ready to take his leave. As he comes around to the table, he takes something out of his pocket. "She's not coming back, mate. Pretty sure she left this for you." With that, he sets something down with a thunk on to the table right in front of Hotch, before striding out.

Derek recognizes the chain and locket that sat on the table in front of Hotch, the emerald shining brilliantly in the sunlight. You'd worn it every single day since Hotch had given it to you. He remembers you telling them it had been a birthday present, your fingers curling around it as you spoke, your eyes admiring it while your face broke out into a relaxed grin. He watches Hotch as the man reaches out to grab it. For the first time, Derek sees something akin to hope fill his eyes.

*------------*

"We think we have a lead."

Those were the first words out of Garcia's mouth when Morgan had called in to ask for updates. The four of them in the car quickly exchange a look before Morgan gives Garcia the go ahead.

"Spencer remembered something that Y/N said to him while we were in New York," JJ begins quickly.

"When we were in New York, Y/N was on the phone and she asked me to remember an address for her, and said she'd ask me for it later. I had assumed it was related to the case at the time, and since she didn't have a pen on her, she just wanted me to remember it." Reid's frantic explanation squawks through the speakers on the phone.

Rossi notes Aaron's agitated state before turning back to the phone. "The point, kid."

"It's to a storage facility here in Virginia. Garcia pulled up the manifest of storage owners and there's a name on there – "

"Blare Sky Hoo," Garcia interjects

"It's an anagram – " Reid continues "– for Haley Brooks."

Aaron feels his heart beat pick up. That sounded exactly like something you'd do if you were leaving clues meant specifically for them – for him. You were leading them to you. The knowledge that you'd relied on Reid's ability to remember an offhand address that you'd told him months prior was something he chose not to focus on at the time being. After he finds you, then he was going to have a talk with you about over relying on Reid. It also doesn't escape his notice that you'd told Reid this in New York. Started building your failsafe months prior. In hindsight, it explained so much – how tired and spent you seemed anytime you were home. All of this had to have been weighing heavily on your mind. For months now. You knew – even back then – that there was a chance everything could go wrong. You'd planned accordingly.

"Another thing we found is a folder in the partition of the drive that only Y/N owned. It's an empty folder with nothing in it, titled Lady L."

"Does that mean anything?" Morgan asks, his confused glance matching Aaron's.

"Well," Reid answers, "Lady L is likely a reference to Lady Lazarus. It's a poem by Sylvia Plath – Y/N and I have discussed her work at length. Plath wrote this poem only two months prior to her suicide. It's a reference to Lazarus, who in the Gospel of John, was raised from the dead by Jesus – the main theme being one of resurrection."

"An empty folder, huh." Rossi looks at Aaron and Morgan before they all turn to look at Prentiss.

She meets their eyes for a second before turning back towards the phone. "You think it has something to do with me?"

"It would stand to reason," Reid says. "The empty folder. Your empty coffin. The resurrection from the dead."

"She helped your mom pick out the headstone," Morgan recalls. Aaron can see the guilt from that flitting across Prentiss's face briefly.

"In New York, she said – " Prentiss's voice cracks as she meets Aaron's eyes "– she said I only get one. One funeral. After the fire."

Aaron manages to offer her a look of commiseration, as Morgan instructs Garcia to send over the address to the storage facility. They'd stop at the cemetery on the way.

As Morgan pulls out of the parking garage, Aaron's fingers latch on to the chain sitting in his pocket, the metal cool beneath his fingertips, his thumb rubbing against the stone of the locket. Easter was wrong. That necklace didn't mean that you'd left. His mind flits back to that day at the airport when the three of you had been on your way to Paris. Your soft voice, lips turned upwards into a flirty, sweet smile that set his heart aflutter. Your words echoed in his head. Hang on to that, will you? I'll come back for it.

*------------*

It had taken them an hour or so to drive from Quantico, to the cemetery, and they now stood outside the storage unit that Garcia had directed them to. In Morgan's hand was a key that had been wedged into a slot in Prentiss's headstone that still stood there. Aaron has a feeling you'd spent quite a bit of time there during his mission in Pakistan. The thought of you going and sitting by Prentiss's grave after he'd abandoned you has a ripple of guilt rolling through him.

"There's a second lock," Prentiss points out as Morgan goes to unlock the one towards the right with the key.

Aaron looks to the other side and sees a four digit combination lock. Before Morgan has a chance to dial up Garcia and Reid to get them to start running through possible combinations, on a whim, he leans down and enters the passcode from the safe at home. His fingers roll the metal wheels and get each of the numbers aligned, and he pulls. No luck.

There's a quick flash of smooth skin and elegant black script in his head – delicate flesh that his fingers have brushed over countless times. Ink that his lips have hovered over, caressed. Numbers traced by his tongue, with only the faint morning sunlight to help guide the path.

Quickly, he tries again, shifting the metal wheels once more and realigning those four numbers with the arrows. With a click, it falls open.

He looks up to see the rest of them looking at him and he simply shrugs, before both him and Morgan hoist up the door by the handles, the action causing the metal to clang and echo down the hallways.

Prentiss has her flashlight out and Morgan is quick to find the light switch, bathing the 10x15 room in yellow light. In front of them are boxes and boxes, the room filled to the ceiling. They each grab a box. Prentiss manages to find one that had been sitting near the top that had been left in slight disarray and she focuses on that one. Beside Aaron, both Rossi and Morgan have grabbed a box each as well.

It's quiet for a little bit as the four of them look for anything that could be helpful. Aaron finds himself looking up frequently. You had to have had this stuff for years now, likely only having changed the name on the roster recently. This room held a lot of your past from before the two of you had met. In one corner, he can see the motorcycle you'd told him about from your training years, the handles jutting out from underneath the blue tarp covering. There's another large crate that they haven't gotten to yet, since they'd need a crowbar to get it open.

"I think it's research," Prentiss suggests, her eyes still reading through the paperwork in her hand. "Research on her father and his businesses."

Aaron nods. That made sense – you might've abandoned your revenge against him, but you'd kept everything you'd found. Based on what they'd learned from Easter, that your father's friend was involved, it must've jogged something in your memory while you'd been working on this case. Something had to have felt familiar to you.

"Yeah, this has a lot of stuff on shell corporations and property that's registered under each of them," Morgan adds, pointing to the box that he had been looking over.

Rossi stands from his crouched position, dusting off his pants before placing his hands on his hips and surveying the landscape in front of them. "Y/N wouldn't have led us here for no reason. If her father was involved and she had information like this on him, then there's a chance that the people he used to work with still own and use those properties. Somewhere in these boxes is the answer to where she might be right now"

Rossi was right, but it was starting to feel overwhelming. They were never going to make it through it all. There had to be over fifty boxes in there. Even with Reid's ability to read at the speed of light, they'd never make it through quickly enough or know what mattered enough.

Mind made up in an instant, Aaron stands straight, drawing the attention of the rest of them. Dialing Garcia, he puts the phone on speaker so that the rest of them can hear as well.

Garcia picks up immediately with a quick - for her - greeting and asks what he needs. "Garcia, can you please get me information on Johnathan Hawthorne?"

Morgan's eyebrows raise as Prentiss's brow crinkles, the both of them having stopped their perusal of their share of the boxes and waiting to hear back from Garcia. He can hear the tapping of the keyboard as she quickly looks up everything she could.

After a minute or so, her voice is back with a crackle. "Johnathan Hawthorne, 35. Resides in Midtown Manhattan. Columbia law school - he clerked for Supreme Court Justice McGuire. Left a lucrative partnership at Bain & Ross three and a half years ago and has been with the New York state's District Attorney's office ever since. Highest conviction rate of any ADA there," she rattles off quickly.

Aaron starts - both at the McGuire clerkship as well as at the news that John was now an ADA.  He doesn't have the time to process that the change had followed yours and John's final time together by a mere six months. You'd broken it off and six months later the guy had changed his entire life. He doesn't have the time to wonder at the implication of that.

"Garcia, get me his direct line. Now."

[yutahoes]

Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Seventeen)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning:  Fluff, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

17. Growing

“Are you sure you can go to work now?” Yuta asked as he stopped in front of the publishing house. It’s been three days since he found (Y/N) in their home and although he didn’t tell her, he already bought their old house. That way, when her dad comes back, he can ask him to go to rehab. The girl nodded while checking her bag. “So this is how it feels like…” She gave him a curious look. Feels like what? “Bringing your daughter to her first day of school.”

(Y/N) had to giggle at that, Yuta is so cute. “Are you going to cry, otou-chan?” She teased but Yuta just chuckled, pinching her cheek. “I’ll call you later.” He raised an eyebrow at her. She would always say that but until now, he doesn’t know her number yet. “I promise, I’ll call.” She said before opening the door of the car. Yuta shook his head laughing to himself as he started the car. Let the waiting game begin.

The two were out for lunch, Jaehyun is abroad and Johnny is not around, leaving (Y/N) alone in the publishing house. She wanted to get lunch with her co-workers but she had to finish the illustration she’s tasked to do. And since she’s bored, she decided to get her phone and click speed dial 2. The phone was ringing as she bit her lip, deciding if this is a good idea or not. “Mosh mosh, Yuta Nakamoto desu.” And she automatically smiled at that. He sounded so hot talking in Japanese.

“Mosh mosh, (Y/N) desu.” She repeated while giggling that made the guy smile.

Yuta cleared his throat, seeing the investors look at him weirdly. He put down his phone for a second, making Doyoung shake his head at him. “Please give me a second. It’s an important call.” Then returned his phone to his ear, turning around from the group of guys. Doyoung just gave the men an apologetic smile then glared at Yuta. “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Are you busy?” she asked, obviously overhearing what he said. “I’ll just call you later.”

“It’s fine. Did you eat lunch?” She said no and he sighed. “I’ll order food for you, what do you want?”

She had to gasp at that. “Jungwoo is already buying me food. Go back to your meeting, Yuta. Call me when you're done.” He asked if he can do that and she just said yes.

“I’ll call you later.” She immediately ended the call that made him sigh then returned to the meeting as if nothing happened. Doyoung sighed at the smiling CEO. He’s really lovesick for his own good.

--

(Y/N) finished her lunch and is doing her work when her phone rang, grinning at the person who said hello on the other line. “Did you have lunch?” Yuta asked and she hummed a yes. “Busy?”

She shook her head although he clearly cannot see her. Jungwoo only smiled while watching her. “Just finalizing some illustrations.” She claimed then put down her drawing pen to focus on him. “Is the meeting done? What happened?”

There was an obvious shift in Yuta’s voice that made her bite her lip. Is that a wrong question? Did something bad happen during the meeting? Is she at fault? “The company has new investors from New Zealand.” He said then sighed. “More paper works, more production to look after.” She giggled at that. At least it’s good news. But this only means that Yuta will get stressed once again.

Three days of spending the night in his place made her aware of the demanding job of the CEO. Sometimes, she can hear him in the middle of the night still talking to some people. He would often stay up late just working on his laptop and even while eating, his eyes were glued on his phone. “I’m staying over at Jungwoo’s place tonight. We have to finish the manhwa for publication on Friday.” She claimed and Yuta hummed in response.

“I’ll be out of the country on Friday.” He shared that surprised her. Suddenly? “I’ll leave the apartment keys to you if you want to stay there on weekend. I’ll be back Monday night.”

She really needed a place to stay. She should stop going to someone’s house just to stay the night. She realized that when Yuta left the apartment keys to her that Friday morning, even asking her if she wanted souvenirs from New Zealand. Honestly, she wanted to come with him but she can’t leave especially now that she had to finish the first chapter of her manhwa set for publishing. 

She stayed at his place that Saturday morning since Lucas is back in Korea and she wanted Jungwoo to spend some quality time with him. The place seemed empty without him. How can he live here alone for years? Does he bring girls over? Or maybe he’s living with her girlfriend. Wait, does Yuta have a girlfriend? Is he married? She shook her head, why would he show interest in her if that’s the case?

She decided to do the laundry first, putting her clothes inside the washer. (Y/N) noticed one of her bra missing. Maybe she left it at Jungwoo’s place but that’s hardly the case. Lucas is sensitive about female’s clothes in their apartment. So where could it be? (Y/N) also put Yuta’s clothes in the washer since the ahjumma who was supposed to clean his house cannot go today. Maybe she can just clean up the house in exchange for staying here.

His clothes smelled like him and she suddenly missed him. Why does he have to be abroad now? And why is she so horny for him? Checking the calendar, it must be her ovulation period. Well, that explains her getting this horny. The vibrator, she thought, Yuta has it. Is it still here?

After cleaning the living room, she took a quick shower and wore his larger white shirt. (Y/N) had to borrow his computer so she went inside his study room and opened his desktop computer, surprised to see pictures of her as his screen wallpaper. Well, if this isn’t Yuta she would be terrified. How did he get these pictures? While she’s staying here? She opened the browser to send Johnny an email but it only restored some tabs. (Y/N) smiled, he was searching topics about flowers used for confession, how to tell a girl you love her, and even things like the traditional way of pursuing someone. Is he that serious?

And since she already has access to his computer, she decided to dig deeper and find out something about the guy. Maybe he can find his kinks by searching his browser history. But it’s clean, even a secret folder isn’t available on his computer. Doesn’t he watch porn? How is he so good in bed? Is he born with it? Or he had other girls to practice with? Well, the way they first met is rather smooth. Maybe he really is a fuckboy. So what’s with all this romance shit?

An engine search of nearby alcoholic rehab centers got her attention. He did say that before, he wanted to put her dad in rehab and have him sober. But how can Yuta, a total stranger, force her dad to do that? And where is he? He never picked up her calls and she didn’t know any friends that he has. He never returned to the house as well. A smile escaped her lips when she found out he searched about how to make bungeoppang. Why is Yuta confusing her?

Her phone rang that surprised her, an international number. Speaking of the devil. “Hi, have you eaten?” Yuta asked and she giggled. Did he call just to ask this? “Are you at work? Busy?”

“I’m at home.” The line got silent for a few seconds before she clarified, “I mean your home.” If possible, she can see how he smiled on the other line. “Sorry, I didn’t ask permission but I used your computer. And your clothes.”

The guy on the other line laughed. “It’s fine.” Then he stopped. “You saw the wallpaper?” She giggled at that, teasing that he’s too obsessed with her. “I had to keep myself sane when you’re not beside me.” (Y/N) wanted to swoon at that. How can he say those words so flawlessly? No doubt, he has some practice. “Wait, hold on…” he started. “You’re wearing my clothes?”

“Well yeah. I had to wash my clothes so I borrowed yours.” She bit her lip. Two can play a game. “Is that a bad thing, daddy?” she asked in a whisper and Yuta cursed. “Will I get punished, otou-chan?”

She could hear something closing on the other line then a click as if he’s locking something. “Fuck baby!” he cursed once again before sighing hard. “It’s still early here and the investors are here. Please don’t do this to me.” (Y/N) had to giggle at that. “Besides I’m not thrilled with the idea of punishing you. I just want to see you in my clothes.”

“Do you want a video?”

Yuta laughed. “Save it for later. I’ll call you when I’m alone in the hotel room.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” He giggled. Yuta had to remind her to get something to eat before dropping the call since he has a meeting to attend to. Now, (Y/N) had to get herself busy while waiting for their sexy night time call.

--

She already sent her work to Johnny, finished cleaning the house, and even finished the work Ten had asked help with. Yet there’s still no phone call from Yuta. Did he forget? Is he too busy? But she can’t stop her horniness now. Why did Ten ask her to edit his illustration? A phone sex one shot where the couple had the best masturbation of their life. And now, it made her excited and wet. 

The vibrator, she thought. She’s sure Yuta hid it somewhere here in his house. Or in his office? How can she let off alone? Maybe she’ll look for amazing porn and just finger herself. Or she could call Yuta? No, he might be really busy. Glancing at his bed, there might be a way she can get off with his help.

She had never done it before. Totally, a first. But she had seen a lot of deal like this in porn and it’s pretty normal. She removed her sweatpants, leaving her in just her underwear and Yuta’s white shirt. She felt dirty just imagining what she would do to an inanimated object and it can’t help that she’s thinking about Yuta’s reaction when he sees his sheet wet. Will he let him see it?

She sat on his pillow, letting her wet core rub against the dark sheets and she moaned at the friction. It was good. Really good. But something is missing. Him.

She wished Yuta is here then maybe she’s not humping his pillow and he’s already giving her the best orgasm like what he always does. Maybe she can ride his cock or even better, he can eat her out. And the thought sent shivers down her spine as her wet core brushed against his pillow.

The imagery of Yuta under her, riding his face rather than his pillow sent (Y/N)’s mind into a frenzy. How would those red lips kiss her pussy lips? How can that warm tongue explore her cavern? She moaned at the thought, holding the headboard using her left hand or she might bump her head from the pleasure. Her right hand pinched her nipples, squeezing her breast imagining Yuta’s hands doing the deed. There’s no doubt, Yuta is the only one who can give her the orgasm she needs.

She was close, too close when her phone rang. Both her hands were occupied and she’s still reaching that much-needed orgasm so she didn’t bother about the call. It stopped for a second then it rang again that made her annoyed. Who would call her? Pissed off, she accepted the call without checking the caller ID. “What took you so long?” She bit her lip at that. Yuta. “Are you busy? Did you eat?”

And that’s the least of her concerns now. She humped the pillow faster, letting her moans escape her mouth to reach Yuta then maybe he could get the idea. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, obviously pissed off and it just sounded so hot against her ear. The girl dropped her phone in front of her, moaning loudly that if he had neighbors they’ll obviously hear.

She whimpered at the pleasure of her orgasm, rubbing her wetness on his pillow and even leaving a stain. (Y/N) picked up the phone and Yuta was asking for a video call. Really? When she’s just done with her orgasm? She declined the request and put the phone against her ear. “Hello?” she said in a shaky breath.

Yuta clucks his tongue at her. “Good?” He sounded agitated that she didn’t answer back, scared. “Is it another vibrator?” Oh yeah, she thought, Jungwoo’s vibrator. “Are you having fun without me, baby girl?” She gulped at his words. It sounded so hot that she grew wet again. This is bad. “Did you lose your tongue, baby girl?”

He sounded so dominant on the phone that she wanted to see him, maybe he’s in bed stroking his cock with a serious face. Maybe he looks angry and she wanted to see that. She shouldn’t have canceled that video request. “No, otou-chan,” she said softly.

“You were moaning loudly earlier. Why are you so quiet now?” he asked and she bit her lip. Totally hot. Her fingers trailed on her clit and she gave a breathy whimper. “What are you doing now?” But she didn’t answer, biting her lip to prevent moaning. He cursed in Japanese that made her arch her back at how erotic that sounded. “Were you touching yourself, princess?” She answered a muffled yes, turning around that she’s lying stomach flat on his bed as she inserted a finger inside her. “Is it satisfying? Your fingers?”

“No, Yuta,” she answered just as a moan escaped her mouth. Yuta laughed on the other line. “I want you.”

He chuckled once again. “Doesn’t sound like it, princess.” he teased. “Open your video, I want to see you.” A video request can be seen again and she only saw him in a suit, lying in what looks like a bed before looking the other way in embarrassment.

The guy can see her in his shirt, her nipples perked up. He can’t really see what she’s doing but the shaking of her body made him aware that she really is fingering herself. How wild, he thought. Why is she so horny like this? He opened his dress shirt then his pants, touching his cock which started to get hard at the image presented in front of him. “Princess, let me see you. I’ll make you feel good.”

(Y/N) had to fix her phone so that he could see her fully and she moaned when she realized that he was also touching himself. "Yuta…" she said breathlessly. "I want you."

"Oh sweetheart, I wish I'm there right now." He groaned against his phone. "I wanted to do a lot of things to you," Yuta said sensually while touching his body. "I want your pretty lips wrapped around my cock." And he changed the angle of the video to where he was jerking his hard rock arousal. "I want you squirming in orgasm under me. To dick you down real hard that you can only remember my name." She kept on calling for his name as her fingers sent her to the edge of her orgasm. "(Y/N)." He called sensually. "Baby!"

And that does it. She orgasmed on his bed for the second time but this time, she spoiled his sheets. Yuta was chuckling as she was riding out her orgasm, his hand still lazily jerking his cock. "Naughty girl." He teased. "Do you like soiling the sheets?"

"I'm sorry." She said biting her lip. "And it's not only the sheet that I stained." She said guiltily then showed him the pillow with a wet mark. "I'll just wash these tomorrow..."

"Don't." Yuta reacted instantly. "Leave it. I want it on my bed when I return on Monday."

"Pervert."

"Says the girl who was humping my pillow." She rolled her eyes. "You like unanimated objects, is that your kink?" He asked and she gave him a curious expression. "My pillow. That stupid vibrator…"

"Speaking of the vibrator, where is that?"

Yuta chuckled. "First drawer to the left side table." She dropped her phone for a while before checking the place Yuta mentioned, surprised to see the object shattered inside. A gasp escaped her mouth and he laughed once again. "I already told Jungwoo that I will pay for it." He reasoned out and she shook her head, still assessing the object. How did he break this? Is he that mad? "So say goodbye to my pillow for making you cum." Does he have anger issues?

But that is hot, she had to admit. She feels loved; like someone is being really possessive of her. "Can you calm down Yuta?" She sighed. "You should break yourself for always putting me on edge." He giggled at that. "Are you going back on Monday?" He nodded and she pursed her lips. "Can I stay the night on Monday? Lucas is still here in Korea."

Again, a chuckle. "Sure but I won't let you go to work on Tuesday." She raised an eyebrow at him and he just smirked. "Do you think you can walk properly after I'm done with you? I don't think so, princess." She smiled at that. Well, she wanted that.

Yuta promised to message her in the morning and asked her to get some rest already. He smiled when the video call dropped. This girl, really. Why is she shaking him like this? And why isn't it Monday yet?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 16 / Chapter 18

Happy New Year Everyone! 🎉🎆🎇

[sabraeal]

In Plain Sight, Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Written for @k-itsmaywriting​‘s birthday! I hope that, despite how weird the world is right now, you have an amazing day!

Shirayuki understands how this is supposed to work. She’s seem movies after all-- Witness, of course; Sister Act 1 & 2, if only because Opa thought Whoopie Goldberg was a national treasure and Oma thought she was too young to be watching Ghost; and Our Lips Are Sealed about eight times on video cassette, since she’s old enough (and Opa resisted DVD long enough) have both VCRs and wholesome Olsen twins content as a part of her childhood.

(Her favorite formative twins were Annie and Hallie from The Parent Trap; they were red-headed, just like her, and one of them had a British accent. She’d been devastated to find out that not only were both of them American, but they were also only one girl. She’d watched Double Trouble to console herself)

In any case, she knows how this goes, at least narratively. She lays down in this amazingly comfortable bed, stares up at the ceiling in a tense yet melancholy fashion for hours, and dreams in plot-relevant flashbacks. Extra points if they reference the crime she witnessed.

The problem is: she didn’t. She’s just the unfortunate collateral to her father’s personal redemption. All the life ruining without ever being part of the A plot.

There’s an upside though: the second she hits that firm cloud of a mattress, she’s out like a light.

Absolutely nothing wakes her, but Shirayuki jolts into consciousness anyway, as unpleasant as any false start. She expects to be confused; she’s not a graceful riser to begin with, and every morning in temporary housing, she’d bounce off three walls at minimum trying to find a bathroom that didn’t exist.

(Well, the bathroom did exist, it just didn’t exist where it should, which was down the hall to the right, and was compounded by the door being in exactly the wrong place too.)

Instead, she knows exactly where she is. Knowledge which is quickly followed by the low-key, seething resentment for the man who put her here.

She groans, lifting her head from the pillow. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s just--

7:00, her alarm clock says. Tuesday, her brain provides after a long moment.

She should be getting up, habit told her. Getting her morning fix of avocado toast and orange juice with Paul Newman’s face stamped on it.

There’s worse ways to start your day than having a fine pair of eyes smiling at you, Oma would say.

What can I say? Opa’d grumble back, flipping through the paper. It’s impossible to compete with Butch Cassidy.

Her fingers curl into the sheets. There’d be none of that today. Agent Jiang-- Obi’s assistant had gotten her Simply Orange instead. A small mercy. It’s hard enough to be someone else when there’s still so much her clinging to the edges.

It’s tempting to linger in bed; she’s always been a morning person, up with the birds, but maybe Claire isn’t. Maybe Claire likes to stay up late and sleep in, sleeping past the three alarms she sets for herself. Maybe she likes to have waffles for breakfast, straight from a box, and drinks pomegranate juice. Maybe she doesn’t bike into the lab at eight because--

She groans. Because Claire doesn’t have a job. A thing that will have to change soon, since Claire has to pay for this house.

There’s a great deal of compromise that happens between bedside and bathroom; habit insists she needs to be fully dressed, ready to greet the day, but everything else--

Well, she’s not going anywhere is she? There’s no reason she couldn’t wallow in her pj’s all day

Standards, habit insists. But those belonged to Shirayuki, not Claire. Claire has no job, no friends, and nothing to do on a Tuesday morning besides--

Oh no, the recycling.

The bin is nearly two-thirds her height, but with only one day under her belt, it’s already overflowing. Good thing she’d looked at that brochure when it slipped out from between the takeout menus.

She shrugs her hoodie a little tighter, pulling it down over her leggings-- habit and hedonism settled on exercise wear as a happy medium-- and grips the handle, tugging it out the opening garage door, right into the fresh Texas morning--

And promptly throws her hoodie back into the garage. She might need that with the downright frosty temperature the house is set to, but oh, she was not going to cover her skin out here any more than necessary. Even now, she’s starting to sweat in impossible places beneath her leggings.

Hooking her palm back around the handle, she tugs the bin down the drive. Her gaze fixes to the pavement-- the last thing she needs is to trip right over herself on her own driveway taking out the trash-- and she doesn’t look up until she hits the sidewalk. It’s a struggle to get it to sit right-- these are proper curbs, white poured cement with squared edges meant to puncture cheeky tires; one of the wheels catches in a gap and refuses to budge until she hip checks it out onto the next slab.

She’s damp at this point, skin dewing with giant drops of sweat she’s tempted to shake off like a dog, but--

But Martha Kino has an arm slung along their fence, holding a tall glass of iced tea that makes her mouth water just to look at.

“Oh, um, good morning!” she calls out with a weak wave. “I didn’t, um, see you there.”

It’s only when Martha slides her gaze to her that she realizes her neighbor hadn’t been looking at her at all. Her mouth curves into a knowing smile at the sight of her. “Good morning, honey. You here for the show?”

Shirayuki blinks. “The show?”

“Mm-hm.” Martha takes a long drag from her straw, ice clinking against the glass. “Here it comes now.”

Shirayuki tracks her line of sight right across the cul-de-sac, squinting at half acre of immaculately trimmed, completely invasive Bermuda grass. Their front garden is well-kept, as well; thickly mulched with giant hibiscus blooming blood red against pristine stone facade.

Oh, and there’s a man as well. That’s probably what Mrs Kino is looking at.

He’s tall. No, tall is an understatement; he’s a giant, six foot four at least with shoulders to match. He’s trimmed with the same military precision as his lawn, clean shaven with an undercut that could scratch glass. Heavy brows draw sharply over his nose, forehead rumpling as he tears a box right down the fold--

Ah, well, all right. It’s not doing much of anything for her, but the Vitruvian man’s more ideal cousin ripping up boxes definitely counts as a show. Halfway through, he grabs the hem of his shirt, mopping his brow, and ah, hm, he could definitely have made money as an anatomical model. His rectus abdominis are, ah...very defined.

“Is he--” Shirayuki searches for the words-- “from around here?”

“Oh, him?” Martha’s gaze doesn’t stray for a second, not even as she sips at her tea. “That’s Scott. Aspen’s husband. They just moved in a few weeks ago.”

Shirayuki glances around the neighborhood. Seems like more than a few of her neighbors hope they’ll never leave either.

“Quite the pair, those two,” Martha hums. “She’ll be at the luncheon. I know you two will just get on like houses.”

More like houses on fire if she mentions she’s seen her husband’s floor show. “Oh, right. The um, luncheon.”

Mrs Kino grins as Scott hops back inside, out of this heat, just like she’s dying to do. “By the way, he mows the lawn on Sunday, just before lunch.”

“Oh, um, great.” She’ll be sure to miss it. “Can’t wait.”

It’s too early to bake cookies.

There’s not a baked good on earth that tastes as good two days later as it does fresh out of the oven; Shirayuki knows that down to her toes and bones, but still--

Stress baking. It’s a thing. And she doesn’t have to make anything right now. She could get all the ingredients together, just to make sure she has them. And then...just not do anything.

She can. Definitely. Absolutely. She’s Claire now. Claire probably doesn’t even like chocolate chip cookies.

Oh gosh, who is she kidding? Only monsters don’t like chocolate chip cookies. What next, Claire doesn’t like brownies? Apple pie? Snickerdoodles?

It’s a slippery slope, not liking things. Best to just keep it simple and eat everything, that’s what Opa always said at the church potluck.

The morsels and brown sugar already sit out on the counter when her phone lets out a piercing ting. She’s half tempted to ignore it; she’s having a contentious battle with the ten pounds of King Arthur flour that’s tucked away in her cabinet-- what was she thinking?-- and she refuses to show any fear in the face of baking supplies but--

Ting. No one knows her number. Well, no one except the government.She settles back on her heels with a sneeze. The government probably doesn’t take kindly to being left on read.

Her hands clap against her thighs, flour misting into the air as she leaves two partial prints right over the helical print. She frowns, plucking at the fabric, nose wrinkling as more powder burst into the air. Ting.

“I’m coming,” she mutters, stumbling over to the island. “I’m coming.”

Sugar Daddy i got just what u need pumpkin check ur email

The corners of her mouth dig furrows into her cheeks as she clicks on the notification. It’s the only message in her inbox, aside from the ubiquitous Welcome to Gmail spam and a few coupons for Banana Republic and a couple of other retailers. They’d taught her about this at orientation; they couldn’t do much about an empty inbox, but everyone had at least a few mailing lists they’d either forgotten to opt out of or regularly used.

Still...what about her said Banana Republic? She glances down at her spandex-clad legs. If they were going to go for a too-expensive clothing line, they could have at least sprung for Lululemon.

Ah, but that wasn’t the point. Marshal Jiang-- Obi hadn’t texted all...that...to show off some spam. Sitting at the very top of her inbox is a Cornell email address-- Cornell-- with an attachment.

Dear Claire, the message reads, We’re so sorry to see you go, but I’m glad we’re able to keep in touch. Of course we kept the copy of your old CV. Good luck to you in all your endeavors.

It’s signed by some professor; not high profile enough for her to have heard of, but she doesn’t doubt that he’s real, someone a curious party could look up on Cornell’s directory. Well, at least for the next six months.

The Columbia alumna inside her writhes in agony. Cornell. She doubts it’s a coincidence.

Me Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?

Not that she’s very, um, up on the specifics of such a relationship, but she’d been under the impression that sugar...children?...were supposed to be fully reliant on their sugar parent. Her mouth pulls thin. Already she’s thinking about this far more than she’d ever hope to.

Sugar Daddy a good daddy makes sure his baby can take care of herself ;)

This declaration is followed by a stream of emojis, ending with an eggplant and a peach, and she just-- doesn’t need to know. She wipes away the sweat that beads at her hairline-- from embarrassment, of course-- and downloads the attachment.

Me I’ll take a look. Thank you.

She sets the phone back on the island, face down, and glares. He can’t possibly be like this to everyone. People would complain. They wouldn’t just let him insinuate that he-- that they--

Ting.

Sugar Daddy good girl

All right. Maybe they would.

Shirayuki doesn't get homesick.

She’d been the first brownie to leap out of her car at summer camp; Opa barely had time to lurch into park before she was traipsing across the field, backpack slung over her shoulder and duffel bag dragging on the grass. Freshman year, she moved into the dorm by herself, pressing kisses to wrinkled cheeks as she lugged her suitcases onto the train; she’d almost forgotten to wave from the window.

But as soon as she lays down in bed, the lights snuffed out and the world still, it hits her. Just a soft roll of her stomach at first, the barest itch on her skin, like wearing a wool sweater on a spring afternoon. It’s fine; too much to ignore but nothing that would keep her up too long.

It doesn’t stay that way.

Her stomach clenches, tears pricking at her eyes, and it’s everything she can do to just roll onto her side, letting the chills wrack through her body. She shivers so hard her teeth chatter, and this-- this isn’t the gentle ache of nostalgia her books prepared her for. This is an illness, plain and simple, like when she caught norovirus in eighth grade can could hardly do anything but lay on the bathroom floor and wait for the next wave to begin.

This isn’t her, she isn’t like this, she doesn’t get like this, but-- but--

Before she always knew her home was waiting for her; she could leave but Oma and Opa would always keep the front lamp on, waiting for weary travelers and last minute bookings.

It’s different now that there’s no home to come back to.

7:00, her alarm clock says. She watches it tick over, like she has for every hour before it.

She must have slept at some point; it’s impossible that she’s lain awake, staring at the clock for eight hours. But that doesn’t make her any less tired, and so when her alarm starts up, beeps cutting through the quiet white noise of the air conditioner, she reaches out and slaps it off.

Shirayuki may not sleep in, but Claire is certainly warming to the idea.

Her notebook sits open on the island; neat, looping script stretches across the page, straining the boundaries of the blue lines that contains it. She’d done her homework yesterday, combing through job sites to find the most likely candidates. There’s five on her list right now, ranked according to preference, and oh, is Shirayuki glad she had the gumption to do this before, because this morning she feels like roadkill being scraped off the blacktop.

Still, she worries at her lip as her laptop boots up, peering over her list. In the cold light of the morning, five seems too few, but...desperation hasn’t set in yet. She’s allowed to still have standards.

Wrapping her hands around her mug, she glances at the next page: another list. No, a set of instructions. Edit CV. Write cover letters.

Shirayuki groans. Even with the bullet points she left for herself, composing cover letters is a circle of hell all its own. With only three hours of solid sleep under her belt, it’s an insurmountable hurdle to getting hired.

“Right,” she murmurs, hooking an ankle around a stool and pulling it under her. “Editing it is.”

She clicks on the pdf Obi sent her, scrolling down and--

“Oh no.” She rears back from the screen, heart pounding. “No, no. There’s got to be a mistake...”

“Hey, baby,” Obi’s voice rumbles through her speaker. It’s thick and warm and would be utterly distracting if she were in any less of a crisis. “A little early for a b--?”

“What happened to my papers?”

“Uh.” All the suggestion in his tone evaporates. “What?”

“My papers.” Her hand grips the phone so tight it creaks. “They’re gone.”

His end goes silent. Silent enough to make that weird click, like the line’s cut out, and she pulls back to check--

“Someone stole your passport?” He laughs, incredulous. “Some sort of luck you have, Miss. Barely had it for a day and already you’ve gotten your identity stolen.”

She blinks into the barren air of her kitchen. “What?”

“You know,” he hums, too amused, “I picked out a cute house in the suburbs for safety, and here you are, getting robbed. Did you leave them in your car? Or did you just go out--”

“N-no!” She’s honestly half tempted to say what car, until she remembers the tasteful mid-sized SUV in the driveway, the one she’s still been calling the girlfriend car in her head, and realizes-- it’s hers. She’s the girlfriend.

Except she’s not. At all. Which is fine! She doesn’t even want that! If she’s still thinking about what his mouth feels like as he wraps them around his words, then--

She really can’t be thinking about this right now. “I mean my papers! I just looked at my CV and it’s a page!”

He hesitates, though not enough for the line to click again. “Isn’t that long enough?”

“CVs aren’t resumes,” she informs him patiently, pen twisting between her fingers. “They’re dick measuring contests--”

Her teeth snap around the words, but oh, it’s too late. They’re already out there in the aether, and he’s laughing.

“Now there’s something I didn’t think I’d hear out of you, Miss.” He doesn’t need to sound so pleased about it.

“It’s something my old PI used to say,” she mutters. Oh, Garak would be so proud of herself if she knew. “It’s not very polite, but she’s not, um, wrong.”

“I’m sorry the US government made you under endowed.” His words practically rattle as he says them. “It’s not the size that matters, Miss, but how you use it.”

“Obi,” she huffs. “All the work I’ve done for the past ten years of my life now is attributed to my birth name and my birth name only! According to this CV I have the same level of experience, but less papers than an undergrad! And you can’t tell me that any of these are searchable on PubMed.”

And none of them are first authors, is what she doesn’t say. It’s a petty thing to worry about when her entire academic career is functionally extinct.

“Hm.” His fingers drum quickly on a table. Desk? It’s strange not knowing anything about the man who is her only lifeline. “I’ll look into it.”

“I don’t want to be, um, alarmist, but I can’t get a job with this.” Her hand shakes as she scrolls down her screen. “No one is going to hire a post-doc with a one page CV.”

“Don’t worry, Miss. There’s a plan for this, somewhere.” She can feel his grin when he says, “You can’t be the first academic who’s had to go into hiding.”

She smiles, despite herself. “Considering some of the conferences I’ve been to, I can believe it.”

“Besides, you could always apply to pharmaceuticals.” The very word is like a donkey kick to her gut. “The pay’s supposed to be better--”

“I can’t work for Big Pharma.”

He hesitates. “You...can’t?”

“Obi, they make little old grandmas pay eight hundred dollars for insulin!” She presses a hand to her chest. “Banting and Best didn’t sell the patent for one dollar so that people could get gouged by--”

“I get it, I get it,” he assured her. “Preaching to the choir. But as a safety, I’m sure you could find one that isn’t stealing candy from babies.”

She huffs. “I doubt it.”

He rasps out a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do. As I said, can’t be the first PhD on the lam.”

Her mouth twitches. “Just yours?”

“You are certainly some kind of education, Miss.” He hums. “Give me a day. See what I can turn up.”

“You have two,” she informs him magnanimously. “I have the luncheon tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” She doesn’t need to see him to know he’s lounging, smug like a cat post-canary. “Looking forward to joining the neighborhood’s Ladies’ Committee?”

“Ha ha,” she drawls flatly. “Very funny.”

He is unnervingly silent on the other end.

“You’re kidding, right?” Her voice certainly does not fill with a nervous quaver. “You guys don’t have things like that around here.”

Obi hums, humoring her.

“W-what would they even do?” She picks nervously at the sticker on her laptop, prying up part of NVIDIA. “Plan potlucks? Organize the Neighborhood Watch? Cotillions?”

She doesn’t know how he makes his grin so palpable over 4G. “Looking forward to your debut, Miss?”

Shirayuki scowls down at her screen. “I think I’m firmly up on the shelf, thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I have cookies to make.”

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[boymeetsweevil]

MBD - 04

Grouping: Reader x Yoongi

Word Count: <8k

Summary: Three lessons to be learned: 1) don’t read the comments. Ever. 2) Baking will never let you down. 3) Don’t tease Yoongi.

Warnings/Themes: Angst?? Heavy doses of body image and related unhealthy behaviors, low self-esteem, cyberbullying? May be triggering for some. Some suggestive content. A jealous Yoongi.

part 0, part 1, part 2, part 3

A few more days pass through your break from work. Yoongi stayed with you the morning after coming back from the club to help you nurse your hangover, but he’d been in the dorms and studio since then. This left you with extra time on your hands.

In that time, you visited your best friend and your cousin who both lived deeper in the city, a mere hour’s ride from your apartment in the outskirts. You also got ahead on some work despite the fact that your boss gave you strict warnings about fully enjoying the break after seeing how hard you worked on the project for the quarter. But eventually you ran out work you could do and had nothing left but Netflix and the internet.

As it turns out, being alone with the internet ends up being a horrible set of circumstances. Curiosity and boredom get the best of you, and you find yourself breaking a cardinal rule.

You google Yoongi to see what pops up and get recent news about him being spotted with a lady friend. You know better, but optimism pulls you in and you’re opening up one of the articles. Apparently a fan that snuck into the VIP booth snapped a picture of you dancing with him at the club you went to a few days prior. Yoongi looks handsome with his bare face half obscured by his mask and a soft expression as he looks at you. But you let out a raspy gasp at your picture.

The only good thing about the photo is that your face is turned away from the camera, leaving your identity barely undiscovered. But your neck is coated with sweat, gleaming under the club lights. In the picture, the dance-move you’re doing is frozen, awkward and contorted, your body looks all wrong. With the powerful camera flash, you can see all the spots on your clothes where sweat had accumulated, all the spots where your amateur makeup skills failed. There’s no grace, no elegance, no dignity afforded to you in the photo.  It’s not the first time you’ve seen of yourself in a random pap site or careless photos. But it’s by far the worst one you’ve seen.

Like a magnet is drawing you there, even though your stomach already feels like shards of ice are forming inside it, you break a second cardinal rule. You read the comments.

It’s amazing that she feels comfortable looking like that when there’s a literal GOD standing next to her. I could never do that. I wouldn’t even leave the house

Why is something like this allowed when there are much prettier girls to pick from?

I don’t think Yoongi would be stupid enough to date this girl, the picture probably just makes it look like they’re together when they’re obvi not

actually I think this is the same girl in that ##0524 photo. Look (image01) same hairstyle and earrings. I think she just turned into a blimp...

Guys plz be nice u don’t know this person. Maybe she has a really great personality

so? This is what she gets for trying too hard to cling to Yoongi

Yo it’s prolly cuz she’s rich. You see those leggings? I didn’t even think they made them in that size but they’re from that brand IU wears. And they’re like $250 :0

She wasn’t even that pretty before this but now I REALLY don’t get it. Yoongi~~ there are skinnier girls who would suit u better

Load 675 more...

You slam your laptop shut before fumbling for your phone. Breathing levelly, you’re the picture of eerie calm with the exception of the way your hands tremble. You pull up your text messages to text your best friend when you stop yourself. While the company knows that you’re dating, you’re not allowed to disclose any information about Yoongi or the relationship to any third parties. To the public he’s still single despite his dating clause having expired long before you even met. And there’s no way to explain what you’re going through to your friend without bringing up your secret boyfriend’s stardom.

So who can you turn to, you wonder. You can’t tell your friends. You can’t tell your mother either. As much as you love her, she’d spill the secret in minutes out of well-meaning pride. And there’s no way you can tell Yoongi.

Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you hold it for as long as you can before shoving a pillow over your face and screaming.  All that’s left to show for the few minutes you spend screaming is the fact that you feel about 1% better and your now-hoarse voice. But the relief doesn’t last. The relief leaves room for heat to rise on your skin. Annoyance fills all your empty spaces. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and feel more anger.

Maybe you just aren’t working hard enough and people can just see that. Maybe you just aren’t being productive, you haven’t earned your spot yet. You hop off the bed and look around the room, almost frantic in your search for something to work on and actually improve.

Start with a deep clean, you tell yourself.

Two days later when Yoongi comes over, you’re still in the process of purging your tiny apartment.

“What’s all this,” he kicks gently at the garbage bags full of clothes littering the walkway to your bedroom. You jump at the sound of his voice, having forgotten that he mentioned coming over.

“I’m just doing some tidying up. I started with towel folding videos on YouTube and ended up realizing I have a hoarding problem.”

“I don’t think having dust bunnies under your bed counts as hoarding, but okay.” He searches for some space on your bed to sit in. The duvet’s surface is also covered in a mixture of old clothes and little knick knacks you’ve had since before you graduated college. “I didn’t realize you had so many clothes.”

You watch him pick up a spaghetti string top that you hadn’t gotten around to sorting yet. He gestures towards the two trash bags full of clothes on the floor.

“Put it in that one,” you point to the one furthest from the bed.

“Is this the donate pile?” He folds the shirt almost neatly and places it on the top of the other items with a sympathetic pat.

“Uh, no.”

“Then what is it? Looks like you already have everything you’re keeping,” he peers into your stocked closet.

“That’s actually the...inspiration pile,” you explain quietly.

“What?”

“It’s the stuff I'm gonna keep as motivation for me to lose weight.”

“Oh,” you’re surprised to see what looks like faint disappointment in Yoongi’s eyes as your words register. “I mean...makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s one route you could take.”

“Is there another route?”  You turn to face him fully from your spot on the ground with a confused smile. The shoes you were organizing lay unattended.

“Well, you could not lose the weight,” he shrugs.

You avert your gaze to the ceiling, as if the true meaning of his words will be scribed there. It sounds as though he’s suggesting you don’t try to get back down to where you were before the huge project your boss assigned you, but you figure that can’t be it.

“I just mean that you could donate these,” he points at the clothes in the inspiration pile. “Some of them look like they’re brand new—I’ve never even seen you in them. And you could just get some new clothes.”

“You mean like ones that fit me now?”

“Or like before.” He shrugs. “Your style was nice, I don’t know why you changed it.”

“It changed because nothing I had before fits now. So I have to wear this other stuff.” You’re talking about the shapeless sweaters and the monotonous greyscale pants.

“You don’t have to.”

He makes a valid point, but it’s a small one. Besides, there’s something else you’re digging for. “So you really think I should buy bigger clothes?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s so simple.

“Okay...but these clothes are supposed to be there to motivate me to lose the weight. If I just get a new wardrobe, that’ll mean the motivation is gone.”

“Okay,” he draws out the syllables while waiting to hear what your point is.

“That means I’ll stay like this.”

“What do you mean ‘like this’? What’s wrong with that?”

Your fists clench at your side as you think back to the photos of you in the club. And the comments from the netizens all saying roughly the same thing. With the puzzled way he stands there and looks at you, you feel another wave of frustration rise up. Did he really not see what was happening? Was he really going to make you say it?

“Hey,” he peers down at the veins rearing against the skin of your hands. “I mean it. What’s wrong?”

He gets up like the discussion is about to go somewhere but his phone ringing loudly with the little jingle reserved for one of his producer buddies stops the conversation in its tracks. You take this as a moment to shoo him out your place before your head explodes. Yoongi looks conflicted, he truly does. Still, he answers the call dutifully and gives a few affirmative words to assure that he is going to be at the studio soon and is ready to work. The call is short, but the mood is still tense like an angry, trapped breath.

“I have, like, 5 more minutes before I have to go—”

“You know what? Never mind. You’re clearly busy with studio stuff and I’m...busy too.”

With steely eyes, you take the clothes he was trying to help you with and add them to your own pile. He picks up the few things he brought with him in his brief visit and eyes you like he wants to say more. His gaze lingers over the sides of your face like a regretful touch and you turn to the side to shrug it off.

Another beep from his phone shatters the gossamer thin atmosphere further. He sighs and pulls his phone back out before hunching his shoulders.

“Can I use your laptop to check my email really quickly before I go? They just sent me a file and I can’t open it on my—”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it with you. I don’t need it,” you cut him off and wave a hand in the direction of your computer.

He looks almost upset when he gathers your laptop in his arms with the rest of his things, but doesn’t push the issue any further. The air is too tight for anything, even a genuine goodbye. Your throat is sore with oncoming angry tears and you just want him out.

The door shuts behind him softly, in place of the usual goodbye kiss. You wait until you know he’s gone let it all out.

*** Yoongi opens your laptop when he’s in the back of the car taking him to the studio. It takes him a minute to remember your password, but he logs on with minimal difficulty and the last thing you were looking at pops up obediently.

The rest of your break from work passes without a visit from Yoongi again. It’s not a coincidence. It’s because you turned your phone off for 48 hours and even after you turn it back on, you mute all other notifications and only look at it to check your work email and tell your friends that you’re ‘unplugging for a bit’.

In that time, you get all your clothes sorted. You burn through an entire fitness-based podcast series.  You declutter your whole apartment. But there’s still an unpleasant buzzing under your skin that doesn’t go away. Even with the reintroduction of at-home cardio and the shady water fast you did that promised a lifted mood and a loss of 2 pounds.

Then you’re home from work one day, and you find yourself pacing all around the rooms of your place. You’re fed up with bottling things up, but you don’t know what to do with this knowledge. Yes, it’s nice to realize that everything you’d been chasing wasn’t worth the torture you put yourself through, but you can’t seem to get any further. So you try baking. And when that doesn’t put you at ease immediately, you break down and call Yoongi.

Yoongi picks up immediately. Part of you is surprised because he’s been working on new mixtape stuff and when that happens he’s usually unreachable. But another part of you isn’t surprised because, to him, you dropped off the face of the earth after a near-argument and he’s still technically on break from promotions for a little while longer. There’s no reason not to be answering the phone. In spite of all this, his tone is a tentative mix of concern and relief that has you blinking in confusion before curtly telling him you wanted to talk at your place.

He arrives in a defensive cocoon of layers and squared off features. Only one of the two he sheds at the coat rack by your front door before going to find you in the kitchen, just finishing shoving dozens of muffins into the oven.

“Hey,” he says after clearing his throat to make his presence known.

“Hey.” You turn around and remove the oven mitts you’re wearing. “We need to talk about some things.”

“I know,” he chuckles humorlessly. “I saw that shit on your computer.”

Your brow furrows in thought as you recall the last thing you used your laptop for. Recollection comes eventually. Briefly you wonder if Yoongi read past the top comments. If he gave into the urge to comb through every single one to satisfy morbid curiosity. You nod.

“It definitely has to do with that.”

“Fuck what those people are saying. You don’t need to change or to—to keep an inspiration pile.”

At that, you groan. Your fingers tap on the countertop impatiently. “Can you please stop saying stuff like that?”

“What? That you’re perfect the way you are?” He spits.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not true.”

“Why wouldn’t it be true?”

Frustrated tears well up in the corners of your eyes because while you get that this isn’t an issue he’d ever have to worry about, part of you still don’t understand how he doesn’t get it. He’s trying so hard to be a good, romantic boyfriend that he doesn’t even see how much he misses. It’s supposed to be comforting, you’re sure, but it only infuriates you.

“Because I don’t fucking match you like this!”

He jumps at the sound of your raised voice, eyes wide. “Match me? What the hell?”

“You heard me,” you mumble.

“Yeah, I fucking heard you, but it still doesn’t make any sense. You’re not signed to some stupid contract, you’re not mandated to do anything with your body.”

“Haven’t I, though? I signed that fucking non-disclosure agreement after all. And I get a fucking angry call from your PR agents every time I show up in your pap photos, even though my face is never in them.” At this point you’re pacing again. This time it’s in tight circles in front of your fridge. “You said it yourself, you saw those awful comments. You saw how mad people get when I don’t show myself in just the right way. Those fans ripped me apart, Yoongi.” Your voice cracks and you curse yourself for being an angry crier. Crossing your arms around yourself, you try your best to beat back the tears.

“So you’re going to let a few fans tell you how to feel?”

“A few fans?” You’re close to laughter. “Try six hundred comments on one photo. Six hundred comments about the person who isn’t even the celebrity. And then multiply that by the number of times someone’s caught me at an unflattering angle or when I was bloating or when I started gaining weight back for real. Do the fucking math, Yoongi.”

That shuts him down instantly. Immediately worry replaces the incredulity. “I—how many times has this happened? Is this not the first time?”

You sigh at his ignorance. “No, but this is first time I was dumb enough to read the comments.”

“Why didn’t you say anything the first time something like this happened?” Yoongi’s face is full of distraught guilt. It’s hard for you to look at.

“What do you want me to say? Did you really want to hear me say all this stuff about some of your fans? These are people that love you. And you love them.”

“I love you, too. You know that,” he whispers, voice raw with emotion.

You can only sigh again because you do know. He does love you. He loves you perhaps too much. At this point, it seems like he’s so infatuated with you that he can’t fathom that people would have issues with you. But he’s also so in love with his career that you don’t have the heart to show him the things you’re facing. The dissonance would be too much to add to his already-full plate. And knowing Yoongi, he might do something stupid and get himself in trouble with his own fans. You’d hate to be the cause of something like that in his career.

The oven beeps and you use that as an excuse to escape the way his eyes shine as he contemplates just how much he wasn’t aware of until now.

He leans on the doorframe to watch you pull out the muffins from the oven and drop them unceremoniously onto the stovetop. The muffins are perfectly golden-brown and give off a warm, sweet scent that fills the kitchen quickly. You stand silent with your back to him, shoulders rising with the careful breaths you’re forcing yourself to take.

“Do you still love me,” his voice is small when it floats over to you.

“Ughh,” you claw at your face with your oven mitts. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have asked you over if I didn’t. But...you have to understand that this is hard for me.”

“And what is ‘this’?

You turn and lean back against the counter, gesturing vaguely with a gloved hand. “This idol thing.” He tilts his head, not understanding. “I just mean that you have this amazing image because you’re out in the spotlight and I don’t want to sully that for you by...not looking like I should.”

“Why do you care about what other people think so much?”

“That’s so easy for you to say when people love you and you look like that. It’s different for regular people.” Your voice cracks once more as the shine lighting up your eyes breaks and runs down your cheeks. “It’s different because I’m already not deserving of you in their eyes. I can’t be regular and not look perfect.”

His hard demeanor softens at the sound of your sniffles and he comes to pull you into his chest, smoothing over your back. “Baby, there’s nothing wrong with the way you look.”

“I know that,” you sob. “I know that there’s nothing wrong with me, but you’ve seen what people say on those stupid forums. No amount of self-confidence could protect anyone from that shit.”

“Can I ask you something,” he says softly after a few aching moments of listening to you try to rein in your breathing.

“Y-yeah.”

“Who are the most important people in your life?”

“Huh?” You look up at him with watery lashes and he wonders how you could ever find fault with what you see in the mirror.

“Whose opinion matters to you most?”

“I don’t know,” you rub wet cheeks against the fabric of his top and think. “My boss since he pays me, obviously. And coworkers, I guess. My friends, definitely. My family, although they’re pretty easy to ignore.” He snorts. “A-and you,” you add on at the end hastily.

He gives you a sad smile when you look up at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean...doesn’t how you feel matter? You just listed a bunch of other people.”

“Of course what I feel matters,” you say suddenly. You push back from him to clear your head. The tears have stopped flowing, though your cheeks are still wet. “I just can’t go through the world only ever hearing or caring about what I think. But I like myself, Yoongi.”

He nods seriously.

“Even if it doesn’t seem like it because I’m shy sometimes, or quiet. I like myself. But it still hurts to have people tell me they think I shouldn’t. I’m not the type of person who doesn’t react when people attempt to hurt me. That’s the part that hurts the most, I think. Knowing that it was their goal all along.”

“I get that. Or,” He purses his lips, “I think I do. I want to get it, anyway.”

You give him a weak smile because he’s cute, even in moments like this.

He squeezes your hand before bringing it to his lips. It’s not quite a kiss, just him brushing his lips against your skin while he talks. “But I still want to be there for you. And I hate that I could only guess when you were hurting.”

“I should have told you, but I was embarrassed.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?” He moves back to pull up a chair at your dining room table. His gaze is genuine and engaged as he looks to you for an answer.

“I’ve been dieting since the company approved us dating privately. This is the first time I’ve been...normal around you. I was worried you’d have this epiphany. That I’m not who you thought I was.”

“Do you remember the first night we met,” he asks all of the sudden.

“Yeah? You came to visit me at work and freaked my supervisor out. She still has that napkin you autographed.”

“That’s not the first night we met,” he shakes his head and chuckles. “We first met at my party. The one your cousin brought you to.”

“Oh, god. I hardly remember that, I was so drunk. I think I blocked it out.”

“You looked like this back then,” he smiles softly at you, memories of that night settling over the surroundings as they play out in front of him.

“Yeah, I know,” you nod softly, eyes averted.

“And you were so pretty that night too.” His gaze turns slightly salacious. “In that little shiny dress you wore—what ever happened to that?”

“You’re dumb,” you shove him with a simpering smile. He merely grins before pulling you slightly closer towards where he’s seated at the kitchen table.

“You still have it?”

“Oh my god, leave me alone.”

He leans into your space, making you duck your head to hide the way your cheeks flare up at his personal attention. Seeing you like this makes something coil in his belly. In due time, he thinks as he backs off. In due time, he’ll really give it to you. But in the meantime he behaves and doesn’t do anything more than intertwine your fingers together.

“I’m donating the clothes from the inspiration bag,” you mumble into his hair.

He pulls back and is careful to keep his face neutral. “Yeah?”

“I did a lot of thinking. And I realized that I don’t think I can say I really like myself if I keep forcing myself into this...mold.”

His brows furrow, lips pouting prettily as he focuses on following your train of thought. “So, what does that mean now?”

“So, this is me. For a long time probably, unless something major happens. I’m telling you so it can sink in. This is your out.”

“Okay,” he stands up from his chair slowly. Large, warm hands come to cup your face tenderly. “And this is me telling you I don’t want an out.”

“Okay,” you breathe out a sigh of relief so deep you don’t know where it came from.

“Glad that much is worked out,” he says before planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Can I have a muffin?”

You roll your eyes but go and get a plate from the cabinet. He watches you carefully as you hesitate at the oven before gingerly putting two muffins on the plate. When you return to the table, you mumble something about just wanting to see if they came out good and he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a bite of one of your rare instances of culinary genius. He lets out a moan that makes your eyes widen and you take a bite before nodding to yourself.

“Just open a bakery already,” he says with a semi-full mouth and reaches out with grabby hands until you get the message to leave your chair. He pulls you into his lap and you try not to feel too self-conscious as you settle your thighs on top of his own. His hand lands on top of your lap casually, large hands splaying out on top to squeeze affectionately at the softness he finds there.

You worry you’re cutting off the blood supply to his legs but he sits happily with you in his lap and even kicks a little rhythm out while finishing his muffin. You get up and he snags the untouched part of your muffin before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

There’s a stream of messages in the group chat asking about his whereabouts and what he wants to do tonight. He answers that he’s with you and the other members all complain about how long it’s been since you visited them. Jungkook even tells Yoongi to bring you over to his place since they’re having a small kickback with just themselves and your post-break workload is still light. He purses his lips and asks for a raincheck, not wanting to push you into being on just yet.

***

A few days pass and the messages get more and more annoying as the other members whine about not having seen neither Yoongi nor you in far too long. So during one of the last days of their break, while he’s trying to dictate a cookie recipe to you, he breaks down at the 13th ping from his phone in a short period.

“Do you want to come hang out with me and the guys tonight?”

Normally if you’re invited over, you jump at the chance because you love getting out of your apartment and you like seeing Yoongi in his element with the people he’s closest to. But you don’t jump on the invitation now because it’s been so long since you last saw the guys and you know that you looked different then.

“I don’t know,” you fold toasted almonds into the cookie dough.

“Why not?”

“You know why,” you sigh. “And as nice as they are, I don’t really want to deal with the ‘did you do something with your hair’ or ‘wow you look so different’ comments.”

“They’re not gonna say that, they’re not total assholes. Look, if anyone says or does anything stupid, I’ll rip them a new one and take you back here.”

You purse your lips while you think it over. “And then will you stay the night?”

“If something stupid happens, I’ll cancel my studio appointment and stay over,” he smiles at you, eyes crinkling. “I’ll tell them we’re on our way now.”

“I can’t leave now,” your hands flutter up as you go from 0 to 60. “I’m a mess, I need to—”

“It’s just the guys. There’s literally no one there worth impressing. I would know.”

“Fine,” you groan. “Just let me change. I’m covered in flour.”

In your room, you find yourself unsure of what to put on. You no longer have any of the clothes you used to wear when you needed to feel like you objectively looked good. But you do have the gorgeous leggings Yoongi gifted you. You switch out your current shirt for a cleaner one and slip on a pair you’ve become obsessed with.

Yoongi punches in the code to the front door of Jungkook’s apartment while you hold the tin of cookies you made. Your fingers slip against the container due to having grown a bit clammy on the ride over. It took a heinous amount of time to wrap them in a way that would keep them warm all during the ride across the city. And now you’re nervous despite the fact that Yoongi sensed it in the car and hurled reassurance after reassurance at you.

But when Namjoon pulls the door open and greets both of you with a smile and a hug and no weird looks, you let out a tiny sigh of relief.

The guys crowd around you after Yoongi announces that you baked. Hoseok mumbles to himself about Yoongi hiding you purposefully so he could hoard your baking and takes two cookies for good measure. Jungkook says thank you politely before splitting one with Jimin. Taehyung takes two for himself and Namjoon and tells you ‘welcome back’. While the rest of the members snack, you count off the remaining sweets in the container and realize you didn’t give any to Jin.

The oldest member is standing in the hallway, drinking from a glass of water and scrolling through his phone when you find him. He must not have gotten the memo that you arrived, so you make your presence known by softly clearing your throat.

“Long time no see,” you smile at Jin.

He peers at you over the rim of his glass for a few long beats and you work to keep your smile natural. You can’t help but worry that he’s looking at the way you’ve has changed since he last saw you, chiseling away at the outside to see the familiar you he knows underneath.

“I guess it has been,” he finally says when he drains his glass. He leans back to rest his back on the wall. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, um, they’re just some cookies I made today. Yoongi had been bugging me about making them and I gave some to the others. I just thought I’d see if you wanted any.”

“I’ve always liked your baking.” He reaches out and plucks a cookie from the tin. A second later half of the cookie is gone. He chews thoughtfully.

“This is a new recipe, so I don’t know if it’s as good as it could be. I haven’t had much time for experimenting in the kitchen with work up until now so they might be—”

“I can only imagine how good they were when they first came out of the oven,” he finishes the rest and cuts your rambling off.

You stand there, oddly nervous, while he chews. When he finishes, he watches you fiddle with the lid so the cookies don’t get stale.

“Something’s changed about you,” Jin says finally, his eyes moving from your hair to your toes. You nearly drop the tin in your fumbling, and cringe from both the comment and your clumsiness.

“Yeah, I... gained some weight recently,” you blurt out in the hopes that it’ll be less uncomfortable if you’re the one to say it. But it’s not.

“Hmm,” Jin’s eyes rove over you more thoroughly, making you stand ramrod straight. “I don’t think that’s it. It’s something else, I think.”

“Oh. Well I don’t know, then.”

“What’s going on,” Yoongi’s voice creeps into the mix.

When you turn your head, you’re greeted with the sight of Yoongi in the doorway. He looks comfortably settled against the doorframe, like he’s been there for a while. His gaze isn’t directed at you, but at Jin, you realize. A quick glance back shows that they’re both looking at one another.

“Nothing. We were just talking.” Jin shrugs before walking over to you. A hand on the small of your back brings you with him and up to Yoongi.

Yoongi fixes Jin with a narrowed stare. “The guys were wondering where you both were. They want to play a game together.”

“We were here. No need to worry about us.”

“Well, why don’t you go in and tell them that? I’m gonna speak with my girlfriend.”

Jin gives him an amused smile before giving you a two-fingered captain’s salute and heading to the living room. It might have seemed dorky if anyone had done it, but you marvel over how cool he makes the gesture look. Yoongi turns to you then and takes in your distant expression.

“He didn’t say or do anything to make you uncomfortable, did he? Jin sometimes is a total asshole.”

“No, he—well, he said I looked different.”

“Do you want me to beat him up,” he steps forward to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Because I can, just say the word.”

“It’s really okay. He said it wasn’t just the weight. That it was something else.”

Yoongi’s lips thin as he tries to look for some other message in your words. “I don’t know what the hell that means.”

“It probably didn’t mean anything bad. Just let it go.”

Yoongi nods but takes both your hands in his to kiss them. You lead the way to the living room, feeling a little more like you can handle the night. There’s not much space with all seven members and you. You end up seated away from Yoongi, on the couch between Jungkook and Jin.

Somehow you get roped into playing some Mario game with two teams. You don’t know anything about video games, but you listen to Jungkook’s instructions carefully when you get one of the controllers because he’s one of your teammates. You’re not very good, though. Jin, your team captain, eventually has to maneuver his hands over yours so your character does the right thing.

“You sure you didn’t change your makeup style or something,” Jin asks during one of the rounds where you’re supposed to be playing against Hoseok.

The question takes you by surprise and you turn toward the sound of his voice only to realize just how close he is when he’s acting as a gaming coach of sorts.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Dunno,” he doesn’t look at you while he converses with you. He’s watching the screen with a hawk-like focus. “You just look prettier than I remember.”

You stutter around nothing, not sure what to say. In the end you settle for saying nothing, though you do spare Yoongi a glance. His gaze must have already been directed at you because you make eye contact immediately. Knowing that he’s probably just making sure you’re having an okay time, you give him a thumbs up and attempt to make Kirby spin on the large screen in front of you.

The night stays that same level of odd. No one else does anything out of the ordinary, barring Jin. He’s strangely attentive even after you get the hang of playing enough to take full control of the controller. After that point, he still slings an arm across the back of the couch, which makes full contact with your shoulders because of how tightly packed you all are on the couch. And when he wants your attention, he makes a habit of brushing his hand down your arm and sometimes leaving it there.

You figure you just don’t spend enough time with Jin to get used to him. But you’ve seen enough interactions between him and the younger members to know how touchy-feely they are with each other. Maybe you’re just enough of an extension of Yoongi to be included in that touching. So you try your hardest not to question it. It’s just nice to know you've been accepted that much and you start to lean into the touch like you would with your own friends.

Soon enough you’re taking part in the high fives that melt into hand holding when you score a goal.

‘Quite a feat for a beginner’, Jin tells you.

Yoongi watches from across the room as your face lights up once again from Jin’s praise. You look like you’re having wholesome fun and the urge to interrupt that is what kills him. But what kills him more is the way Jin’s thumb strokes gently against the curve of your flank as he gestures to something on the screen while Jungkook takes a turn with the controller.

He didn’t think he was the jealous type, but when Taehyung orders pizza one painful hour later, Yoongi’s come to the realization that he’s much more selfish than he knew. Jin whines until you let him feed you a bite of the pepperoni pizza on his plate, knowing you’re too nice to say no. You think this is run of the mill behavior, but even Jimin raises his eyebrows at the display before peering at Yoongi’s furious profile.

The last straw, though, is when Jin wipes a trickle of grease from the corner of your mouth and waits until you’ve turned your head to say something to Jungkook before sucking the residue off. At that, Yoongi stands up abruptly, nearly toppling over the empty box that was near his knees.

“It’s getting late,” he answers the curious stares watching him trudge over to you. “We should head out now if we still want to get back to your place at a decent hour.”

“Oh,” your eyes are wide, “You don’t have to. I know you wanted to do your thing in the studio tomorrow. I should be fine on my own,” you hint back to the promise he made to stay over if the night was a bust.

“I changed my plans already, so I’ll go later in the week. Come on, let’s call a car and go.”

“I can drive you guys. I brought my car,” Jin offers suddenly. His arm is back to resting behind your shoulders. And because his fingers are close enough to graze your shoulder, they do.

“You really don’t have to,” Yoongi bites out. His stare is potent with silent accusation.

“Yoongi, why not? Jin’s place is across the bridge from mine. It actually makes some sense, and I was getting kinda tired. If we wait for a car, I might not be able to get up early enough to go to that brunch spot you mentioned.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jin claps his hands with finality and gets up from the couch before extending his hand out to you. Much to Yoongi’s chagrin, you take his hand like it’s a genuine gesture of chivalry.

Jin somehow manages to get you to sit up in the passenger’s seat with him, leaving Yoongi to fume in the backseat. Occasionally Jin’s eyes will meet his in the rear view mirror and they’ll crinkle with impish amusement before returning to caressing your silhouette.

“So,” Jin says once he gets on the freeway. “Is our Yoongi treating you good?”

You laugh because you don’t see the game at play. “Of course he is. He’s the best boyfriend I could have asked for.” Yoongi’s resolve softens momentarily at your sincere tone. “I love him, even when he gets weird like tonight.” That comment has Jin cackling.

“You know,” he says once his laughter dwindles down, “I actually had the flu the day of Yoongi’s party. The day you guys met.”

“That explains why I didn’t actually see you there. I remember everyone else being there, though.” You gaze wistfully out the window. “I was too shy to talk to any of you guys then.”

“That’s okay. If I had been there, I would have talked to you.”

“That would have been a fun night, I bet.”

“Yeah,” he makes sure Yoongi’s looking in the rearview mirror. “Who knows how close we’d be today if I hadn’t gotten sick.”

Yoongi’s cheek nearly bleeds with force of his teeth gnawing on the inside. If he could, he’d reach forward and throttle Jin. But he’s driving so that’s not an option.

The torture doesn’t last much longer because about 10 minutes later you’re directing Jin to the parking garage of your apartment complex. The goodbyes are annoyingly drawn out and Jin manages to invite himself to brunch the next morning. All the while, Yoongi stands behind you, dying to get inside and away from the eldest member.

Finally, the door gets slammed shut before Jin can say something stupid about seeing you both tomorrow. Yoongi gives the door a smug look and then turns to catch a flash of your eyebrows raised in amusement. His eyes narrow and he approaches you slowly as you shrug off your layers in an almost too mundane way.

“What’s so funny,” he drawls. He attempts to peer at your face only for you to keep whipping it away every time he gets too close.

“Nothing,” you turn and give him your back while you smooth over your already made bed. “It’s just interesting watching you with Jin. I never really get to see you guys together.”

“What’s interesting about it?”

Yoongi starts unbuttoning his own outer layers with painstaking care, giving you ample time to twitch under the weight of his gaze. You fight to keep a smile from sneaking onto your face, but it’s too hard and you let your lips turn up in a little grin. He can’t see it, but he can hear it in your voice.

“You’re just cute when you’re mad.”

A muscle in Yoongi’s jaw jumps.

“You noticed that I was mad, huh?” He shirks off his jacket roughly, sulking in his subtle way. Luckily—or perhaps not luckily—you’ve come to recognize it well.

“I did.” Your voice is high and steady as you remove your sweater, leaving you in a soft and worn t-shirt. “I’ll admit it was entertaining. A little bit.”

“Is that so?” He hums.

“I mean, I don't know what you were mad about. But I could tell it wasn’t about something serious.”

He merely nods and watches you fidget. You peer at him through the side of your eye and see him meticulously undoing the clasp of his watch. From the way he moves slowly through the process of undressing for bed, you can tell something’s coming.

“Let me ask you something, then.”

“O-okay.”

“Is Jin still your favorite?”

“Are you kidding?”

You have to stop hunting for pajamas at your dresser and turn to him to see if he’s in fact kidding. But he looks dangerously serious, and you have to fight to keep your eyes from rolling.

“That’s what this is about? All this sulky Yoongi is because of that?”

“Just answer the question,” he shrugs his shoulders lightly.

Supposedly he’s calm and collected and not jealous, but his eyes are sharp as they zero in on you. Easily, he pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on. The steps he takes toward you are measured and slow. You still find yourself holding your breath as he comes to sit benignly on the bed across from you. It’s something he does sometimes when you’re getting dressed or undressed. Because ‘he likes the view’, he usually says. But tonight it makes you grab the first thing that you find out of your pajama drawer so you’re not leaving your back vulnerable.

“Of course he’s not my favorite anymore. I haven’t felt that way since before we got together.”

“I was just wondering.”

“Yoongi,” you sigh and pull the old t-shirt off to replace it with a sleep shirt. “When you asked me who my favorite was half a year ago I didn’t realize you were flirting with me. And I didn’t really know much about the group either.”

He nods like he thinks what you’ve said is completely reasonable and you stuff your legs through some of your yoga pants roughly. When you finish, you’re still standing defensively on the other side of the room. He looks up at you and beckons you over without a word. You feel compelled to move forward. Unsure of what would happen if you didn’t humor him.

When you’re finally approaching the V of his parted legs, he motions for you to sit next to him on the bed. You do.

“You know,” he begins slowly, “You looked like you were having a great time tonight.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Yeah, I was having fun. Even though it took a while for me to win a round. And even then I think Hoseok might have let me win.”

“Was Jin a good teacher?”

“Yeah, he was a good teacher.”

“I bet he was. He had a good student. He looked like he was enjoying himself.”

“Maybe,” you tap your finger on your chin pensively. “It didn’t seem like he hated having to show me how to play.”

“No, trust me, he was enjoying it.” Yoongi’s tone dips audibly, and you stop yourself when you realize what he’s implying.

“God, Yoongi, stop it. It wasn’t like that. He was just being nice.”

“I’ve known Jin a long time. I know what he looks like when he’s flirting. It started as soon as you walked through the door.”

“That’s crazy,” you mumble. But then you think of all the lingering touches and glances again and it clicks. “He...he was probably just trying to rile you up. Jin likes to mess with people sometimes. You’re always saying that.”

Yoongi pins you with an odd look. It’s partly amused, partly pitying. Then it turns cold. “You know, Jin’s been sweet on you since I first introduced you. The first night you met, he told me he used to date someone who looked a bit like you when he was younger, before debuting.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper again.

“You really didn’t know?” Yoongi leans in so the words practically brush against the skin of your cheek. “He was shoving himself all over you the whole night and you didn’t notice?”

You shake your head, at a loss for words. His hand finds its way to your opposite arm, pulling you closer to him.

“Hmm,” he hums in acknowledgment.

Then Yoongi’s lips are pressing gently to the skin of your neck. There’s a hint of something in the kisses that makes them feel a bit too heated to be chaste. At first you think it’s gratitude, but when you turn your head to meet his lips with your own, it’s clear that it’s not just that. His tongue snakes in between your lips, and you let it happen as you turn the evening’s events over in your memory.

“Yoongi,” you whisper between kisses.

“Hmm?” His large hands are splayed low over the swell of your back, a pinky finger just barely dipping under the waistband of your pants.

“I think I did know.”

“Huh?”

“I think as soon as he said that thing in the car—about being in your place—I knew he wasn’t just being friendly anymore.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles against your lips.

Taking you by surprise, he pushes deeper into your mouth until he’s stealing your breath. His lips are plush but insistent. And you’re conflicted. But suddenly he’s pulling away with a damp mouth and a firm grasp on your hip.

“You knew and made me sit through all that and then invited him to brunch in front of me?” He nips at your lax mouth. “That’s not very nice.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Don’t you think you should be punished, then?” When you pull away looking like he’s grown a second head, he shrugs mildly and like he didn’t just threaten to take you over his knee. “Or not. Your choice.”

[bubmyg]

idcilh (2) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, so much cheesy fluff in barely any words, me making fun of yoongi (again) when it’s not even about him

word count: 1,624

summary: “these have been done before but I don’t care I love her” - a series on gcguk in which jeongguk tackles old, cheesy YouTube couple challenges. episode two: not my arms challenge or “this one is called jeongguk wants a kiss.” “that wasn’t on the list—“

a/n: episode one (along with all other youtuber!guk drabbles) is linked on my masterlist :-)

“Ready?”

A silent scooch closer. A squeeze around his taut abdomen. A smile against his shoulder blade. A peck against the same spot. 

“I think so…”

Jeongguk curled a hand around your thigh circling his waist, twisting just enough to cock an eyebrow at you. “You know, this isn’t the cling to your boyfriend challenge?”

“Really?” You stretched your neck, pecking his cheek this time, “Bummer.”

His warm palm squeezed your skin once, pinching in it’s retreat and you squeaked at the reprimand, backfiring in his favor when you clung harder to his back, burying yourself into the floral scent of his laundry detergent stained into his bright hoodie. 

“Seriously. Are you ready now?”

You nodded against his skin, letting one hand go from where they were intertwined at his navel to give him a thumbs up, one you searched with until the curve of your digit jabbed into the bottom of his jaw. Jeongguk leaned this time, backward onto the mattress to take your stature with him, forcing you to scrunch the fabric at his ribs in your palms to hold yourself up and you buried your giggle in the back of his neck. 

“Hey guys—”

“Wait! Did you hit record?”

Jeongguk inhaled through his nose, exhaled all the same, “Yes.”

“Oh,” You ducked underneath his shoulder, watching the ascend of your hand to pat his cheek, “Okay. Proceed.”

“Alright, hey guys—” He startled when your hand previously patting his cheek rose to wave at the camera, a dramatic gesture that stirred your forearm where it was locked against his side, “—uh, as you can tell, things are a bit different today—” you drew your hands in a dramatic circle before reaching to his cheeks, squishing the pliable skin in your fingers as he blubbered, “—...w-we’re doing the not my arms challenge.” 

“Who’s we you ask?—”

“They know who you mean.”

“Come up here anyway.”

You happily stretched your neck, plopping your chin down on his shoulder as you beamed toward the camera, continuing to squish his cheek in your fingers like rubber putty. “Hello.”

“Okay, go back down, you’re ruining the illusion.”

“You’re right, because the aim of the challenge is to be realistic.”

“Anyway, we’ve made a list of simple mundane things and...we’re going to try to do them but without our arms.”

“Riveting.”

“Shh, my arms aren’t supposed to talk.”

The unwritten rule didn’t hold true when you struggled to stretch a soft bristled brush towards his hair, smacking the underside of his chin instead while he groaned in faux pain. “Bend down,” You whined, tapping him purposefully this time but a fraction softer. 

Jeongguk’s spine hunched just enough for you to fit your fingers into the fluffy curls rounding his head, letting you brush through the tendrils with the lopsided cock of the utensil until you gave up, tossing the brush aside to fit your fingers into his scalp. 

“Sometimes, you just have to give yourself a quick massage before doing your hair,” He was narrating as you flexed curved fingertips into the crowd of his head. “And then you…” You pulled your fingers from his hair, pinching haphazardly at different pieces of fringe until they laid, lopsided, against the blink of long eyelashes, shooting a thumbs up toward the camera, “...and then you’re done! Just like that, easy…”

“Generally, doing my hair makes me really thirsty so I just need to reach for my water bottle here—” The bulk of Jeongguk’s torso leaning forward took you with him, snatching the water bottle where it lay sadly off frame on the corner of the mattress. You mumbled against his neck, seriously, but he took no mind to your grumblings other than a soft giggle, watching as you fumbled at the lid before tilting the rim of the bottle towards his lips. 

Three gulps and a splash or two trickling down his chin to race under the collar of his hoodie later, you tossed the water bottle aside with your laughter hidden into his back as Jeongguk grieved, “...now that we’re done getting a drink, I think it’s time to update the old Twitter account—”

“The old Twitter account?” You were purposeful in digging around in the pockets of his sweatpants more than necessary, an off frame activity that the shot only caught the startled rise of his eyebrows and pink in his cheeks as you finally returned with the device, holding it comically in front of his nose, “Are you Yoongi now?”

“That’s not Twitter...that’s still not Twitter. That’s my email, please don’t respond to that—okay, you made it to Twitter. Wait, fuck, don’t retweet that—” 

Jeongguk stared absently at his phone screen while you clambered out from behind his back, sliding until you were seated next to him on the end of the bed. 

“What were you even trying to say?”

“Oh, I was trying to tag my account. Promo, you know.”

“You tagged Jimin.”

“Oh.”

You blinked at each other for a passing moment before Jeongguk shrugged, “Should I tweet it still?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

He locked his phone, tossing it upward on the bed before grinning, “Your turn, baby.”

You sat rigid while he clambered around you, draping his legs alongside your thighs, squeezing broad arms underneath yours, spluttering into your hair, and a ghost of his fingers dancing at your hip just to hear you squeak. 

“My turn I guess,” You narrated to the camera, “So first on our list…”

You startled when Jeongguk lifted one of your attached limbs by the forearm, dangling your limp wrist and hand into the air while your scrunched features regarding him in the viewfinder of his camera. 

“I have a request.”

“Yes, mysterious voice that’s coming from somewhere behind me.”

Jeongguk shifted behind you, index and middle finger gently pressing into the center of your cheek to turn your face toward him. A happy grin over took his features, one that scrunched at the sparkle in the cocoa brown of his irises first and then his nose, finally stretching into his teeth that lit up the entire lower half of his face, a smile that you couldn’t quite scold, even when he happily informed you of said request. 

“This one is called ‘Jeongguk wants a kiss’.”

You flattened your eyelids into two singular lines, glaring at him, forcing a harder, audible giggle from his throat. “That’s not on the list.”

He ignored you, sweetly pecking your mouth once, twice, a chaste second on the fourth, finally releasing you with a nuzzle into your cheek. 

“Okay, proceed.”

“So now my turn begins—” You faltered when Jeongguk shifted behind you, falling into position again to flatten two palms to your cheeks, framing your features, “...and I’m shocked about it?”

He pinched the apple of your cheek in his thumb and index finger on his right hand, retracting his grip on your slowly until his arms had fallen out from underneath yours as fast as they’d fallen into position. You were confused and you made it known when he muttered you’re about to be shocked into the crook of your neck but that question was left hanging in the air, what are you doing?, when orange fabric engulfed your head. 

“Jeongguk!” You screeched, thrashing around inside the belly of the hoodie, ignoring his giggled hushes of encouragement until finally you resurfaced in a ball of static and lack of oxygen, a pressure of fabric wrapped around the front of your neck from where the collar of the hoodie stretched to accommodate both you and your giggling boyfriend now plastered to your back. 

Flat palms fit their way underneath your thighs, lifting until you were fully seated on his lap, entrenched within the fabric of his hoodie. 

“Good news! We both fit in this hoodie.”

“This isn’t the challenge.”

“Technically, this is how you actually do the challenge—” You didn’t see him wink toward the camera nor did you catch the wicked smile that spread over his features, “—but in reality, I just wanted to do this.” 

You shrieked again when dancing fingers infiltrated the hoodie draped at your waist, tickling mercilessly at your sides while you were helpless to go anywhere, trapped mainly at the fabric around your neck but along with Jeongguk’s stature a framed fence, any partially open gate now shut and locked by muscle thighs and bracketed arms, and veiny hands digging into bare skin. You managed to shift within the hoodie, however, turning in his lap until you were taking refuge in the crook of his neck, your attacker your protector all the same and he quit with a gleeful laugh, happily tossing his arms around you (himself?) to hug you into him, cheek pressed to the top of your head. 

“Alright, well that’s it for this weeks video. Make sure to—”

“New merch,” You mumbled miserably into the column of his throat, body still on the tingling comedown from his assault. 

“Oh! Right...there’s a ton of new items in the merch store. Not this hoodie that we’re wearing but I’m sure you could trap your significant others in those as well. Your friends too. Anyone really—”

“Jeongguk.”

“Right, okay, see you next week, bye!” 

It was the normal silence after recording that followed then, you curled into his warmth, fingers tracing the twitching ridges of bare skin revealed to you, periodically pressing your lips to the decoration of moles sprinkled down the slope of his neck while he held you until his camera beeped and Jeongguk let out a soft noise of discontent. 

“I’m foreseeing an issue with this.”

“...an issue? Just one—”

“I have to turn the camera off.”

[goodnightallwhites]

♥ Liz, Blacked ♥ by Zenalite

Chapter 0 - Friend ♥

Liz got dragged on a trip with her parents while her boyfriend, Kyle, stayed home. While they were both introverts that spent all day inside, Kyle remained hyper-jealous of any attention Liz received from other guys. It didn't help that Liz insisted on keeping an Instagram to "feel good" about herself. She would always take a picture of herself in jeans or shorts, her showing her big booty to the world. Liz was a chubby redhead with no chest at all, but her hips stretched wide and her soft ass remained incredibly round. When she wore tight jeans the buns would fold over her thighs, the fabric stretching so much that the pantylines came clear. It especially bothered Kyle when some of the senior guys called catcalled her down the school hallways. But it was always the black ones that made a grab for her ass while Kyle watched, all helpelss. Liz cursed them and told him she hated it - though her cheeks reddened and she always giggled when it happened. And it hardly stopped her from buying ever-tighter pants and uploading pics that would get thousand of likes from old pervs. Kyle never found the courage to stand up and tell her to cut it out. She was so sweet on all other matters, and he felt so lucky to have her and so afraid to lose her that he learned to keep his mouth permanently shut. When she arrived, Liz texted him a picture of a large cabin surrounded by looming pine trees and distant peak, insisting that she couldn't stop sweating and it was much warmer than it looked. That wasn't on his mind. What about the guys? How many guys were there? But Liz would answer that herself... :there's such an annoying guy here omg: :what's he doing?: :annoying me: :maybe he's just trying to be friendly: :i doubt it lol he keeps asking me if i have a boyfriend: An hour later she Instagramed a picture of her with a guy, captioning: My new best friend! A black guy a little older than they were, very skinny, with his arm wrapped around her shoulder as they both smiled at the camera. Kyle's stomach twisted in a knot and a cold chill went up his spine. Why did this have to happen? She later explained that the guy wasn't so bad and she ended up making friends with him. During the call, she kept giggling and insisting at that other guy to stop, till she finally told Kyle she would call back and hanged up. Kyle broke down. He wept, frustrated by this black guy that would steal his beloved Liz. He decided to write her an email, pouring in all his sadness, trying to make her feel his hurt while justifying his jealousy sparked by her careless behavior. Liz responded. She apologized for her behavior but also wondered what she could do to stop this from happening since it was out of her control. Nevertheless, she promised to keep away from the guy and reminded Kyle that they had been together for years and always would.   But that wasn't enough. What he needed to know was what had happened already. He answered saying that all would be forgiven, so long as she remained truthful. The question was whether or not the guy had touched her. :yes: :and what did you do?: :nothing baby... i'm too shy to say anything: :you didn't tell me anything either: :because i'm scared...: Scared... For him, the arousal began to kick in. Thinking that the was being cucked from so far away, imagining that guy's hands going all over her soft and willing body, his white girlfriend submitting to a black guy, perpetuating the meme... :where did he touch you: :my butt i guess: :he grabs your butt: :yeah: Kyle couldn't help himself. The one question he would ask was the one that confirmed all cucks and opened the road to their annihilation. :did you like it: No response. Maddening. In that empty period he searched and found that Liz had added the guy to her Instagram and vice versa. Not only that, but she was featured in a post of his. She bent down to get something, and he managed to take a shot of her ass from behind, the fabric of her kaki shorts stretching to the breaking point as his hand hovered a centimeter away from making contact. Gonna get this white ass soon. Why was it always the case that black guys wanted her so much? Even her followers were always black guys... Finally, Liz texted back. :i'm sorry for all this: But later that night, on his page, he uploaded another picture of Liz, this time with the two of them sitting at dinner. So she wasn't avoiding him after all... Lying bitch. What's worst was that Kyle didn't know how to breach the topic anymore at all. It was likely that so much more was going on, but how could he begin to admit it? If he messaged her now and said that he saw the post, she would just get the guy to stop posting and he would be on the outs completely. The next day she texted him saying she hadn't spoken to anyone and that she sent her love. Meanwhile, he posted yet again. Liz lying facedown on a blanket, sunbathing in a bikini, her pale ass glistening.   Had he been the one to oil her up? Kyle was dying to know. The cuck in him was willing to sacrifice his dignity just to get to hear about it. He wrote to her that he was sorry about before, that he was too jealous, and that he would not mind at all if she spent time with that guy. :really? but won't you get mad?: She went on. :what if he touches me again?: :i mean if you don't mind i don't mind but i'd like you to tell me about it: Spoken like a true cuck. That sealed the deal. After this point, whenever Kyle would ask her what she was doing, Liz would tell him flat out that she was hanging out with her "friend". Questioned a little more, she would admit that the guy was trying to touch her up and flirting with her all day long. :i can't do anything about it: :i don't mind it: :you're so sweet ♥: :i actually think it’s kind of hot lol: A pause. :me too lol: So she liked it. Of course she did. It was all true. White girls melted before black guys. :is he touching you right now?: In response, Liz sent him a picture of her leg. On her pale thigh, just where her shorts ended, his black hand rested possessively, wrapping around... :that’s so fucking hot ♥: Kyle cringed at his own messages. :thanks sweetie…: Liz went and posted it to Instagram under the tags #interracial #interraciallove #vacation #teamblackboys. The thousands of likes soon followed. So this was what it was like to be cucked. :can i please see more ♥: :lol maybe if you’re good ^_^: His profile was full of pictures and videos of her ass, and now it appeared that he began to squeeze it for real. He laughed in the comments section at the fact that her white boyfriend was okay with all of it. Kyle jerked and stared as the same thing repeated on his screen: his black fingers digging into her pale flesh while Liz giggled happily and joking asked him to stop. Yet another white teen getting blacked. Was that not how it should be? Kyle got what he wanted. Pictures and videos flooded both their profiles, with them doing all sorts of things together. Finally, Liz topped it all when she posted a video of the two of them making out at the dinner table, while her parents could be heard clapping in the background at the sight of it. Young interracial love. They did it slowly, their tongues reaching out for one another, exploring each other's mouth, his black hand moving through her red hair and down to squeeze her plump butt. And Liz found it necessary to broadcast this to the world. Thanks to my boyfriend for being the sweetest and understanding my needs. Kyle, I know you're reading this ♥. The girls in comments congratulated their relationship for being so progressive and open, while the many guy followers laughed at Kyle openly. Total humiliation. And it was just the beginning.

Chapter 1 - Liz Thoughts #1

Liz couldn't sleep. All night long she thought of Derek. He had entered her life like a storm, stirring in her feelings she had never thought possible. Her whole body tingled with desire from the moment she put her eyes on him.   There he was, this gorgeous dark man, standing there shirtless, casually going around in cotton shorts that showed his dick swinging freely. And so big... How could anyone have a dick that big? She always heard that black guys were well-endowed, and a lot of the stuff she watched on her own was interracial porn, but she had never expected to see anything like it in real life.... "Who are you, beautiful?" he had asked, coming right up to her. Liz remained speechless. She couldn't remember what she had stammered in reply, but Derek smoothly ran his fingers over her arm and said he hoped to see her later. Her pussy ran wet constantly from that point on. And Derek put his hands on her whenever he could. Wrapping his arms around his waist, grinding her into his crotch, moving his hand down to grab her ass... She could feel the gigantic cock pushing against her, hot and hard, sending shivers down her spine... Please... With her parents right there. Was this real life? Not only did they seem to approve, but even Kyle began to asking her how it was going. They were supportive? Kyle seemed more desperate to see her getting blacked by Derek than she was. Her friends were right, he was a real cuck. But that made her happy. It was cute, and it gave her the freedom she needed... She still couldn't tell how she remained sane when he massaged her. Her parents had made her sunbathe with them outside, and when Derek returned with his family from hiking, he overheard her mother's cry that she use sunscreen and offered to put it all over her. His dark hands explored every inch of her willing body. Liz trembled and did her best to stop from moaning. Derek applied pressure all over, but especially when he kneaded the buns of her ass, spreading the suncreen all over, letting one finger occassionally slip between her legs and brush against her melting pussy. Liz wanted him. Needed him. Desperately. The more she thought about the stereotypical black-obsessed, cheating white girl she was becoming, the more it turned her on, and the more she loved it. Posting that video of the two of them kissing to Instagram had made her lose her mind, and she spent half the night looking at it, reading through the comments, finger-fucking herself like a lunatic as she imagined Derek fucking her. Better yet, fucking her in front of Kyle. Yes, that would be best... Breaking her boyfriend before her eyes and then breaking her in turn like a white slut and filling her up with his sweet seed. How could she sleep with this on her mind? With Derek just a door down from her...

Chapter 2 - Linking Up 

Things were strange.  While the overall number of messages between them increased, the sort of things Liz said and asked of Kyle made him uneasy. Why was she so interested in knowing his opinion all of a sudden? :have you ever jerked off to my photos?:  That was her original question that he gave a normal, understandable, positive answer to. :have you jerked off to the photos of me and him?: :yes: :lol:  The reaction alone made his guts wrench. There was no other reason to pose such questions except to humiliate him, and she seemed intent on doing just that... :why:  He took his time before replying again. :because you look so good together: :awww thanks baby...:  Liz and her family were about halfway into her vacation. Kyle hadn't left his room, never mind his home, for days. This whole thing remained surreal. The idea that she would come home and he would have to talk to her in real life after all this happened, or, worse, that kids from school would ask him what's going on made him feel sick.  What was there even to say?  Liz's profile grew and grew. More people than ever were liking her content and commenting positively on it, which seemed to increase the frequency of her posts.  Every morning she would have a dressing-up vid where she started off in her boyshorts, only to force some jeans or yoga pants over her fat butt inch by painful inch, pushing the waistband into the white flesh and jiggling it for effect, showing off before her black male followers.  #pawg #goodmorning #toobig  Everyone knew what his girlfriend looked like.  And everyone knew she cucked him.  As hot as it was painful.  Only in the darker moments after he was all fapped out did Kyle think to wonder about their future. :do you still love me?: :of course!!! how can you even ask that?: :because you're spending all this time with your... friend: :well he makes me very happy but in a different way:  As for what way that might be she soon clarified with another message... :in a way that you can't:  That was the crux of it, wasn't it? It wasn't that he was bad. It wasn't that he had been a bad boyfriend, or anything like that.  But he just happened to be a white loser, when he needed to be a black bull in order to satisfy Liz.  He knew this now.  It was easy to tell from the way she had fallen head over heels for this guy that it was nothing rational, nor based on trust and romance as their relationship was.  Liz simply needed a black cock in her life to make her feel whole. And it seemed to Kyle that by letting her get that, she loved him for it, even if she couldn't stop teasing him about it. :am i a good boyfriend: :the best honey: :could i do anything better?: :well not as a boyfriend: :then as what?:  A painstaking half hour until her reply. Did she just do this on purpose? :you could be a better cuck:  Kyle's heart drummed so hard he could barely hear anything else. Did she mean that? Did she want him to... :what can i do: :be a bit more supportive... maybe start commenting on my stuff:  So he took the time to make an Instagram account of his own, and on it added a picture of himself without a description, and followed her. Then he liked all her posts, and planted emoticons in the comment sections of most. :is this good: :nooooooo: :okay but why?: :there's no picture of us!!!:  He changed his account picture and added one they had taken together at a local faire. :now?: :and description:  Description... He could write his name, his age, but what else? :what do i say: :exactly what there is to say:  A few minutes later, he had come up with a description.  I'm Kyle, honored to be the boyfriend of @paleredliz, and proud to be cucked by her. I know my place. :is that good: :♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  Next she uploaded a video in which she tagged him in the caption. She was on the couch lying on her chest, with her ass in the guy's lap. First she smiled, and as the camera panned behind her, his black hand slowly rolled back her shorts, exposing her pale ass. Then his fingers plunged into the deep flesh, kneading it hard as she began to giggle.  When had he ever touched her that way?  Never, and he never would.  That beautiful round ass was the property of black men only.  Kyle let it play over, and over, and over....  Thanks to my boyfriend @cuckiekyle for being so supportive of me getting all the love I need no matter where it comes from. I love you, honey!!! #pawg #interraciallove #teamblackboys  Kyle finally found the courage and commented as well.  I love you too, it's my pleasure. You two really look so good together. #interraciallove  He couldn't believe what his hands were writing and what he was posting and yet he did it anyway. His cock just hardened all the more at the thought of all those people reading that comment and knowing that he was real, and that he truly did approve of this and spurred it on.  And the comments did come...  The hottest thing was just how many teen girls wrote saying he was brave and a proper boyfriend and that they wished they could be with someone like him. Not ugly girls. Gorgeous ones.All encouraging each other to take the same path and convince their boyfriends of accepting BBC into their life for the good of everyone.  Of course, plenty of white guys all called him a stupid cuck, but going by their ugly faces and their soulless profiles filled only with pictures of food, cars, and their dogs, he doubted they were doing much better.  The message was clear: White guys neither wanted nor needed.  Why be proud and suffer when you could submit and live well?  Liz texted him. :thank you for that: :i was happy to do it: :you really are a good cuck baby ^^: :thank you...: :i have a surprise for you: :please show me...:  The gift wasn't what he was expecting. Rather than receiving a picture or video of Liz, the photo was of her bull's crotch. He wore a pair of shorts that outlined his cock snaking down his thigh perfectly... with the head even popping out of them a little.  He did not need her prompt. :it's so beautiful!!!: :right it's huge and tummy:  Here he was, admiring another guy's cock with his girlfriend. But how could he not? It was so thick and long and black. She needed it inside her. He desperately wanted her to have it.  It was his duty to make sure she got it. :i can't wait for you to taste it: :lol you're telling me: :i'm so much smaller than he is: :lol but it's okay you don't need to use yours:  That was true. He would never have to use it for anything ever again except stroking himself.  He was, after all, just a white cuck.  Fucking was for strong black males. :should i invite him to my room tonight: :please do...: :okay i promise i will if you want me to:  Kyle waited anxiously for it to get dark. :did you invite him: :yes baby i did: :and??:  A video went up of them in bed together shot from her POV. Liz had her thick leg wrapped around him, her naked thigh gently brushing against his rising crotch. His bulge was huge. His hand rested casually on her ass in the corner of the video, the contrast of it maddening.  He needed to take it out...  This was followed by a video of the two of them making out, their Liz giggling as her tongue smacked against his, their faces lit by the glow television.  He had never seen Liz look so desperate and at peace at the same time.  Kyle commented on what a perfect sight it was. :holy fuck baby it's so big:  That could only mean one thing. :did you touch it: :fuck yes lol it's amazing: :can i see: :sadly no but maybe soon... more tomorrow: :please just a little bit... at least tell me about it:  There was no reply. He insisted. :please?:  Silence. 

Chapter 3 - Loyalty

The whole night he stayed await waiting for a reply until he fell asleep. By the time he woke up Kyle found his phone drained on his chest. He rushed to find the charger, excited out of his mind to see what Liz had been up to. Surely she has to have sent something by now. First his phone showed no messages at all. But then the thing buzzed in quick succession like a man in need of an exorcism. There were twelve messages from Liz along with some updates from his instagram. :baby!!! :i’ve got such a surprise for you… :^.^ And then over the following half an hour: :baby are you there? :honey :aaaaaaaaa :where are you now? :i was so excited to share this with you :i guess i’m not important enough for you :huh? :oh well :maybe tomorrow Kyle couldn’t believe it. He had fallen asleep only minutes before she messaged him, and he missed out on all of it! The frustration built up to such an extent he was moments away from crying. He had missed this once in a lifetime opportunity… :I’M HERE NOW :I AM SO SORRY :SO SO SORRY!!! There were no pictures sent to him - nothing. With trembling hands he went to check her instagram page and found that she had uploaded two different pictures. The first, posted sometime last night showed her grabbing something through fabric. But it didn’t take much for Kyle to figure out that the thing her dainty white hand wrapped around must’ve been the bull’s shaft through his shorts. The people in the comments thought as much as well. They spammed with messages about how lucky Liz was and how she needed to show them the full thing. And then there were a few cucks posting about how they couldn’t compete with anything like that. The second, posted an hour later, showed her pale butt in the glow of the TV getting palmed by the guy’s hand. The fact that the strong black hand could only fill up about half of her asscheek proved just how round and fat her ass truly was.   Now the comments were going crazy with appreciation for her juicy white ass, and plenty of black guys were posting about how they wanted a turn with her as well. :god, your pictures are amazing :you’re amazing Kyle stroked himself gently, trying not to come as he waited for her to get back to him. He needed to hear about her experience firsthand. About an hour later she finally got back to him. :glad you think so… :shame you weren’t there last night :i was going to let you give me directions Fuck, he thought. I’m so stupid. How could he have passed out like that? :i’m really sorry… :how can i make it up to you? :i’ll think about it :but first i still have a surprise for you It said: Liz is sending an image… Kyle swallowed hard, unbelievably horny. He wiped the sweat from his brow and squeezed his pencil dick hard. Not to come, but to keep it from doing so… The picture that arrived wasn’t what he expected.   He thought that it would be Liz making out with her bull or stroking him, or at the very least a picture of her together with him in bed. But the picture didn’t even feature his girlfriend in any way. Instead, it only had the bull. Only his BBC. Kyle stared at the beautiful cock that appeared on his screen breathlessly. It was neither hard nor soft but somewhere in between. The shaft jotted out like a log from the base, then slowly curved along with the pull of gravity, tapering down to the uncut head. Glorious veins branched all over it - he couldn’t begin to imagine how it must’ve throbbed in her hand. :do you like it? < 3 Kyle felt no hesitation in telling her the truth. :it’s amazing :he’s teasing me with it a lot :getting me to do dirty things :before i’m allowed to do more :like what? :secret, baby, secret :at least for now :but i did make you a video last night :though... :i was thinking you should prove to me how loyal you are :in order to get to see it :how? The reservations about posting on his cuck account were totally gone. He would do anything to get to see more. Anything at all. :how about you order yourself a nice chastity cage? Ah. Of course. After reading through all these blogs he knew that was a necessity. :I’LL DO IT :good honey <3 :as soon as you show me :i’ll give you your surprise video His mind reeled at the possibility of what that video might be. Her giving him a handjob? A blowjob? More? Surely she wouldn’t tease him in this way for nothing. It had to be something. He went on a search to find the quickest place to buy have one ordered, then realize it would be quicker to just go and get it in real life. He couldn’t wait a day for this. Kyle greeted his parents quickly when he came out of his room, then hopped on his bike and went to the nearest store in town to get one. Am I really doing this? he wondered as he cycled back with it in the bag. There would be consequences to all this. How could he go back to school? But the worries of a month from now all faded away for the time being. He locked himself up as soon as he got home and sent her a picture of his pink chastity cage. His pathetically small white dick fit snugly in it. :awww, it’s so cute < 3 :i love it darling :this is exactly what i wanted His fingers shook the phone as he typed. :can i see now? Liz is sending a video…   How could anything be this slow?

[creativeskullcreations]

Outside chapter 3: Food?

Third chapter is out! Not much to say about this one, expect that we finish up the day with some delicious Chinese takeout! Nothing heavy going on in here! Nope! Not at all!

When Stacy felt Scout was sufficiently distracted, she pulled her laptop out of her bag. 'Let's see, what was the group that guy was a part of? Vox I think...' She searched the group on Google, and found them almost immediately. She clicked the link to their website, and was struck by how professional it looked.

'So these guys are paranormal investigators...' From what the site said, they were a professional team that specialized in locating and researching. Specifically, they went after the newer, modern activity, like the Waygetter toys, or cursed animatronics.

'Where were you guys when I was a kid?' She shook her head. 'Focus, Stacy! Forget the past, focus on the present! You have a different problem to solve...<' She scrolled down and clicked on the contact button, which gave her an email address. She clicked over to her own email and typed in the address, but paused before writing anything.

'What do I even say to them? They didn't believe that Anthony guy, and he was one of them. Maybe if I send them proof...' Her eyes drifted to Scout, who was staring at the TV. Her attention was completely taken by the show, and she seemed oblivious to what Stacy was doing and thinking. 'A picture might not be enough, but maybe a video? But would she even agree to it? And could I even do that to her?'

Stacy shook her head, closing the laptop with a small sigh. 'I can't. Not right now. Maybe once things are settled...' She moved the computer to the side and stood up, stretching as much as she could. She then went into the kitchen and started digging through Sammy's fridge.

'Ugh, he's such a bachelor. There's nothing in here but some old lettuce and leftover soup. He'd better be buying groceries on his way back from work, or I'm telling Aunt Hannah he has no food again.' She closed the door, and then grabbed some bread and peanut-butter from the cupboard, and the last clean knife from one of the drawers. She quickly made herself a simple sandwich, cut it in half, then went back to the couch.

"Where'd you go?" Scout asked when she'd sat back down. She flopped over onto her lap, making Stacy jerk her plate up to keep it from getting hit. "You're missing the show!"

"I've seen it before, don't worry." Stacy assured her as she bit into the sandwich. "I'm not missing anything important."

"Hey, what's that?" She climbed into her lap and peered onto the plate, reminding Stacy of a cat. "Is that Host Food?"

"Yeah, it's a peanut-butter sandwich. I got hungry, and it was all Sammy had to eat, other than gross leftovers." She took another bite of sandwich, not really paying attention as Scout pulled the plate down a little. She watched the Puppet grab the other half of the sandwich 'Gross.', and examine it closely. Then, without warning, she tore a bite off and started chewing.

Stacy froze mid-chew, unsure of how to react. While she knew Scout had to have organs, she hadn't thought she actually could eat anything. It was quite surreal, watching a thing made of cloth chew and swallow real, human food.

"Hmm, not bad. Kind of sticky, though." She smacked her lips, then tore off another bite and turned back around to keep watching the show, leaving Stacy feeling like she'd smoked some of her cousin's weed. She shook the feeling off, though, deciding to come back to it at a later time. Like maybe when she'd actually had some weed.

Instead she finished her half of the sandwich(since she apparently only got to have half, now), and then pulled back out her laptop. She opened up a new doc, and started drafting up some plans.

'One way or another, I'm gonna figure this out.'

Several hours later, and Stacy had not figured it out. She had maybe one and a half pages of notes on the Puppets, most of which was on just Scout, and three different plans.

1. Go to the police.

-Too Risky for Scout

-Can lie about what's going on if needed

2. Ask Vox for help.

-Way too risky for Scout and me

-Can't lie to these guys about it

-They would know what they're doing tho

3. Arson.

-Has potential

-Can have a bon fire and roast marshmallows while we do it

-Could get arrested but might be worth it if we can get all the Puppets

-Might also be worth it just to see Scout try and eat a melty marshmallow

So far, plan number three was looking like the best one. It still wasn't the absolute best plan, but it was all they had at the moment. She'd have to talk to Will and see if he still had those gas cans in his garage.

"Hey, are you guys still here?" Stacy started at the sudden entrance of Sammy, surprised at how late it had gotten. She shut her laptop and put it to the side for now, standing up.

"No, we left and stole all of your soup." She told him. What you're seeing now is a hunger induced hallucination."

Sammy paused, the held up a plastic bag with a panda on it. "So you don't want the takeout I got?"

"Oooh, gimme!" Stacy rushed to snatch the bag from her cousin. She brought it over to the table, pausing briefly to pick Scout up from the couch. She started to set the food out while the Puppet settled over her shoulder, watching what she did. While she worked, she also pointed out what each different food was.

"So, all of this stuff is rice. We don't normally eat it, but they include it anyways with some of the meals. This is teriyaki chicken, and this is-"

"Stacy, really? Why would it even need to know what that stuff is?" Sammy tsked as he sat at the table and grabbed some noodle dish. "It's stuffed, and can't eat."

Stacy just stuck her tongue out at him and sat down. She picked up a pair of chopsticks and set about showing Scout how to hold and use them properly.

For awhile, they ate silently as Scout watched them, which Stacy personally thought was a little odd but didn't want to say anything. If the Puppet wanted to be weird, then she wasn't going to stop her. Sammy, on the other hand, soon fixed her with a hard stare and cleared his throat.

"So." Stacy looked up at him mid-chew, cheeks bulging. "What are you going to do when you get back to your apartment?"

She swallowed hard, putting on a more thoughtful expression. "Go back to class, tell Carol I can't do the article and why, maybe go tell the police about the psychopaths in the warehouse." She shrugged, digging out another bite of chicken from one of the boxes. "Y'know, stuff."

"And what about...?" He gestured to Scout with his chopsticks, and the Puppet glared back at him. Stacy, in a stroke of seldom seen genius, offered the Puppet her chicken before she could say anything.

"She's coming with me, of course. I live alone, so there shouldn't be a problem." Scout chomped down on the chicken, to Stacy's mild surprise. She quickly picked up some more food for herself. "Besides, Will is gonna love her. They're so much alike."

"Okay, ignoring the fact that you just fed that thing," Scout made an offended noise. "that sounds like a shit plan. There's no way in hell the police will believe you without proof."

"Fine, you're right. I have a back-up plan in the works, too." She thought back to her arson idea as she offered another bite to Scout. "But it needs work, so I can't put it in action yet." ‘And gasoline. Lots and lots of gasoline.’

"... Where's that food even going, anyways?" Both Sammy and Stacy turned to stare at Scout, who didn't even pause in her chewing to send them both a glare. Obviously, she wasn't going to be explaining anything, so Stacy turned back to her cousin.

"I have no idea. Don't think too hard on it."

'Don't think about why you're feeding her, either.' She ignored her own thoughts to shove some more food in her mouth. That was something to think about later. Or, perhaps, never. Never seemed like a much better time.

They finished their food, with Stacy giving Scout a few more bites, then boxed up the leftovers and put them in the fridge. Stacy then made Sammy get them a blanket because "It was too cold last night I almost froze to death!"

"It wasn't that bad, Stace." He told her, but fished out some spare bedding anyways. "It was near sixty."

"And yet, you had the air on or something. I swear it was colder than that in here." She insisted. She almost shivered just thinking about it. "You need to turn the AC off."

"The Ac's not on." He frowned at her, head tilted like he was studying one of his patients. "Maybe you're getting sick? You did spend God knows how long running around an abandoned warehouse with open wounds. I wouldn't be surprised if you caught something."

"God I hope not." She muttered, helping him spread the blanket out on the couch. "I gotta drive back to my apartment tomorrow. I don't wanna be sick while doing that."

"Well, if you do come down with something, promise me you'll go straight to the walk-in clinic or ER." Sammy told her seriously. "It could be something worse than a cold, like an infection from the stitches."

"Promises are curses." Stacy responded automatically. "But if something comes up, I will go to the walk-in. I don't wanna die after going through all of that bullshit."

"Wow, you're swearing. Must have been some pretty bad bullshit." He joked as he handed her a pillow. She resisted the urge to hit him with it.

"It was the second worst thing I've ever been through. It was horrible, and I hated it, but now it's over forever." Her eye twitched slightly as she placed the pillow on the couch, and saw Scout watching them from the side table. She was overcome with a childish urge to knock Scout over onto the pillow, which she quickly did.

"Wha-? Hey!" She pulled the blanket up over the Puppet, and heard a soft snort of amusement from Sammy.

"Are you ever going to grow up." He shook his head with a sigh as they watched the blanket covered lump move around.

"Nope!" She told him cheerfully. "I'mma be a kid forever!" She noticed the lump had stopped moving and leaned down, reaching for the blanket. "Uh, Scout? You oka-"

"DEATH FROM ABOVE!" Scout hit the back Stacy's head with far more force than necessary, knocking her onto the couch. She then bit onto the top of her head, though that didn't do much.

"AAUGH! How'd you even get up there?!?" She became aware of laughter and turned a death glare on her cousin. "Stop laughing! It's not funny Samuel!" She threw the pillow at him, but that didn't stop the almost hysterical laughter coming from him.

"Oh my God!" He gasped out, collapsing against the couch. "She just came out of nowhere! Holy shit!" He fell onto the floor while Stacy wrestled the apparently feral Puppet off of her head. She held her at arm's length, trying to simultaneously give her a disapproving look and check her over for injuries. It was hard to do, however, as she kept trying to bite her hand.

"Dude, seriously? That's not even gonna do anything to me..." She watched Scout thrash for a moment, actually struggling to hold onto her. "Okay, seriously, stop it right now, or you're going back under the blanket and I'm gonna sit on you." That got her to stop, but she kept up the death glare.

"Geez..." She looked over at Sammy, who was coughing on the floor, finally finished laughing. "It wasn't that funny..."

"It was fucking hilarious." He retorted between coughs. "Instant karma." He took a deep breath and started to pull himself up from the floor. "I like that Puppet." Stacy just sighed. "Whatever dude. Glad to know my pain is what made you like her." Unconsciously, she hugged Scout close and sat on the couch. She grabbed up the remote to turn Netflix back on, wanting a distraction from her humiliation. She let Scout drop onto her lap, and resisted the urge to drop her head into her hands.

'Defeated by a hand puppet. I'm never living this down.'

Sammy climbed up onto the couch seconds later, still wheezing. He went to speak, but another death glare shut him up before he could start. So he just shot her a smug look instead, holding out a hand for Scout to fist bump. "That was a pretty great move." He told the Puppet. Stacy ignored him, but heard a quiet "Hell yeah!" from Scout. "You should do it again the next time she does that."

"Do you want to die?" Stacy deadpanned, but Sammy just shrugged as he finally settled in to watch the show with them.

"Hey, it's just a suggestion." He couldn't keep that grin off of his face, and it was starting to annoy her.

"Whatever." She resolved to just ignore everything for now and watch the show. Sammy attempted a few more times to draw her into conversation, but quickly gave up when she didn't answer him and started watching too.

A few episodes later, however, and Sammy stood up and stretched. "Well, I need to get to bed, I have work tomorrow." He started towards his room. "I'll be gone by the time you two leave, so make sure you lock up tomorrow, okay?" "Kay. G'night Sammy." Stacy gave a halfhearted wave as he left, leaving Host and Puppet alone for the night.

"Leave?" Scout asked after they heard his door close. Stacy glanced down to see the Puppet staring up at her, a worried look on her face.

"Yeah. We gotta go home tomorrow." Stacy told her. "I gotta tell Carol about what happened at the HQ and find out what she wants me to do about that article. And then classes start back up soon, so I've gotta be back by then." "... I thought we were staying here." Scout said quietly, and Stacy felt a pang of... something. She wasn't sure what, but it made her feel bad and she decided right then that she hated it.

"Eh, it was more of a stopping point, really. Some place to get my mouth cut open and you off my hand." She shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "And as much as I would love to hide here until I die, we can't actually stay on Sammy's couch forever. He doesn't have any food, and would expect me to clean."

"..." Scout was silent, and no longer paying attention to the show, instead staring down at her hands as she played with the hem of Stacy's shirt. The Human felt like she should say something, but didn't know what. Instead she stopped the show and turned off the TV, dropping the Puppet to the side and standing up.

"I'm gonna get ready and go to bed myself. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and I want to make sure I'm ready for it." She started towards the bathroom, almost missing the quiet "Okay." in reply. She hesitated at the doorway, but forced herself through anyways.

Scout would figure out it was better this way. Her apartment was even further from the HQ than Sammy's was, and thus safer than Sammy's. Plus, it would be better if it was just the two of them alone, and they could figure things out.

Things would get better, starting tomorrow.

They had to.

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 25/?

Gaming Chat AU [xuexiao + songxiao = ?]: “Lie to Me”

[tw cyber bullying; tw use of slurs; tw fake suicide mention; there’s a redemption arc, but it starts with 15yo Xue Yang being... well, himself I guess. so be warned.]

[attn!: I don’t know shit about playing games and going to quests with strangers on the internet so bear with me. if you feel inspired by this please, by all means, feel free to use this prompt and write something and then tag me so I can read it and reblog it!]

[enjoy!]

*

It’s been 15 years since that idiotic intern at the school counseling center suggested him to... what did he say? “Channel his anger in something productive”. And then tried to talk Meng Shi into purchasing a fucking computer to let him “get off some steam” by killing fictional people instead of smashing actual valuable objects like, say, the principal’s Mercedes with a stolen golf club, or, the nurse’s desk with a fire extinguisher back in middle school.

Good thing Su She had disappeared under mysterious circumstances after Xue Yang had surreptitiously let the intern’s uni professor know in a detailed email how the aspiring counselor had suggested him (a sweet innocent 15 year old) to use his new computer to watch porn instead of focusing on his studies. Song Lan was much better than him, and bitchier too, which was fine by Xue Yang anyway. Not that he cared.

What good had that stupid glorified television brought him in the end? Most of the computers at school had become intimately familiar with many a malware and virus already with how frequently he used to browse through the deep web. The ones at the local library had let him in on the secrets of 4ch*n since the tender age of 8. Hell, even his pediatrician had made the glorious mistake to leave him alone in her office one merry day of winter when he discovered the wonders of x-rated videos.

But Meng Shi had tried to cheer him up anyway, buying him that stupid thing. Working her ass off at the bar trying to make social services forget she used to be a stripper back in the days. All to provide a place for children in foster care to feel safe, the stupid hag. Xue Yang wasn’t fucking stupid, he knew she was collecting money for every kid ever stepping inside her ratty flat. He knew that she would have never adopted anyone for real because she already had a son and she was working to send him to university anyway.

Yet, she had come home one day with a big smile on her youngish and bland face, hoisting up the heavy computer in a box, and told Xue Yang to share it with his siblings. Yeah, fuck that. That little bitch A-Qing was even worse than him, and she probably used to sell feet-pictures recycled from the internet to disgusting men online. To this day Xue Yang is none the wiser and he doesn’t need to know what that fucking witch had been up to at 14. XuanYu would have used the computer to stream and torrent shit nonstop to sell at school even if he was only, like, 12. Qin Su was 15 like him and she would have been tempted to set up a fucking YT channel and subject him and XuanYu to whatever scientific experiment she would have come up with. And Meng Yao had too much embarrassing blackmail material on Xue Yang already, he didn’t need to have access on his erased search history after digging gods-knows for how long.

Ahah no. No thanks.

But detention got him occupied for so long by cutting library books pages down to papermen without getting bored out of his mind. And he did have his fun that one time when he caught a pervert with a hand down his pants when they chatted on Om*gle after Xue Yang had catfished him good by pretending to be a girl. Got everything on tape and published the whole interaction on the school website for everyone to see. Which had been appropriate at the time, given that the man had been part of the board of directors. Fittingly hilarious too.

Still, boredom loomed over him like a quilt of sadness on summer break and he had been tempted to log in and play games in the end. Nobody wanted him in their stupid ass teams anyway, with him having higher kill counts than them and all, not following tactics and so on. Whatever.

Until one day user shuan_ghua naively trusted Xue Yang when the other assured him that “teabagging“ was just a fancy slang for ordering a cup of jasmine tea. The 17 year old boy named Xiao XingChen had thanked him for teaching something new to him and then proceeded to ask him to join his one-man-party out of fucking nowhere.

Everything changed after that.

[more under the cut. it’s long long tho]

XXC family!:

XXC is 17 at the beginning of the story and he used to live with his mother Baoshan [i know that “Sanren” and “Daoren” are titles, but in absence of a real surname I will use them as such for this prompt. feel free to change that if you take inspiration from this post to write your take on the story] and the rest of their family on a mountain before they moved back to the city in Gusu.

XXC’s mother was barely 20 when she got married the first time and her first son Daoren YanLing was born. two years later her husband died and she travelled a lot afterwards, adopting 4yo CanSe when she was 25. then she married again at 41, had XXC at 44, and then divorced at 48.

CanSe eloped with ChangZe when she was 18 and got WWX at 20, the same year her own mother got married again (at 41).

BaoShan got XXC three years later (at 44).

hence, WWX is 3 whole ass years older than XXC despite being his nephew. both boys find the thing absolutely hilarious.

YanLing and CanSe are only 1 year apart and they still bicker nonstop. both of them went to school with Lan QiRen and his older brother and frequently got in fights back in the days at Gusu.

(if YanLing had a thing for Lan QiRen, well, nobody has to know)

XXC, being the baby of his family, is doted on by YanLing and brought to mischief by CanSe until XXC’s father divorces their mother and they move on the mountain along with ChangZe and 7yo WWX.

up on the mountain BaoShan works as a tour guide and she takes baby XXC and WWX on hikes along with tourists to admire the beauty of the scenery.

XXC’s sight starts deteriorating when he is 12 and WWX is 15. they have been homeschooled until then, so when it gets clear XXC will not improve much so far away from proper healthcare, the whole family moves back to the city in Gusu.

XXC is not comfortable leaving his new home, not with all those new noises and flashing lights. WWX is drawn to them instead, more than happy to enroll in school, where he meets JC and he realizes the boy is the son of CanSe’s middle school boyfriend. WWX declares them to be almost-brothers and is perfectly fine with adopting even JC’s older sister in the family and CanSe can only laugh at that. JC and YanLi visit XXC often as a result and they help him make sense of the new environment without stressing him too much.

YanLing finds a job as a cook in WWX’s school and he is back to making Lan QiRen’s life impossible after learning the man is a teacher there.

LWJ and LXC’s mother is a music teacher there as well and YanLing bonds with her to make Lan QiRen life’s an absolute nightmare.

LWJ and LXC make friends with the mountain gremlins and they are initially horrified by their manners: XXC would pick food from the ground and eat it, it doesn’t have to be his for that to happen to begin with; WWX doesn’t realize he should cut his nails (both for his feet and hands) until he is forced to wear shoes outside and not climb up trees, for he assumed nails simply never grew bc he used them constantly, wearing them down; etc.

LWJ hates himself for falling for WWX but he cannot care less.

LXC notices how lonely XXC feels when wangxian becomes a thing, so he buys him a computer to better gather more information about the world and adjust the settings to maximum accessibility whenever XXC wants to read something.

by the age of 17 XXC is mostly left alone in the house: WWX goes to uni; his mother BaoShan works at a local museum; his brother YanLing is trying to not get fired at his job; and his sister CanSe has started to travel with her husband selling the delicate dizi flutes ChangZe makes as an artisan.

XXC is also on the waiting list for an important eye surgery and he figures he has a couple of years to go before he will either lose his sight or be granted a second chance at life altogether.

XY’s family!:

Meng Shi had Meng Yao at 19 and started stripping the following year in Yunmeng. 

her friend SiSi helped her both financially and emotionally, spending time with A-Yao while she worked at night. after four years she can move out of her flat and finds a job as a bartender downtown. she would have kept her old job, if SiSi hadn’t convinced her to think of A-Yao first, who was painfully shy and didn’t know how to socialize with other kids his age.

at 24 she starts the paperwork to become a foster parent and has to child-proof her entire apartment before the first kid arrives. at 25 she welcomes Qin Su, who is only 5, and initially A-Yao doesn’t want to share his mother with anyone. the situation gets bad to the point social services have to take Qin Su away one year later, because she tried to set A-Yao’s hair on fire in retaliation once, but two years later Meng Shi gets her back.

A-Yao, now 9 years old, has thought about it and reasoned that having a sister wasn’t so bad after all. Qin Su is only one year younger than him and she will not take up much space, right? wrong. but they bond over their shared nerdiness and while A-Su likes to blow things up, A-Yao helps his mother with taxes every year.

at 29 Meng Shi takes in XuanYu, who is not an orphan like A-Su, and still misses his birth mother fiercely. she had to give him up for adoption when he was 3, because she had been only 15 when XuanYu was born and her family threatened to disown her. 

being profoundly deaf on top of that, no foster home wanted to have him and he was kept in the system for three years after his mother had to let him go. the woman had tried to be present for him while he waited for a family to pick him, teaching him sign language and reading lips, but she had been forced to eventually let go.

XuanYu arrives at Meng Shi’s when he’s 6. A-Yao (10yo) and A-Su (9yo) try their best to involve their new brother, but they don’t know how to communicate with him. SiSi takes the children to sign language classes at the community center after school and XuanYu warms up to them. he teaches Meng Shi what they learned the previous day every morning, before going to school. teachers don’t really pay attention to him, but he manages by reading lips when people face him properly, which is a rare occurrence, but he tries his best.

when A-Yao and A-Su realizes A-Yu is being bullied, they start to get nasty, setting backpacks on fire and terrorizing the other children at school. even when they move to middle school one after the other nobody picks on A-Yu, fearing what his siblings could do.

XY arrives at Meng Shi’s when she is 32 (A-Yu is 9, A-Su is 12, A-Yao is 13) and XY is 12. A-Su initially gets jealous bc they are the same age, but XY doesn’t talk to anyone for a year and ignores her attempts to rile him up. Meng Shi had been warned about him: his father had killed his mother and then failed to kill himself afterwards... and XY still believed the man was out there, looking for him to finish the job. XY had lived on the street for years before social services could find him, but he had felt trapped like a dog, not wanting to be touched, frequently running away.

XY doesn’t remember much of his life before entering foster care. he only knows everything is a bother, that his nightmares give him constant migraines, and that he doesn’t care how he lost one of his fingers. but anyone who makes fun of him for that gets kicked, that’s for sure.

it’s only when A-Qing (12) comes one year after XY’s arrival that things get a bit better... so to speak. 

she is even less well behaved than him, thrashing around at night, screaming at the top of her lungs, saying that she doesn’t want to be there. that she’s better than the rest of them combined. 

her anger issues trigger something in XY and the two of them get into fights with each other constantly.

A-Yao (14) and A-Su (13), reminiscing of the 2 years they spent apart because they couldn’t stop hitting each other up, take the issue seriously and convince Meng Shi to ask for help. SiSi is the one taking A-Qing and XY to therapy two times a week and they are followed through by professionals who know how to tackle their issues, an elderly woman who goes by the name of Lan Yi (LWJ and LXC’s paternal grandma) and her assistant Wen Qing, an intern working there for uni credits.

one year later XY is 14 and A-Qing is 13 and they... don’t really love each other, but at least they can talk to one another without trying to kill anyone in the process. they spend a lot of time with A-Yu (11) and learn sign language to keep him entertained.

by the age of 35, Meng Shi has 5 kids and can barely afford food for herself but she is happy like never before. A-Yao (16) is already considered smart enough to attend advanced math classes in high school. A-Su (15) has won a science competition sponsored by city hall. A-Yang (15) is trying to work on his anger issues with video games, making friends online. A-Qing (14) doesn’t let anyone make fun of her for her dyslexia, asking adults and classmates to take her issue seriously for once. And A-Yu (12) wants to learn how to sign in different languages to maybe travel the world one day.

Meng Shi is very happy indeed.

now, the plot: (tw fake suicide mention; tw use of homophobic slurs)

XY (15) and XXC (17) meet online every night before bed, playing video games together. XY made a mistake first time they chatted, saying he was 17 instead of 15 bc he didn’t want the other to look down on him.

XXC trusts him a little too much and doesn’t question if his new friend is lying to him or not. he’s the funnies person he has ever met, after all.

WWX (20) notices something is wrong by the way XXC starts speaking around others, using inappropriate language when he has never been anything but polite and gentle. even if, technically, XXC is WWX’s uncle, the latter sees the other more like a cousin than anything else given that he’s older. so he takes the matter in his own hands and one day asks him to let him play games with him.

XY doesn’t like his only friend not telling him someone else would have joined their party, and initially he covers XXC in insults and threatens to leave. but then WWX is really good at killing fictional people and XY reconsiders. he makes fun of WWX for being the older one AND the other’s nephew at the same time, but aside from that he doesn’t try to run away like a caged animal anymore.

WWX trust XXC when the younger says XY is 17 like him, but he still supervisions most of their sessions just to be sure XY cannot teach too many horrible things to XXC. WWX wants XXC to make more friends and maybe one day leave the house to attend university if the other will feel inclined to do so, but he doesn’t pressure him.

in the meantime, XY changes counselor at school and it is Song Lan (23) who tries to make a better human out of him. SL is deaf and occasionally uses cochlear implants to hear, but only because his family made the choice for him to have surgery when he was only a child. he can speak if he feels like it at times (not frequently, he’s very adamant about reminding others he doesn’t owe them anything. he’s also trying to make a change at the school where he works by organizing classes on Deaf culture and sign language for the students to take as an elective)

XY already knew of SL thanks to XuanYu, bc A-Yu had seen the counselor at the community center where SiSi usually takes the kids to for sign language classes. counseling at school doesn’t really happen one-on-one, detention kids being too many to follow one at a time and all, but when SL comes by to chat with them he’s always funny as fuck and XY (who will never admit it) feels good about being the only one in class able to understand SL only through sign language.

SL forces himself to talk to the kids and read their lips only bc... well, they’re young and did nothing wrong to him. he occasionally asks XY to help him translate, but aside from that there are really too many kids to look after and he doesn’t treat XY differently from the others, nor he notices him much.

two years pass and XXC (19) announces to XY (17) that wangxian (22) is having their wedding. since XY has learned all about their family, he asks XXC if it’s a common thing to get married super young in their household and XXC laughs... but it’s a sad and brittle thing and XY gets a bit worried.

XXC reveals then that soon after the wedding he will have a surgery to (hopefully) fix his sight and he’s very anxious. he timidly asks XY if he wants to go to the wedding with him, because he would like to see his face at least once before the surgery.

XY panics: he knew XXC’s eyesight was bad, but he never knew to what extent exactly; he’s not really of age yet, so he cannot move on the other side of the country just to attend a wedding; he has never talked specifically about XXC with his family and Meng Shi is working a lot and A-Yu should get his hearing aids soon and A-Qing needs help for her finals and... and...

...and he’s not ready to meet XXC.

XY lied to him and told him they’re the same age. he had never told XXC his name, even if the other had revealed his own, always going by his username jiang_zai. he called him and chatted with him and made fun of his own family and the other had been nothing but kind and amazing and... and... and XY realizes he’s been in love for a while and he abhors the idea to the point where he openly laughs at XXC and calls him a sap.

XXC notices the change in his tone immediately and wonders if he’s overstepped, if he’s asked too much by inviting the other over to celebrate with the rest of the family. XXC apologizes to XY and begs him to not step away like he usually does when he feels cornered.

XY feels absolutely cornered and attacks XXC by asking him why he’s so keen on asking him out (“are you a f*g or something?” etc.). the other doesn’t even know what that means but hearing XY so scared hurts, bc he doesn’t want to make the other uncomfortable in any way.

XXC does like XY romantically, but would never dream to say anything and hinder their friendship. yet, it hurts more to hear his only friend so afraid and angry. he apologizes profusely and promises him not to bring the subject back.

after that, XY doesn’t log in much, avoiding XXC. A-Yao (18) notices he’s sullen and tries to spend more time with him, but the younger doesn’t budge and talks less and less. even SL (25) sees XY less and less, but he doesn’t thinks the younger one is actually skipping classes or anything.

but XY is, in fact, skipping school and Meng Shi covers for him saying he doesn’t feel well enough to go to class. she knows something’s up and she also understands the need to have days off in order to take care of yourself when everything goes to shit.

wangxian wedding happens and XXC is both happy and sad. they made him the official photographer of the day, which is both sweet and incredibly hurtful, because he’s the one taking all those beautiful pictures... and maybe he will never be able to look at them ever again after the surgery. WWX and LWJ already had to organize the wedding earlier than what they originally planned to accommodate XXC and the date of the surgery. XXC feels bad but he’s very happy for them.

YanLing and CanSe worry about him and they ask their mother to help them figure out what’s going on. BaoShan agrees with WWX that XXC had a fight with a friend, alright, but that cannot be all, surely...

it’s the week before XXC’s hospitalization and WWX takes the issue in his hands. logs in pretending to be XXC and plays until he takes XY’s place in the rankings of his and XXC’s favorite game.

XY receives notifications about it and initially fumes at the idea of being outranked, but then he understands what XXC is trying to do and doesn’t know how to react.

he does something horrible instead.

WWX waits to be contacted by this jiang_zai boy who broke XXC’s heart, but when it finally happens... it’s not the familiar, high-pitched voice he expects to hear in the chat. it’s a girl (A-Qing), who tells him her brother had died and that he won’t be playing games anymore. she sounds too serious to be joking and WWX tries to ask more about it... but she just tells him her brother killed himself before ending the call.

WWX doesn’t have the heart to tell this to XXC, not before the surgery and not until he has properly recovered (one year later).

XXC had wondered about XY in silence, not trusting himself to reveal all about his crush to his family, worrying about making the other boy uncomfortable. 

XXC misses XY, but he is patient. he can wait.

A-Qing had agreed to lie for XY only because he lied to her first: he told her a creep on the internet had tried to meet with him and he needed a way out; outraged, A-Qing had helped him without a second thought and answered the chat in his place. 

this spurs her to take more seriously what she and her siblings had been doing on the Internet and reconsiders some of the things she herself posted in the past. she will take this topic so much at heart that she will pursue an academic career to become a social worker.

XXC’s surgery goes well, but he still loses his sight after a while. WWX ends up telling him what happened to his online friend and XXC is so heartbroken he doesn’t even blame WWX for keeping the secret from him for so long. 

after some time BaoShan makes sure he goes to therapy and takes better care of him, helping him figure out what to do. she fears people will look down on XXC and, as a blind person, he will probably be hindered by the system to pursue a career, so she retires from her job at the museum and focuses all of her attention on him.

XXC feels guilty for XY’s passing, but he doesn’t think the other had been triggered to commit suicide bc of him: XXC simply fears XY had hid a different type of sorrow from him; a pain so deep that XXC had failed to see while they were playing silly games. so, three years after the surgery, when he’s 21, he enrolls in uni to study psychology to help kids who are struggling to ask for help.

15 years after XXC and XY had met online:

XY is 30 and a professional carer. he studied to become a nurse, of all things, after what happened. he got a lot of time to think about the horrible thing he had done to XXC and considered helpings others to atone for that.

he is the first to say such a choice was very out of character for him, and even if he has to bite his tongues at times he doesn’t mind his job: it keeps him occupied and exhausts him well enough... but after working in the hospital for 5 or so years he decides to become a carer and trains to help disabled people in particular in his late twenties.

A-Su (30) has become a chemical engineer and married a man working as a lawyer (who happens to be LXC), while A-Yao (31) ends up moving in with his best friend (NMJ). A-Qin (29) doesn’t find romance interesting enough to give up on her career as a social worker, so she doesn’t really move out of Meng Shi’s old flat and everyone is fine with that. A-Yu (27) has graduated from uni and travels the world as an interpreter. Meng Shi and SiSi have lived together since the first has adopted all the kids and they opened a B&B near the seaside. they are wives and very in love.

XY lives with A-Qing in Yunmeng until his late 20s and they fight a lot for stupid things (like when A-Qing makes fun of the boring people her brother hooks up with on the regular, or when XY tries to coerce her to do the fucking laundry by tickling her into a pulp of pain and tears), but otherwise they work well together.

A-Qing is working at the community center as a social worker to help the kids find purpose in life and use the internet safely. she still believes a creep had tried to mess with her brother and doesn’t want anything to happen to the kids under her care. XY knows this, but never got around to tell her the truth, believing it would have been pointless to reveal her how everything she knew had been a lie. even her own purpose on top of that.

A-Su’s husband (LXC) rarely got to speak with XY in person, the latter busy with his job as a nurse most of the time, but during a dinner party LXC has to suddenly leave because of an emergency: his brother-in-law had been brought to the hospital after a car crash and lost the use for both of his legs.

one year later, XY (29) coincidentally becomes WWX’s personal carer and decides to move closer to the man’s house in Yiling since it would be troublesome to help him as efficiently otherwise. XY does not recognize WWX (34) from his voice or name (he did play games with him in the past, sure, but he knew him as XXC’s nephew by the name of Wei WuXian, not Wei Ying, which is the name LWJ uses around him) and helps him around the house and out of it.

WWX’s husband (LWJ) is frequently out of the house to work as a lawyer like his older brother and entrusts WWX to XY, even if begrudgingly so. 

WWX pretends to be fine, but he has a tendency to try to sneak out and walk on crutches without anyone noticing, so LWJ has asked for a carer to come to their house every day. XY doesn’t have to bite his tongue as much around WWX, their interactions easy enough for the both of them to work together despite bickering about the stupidest things.

XY discovers WWX is friends with Wen Qing (37) (the same intern who helped the psychologist take care of XY and A-Qing while they sorted their shit out in the past). 

he meets her and learns from her how WWX’s family had moved in Yiling to help him recover after the crash. her brother Wen Ning is the physiotherapist helping WWX regain control of his legs, but there are basically no chances for him to go back to be a professional athlete even if he were to walk once more.

this new information spurs XY to force WWX to rest more and take his situation more seriously. they work together to find possible solutions and WWX decides that he would much rather have his legs cut off from the knee down that suffer through the pain of having multiple fractures splitting him apart day after day. the surgeons had done their best to save his legs, but the fractures had compromised his nerves maybe forever and the pain is now unbearable.

LWJ trusts his husband but he’s weary at the idea of having him evaluated for amputation. XY refuses to feel responsible for the tension in the house, since this is clearly what WWX wants. XY knows WWX is secretly considering running again on prosthetic legs in the future, but he doesn’t want to anger LWJ more by mentioning it. it’s too soon to know anyway, and who is he to tamper down what little hope WWX has managed to harbor for himself after an entire year drowning in grief?

one year later WWX (35) gets permission from his physician to get prosthetic legs fitted for his needs and he couldn’t be happier. his family visit him more frequently now to congratulate him, even his grandmother who has descended from the mountain where she retired to in order to celebrate him.

XY (30) has already met WWX’s parents and his oldest uncle, but he never suspected them to be related to XXC, because he had never knew them by name. 

yet, one day Song Lan (38) comes in with a huge backpack on his shoulders and recognizes XY immediately. XY doesn’t know why his old counselor is there: he knew WWX’s other uncle was coming over, but he never imagined it was SL they were talking about. 

SL is beaming at him, signing he met XY’s bother A-Yu during one of his travels as a tour guide and that they kept in touch. SL has come to know XY is the reason behind WWX’s recovery and he tells the younger man that everyone in their family is happy XY has appeared in their life.

XY doesn’t have time to answer, overwhelmed with this sense of belonging, this sense of being finally, finally accepted somewhere outside of his own family... that someone else enters the house with a backpack on his shoulders.

XY doesn’t know the man and SL enthusiastically guides him over to meet the newcomer. XY is surprised to hear SL speak out instead of using sign language as the older man asks “A-Chen” to come meet “his nephew’s savior”. based on the pronouns SL has just used, XY recognizes the newcomer to be WWX’s actual uncle and he smiles at the beautiful man in front of him...

...only to be filled with horror the minute the other speaks.

XXC (32) greets XY without knowing who he really is, smiling at him without even recognizing the younger man’s voice. the two of them had never seen each other, playing games only through chats and calls... but XY recognizes XXC immediately, aware that his own voice has changed drastically over the years.

XY is still transfixed and petrified when XXC asks him if it would be okay for him to touch his face to have a better idea of who he’s interacting with. XY doesn’t even register himself voicing his consent when he feels XXC’s hands on his face. only then he understands the infamous surgery had failed and that XXC did not regain his sight after his nephew’s wedding.

overwhelmed with grief, guilt and longing for what never was and never could be, XY is unaware of the tears rolling down his cheeks as XXC gently trails his features. XXC apologizes when he feels his palms dampening and he asks XY if he overstepped. next to them SL is distressed, not understanding what’s happening in front of him.

XY shakes his head and simply says... that he lost someone and that XXC reminded him of that person. then he excuses himself looking for WWX, to ask him to give him something... anything to do. he gets himself a task to accomplish and leaves the house brimming with relatives that he will never be able to call his own.

1 year later:

XXC and SL do not leave the city as they originally planned. they have travelled long enough for the time being and they decide to get a house close to WWX and his husband. they spend the following year after their return looking for stability and peace.

XY (31) didn’t stop working for WWX (36) and doesn’t plan to. not now that he got his new legs finally fitted. the recovery takes long, but it’s already been two years since the amputation now and WWX tries his best every day. he believes to be a handful and doesn’t dare ask for things he needs after receiving the prosthetics. XY is there to loudly remind him to stop being an idiot and that he is paying XY to boss him around however the fuck he wants. LWJ is very grateful to hear WWX laugh more and more these days thanks to XY.

XXC (33), however, is frequently around his nephew’s house, keeping him company. before his three-or-so years of traveling with his boyfriend SL, XXC has briefly worked as a psychologist with Wen Qing, of all people and the two of them have applied for a position at the community center in Yunmeng at the same time. there isn’t one available in Yiling and the commute shouldn’t be too bad. during that first year after his return, XXC has met A-Qing multiple times to inquire for a place at the center in Yunmeng and they are quickly becoming more involved with each other because of their shared passion for the job.

XY feels the end nearing, time ticking away. it had been an agonizing, brilliant, terrible year the one he had spent so close to XXC... and it is now coming to an end. knowing that A-Qing will eventually tell XXC how and why she became a social worker, spilling everything about how “her pitiful bastard of a brother had been molested by a pervert online” and so on. he only hopes A-Qing will never get to meet WWX... she would absolutely recognize the other man’s voice and accuse him of being the pervert in question and XY... XY will die.

XY feels trapped and he will most certainly have a stroke the moment XXC will realize that he lied to him, that he is still alive, that his reason to become a psychologist to help troubled kids was not a real thing... XY will die and Meng Shi will cry.

only because he lied about being 17 when he was 15 one day of 16 years ago.

XY disappears the same night XXC tells him he invited A-Qing over. SL (39) is overjoyed at the idea of meeting the girl once more after the time she and her step-siblings used to go to sign language classes at the community center in Yunmeng. WWX is interested as well, having heard all about A-Qing from XY along the years.

but XY disappears anyway.

2 years later:

it’s XuanYu (30) who finds him, but doesn’t ask him to go back home. A-Yu takes XY (33) with him in his travels for some months to hide him. he doesn’t ask him what he did in those two years, but he does force him to call Meng Shi and SiSi at least.

XY complies but still feels empty inside. the single year he had spent with XXC while the other visited WWX will be permanently engraved in his memories and he cannot stop thinking about it. about how gentle XXC had always been with him, how sad he had looked and sounded reminiscing an “old online friend who had died many years back”, how generous he had always been towards him and everyone and... and XY cannot do this anymore.

A-Yu may be younger than him, but he protects him well for those months... waiting for XY to tell him the truth. so one winters night finally XY does, starting from the beginning.

the following week, close to New Years, XY realizes A-Yu had betrayed him.

someone rings the bell of their shared apartment and A-Yu asks him to go open the door. XY does and it’s A-Qing (32) and WWX (38) who greet him with tears in their eyes. A-Qing tackles him on the ground and tries to hit him they way they used to do as kids, fists getting the point across faster than any word ever could, but WWX pries them apart and hugs them instead.

somehow, XY had not been notified of having acquired a new sibling, but WWX clearly considers him a brother of sorts and he had missed him greatly. A-Qing explains that A-Yu had sent her an email with XY’s version of the truth, sure... but she also tells him that she and WWX had solved the mystery soon after XY’s disappearance already, after talking extensively on the matter.

A-Qing had recognized WWX as the person she had talked to in chat all those years ago, that is true, but she also realized WWX was not, in fact, a bad person and that something didn’t add. when she understood who XY’s online friend actually was... she had felt sick to her stomach for having let someone as kind as XXC presume XY had killed himself bc of him.

hurt and confused, XXC’s family and even A-Qing’s one had initially blamed XY for the pain he had caused, the lot of them filled with anger and grief. especially BaoShan, who had felt guilty for not supervising and protecting her younger son better when he was still too naive to understand the ways of the world.

but then, seeing XY was not coming back, Meng Shi and SiSi insisted for XXC’s family to help them with the search instead. after two years the lot of them missed him. yes, even those who still berated him for his poor choices in life.

XXC now knows the truth and only wants XY to come back home.

some days later:

XXC opens the door after hearing the bell and he knows, he knows who the person in front of him is. he already had his suspicions back when he used to visit WWX every day two years back. WWX’s carer reminded him so much of his friend that... that he may have hoped.

but now XY is back and he has a name and a face and is alive and XXC greets him with a smile as the other hugs him and never lets go.

XY has never been happier in his entire, miserable life.

and XXC will never lose sight of him ever again.

the end.

[now imma go weep for fucking ages. also fuck typos.]

[oh-so-scenarios]

Tell me...Say It [4]

Word Count: 4.5K

Genre/Warning: Angst, **mentions of death, fluff, Yoongi x  Female Reader, CEO AU, Pianist AU

A/N: Please excuse the errors, there are quite a bit.

⇾ Updates on Sundays 

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♫

I sit in the leather couch that was set in the middle of our big living room. My eyes were trained on the 13-inch MacBook air that rested on my lap. I was focused enough to barely tune out Da-hee’s loud voice. Barely.

“Y/N! Why do I feel like you’re not listening?” She accuses. I sigh and look up at her from under my eyelashes. I look back down at my laptop screen, typing up the reply to an email from an old high school friend.

“It’s because I’m not listening.” I finally reply resuming my typing. I can’t help but smirk at the groan of irritation that leaves her lips.

“Y/n, seriously, that was so embarrassing!”

My brows furrow at her words, “What was embarrassing about it? And since when do you care about what Mina thinks?”

She shakes her head, “Not Mina! Yoongi! The guy that was sitting at the piano.”

I nod my head slowly feeling like I should have known better. Da-Hee was basically drooling when I dragged her out of the music school. Though the ride home was filled with her bursts of anger, she mumbled the man’s name to herself a few times.

Yoongi….Yoongi. Where have I seen him before? I stop my typing, anxiously searching my mind to match his face to another memory. I have totally seen him before. You don’t forget a handsome face like his.

I start typing again, only for an image to appear in my mind. I gasp out loud, my hand coming up to my mouth out at the realization.

“What?” Da-hee hisses, “Did the whole incident replay in your head? Do you finally understand how crazy you looked?”

“No,” I dismiss her statement, “I remember where I’ve seen that man, Yoongi, from.”

Da-hee demeanor changes. She raises her nose up at me and crosses her arms.

“You’ve met him before?” She seems curious for my answer, watching my reaction intently.

“Yes,” I almost laugh, “Remember that blind date you had me go to?”

Da-hee groans and throws her head back. She puts her hand on her face before running her fingers through her tangled and frizz bed hair. I was wondering why she woke up so early today. Was it just to yell about me about the incident from 3 days ago? She’s been doing it every day since, but must she start from the morning?

She stands in front of me in a long and large black tee shirt. The letters “FG” pasted on it in big white font. Her morning slippers on her feet while she stomped them around out of frustration.

“That was him?” She cries, “Really? Y/n don’t mess with me! I’m not in the mood this morning!”

I lean back at her words, “Yet you’re in the mood to bother me? I am not lying. It was him! I told you he was cute didn’t I?”

“Damn,” She mutters under breath, “I didn’t know he was that cute.”

I look away from her emotional break down to open a new tab in my internet browser. I decided to find some videos on youtube to watch. I’m thinking that Da-hee will make an overdramatic exit out of the room like always, but she remains in her spot.

“Y/n, we’re still discussing this.” She informs me.

“There is nothing to discuss. You don’t need me, you can still make costumes for their play. It has nothing to do with me.”

“But imagine if I told them I convinced you to work with them! That would put me in a good spot with Yoongi.”

I scoff at her argument, “You want me to do this so you can get a guy to like you? Why don’t you try winning him over with your personality? Or your looks like you usually do?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

Her argument isn’t strong at all, and the pestering she’s doing won’t help her case. Before she could speak anymore, I cut off her words.

“Da-hee, you already know I don’t play piano anymore. I don’t compose anymore, period. What made you think I would let them use my work, let alone work with them?”

“But you love music! You love the piano, and you’re amazing at playing. You have to start back up eventually.”

“Says who?” I snap harshly.

“So you’re never going to play the piano again?” Da-hee sounds surprised. Didn’t she know that was always the plan? What was she thinking?

“Yes,” I answer simply.

An exhausted sigh leaves her lips, “Y/n...everyone knows you were born to play the piano! You know that! Are you telling me you don’t miss it?”

“I’m telling you that I am not going to help with that play.” I corrected.

“Jeez, when will you move on?” She whispers to herself. I find myself slamming my laptop shut, glaring at her with wild eyes.

“My parents died, Da-hee. You don’t get to speak to me like that.” The words leave my mouth like they were poison. Da-hee stares back at me with sad eyes.

“I know that Y/n...but damn, you’re still living aren’t? Well...just barely living.” She turns around and stalks out the room, her slippers squeaking against the wooden floor. I am left alone with my thoughts and the silence.

It almost feels like the silence is a hard hit in the face after Da-hee’s words. Just barely living. Why is that statement causing such a heaviness in my chest? I stare blankly at the space that Da-hee once stood in. My mind moves back to my 16-year-old self, the painful memories forcing their way into my mind space.

“Y/n, are you ready?” Mina said as she smiled at me. Her hands rested on her pregnant belly and I couldn’t help but smile back nervously.

I stood backstage at the Piano Composing Championship. This was a big deal, or at least that’s what everyone says. All these competitions were nothing to me. As long as I got to plan my music, and have it meet people’s ears... I didn’t complain. I looked towards the grand stage where a young boy sat at the black grand piano.

He was younger than me, yet he played beautiful, his piece showing the freshness of being young. It was clear in the way his fingers bounced off the keys and dancing gracefully.

I exhaled and leaned forward enough to see the front row of the audience where two seats remained empty. I stared in disappointment, expecting to see my parents there.

I turned away from the stage to look at Mina. She looked back at me expectantly, “What’s up darling?”

I stretch my hand out, “Can I have my phone, please? I would like to call my parents.”

Without any protests, Mina hands me my phone after digging it out of her purse. She was holding it for me, seeing as my plain red dress had no pockets. I am thankful to my parents who always drive crazy distances for my performances.

After moving to South Korea because of my father’s military duties, I wasn’t expecting to meet Miss Mina who further helped me grow my piano skills. Since I was younger I showed an interest in music and instruments. My mother would often take me to the community center and let me play on the grand piano that sat in the lobby. It was decoration, however, no one ever complained when they saw a young me playing.

Once we got the news that we were moving to South Korea, my mother moved quickly to find my a teacher, which is how I met Miss Mina...it has been years now and we have come far. Here I am at the Championship of this huge competition. There are contestants from all over the world, of all ages and I am one of them.

Music has always been second nature for me. Since I can remember, I have always had music playing in my head. Whether I was doing school work, sleeping, or just sitting with my thoughts. I always had music playing in the background of my mind. Sometimes creating my own pieces in my head, waiting to write it down to play.

Is this why they were calling me a genius? I can’t be sure.

My parents were my number one fans, always doing their best to be at my performances and competitions. The championship was far from home, requiring quite a drive. Despite the snow falling outside, they promised to be at the championship. That’s why it’s odd to see their seats empty.

I dialed their numbers and waited as the phone rang and rang before going to voicemail.

“Hey dad, I’m going up next and I saw that you’re not here yet. It’s okay if you can’t make it. Miss Mina will record it! See you soon!”

That day was the last time I heard music in the background of my thoughts. After that day it’s like the lights cut off and the piano grew out of tune. The music that played in my head was sad, out of tune pieces that sounded of death and agony.

I never touched another piano. I had the grand piano bought for me and customized for me by my parents moved out of the house. I have no idea what happened to it and I don’t care. I won the championship, but what was the title and trophy worth at that point? The snow was too heavy, causing my parents to get into a car accident, leaving me alone in this world.

What is the point of music now? Stupid piano. Stupid competition. Stupid music teacher. Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

Mr. & Mrs. Kim didn’t let me be alone for long, opening their home to me without hesitation. I was no longer alone, surrounded by people who love and care about me.  The pain never fully goes away. I have my bad days, and I have my good days. The people around me always tell me that the music would come back. The lovely melodies what always circled my mind would return as things get better.

And have they? I don’t know because I’ve never tried to pursue music again.

I didn’t realize I was crying until I heard Mrs. Kim’s soft voice.

“Oh, Y/n.” She calls gently. I snap out of my trance, my gaze moving to meet her eyes. My tears blurred my vision so I couldn’t see her clearly, but the sad look in her eyes was apparent.

I force a smile on my eyes, quickly ducking my head to wipe my tears.

“Sorry.” I croak, “I just got lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh darling, don’t apologize.” She coos almost running towards me. She moves my laptop to the side and sits beside me. She hugs me my from the side while I lay my head on her shoulder sniffling.

“You haven’t had a moment like this in a while...is everything okay?” She asks after some heavy moments of silence.

“Yeah,” I say, “I was asked to help with the music for a musical.”

Mrs. Kim didn’t reply right away, she thinks for some time. She wants to approach this topic carefully.

“Okay...and how do you feel about that?”

I shrug, “I can’t do it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” When I don’t reply, Mrs. Kim sighs and continues to speak.

“Y/n, have you ever thought that the reason you still feel so...empty is because you never went back to music?”

“I don’t think that’s it…” I reply softly.

“Darling, I am worried about you. These days it’s like watching a lifeless being go about a routine. Work, eat, sleep and repeat. It’s concerning. Maybe getting that music back is what you need to do to complete your grieving.” She says honestly.

I can’t help but roll my eyes at her words. Mrs. Kim removes her hands from around me to put them up.

“I am just saying what I think,” She reminds me, “I think...I think this could be good. Don’t you?”

“No,” I answer plainly still sniffling.

Her shoulders fall in disappointment, “Well...I can’t force you, darling. I can only tell you what I think.”

“Thank you for the advice, Mrs. Kim.” I smile weakly, trying to prove myself in better condition.

“I’m always here Y/n, so If you ever need anything, tell me.” She places a hand on my head in an act of affection before standing up and walking out the living room.

I let myself fall back into the couch. This is how I am spending my day off? Sulking? Being sad for myself? If Mina had destroyed my work like I asked, this wouldn’t have happened.

I closed my eyes and eventually fall asleep.

Yoongi parks his car in the half-empty parking garage, before placing his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. He stares out at the parking garage contemplating his options. His fingers begin to drum his steering wheel as he works his nerves up.

“Yoongi.” The voice beside him snaps Yoongi out his train of thought. He groans and closes his eyes. The peace and silence he had only lasted for a moment.

He forgot that Taehyung sat beside him in his car. Taehyung unlike Yoongi, was ready to put the plan in action. Taehyung didn’t want to think about it too much or else he would second guess himself. He is the one who suggested such an idea, but they were becoming desperate.

It’s been 5 days since the incident at Mina’s music school. The sheet music has not been destroyed but has been moved to Yoongi’s office at the company building. It all remains in the cardboard box it was found in. He can’t throw it away, he can’t.

So here he is, sitting in the parking lot of the hospital Y/n works at.

After doing some research Yoongi was able to find videos of Y/n at competitions and performances. All he can say is...amazing. He couldn’t find any articles or information on her reason for stopping and he was curious about her.

Though she stormed in angry, her beauty didn’t go unnoticed. He had his mind wrapped around her and her music for the last few days. It didn’t take him very long to realize that the woman who walked into his blind date with scrubs on was Y/n.

He smiled to himself just thinking about how she strolled in with such a relaxed attitude. Scrubs, slip-resistant shoes, and a tired look on her face. She walked right in and apologized on behalf of Da-hee, clearly tired from a day of work.

Yet at that moment, he remembers thinking, what a beauty. A beautiful who creates such beautiful music. The creative block he has been in for the last few months is on the brink of a breakthrough but...he needs her to get past this. He just knows it.

That is why he agreed to Taehyung’s idiotic plan. Taehyung suggested just talking to her calmly while she is on break. Jimin told them that he usually takes his break the same time she does.

“Hyung, come on. Let’s just go, say our say and leave it.” Taehyung opens the car door and steps out before Yoongi can say anything. Yoongi turns off the engine following suit. He walks behind Taehyung, his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. He’s wearing the suit he entered the office with this morning.

They entered the hospital, and make their way to the floor Jimin told them Y/n is usually in. As they stand in the elevator Yoongi keeps his eyes on the floor.

“What do you think she’ll say?” Taehyung asks curiously.

Yoongi looks at his friend’s eager expression, “You want my honest opinion?”

Taehyung nods.

The doors of the elevator open and Yoongi pushes himself off the way he was leaning on.

“I think she’ll tell us to fuck off.” He states as he steps out the elevator. He didn’t see Taehyung’s downcast expression, but he was expecting just that. She seems very straight to the point. She won’t entertain something she won’t do. He can tell this just from their two interactions.

Yoongi walks up to the first desk he sees, Taehyung trailing behind him. He ignores the small gasp on the woman’s lips as her eyes twinkle at the two men’s appearance. The nurse smiles at Yoongi and bats her eyelashes.

“Hello sir, how may I help you?” She speaks softly. Yoongi’s eyes look around the hospital floor before answering.

“Is Y/n around?” Yoongi says looking at the nurse at the desk. Her brows furrow a bit.

“Y/n?” She repeats. She turns around to ask the other nurse where Y/n is but doesn’t get a chance.

“What about me?” Y/n calls out as she walks around the corner. Her feet halt when she lays eyes on Yoongi and Jimin.

“Ugh.” She groans and rolls her eyes, “Why are you two here?”

“Y/n, hi,” Yoongi says nervously. Taehyung seems to notice his friend’s slightly flustered state but decides not to speak just yet.

“We’re sorry to bother you...we just wanted to speak to you again, under calmer terms,” Yoongi explains.

Y/n looks at Taehyung who flashes her a small smile. She looks back at Yoongi, not hiding the way her eyes moved down to his feet and back up to him. The two men sit in that strained silence, ignoring the other doctors and nurses that buzzed around them.

Y/n huffs and turns around to head to the elevator. She doesn’t say a word as she steps in the elevator. She doesn’t say anything when the two men also stepping into the same elevator they just walked out of. The silver elevator doors begin to close and Y/n takes out her phone from the pocket of her scrub shirt.

Taehyung leans over to peak at her phone, “What are you doing?” Taehyung asked curiously.

Y/n keeps her eyes forward when she answers, “Getting ready to call the police once we step off this elevator.”

Yoongi almost laughs at her reply. She’s funny.

“Wait, Y/n! Let’s not be hasty! We’re not stalking you or anything, we just wanted to speak to you.” Taehyung explains.

“Yeah right. Let me guess, Dr. Park told you when I go on break? You’re lucky I don’t have my pepper spray on me.” She hisses at Taehyung. The elevator doors open to bring them to the first floor of the hospital.

“Where are you headed for lunch?” Yoongi asks, “I can give you a ride.”

“It’s just the sandwich shop across the street, there is no need.” Y/n denies his offer. Yoongi just nods, keeping up to walk beside her. Taehyung is walking on her other side, strolling like they’re two friends going for lunch. Y/n stays quiet all the way up to the door of the sandwich shop.

Taehyung opens the door for her and steps in not before uttering a little, “Thank you.”

She orders her food while the two men sit at a table near a window. She denied their offer to pay so while Y/n was ordering, they came up with a game plan.

“So we just tell her everything honestly. Tell her that we’ll pay her, she’ll be credited..or won’t if she doesn’t want to be. Just don’t ask her why she stopped playing.” Yoongi says to Taehyung. Taehyung nods, agreeing with the plan.

It’s not long before Y/n sits down with her sandwich but doesn’t make a move to eat. She leans back in her chair with an irked look on her face.

“Well, speak.”

“Oh-” Taehyung started, “So I want to start by saying, it was never our intention to use your music without asking. We found your music by mistake as well. Yoongi played it and it felt like my heart was soaring. The pieces were beautiful. So I am working on a musical, which if successful, could bring in a lot of money and help propel many careers.”

Y/n’s face didn’t change much. She sits and listens to Taehyung speaking.

“We don’t want to keep bothering Y/n, but we do want you to know that your music is beautiful. I want your music to be part of the musical. I actually want your music for the whole musical. Yoongi wants to work with you, and Jimin is eager to write lyrics. Our intentions are not ill, Y/n. We want to work with you and collaborate with you.” Taehyung wraps up his words.

Y/n looks over to Yoongi, “What do you have to say?”

“I agree with everything Taehyung said. I want to work with you to make this musical something great.”

“Mhh.” That is all that Y/n says.

“W-we are going to be at Mina’s Music school on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Please think about it Y/n?” Taehyung adds. Y/n doesn’t respond but lets the men know she is done with the conversation when she leans forward and grabs her sandwich to eat.

“Thank you so much for at least hearing us out,” Yoongi says as the men stand out of their chairs. Y/n nods, the irritated look on her face not changing at all.

Y/n sat in her car staring at the music school. The lights were on, but the parking lot was almost empty. There were one or two cars parked on the further end of the parking lot. She sits there staring at the building. She drove herself here, but she’s not sure why. She doesn’t think it was the words of the two men from 3 days ago.

Maybe it’s Mrs. Kim’s words from almost a week ago that brought her, but she knows that it couldn’t have been her own mind that brought her here. The three men, Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung weren’t present yet. She knew that because she doesn’t see Dr. Park’s fancy white Hyundai.

Her heart is beating against her rib cage and her nerves have her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Her shaky hands sat in her lap, while the cold of the outdoors began to leak into her car, seeing as she turned the engine off.

She opens the door and takes a step out. She closes the car door and slowly makes her way to the school. Deciding to come on her day off was the right choice. If she made her way here after work, she would convince her tired self to turn around.

Just like before, she strolls down the hallway passing many classrooms with grand pianos. She doesn’t make it to the room she stormed into last time because something stops her in her tracks. A cracked down that showed a preview of a room that doesn’t look used.

She stops walking, pushing the door wider to find something that was covered with a big grey sheet. The sun was setting and the few rays that shined through the opened window exposed the dust floating in the room. Also scared to step into the room, Y/n looks around the room.

Unlike the other practice rooms, there were no posters, no stands or even sheet music left behind. She steps closer into the room, realizing that it was a piano covered in a big grey sheet. She stops walking again, leaving her in the space between the door and the covered piano.

Y/n had thoughts of turning around, not knowing what led her to this room when a voice spoke causing her jump.

“Of course this is where you find yourself.”

Y/n spins around to find Mina leaning against the door frame. She has a small smile on her face, her bob pulled into a ponytail while her bangs rest on her forehead.

“I-I was just leaving.” Y/n defends ready to leave.

As if she didn’t hear Y/n, Mina continues to speak, “It’s almost like your soul knew where it was and led you here.”

Y/n’s brows furrow at her words, a bit confused by what she meant. She wordlessly walks into the room. Y/n steps out of her way, watching as she bends down, grabbing the bottom of the grey sheet.

She walks to the opposite side of the room, slowly uncovering the piano. Dust was flying in the air caused Y/n to cough a bit. Y/n was ready to complain when her eyes landed on the black 2000 Yamaha C-1 grand piano.

Her eyes widen and her body freezes. Mina watches as Y/n approached the familiar piano on shaky legs. At that moment Mina felt like she was looking at the 16-year old Y/n.

Y/n blinked back tears as she stood in front of the piano. Her piano...the piano her parents worked hard to buy her. So this is where it’s been. She reached out a shaky hand and slowly placed it on the fallboard. She slowly pulls up the fallboard revealing the white and black keys. She sits on the bench trying to collect her swarming thoughts.

Y/n slowly lets her fingers graze the keys, not pressing down to emit any noise. She looks up from the keys at the wooden music rack. Her eyes settle on the words professionally printed on the music rack.

To our lovely daughter, Y/n.

Y/n has her fingers touch the golden text, inhaling deeply as the huge weight that has been sitting on her chest all these years seems to disappear.

When she exhales it comes out as a choked sob, tears streaming down her face. Sobs begin to leave her lips, sounding throughout the room. She brings her hands to her chest and hunches over the piano letting the tears run down her cheeks and off the tip of her nose, dripping onto the keys.

Her whole body shook as she cried.

Mina who also has tears running down her cheeks slowly back out the room and begins closing the door just in time for the 3 men walking down the hallway to catch a glimpse of Y/n.

Mina closes the door, meeting the 3 pairs of curious eyes. Mina’s own face flushed with red eyes yet beaming with a big smile.

“Don’t worry about her,” She almost whispers, “She’ll be fine. Just leave her be.” With those words, she walks back down the hallway to her office.

Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung all stand out the door for a moment, the sound of sobs leaking through the dense wooden door. They don’t stand out there for long, heading towards their regular meet up room with Yoongi’s piano.

Y/n can’t be sure how long she sat there emptying out all these feelings. She can’t be sure where she has been keeping all this...hurt for so long but it felt like a purge of baggage.

Once her crying stopped, she leaned her head on the fallboard of the grand piano. Her eyes were closed as she worked on catching her breath. She was so exhausted, she debated falling asleep on the floor. She stayed in that position, now sitting in the dark because the sun had set and the lights weren’t turned on in the room.

As she sat there listening to her own breathing a beautiful melody began to fill her...ears? Y/n’s eyes snapped open. No, this music was not being played away and she definitely hadn’t heard this anywhere before.

She slowly sat up, staring at the dimly lit white keys of her piano. The moon gave enough light for her to barely make them out.

The music...the continuous melodies in her head.

It’s back.

[littlereyofsunlight]

When the Holiday Spirit’s True

My Steggy Secret Santa gift for @lavellenchanted for the @steggyfanevents exchange. Happy happy and merry merry—I hope you enjoy the story AND have a wonderful 2019!

**

And these are the gifts we keep And this is the morning that we breathe And then we see These moments are the only gifts we need — In the Morning, Jack Johnson

**

“A penguin costume?” Peggy frowned down at the note Lillian handed her. “Whatever for?”

“Christmas pageant, Mummy!” Lillian replied, turning back to her after school snack.

“I’m quite certain there were no penguins present for the birth of Jesus, darling.” Peggy chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, thinking. “Still, your father should be able to sort you out something suitable.”

Later that evening, as Peggy worked through her backlog of emails from the Thanksgiving break, she overheard their precocious daughter in conversation with Steve.

“I’m gonna be a penguin, Dad.”

“Is that so?” Steve’s reply seemed a little distant. There was a splash and a gurgle in the background. Bathtime for Hal, then. “Why do you want to be a penguin?”

A beat. Peggy could imagine the look on Lily’s face as she thought through her response; their daughter was a little copy of Steve. “Well actually, the roles were assigned by Ms. Beckman and Mr. Lewis.” Another pause. “And penguin is better than a reindeer’s bottom.”

Splash. “Oh, sorry, buddy.” Steve apologized as the baby gave a shocked cry at the water Steve had no doubt surprised him with. “Lily, could you start again? Why did your teachers assign you the role of penguin?”

Lily’s long-suffering sigh was a scarily accurate copy of Peggy’s. “For the Christmas pageant, Daddy,” she explained, patience wearing thin, judging by her tone of voice.

“Christmas pageant?” Steve repeated, his own voice sharpening in that way Peggy knew foretold an oncoming rant.

“Yes, Dad, the Christmas pageant. There are reindeer and penguins and elves and we sing Silent Night and Jingle Bells and Come Y’All Faith-fool—”

“Come All Ye Faithful?”

“—and at the end Mr. Lewis comes out dressed like Santa.”

“Do you sing any other songs?”

“The big kids are singing.”

“What are they singing?”

“I don’t know, big kids songs.”

“Are they all about Christmas?”

“Yep.”

“Nothing about other holidays? Maybe Hanukkah?”

“What’s that?”

Steve, it turned out, was getting pretty good at that patented sigh as well. Peggy tuned him out as he explained the holiday to Lillian while finishing Hal’s bath. These emails weren’t going to reply to themselves, and she would need to nurse Hal soon.

Much later, after Lillian’s bedtime routine and another round of quieting fussy baby Hal back to sleep, Peggy’s eyelids were closed before she’d even crawled fully under the covers.

Steve cleared his throat as he tossed his balled-up socks into the hamper.

“If you put them through the wash and dryer that way, you’ll end up with damp sock balls in the fresh laundry.” She still hadn’t opened her eyes.

Peggy heard Steve move over to the hamper and pick out his socks. “Did you know about this?”

“I’ve been dealing with your socks for seven years, yes.”

That sigh again, as he sat heavily on his side of the bed. The mattress dipped and heaved, signs that Steve was arranging a mountain of pillows to sit up against. They were going to have a chat before she could sleep, it seemed. “Did you know about the Christmas pageant at Lily’s school?”

Peggy rolled over and looked at him, his handsome face so grave despite the subject matter. “She handed me a note about needing a penguin costume this afternoon.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

She blinked. What there was to not be okay with, she wasn’t sure.

He went on. “I know for a fact that several of Lily’s classmates practice faiths that don’t celebrate Christmas. This sounds exclusionary. All the songs they’re singing are Christmas songs. Some of them are hymns!”

“I’m not following, darling. Christmas seems like the dominant holiday this time of year.” Steve had been off on a mission just before Halloween, and by the time Peggy had realized she needed to get Lily a costume, half the stores had already switched to Christmas gear. Lilian had stoutly refused to go as one of Santa’s elves, resulting in a rather madcap dash across several neighborhood Duane Reades in search of the desired princess dress. Initially she’d wanted to go as Black Widow, but Peggy drew a line at catsuits on six year-olds.

“We send our child to a public school.”

“...I’m aware.” If he kept her up much later, Peggy would need to dig up some of those luxe under-eye masks Pepper had gifted her just to feel presentable in the morning.

Steve’s voice reached new levels of incredulous. “Separation of church and state?!”

Oh. “How very American,” she replied, a bit frosty.

*

But Steve was like a dog with a bone. Now that he had an inkling of how Christmas had taken over the entire month of December, he kept uncovering new traditions to be upset over.

One night he bolted up from his laptop, eyes wide. “This is madness!”

Peggy was nursing Hal (Peggy was always nursing Hal.) “Hmm?” She glanced up from the tablet perched precariously on her knee so she could skim a mission report.

“Did Lily tell you about the Elf on a Shelf?” Steve was using his Captain America voice already, and whenever he put that voice on at home, Peggy almost wished for another ten repeats of Baby Shark with their daughter belting along off-key.

“No, darling,” she said, deftly juggling baby and technology so Hal was at her other breast. “Is it a new television program?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought we agreed we’d limit her screen time.”

“So we did. What’s this Elf business, then?” Peggy tried to smile but then the baby made use of the tooth that had broken through just the other day.

Steve ignored her gasp of pain, building up a head of steam. “It seems most of her classmates wake up each morning to find this doll in a different spot, getting into some kind of trouble, as a reminder from Santa to be good.”

Peggy frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.” Hal was dozing off, so she motioned for Steve to swap with her. Her heart swelled briefly as she watched him cradle their son in his big hands. His spoiling-for-a-fight face softened as he looked down into Hal’s milk-drunk eyes, a shade lighter than Peggy’s, cinnamon rather than chocolate.

She took the proffered laptop and scanned the site Steve had been reading. “These are so elaborate!” She looked back at Steve. “Who has time to do all this?”

Steve tore his gaze from Hal’s face. “Peggy, this is just priming children to accept living in a surveillance state!”

Peggy shook her head, scrolling through the list of ideas, with photos illustrating the scenarios. “Those are teeny-tiny flapjacks. I can barely feed myself and our children, now I’ll have to feed an elf?”

An angry gurgle made Hal sound as though he was agreeing with one or both of his parents. But then he spit up all down Steve’s shirt, so the conversation was shelved.

*

On a video conference call at headquarters one afternoon, Peggy’s assistant interrupted her with something akin to semaphore or interpretive dance from the doorway of her office.

“Pardon me, Secretary General Guterres, it seems I’m needed urgently. I trust we can continue this conversation before the next assembly?” Peggy smiled and thanked the former prime minister before signing off.

Quinn stood there, wringing their hands. “Ms. Carter, I’m sorry to intrude—”

Peggy could feel her blood pressure rising. “And yet you have, so it better be life and death.” She heard their gulp from across the room.

“Well, ma’am, it’s your husband.”

She shot out of her chair. “Steve’s not on assignment, he took the month off.” She jabbed blindly at her phone, pressing the receiver to her ear with a shaky hand.

“No, ma’am, he’s not…” Quinn’s response faded from her hearing as the call connected and Peggy heard Steve’s cell ringing.

Peggy’s annoyance overtook her relief like a lion bringing down a sick gazelle. “If he took on something at the last minute without bloody clearing it with me, I swear to Christ—” There were any number of situations the organization had been monitoring over the last few weeks that could have blown up spectacularly, or certainly would, if Captain America chose to insert himself.

“Peggy?” Steve’s greeting sounded especially guilty, which only enraged her further.

“What have you done, you great impulsive pratt, what ridiculous endeavor has your god-complex led you to now?”

There was a moment of strained silence on the other end of the line, but Peggy didn’t hear gunfire or explosions or Clint Barton’s voice in the background, so that was slightly reassuring. Still, the utter gall of Steve to go running headlong into danger, with no thought to his wife or children at home.

Eventually, Steve found his voice. “God-complex?”

“Um, Director Carter?” Quinn had crept into the room and stood at her elbow, whispering.

“Out with it,” Peggy snapped, unclear whether she was speaking to her husband or her employee.

Quinn shrank back but managed to squeak out an answer. “Your daughter’s teachers wanted to speak with you about the emails Mr. Rogers keeps sending them about the holiday pageant.”

Peggy felt her eyes roll back into her head of their own accord. The Carter-Rogers family’s trademark sigh exploded from her lungs. “Steve.”

“Yes, love of my life?” She could picture the too-innocent look on his face just from his tone of voice.

Peggy counted to three, for all the good it did. “Have you left the tri-state area?”

“I am at our home in Brooklyn, with our children.” A faint “hello, Mummy!” sounded down the line. “Lily says hello.”

“Love and kisses,” she replied automatically.

“Did someone tell you I was somewhere else?”

Peggy raised an eyebrow at Quinn, who still stood there, pale-faced and sweating. “Not exactly. Now, what’s this about you emailing Lillian’s teachers?”

Another wary pause. “How much do you know?”

“I know we’ll need to come up with an extravagant offering, if they’re calling me to get you to back off.” Peggy leaned back in her chair and adjusted the waistband cutting into her stomach. “Honestly, Steve, you can’t dictate every aspect of our child’s education.”

Steve sniffed. “But I got them to add a Hanukkah song.”

“Well then, let’s say that’s the end of it, shall we? Give those poor young people a rest. Between you and Lillian, how are they to have any energy to deal with the rest of the class?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, contrite. “I’ll drop it. For this year.”

That would have to do. “Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, Quinn and I need to review when it’s appropriate to interrupt calls with high-ranking members of international governing bodies.”

“Well, have a good afternoon. The kids and I can’t wait to have you home. Love you.”

“Likewise, darling,” Peggy replied. Then she hung up and turned the full force of her disappointed face on her assistant.

*

“Did you know that Immaculate Heart around the corner celebrates midnight Mass at ten pm?” Steve asked Peggy one afternoon as they folded the laundry side by side.

“I certainly did not,” she replied, focused on pairing Hal’s tiny socks. He’d soon grow out of them, and no part of him would ever be as small as he was now. Her baby was already so much bigger than when he’d been born. Soon enough, Hal wouldn’t be her baby any more. She closed her eyes against a sudden rush of tears.

Steve shook out a fitted sheet and handed two corners to Peggy without looking at her. They both stepped back and quickly tucked their corners, paired sides and folded in half, then quarters, then eighths. Steve smoothed out the wrinkles on the top fold, shaking his head. “I knew everything was going to be different from the moment I first came back.”

He put the sheet onto the linens pile. “But the thing of it is, the differences never stop. Every time I think I’ve gotten the hang of living now, something comes up to put me right back at square one.” He took up one of Lily’s tees, running his fingers over the puffy letters on the front that proclaimed her a “future engineer/princess” whenever she wore it. “I know we don’t go to church.” He folded the shirt, turning it into a tiny square of glittery fabric in his hands. “But going to Mass with Ma was one of our few Christmas traditions.”

Peggy stopped folding to look at Steve. “Darling,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “We can go, of course we can go.”

His eyes were shining when he looked up at her, the corner of his mouth quirked up in what might have been a smile. “Nah.” He scratched his nose. “If I can’t put Lily through three hours of mind-numbingly unintelligible Latin, what’s the point? And if Hal’s there, we run the risk of a dirty diaper smell combining with the incense into some kind of chemical weapon.”

Peggy laughed with him, but noted the way the corners of his eyes stayed tight. “Well, I could go with you, anyhow. It’s been a few years, but I bet I can still follow along all right.”

That earned her a real smile, at least.

*

Peggy contemplated, not for the first time, whether Natasha might be giving their daughter spy lessons. The cache of presents in the crawl space above the master closet seemed untouched, but as Lily had found every other hiding spot, Peggy wasn’t so sure that the little girl had just gotten better as covering her tracks. Her back twinged as she reached in to pull them down and she groaned.

“Peg? Everything okay?” Steve asked from the doorway, just back from his run.

She stepped gingerly down the ladder. “Could you please fetch the gifts at the back up there?” Peggy pressed her hands into the small of her back and stretched, feeling some of the tension release as she did. “Perhaps I’ll need to ask Santa for a massage,” she murmured to herself.

Steve handed down the packages to her while she admired the view of his back muscles in the too-tight workout gear he favored. As he came down with Lily’s final present in his hands, he puzzled over the tag. “From Santa?”

“Jolly old fellow, spreads Christmas cheer to good little girls and boys?” Peggy sorted through the other presents, checking the tape at the seams for signs of tampering.

He turned the box over in his hands. “Santa did stockings, at most, back in my day.”

Squinting at a tiny rip in the paper, Peggy didn’t catch the note in his voice. “Perhaps he has better funding these days, dear.” No, not a tear, a cut made by the associate at the store who’d wrapped the thing.

“Hold on, Peggy, is this the big castle she’s been begging us for?”

“That’s what we agreed on for her big gift, yes.”

“But you labelled it from Santa?”

Peggy concluded her inventory, satisfied that either Lily hadn’t sussed out this hiding spot, or that she was, in fact, exceptionally good at six year-old espionage. Either way, she could be proud. “I’m not following the thread, here, Steve. What is the problem?”

Steve’s eyebrows were drawn together on his forehead, his hands on his slim hips. “Peggy, we really shouldn’t be teaching our daughter that the most expensive gifts come from some man she doesn’t know. The big gift should be from us.”

She sat on the bed, suddenly very tired. “Well then you can write a new tag for the present, I don’t care.”

“I just want us to be mindful about the messages we’re sending.”

“Yes, and while you’re being mindful, and harassing the teachers, and raging against the commercialization of the season, I’m just trying to get through a bloody holiday without an international incident sidelining our plans!” Finally, it was Peggy’s turn to let loose. “You do so much for our family, Steve, but there’s even more you don’t know needs to be done! The teachers’ gifts and the scheduling and the gift wrapping that has to happen before the presents even come home, because our daughter is a super spy, plus trying to keep the mood festive even though you’ve been shitting over every aspect of the holiday this year.” 

She threw up her hands, too angry to even look at him. “Oh, not to mention the fact that I’m pregnant, Steve. Again. Hal isn’t even a year old, so well done, us. I’m tired all the time and hormonal and weepy and at this point, on Christmas Eve, I don’t even feel like celebrating. I hope you’re happy.” She marched into the ensuite bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She went to run a bath, but remembered she wasn’t supposed to soak in hot water, so she turned on the shower instead and sat down, breathing hard, as steam started to fill the room.

Steve knocked on the door. “Peggy?”

She didn’t respond, only picked up a brush and began running it through her hair.

“Peggy, I deserved that.” No Captain America voice now, just Steve, abashed and remorseful. “I’m sorry. I’m going to give you some time to cool down, but then I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Peggy bit her lip, her resolve softening already.

“And Peggy?” She pictured him leaning against the jamb, the way he did many nights while she went through her toilette. “That’s great news about the baby. The best damn present you could have given me.”

Crying now, Peggy opened the door. “You have been an absolute shit, Rogers.”

He took her in his arms. “I have,” he agreed. She twined her arms around his neck. “I’ve been a real Grinch.” He held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder, tears dripping on his shirt.

“I’m not sentimental over these sorts of things,“ she sniffed. “And I’ve come through hundred of high pressure situations before, I don’t know why this one got to me.”

Steve pulled back to meet her eyes. “Maybe because I’m supposed to be supporting you, not adding to your stress?”

“You usually do support me!” Peggy protested, the tears passing as quickly as they had come on. “And I can see how hard this Christmas has been for you.”

He nodded. “That’s no excuse for my behavior, though. I should have dealt with it better.”

She sniffled again. “Well, do better now.”

Steve squeezed her tight. “You got it. How about you hop in that shower and I’ll deal with the presents, okay?”

Peggy looked up at him from under her lashes. “You can deal with the presents, but I think you need a shower, too.” She plucked at his sweaty tee. “You can scrub my back as your first act of penance.”

Steve laughed and let her lead him into the bathroom.

*

On Christmas morning, Peggy woke with a start. Steve’s side of the bed was cold, and it was past ten, judging by the stark winter sunlight streaming into the room. The scent of bacon wafted under her nose before she was fully awake. As she lay in bed wondering if she could realistically sneak in a few more minutes of rest, Lily galloped into the room.

“Mummy!” She zoomed around the bed. “Dad wouldn’t let me come in until breakfast was ready but it’s ready now and then we have to open presents and so it’s time to get up, get up, get up!”

Peggy laughed and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Thank you for letting me sleep in, dearest.”

“Daddy said you two were up late watching for Santa.”

As if on cue, Steve appeared in the doorway, Hal strapped to his chest and a tray in his hands. Peggy raised an eyebrow at him. “Daddy said we were up late, did he?”

Steve blushed. “I was trying to explain why you were so tired.”

“Well, Lily, your Dad and I were just so caught up in the holiday spirit, we didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

Lillian clambered up into bed beside Peggy. “I tried to stay up, too, but I was too knackered.”

“Well, we still weren’t up late enough to help Santa with his packages.” Peggy cuddled her close. “Did he leave you anything?”

“Yes, there are presents under the tree I haven’t seen!”

Steve raised both eyebrows. “I guess I’ll have to give Nat a call later.” Peggy shrugged. “I made you an apology breakfast.” He gestured with the tray.

“I can smell it from here!” Peggy said approvingly. “A lie-in, plus bacon. You are well on your way to being back on my nice list, Steve.” He grinned at that.

“Can we eat it in bed?” Lily asked.

“I suppose it is a special occasion,” Peggy replied. “Come sit with us, darling.” She motioned for Steve to join them. He handed off the tray and unwrapped Hal from his carrier, settling him in his lap.

“Tea, bacon, sausage, eggs, tomatoes and the last of that banana bread Sharon sent over,” Steve said, indicating the plates practically overflowing from the tray. “Merry Christmas, Peggy.”

Peggy looked up into Steve’s clear blue eyes to see the love shining there. “Thank you, Steve. Merry Christmas.”

[olicitysecretsanta]

Broken Bones Lead Me To You

For @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl,

Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy this fluffy little meet cute :) - Jesse @spaztronautwriter

###

Sick people made a lot of noise.

As someone who’d never spent much time around the sick or injured, Oliver had never had occasion to notice it before, but sitting on an uncomfortable blue plastic chair in the Starling Memorial emergency room, all he could hear were the moanings and groanings off all the people around him.

A man in what was once probably a white hoodie, but was now covered in stains Oliver would rather not identify, stood at the check in desk, shouting at the nurse for asking him to fill out a form. An old lady in a wheelchair was breathing so heavily that, if they weren’t already in a hospital, he’d probably consider calling 9-1-1. A kid less than five feet away was puking into a bucket, rather violently. A low chorus of coughing and complaints surrounded him on all sides, drowning out the low hum of Christmas music coming over the speakers, and it was only contributing to his headache.

Sliding doors opened on the far side of the room as a man and a woman entered from outside, a brisk wind sweeping in behind them. Oliver tugged his peacoat tighter around his shoulders and wondered when this hellish experience would end.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Queen. Nurse says it’ll be another few minutes,” his bodyguard said as he folded himself into the chair beside him, an apologetic smile crossing his face.

In all the years John Diggle had worked security for the Queen’s, Oliver had never seen him look like that. He supposed that might be because this was the first time the man’s toddler had ever broken one of his client’s noses before. If he didn’t think he might pass out from the pain, Oliver would have been tempted to laugh at the situation.

It all started with a text message. A message that wasn’t even for him, in fact.

John had been hanging out in Oliver’s office at Queen Consolidated when his phone dinged. It had been a slow day due to a mixture of snow and it being so close to Christmas, so Oliver hadn’t been doing much more than deleting old emails for the past hour. When he looked up to catch John smiling adoringly at his phone he was immediately curious. John was married, but he was and his wife, Lyla, were far from the mushy type, so that only left one option. The text must be about their daughter, Sara. And if that were the case, then Oliver could honestly say that he didn’t blame the man.

Sara Diggle was the cutest baby Oliver had ever seen. Which was why Oliver had stopped fiddling around with his email and got up to see what cute thing John’s daughter was up to today. John had glanced up as Oliver approached, smirking and turning his phone to face him. The screen was filled with a video of Sara shuffling her feet through the light snow that had fallen that morning.

“Lyla took her to the park on Third. She was too little for snow last year.” He turned the phone back so he could watch his daughter play in the snow for the first time, a dopey grin spreading across his face.

If it hadn’t been a week before Christmas, if the office hadn’t been so slow, maybe Oliver wouldn’t have suggested what he suggested. Maybe he would have smiled at his friend and gone back to work. But it was and Oliver, willing to do anything to escape the endless boredom, made the suggestion that had ended him up in the emergency room less than an hour later.

“Not much going on here today. Why don’t we take a walk down and meet them?”

“Your kid kicks me in the face and you start calling me Mr. Queen?” Oliver joked, or tried to. He sounded so nasally he could barely recognize his own voice. “What title do I get if you accidentally shoot me?”

John shot him an unimpressed look out of the corner of his eye, but his shoulders loosened up a bit. “Oliver, man, I’m sorry.”

“I think you’ve mentioned that once or twice.”

He had actually mentioned it more like twenty-three times according to Oliver’s count, but he was pretty sure he’d blacked out for a minute there so it could’ve likely been more.

It wasn’t like it was John’s fault anyway. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Oliver had simply offered to help Sara climb up the slide. Even though Lyla had told her no because, you know, the stairs were covered in ice and snow and she’d slip. But if Oliver was helping then she couldn’t possibly slip, right?

Oh, how little respect he’d had for Lyla’s maternal instincts.

Halfway up the ladder, as soon as she was level with Oliver’s face, her foot slipped off the slick metal step, jolting back to hit him square in the nose. Despite the pain, and probable blackout, Oliver managed to hold onto Sara long enough for her to pull herself the rest of the way up the ladder. As splashes of red blood stained the snow at his feet, all Oliver could hear were Sara’s happy giggles as she flew down the slide into a pile of snow at the bottom.

John shook his head. “Your mother is going to kill me. Or worse, fire me.”

“She’s not going to fire you.”

His mother, despite her overprotective streak, would never fire John over an accident. In fact, after a few days, she might even find the incident amusing. This news didn’t seem to appease John much. His leg jumped restlessly, his fingers tapping against his knee as the minutes passed.

“I’m gonna see if I can get you some ice,” he said, jumping up from his chair.

Oliver smiled as best he could, wanting to at least try to lessen the man’s guilt. Even if just a little. He was pretty sure the wince that followed did the opposite.

Crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, Oliver tried to block out the endless noise of the emergency room. He didn’t open them again until he felt someone take the seat beside him. A glance to his left told him that it was definitely not John returning with his ice pack.

A young blonde woman in an ugly Hanukkah sweater—Oliver didn’t even know they made those—sat down beside him, setting her purse on her lap. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a neat ponytail, and she looked intensely focused as she stared down at a clipboard.

Oliver watched her for a moment as she skimmed the questions on the form. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with her at first. She wasn’t groaning or wheezing or throwing up and she didn’t look to be in any obvious pain. At least, until she tried to pick up the pen attached to the clipboard. Her face crumpled as she tried to wrap her hand around the pen and that’s when he noticed her right thumb. It was swollen and an ugly shade of purple. It didn’t take a medical degree to realize it was broken. She winced, switching the pen to her left hand as if she’d gone to pick it up with her right on instinct.

He tried not to stare, but it was difficult not to notice what a hard time she was having. Her handwriting looked like little more than chicken scratch, despite how many times she readjusted her pen.

“Excuse me,” he said after a minute of watching her struggle, and she turned to him with wide blue eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was out of surprise or because of the dried blood undoubtedly all over his face. “Do you need some help?”

“Oh!” The woman glanced down at the form before her eyes darted back to Oliver. “No. No, it’s alright. Thank you, though.”

Oliver braved a smile for her, and tried to keep his eyes to himself, but after a few more minutes of her struggling to fill out her address, he decided to try again. “Are you sure you don’t need help? Because” —he flexed both hands in front of him— “it’s just my nose that’s broken.”

She took one last look at her barely filled out form before sighing in defeat. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”

He grabbed the clipboard and pen, turning to face her. “What’s your phone number?”

“What?” She glanced over at him, startled, before blinking. “Oh! Right.” She laughed a little nervously, but quickly rattled off her number.

“And you’re here because of a broken thumb, right?” She nodded and he filled out the information.

“What happened?”

She blinked then glanced down at the form. “It asks that?”

“No,” he said, his lips turning up at the corners. “No, I was just asking because it looks pretty bad. It wants your insurance information.”

“It was a video gaming accident,” she said, digging through her bag in search of her insurance card. “Mario Kart.”

If his face wasn’t pounding he was pretty sure he would have been grinning at her. “How do you break your thumb playing Mario Kart?”

“You don’t.” She pushed her glasses up her nose using her good hand. “You break it punching the arm of the couch when you lose at Mario Kart.”

He couldn’t help himself. He snorted and immediately regretted it. “Ugh,” he groaned, closing his eyes against the pain.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” she said, but he waved her off, taking the insurance card from her and copying down her information. “So… Broken nose, right? How’d you manage that? Get into a fist fight or something?”

“Or something,” he said, handing her card back to her. “Actually, I got kicked in the face. Any allergies?”

“You got kicked in the face?” she asked, eyes wide and completely ignoring his question. “Are you an MMA fighter or something? Because you look like you could definitely be an MMA fighter.”

His lips quirked and he nearly snorted again at the way her eyes raked up and down his body. This girl was a hazard to his health.

“No. Believe it or not, my story might be even more embarrassing than yours.”

“My story is not embarrassing,” she argued, adjusting her purse in her lap. “The other guy totally cheated. I was well within my rights to be angry.”

“Angry enough to break your own thumb,” he teased.

“Shut up.” Her face scrunched up adorably and she waved her good hand in his direction. “You still didn’t tell me how you managed to get kicked in the face.”

“And you didn’t tell me if you have any allergies.”

“Peanuts,” she said with a huff, then pointedly narrowed her gaze until Oliver relented.

“I was helping my friend’s toddler up a slide and her foot slipped on some snow.” He gestured to his face, showcasing the damage such a simple little accident could cause. He knew his skin was sticky with blood, but he was pretty sure it had also started to bruise as he waited to be seen by a doctor. He wondered how bad it looked.

She laughed, her head tilting back just slightly, and Oliver had a fleeting thought about how gorgeous she was. He’d noticed she was pretty as soon as she’d sat down, but there was something about her smile. Something so carefree about her laugh, despite the pain she must currently be in. She seemed to radiate friendliness and warmth. She was beautiful.

“I’m Oliver, by the way.”

She looked over at him, that smile still one her face. “Felicity.”

He’d already known that since it was one of the few things she’d managed to scrawl on her paperwork.

Felicity Smoak.

She reached out with her left hand and he met her halfway, giving it an awkward shake. His skin buzzed where she touched him. Her gaze traveled to their hands, almost as if she felt it too, and then back to his face where it stayed until something behind Oliver caught her attention.

“Here, this should help with the swelling,“ John said, and Oliver reluctantly pulled his gaze away as his friend stopped beside him, holding out an ice pack.

“Thanks, man.” Grabbing the ice pack, he looked over to see Felicity glancing curiously at the newcomer, and gestured to his friend. “Felicity, this is John Diggle. Father of the nose breaker.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” John replied, his smile genuine, if reserved. He’d been through this song and dance with Oliver plenty of times in the past. Oliver didn’t blame the guy for thinking Felicity was just another girl out to snag Oliver Queen. He didn’t get that vibe from her, though. In fact, he was pretty sure Felicity had no idea who he was.

Truth was, as much as Oliver had enjoyed the modicum of celebrity his family’s wealth brought him, or the endless array of women and one night stands that came with it, he’d long since grown tired of it. But it had been difficult finding women in his social circle that didn’t remember the spoiled womanizer he’d been in his youth. Even strangers knew the sordid details of his past thanks to the paparazzi and tabloids. Still, if ever there was a woman he wanted to take a chance with, he thought it might be Felicity Smoak.

He opened his mouth to ask for her number, not for the paperwork this time, when a nurse called out, “Mr. Queen?”

He looked over at the nurse glancing in his general direction and raised a hand.

“Right this way,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her.

Oliver hesitated a moment, wondering if he should ask Felicity for her number now, or if that might scare her away. They’d only been talking for a few minutes and what he was feeling might be one-sided. Still… If he didn’t take the chance now he might never see her again.

“Mr. Queen?” the nurse called again, her tone impatient, though she tried to hide it behind a polite smile.

Turning back quickly, he gently reached for Felicity’s hand. She startled for a moment, until he took the ice pack John had given him and placed it on top of her busted thumb. Her good hand immediately shot out, covering his, and a spark of electricity shot up his arm, setting his skin buzzing once again.

“Keep this on there, okay?”

She nodded, eyes on their hands. When he pulled away to stand she glanced up at him, cheeks tinted pink and a small smile on her lips. “Thanks.”

He wished he could return the smile the way he wanted to.

“He’ll keep you company while I’m gone,” Oliver said, nodding to John who was already sliding into his now abandoned seat.

John shot her a wink, causing her to grin.

“Mr. Queen.” This time the nurse didn’t hide her impatience and Oliver reluctantly turned to follow her into the emergency room.

###

The wait in the ER turned out to take longer than the actual visit with the doctor. It only took about twenty minutes to straighten out his nose and pack it with gauze. Soon enough he was making his way back out to the waiting room in search of John.

He wasn’t necessarily hoping Felicity would still be there, but… Yeah, who was he kidding? He was totally hoping she was still there. So when he saw her, sitting in the same plastic chair he’d left her in, he made a beeline right for her.

“Still here?”

Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice and a smile stretched across her face when she saw him.“Yeah. Probably won’t be much longer.”

The ice pack he’d given her was still draped across her busted thumb, and it made Oliver smile. Not that he could manage much of one. The anesthetic spray the doctor used had dulled some of the pain, but the packing made it hard to move his face at all. Something Felicity took notice of almost immediately.

Her smile quirked up on one side, turning amused, as she looked up at him. “Boy, I’m glad I only broke my hand.”

With a tilt of his head, Oliver silently told her what he thought of her jokes before glancing around. “Where’s John? Were you mean to him, too?”

She laughed. “He went to make a phone call. I think he’s right out front.”

Oliver nodded, biting his lip. He knew he should go now. This was the natural end of their acquaintance, and he should say goodbye and go find John. This… lingering he was doing probably wasn’t doing him any favors with her.

“I hope your hand feels better,” he said, after a moment.

“I hope your nose feels better. I mean, you know, heals quickly. Wouldn’t want the paparazzi plastering pictures of you with a bandaged nose all over the tabloids.”

His head snapped back in surprise. “You know who I am?”

“Well, there aren’t many Queen’s in Starling City and you are kind of famous. If your face wasn’t all messed up I probably would have recognized you immediately.” She slammed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Not that your face is messed up. You’re still very attractive. Like, really, really attractive. I just didn’t recognize you because of all the bruising and swelling and blood and I’m going to stop talking in three… two…”

“Felicity.” Oliver smiled at her, the uncomfortable stuffed feeling in his nose be damned. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Her blue eyes widened in surprise for a moment before she covered it up with that same amused smile from before. “I bet you ask out all the girls you end up in the ER with.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his tone as serious as he could get it while still sounding like a manly Fran Drescher. “Just the ones that get so mad over losing at a video game that they break their own thumbs.”

The grin she shot him and the way it made his stomach flip made him certain of his decision.

“Okay,” she said, her ponytail bobbling slightly with her nod. She bit her lip, and he got the impression that she was as willing to take a chance on him as he was on her.

He nodded back. “Okay.”

“But…” She appraised him, tilting her head thoughtfully to the side. “Maybe we should wait until your nose is healed a little.”

Oliver‘s brows furrowed, and he wondered if he looked even worse than he thought he did. Was she embarrassed to be seen in public with him?

“It’s just…” She raised her broken hand. “With my busted hand and your busted nose, people might think I punched you.”

He laughed, and this time the pain killers didn’t help as much as he would have liked, but it was worth it. “Let them think what they want. I’ve had kind of a sucky day and dinner with you might just turn it around.”

She smiled again, opening her mouth to reply when a nurse called her name. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, but Oliver moved over to take a seat in his previously vacated chair.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

For a moment she looked like he’d knocked the wind out of her with the suggestion, but then she reached out and squeezed his hand with her good one. Then she followed the nurse off, turning back once to meet his gaze, before walking through the doors and out of sight.

Oliver leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes against the dull throbbing of his head, and listened to the sounds of the ER. Somehow, knowing that he had dinner with Felicity to look forward to made even the incessant sound of coughing echoing through the room that much less awful. And, as the soft strings of Christmas music cut through the white noise of the ER, Oliver made a mental note to get Sara Diggle a really nice present this year.

[all-appreciation]

Bucket List

4300 words

“Y/LN get in here.” I could hear my boss yell from the end of the hall. I just got off the job and he’s already screaming my name again. I let out a sigh and walk toward his office.

“Yes, sir.” I blatantly say.

“Lose the tone.” I nod in response and raise my chin to look him in the eyes. “I have another job for you.” I let out a soft sigh and take the folder from his desk. I flip it open to see basic information like his address and job, included is a picture of the man. He’s relatively young, only 21, and works at a small cafe in his neighborhood. Surprised to see he’s not in school.

“He doesn’t seem like anything special. No connections and no relative training in any of our fields. Why him?” I question.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” He moved to sit at his desk, “You do your job and we both get paid. He is the requested target and I’m not gonna give up this money.” He took his attention from me to his computer, turning it to me to show the intended amount we were to receive. My eyes widened.

“I’m guessing I’ll have to do the recon before attempting to intercept?” I spoke as I closed the file and put it under my arm. My boss just nodded before speaking again.

“This is a big assignment, and we were told to expect to be here for the long run. You’ll have your work cut out for you and it will involve undercover work I’m sure. When you know his demand report back to me and we’ll move on from there.” he spoke with a tone of finality. “As always you know to be careful. I won’t lose you.” I nodded my head before leaving his office. I would need to start right away.

I searched around for an opening to rent close to my targets work and home. Luckily an opening was in his own building. Right across the hall from his apartment. I immediately responded and began renting the apartment. Knowing his work schedule would make it easy to start moving in as he’s arriving home. With any luck he’ll offer to help.

I was gonna have to move off base, meaning I would need enough things to make it look like I was living there for the long run. I’d have to borrow some stuff from around the base common room. It was easy to pick stuff up but moving the bigger things like the couch and bed into the apartment was done with help from my subordinates.

As soon as this Seokmin character got off work, I started moving my smaller but heavy boxes into the apartment. He matched his photo perfectly, big smile and all, and it seems I was correct about him offering to help.

I was struggling with a larger box when he walked by. He swung his bag across his back and walked toward me.

“Let me help you out.” he spoke placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh, thank you. It was heavier than I expected.” I mumbled while discretely examining his figure. He lifted the box from my arms and walked toward the elevator. “I wouldn’t want you to carry it all the way though. I’m on the 10th floor. You can just place it down and I’ll carry it the rest of the way.”

“I couldn’t let a lady do that. It’s not a problem anyways, I’m on the 10th floor as well. I actually didn’t know there were any openings.” He placed the box down and stretched his arms. He actually looked pretty fit.

“Well I called the landlord as soon as I saw the opening. I’ve been wanting to move here since I came to Korea.” I pressed the button to our floor and turned to smile at him after I explained.

“Well I hope you’ll enjoy it here. The tenants are pretty quiet but it’s a nice complex.” He finished his sentence as the elevator dinged on our floor. I held the door as he lifted the box.

“That’s good to hear. I know it’s safe too. It’s nice to be out of the studio apartment and have separate rooms. Even the prices about match, it was a steal to be honest.” I explained as we walked toward my door. I held open my door for him and asked him to place the box by the couch.

“Well that’s a coincidence. I’m right across the hall.” he giggled out.

“That is a coincidence.” I blurted out with a smile. “It will be nice to know I have such a nice and handsome neighbor though.” I decided to flirt a little. I received that bright smile with a blush in return. He cleared his throat before responding.

“Anything else I can help you with?” he questioned while looking around the box filled room.

“I think that box was the last one actually. I’d invite you to dinner if it wasn’t such a mess, just as a thank you. Maybe...you’d like to come over for dinner when most things are unpacked?” I know I’d need to befriend him if I wanted to know his request, this would be a good way to start.

“I’d like that. I’m just across the hall if you ever need me...Oh my, I didn’t even ask for your name or tell you mine, I’m so sorry. I’m Seokmin but my friends call me Dk.” he seemed panicked when he realized he never asked my name, it was actually kinda cute.

“Don’t worry. I should have asked. I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you Dk. I’ll make sure to tell you as soon as I have this place cleaned up.” I walked him to the door. “Thank you again Dk. Can’t wait to see you again.” I watched as he walked across the hall toward his door. He smiled at me with a small wave before closing his door.

I lost the smile and closed my own door. I walked to the bedroom to open my laptop and update my boss. I explained that the boy was helpful and kind. He would be easy to gain the trust of and from there, simple to eliminate. I sent the email and then began unpacking the apartment. The faster I finished unpacking, then the faster I can end this assignment.

A new day meant finding something to occupy myself with while Dk was out. I could always break into his apartment to try and find information. Wait...that’s an idea. I know his schedule in detail and have plenty of time to get in and out before he even hangs up his apron. If I could just find the copy of his key I have. Maybe it’s in his file. I knew I should have put the file somewhere I could find it and not hidden in the bottom of a box. It was more than a hassle to dig out of the open boxes I have left to unpack.

As soon as that key was in my hand, I set up a loop video of an empty hallway to the security camera and quickly went into his apartment, door closed behind me. The place was neat and tidy. As to be expected. Nothing seemed out of place and nothing seemed remotely incriminating on any spectrum. Nothing of importance was in the kitchen or living room. The bathroom was spotless. No human lives this clean. The last place to look was the bedroom. It was a pigs pen. So it seemed the bedroom was where he kept his mess. This might take awhile to look through.

I started by rummaging through the bed, seeing a few dirty magazines under the mattress like a twelve old would do. The only interesting thing in his side table was a bible and pocket knife. Nothing in or on the dresser seemed out of the ordinary. The closet was sparse, probably because most of the clothes were on the floor or in the hamper. His own bathroom was cleaner and empty. This boy has nothing that would put him anywhere near my business. I decide to try one last thing. He has an old wooden headboard, I had one like it with a secret compartment.

I tap around the sides and front before moving to the back. One of the panels shifts and I’m able to pull it off. He has a hidden journal. I take a seat on his bed and flip through the journal. He talks about his friends and his job. He speaks of past relationships, but a continuous topic is love and how he wishes to find it. This boy has never felt love.

I place the journal and panel back, checking to make sure nothing is out of place in his apartment before leaving. I email my boss again with the lack of information and move to finish unpacking the last few boxes.

Just as I’m placing some pots and pans in the kitchen, there’s a knock at my door. I walk over and open it to see Seokmin. I lean against the door frame before speaking.

“Hey Dk. What can I help you with?”

“I grabbed some extra take out and thought I’d invite you over. I’m sure you’ve been unpacking all day and could use a break.” He has a shy smile as he holds up the takeout.  

“You don’t even know me.” I let out a giggle.

“I’d like to get to know you. I mean we are neighbors.” He smiles so wide, I can’t see his eyes anymore.

“I’d love to come over. I’d like to get to know you too.” I admit. “Let me just slip on some shoes real quick.” I run to my room, slip on my shoes, and grab my keys before locking my door and following him to his place. “You have a nice place. Better decorated than mine.” I can hear him let out a soft chuckle, it’s actually nice.

“Well you aren’t even unpacked yet. I’m sure you’re place will look a hundred times better than mine once you’re done.” He places the take out on the coffee table in the living room. “Go ahead and have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” He moves to the kitchen as I take my shoes off and fold my feet under me as I sit down. He returns a few moments later, handing me a plate. We distribute the food and eat in silence for a few moments.

“So how old are you Dk?” I ask after swallowing.

“I’m 21. I’m sure younger than you.” he answers.

“Actually I’m only 20 but I’ve been working for years and have some inheritance.” I tell him. He nods his head and takes another bite. I want to flirt a bit, maybe he’ll open up. “Is your girlfriend OK with me being over?” He chokes a little before responding.

“Oh..uh...I don’t have a girlfriend. Haven’t for a while.” He mumbles.

“Oh. I just assumed someone as sweet and attractive as you would be taken. You also have that ring with the symbol. I thought it may have been a promise ring.” I shrug and take another bite. I glance up to see him looking down with a soft smile.

“Well it is a promise ring, just for my friends, not a girl. I actually haven’t had a long term girlfriend before.” He doesn’t look at me while he speaks. I place my hand on his folded knee.

“1. That is really sweet of you and your friends and 2.,” I move my hand back to lap, “ I’ve never even had a boyfriend.”

“What?” he gasps out. I snap my eyes to his at his outburst. “I’m sorry, it’s just...you are really attractive yourself. I thought for sure you had a boyfriend.” I giggle.

“I’ve just never found someone I connected to or saw as romantically attractive.” I look down at my lap before glancing back up at him, “Maybe someone will change that soon.” He lets out another bright smile.

We finish dinner with little silence. Continuing to ask each other questions. I tell him more about me than I intended but I felt so comfortable around him. Something I haven't felt around people for a long time. We even end up watching a movie late into the night. He, like a dork, walks me to my door.

“You didn’t have to walk me.” I lightly shake my head at him while unlocking my door.

“I know, but I wanted to.” He’s whispering. I prop my door open and tilt my head at him. He just smiles again. I shake my head and lean up to kiss his cheek, whispering out a thank you. I rush inside and watch through the peephole as he holds his cheek before turning to walk back to his own apartment, a goofy half smile on his face. I lock my door and rush to my room, heart beating fast. Seokmin is very open. I learned so much about him in the one night and for some reason, he makes my heart speed up. I can easily admit he’s attractive, anyone could see that. But I can’t admit that he makes me…..feel things I know I shouldn’t when it’s going to end the way it is. I go to sleep that night, plagued with thoughts of Seokmin and his sunny smile.

The next day I finish unpacking and go to the store for food. I wanted to make dinner for Seokmin tonight. I pick up the essentials for the meal I have planned and then extra foods for the nights I’m alone. I pay and rush home to start. I was out later than expected and get back around the same time as Seokmin.

“Hey Y/N!” he shouts when he notices me, “Need any help?” he motions to the bags. I nod and hand him a few bags, giving my arms a break.

“Thank you so much Dk.” We walk toward the elevator together.

“What’s with all the food?” He says holding up a few bags.

“Well I needed something to eat, can’t have take out every night.” He eyes some things in the bags as I speak. “And, I wanted to make you dinner. The place is all unpacked and even a little decorated how I like it.” He doesn’t respond so I continue. “You don’t have to come over though. It’s all up to you, I just wanted to say thank you with more than words.” The elevator dings and I walk out before he responds.

“No no no, I’d love to have dinner.” I could hear him jog up behind me. “I’m just a little surprised that you unpacked so fast is all.”

“Oh, good. You had me worried for a minute.” I giggle out. “I can tell you’re itching to change, why don’t you do that and then you can come over whenever. Dinner should be ready by six.” I unlock my door and take the bags from him, swinging open the door with my foot.

“I’ll be fast. Honestly, I’d love to watch you cook.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I even have some beers or a bottle of wine in the cooler. I’ll bring one over. Any particular choice?”

“Surprise me.” he winks at my response and rushes into his apartment. I shake my head a little and move to the kitchen. I just start to put things away when there’s a knock at the door. “It’s open, Seokmin.” The door swings open and he walks into the kitchen, placing a wine bottle on the counter.

“You seem the classy type, so I brought the wine.” He takes a seat at the bar stool to his side.

“Well I do always like a good wine, sometimes even a shitty wine. But I swear, if you would have preferred, beer would have been fine.” He shakes his head.

“Wine is fine with me, honestly I prefer it.” He folds his arms on the counter and places his head on them. He watches me as I start preparing the meal. Normally I would be uncomfortable being stared at, in any circumstance, but he makes me feel...safe, something you don’t feel in this line of work. We work in silence after that, the occasional ding from our phones, but it’s just him watching as I move about the kitchen.

“I’m about done. If you want, you can put a movie on. I have hulu, netflix, and a good number of DVD’s.” I say grabbing plates and glasses.

“Netflix and Chill it is. Anything specific you want to watch?” He asks from the living room.

“Something with a happy ending.” I start plating the food and here some beginning scene music play before it pauses. I call him in to grab the wine and glasses while I carry the food out. He comes out close behind me.

“10 Things I Hate About You, that’s a classic.” I comment as we both sit down on the couch. He just nods and pours the wine. “I’ve always loved this movie. Not my favorite but I love it.”

“What’s your favorite?” he hands me my glass.

“The Princess Bride. It’s sweet and funny.” I take a sip from my wine as he scoots a little closer to me.

“You’ll have to show it to me then.” He speaks as I pass him his plate. “This looks and smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.”

“Well don’t wait for me, go ahead and dig in.” I start the movie and take my plate from the table to start eating.

We watch the movie in relative silence. We occasionally comment, cringe, or awe. Without my realization, the empty plates have moved to the table; my head has ended up on his shoulder and his arm around me. I don’t remember the last time someone has been close enough for me to smell their cologne, let alone held me like this. I actually really like it. The movie ends on a high note and me almost in Seokmin’s lap.

“You know what the one thing I want in life, the only thing I crave before I die?” he whispers out. I hum in acknowledgment and bury myself deeper into his side. “Love. I just want to fall in love. Truly love someone. Whether it’s just once or multiple times. Whether it lasts or not. I just want to experience true and pure love.” And there’s the one thing I feared. He had finally told me what he desired most and I would have to comply. I hate to say I wouldn’t mind falling in love with him, the problem comes with how I’d have to end it.

“That’s a beautiful thing to want and it’s not impossible.” I respond without looking at him. He lifts my head to his as The Princess Bride begins to play.

“I know it’s not, I just have to find her.” he looks into my eyes as he speaks and it’s like I can’t control myself. I lean up and place my lips on his, my hand moving to his cheek. I pull away slowly and whisper against his lips.

“Maybe she’s closer than you think.”

The movie is over without me realizing. I was too caught up in my thoughts. I walk him to the door and he places a kiss against my temple before he walks to his own apartment. The door closes quietly behind him and I return to the living room, moving the dishes to the sink. When I sit back in the living room I notice the quarter empty bottle of wine and decide something.

I have feelings for the one man I shouldn’t.

I spend the next hour drinking from that bottle of wine. Unluckily my tolerance is high from years of drinking, I never get the buzz I truly need. I update my boss on what’s occured, leaving out the kiss. The night ends with me in bed, contemplating my life. From where I began to where I am now. I always thought what I did was noble, the only person who lets someone live their last wish. I’m starting to wonder if anything I do is right. If my whole life has been a series of wrong decisions.

The next couple weeks is mostly a blur. I end up asking Seokmin out on a date and he does the same in return a few days later. We have dinner and movies at least 4 times both weeks. Sometimes we just go on walks and talk. I’m constantly learning new things about him. Things I’ll treasure. I’m growing more and more attached; I grow to like him more and more every day.

I’m falling in love with him.

I’ve never had this happen. I’ve given men and women alike sex. I’ve let some murder. I’ve spent months learning the ins and outs of a single person and I never grew attached. But Seokmin....He’s different, special. Everything he tells me seems like the most interesting thing in the world. He eyes shine like the sun when he talks about what he loves and his smile. My god his smile. From the small quirk of his lip to the smile that makes his eyes invisible, it’s like the brightest star in the sky, the one everyone is wishing on. I’m in deep but I don’t want to come back to the surface.

That weekend he asks me to be his and I say yes, not because I have to but because I want to. I want to live in this dream for as long as I can.

Throughout the next 2 months, I give my boss sparse updates. I tell him as little as I can while making sure he doesn’t question me. I tell him about the date Seokmin has planned for that night and that He won’t get and update ‘til the next day.

I change into some comfortable clothes and grab a couple pillows and a blanket. Seokmin is at my door a few moments later, wish a kiss on my cheek he takes my hand and leads me down to his truck. I place the blanket and pillows in the backseat and take a seat shotgun.

We listen to music as he drives us toward the river. He parks close by and we go toward the riverside to set up the blankets and pillows to lay on. He pulls out a little radio from the picnic basket and turns it to our favorite station. We lay down by each other and stare into the night sky.

“You hungry?” I hear him whisper from beside me.

“A little.” he sits up and I follow, crossing my legs. He pulls out some still warm containers and hands me some utensils.

“I’m not as good as you, but I thought I’d try cooking tonight.” He rubs the back of his neck as I open the container.

“I’m sure it will taste amazing.” I unwrap and open the container, taking a tentative bite of the rice and fish. After the initial bite, I realize how good it actually tastes and take a few more bites. “This is really good.” I mumble through a mouth full of food. I can hear Dk chuckle before he starts eating too. I Can hear the muffled sounds of Taeyang’s Wedding Dress as we stare out across the lake. I finish before him and start to sing along. He finishes moments later and puts away the empty dishes, pulling out a bottle of wine.

He pulls my legs over his and we drink in the soft silence. I can hear the crickets under the music and the soft flow of the river. I finish my glass and place it down by the basket, moving to lay down beside Seokmin’s reclined body. He joins me a few moments later, placing one arm behind his head and other beneath mine. I have no idea how long we lay there together, just listening to the other breath and the sounds of nature.

My Love by Lee Seung Chul comes on, it’s one of my favorites. I can feel Seokmin shift to his side and pull a pillow under his head, wrapping his other arm around my waist. He starts to softly sing along into my ear, I subconsciously move closer. I turn to face him as he sings. He never fully looks at me as he mumbles along. Until..

“...I Love You.” He looks directly into my eyes when he sings the last line. He raises the arm from my waist to the back of my head and pulls my lips to his. I mumble an ‘I love you too’ against his lips before pressing my body to his, as close as possible. I kiss him until my lips are numb and then I do it again. I know this could be the last time I ever feel this.

He takes me home that night. We exchange I Love You’s at the door before going separate ways. I immediately email my boss and tell him the mission will end soon. That I’ve given him his last wish.

I sleep through the next day, past the time Seokmin gets home. I spend the night and the next day thinking about what to do. I love him. God I love him so much but I have a job to do. I don’t know what to do.

I have to tell him.

[hoyoungy]

blocked.zip | soonyoung (i)

genre: comedy, “fbi agent” au | fbi agent!soonyoung x reader summary: you’ve gotten away with downloading a lot of copyrighted content in the past, but now the fbi agent assigned to you has had enough of it word count: 1738 a/n: you know that fbi agent joke thing going around? i thought it was funny and soonyoung’s funny so i mean it fits. this is a word vomit. warnings include swearing

part ii

“Ugh,” you groaned as you tried to ‘legally’ download a youtube file as a .mp3 format for the third time. Each time you tried, the unusually usual mysterious and invisible window would pop up on the screen for a second and disappear the next, with you stuck on the same website and the file failing to download.

“Can’t you just buy the song?” your roommate asked as she sat across from you at the dining table.

“And throw away like, $2.00? No, thanks.”

“Pirating files is super dangerous these days! Haven’t you seen the news? There are like, FBI agents that are watching you through your webcam. Or-or how your phone and Google can detect your voice, hear what you’re saying while you’re just having a casual conversation, and show you ads that are similar? Watch, let’s test it out,” she said, clearing her throat. “Oh, no! Looks like we ran out of coffee. I really wish we had some coffee right now! I love light roast and blond coffee blends -”

“Shut up, you really believe in that stuff?” you scoffed as you properly categorized your newly downloaded song file in your library.

“Of course I do! Didn’t you see that one video where that girl bought a laptop online and the camera was always on, but she ignored it and went about her day, but a couple of months later, some creep broke into her house and murdered her!?”

“Well, yeah, that was scary… but I taped over the webcam! That has nothing to do with me trying to enjoy my favorite band’s music for free. Appreciating art shouldn’t cost so much money. And besides, this isn’t some post-Y2K paranoia era anymore. Remember when we were so scared as kids when we pirated songs off of Limewire? The FBI has become way more lenient these days ~”

“Whatever you say, _____, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when some weirdo American gets access to your webcam and watches you changing ~”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you muttered. “Ok, on to their next album…”

“Soonyoung, what the hell!” Jihoon scolded him in his office. A slumped and embarrassed Soonyoung sat in front of Jihoon’s desk as he listened to yet another lecture about not keeping a close eye on your internet activity. But it wasn’t his fault you bent the law so often! “Are you not paying attention to your person again? How many times do I have to tell you to not watch Naruto on the second monitor!?”

“I’m not, I swear! And I am paying attention to her! She’s downloaded like, five albums of different artists in the past twelve hours, how am I supposed to keep up with that!?”

“That’s what the ads are for!”

“I’ve tried, Jihoon! She has an ad-blocker for the ad-blocker! She always finds a way to stop me! You know how there isn’t a cure for the common cold because it adapts and evolves so often? She’s exactly like that!”

“Try harder. You’re a FBI agent, for Christ’s sake. You have access to basically their entire internet history and activity! There’s always a way around it, trust me. Start by sending her a threatening message, or something, to slow down the downloading.”

“Just message them? Can we do that…?”

“Of course we can. It’s just like an email. Just be like, ‘hey, we’ve noticed some suspicious activity on your laptop, please refrain from blah blah blah,’ and that’s it.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Just say you’re in the FBI or something, that usually scares them.”

“I mean, I am in the FBI…”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem. Hurry and watch her activity before she pirates all of Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo. Your report says that was her latest search.”

“Fuck,” Soonyoung cursed before running out of Jihoon’s office.

When he got back to his desk, it was already too late. On the screen that monitored your internet activity on your laptop, the screen showed that you were already in the middle of downloading episode three.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Soonyoung practically keyboard-smashed a bunch of codes onto the screen that paused your downloading process.

“What the hell!” he heard you screech into his headset. “Are you kidding me!?”

“Now’s my chance.”

On the other side of the screen, you quit your browser and tried to redownload the third episode for the third time, but the download kept failing. That was it, you were going to take your laptop to a Genius bar, or something -

“You have (1) Unread Message,” your laptop chimed.

With hesitation, you opened the suspiciously red message. “Hello, _____,” you muttered aloud. “We have noticed some suspicious activity on your computer. Remember to please refrain from downloading any copyrighted… blah blah blah… Oh shit, hey, take a look at this!” you called your roommate.

“What’s up?”

“The FBI’s watching me!” you snorted.

“Why is she laughing!?” Soonyoung asked his lonely cubicle.

“Why are you laughing!? Oh, my God, see I told you this was going to happen! Look at what you did, now I bet they’ve hacked into my laptop, too! We are so screwed! We’re going to get arrested!” your roommate panicked. “I bet they’re listening to us right now! _____, shut down your laptop - no, burn it -”

“Relax, will you! It’s just a prank, or something! Or another pop-up ad!”

“I’ll show you a pop-up ad…” Soonyoung scoffed. On his end, he coded another message onto your laptop screen. He was probably getting a little carried away with a second message, but clearly you weren’t listening, and Jihoon did tell him to get more serious with this job. He’s not hurting anyone, anyways.

The next message popped up on your laptop screen for you and your roommate to see.

“‘This isn’t a prank’…” your roommate whispered. “This isn’t a prank… This isn’t a prank! Oh, shit, they really are listening to us!”

“No fucking way,” you cursed. “Ok, Mr. FBI agent, if this isn’t a prank, then… what’s our Wifi network?”

“‘PrettyFlyforAWiFi.’ Holy shit, this is real, this is happening right now,” your roommate panicked.

“Shut up! What was my most recent search?”

After scrolling through your history for several minutes, Soonyoung replied with, ‘How to clean wine stains.’

“Do you know our cat’s name…?”

‘Truffle.’

“Holy shit.” You began to laugh quite hysterically, still unable to believe that you had a real FBI agent assigned to you and was currently chatting it up with you and your terrified roommate. Your mind began to flash back to all the embarrassing and, um, not so appropriate searches you’ve done in the past. Everything you’ve ever searched, downloaded, basically have seen on the internet, this person has seen you do it.

“Burn it,” your roommate threatened. “Or I’m gonna do it.”

“No, I can’t afford another laptop right now! Besides, I bet you have an FBI agent assigned to you, too.”

“Yeah, but at least I won’t go to jail for downloading illegal content.”

“That’s true…”

“You won’t go to jail, dumbass.”

Both you and your roommate stopped moving when your laptop began to speak. Now this was really starting to get scary.

On Soonyoung’s end, who was tired of typing out all of his proof and explainations that have been ignored as you and roommate bickered, he decided to finally turn on his microphone on his headset and do the absolute unspeakable - talk to his assigned citizen. Soonyoung was already in deep shit with Jihoon and the entire agency anyways, so he might as well dig deeper.

“You won’t go to jail now, but if you keep downloading and torrenting so much stuff, you will.”

“It’s a boy,” you stated. “My FBI agent’s a dude. Ok, that, in some form or another, has to be illegal, too, like that’s just not safe or fair!”

“Life isn’t safe or fair.”

“Are you my mother now? My FBI agent mother?”

“I can’t believe you’re arguing with your laptop,” your roommate said as she walked away from you. “Don’t bring that thing near me until you figure out your legal problems!”

You sighed dramatically so that Soonyoung could hear you from the other side. It was just the two of you now, face to face - sort of - waiting for the other person to break the ice.

“So I’m not going to jail, right?”

“No, but I’m assigned to watch over your internet activity still. If your excessive illegal downloading continues, I’ll have to have you arrested.”

“Then how long until I’m in the clear?”

“Either until you get a new laptop and a new agent assigned to you or as long as I deem necessary.”

“So we’re basically stuck with each other, huh?” you asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“Cool… Well, since we’ll be working together for quite some time, I’ll intoduce myself first. Hi, my name is _____.”

“I know.”

“… Of course you do,” you dead panned. “And you are…?”

“Soonyoung.”

“What a nice name for a scary FBI agent man. Do you know what I look like…?”

“I can only see you when you turn on your webcam.”

“That’s so weird!” You felt the strong shivers creep up your spine at the thought of some strange man looking at you while you webcammed with your friends or classmates. The corners of Soonyoung’s lips twitched slightly at your strange, scared noises. “Please tell me you’re not some old man with a tub of lotion by your desk.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Damn, you know my birthday, too! But somehow knowing we’re the same age makes this all less creepy.”

“That’s… good?”

“I’m not too sure, either. Now that we got formalities out of the way, I’m going to continue downloading this episode if that’s ok with you.”

“What!?” Soonyoung screeched into his mic. “No, that’s not ok! I just told you that you could get arrested!”

“Yeah, but you seem cool!”

“There are dozens of free streaming websites for that show, why do you have to download each episode!?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Oh, my God,” Soonyoung sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly.

You were going to have a lot of fun messing with Soonyoung.