#episode: restaurant wars

[sevenines]

i saw this tweet and found it interesting for two reasons. one is that some people base how good cartoon network would be to toh by how it treated su, and despite the fact that su’s treatment by the network was considered poor at the time, now its thought to be exceptionally good in comparison to modern shows.

two is how exactly su got impacted by a limited budget. a common criticism is how characters like connie, peridot, and lapis are left out of missions. but balancing a lot of characters is not only hard but also costly (extra animation, extra voices—it’s been revealed that the show is limited to a set number of characters per episode otherwise they’re over budget). animation mistakes are not uncommon since retakes cost extra. the entire reason the original show got cut short was due to loss of funding!

[yahoo201027]

Day in Fandom History: July 25…

When Steven orders mozzarella sticks from the fries shop, it reignites a long-time feud between the Frymans and the Pizzas and compete who’s better and Steven wants to put an end to the feud. “Restaurant Wars” premiered on this day, 8 Years Ago.

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s cute.”

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

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

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

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

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

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

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And second of all?”

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

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

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

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

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

“—one should we start with?”

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

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

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

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

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

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

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

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

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

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

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

“No it’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

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

Namjoon rattles off a time.

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

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

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

“Haaa, that’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

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

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

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

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

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

It’s just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You going out of town again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

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

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

“What?”

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

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

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

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

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

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

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

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

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

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

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

“What is this?”

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

“I can see that, but… why?”

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

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

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

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About us.

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

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

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

“Can you not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

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

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

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

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

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a completely normal question.

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

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

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

You swallow. Hard.

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

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

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

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

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

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

Showtime.

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

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

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

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure? We can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds like a challenge.

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

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

“Gummy bear?”

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

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

He continues:

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

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

It works. “No,” he scowls.

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

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

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

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

Then he reads—

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

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

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

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

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

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

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

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

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

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

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

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

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

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is very, very bad.

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

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

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

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

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

You do not get through recording unscathed.

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

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

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

The two of you had sex.

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

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

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

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

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

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

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

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

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

Today, he wears none of those things.

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t get any better.

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

Thirty-five minutes back home.

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

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

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

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

That’ll cure you.

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

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

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

Except—you’re not.

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

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are fucked beyond belief.

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

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

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

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

“I forgot them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

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

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

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

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

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

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

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

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

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

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

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

“Not with you, preferably.”

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

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

No fucking way.

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

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

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

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

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

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

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

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

“How weird?”

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

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

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

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

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

You want to fuck Namjoon.

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

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

And then someone knocks on your door.

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

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

“Uh, hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you’re the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

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

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

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

It’s seamless.

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

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

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

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

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

[2cool4ghoul]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Part 1 <3 Part 2 of I Can Dream, Can't I?

AO3 link <3

Word count: 4,454

Summary: You get dragged along to one of your husbands business dinners with his insufferable obnoxious colleagues. But when one of the attendees can't take his eyes of you, you begin to question his intentions...

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex, fingering, swearing, AFFAIRS I guess, an adulterer, smoking?, unprotected sex, p in v, age gap

Hiiiiiiiiiii

cannot believe that part 1 did so well, that's big fun vibes thank u for reading it and enjoying that with me ! I apologise for how long this took me however life got ahead of me.

we have a flashback episode today to provide some lore and content for you and coopers past. I had intended to include some present ghoul content in this however it got so long that I have to split it up. sorry bout that.

<3<3<3<3<3 <3<3<3<3<3 <3<3<3<3<3 <3<3<3<3<3

It had started just like any other dinner. Your husband, parading you like a trophy, in a ridiculously tight dress, for all his likeminded businessmen colleges to congratulate him on. The line rehearsed and repeated every single time. “This, gentlemen, is my gorgeous wife, you can look, but keep your hands to yourselves.” It was becoming increasingly difficult to fake the smile that had made you famous, ignoring the jeers and laughs, which had been meant as compliments. 

This particular dinner, was with executives and stars from the studio he’d recently snatched up with the promise of making you a star. And whilst every night was the same, the same men, the same stares, the same pressed suits and watches, cigar smoke, martini’s…. There was one particular entity who seemed to catch your gaze from the other side of the table. He’d been watching your every move it felt like, his following your silk gloved fingers as you lit your cigarette. 

You took note of his features and of his silence amongst the loud overbearing men. His eyes seemingly closed in the dimly lit restaurant, his lips wet with whiskey, no doubt as he sat back relaxed in his chair. His staring was uncomfortable, like he was trying to figure you out, looking deep behind the facade you’d been forced into, hiding any remnants of your past life on the farm. You blew smoke from your lips, the conversations around you had faded, letting your eyes gaze away from his for a moment, only to look back to confirm if he was still looking, which he was. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d of thought this was a proposition. This caused you to tense, finally addressing his forwardness.

“Didn’t your mother teach you that it was rude to stare?” You finally broke your silence, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. With your back straight, a scowl had painted your face as he released a scoff, adjusting himself in his seat. Robert, looked between the two of you as a silence had fell upon the table.

“Please, Mr Howard, excuse my wife’s forwardness, she gets a bit overexcited at times!” He apologised, waving a hand in the air before turning towards you, who’s eyes were still locked with the mans. Who you now knew to be ‘Mr Howard.’ “Hon, Thats Cooper Howard, he’s a pretty big name at the studio, don’t go causing a scene.” He warned, his voice low, spoken into your neck with a kiss. It was a threat, one that you knew would be further implemented the moment you arrived home. You pouted like a scolded child, turning your attention to your martini in front of you, taking a large sip. You glanced from behind the glass rim, Coopers attention no longer on you, but with a man beside him. You had won a small victory, your point had been made and he was no longer staring you down. 

The rest of the meal seemed to carry on as usual. The waitress had come round to get the tables order, a side salad ordered for you, more martinis. Conversations of business, of the war, ill-timed political jokes and opinions. Over the past year or so, you’d managed to master the art of disassociation, your body being present at the table yet your mind was back in the fields, tending to the animals, hanging your clothes on the washing lines to dry… You could rehearse an entire daily routine so well that you could’ve sworn you could smell the morning dew on the grass, the breeze causing goosebumps to peak on your skin. Yet every now and then, a drunken obnoxious laugh would tear you from the safeness of your mind, reminding you that you were still there amongst these men. Where had it all gone wrong? 

You needed air.

“Excuse me, boys,” You spoke lowly, “I’m going to go powder my nose.” The men nodded towards you, Robert lifting his head to get a better look at you. Pushing your bleached blonde curls over your shoulder, you placed a red lipped kiss on his cheek, leaving an imprint you knew would anger him. Smirking on your heel, you walked as he hastily scrambled to remove any trace of the make up left on his skin. 

On your travels to the ladies room, the effect of the, god knows how many, drinks had taken their toll on you, causing a slight stumble in your step. You ended up finding a secluded garden area, lights hanging from branches of trees, twinkling. There was a chill in the nights air, but you preferred the silence, listening to the crunch and rustle of the leaves in the wind. Leaning against a brick wall, you lit a cigarette, staring up into the stars, creating your own constellations. A lonesome smile ghosted your lips, finding peace in this moment to yourself, watching the smoke dissipate into the blue darkness. You could run. Leave and never look back. But where you would go? You were sure the farm had been sold months ago, despite how much Robert denied it. The very thought of it bought a lump to your throat, your jaw clenching, biting the side of your cheek. 

The door to your hiding place opened, your head rolled to the side to examine who opened it. Your admirer from the opposite end of the table. A soft hum of acknowledgement left you, rolling you head back to the stars, flicking ashes from the end of the cigarette. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Closing the door behind him, he stepped closer.

“No, not at all.” Kissing your teeth and keeping your eyes forward, you felt his presence close next to you. “You not enjoying yourself, Mr Howard?” 

“No, no, its not that,” Chuckling coolly, the click and snap of a metal lighter illuminating your peripheral, “Politic’s is not really my area of expertise.” 

“Right.” You nodded a sigh, finally allowing yourself to turn and meet his eye-line.

Upon closer exception you realised he was really rather handsome. A classic look to him, dark hair pushed back with noticeable grey hairs peaking through. His bone structure was distinct, chiselling and framing his face. Those eyes which had been looked on you, twinkling in the sparse lighting. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip, the taste of nicotine filling your mouth. You didn’t know his age, but he was definitely significantly older than you. “I don’t believe I got your name?” His voice was smooth, making your stomach do flips.

“I don’t believe that I said it.” You smirked, staring up at him through your lashes due to him standing much taller than you, even when he was leaning on his shoulder against the wall. He let out a laugh, raising his eyebrows, waiting for a response to his answer. “Lana.” Lying, you held out your hand for him to shake, keeping your real name close to your chest. 

“Lana,” Testing the name on his lips, he blew smoke in your direction which you inhaled through your nose discreetly, “what a pretty name, for such a pretty young girl, like yourself.” The smile that he was flashing you caused you to roll your eyes, releasing a sarcastic giggle.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the pretty ones,” He teased you, winking at you. You pretended not to notice his eyes trailing down to your chest, stealing a glance at your exposed cleavage from his height advantage.

“What about the married ones?” Raising a brow, you bit back at him, the smirk on your lips letting him know that was a sadistic joke at your own expense.

“Where you from, Lana?” His question was heavier than he knew. Something about him made you want to tell him the truth. But you couldn’t just reveal yourself to any man who made you smile.

“Why’d you wanna know?” Suppressing your southern accent had never been more important, the recognition of his own caused you to work extra hard to hide yours.

“It’s called small talk, somethin’ tells me you’re not too good at it.” He wrapped his lips around his cigarette again, your breathing heavy as you kept your gaze focussed on his mouth, inhaling the smoke. 

“I grew up in New York, moved here after I met Robert 2 years ago.” The story and all of its details had been a fabricated story made up by Robert so that you could prove yourself more marketable. A socialite from New York, from a rich distinguished family.

“Is that so?” He seemed intrigued, letting his lips turn downward. “And now, your gonna be filming at the studio, huh?”

“Are you interrogating me, Mr Howard?” It came out more seductive than stern, a way of avoiding anymore questions by distracting him. “I hear you play a big time sheriff in your movies,” You stepped closer to him, the amusement evident on his face as he sized you up, “you gonna cuff me up?” You could tell he was thinking about it, his answer hesitating on his lips. You wished he would, there was something so enticing about him, his whole demeanour and charisma causing you to ache between your legs, feeling the dampness against the lace covering your heat.

“Now, what would your husband think about that?” This was a fun game for him, the way you were looking up at him, so willing and eager sending shivers down his spine.

“What he don’t know wont hurt him.” Shrugging playfully, you fluttered your lashes, watching as he licked his lips, a taunted groan leaving from his chest.

“You’re real trouble, you know that?” He waved a finger at you, you tempted wrapping your mouth around it, sucking down to the knuckle, your spit dripping around him as he filled your mouth. Instead you smacked it away lightly, remembering your place. You turned away from him in a way to release some of the attention, your mind roaming to unholy places. 

“I’m a good girl, Mr Howard.” Scoffing, your cheeks ached as they tried to conceal the wild grin he was pulling from you. Maybe it was the confidence from the drinks swirling around your system, but this was the most exciting and arousing interaction you’d had. Everything with Robert felt so transactional, ticking boxes out of necessity. But this was different.

“I bet you are.” He praised and you pretended shock at his forwardness.

“I’m not that kind of girl.”

“And I’m not that kind of man.” He raised his hands in defence, yet when they lowered, one brushed against the bare skin of your arm, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, turning back round to face him, becoming aware of how alarmingly close he now was to you. His breathe was fanning over your wet lips, your cheeks flushing to an embarrassingly shade of red. You were locked in eye contact, for what felt like the millionth time that night, watching as he undressed you with his eyes. 

There was silence between the two of you, all except for the heavy breathing leaving both of you, wondering who would make the next move, wondering what the next move even was. This was wrong. It was wrong because you were married, it was wrong because two hours previous to this you didn’t even know he existed, it was wrong because you were pretty sure he could’ve been the same age as your father, maybe even older. But you felt electric, like you skin was on fire and only he could put it out. You wanted him to put it out, you would’ve dropped to your knees and pleaded with him for anything. Maybe it was the adrenaline of getting caught. Maybe it was the way he was eliciting such innate desire from you, from just the tiniest of interactions. You were aching for him, and judging by the tightness and the way he was adjusting himself in his trousers, he was aching for you too.

“You love your husband?” His question took you off guard, yet you didn’t hesitate to answer.

“No.” Shaking your head quickly, your eyes were wide. Biting his lip, he allowed himself a moment to ponder the morals he was breaking. 

“Goddamn, what am I going to do with you, huh?” His hand came up to brush your cheek, pushing away a few stray hairs, his fingers grazing your skin so gently, you were starved for more. You decided to pursue an earlier desire, his thumb carelessly brushing against your bottom lip for a second, leaving you free to take advantage. 

You parted your lips, allowing the tip of your tongue to taste him first, before pushing your head forward, maintaining widened eye contact, taking his thumb into your mouth. You sucked around him, your tongue working around, tasting as much as you could, trying to savour the moment in case he, fairly, ripped his hand from you as punishment for taking it too far. You waited for this, yet he did not. He knitted his brows, mouth falling slightly slack before tutting at you. “Fuck this.” He muttered, taking his hand from your mouth and instead wrapping it around your neck, forcing you forward. 

He forced his lips on you, taking the dominance, leaving you whimpering at the sudden feeling of his mouth hot against yours. Pushing against him, trying to feel as much of him as possible, hands finding themself tightly squeezing the wrist of his hand, still gripping your neck. His tongue licked against your lips before finding its way into your mouth, working alongside yours as the kiss deepened, your cunt squeezing around nothing, begging for something to soothe the throbbing ache that was pooling between your legs. When his hand finally left your neck, it was replaced by his lips, smudging red lipstick down your chin and neck. His hand travelled down your chest, taking a moment to squeezed your breast on the way down, frustrated by the layers of material that stopped him from getting a better look at you. By this point, he had you pinned against the rough exterior of the brick wall, his body pressed against yours, thigh between your legs. “Oh, Mr Howard.” You moaned between bitten lips, head falling back exposing more of your neck to him. 

“Call me Cooper.” He muttered, “If we’re doing this, we’re at least gonna be on a first name basis, alright, sweetheart?” Your heart fluttered at the pet name. 

“Mmhmm Cooper- Oh!” Whilst you nodded in agreement, his fingertips had found their way under your dress skirt, hoisting it up your legs. The cold air tingled against your wet cunt, legs squeezing against his thigh. 

“Christ, look at you.” He mumbled to himself, bitting his lip, taking in the sight of the mess you’d made in your panties. “Need me that badly, huh, doll?” You could only make out an embarrassed hum in response, blushing at his southern drawl which made everything eel so much more erotic. He touched you through the lace, leaving the thin layer on to tease you even more. You needed as much friction as possible, grinding against his fingers, feeling a tension building within you, that you’d never felt before. His fingertips seemed to focus where it was most sensitive, having no issue finding your clit even through your panties. The sweat blanketing your body make your make up run slightly. Tipping you head forward, you looked down, watching him play with you, his fingers damp even with the barrier of lace keeping him out. You were biting your lip to stop moans from escaping you. You couldn’t explain the feeling taking over your body, every inch of you reacting, goosebumps covering every bit of skin, nipples hard. 

“Please.” You couldn’t stand much longer, meeting his gaze again. You didn’t even know what you were begging him for or what he was willing to give you. You just knew that every part of you needed it, heart racing like it was going to jump out your chest. “Please Cooper, give it to me, I need you.” You planted kisses over his face, moving to just behind his ear, sucking and eliciting a growl from him, his hand pushing aside the soaking lace. 

“Dripping for me, aren’t ya, angel, making a mess?” He use his other hand to push hair out of your face to view the pathetic ruin he’d caused. You’d open your mouth to agree with him, telling him anything you’d believe he wanted to hear, but you words were stopped and choked in your throat due to his finger fucking its way into you. He was wasting no time, the slap of his skin and the wetness of your cunt erupting into the quiet night. Your eyes squeezed shut and he released a smug chuckle, proud of himself for the reaction he was causing. 

Upon adding another finger, he had to force his other hand over your mouth as you frantically tried to keep in your moans, his fingers curling inside you finding the sweet spot that was sending you over the edge. “It’s gon’ be a tight fit, princess, you best kept that pretty little mouth shut,” He pressed his lips to your ear, “can you do that for me, you gon’ be a good girl for me?” You could only silently nod and hum in response, his hand firm over your mouth. “Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to your ear.

You felt empty when he removed his fingers to unbuckle his belt, the jangle of the metal stirring excitement within you. With one finger, he tugged your panties down your thighs and you stepped out of them, shocked when he shoved them into his back pocket. “I’ll look after those.” He smirked, winking at you at your flushed cheeks, hand finally leaving your mouth. He pulled his cock free, your eyes went big seeing the size of it, hard, his fist pumping around it as he scoffed at your reaction. “Told ya, sweetheart, tight fit.” He let go of himself, hand reaching round to slap your ass, gesturing for you to jump up, your dress bunching round your waist. You did so, wrapping your legs around his waist. His forehead rested against yours as you both watched him line himself up with your throbbing entrance. “You sure you want this, sweetheart?” He kissed you lightly on the lips, his tip pressing against you, hot.

“I need you, Cooper Howard.” You pleaded against his lips, begging for the tension within you to be relieved somehow. Groaning at your response, he nodded.

His cock stretched you, squeezing around him, eyes rolling back into your head. Unable to make noise as you winced, mouth wide open. He also, silently, bit his lip, breathing through his nose through a frown. Your slick cunt pulled him in, he seemed to not end, leaving you panting by the time he’d bottomed out. You were gasping for air, going slightly lightheaded as he filled you, giving you a moment to adjust. Your hands were splayed out against his chest, his own heart beating against your palm. “Can I?” His voice almost desperate.

“Please, fuck me.” Nodding, you buckled your hips forward, forcing friction and movement from him.

When he finally moved, he tediously pulled out all the way, making sure you felt every inch of you, watching as you dripped a white sheen cast on his cock, before snapping brutally into you. You gripped at the suit jacket, knuckles turning white at this harsh movement. This was the start of a cruelly quick pace, slapping into you whilst his balls fell against your bare ass. “Oh fucking christ,” He cursed his head falling into the curve of your neck, gasps leaving your open mouth, “You’re taking me so fuckin’ well, darlin’” Cooper gripped on your hips, holding you in place whilst he relentlessly fucked into you, his cock forcing you open. 

You had been trying your hardest to hold in your moans, but to no avail, so his hand had returned to your mouth. Your eyes had rolled back into your head, the white showing. Pleasure was rampaging through your body, your back arching into him, gripping onto him. Watching him disappear into you made you turn dizzy, feeling him deep inside you, brushing and pressing against your cervix. Your hands tugged at the buttons on his shirt, pushing your hands under to touch as much of him as possible, leaving one against his skin, the other lacing through his hair, pulling him closer.

Tears were running down you face, your make up well and truly ruined, smeared everywhere, read covering his face too. “Look at me, Angel” He commanded, “Feel good? Yeah?” His lips were brushing against your forehead before meeting your covered face, your curls coming loose. “My cock feel good?” He whispered against your neck, earning another delighted hum from you. “I can feel how much you love it.” He thrusted into you, pushing deep as you walls clenched around his heavy girth.

The build up had grown too much for you, you were begging to let go, to let your body rest and release. And he was coaxing it out of you too quick and too sweet, you didn’t know what was coming. The heat pooling in your lower stomach like nothing you’d felt before. You couldn’t explain it but when your body became so hot, heart beat so fast, your whole stomach clenched. “You coming for me, princess, go on, good girl, come around this cock.” He furrowed his brows at your feeling your body tremble and go rigid, your grip becoming deadly around him, eyes squeezed shut. His pace slowed slightly, so he could feel every squeeze every contraction. You had never felt this sensation before, like your whole body had just been ignited. His hand did little to cover the moans, only muffled them as you cursed vision blurry, stars filling your vision. 

After giving you little time to recover, your body slightly limp, he proceeded in using your cunt to fuck himself to his climax. You’d made a creamy mess, forming at the bottom of his cock. He didn’t care, he seemed to enjoy it more, unable to keep a steady pace, growing needy of his own release. He dropped his hand, gripped at your waist again as you pulled him closer for a kiss, using that a buffer for the whines and whimpers. His lips were frantic against you, biting your lip. “I’m close.” He growled and you locked your legs around his waist, keeping him deep inside you.

“Please, give it to me, please.” You whined, his hand returning to lock around your neck, forcing you to look at him in the eyes whilst he filled you up.

Grunting, he buried himself deep into you, feeling as he emptied everything he had in you. You were warm inside, content and stuffed. He was blinking, regaining his steadiness, littering kisses over your face, sweat beading over his forehead. He gradually let your legs drop down, fulling your dress back down to somewhat of its original state. You were wobbly, clarity finally coming over your lust clouded mind. He’d rubbed his face and then stuffed himself back into his trousers, looking you up and down as you timidly stood against the wall, expecting him to tell you what a bad thing you’d done, about how you should tell no one about this ever. 

“I guess you are that kind of man, Mr Howard.” You joked, breaking the silence whilst wiping your dried tears with the back of your hand. He did a double take at your before chuckling and shaking his head.

“I guess I am.” He buckled up his belt, readjusting the crumpled suit jacket. “People will be wondering where we are.” He tipped his head towards the door and you suddenly remembered where you were. 

“Right, yes, of course.” You brushed your hair with your fingers, trying to create some semblance of dignity whilst his cum dripped down your inner thigh.

“I’ll see you back at the table.” He smirked, looking you up and down, turning towards the door, leaving you standing meekly. You watched him leave, the bunched up bulge of your white lace panties peeking over the top of his trouser pocket. 

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wet your face and try to remove any traces of what just happened. That was dirty, you’d been a dirty, low down girl. Here you were, wiping another mans semen from your thighs whilst your husband waited for you in the other room. It made you feel slightly sick, now that you were alone and had time to think about it. But the way he’d made you feel was like any other. You still didn’t understand what had happened to your body, but you were sure he caused it. And that was something you wanted to feel over and over again. Readying yourself to face not only your husband, but also Cooper, you believed you were finally presentable to return to the table and although you’d sobered up, you still walked with a stumble due to the lack of Coopers body between your legs. 

When you had returned, you were disappointed to see no Cooper at the table, his seat empty, his coat missing from the back of it. You did little to hide this disappointment, Robert turning to face your flush body. “Here she is, I was beginning to believe you’d gotten lost!” He scoffed loudly and you remained standing.

“I don’t feel very well, I would like to go home.” You spoke dead pan.

“God! There must be something in the water, Howard said the same damn thing!” He slapped his thighs, standing up and planting a wet scratchy kiss on your cheek, making you quiver.

You’d made a swift exit, waiting in the car with your legs squeezed shut, keeping quiet. Cooper’s own quick exit had made you feel like a whore. Which you supposed thats all you were. You shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as you did. And having Robert in the car beside you, a chauffeur driving you two to your shared home, made you feel 10 times worse. He wasn’t a good husband, or a loving one or an intimate one. But you were making a fool of him. And that scared you. “I was hoping you’d get to talk to Cooper Howard, but you being sick and all…” He trailed off.

“Why?” You turned to him.

“Because I got you a role in a movie with him.”

Fuck.

[nohaijiachi]

I've been seeing just about all moments of GO S2 being put under a microscope and absolutely dissected frame by frame

And still I am yet to see anyone mention a moment that might be small in the grand scheme of things, perhaps not as character defining as many other that have been (rightfully) analyzed a thousand times over, but which was *so* important to me, and every single time I watch it I'm just filled with so many feelings and jhaghagha

(putting this under a read more to not spam y'all with a ginormous post clogging your dashes)

The moment in question is this (my apologies for the pics, I currently don't have a proper way to take screenshots of S2 and had to snap photos of my tv screen lol)

It's such a quick moment, a small blip in the entirety of episode 5, but let me tell you why it absolutely destroys my heart every single time.

First of all let's refresh our memory on Aziraphale's relationship with Heaven and Gabriel specifically, shall we?

The very first time we see Gabriel in S1, he surprises Aziraphale at a sushi restaurant. Aziraphale looks to his left, because that's the side where Crowley usually appears when approaching him, but instead of his boyfriend the familiar Demon, he sees the reflection of Gabriel at his other side, and he turns around with what reads to me as very much an "oh shit" expression.

In episode 2 we see Gabriel again, along with Sandalphon; they are flanking Aziraphale and leaving him no way to escape in what to me seems a blatant intimidation tactic, especially with Gabriel being all "hey you remember Sandalphon, right :)" and Aziraphale being like "Oh yeah, likes smiting and turning people into salt, I sure do! *nervous laugh". There's literally no reason for them to be acting like this if not to (un)subtly remind Aziraphale what his place is, and that he is NOT safe, not even in his bookshop.

Whenever we see Aziraphale in Heaven he is constantly standing ramrod straight, hands kept caged behind him, none of his usual mannerism to be seen. He always smiles like a hare being stared at by a hawk and the cinematography very much underlines that tenseness by both showing the impossible, cold and sterile expanse of Heaven in contrast to the camera being shoved right in the characters' face to make the viewer feel just as uncomfortable as Aziraphale is.

When Gabriel and Aziraphale speak in the park there's this moment after it looks like Gabriel is leaving, but he pops right back up in Aziraphale's space in an instant, causing the reaction we see in these screenshots. Aziraphale is clearly taken aback and tense, eyes widening which is like, fair considering Gabriel pretty much jump scared him, but that's rather the point, isn't it? Gabriel pretty much jump scared him. He didn't just turn around and jog back to Aziraphale to ask him about the sword, he purposefully moved himself up to him without any warning. Like sheesh, talk about terrifying bosses.

No Gabriel here, but just another example of how much Aziraphale does NOT like being in Heaven. When he gets discorporated and finally manages to stand up for himself, saying he refuses to fight a war, he still looks like *this*. Like he's one step away from just discorporating a second time and without an actual body out of sheer anxiety.

When all it's said and done at the Tadfield airbase and the four horsemen are gone, Gabriel and Beelzebub decide to go check what the heck is going on, at which point Aziraphale pretty much seems to be bracing himself, straightening his back, adjusting his clothes nervously and then holding his hand in front of him in a show of dignified quietness I definitely read as him doing his best to hide just how anxious he truly is.

Of course we don't see Aziraphale's reaction at being told to shut his stupid mouth and die already by Gabriel due to the body swap, and at this point is pretty safe to say Crowley has never shared with Aziraphale that little tidbit of information, but even not knowing the extent of the cruelty Gabriel showed toward him at the end, he still knows that Gabriel and, by extension, Heaven was more than willing and ready to murder him.

Even at the start of S2, when an amnesiac Gabriel arrives at the bookshop and then hugs him (awkwaaaard), Aziraphale looks like he's entirely frozen and unable to react to the improbability of what is happening, and when Gabriel asks him if he can go inside the bookshop Aziraphale's immediate reaction is to pretty much recoil with an immediate "No!".

Of course he is then forced to let him in because there's a naked man on his steps while the whole neighborhood is watching, and we get some many more little moments of Aziraphale anxiety emerging through his body language: The pacing, the way he sits ramrod straight in front of Gabriel, and him literally backing away multiple steps when Gabriel asks him "You know how it's like, when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything will be better if you were just near one particular person?"

(Because of course Aziraphale knows how that feels, and that's exactly the same reason why he's been so scared of Heaven for-fucking-ever!) (Also as an aside let me just bless Michael 'Acting Choices' Sheen for that smile that lasts a shard of a second after Gabriel asks that. You can pretty much see the word "CROWLEY" stamped in big bold letters on his forehead in that moment lmao)

(Also as an aside to the aside. Jon Hamm is just fantastic. Gabriel comes across as such an asshole in S1, but Amnesiac!Gabriel is a fucking cinnamon roll and he pulls it off so well ajahjahja)

Then of course we get the whole exchange about the 'something terrible' that sends Aziraphale into more anxious frenzy until another tiny, kinda overlooked moment hits us in the shins, in which Gabriel says "You're funny. I love you." And like, can't blame anybody for not looking at that moment without much thought, I know that that sentence had me crying laughing multiple times on multiple rewatches, but also... God, you can see the way some of that fear instantly leaves Aziraphale, the way he relaxes ever so slightly and ??? Aziraphale??? Is that all you need to instantly start trusting someone who wanted you dead? Who treated you like shit for who knows how long? (Why am I even asking this, of course that'd be enough, it's Aziraphale we're talking about, here.) Then of course the rest of season 2, he and Crowley having a row about what to do with Gabriel with Aziraphale insisting that he needs them, as his friends, yada yada, we get back to the initial moment that sparked this post.

We get there, Aziraphale's (eldritch) Ball and the romantic moment he's been working himself up for ruined, murderous Demons at his steps putting both he and all the humans inside in peril, and all he would need to do to avoid any harm coming to them is to give Gabriel up, and... "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will." Not just the words, but the way Aziraphale says them; voice lowered and serious, that hint of hesitation and fear at the start that melts away into full blown confidence at the 'And I will'.

It isn't just Aziraphale being scared by Gabriel mentioning the 'something terrible' at the beginning, nor the brief moments of cryptic recollection that he witnesses Gabriel going through-- It's that Aziraphale sincerely accepted to protect him, and he wasn't going to give that up. He is a Guardian and a Principality, after all.

And like, I see this and how am I supposed not to get my heart utterly shattered by it? If Aziraphale had rejected Gabriel, or treated him unkindly in any way, I hardly doubt anybody would be hard pressed to say Aziraphale did not have the right to do so, not after the way he's been treated by Gabriel and Heaven his whole life. But he doesn't. He is kind to him, if a tad long-suffering at times. The protection he extended over Gabriel is utterly sincere and unwavering.

And ngggggggh I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just. Love Aziraphale so much. Stupid, clever, anxious, brave man-shaped thing that he is, recklessly throwing himself into the line of fire for somebody that, by any means, did not have any right to ask something of that magnitude from him. He is my scrungly, and by God am I ever so excited to see how everything will play out in season 3. I want him to fully grasp that bravery and raise absolute -metaphorical- hell with it. Shine bright, you crazy bastard.

[currymanganese]

Does Carmy want his own family?

I've started re-watching the series and only just noticed the name of the restaurant Carmy worked at when he won the James Beard Rising Star Chef Award in 2018, 'Fairest Creatures'.

The restaurant doesn't appear to be an establishment that exists IRL, unlike some of the other places that Carmy and Sydney have worked at before, and the name appears to be a reference to Shakespeare's Sonnet 1, the first in his series of Procreation Sonnets which urge a beautiful young man to marry and have children so that his legacy can live on. The sonnet begins by saying,

From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease His tender heir might bear his memory:

While Carmy has never overtly expressed the desire to marry and have children, this is an interesting name for Storer and co. to select to attach this highlight of Carmy's career and backstory to, right from the start of the series in the pilot episode. Other allusions to Carmy's desire to have a partner and possibly a child come later on in his Al-anon monologue in Braciole where he laments the fact that he never had a girlfriend...

And when Richie essentially asks him in the season two pilot, "If this [the restaurant] isn't fun for you, what is?" to which Carmy replied, "I have to get back to you on that..." before he stares at family photos Richie has spread out on the table in the basement, particularly these photos of Tiffany presumably holding her and Richie's daughter, Eva, as a baby.

However, the final reference to Carmy's possible desire for a family of his own came during his war of words with Richie in the season two finale. Carmy took a potshot at Richie, "[Without me] You wouldn't be able to pay for your fucking kid-" and Richie retorted, "At least I got a kid! You don't have shit!"

I'm curious to see if they'lll end up voiding Richie's words by having Carmy become a 'family man' with Syd by the end of the series.

[astrocaramelb0y]

Three Episodes into Good Omens, I have picked up:

Aziraphale has a very cool Bookshop✅

Crowley has bright yellow snake eyes and a tattoo next to his ear. Dont know how I didnt notice till now

Gabriel & Sandalphon coming in and asking for pornography = most angels that dont spend as much time on earth as Aziraphale does, don't seem to have much idea on how humans work

Sandalphon turned people into salt?

The four horsemen are coming

Hastur's eyes are terrifyingly pitch black, you cant really tell where he's looking

The Summoner is just some poor postman doing his very best

War has a sword

A Witchfinder called "Thou shalt not commit adultery Pulsifier"

Agnes Nutter. Nut-ter. I am more immature than I thought. A witch whose advice outshines that of today's fitness influencers, wrote a book of all her prophecies

SHE HAD EXPLOSIVES IN HER DRESS OH GOD

Witchfinder's descedant, Newton, extremely unlucky with PCs, finds a new job as Witchfinder

Agnes' descendant moves to Tadfield

Crowley has plants that are scared of him. They're shaking in fear and I am, too

Crowley drives irresponsibly

Adam has a silly friend group

Crowley and Aziraphale's friendship kind of seems more than platonic. Idk something about the way they look at eachother sometimes

Paintball

KISS SCENE?

Nevermind the nurse interrupted

The witch gets hit by Crowley's car

She forgot her Book

Aziraphale reads the prophecy book, finds phone mumber of Adam's family

A&C were there for basically every important historic event watching it together, sometimes helping eachother

Crowley wants Holy Water???

Secret Book Trade with very very Bad people

Bomb dropped on church

Crowley saves Aziraphales' precious books. Idk guys they seem like a couple to me

Aziraphale gives him the Holy Water he wanted

Adam's Aura is huge and also a rainbow

The Witchfinder General is a liar

Famine loves luxury restaurants, and owns some

Chow, food that doesnt have any food in it

Crowley and Aziraphale break up??I If they ever were together? Or friends

Adam made a Nuclear reactor disappear

The ending music changes every Episode, still funky though 🎶

[esmedelacroix]

24 days til' Christmas

going dancing with boyfriend!choi san on christmas eve⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

----------------------------------------------------------------------

One of the downsides of dating a K-pop idol was that there was no privacy whatsoever. Which would result in yet another Christmas Eve at home, probably watching movies. Any moment spent with San was happy, but it was Christmas for Christ's sake!

What must a girl do to go on a simple date with her famous boyfriend? you thought to yourself.

You were making some shrimp jjigae (Korean stew) for San. San was arriving at the Incheon Airport that evening after the last leg of his tour. You were excited he would be home right in time for the holidays. It was still upsetting that the two of you couldn't go on a date on Christmas Eve like you usually did.

He had gained a ton of popularity after his comeback, the two of you were spotted at an Italian restaurant and it was all over the internet after 30 minutes. In just 10 minutes the whole internet knew what the two of you were eating, drinking, and wearing.

San's company didn't have rules against dating, but the two of you decided not to be obnoxiously public about your relationship. He talked about you in interviews and attended red carpets with you occasionally but that was all the two of you were comfortable with.

On your way to the airport, San's song came on the radio. You had your sister take a video of the two of you singing along to his song so she could send it to him.

San and the guys would be arriving at a private gate. Hopefully this time the fans didn't find out somehow. You waited there anxiously for him, looking around for any fangirls in the area every two seconds. Finally, you say your handsome boyfriend steps out immediately looking around for you. You were already running towards him and the second you entered his view, he abandoned his suitcase and ran to you spreading his arms out to you.

The scene was right out of a cheesy film. Hongjoong practically died from cringe but deep down he was so happy that his Sannie had someone he loved to come home to. Wooyoung being Wooyoung was videotaping the entire moment.

"Yeobo[Sweetheart], I've missed you so much," San said as he held you tight.

"I've missed you more," you sighed as you looked up into his eyes running your fingers through his hair.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Because no lovey-dovey moment lasts forever, the two of you heard the clicks of cameras along with the footsteps and screams of an atiny stampede.

San quickly took your hand and ran through the airport with the boys and their bodyguards following you behind. The two of you couldn't contain the giggles from the adrenaline rush running from fans like you were elementary school kids playing tag at recess.

Once you got away, you went to dinner with the guys and listened to their tales from tours. Including lots of pranks from Jongho and Mingi, and lots of scolding for San and Wooyoung from Hongjoong.

After dinner, you gave the boys their Christmas gifts since you would be with San in his hometown that day. You told them to open their gifts when they were at the dorm knowing that you would be awaiting a particular text from Seonghwa about how thankful he is that you got your hand on the "Ahsoka Tano's T-6 Jedi Shuttle" Lego Star Wars set.

San would be sleeping over your place before the two of you went to his hometown. After the two of you finished watching the newest episode of Single's Inferno, you thought it would be worth a shot to ask San what he would think about going to a Live Jazz club with you for Christmas Eve.

To the inquiry, as expected he answered "I don't think so," which was his nicer way of saying, "No we're going to get caught.

Even when you told him that your sister would be playing saxophone there and that you wanted to support her and the two of you could watch from backstage he was still very hesitant.

You knew that there would be a slim chance that San would agree with you, and you noticed a glint of guilt in his eyes when he said no to you.

To San, you were his kryptonite, he was physically unable to say no. to you without wanting to gauge his heart out of his chest. You went to bed with a bit of a heavy heart after overthinking in the shower and realizing that your relationship with San would never be normal.

. . .

The morning was perfect. San had made you breakfast in bed without burning down the entire kitchen. San was a great cook, but he was also a very messy one at that.

That afternoon the two of you wrapped up gifts for San’s family and baked gingerbread cookies while cozying up together and sipping hot chocolate and eggnog. It was perfect, festive, and domestic. But San knew that you were still thinking about the Jazz club occasionally texting your sister throughout the day to ease her nerves.

"Jagiya[baby], we are going to have to go somewhere really quickly," San started as he entered the living room putting your cost on.

"But San, it's a little late. I promised my sis I'd watch the live stream of her performance," you answered.

"I know and I'm sorry but there is an emergency formal meeting at the company and I don't want to leave you home alone, I know how much you like to get ready anyway," he explained walking over to you, ushering you to get up.

You gave him an irritated glare before springing up and squealing, "You know me too well babe,"

You got up and gave him. smooch on the cheek. You didn't care if it was a formal meeting. San could see how bored you were of watching the same holiday hallmark movies. He also knew how much you loved to dress up.

You did your makeup and wore a red cocktail dress, accessorizing it with a jewelry set you had removed from your brother who was completing his military service. You put on your favorite heels, give yourself a bold bloody red lip, and throw on your favorite trench coat.

San gawks at you for what feels like minutes before checking back into reality and getting up. "You look stunning darling," he said as he pulled you into his side by your waist and kissed you on your cheek.

San had already heated the car and opened the door for you before walking over to his side and getting in. He passed you the aux and you immediately started playing your favorite holiday tunes.

As San drove he began to take unfamiliar turns. He was oddly driving away from the direction of his company. You found this strange but shook it off as nothing.

The two of you sang along to Christmas tunes before he finally pulled into a parking spot. There stood the live jazz club that your sister was performing at. The two of you were right on time. San quickly got out of the car to open the door for you, taking your hand and helping you out of the car. "San what is this?" you chuckled in surprise.

"You know I can't say no to you baby," he replied, taking your hand and leading you into the club where the two of you had great seats. No one could see the two of you since the event seating was arranged in booths and the club was dimly lit.

Everything was perfect and quite discreet. You don't know how hard he had pulled this off. But you knew he had the help of your sister. You could tell she had been lying to you about something lately; you just didn't know what.

It was amazing, the two of you enjoyed music and a great meal. Sis was playing excellently as always until your favorite Christmas song was playing, "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" Other couples had been dancing all night.

San could tell that you wanted to dance to this song with him. You were practically swaying in your seat. He was afraid of the press ruining your date but he simply did not care in the moment when he stood up and held his hand out for you to take.

You looked up at him cracking the brightest smile he had ever seen grace your lips. The two of you swayed slowly to the music. You could feel stares whisper and some flashes but you didn't care. You were too focused on each other.

You were too focused on the feeling of love and excitement enveloping the two of you as you spun. There were already articles and posts up but when the two of you got home you were too infatuated with each other to glance at your phones. The two of you slept peacefully that night as Santa dropped your gifts off and feasted on the milk and cookies you had left out for him.

taglist: @aripet22

[mars-and-the-theoi]

Low energy Devotional Acts for when you don’t have a lot of energy (or time, or money, etc.) pt. 5

🗡️Phobos & Deimos🗡️

- watch a horror movie

- watch war movies

- watch documentaries or do a Wikipedia deep dive on various wars and battles

- look up the difference between terror and horror

- watch Halloween movies (doesn’t necessarily have to be scary) or Halloween episodes of tv shows

- look up types of self defense

- learn about the role of charioteers (they do drive their father’s chariot after all!)

- listen to a devotional playlist for Them

- watch combat sports (boxing, wrestling, etc.)

- listen to horror movie soundtracks

- listen to Halloween or ‘scary’ soundscapes

🐚Aphrodite🐚

- light your favorite candle, put on your favorite lotion or perfume, put on your favorite piece of jewelry, your favorite article of clothing something small that just boosts your spirits!

- enjoy a sweet treat

- watch a romcom

- watch a regular romantic movie or show or read (or listen to audiobooks are very much valid) your favorite romantic story

- if you’re in a relationship maybe text/call or talk to your partner(s) for a bit maybe even make some plans to do something together for when the opportunity arises

- if you’re not in a relationship maybe text/call or talk to a good friend (online or irl friend!) or a close family member that you have a good relationship with! Maybe even make some plans with them!

- if you’re maybe a bit more introverted or don’t have anyone irl that you’re super close with, that’s okay! Make a plan for yourself! Maybe there’s a restaurant you’ve been curious about, or maybe a new park opened up near you, etc. it can be anything. Treat yourself to something you enjoy!

- if you have a pet and they like to snuggle, snuggle or lay with them. Talk to them and tell them how much you love them. If able take them for a walk or a ride.

- listen to ocean/sea soundscapes

- read up on all the many kinds of love

- engage in an act of self-care for me it’s enjoying a cup of my favorite tea but it can be whatever is most meaningful and/or viable for you

- listen to love songs

- listen to a devotional playlist for Her

- make a Pinterest board of all your favorite things and things that you love! Your favorite band, favorite flowers, etc. doesn’t matter what it is

- learn about the different kinds of love

- do things that boost your self esteem (even if only temporarily, I know how tricky this can be)

- be gentle with yourself! Slow down, take it easy, etc.

- watch a ballet

- read love poems (or try to write your own no matter how cheesy it may be! It’s always fun to try)

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Don't you think it's funny cause actual canon gay characters in BL manga will say "I love you" but only the shounen bromance can spew out some of the most romantic shit akin to a 19th century poet writing a letter expressing his surpressed love for his lover 😭.....

Genuniely can't tell if it's bait or not, but I'm going to treat this ask seriously anyway.

Here, have some examples of beautiful and poetic expressions of love in BL media!

I'm going to start with my favourite murder husbands, Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu from Word of Honor/Faraway Wanderers!

This happens in episode nine, less than one third into the story- it's that early, they've known each other for like a week and are already able to tell they're meant to be. They've made their decision to be together, and over the course of the story:

They defend each other multiple times and fight side by side in multiple episodes, sometimes protecting their adopted kid/mentee Chengling as well

Zhou Zishu is willing to go against the whole martial arts society for his boyfriend. With zero hesistation, might I add.

They both know the other has done horrible things (lots of murder on both sides here) and that's not only okay, it's a big part of why they're soulmates and get each other so well!

Zhou Zishu is slowly dying (poisoned nails in his chest, long story) and Wen Kexing can and will risk his life to save him. Don't worry, they get a happy ending both in the show and the novel even if the show's last episode is behind a paywall and Netflix didn't even include it for some reason?

But enough about them, let's move on to the immortal fantasy genre boyfriends Hua Cheng and Xie Lian from Heaven Official's Blessing!

Please note how Hua Cheng is ready to accept Xie Lian in whatever state he's currently in- as a god, a fallen outcast, even grieving and angry and at his absolute lowest. He's stood by Xie Lian in his worst moments, even if at the time Xie Lian had no idea it was him.

Hua Cheng has loved Xie Lian for 800 years, ever since he was a boy Xie Lian saved from falling to his death during a procession.

Xie Lian became a god, then fell due to horrible circumstances, almost committed a war crime against another nation that destroyed his country, spend 800 years wandering the mortal realm as a poor cultivator with his powers greatly reduced, and eventually ascended to become a god again. Throughout it all, Hua Cheng loved him and did his best to help him and then find him.

They're both adorable and the definition of a power couple once they're reunited- no spoilers, but they eventually fight an incredibly powerful god side by side and win & the last scene in the story is them reuniting for good since there's no more obstacles to their immortal love.

Let's move on to my favourite Japanese BL, Our Dining Table (also available as a series that came out semi-recently, but the examples below are from the manga.)

Yutaka is a lonely salesman who meets Minoru, a restaurant worker and his much younger brother Tane grieving the death of their mother.

Yutaka and Minoru hit it off by bonding through food they cook and share. The series is incredibly heartwarming, and as seen above Yutaka becomes a much happier person thanks to both his new relationship and big brother-like bond with little Tane.

As a little bonus, the whole found family together!

This post can't be complete without Golden Stage (or Golden Terrace, as the English official translation calls it).

Fu Shen and Yan Xiaohan aren't even in love at this point! This is at the beginning of the story, when their marriage has just been arranged by the emperor and they're still bitter rivals.

Yan Xiaohan is already protective of his future husband- later on, he also builds him a mansion meant to accommodate his disability (nerve damage in both legs, which requires a wheelchair and/or crutches). They're both incredibly powerful military generals, and the emperor was an idiot thinking an arranged marriage would humiliate them.

Of course they fall in love, of course they're a power couple, of course they send each other letters through trained geese when they're separated during the war, of course they run to each other as fast as they can across a wide cold river when they're finally reunited! Of course they're important to me!

....Aaand how about some Wangxian to wrap up this post? They need no introduction, an absolutely wonderful and complex relationship in a complex fantasy/intrigue story available in several forms - the books, the animated series (as seen above), the live action series, the audio drama, there's so much!

Some of their most beautiful moments:

Lan Wangji writing a song for Wei Wuxian and naming it Wangxian. Years after it's composed, Wei Wuxian plays it and LWJ is able to recognise him even in a different body.

LWJ begs WWX to come with him to Cloud Recesses, to safety, after WWX makes himself an enemy of the whole cultivation world for protecting innocent people.

They confront the final villain together, and work together to expose his crimes. This is also when their final love confession happens, and it's hilarious- in front of everyone's salad, WWX declares he also wanted to sleep with LWJ.

Despite censorship, the animated series was still able to allude to their wedding, showing them in red wedding robes (unfortunately can't find a gif rn)

Respectfully, if you genuinely think BL doesn't have beautiful love confessions and displays of romance, you need to find better BL.

[greythemed]

𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ bloodhounds . kim gun-woo

˚ TITLE 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ how is like to date gun-woo part two ˚ WORD COUNT 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ 1770

dating gun-woo consists of you being a lightweight while he has the best alcohol tolerance in the group, consequently making him your babysitter for the rest of the night no matter how much he drinks (this man's tolerance is no joke, we saw it on episode seven).

he IS the type of boyfriend who spoils you like there is no tomorrow. gun-woo is so detached when it comes to money that soon after winning a pay-per-view match (it was his first one after being officially sponsored by your father!) he was ready to deposit the whole freaking 3 billion wones on your account like that was NORMAL.

"but babe, you don't want it?🥺" he says once he is out of the ring, innocent eyes rising accordingly to your patience. "you can buy whatever makes you happy 'cause i want to see you happy". and you're like "NO GUN-WOO YOU CAN'T SPEND YOUR ENTIRE MONEY ON ME". and he be like. "yes i can????".

honestly we should navigate more of that. gun-woo knows the value of money in this world, he knows that it can change some people's lives. but he never once did something to get money for himself. he was always running and fighting for his mother, her café, her safety and her dreams. so when everything was over and he caught himself with a pile of gold in his hands (he helped his mom and there was still much money left!), he didn't know what to do and how to spend it.

that's when you came through and saved gun-woo's life. because again he has something to spend money with, and someone to spoil.

it doesn't matter if you're rich already (your dad is a ceo and you just became a doctor by yourself!), gun-woo's love language is buying you food whenever he goes out. it is your birthday? expect numerous gifts throughout the entirety of the day. he caught you eyeing something in a store for a little more than 4 seconds? boom! new package arriving at your door the following day.

and that goes even before he became a well-known pro-fighter in korea. when he still was only your cousin's friend that min-beom suspiciously kept by his side during difficult times. he wasn't that big on money, you could tell that, but he still was trying to get your attention by buying different snacks on his way to your home.

HE LOVES HIS PILLOW PRINCESS.

each type of gun-woo's hugs has a different meaning and he is so happy that you caught that in the early stages of your relationship. this six feet tall man is hugging you from behind while you're innocently staring at his penthouse's living room's view? that means he's feeling vulnerable and in need of some of your love.

when you feel his arms enveloping your waist and his lips leaving a kiss on your ear? you already know he is feeling excited enough to express his love for you in many different ways.

gun-woo is a loveable person at the end of the day. he needs some validation from time to time and will get clingy if you don't express your feelings for a while. that causes some agitation in your relationship, including arguments about the different love languages both of you have.

sometimes, you think gun-woo is too honest about certain things. the fact that he wears his heart on his sleeve while being a war trunk makes him incredibly dangerous. how do you expect to act around your gorgeous boyfriend while he is a softie on the inside and you know it? you have no option left but to act like a slut.

he points that out someday when you are both alone. "baby, are you okay? you are staring weirdly at me for the past 30 minutes and i'm getting worried".

and you cannot react, otherwise, you'd be ruining your family dinner and jumping that man's bones in the middle of the fancy restaurant while everyone's watching.

even when he is in desperate need of some affection, he doesn't want to disturb you. he doesn't know how this works in the long run, after all. he doesn't feel confident enough to say that out loud. that he needs you at that moment. so you'll have to get pretty good at reading his signs, especially his eyes.

woo-jin's knowledge comes in handy in times like these.

like the first time you met his mother (you were his first ever girlfriend, so he wanted her to like you too!) and he was staring at her the entire afternoon at the café with so much anxiety coming out of him that you had to drag him to the bathroom so he could calm down.

he had the habit of clenching his jaw when he was anxious. "it's okay, baby, i'm gonna be fine, i'm sure she is lovely". you tried to reason with the boxer, constantly having to cup his jaw so he could relax. "i'm sorry, i'm just apprehensive". he replied with those puppy eyes that you'd immediately pout for.

everything went smoothly with his mother and she even made a special dish for you that day! but the second you're alone in your room that night you call woo-jin and ask for some advice on how to deal with your boyfriend's anxieties because who else would know about that other than his marine best friend?!

i'm not done talking about this man's alcohol tolerance because is SO FUCKING SEXY AND FOR WHAT?! i swear on that scene in episode seven, my eyes were glued on the screen every time he took a sip like sir please be my boyfriend????

and even woo-jin was surprised it was so funny to me.

so expect your first club night outs (honestly, gun-woo just came because you asked him nicely) to be completely HORROR for the boxers. the second you started drinking, woo-jin and gun-woo didn't take their eyes off you because they KNOW how YOUR alcohol tolerance is almost non-existent but still you want to have a good time.

like "NO Y/N YOU SHOULDN'T PISS ON A BURNING TO TAKE THE FIRE DOWN BC ITS EASIER". and woo-jin would be SO done with you all the time, glaring at gun-woo every time you said something stupid. he'd be like "this is your phd doctor girlfriend???". and send a dirty look to his best friend.

and on the rare occasions where you don't feel like drinking you can't help but stare intensively at gun-woo's adam's apple bobbing every time he takes a sip from the soju bottle woo-jin challenged him to take (it was indeed a rare occasion) because WHY WAS HE SO HOT?!

and then finishing with the most polite smile and the glossiest eyes you've ever seen like IT WAS NOTHING?!?!?

he looked at you asking what was wrong and you would turn nonverbal for the next 30 seconds before kissing him in front of the bar AND WOO-JIN

nsfw under 😳😳😳

hear. me. out.

at first, gun-woo wasn't the most speaker in bed because - let's be honest - the boy is timid. but the second he sees your reaction when he accidentally lets a whimper slip from his mouth one day, a whole key is turned inside the boxer's brain.

when you're riding him, he entwines your fingers with his, placing kisses on your wrist, your palm or wherever possible and just breathing "you're going to make me lose my goddamn mind, fuck".

you get high from watching him orgasm and vice-versa.

when he comes back up from between your thighs for a breather, for example, his eyes notice your clutched hands at your sides, nails digging into your palm - because he pays attention to every little detail you let it slide, you already know that - and he wasn't having it. leaning down to continue from where he left off, he takes your hands in his and places them on his head, a gesture telling you to just pull his hair already.

this man is timid but he's also a romantic. when i tell you gun-woo needs confirmation from you whenever you are together, i mean at sexy times as well. the moment you start to feel too level-headed and too euphoric and close your eyes, he is fast to turn your attention to his voice so he could guide you.

"no, no look at me baby—keep 'em open. need you to see me, ye?". he grunts and your eyes flicker open once again, obediently following his rules, giving him the eye contact he so desperately craves.

there is a thing we need to talk about gun-woo sizing you up for the first time.

when the realization dawns on you, your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. gun-woo was sliding his length past your clit and up your stomach so far that his balls press against your core. he said it was for 'safety purposes' when you caught him doing it, embarrassment evident on his flaming cheeks and stuttering mouth.

but the second time he does it? you were feral, almost coming right then and there. essentially, he was trying to see just how far in he was going to be, just how deep he was going to fuck you and you clenched so hard around nothing that you had to slap him to stop.

"you can't just do this, gun-woo!". you wanted to curse. "s-sorry", he was caught again, but now not a single drop of shame adorning his features. by the looks of it, he was smirking.

cursing? let's talk about that.

you knew you dated an angel so to speak. but the whole angelic persona gun-woo carried on his daily basis was left at the door when he was alone with you. cursing? he did on rare occasions, maybe when woo-jin went too far with a joke about his mother or when he pressed his little finger on the car door while rushing to the gym.

but never with you.

so imagine your surprise when the first string of 'fucks' slipped past this man's lips when he entered you for the very first time. and then the constant self-control he needs to collect when you are too far in orgasmland and whisper dirty things in his ears.

"feel too full woo", you moan absentmindedly and gun-woo lets out a heavy breath, dropping his head down so your foreheads can touch.

"god—fuck—you can't say shit like that, princess". he warns.

i began to pass out and my head hit the wall boom!

i am not proud of this one (sorry for any misspellings, this is not proofread!) and i'm sorry for ending this here hahahahahah leaving y'all dry and wanting because that's what life is about!!! (suffering) THANK YOU ALL FOR THE KIND WORDS YOU GUYS ARE THE LOVELIEST <33

[yahoo201027]

Day in Fandom History: July 25…

When Steven orders mozzarella sticks from the fries shop, it reignites a long-time feud between the Frymans and the Pizzas and competes who’s better and Steven wants to put an end to the feud. “Restaurant Wars” premiered on this day, 7 Years Ago.

[midmaysunray]

Hello there, it’s me Momo🩷

(Also, this is a shit posting blog, might wanna check out @shunrehihosumedha )

Here’s a little description of things I love and envy

I’m from the Indian subcontinent.

Spent my entire childhood between mountains and valleys. For a change shifted to Delhi which I regret tremendously.

I love farming, gardening, stitching clothes, crocheting, writing poems and maintaining a journal.

I enjoy long walks and bicycle rides.

I prefer going to a bookstore or a restaurant all by myself. I love self-dates.

I want to settle someday at an unknown meadow with mountains and lakes at a cottage core house, with big windows and minimalistic furniture with a wooden chimney, a library with some cats and the man I love.

I’m a student, fortunately academically gifted/blessed.

I did my undergrad from Indraprastha college for women under the university of Delhi in the discipline of geography Hons. Currently pursuing my masters from Jamia Millia Islamia.

I love movies; and my favourite genre is dystopian reality. So far I have watched 750+ movies which include almost every linguistic diversity as I strongly believe in the adherence of, “you can’t find gold unless you dig the dirt.”

I love reading books, like a lot. I can speak 5 different languages and out of them, 3 languages are engraved within my system. Starting from Greek Literature Iliad by Homer to metaphysics by aristotle; reading short stories of Rabindranath Tagore in Bengali as well as reciting Gazals of Gulzar in Hindi itself, I believe I have defined base in my own culture as well as to others. Again, when it comes to dystopian, I envy reading The Hunger Games and The Maze Runners. Do Androids dream of electric sheep? Comes under my top 5 dystopian reads; as this book was later adopted into a world class movie franchise called The Blade Runner. I lean towards Harry Potter more than The Lord of the Rings. I have read A song of ice and fire which people are so batshit crazy about and famously known as the “Game of thrones.” I didn’t watch a single episode but I know more than any fan I believe.

If you intervene and ask, then yeah you can think of me as a “nerd” hehehe because my preference and taste of things leans towards being more of geek tbh🩷🩷

I also enjoy watching animated series/anime and sit coms. I’m a sucker for The Big Bang Theory and Young Sheldon and will rewatch them for an eternity if asked. My favourite anime is Gintama but the list is peculiar and long as I have been watching anime/reading manga since I was 9 years old. My first anime was Dragon Ball z and Pokémon. I also watched Doraemon and Shinchan series/movies. The list goes on when it comes to entertainment but mine is more restricted than common which people watch out of peer pressure. Below are some examples for understanding my taste and likings.

My favourite dystopian movies are (Top 20)

1. Shutter Island.

2. Interstellar

3. The Dark knight

4. The Dark knight Rises

5. Captain America: the winter soldier

6. Rouge one: a star war’s story

7. Tron legacy

8. Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban

9. The Hobbit: the desolation of Smaug

10. Star Trek Enterprise

11. Star Wars: the empire strikes back

12. Blade runner

13. Blade runner 2049

14. Dune

15. V for vendetta

16. Maze runner

17. The Hunger Games

18. Oblivion

19. The Truman show

20. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

Top 15 Anime

1. Gintama

2. Neon Genesis Evangelion

3. Berserk

4. Mob psycho

5. Steins Gate

6. Violet evergarden

7. Monster

8. Parasyte

9. Heavenly delusion

10. Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

11. Full Metal Alchemist

12, That time when I got reincarnated as a slime

13. Campfire cooking in another world with my absurd cooking skills

14. Barakamon

15. Bunny Drop

Top 10 Anime Movies

1. Princess Mononoke by Studio Ghibli

2. Up from the poppy hill by Studio Ghibli

3. My neighbor Totoro by Studio Ghibli

4. The End of Evangelion by Hideaki Anno

5. Spirited Away by Studio Ghibli

6. Perfect blue by Satosi Kon

7. Akira by Katsuhiro Otomo

8. Ghost in the Shell by Mamoru Oshii

9. Violet evergarden: the movie by Taichi Ishidate

10. Doraemon: Nobita’s new dinosaur by Kazuaki Imai, Toshihisa Yokoshima, in collaboration with Kyoto animation studio Wasabi Mizuta, Megumi Ohara, Shihoko Hagino.

I know it may seem boring and I usually don’t find people with such diversity, but it would be good to be a part of this community. I envy people who respects art and literature of every culture and not demeaning them.

[pikahlua]

I've been in the dkbk fandom for 3 years and my husband is an anime only. We just watched the new episode and he was disappointed. He predicted that Star will die and the plot won't really move forward. He's a sci-fi fan and he's seen many a series fall apart after more characters, complexity, and a war are introduced. I've been avoiding spoling the manga for him but since he's lost interest, I spoiled him and confirmed that the manga has been in a holding pattern for 2-3 years with this final arc. I told him what you said about Bk's death and Deku losing his arms as being symbolic but he said those actions being reversed lowers the stakes and it's hard to maintain emotional investment if you know that major plot points will just get reversed. I wanna believe in Hori but I'm waiting for payoff instead of enjoying the story. Is what's happening really good storytelling if this final battle has been dragging on so long and Deku's characterization has come to a halt?

I’m hesitant to answer this. I said I wouldn't answer any asks that were looking to me for reasons to keep liking MHA, and I really don't want to encourage more asks like this--and yes OP, I don't know if you realize it but that's basically what you're asking. You've framed this question around your husband's opinions, but you're couching your own thoughts inside.

If your issue is that you and your husband like different media, then that's a marital issue to resolve; accept that you shouldn't always watch all media together, particularly if doing so isn't fun for both of you. But your husband doesn't like what's going on in MHA, and this is enough to make you doubt whether or not MHA is written well? Despite the fact that many, many people like MHA in its current form? That sounds more to me like you agree with your husband. It certainly doesn't sound like you tried to sell this story arc to him.

I decided I'll answer a question like this this one time because it'll help me summarize my feelings on these topics, though I'm sorry to say the topics I address may not be what you expect.

"We just watched the new episode and he was disappointed. He predicted that Star will die and the plot won't really move forward."

Is this really a surprise? I don't remember anyone being all that into this arc when it first came out. Everyone was saying Star would die, and yet most people did not correctly predict the actual outcome of this fight--that Star's quirk would be eliminated and Tomura would be weakened. Most guessed Tomura would steal Star's quirk and become overpowered.

"He's a sci-fi fan and he's seen many a series fall apart after more characters, complexity, and a war are introduced."

You mention sci-fi but uh, has your husband watched like...any other anime? Ever? At all? MHA is far from the first shounen anime to do this. You can't really make your husband like MHA if his problem is that he came to an anime restaurant and got upset when there was nothing but anime on the menu.

Seriously, MHA is not doing all that much different with its ending than what Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood did, and that's one of the most critically acclaimed shounen anime of all time. If he's predisposed to dislike the stuff anime does, that's not a writing problem. That's a mismatch of anime with his tastes.

It strikes a nerve with me because I grew up loving anime and was bullied for it by people with opinions such as your husband's. Now, the mainstream-ification of anime has drawn those same sorts of people to anime for whatever reason, and all they seem to wanna do is complain about anime being anime. Take sci-fi for example: I typically hate outerspace-themed media and the concepts such media often explore, and you know what I do? Not watch it. I've decided such media is not for me. Honestly, the same is true for a lot of anime too. I am very picky about anime because there are some tropes or themes I'm just sick of.

"I've been avoiding spoling the manga for him but since he's lost interest, I spoiled him and confirmed that the manga has been in a holding pattern for 2-3 years with this final arc."

This is where it sounds like you primed him with your own feelings, because it certainly doesn't sound like you were selling him. I don't even know what this means. "A holding pattern"? Do you mean the arc has just been going on a long time (see: welcome to anime being anime)? Or do you mean not much has happened with Izuku? Because I am getting a bit of a sense that your issue is you're an Izuku fan and his growth has been slow because the arc has had to wrap up all the other characters' arcs first. Because a lot HAS been happening with all the other characters (and we recently got some Izuku progression too).

The only other thing I can think of is an opinion I've had for a long time. I think a lot of anime fans don't realize they're not actually manga people. You watch an anime you like a lot and you wanna get up to speed, so you go to the manga not understanding that the manga is different from the anime. The pacing is different, as is the presentation and focus on details. The manga presents one or two story points per chapter, whereas anime episodes are 2-3 chapters compressed into one sitting. The anime's major selling point is its fast pacing, but this is not a selling point of the manga--of ANY weekly manga. "2-3 years" means very little in the context of a 15-page-a-week-AT-BEST manga.

"I told him what you said about Bk's death and Deku losing his arms as being symbolic"

The symbolism angle is one thing. I've never really understood why people like any media without symbolism--that's what gives a story its flavor, isn't it? If we're talking about tropes and familiar story structures, the artist's approach to familiar items is precisely what makes it unique and interesting to me. I wouldn't become invested enough to care about Katsuki's death if all that mattered to me was the surface-level event.

But are you saying you spoiled the fact that Izuku lost his arms? That's...not that big of a plot point to spoil if you ask me. Certainly not one I'd bring up as one of the greatest hits of this arc. This is another detail that makes me feel like you're particularly focused on Izuku, which is not a bad thing nor is there anything wrong with that, but Izuku doesn't actually feature very much in this anime season all things considered. It's hard to sell anyone on what's currently happening with Izuku in the manga since we just got to his stuff and it's not complete.

Again, this was what happened with Fullmetal Alchemist. The last arc covered the events of one day that ended the final war. The main characters were only occasionally featured and didn't do all that much in the season until the very end, as one would expect. When it was coming out in manga form, the pacing was admittedly very weird because of this storytelling choice, albeit it felt a bit different from MHA since it was a monthly manga and covered more ground per chapter. But when the same arc was adapted to anime, the feeling and pacing were very different, and a lot of iffy elements improved on me as a result.

"he said those actions being reversed lowers the stakes and it's hard to maintain emotional investment if you know that major plot points will just get reversed."

Is your husband someone who watches things only once and then can't rewatch and enjoy them ever again? Does he only watch stories for plot twists and once he knows the twist he stops liking it?

I don't understand this general obsession with consequences and stakes a lot of people have. Sure, they are elements that can contribute to a mood or feeling in a story, but they're far from the make-or-break linchpins so many people make them out to be. The "reversals" are major plot points too. I find much more enjoyment in trying to follow why a writer would do such things and what they're trying to say than wondering how likely some character is to die or how many people will be brutalized.

I'm in the camp that believes spoilers should not make a difference in whether or not I find a series "good" or whether or not I can invest in it. I personally have played video games specifically BECAUSE they were spoiled for me and it sounded like I would like them, and having those major things spoiled for me did not detract from my enjoyment at all. I'm not saying everyone has to be like me, but I do certainly think a story's ability to persist as an impactful and memorable work has very little to do with its stakes and everything to do with how it handles its story and characters. Was Star Wars memorable and beloved because of how many people were at risk of dying in it? Was something taken away from the story when Luke got a robotic replacement for the hand he lost?

Goodness, didn't the MHA fandom predict for years that Dabi was Touya Todoroki? And wasn't everyone just waiting for the reveal to fucking happen already so we could get it over with? And wasn't the entire fandom surprised and enthralled when the Touya reveal did happen precisely because it was handled in such a unique and cool way with Horikoshi's flair? Did predicting that twist really ruin anything for the story?

A good story is a good story.

"I'm waiting for payoff instead of enjoying the story."

I can't know what payoff you're waiting for. I've enjoyed all the events and details along the way, even if there were some expected dips here and there. When I went back and reread the entire arc in one go, the pacing really hit me differently and I got a lot out of it. If you're not enjoying the story, that's not about whether or not the story is employing "good storytelling." I've enjoyed plenty of stories that were told poorly and sloppily because there were other redeeming features that appealed to me. This is about preference. You and your husband have your own personal preferences, and that's okay! But you both have to manage your preferences with respect to each other and to yourselves.

"Is what's happening really good storytelling if this final battle has been dragging on so long and Deku's characterization has come to a halt?"

If you're actually interested in whether or not MHA has "good storytelling," I'd suggest you take a creative writing class or otherwise learn about the way stories are told in different media i.e. novels vs comics vs TV shows vs movies vs video games. But I honestly don't think that's what you mean. I think you're looking for permission to keep liking MHA even if you personally don't like its storytelling or how Izuku's character is currently being handled. I can tell you from experience that yeah, you can. Plenty of people do it all the time. Some people get so frustrated with the stories they like they write fix-it fanfiction. Some people appreciate the way a story is so perfectly written that they cannot build a fandom around it because they can't come up with anything to add. It's going to depend on you and how you want to approach the situation, and while I'm happy to talk about what I like about MHA and which writing choices I think are well made, that's not going to get us very far if you don't like the same things.

I do often find media that I personally think is not written that well, and like I said, sometimes I like it and sometimes I hate it, but if it's a piece of media with a large fanbase like MHA, I have a hard time calling its writing universally "bad." If it speaks to that many people in some way, clearly there's something about it that reaches people effectively, and who am I to judge? I'm certainly no expert in quality of writing. All I have are what I've taken away from my education in literature/writing, my years of experience with many anime that came before MHA, and my thoughts on all the other media I've enjoyed. My experiences will lead to different conclusions than others'. I know I don't like a lot of what's popular with most people, so I certainly can't hold myself out as some paragon of good taste.

It's okay to like or dislike whatever for whatever reason. I don't always stay with the same fandom. I move around when I find new and good things. I sometimes come back to old things I loved and like it anew or find it underwhelming as I currently am. As of right now, I'm actually willing to say something I never was before, which is that MHA might be one of the best-written manga if not the best manga I've ever read. While FMA is top-tier, its themes are a lot safer than MHA's ambitious goals. MHA was always going to be controversial in some ways just because of what it attempts to do, such as telling its story through comic book-themed superheroes. It also says a lot of political things that risk alienating readers. The levels of risk MHA takes are part of what makes it amazing to me and what makes it a worthwhile piece of art to enjoy. I'm so happy it exists, flaws and all. No story will be universally loved, and that's something I accepted a long time ago when I decided I wouldn't let the bullying stop me from liking anime. All I can hope to do is have the courage to love the things I love and the grace to leave alone the things I dislike for others to enjoy.

[vodika-vibes]

Helllllooooo ✨ I just found you and your writting is **chefs kiss** it reads so incharacter and there’s a comfortable blend between conversations and thoughts/descriptions. I can picture it so clearly, it’s like I’m reading a mini episode 😄

If requests are still open I really liked the last piece you did with crosshair and the med doctor and was wondering if you could write a sequel to it (doesn’t have to be, it can be its own thing too)?

I just love the idea of crosshair getting into the relationship, trying to keep it a secret and failing. I think he would want it to be secret cause 1) it’s all new to him, he needs to adjust and 2) he can’t let his brothers and omega rub it in that they were right 🤣 But because it’s a secret he now has to find time to be alone with the reader and it’s harder then he thought. Of course it all falls apart when someone catches them kissing probably 💀

Anyway, thankyou for reading my word vomit and for sharing all your writing with us 😄

You'll Be In My Heart

Summary: You and Crosshair are dating now, something you never thought possible before. And, when you end up stuck doing something that you vowed you'd never do again, Crosshair is there to help.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F! Doctor Reader

Word Count: 1165

Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism, heated kissing

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar @Kimiheartblade @padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

A/N: Hi there! I'm so glad that you like my work! Thank you so much for your request, and so you know, barring things like Christmas or medical emergencies, my requests are always open! The story title comes from the song I happen to be listening to when I start writing. Luckily, this time, is sorta kinda almost fits, lol

Click here to be added to my taglist

“You have no idea how grateful we are that you were willing to come out of retirement,” You smile kindly at the older woman who’s holding both of your hands in hers, “Doctor Willis is a good man and a good doctor, make no mistake. But he is old and set in his ways. Some fresh eyes on the island will make life so much better.”

“Well,” You joke lightly, “That’s what I’m here for. And I’m happy to help.”

The older woman pats your hand lightly, “You know, dearie, I have a grandson a little older than you—”

“I’m sure he’s a fine young man, Mrs. Waters.” You interrupt gently, “But I’m still trying to get myself settled here.”

“Oh! Of course, of course!” She pats your hand again, and then stands, “Well, I’ll just run over to the pharmacy and get my new medicine and get on out of your hand, Doc.”

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Waters.”

“You as well, dear.” 

You lean back in your chair as the older woman leaves your office, and you sigh as you press the palms of your hands over your eyes. When you retired, you had no intention of un-retiring.

But when you arrived here and met the doctor and saw how he treated some of his most vulnerable patients…well, you had to do something. Even if that something was unretiring and rejoining a career that drove you to alcoholism before.

There’s a knock on your office door, and you drop your hands away from your face to check your schedule. But before you can pull up your calendar, the door slides open and a familiar man steps into your office.

“Ah, Crosshair.”

“I bring food,” He replies, holding up a bag of food from a local restaurant, “You have time?”

“For you? All the time in the world.” You kick an open chair over to him and watch as he settles in the chair and opens the food bag.

The scent of something delicious wafts towards you, and you release a happy sigh. Knowing Crosshair, he picked up your favorite meal and dessert for you to enjoy.

His gaze drifts from the food over to you as he hands you a container of food, though he doesn’t release it as you try to take it, “You good?” He asks.

You feel a momentary surge of annoyance, that you squash with ease. He would be able to tell that something was bothering you, wouldn’t he? He’s known you for ages after all.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar, kitten.”

“I’m an excellent liar, Cross. You’re just good at reading me.” You lightly tug your food from his grip and set it on your desk so you can open it, “Ooh, pasta!”

“I know your favorite food, kitten,” Crosshair points out as he opens his own container, “I’d better by this point.” He adds with a roll of his eyes, “Anyway, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

Crosshair stares at you, disbelieveingly.

You sigh, and stab a noodle with your fork, “Alright, alright. Stop nagging.” You grumble, “I just…” You sigh and stop your fork, “I never intended to return to medical work, Cross.”

“So quit.”

“I can’t do that. These people won’t have a doctor at all if I quit.” You point out.

Crosshair sighs and lowers his fork, “I remember how bad it was before we left.” He says quietly, “How you were drunk more often than you were sober, how you trembled whenever someone came to you for medical attention—”

“Stop.”

Crosshair pauses, then moves his chair so that his knee is pressed against yours, “Look, kitten.” He pauses, to gather his thoughts, “I love you. And I want you to be happy. And the last thing I want is for you to try to destroy yourself again.”

Your lips twist at the memory, “I know.”

“Kitten,” He pauses again, and then he leans in and presses his hand against your cheek, “Cyare,” The familiar word tumbles from his lips in a sigh and you shiver, the only time he calls you that is when he needs you to pay attention to him, “If you need to quit, then quit. Everyone else will manage.”

“But—”

“You do not get to destroy yourself to save these people. I won’t allow it.” Crosshair interrupts.

You blink at him, genuinely surprised, and then you release a soft laugh and reach out to press your hands against his cheeks, “What would I do without you?” You ask with a smile.

“Well, you’d still be working in a cramped little medical facility, for one.”

You laugh and lean in to press your lips against his, your lunch forgotten.

Crosshair eagerly tugs you onto his lap, his hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head so he’s able to deepen the kiss. “We’re going to get caught,” He mumbles against your lips.

“Your concern, not mine.” You counter, as you lightly nip his lower lip, causing him to tighten his grip around you.

You’re sure that Crosshair would continue the discussion, only you lightly drag your nails through his short hair, and all of his desire to bicker about it leaves him in an instant.

Crosshair’s strong hands adjust you so that you’re settled more comfortably on his lap, and he pulls you flush against him, wanting you as close as he can get you. And you’re more than happy to go along with it.

In fact, you’re so distracted by the press of his lips against yours, that you don’t notice your office door opening until you hear a muffled laugh and a throat clearing.

You pull away from Crosshair to glare at the person at the door, and then you sigh when you see who’s standing there. “Ah…Hunter,”

Hunter has a wide grin on his face as he looks from you to Crosshair, and then back again. “Just friends, huh? I hope you know I’m going to tell…oh…everyone.”

You turn your attention from Hunter to Crosshair, who looks deeply annoyed. “You do that,” Crosshair grumbles as he reaches around you to hit the door control on your desk, slamming and locking the door in his older brother’s face.

“Hey, doc! We’re having a family dinner this weekend,” Hunter calls through the door, “All of the significant others are going to be there. You definitely need to come.”

You absently trail a light finger down Crosshair’s cheek, your head tilting questioningly. He smiles at you and lightly kisses your fingers, “I’d like you to come.”

“I’ll be there,” You call through the door, “Now go away. I’m busy.”

You hear Hunter laughing, and then he’s gone, and you happily turn your attention back to Crosshair.

“Oh? You’re busy?” Cross asks.

You hum and press your lips to the sensitive skin under his ear, “I’m hosting a biology lesson.”

And Crosshair laughs, “I promise to be a most thorough student.” He promises before catching your earlobe between his teeth.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Eddie Diaz's "Ghost of a Second Chance"

IMO, in 7x7, Eddie Diaz will have a chance to see or hear how the life he always believed he was "supposed" to have with a wife and kids is not the life he's been WANTING. Based on his heart eyes and the way he's used Chris as a shield for his heart, his ideal life includes a husband (Buck) and their son (Chris).

Be clear, I ONLY SHIP BUDDIE!

I waited to post this because when season 7 started, it was unclear where the show was going to take Eddie's storyline and it appears the redirection of it that happened prior to 7x4 and 7x5 was not the original plan since it's been confirmed via interviews that Eddie was supposed to be with T*mmy instead of Buck. Also, now that it's confirmed Shannon Diaz will make a return in a future season 7 episode as either a ghost or a hallucination or whatever for Eddie, I decided I was ready to post this.

At the end of season 6 when Eddie asked Maris*l out on a date, I thought about the way the narrative has always shown Shannon is the only person who can help Eddie understand Chris doesn't need another mother. He's been carrying the weight and guilt of their relationship around with him for years because he thought him going to the Army broke her when in fact, they were two broken teenagers who were in over their heads and they were so busy trying to mimic the lives they saw Eddie's parents living that they never discussed what either of them wanted out of life.

Unpopular Opinion: Eddie and Shannon were NOT this perfect high school aged Romeo and Juliet type of romantic couple some people keep trying to make them out to be because the truth is they weren't soulmates and they weren't compatible. While it's true they were best friends, they were never on the same page and they didn't know how to communicate. Instead of talking to each other, all they did was argue and have sex but matured relationships consist of more than just sex, hence the 7x5 depiction of Eddie's relationship with Maris*l. They don't know each other and the episode title, "You don't know me" confirmed it.

Full Disclosure: I'm not a Shannon Diaz fan and it has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH BUDDIE! It's strictly because she ABANDONED Chris, her biological son and the fact that she was a teen mother doesn't have anything to do with it because it does NOT excuse her behaviors. Teenage girls who were/are younger than her don't/didn't run out on their kids just because they need/needed time. If she didn't want to be with Eddie anymore that's fine but to leave and not attempt to contact her son for almost two years was NOT ok. She wrote Chris a letter that she wasn't even sure she would send but what happened to a phone call or her sending him a "Hey Chris, I love you and I miss you" email? Even back then there were too many ways she could have contacted him but the CANON FACTS are SHE CHOSE NOT TO. If Eddie wouldn't have called her to interview at Durand she would have stayed gone. Don't get it twisted because she was getting ready to leave Chris again so people should stop romanticizing their relationship and truthfully, so does Eddie. For CANON proof of these claims, all viewers have to do is LISTEN to the things she said to him in 2x17 when they were at the beach and when they were at the restaurant.

Eddie's my favorite character but he's not blameless in any of this either and by his own admission to Buck in 2x10, he left them first. But the difference is he made the DECISION to leave El Paso so he could provide a better life for him and his son even though his toxic mother, Helena (I'm not including Ramon because he had a redemption arc) offered to take Chris from him. He could have left Chris there but HE DIDN'T. He even told Shannon that being Chris' father taught him more about being a man than war ever could.

One last thing, Shannon and Maddie ARE NOT THE SAME! Maddie didn't abandon Jee-Yun, she left because she thought she was a danger to her and she went to get help. She wasn't in Boston galivanting around, shopping and partying like it was 1999, she went to a center for women to figure out what was wrong with her and why she felt like she did then she continued with therapy.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...

While I don't like Shannon's actions, I do believe she's probably the only person who can help Eddie understand that he doesn't have to marry a "woman" to be happy. Why do I believe this? Well, they were best friends and they were married which means she knows things about Eddie that no one else does. She was the first woman he "pulled" away from and since they were separated for a long time while he was in the Army and after she left them, it's likely she figured some things out about what he really wants that neither of them was ready to confront.

Since 2x1, Eddie's story has been told in bits and pieces and while a lot of people romanticized what he had with her, I didn't because they were young and neither one of them knew what they wanted. Did he love her? He said he did but IMO he loved her as much as an 18-year-old could but I don't believe he was in love with her. Did she love him? She said she did but just like him, based solely on her actions, she didn't know what love was either.

Reminder, the only reason Eddie proposed they reconcile in 2x17 was because she thought she was pregnant again. He said he was looking for a sign and he thought her begin pregnant was it but before that he didn't want to do it. If you don't believe it, rewatch 2x17 and LISTEN to the conversation he had with Bobby. Bobby was the one who told him he would be a great dad to a second child but Eddie wasn't so sure. At dinner, when Shannon said, "I'm not pregnant", he paused then responded, "That doesn't change anything" but she rebutted with, "It does for me".

It appears she finally admitted to him that the life they were trying to live was NOT the one either of them wanted but he wasn't ready to admit it. He was using Chris as a shield like he always does and he was hoping her love for their son would be enough for them to reconcile and continue doing whatever they were doing. He said something similar to Ana when he broke up with her in 5x3. He said, "Chris loves you so much" but he never said he did and now he's trying to figure out where Maris*l fits since she babysat twice while he was flying in helicopters going to fight matches in Las Vegas and to karaoke with TK.

Believe it or not, Shannon was getting ready to leave again. If she wasn't then she wouldn't have brought up the letter she wrote to Chris. Also, she said she was still learning how to be someone's mother (notice she didn't say Chris' mother she said someone's) and she said maybe someday, she could learn how to be somebody's wife (not Eddie's wife but somebody's). Furthermore, when they were at the beach, she asked Eddie, "Is that all I am to you, Christopher's mother?" but he responded, "Shannon?" and deflected the conversation. Then she said if that's what it is then it's ok. She proceeded and asked him what he wanted and all he said was "All of this" with a hand wave out towards the ocean. He never admitted what he wanted and it appears the reason was because he didn't want to say.

In 2x7, while they were arguing, Eddie asked her, "What didn't I give you?" and her response was "You!" Therefore, Eddie always kept a piece of himself away from her and she admitted it to him but he wanted it to work probably for the wrong reasons.

REMINDER: In 2x17, Shannon was the one who said they needed to get a DIVORCE! She knew they needed to move on but Eddie was the one who said, "But we're still married". It appears he was the one trying to hold onto the life he believed they were supposed to have and I think it goes back to the example he saw from his parents.

Here's the thing, in 6x16, Eddie admitted he didn't propose to Shannon, he just said, "Let's get married" after they found out she was pregnant. They were best friends in high school and they started an instant family that neither of them were ready for. When she abruptly died, he didn't have a chance to discuss all the things they'd left unsaid. That's why Shannon has to be the one to tell him that it's ok for him to want who he wants. Who's that? BUCK!

Shannon vs. Buck

Please understand the show has illustrated it time and time again that Eddie wants to marry Buck so they can raise Chris together. If that wasn't the case, then Buck wouldn't have been included in Eddie's flashbacks in 3x15 while he was trapped in the well as many times as he was. He was shown with Chris more than anyone else which means Eddie thinks about the life he wants to have with Buck A LOT!

Additionally, in 7x1, Buck, Eddie and Shannon all sat on Chris' bed in the same spot to illustrate how they're his three parents while the babysitter (Maris*l) was nowhere to be found (related post linked here).

Also, Shannon's romantic relationship with Eddie and her parental one with Chris were constantly contrasted with the relationships Eddie and Chris have with Buck and Buck has always been shown to be the perfect match for Eddie. Reminder, he agreed to have Buck's back in 2x1 but Shannon told him in 2x7 that he never had her back.

Eddie needs to HEAR he can move on from the first person he married from someone other than the people who've been saying it to him. Also, in the past, someone's ALWAYS told him what to do regarding his relationships. He was "strongly encouraged" to marry Shannon because he got her pregnant. His parents and Bobby told him it was time to move on from her in season 4 (YES! His parents did too because reminder, they stopped by their house to eat on their way back to L.A. after they left Austin, TX [in the LS crossover episode, Eddie said it to Judd] and two episodes later, in 4x6, Bobby told him he needed to move on). Then in 6x14, Tia Pepa pushed him to start dating again even though he tried to tell her he wasn't ready.

The point of this post is Shannon is probably the ONLY person who can show or tell Eddie that the life he thought they should have had, wouldn't have ever been because there would have always been someone or something that was pulling him away from her the same way it did when they were married 👀.

It appears Shannon will be Eddie's "Ghost of a Second Chance" but the question is, will her reappearance as a ghost or whatever for the second time in season 7 help Eddie admit the person he's in love with is Buck? Only the showrunner, writers and producers know the answer to that question.