#has a note on his phone of literally just details (plot points) he needs to touch on when he’s recounting his gossip

[pedrito-friskito]

twelve months with the devil - chapter three: december - part i

summary: matt asks for a favour, and you’re happy to oblige.

warnings: no warnings here really, pretty tame, if not just a bit emotional.

a/n: one thing to note - this fic contains matt as a character, and elements of the MCU, but I am tweaking things (plot points/background details/etc. etc.) - keep an open mind!

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

You do talk soon. You talk a lot, actually, even after you’ve signed the documents Matt and Foggy hand-deliver, accompanied by more doughnuts. “Powdered sugar won’t buy you much, Nelson,” you joke, the words said around a bite of doughy goodness, “but it will buy you my affection.”

It pulls a smile out of Matt, and Foggy blushes bright red.

That’s the last time you saw Matt in the flesh, in truth. Most of your nights are spent on the phone with him, when he isn’t…occupied. Sometimes he’ll call after he’s gotten back from whatever ass-kicking he’s delivered — not that he tells you — always chalking up his gruff voice to a late night at the office or a few too many beers at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen.

You don’t mind, telling him he can call you whenever he wants and you’ll answer; your sleep schedule has dissolved into chaos since the Alleyway Incident, as you call it, and you like the sound of his voice just as much as he seems to like yours.

And there’s something different about those late night/early morning calls, something hidden in the rasp of his whispers, the way he says your name like a prayer, his easy praise and easier compliments. Matthew Murdock is a smooth talker, and thinking you were in trouble after that first night on the roof had been an understatement.

You were in deep. You are in deep.

The phone conversations aren’t as information-filled as you’d like, and there’s been more than one occasion where you’d nearly blurted out that you knew his secret. But really, how does one go about that? I know you’re the masked vigilante that roams Hell’s Kitchen and saved my life — can we make out now?

You know he wants to ask about your past — there’ve been a few close calls, questions you skirt around far too quickly, half-truths that roll off your tongue all too smoothly. Lines you’ve been saying for a long time. “Tony and Pepper got me out of a…bad situation, and I probably won’t ever go back to Nevada. It’s in the past, and it can stay there.”

“A bad situation can mean a lot of things,” he’d returned, and you could hear that slight change in his tone, that instantaneous slip from your friend/potential lover/gigantic crush to the lawyer version of Matt Murdock. “Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share.”

“I don’t doubt it, and I do trust you, Murdock. Probably more than I should. But I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

He’d gone quiet for a second, before, “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to. But if I can help, if you need legal advice or representation or anything like that, then please, let me.”

You’d nearly burst into tears on the phone, quickly changing the subject and asking him to tell you about the first case that had made him feel like a real lawyer. It was distraction enough, but even after you hung up the phone, the offer sat heavy on your chest.

It would be so easy to spill your guts, to tell him everything, just lay it all bare. But then where would that leave you? What would he think of you then? Would he admit who he was if you told him what had really happened?

The questions linger in the back of your mind, so you keep your mouth shut, and it hasn’t come up since. Your secret, or his.

You’ve both managed to skirt around the rescheduling of your dinner date, as well, much to your dismay. Matt is busy, with both his day and night jobs if the papers reporting on the Man in the Mask are anything to go by, and you’ve been working your way back up to well, working, slowly but surely. Pepper had all but forced you to take a break, quite literally pushing you out of the office the first day you’d tried to go back. It had been too much, and you appreciated her looking out for you.

Your bruises have mostly healed, save for the cut on your lip that you’ve formed a bad habit of biting at, and thanks to a little science from Tony, the gifted rose is still intact, perfectly preserved and still as sweet as the morning you’d found it. You’ve also contemplated mentioning the flower to Matt, too, but haven’t yet.

When he calls you out of the blue on a Tuesday morning, however, you feel like something’s coming.

“What are the chances I could ask a favour of you?”

+

The favour turns out to be driving Matt, sans Foggy, upstate to see a client. It strikes you a little odd when only the Murdock side of Nelson and Murdock climbs into the white Jeep Tony has leant you for the excursion, and you say as much. “Foggy doesn’t know about this client,” he answers a little too quickly. “It’s…off the books, I guess.”

“Super secrets,” you reply, watching to make sure his seat belt is buckled before you pull away from the curb outside Matt’s office. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“Between the two of us, we could write a book filled with our super secrets,” he jokes, “but then, I guess it wouldn’t be much of a book, since they’re secrets.”

“Invisible ink!” you offer, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him grin. “Do people even actually use that stuff, or is it just in spy movies?”

“I’ve yet to encounter invisible ink,” he tells you, “but the moment I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good.”

The conversation comes easily as you pull onto the freeway, having punched in the address Matt provided into the car’s GPS. It’s a chilly December day, snow lightly falling as you drive. You like driving, you’ve always liked driving, and you have to admit your heart picked up a little at the prospect of spending a few hours in a car with Matt Murdock.

You find a Starbucks with a drive-thru, waving off Matt’s offered cash and ordering the most Christmassy drinks you can. Matt makes a face when you hand him one, his expressive eyes hidden behind his glasses but the frown on his mouth telling you more than enough. “This smells more like sugar than coffee,” he grumbles.

“It probably is,” you agree, giggling and sipping at your drink, which happens to taste more like a sugar cookie than a latte, complete with sprinkles on top, “but I’m still shocked you’ve never had a peppermint mocha, so drink up.”

“Really, that shocks you?”

“Zip it, Murdock, and drink.”

He grins like the devil at you, but does as you ask, somehow managing to get whipped cream all along his upper lip in the process. You find yourself staring as his tongue darts out to lick it away, and he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb before sucking it clean.

Deep. You’re in deep.

Eyes on the road, you think to yourself, setting your drink down and putting both hands on the wheel. It’s unfair, how distracting he can be, just sitting there. And then he adjusts himself in his seat, planting his elbow on the console between you two, his arm pressed against your shoulder. He’s so warm.

After a few minutes, you catch him trying to slip the money you’d waved off in the drive-thru into your purse, and reach out to smack his hand away, pulling a quiet yelp out of him. “Put it away, Matthew,” you scold, pushing at his wrist. “I mean it.”

“Let me give you some money,” he protests, pushing back against your hand. “For the gas.”

“I don’t need your gas money!” you laugh, grabbing the bills from his hand and tossing them in his lap.”I mean it, Matt. It’s fine. What are friends for, right? And I don’t I already owe you and Foggy for the representation, technically?” He sighs, tipping his head back and stuffing the money back into his pocket. “You’re talking to the girl living rent-free at the Avengers Tower, working for Stark Industries, and my sister signs my paycheques. Trust me, I can afford the gas.”

“You’re bragging,” he says, rolling his head on his shoulders towards you, sly grin on his stupid handsome face, “just for the record.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He waits a beat, the smile fading slightly. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

A vicious blush crawls up your face and you bite the inside of your lip, happy he can’t see it. “I wasn’t sure what to call it. Friends seemed like a good place to start.”

He purses his lips, leaning further sideways so his arm is pressed tighter to yours. “Well, then I’ll have to owe you a favour, friend.”

“Please,” you start, shaking your head, “you saved me from another day in the Tower, most likely shuttered in my room, pondering my existence. You know, the regular Tuesday schedule. So, no return favour required. Happy to do it.”

“And the pondering of your existence,” he asks, “does that have anything to do with what happened last month?”

You heave a breath, leaning forward to adjust your gaze as you turn right, following the GPS’s directions. “Ding, ding, ding, give the man a prize,” you mumble, biting harder at the inside of your lip. “Didn’t know you were a lawyer and a shrink, Murdock.”

He says your name like a warning.

“Sorry, that was mean,” you say instantly, pushing a hand through your hair as you continue down the road. “It does and it doesn’t, but it’s fine. It happened, it’s over with, I’m alive and it could have been much worse. End of story.”

You’re not sure why, but the conversation feels like an opening, and for once, you leap at it.

“And I can add you to the growing list of people I owe my life to.”

The car falls so silent, Matt going so incredibly still that you’re sure he’s stopped breathing. You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to say something, and when you chance a glance at him, you see his mouth slightly parted, his hands now folded in his lap like a child being scolded.

He says nothing, so you just keep talking.

“I know,” you say, “that it was you. That night in the alley. I don’t know how I figured it out, drunk as I was, but I saw your mouth under the streetlights, heard your voice, and bam, puzzle complete. It just clicked. And that, coupled with the way you kissed my forehead before you disappeared. I had a hunch,” you chance another glance, he hasn’t moved, “a very strong hunch. And then I saw you, the next night, when we were supposed to go to dinner, on the roof across from the Tower, and I knew I was right.”

Still nothing, no movement. You’re tempted to check for a pulse.

“I know it was you,” you continue,” and you don’t need to tell me. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s not my secret to tell. But I know. And thank you.”

Finally, he speaks, sagging slightly in the seat, his arm like fire against yours. “You don’t have to thank me.” He shakes his head slightly. “I heard you scream and I just…” He pushes a hand through his hair, scratches at his jaw. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” you say, glancing between him and the road. “I do have to. And I will say, I admire the moral code, with the no killing thing. It’s refreshing.”

There’s the tiniest of twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Says the girl who’s friends with the Avengers.”

You grin. “I’m not friends with all of them,” you admit, “but the whole Hulk Smash thing doesn’t exactly fall in line, does it?”

“I suppose not,” he agrees, nodding once. “Neither does your friend Natasha. The assassin.”

“Nat is…complicated,” you say, biting back your grin. “And looking out for my best interests.”

“Ah,” he murmurs, “that explains the pretty red-head lurking in the building across from my office.”

“You saw her?” you ask, balking before realizing how silly the question is.

Matt chuckles. “Foggy did. Gave me a…detailed description. I assume that means you told her about me?”

You inhale, reaching for your drink. “Your name might have come up, once or twice.”

He laughs again, the sound music to your ears. It’s not exactly how you’d envisioned having the conversation, and you haven’t gained much more information than you already had. But he knows that you know, and for now, it’s enough.

You set you drink back in the cup holder, and your hand lingers over the gearshift. It takes less than a second for Matt to slide his hand beneath yours, fingers laced together, palm warm as anything.

+

The rest of the drive is quieter, the silence there but not awkward, your hand folded in Matt’s. He weaves his fingers through yours over and over, your knuckles knocking together, his thumb tracing shapes in your skin.

As the miles tick down on the GPS, you notice Matt’s demeanour change, his shoulders bunched up around his ears, his grip on your hand tightening.

He only tries to offer you money once more, saying he feels bad that you’re doing all the driving and he’s just sitting there.

“How about you buy me dinner when we get back to the city?” you offer, and while his shoulders don’t loosen, the corner of his mouth quirks.

“I guess that’s a fair trade.”

Finally, you make the last turn, passing through large metal gates and driving up a long, winding driveway that leads to a pretty house tucked amongst evergreen trees, a small lake not far off. There’s one car parked out front, a neatly tended garden blanketed with snow and a pathway leading to the house that’s clearly been freshly shovelled.

“Nice place,” you comment, pulling the Jeep into the space behind the parked car. Matt unbuckles his seat belt and you reach for yours. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no,” he says with a shake of his head. “I know the way.”

“Matt, there could be ice, you could fa—”

Lightning quick, he reaches across the console and takes your face in both hands, his palms warm against your cheeks, fingers just brushing your hairline. Instantly, you’re back on the rooftop, back under his grip, his lips locking with yours. The kiss is different from the frantic, heated one on Halloween, but it sets you on fire all the same. He drags his mouth across yours slowly, intimately, kissing your bottom lip, then your top one, then the bottom again, teeth catching on the split in your lip. It sends a spark of pain across your mouth and you taste copper, but it only stokes the fire.

“Shit,” he whispers against your lips, pulling away. “You’re bleeding. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You quiet him with another kiss, your hands reaching for his wrists. “Don’t apologize.”

He groans into your mouth, yanking his mouth away from yours with a twist of his head, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, the warmth of his breath on your face smelling of chocolate, peppermint, and coffee. “I should go inside. Don’t move, okay? Just stay,” a peck beneath your left eye, “right,” the bridge of your nose, “here.” Then your right eye. “I’ll be quick.”

“Okay.”

When you open your eyes, he’s gone, the car door shutting as you settle a little deeper into the driver’s seat. True to his word, he does know the way, his cane barely touching the ground as he makes his way to the door. You watch as he lifts his hand to knock, and a moment later, a woman dressed in Christmas-coloured scrubs answers, smiling at him and stepping to the side so he can enter.

The door closes and you busy yourself, flipping through radio stations before settling on a Christmas station playing all the oldies. Frank Sinatra croons his way through Baby, It’s Cold Outside, and you stare at your phone, replying to texts from Pepper and Nat and Caleb. The snow is coming quicker now than it had been in the city, and before you know it, an hour has passed and there’s nearly five inches of it sitting on the hood of the car, the previously shovelled pathway now hidden beneath the white.

Another half hour, another three inches on the ground, and you’re starting to worry that the trip back to the city won’t be easy. You check the weather reports, which all tell you the snow is not stopping anytime soon and to basically hole up where you can.

Tony answers on the first ring. “Hey, kid, how goes the unknown journey?”

“Fine,” you answer, peering through the windshield up at the grey sky above. “This weather is something else though.”

“Well, the Jeep is all-terrain,” he laughs, familiar beeping in the background, “but there’s always the cabin if you’re worried. You and Murdock could hole up for the night, drive back once the roads have been cleared.”

“Cabin?”

“I’ll send you the address,” he responds, “not far from where you are now.”

You sigh. “You’re tracking me?”

You can almost hear the nonchalant lift of his shoulder. “The car is hooked up to Jarvis’s network, kid. Just keeping an eye out, you know how it is.”

Another sigh. “I do. Thanks, Tony. See you tomorrow then.”

“See ya, kid,” he says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Hah, that narrows it down.”

He just laughs and the call disconnects.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opens, revealing a ruffled-looking Matt, and you’re out of the car, the hat and gloves you’d grabbed on your way out shielding you from the falling snow, brush in hand, wiping what you can from the car. “Hey, wait there!” you call, setting the brush on the hood and picking your way up the path to the door, grateful for your boots. “It snowed a lot while you were inside,” you say, reaching where Matt is standing and putting your hand on his arm, letting it slide down to his wrist. His breath is heavy, sending puffs of steam into the air between you. “Stay close to me.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and you don’t miss the way his voice breaks on the word. Your eyes narrow, raking across his face, and you can see the trail of wet along the side of his nose, the slight red gathered around his eyes beneath his glasses. For a minute, you think it’s just the reflection of the lenses against his skin, but as you approach the passenger’s side of the car, he slumps against you, hooking an arm around your neck. He murmurs out your name, voice breaking again, and you realize he’s crying.

“Hey,” you say, instantly trying to soothe him. The snow is still falling, flakes catching in his hair and settling on his shoulders. His hand settles around the back of your neck, pulling you against him, and you hook your hands under his arms, pressing your gloved palms against his shoulders. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

He puts his face in the curve of your neck, and you can feel the tears falling against your skin, sliding beneath the collar of your sweater. His breaths are shaky, and when you repeat the question, hugging him tight, he just shakes his head against your skin and mumbles, “Not here.”

“Okay,” you say, and pull back slowly, kissing his cheek as you go. His face is flushed and you brush the snow from his jacket, moving him backwards carefully so you can open the passenger door.

Once he’s settled, you close the door softly, your heart breaking a little in your chest as he pulls his glasses off and covers his face with one hand, a broken sob falling out of his mouth. You finish cleaning off the car the best you can, then toss the brush in the trunk and get back into the driver’s seat. He’s slumped forward, elbows on his knees, forehead pressed against the dashboard, shoulders shaking slightly. He flinches when you pull the door shut, and you start the car again, turning on the heated seats and tossing your hat and gloves into the backseat.

“That wasn’t a client,” you say quietly, “was it?”

He doesn’t move, but whispers out, “No.”

Your phone beeps then, a text from Tony appearing on the screen. It’s an address, coupled with the code to the front door. You put the address into the GPS, sighing with relief when you see it’s only half an hour from your current spot. “It’s still snowing,” you tell him, your voice still quiet, “and it’s not gonna stop. It’s dangerous, to drive back to the city now.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning back in the seat, hands fisted on his knees. “I should have…I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” You lean across the console, putting your hand on his leg. Slowly, his hand unfurls and he covers your own with it, rubbing his palm across your knuckles. “You can’t control the weather, Murdock. It’s okay.” He seems to chase your voice a little, his head hanging forward, lips parted as his temple rests against your forehead. You stretch your neck until your lips graze his jaw. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Another shaky sob falls from his mouth and your other hand reaches up to rest against the back of his neck, thumb rubbing along his hairline. He inhales deeply. “That’s my line.”

You kiss his cheek this time, snaking your hand up the back of his head before leaning back in your seat and reaching for the wheel. “Tony sent me the address to his cabin. Said we can crash there till tomorrow, wait out the snow and head back when the roads are clear. And I’m sure there’s a cabinet full of liquor.”

“Thank god.”

You turn the car around and head back up the drive, pulling carefully onto the now snow-covered main road and following the GPS directions. Matt’s hand finds it’s way to your thigh and stays there the whole way to the cabin.

[wenamedthedogkylo]

OKAY HOLD THE FUCKIN PHONE FOLKS, IT’S TIME FOR MORE CRAZY CAMPAIGN 3 META AND THEORIZING.

I’m still working on my ridiculous Pepe-Silvia-esque conspiracy theory post after Ep 13, don’t worry. I literally have a whole Google Doc going full of notes and quotes and the occasional timestamp if I feel it’s relevant. But I’m currently rewatching Episode 8 and have reacquainted myself with some info about Cyrus’s problem that has lead to a whole new theory, which I think is very related.

So buckle up, let’s dive into it. Spoilers ahead for Episodes 7 and beyond, if you’re not caught up on that.

To quickly recap: Ep 8 is the one where the Gang (as I’m calling them for now) sits down to talk with Chetney after killing the wall-monster. During that convo, Dorian introduces them to his brother Cyrus, who then proceeds to tell them about the mess he’s in. Now I’m sure I’m not alone here, but in the time since that episode aired (just before Xmas) and now, I’d definitely forgotten a few things. But these are the biggest facts that I think the Gang and we the audience still remember for sure:

Cyrus was hired to help protect a caravan that was hauling a bunch of money and a mysterious crate. The other people who were hired to guard it turned out to be thieves who proceeded to steal a bunch of the gold being transported, as well as a weird stone golem which they commanded to help them.

Cyrus, who had no knowledge of any of this, was left behind to take the fall. He was accused of being part of the plan, arrested, escaped, and subsequently had a 20,000 GP bounty placed on him.

Cyrus noted that the crate the golem burst out of had the initials J.H. on it. And Ashton was later able to confirm that the golem had belonged to his sort-of patron/sort-of blackmailer Jiana Hexum, who seemingly has a special interest in golems, as evidenced by the two stationed outside her house.

Now based on all this, it’s clear the Gang/the cast have been operating under the assumption that Jiana Hexum is the one who put out the bounty on Cyrus. After all, the golem was clearly a big ticket, high value item that she was angry about losing and very much wants back. She’s indicated that she has people working on trying to get the golem back, and the Gang has been treating her as the one they’d need to please in order to get Cyrus’s bounty removed.

Part of this is probably because at 2:25:00, Matt tells the Gang that they didn’t specifically ask Cyrus who hired him and/or put out the bounty on him, meaning Cyrus didn’t specifically tell them that info. From that point on, they focus on figuring out who J.H. is, and when they learn who it is, treat her as the one they need to bargain with.

But Matt’s a (very lovely) human being, contrary to what some people out there seem to think. And he sometimes forgets or misremembers things. And in fact, at 1:32:04, FCG does ask Cyrus who hired him, to which Cyrus responds that the bounty on him was put out by the guild who runs that caravan: the Gold Guild of Treshi.

This was significant at the time. After all, the Gang had just discovered that House Treshi owned the Stone Mason’s Guild which would have been responsible for repairs in the alley behind the Dreamscape Theater. But at that time, we didn’t even know who Armand Treshi was or how important this house would become, so it could have been a red herring. And I think due to Matt’s later mistake and to the growing importance of Jiana Hexum as the plot has progressed, this tidbit of information was left behind. (To be clear, not the cast’s fault—they’re busy adult people who cannot reasonably be expected to remember every tiny detail. I just happen to be someone with a disturbing amount of free time on their hands to comb through for this shit.)

So here’s where my brain got to spinning about this. To me, it seems Extremely Unlikely™ that either House Treshi with all their power and money OR a guild they control wouldn’t be able to screen their hired security for potential threats. Yes, it is technically possible that this group of thieves were really just that good, and managed to hoodwink the Gold Guild into hiring them.

But really? A guild that we can presume is responsible for handling and transporting the riches of the Mahaan houses—possibly for any and all banking in Jrusar—and which is owned/managed by one of the most powerful Mahaan houses in all of the Oderan Wilds, cannot be bothered to double check that their hired security isn’t going to turn on them and jack their goods?

Nah. Nah nah nah. I call bullshit. Rich people care more about their money than other people’s lives; they wouldn’t leave their gold (or their prized possessions) in the hands of anyone they thought would steal it.

Unless they meant for those people to steal it.

I propose that the caravan robbery wasn’t just a setup by some petty thieves looking to make bank. It was a setup by Armand Treshi.

It goes like this:

Armand’s house runs the Gold Guild. Through this, he knows that a caravan they manage is going to be moving a ton of gold and at least one really valuable and handy golem.

Armand hires a group of thieves to stage a robbery of the caravan. We can’t be sure what he told them to take, but Cyrus said the thieves were surprised that the golem came awake during the heist. So it seems like maybe they were only told to steal money.

To get access, Armand arranges for the Gold Guild to hire these thieves as the caravan’s protection. And as part of this plan, the Guild also hires Cyrus, someone who isn’t part of the group or the plan, to be the fall guy.

The plan goes off without a hitch. The thieves make off with a fuckton of cash, and when the golem wakes up, their leader Nova orders it to start helping them round up gold and come with them. Cyrus is left behind and is royally boned.

The Gold Guild and House Treshi have Cyrus arrested, and when he escapes, they put out the great whoppin’ bounty on his head. This gives them plausible deniability. How could they have known their hired help was going to rob them? They just lost a ton of money, too! They’re also victims here, and they’re determined to get justice!

Meanwhile, the thieves take their loot and the golem back to Armand. Armand now has a buttload of money that is officially off the books, which he can put towards nefarious uses. Such as, oh I dunno, hiring a terrifying fey creature to do magical experiments for him? Or giving his lackey Vali Dertrana the money to hire a famously expensive bounty hunter to bag a werewolf? Or buying and moving a lot of illegal brumestone? ;)

He also now has a pretty sweet stone golem that he can use however he sees fit! I’m on the fence as to whether he meant to acquire it or not, but I’m leaning much closer to yes he did. Like I said, he has the hookup to know exactly what was in that caravan, and seeing as he’s clearly into some shady shit, I bet he’d see the golem as a potentially valuable tool.

So, where does this theory leave us? Well, that depends. I also theorized during the stream of Ep 13 that Cyrus and the Corsairs were being manipulated by Emoth Kade, who was setting them up to be captured by the Paragon’s Call during the ball, as part of a larger play by Armand to get Paragon’s Call instated into the city and weaken the Corsairs.

If any of these theories holds any water, then our beloved himbo is fucking screwed. Depending on just how nefarious and deep you think Armand’s schemes go, you could extrapolate from here that Armand and Emoth aren’t just setting the Corsairs up to be captured. Maybe they specifically manipulated Cyrus, knowing that the bounty the Gold Guild has on him would motivate him to make more money to pay it off. Maybe they’re not just hoping to strike a public blow to the Corsairs, but they’re also hoping to catch the quarry of their bounty and show that House Treshi is the only one doing anything to stop the rampant problems in the city.

(For that matter, I have questions about how Cyrus escaped when he was arrested. He’s... not exactly a super genius, and I say that with nothing but love. We don’t know where he was held or by who, but it’s safe to assume he was put in the Granite Hold prison. Did the Corsairs help him escape? Or did Armand Treshi secretly arrange his escape, so that he could get a bounty out for the “thief’s” arrest and provide a further distraction to keep suspicious eyes away from him?)

Tbh, I have no fucking clue. I think it just supports the growing notion I have that Armand isn’t just looking to gain a little extra clout in Jrusar. He’s after something much, much bigger. If most of the threads the Gang have been stumbling upon really do lead back to Armand, as I believe they do, then this fucker seems to be primed to pull some major hostile takeover shit.

That’s the beauty of CR and Matt’s plotting/worldbuilding abilities, though. There’s so many ways all of this can go still, and no matter how many theories I or anyone else comes up with, we’re all gonna be surprised by whatever he pulls out of his bag. (And given the Gang’s penchant for chaos, Matt himself might even end up surprised ksjdfhdsk)

[liesoverthec]

OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

[babygirldennis]

This shit is fake bby!!!

Here she is.. My masterpost of all the dumb, illogical bits of info contained within these s15 “leaks” that make me fairly confident they are complete bullshit. It also includes my little tinhat theories that have absolutely no evidence.

I will be putting it all under a Readmore in case you don't want to risk it or if you simply Do Not Care

First up, I'd like to point out that these call sheets repeatedly give very detailed backstories to characters that have few lines which conveniently paints a picture of each episode's plot. And I'm not an expert so correct me if I'm wrong, but after looking at other similar casting calls, they only ever include the demographic and necessary skills.

Basically who in their right mind would write up casting calls that give away so many spoilers? Seems like that could cause and issue if they were leaked lol. But anyway that's my 1st point. But onto the actual content

So the conceit of this episode as a whole is that during the pandemic, the gang "gamed the system" and received three (3!) Loans to start businesses that went bankrupt. One of these businesses is implied to be the one started by dee and charlie who end up selling to Qanon shaman. Already this is so impossible baby.

1. We've already seen the gang try to get a loan and it didn't work. They don't have good ideas. Ur telling me, they managed to finagle 3 separate loans for 3 separate business ideas from an actual bank?

2. Maybe I just have bad reading comprehension but how does one have a business that is both fictitious and bankrupt?

3. If the customer is supposed to be Qanon shaman, an actual real life guy, why are the only descriptors white and male? They say he's shirtless so are they going to paint on all of the tattoos he has? And if so, doesn't that kind of ruin the dramatic reveal when charlie "throws in" the viking helmet? Why would he do that anyways? Sus.

Moving on

Alright this episode would fucking blow for obvious reasons but im going to refrain from looking at this through my gay dennis thruther lens because im biased.

Purely from a narrative standpoint, a woman hasn't been shown to be interested in dennis in nearly 5 years during the wade boggs episode. Ever since, every single woman he approaches has been actively creeped out by him. And now I'm supposed to believe that 3 "smart, passionate woman" (In Their Twenties!!!!!!) agreed to go on a date with him? And Anna even slept with him! Just because he what? Agreed with her? I'm not buyin it.

Plus the concept of this scenario lacks any potential for comedy. When iasip gets political, they always discuss a very specific topic using hyperbolic situations and flawed metaphors. If this is supposed to be a political episode, what ultimately lukewarm point would rob be trying to make here? So far we know they're ranting about

The patriarchy

Privilege

Socialism

No more personal responsibility(?)

The... nature of power in society(??)

How on earth would an episode like get approved? This shit sounds like a Ted talk. It sounds like it was written specifically to sound like a political episode so boring and pointless it would generate outrage and mile long essay posts from Tumblr users and reddit users alike. Almost like this one lol.

On a completely unrelated note, do not try and convince me that Frank "casual cock ring wearer" Reynolds is unable to perform.

Jeez this is getting out of hand fast. Let's move on

Ok now we're starting to getting into the Ireland of it all. Let me go on a bit of a tangent here about all this.. Now I thinq there are just 3 possibilities. Either this is all a publicity stunt and there is some truth to the Ireland rumors, the entire thing could be bogus from some weirdo fan (ps, if a fan did write this I want you to know I fucking hate you. You did this to me), or it is a publicity stunt but Ireland is just more bullshit.

I am going to assume it was a publicity stunt, otherwise I just wasted my entire evening and I can't have that kind of mentality rn. Additionally, I'm Going to tinhat here for a second and say that the Ireland rumors are true, but the details are different.

I say this because if they were going to do filming in Ireland, they probably figured that that information would be impossible to hide. In essence, my completely unfounded hypothesis is that this leak was their fucked up little way of controlling the situation while simultaneously messing with us.

Ok tangent is over, returning to the casting calls. From the looks of it, dee starts a "scam" acting class and has some very devoted students (Note that Tony was also the name of the porn shop owner. Seems weird!) Presumably after the gang replaces her with a monkey as the title suggests.

Honestly, there isn't too much here that's a red flag to me... seems like a nice little dee-centric episode that is the link to the Dublin angle. Assuming I am At All right, this could be a genuine plotline for Dee. However, the monkey could be a red herring and there could be a whole different side plot with the guys. who's to say. Next one!

Ah yes this is the dennis we all know and despise.. no red flags for me here really, I'm also running out of steam because idk if it shows, but I am majorly sleep deprived atm. Anyway I'm going to the next one

Okay this is where things start getting weird again ough a migraine just hit, anyway back to my earlier point about how casting calls would never contains major spoilers bc the people who see these wont be under any kind of NDA..

These ones reveal that bonnie dies. Again, that info wouldn't be in a casting call.

But also they suggest charlie has a irish penpal named Shelley who is his biological father. First off charlie is illiterate, although as pointed out by @undeadbreeze shelley could also be communicating in symbols. However, this scenario is still unbelievable to me for a couple reasons:

1. Bonnie's last name is Kelly obviously, and we know it's her maiden name because Jack's last name is also Kelly. But Shelley's last name is... also Kelly? In the context of this big ol hoax, it feels like it was written to show that look! his last name is the same as charlie's! That's how you know that's his dad! But It would be way too big of a coincidence if charlie's dad happened to have the same last name bonnie.

And 2. There's the whole mystery of charlie's long-lost sister from 'charlie got molested' but never any mention of a brother which according to this, shelley has been pretending to be his brother for years. And we all know how much rcg loves their continuity, it seems uncharacteristically lazy to just tack this on without any prior buildup.

And finally let me talk about mac for a second and specifically the line in gus's summary "both are gay men who are attracted to the priesthood for all the wrong reasons"

Iasip has commented on pedophilia in the priesthood many times in the past which leads me to believe that they are implying that mac is a pedophile? Please let me know if I completely misread the implications of that statement, but if not, then that is completely insane and one of the biggest indictators that this is fake. Mac is awful, just like everyone in the gang but he is definitely not a pedophile.

However even if i did completely misread that, it's still proof this is fake.. For all his faults, Rob put a surprising amount of care and effort into mac's coming-out. It hasn't been perfect, but Mfhp in particular firmly established that mac's faith is integral to his identity so Its unlikely that rob would throw all of that away for a cheap shot at priests.

Ok my brain is irradiated sludge at this point, but in conclusion. I hope that 1. I'm right, at least about it being fake (Otherwise damb that'll be so humiliating for me) And 2. This eases ur fears a bit. I don't want to lose all faith in future seasons bc I love iasip and miss the gang. If you read this far youre insane but I literally love you so goddamn much because I spent so so long tapping this out on my silly little phone

Please feel free to add on or message me your thoughts and opinions I need to know I'm not the only one who uhhh went a bit insane. And finally: whoever made these is a cunt. Mwah.

[disfordevineaux]

Character Parallels: Chase vs Julia

First off, let me start with:

SEASON 3 SPOILER WARNING.

This is somewhat a continuation from my original Chase Devineaux Case Study I did a while back. Feel free to read it to fully understand the context behind my opinions and thoughts on Chase, Julia and such discussed below. Let’s begin.

Although Season 3 was short, it was still a season that provided us with a new potential story catalyst to propel the plot in the form of major character development.

A bit of context:

Throughout the series, Chase Devineaux was always sceptical and often outright against the idea that Carmen Sandiego could have ulterior motives (due to his ill-fated meetings with the said person driving that home and on the surface she literally is stealing), an idea his previous partner, Julia Argent, was the spokesperson for. To quote a long story short, Chase was not too pleased or in agreement with the idea proposed by Julia: Carmen Sandiego isn’t the real enemy. Others shunned this idea too (Zari & Chief) and consistently was never outright ‘proved’ from a physical evidence standpoint. Both stood on opposite ends of the ‘who really is Carmen Sandiego’ spectrum. This was the major theme of division between Chase and Julia, a plot point further driven by the unlucky streak he suffered when dealing with Team Red, and VILE. Mostly he, and ACME, could not separate the entities completely, even up until the end of Season 3.

In the S03E04, ‘The Masks of Venice Caper’, after 3 seasons of being moments away from Carmen Sandiego at every step, Chase succeeds. After a long and clearly exhausting chase throughout the streets of Venice, he is able to finally catch up.

He leaps aboard after making the jump and officially bears witness to the handing over of goods, something which Julia was only ever afforded. Chase is blindsided at her easy surrender, simple innocent explanation and instantly clean escape. He does not go after her, instead stands bewildered at what she said, leaving him with the important line of: ‘Jules would understand’, (because she would with her prior knowledge and experience), to digest what just occurred.

This was not what he was expecting, as on other occasions they met him with hostility or evasion without explanation. Instead, he is treated as if he were Julia, filling the role as a substitute, as she is no longer on the scene to be the recipient of the ‘handoff’. At this moment, thanks to Carmen’s finale line, it all clicks. Previous conversations run through his mind, visibly questioning, as he makes the connection before being interrupted by Agent Zari, congratulating him on stopping the robbery.

The confirmation that he finally gets it is reaffirmed by a theme of a ‘silent partner’ which he now uses himself with commenting, awkwardly, that ‘I did not do it alone’ (A call back to S01E09, see below). This is the formal affirmation that he now understands that Carmen is not the enemy. There was no way he would have ever connected the dots without visual verification, experiencing it for himself first hand, a situation Julia experienced multiple times by fortune, something people forget when watching him grapple with his inability to detain the ‘thief’. Julia was provided with many chances throughout season 1-2 to work with or in situational coincidence with Carmen and aid in the protection of potential goods in harm’s way. (Most notably S02E04)

Julia’s departure, though disappointing to fans (and myself), was a crucial plot device to enable Chase to be finally exposed to the events which would lead him to change his mind for the better. Unless by some miracle he was chosen as the recipient of Team Red’s well wishes with Julia on the scene and/or in tow, it would have taken far longer for the realisation to be made. An understanding that is only able to be fully recognised by Julia and Chase. The only two people around long enough and familiar enough with Carmen Sandiego and the entire case to be in any position to come to the right conclusion about her intentions.

As many may say, seeing is believing. And seeing was what he needed to believe, both Chase and Julia needing that direct witnessing to understand. Seems the red lining of his original coat meant something after all.

(Do note: Julia was more inclined and susceptible to a conflicting opinion due to her heightened observation skills from the get-go but still needed visual confirmation, which she got, to stand strong with her diverging opinion on Carmen Sandiego.)

The Parallels:

In the next and final episode of S03E05, "The Jolly Good Show Caper", we are greeted with a callback to S01E03’s episode "The Sticky Rice Caper". Instead of Chase and Julia being on their way to interrogate Gray in the Paris Interpol office, Agent Zari and Chase are walking through the halls of the Italian Interpol office to interrogate their latest captured VILE operative, Neal the Eel. From a clearly visual standpoint (see below), the makeup of the scene and placement of characters is a direct callback to the dynamic between both Chase and Julia, and now between Chase and Zari.

S01E03 VS S03E05

Chase now takes the place of Julia, physically and mentally, who listens to a rundown of the situation, proposes a vague counter-argument which is disregarded by Zari. Chase is now wanting to look beneath the surface of the robbery or incident (like Julia always did), unlike before. Similar to the situation in S01E03, Zari is unwavering in her opinion that Carmen and the new detainee are in cahoots, Chase stating that his previous statement was merely ‘entertaining all possible angles’, a comment he further elaborates on to Chief at the end of the episode.

S03E05:

S01E03:

After coming to the interrogation room, Zari dramatically pushes it open in the same style as Chase did seasons earlier, halting her statement to reveal the suspect has ‘escaped’. Zari is stumped, Chase not too phased at this revelation and quickly checks the documents to understand what has occurred, once again.

S03E05

S01E03

Chase again, takes the stance of the ‘Julia’, all-knowing and proceeds to correctly recount the possible scenario that they have found themselves in, having experienced this once before. This ‘recounting of events’ is confirmed to the audience by Chase’s voice monologuing of sorts over an escaping by boat, Neal.

S03E05

S01E03

This scene is interesting for obvious reasons: it’s a direct call back to a later episode and the dynamic within. It is also a pivotal moment we see that Chase was always fully aware of what is happening around him, and really only required the correct pieces to fall into his lap at all the right times to now be the new ‘Julia’ in the dynamic. That style of a sequence of events is what helped Julia see the truth in Carmen’s actions in the first place. Chase has always been cognizant of the events around him, even if they could be contradictory to his main beliefs. Actively choosing not to present it to the audience, in favor of the popular opinion presented by and through ACME, their agents their leader that Carmen Sandiego is the enemy. Half of this being pressure, wanting to succeed in his work, gain praise for it and lack thereof witnessing first hand some sort of ‘positive’ reaffirmation of Carmen’s good intentions and that he really thought he was right. We see this through his sheer self disappointment and embarrassment when facing Chief after mistakes he had no true control over.

Towards the end of the same episode. Carmen is ‘captured’ in London. Agent Zari and Chase receive this development while travelling, Chase jumping out of his seat surprised, shocked, concerned that she was detained saying ‘that is terrible!’. Zari is notable taken aback, Chase quickly tries to collect himself and adjusts his statement and ends with ‘that. we were not the ones to make the arrest.’ Time has passed since the escape of Neal, Chase left to stew with his changing opinions and it clearly appears as if he no longer wishes for Carmen’s capture in the traditional sense, knowing that what she has been doing, is not criminally based. It’s unsure what his plans are when facing Carmen once again, but it at the very least no longer her capture.

Not only are Chase and Julia’s mindsets on the same path, but Chase is also no longer the driver between the pair. A fun nod to how Chase always drove, if dangerously at times.

After events unfold, Chase and Zari soon discover the planted crown jewels in Roundabouts office after a tip off, they run to retrieve them and Chase stops to glance out the window, witnessing Carmen Sandiego flying away from the scene. This is important, if a small detail, in once again showing us he has changed. He is far more observant and is the new candidate to witness the usual things Julia would if she were there. He stopped, was in the right place at the right time, recognised first hand the role Carmen plays in the grand scene of things, as a protector who runs interference.

When things have seemingly been resolved, Chase and Zari are in conference with Chief who details how she deems that it was all an elaborate plan where Roundabout and Carmen were in cahoots. In what is shown to be his first moment ever displaying his new and differing opinions to Chief on the events prior, he details how, maybe, Carmen left the items here for them to discover purposefully. Chief glares at him silently, Chase displaying an awkward reluctant smile, then ignores his opinion moving on. She informs him that it is his job to interrogate Roundabout for answers on how Carmen is connected to him, disregarding his prior though they are not united until Zari receives a phone call. They are informed that Roundabout never reached the destination and has escaped.

S03E05

A Sum Up:

In conclusion, Chase has officially changed opinions on Carmen Sandiego and has fallen into the role Julia left for him when she departed from ACME. Even with the pre-existing knowledge of the hacking by Player and all other indiscretions against him perpetrated by Team Red. He has been through a journey and come out the end with a new perspective

Agent Zari has now acted as both Julia’s and now Chase’s, well ‘Chase’, when it comes to the dynamic of the pairing. In many instances when consulting Chief, Julia has been informed to essentially ‘do her job’ or is only half-listen too, in a subtle way, instead of coming up with theories that don’t necessarily correlate with the majority. This all comes ahead in S03E02 ‘The Day of the Dead Caper’, where Chief is finally blunt with Julia (see below). The same thing has now befallen Chase (see below), except with little to no lead up to instant rejection. All of Chief’s patience for differing opinions was used up, all on Julia it appears.

S03E05

S03E02

The summation of all this produces a new defender of Carmen Sandiego; Chase Devineaux. The likely future outcome will be Chase attempting to contact, seek an audience with Carmen as Julia once attempted, and would succeeded in part from time to time. It is unlikely how well this will go considering Chase and is usually outwardly expressive with his determination to arrest her. One can only hope he is given a chance to rectify his past miscalculations and is able to further support these new set beliefs to ACME, Carmen Sandiego and himself. 

One can also hope Julia returns, maybe by a proposition from Chase, who will no doubt have trouble enacting his new purpose of true justice, and seeking answers/help from Carmen Sandiego. This would also promote a chance for an adult discussion, an apology, one sorely lacking in Season 3 between them. With this new air of familiarity between their opinions on Carmen, a rare opinion it appears, a chance for a reformation of a proper team dynamic is possible.

They lacked a connection throughout season 1 and 2 which aided in their bitter union, both full-heartedly, if not realised or intentional, determined to have their opinion victorious over the other to themselves and to those around them. Chase far more openly critical and cynical, Julia keeping such comments more hidden and modest, but also far more willing to stand up for herself to and in front of Chief. (Prominent examples seen in S02E02,4 & 8, S03E02) Chase was aware of his poor behaviour but found it justified in a sense that he truly believed she was misguided, that he was correct about Carmen Sandiego, now knowing she clearly was right all along. (This does not excuse/justify his rudeness in any sense, but can explain it.)

They would be a great team, now finally on the same page but unfortunately separated. Julia has the nohow and Chase possess the drive to make it happen. They do share those traits, each more natural at one over the other. Neither are willing to give up without a fair fight, and proudly declare and justify themselves at every turn, both proud individuals. (Julia far more modest in comparison). If they worked together, who knows the possibilities, if they can change ACME’s stance on Carmen Sandiego or if they decide to abandon it altogether and aid the other fighter of VILE, Team Red. Either way, it was clear Julia could not do it all on her own and I’m sure we will see Chase realise and suffer the same fate. Hopefully reasoning that he needs help, not getting it to form anyone else, remembering Julia, seeking her out and bringing her back to ACME.

Her reason for leaving ACME was that her heart was no longer in it, her passion snubbed out. Her work now directly contradicts her beliefs which are doubted by all those around her at every turn.

A sad but visibly true thing as no one else in ACME was willing to consider her way any longer, her opinion not shared by anyone else, a very demoralising thing to go through. She was always fighting and standing up on her own.

With Chase now sharing this opinion, the burden of seeing and knowing the truth, it will be easier to stand behind with full conviction, to attempt to highlight the innocence Carmen Sandiego has hidden in plain sight, together. Only time will tell how it all plays out.

[stillness-in-green]

Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Introduction and Part One)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front

INTRODUCTION

The title states my premise here: the breezy way My Hero Academia presents and resolves the mass arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front is ludicrous. If taken as presented and allowed to stand without being further addressed, it serves as a breaking point from which the series will be incredibly hard-pressed to recover. Why, you ask?

From a logistical standpoint, it strains credulity. From an ethical standpoint, it suggests deeply troubling problems with the state of Hero Society. From a thematic standpoint, it unravels whole portions of the narrative’s spine. I’ll be looking at each of these facets in turn to discuss the questions they raise which My Hero Academia has not yet seen fit to answer. Many in fandom don’t seem to be thinking about it too hard, so I’d like to lay out—in exhaustive detail—all the reasons I find this plot element so wildly out of touch with causal reality.

Please note that while they are discussed when relevant, this essay is not principally about the named characters in the League of Villains or the erstwhile high command of the Metahuman Liberation Army. The sorts of consequences Shigaraki Tomura or Re-Destro would and should be facing in a courtroom are orders of magnitude beyond what Random Liberation Warrior X would be, but it’s the mass numbers of Random Liberation Warrior Xs that this essay is most concerned with, as they are the ones most in danger of being swept under a rug and forgotten by the series in its current state.

Further, be advised that this essay in its full form is both very long (about 21K words excluding Sources and Further Reading) and will contain extensive discussion of real-life Japan—comparisons to historical events, minutiae of its legal and carceral systems, and general cultural views on criminality. This will include references to imprisonment, government oppression, and incidents of terrorism both real and in the context of My Hero Academia.

Being as it is about quite a recent event in the series, it will also contain heavy spoilers all the way up through the most recent chapter as of this writing, Chapter 310. It likewise contains spoilers for the spin-off series My Hero Academia: Vigilantes up through Chapter 95.

The essay will be posted in parts on tumblr and in full on AO3. For the tumblr posting, I will provide links to other tumblr posts as I reference them; however, as I would like this to actually show up in the tags, outside links containing my sources and further reading will be provided in a separate post following the conclusion of the essay.

Lastly, I spent an entire month writing this as a fan who is sympathetic to the villains in general and the MLA in particular. If your response to the very concept of this essay is anything to the tune of, “Who cares what happens to a bunch of disgusting quirk eugenicists?” know that you and I have radically different views on the MLA, and the role of the justice system in general. You are, of course, welcome to read the essay anyway, but, having said my piece about the MLA and their relationship with quirk supremacy elsewhere, I will not be engaging with arguments or gotchas on that subject here.

PART ONE: The Facts at Hand

Before we get too deep into things, let’s lay out the basic facts: how many people are actually involved in the arrest, as well as some comparisons to real-life events to contextualize that number and provide some referents for the issues the arrest raises.

Re-Destro gives the numbers of the Metahuman Liberation Army as 116,516. A lot of people go on to die in Deika, though we’re never given a solid count. The biggest batch we see killed in a single go are the press of sixty or so people Shigaraki decays, then the sixteen-ish Toga drops, though some of those might possibly have had quirks that allowed them to survive. Any number of people certainly died as well simply in the moments we didn’t see, and who even knows how many were caught in the radius of Shigaraki’s last attack.

Further, there may well have been a measure of organization bleed when the MLA became the PLF (though I imagine trying to leave was a very dangerous proposition, giving an additional reason to stick it out on top of the general cult-like mindset the MLA displays); likewise, I find it hard to believe that there wouldn’t have been some deaths at the Gunga Villa, be it from Gigantomachia’s departure, Geten cutting loose, or combatants—be they hero or comrade—overcompensating somewhat in the middle of a chaotic melee.

I suspect it’s overestimating the depletion, but for the purposes of simplicity, let us call it 115,000 remaining members at the time of the raid.[1]

We are told that, in all, 16,929 people were captured at the villa—just about 17,000. 132 escaped in the confusion; this is a fairly negligible number, save for the fact that it includes high-ranking advisors, but not Machia and those of the Front that were with him.

We are further told, and I quote, “Their bases scattered around the country were hit too, and the sympathizers rounded up.” Horikoshi did not provide any solid numbers for this,[2] but if we’re to assume that it is just the rest of the group (more on the logistics of that bit of spycraft later), “the sympathizers” would be 98,000 additional people.

However, 98,000 may be a significant underestimation. It’s based, after all, on a number Re-Destro cites to describe “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action.” This begs the question: is Re-Destro quoting the entire membership of the group, or only those who actually are ready to take action? In other words, does his number account for non-combatants? Is he counting young children? I tend to assume the MLA doesn't have a retirement age as such,[3] but if they do, does his number account for the elderly?

How many more people might be “sympathizers” to the PLF insomuch as they are e.g. the six-month-old infant daughter of an MLA couple? What about the ninety-year-old man in the retirement home whose only real act of war these days is tying up the phone line at City Hall to complain about repressive quirk use laws? How about the fired-up fifteen-year-old that was going to get their official code name next month, just in time to join the first wave of attacks? If he’s being literal in his usage of “warrior,” the actual count of the MLA could easily be twice as high as the number he actually gives.

But okay, maybe Re-Destro’s number does include absolutely everyone. Maybe he’s just being rhetorical—maybe, in his mind, even the six-month-old is waiting to rise to action; she’s just going to have to wait a bit longer than the rest, is all. For simplicity’s sake, let’s stick with the numbers we have: a low-end of 17,000, a high-end of 115,000, captured not merely in a single day, but allegedly in the span of a few hours.

I’m sure I don’t need to stress that that is a lot of people. But how many people is it, practically speaking? Is there a precedent? Anything we can look to for guidance on how this kind of thing would go in real life?

Comparative Analogues

The PLF is tricky to categorize for the purposes of real-life comparison, especially compared to how they’re treated in-universe. In some lights, they resemble a protest movement; in others, a terrorist group. Just looking at the way the government reacts to them—and certainly in terms of their combat capabilities—they might as well be an all-out insurrectionist uprising! Below, I’ll examine a handful of historical incidents that cover that spectrum; they will continue to provide useful reference points throughout the rest of this essay.

The March 15 Incident

In the first half of the 20th century, Japan saw a huge uptick in socialist and communist activity, much to the general dismay of the ruling powers. In response, they passed a series of laws commonly referred to as the Peace Preservation Laws, designed to better enable authorities to suppress political dissent and freedom of speech, particularly that of leftists and labor movements.

The Japanese Communist Party was founded in 1922, but outlawed in 1925. This merely drove members underground, however, from which position they pointed supporters towards the numerous other parties with more legally tolerated leftist policies that had cropped up in the wake of the JCP’s dissolution. Following the February 1928 General Election (the first in Japan held with universal male suffrage), those parties supported by the JCP saw enormous gains in representation in Japan’s National Diet. Alarmed, the Prime Minister declared the mass arrest of known communists and suspected communist sympathizers. Accordingly, on March 15, 1,600 people were arrested throughout Japan.

Over the course of twenty years, some 70,000 people would be arrested under the auspices of the Peace Preservation Laws, the majority of them in 1925 through 1936. The laws would eventually be repealed by American occupation forces after WWII, and the JCP allowed to operate openly once again.

The Rice Riots

In 1918, an inflation spiral had driven the price of rice out of control, exacerbating economic insecurity and hardship. Farmers were being paid a pittance of the market value of their crop by rice buyers and government agents, while urban consumers were being charged an exorbitant price for the staple food, as well as a great many other consumer goods, and their own rents. In response, a series of riots ripped across Japan in late July through September. Beginning with peaceful protesting in a small fishing town in Toyama Prefecture, the unrest escalated to involve riots, strikes, looting, even bombing in demonstrations that reached major cities like Tokyo and Osaka. The scope was and remains unprecedented in modern Japanese history, seeing some 25,000 people arrested.

The Sarin Gas Attacks

If you’ve heard of any of them, it’s probably this one. On March 20, 1995, members of the cult Aum Shinrikyo released sarin gas on five different Tokyo Metro trains in the middle of morning rush hour. Thirteen people were killed and over 5500 injured, about a fifth of them moderately to severely so. If not for small errors in the production of the gas and the rudimentary distribution method thereof, loss of life might easily have been catastrophically higher.

Aum Shinrikyo was a doomsday cult, but the motives for that particular attack were much baser than bringing about the Apocalypse: at the time, the organization was under police investigation for its involvement in the kidnapping of a public official. Its leader, Asahara Shoukou, hoped that the attack would divert police’s attention from a planned raid.

It did not do so; police executed raids on numerous of the cult’s compounds, arresting many of its senior members both immediately and over the course of the following months as the investigation unfolded. In all, over 200 members were arrested of an organization that counted its membership prior to the attack as numbering 11,000 people in Japan.[4]

The February 26 Incident

There have been a significant number of uprisings and violent protests in Japan’s modern history; when looking for a representative example, I focused my attention on the military coups of the 1930s and 40s, largely because they took place in what was closest to the modern Japanese legal context.[5] Of that subset, I chose the February 26 Incident for the severity of the government response. The others disintegrated before they could be properly carried out or were met with sympathy for the dissidents despite the obvious illegality of their actions. The February 26 Incident, however, was when they finally became too troublesome to dismiss, and the Emperor himself ran out of patience.

In this period, the Japanese military had become drastically factionalized into two main groups—an ultra-nationalist group, largely powered by a group of young officers, which supported the Emperor and wanted to purge Japan of Western influences, and a more moderate group mainly defined by their opposition to the above faction.[6] Occurring in 1936, the February 26 Incident involved the young officers, believing that they had tacit approval from higher-ranked officers of their own faction, launching assassination attempts against the nationalists’ most prominent enemies in the government (six assorted Ministers and former Ministers in the Emperor’s Privy Council and the Diet) and a bid to seize control of the administrative center of the capital and the Imperial Palace, after which they planned to demand the dismissal of more officers and the selection of a new Cabinet.

The seven ringleaders had convinced eighteen other officers to lend their forces to the attempted coup, a total of around 1,500 men, calling themselves the Righteous Army. Several of their assassination attempts failed, however, and while they succeeded at taking the Prime Minister’s residence and the Ministry of War, they did not manage to secure the Palace. The outraged Cabinet demanded the Emperor take a hard line with the rebels, and by the 29th, the Righteous Army was surrounded by 20,000 government troops and 22 tanks. In this hopeless situation, the officers dismissed their troops; two committed suicide (a third attempted it unsuccessfully) and the remainder were arrested by military police.

International Examples

For obvious reasons, I prefer to limit my examples to events that happened in Japan. However, I will also be briefly referring to a few international incidents of mass arrest, taking place in India, the U.S., and Egypt, respectively.

In the following parts, I'll use these facts and comparative analogues to take a closer look at what readers were told became of the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Part Two

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

Footnotes (Part One)—

[1] Over three months’ time, they likely gained some new blood also, simply in the course of their usual recruitment tactics. You don’t get an underground organization that size by sitting back and waiting for people to come to you, after all. I don’t know a practical way to calculate that, though, so just bear it in mind for when I talk about new members later.

[2] Possibly because he was aware that 17,000 people captured in one fell swoop was difficult enough to swallow without adding on more than five times that number.

[3] We do, after all, see some very aged people fighting in the streets of Deika.

[4] They were considerably more international than you may have heard. They had 50,000 members at the time, some 30,000 of them based in Russia.

[5] The Meiji Constitution was ratified in 1889; universal suffrage (for men) was granted in 1925. The modern constitution was enacted in 1947.

[6] More moderate, mind, in the context of the Imperial Japanese military. Neither of these factions had any time whatsoever for leftist movements, hence all those suppressive crackdowns.

[parcoeurs]

Extremely fascinated by your wag AU tag 👀.

thanks bestie so am i.

okay lmao so this isn't an actual fic that'll ever be written but. i was talking to my friend about it who still hasn't finished dts season 3 unfortunately but it means that i've switched around ages and years etc. i promise this has the potential to be a fun and sexy time but there's just s o much background shit that needs to be discussed. tw for mentions of irl deaths etc:

but pierre & charles meeting when they're 5-6 (which is what i think charles actually says irl but someone said it might've been closer to when they were 10-11? regardless.) and charles' dad passes away when they're 9-10, and jules when they're 13-14 and charles quits racing then. (fyi i know that irl jules passed away first)

he thinks about quitting when his dad passes away but keeps going with help from jules. so when the accident etc happens, it's not even like an active decision he ponders. he just knows there's no way he'll race again.

and pierre's been with him throughout everything, his best friend who he can talk to when he can't bear looking at his own family. so he doesn't understand when pierre tells him he's going to keep racing. when charles had told him he was never going to get into a kart ever again, pierre had nodded, grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. important to note that they're barely teenagers rn so yes charles feels betrayed that pierre isn't feeling the same things he is and isn't choosing the same future for himself etc.

they have a huge fight, lots of crying, lots of dramatic teenage angst. but it ultimately ends with charles shutting pierre out of his life. which is easier said than done when it's your best friend whose family is super close with yours. but it works because pierre is off racing around the world and charles has done all he can to never have to think about that stuff.

so charles goes to school, is doing uni somewhere in europe. studies something generic like business or maybe if i'm feeling suuuuper indulgent i will have him major in environmental studies like moi <3 pointedly does not come to monaco during grand prix weekend or the week before or the week after.

and then anthoine passes away too. (they're 20-21 now)

they see each other again at the funeral but don't talk, they meet up afterwards. pierre breaking down in charles' arms, clutching at his back, telling him he was right. pierre should've quit, he can't do this anymore either. they haven't said a word to each other in 7 years but charles still knows pierre, and knows that this isn't actually what pierre wants. or what he should do. (charles vaguely knows pierre's in f1 but doesn't know he's with redbull, doesn't know redbull's the top team etc)

"you can still do this, you will," charles tells him.

"not without you again."

so then comes the challenge of mending their relationship while still working through the shared trauma, and the Layers of past trauma. and also just the general awkwardness that comes with a friendship breakup/makeup situation you know! they can't just act like nothing happened but would it be easier that way?

they start texting first, then they play fifa or cod together. (sometimes pierre's british friend lewis joins too.)

slowly slowly slowly, they become friends again and then inseparable too. maybe even closer than they were before and charles only now realizes how much he missed pierre. while pierre still can't believe he has charles back now, it's as good as he let himself imagine.

the part i'm unsure about is if i would want pierre's career trajectory to be the same or not. because i think the demotion adds SUCH a painful but interesting aspect to his ~storyline. but ultimately i think maybe he just doesn't get the second seat immediately. spends more years with toro rosso/alpha tauri before getting "called up" (sorry i have no idea what the proper terminology is haha ignore the nba/nhl terms).

he invites charles to his first race in the red bull and charles says no. immediately. pierre's quiet on the other side of the phone, internally thinking he messed this up somehow. he thought things were going well and he takes this as charles doesn't want to see him. but he knows there's a lot more that's stopping charles and he also knows charles will definitely pull back if pierre asks about the other stuff. so he moves right along, asking charles about school, the weather, and tries not to let it show in his voice that he misses his best friend and needs him too.

"i'm going to try to watch," charles says, after pierre's yawned goodnight through the phone and is waiting for him to hang up. because you know pierre's not going to hang up first.

"what?"

"the race. i'm going to try. goodnight!" mentally charles slams the phone shut but really he just smashes at the red button before shoving it under his bed and looking at his hands trying to get answers for what he just did.

his only relief is that he didn't promise pierre he would watch, just that he would try. couldn't even choke out a, "good luck." (insert long paragraph about charles letting pierre down or thinking he has).

he only watches qualifying. pierre p3. already knows on saturday that there's no way he can watch the actual race.

but on sunday when he's supposed to be going over his notes for his climate change science & policy course (yes.... i did it...) he finds himself with his heart in his mouth refreshing formula1 dot com. watches the random names move up and down while keeping his eyes on 10 - gasly. (starts shaking for a second when he sees pierre's name drop until the IN PIT sign comes up across his name. fellas the thing about triggers is-- anyways.)

the scariest part is that by the time he's scrolled through all of red bull's socials to look at pictures of pierre on the podium (he finished p2 sorry i know this truly does not matter), he's forgotten about the race. the anxiety sits small in the back of his throat, his happiness for pierre is bright and loud in front of him. charles sends him a message, asking him to call whenever he can and adds a blue & red heart emoji which feels like a Big Step. but basically pierre calls and acts like nothing has happened since the last time they talked. mentions the breakfast he had in detail as if he didn’t get a podium in his first race with red bull. finally with a big team. but charles embarrassingly realizes that maybe his text didn't exactly imply in literally any way whatsoever that he knows the results of the race and was trying to congratulate pierre with this call. charles probably feels so embarrassed at this point but somehow still can't manage to say anything about the race until the next day maybe.

maybe texts pierre, good job. or, you were great. or something about him and not the race. or maybe reposts a picture from red bull but not one of pierre in his car, pointedly. only one of him on the podium. and pierre probably reposts it with the squid emoji and/or my favourite sentence in the world, merci petit calamaro.

charles cries when he reads it.

not to be lazy now but [insert 10k words of them building their friendship. meeting up in monaco with both of their families. meeting in milan or london or paris idk where pierre would live. but he flies charles out. not on a private jet because charles flat out refused lol. not because he's an environmentally conscious king he's just too, embarrassed? overwhelmed? by pierre doing Things Like That for him. even though he wants it lol. like when he graduates he's soooo annoyed that pierre couldn't come celebrate immediately because it was race week. but when he comes home his apartment is filled with flowers (roses, his favourite) and balloons and a giant teddy bear as tall as charles. and he DOES post 12 instagram stories to go with the other 30 from his other friends congratulating him. so yeah charles goes through a lot of personal growth and therapy. to the point where he's watching pierre race again, and waiting for him to invite him to a race again!!! do not even think about actual dates i'm fucking begging you but the one he goes to is monza :))))]

ultimately charles' path to understand/accepting/moving on from, his trauma, happens once he has pierre back in his life. it's also encouraged by pierre, but it's also not entirely because of him. not sure how to word that but yeah. these things are happening at the same time but charles still has to go through them by himself.

pierre takes him on romantic dates all around the world and charles doesn't realize that's what they are. fully in his bestie vibes only mood while pining for pierre in a way he doesn't even quite understand. almost a self deprecating, jeez whoever gets to date pierre is going to be so lucky :/

fanpage on ig: met pierre's alleged bf he's so pretty and sweet, i complimented his shoes and he was so nice. charles reading that: i didnt know he was dating someone :( why wouldn't he tell me :( well at least someone complimented my shoes today :(

pierre doesn't necessarily think they're dating, but he does know charles doesn't quite realize what they're doing so he's just waiting for him to come to terms with it.

not to give this au 10 different subplots but yeah that miscommunication plot becomes our prize for surviving through the first part of this.

but yeah at the last race of the year, that pierre wins because i said so? charles finds him before he goes on to the podium, kisses his helmet. says i love you, i'm so proud of you.

THEN, finally, charles does become pierre's wag. we made it kids. we did it joe.

[kerwritesthings]

Subway Surfing

Summary: When a literal run in changes the course of a day, let alone of a life…

Word Count: little bit over 2.2k

Warning: adorable, fluff and funny

Author Notes: A bit of a birthday surprise for @fallinallincurls​ - Happy, happy birthday Bre! Big birthday deserves nothing more than the start of a new verse for the hockey boy I forced at you last year. Umm sorry not sorry.

Things have been a lot of not ok around here for a good clip, I’ve been really not ok. It’s been hard. Writing hasn’t come, life has just kept throwing me down and down. Trying to fight the way back up, not easy but I’m trying. This was a nice way to try to get back some of that light. I had been poking at this for a beat, the idea gnawing at me with some pieces written, notes scribbled around, but birthday sparkle helped get it over the finish line. Part two already has some bones, as does part three - but please to bear with me if you will.

You hate that it’s a Saturday and you’re trekking your way into the office. It’s finally truly fall in the city and it’s a gorgeous day. The last thing you want is to be stuck at your desk behind a computer screen. You want a hot spiked apple cider, a book, a good playlist and your plaid blanket on the grass in Central Park.

It looks like the rest of the city is awake early on this day for the same reason. The subway, which normally is slightly more bearable at this time on a weekend, is the furthest thing from that. It’s packed with people including the grimy, sweat-ladened guy in the chopped-up joggers and crocs who keeps trying to “accidentally” bump and grab you every chance he gets.

The next stop, you try to move but too many people are coming on and off as the doors only quickly open and shut. You just end up jostling as the car jolts in its start. You can’t fall forward. It would land you right into the situation you’re trying to flee. Instead, you try to lean back but you slip. Fully prepared to wipe out, a hand comes gently to steady your elbow while another holds you at your shoulder.

You hear a mish mosh of “careful there” and “are you ok” crossing together as you get back steady on your feet.

“Thanks for saving me for either face planting or landing in that sweaty creep’s grasp,” you say, sliding your bag back securely on your shoulder before turning.

You know those faces. You’ve seen them on billboards and most definitely on TV. Shit, shit and shit. Of course, the two star, absolutely adorable bestie forwards from the New York Islanders have come to your rescue. This would be your luck. At least you pulled yourself somewhat together for this Saturday jaunt to the office. You keep a straight face, smiling normally and not letting anything on.

“Couldn’t let you risk that. He’s been a bit of an ass since he got into the car. We said if he were still acting a fool at next stop, we would jump in. Plotted a rescue mission and everything,” the one explains, hand running through his hair.

“His mission was to cross his arms and give him the eye,” the other mocks, shoving at his friend’s shoulder. “I mean I guess he can look threatening, like a puppy maybe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. These two are exactly as they’ve seemed in interviews. Mathew and Anthony really are as thick as thieves.

“That sarcastic asshole is Anthony and I’m Mat. We’ll stay close until he leaves, or you need to,” he remarks.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s the subway. That happening unfortunately is just another day that ends in y, you know?” you explain. “I also don’t want to take up more of your time or ruin any of your plans.”

“You deal with that? Often?” Anthony asks, eyes a little wide.

“Welcome to New York,” you shrug. “Not every day thankfully. But it’s often enough.”

“I hope you know, that wasn’t, and we weren’t...” Mat tries to stumble through.

“No, no, no. Totally. I didn’t get that whatsoever,” you respond. “Not that from either of you guys. Promise. It’s sweet to know there are still gentlemen out in this world.”

They both get a little bashful smile across their pretty faces.

“Glad to help,” they practically say in unison which causes you to bark out a laugh.

Time to shoot your shot, you think to yourself. Worse case, it’s a moment you get to have for a fun bar story.

“I think we need to become friends, boys,” you start. “Or at the very least, I owe you a drink for saving me.”

“Yes,” Anthony jumps in, nodding his head with a wide grin. “You should come to brunch with us.”

“If I didn’t have to get to the office I would,” you reply. “Unfortunately, it’s stuff I need done before a Monday morning meeting.”

“Office work on a Saturday? That’s no fun. Play hooky! We can promise a bottomless brunch,” he teases.

“Maybe after though?” Mat chimes in with a soft smile. “Get what you need to done, give you something to look forward to after?”

“I don’t want to ruin whatever plans you’ve had for the day,” you begin before the boys both shake their heads.

“It’s just brunch and shopping to try to get this one to up his style game,” Mat chides while Anthony rolls his eyes.

You bite your lip fighting back yet another giggle. These two, at the very least, would truly make some good friends. You dig around in your tote, finally snatching your card holder.

“Not sure how long I’ll be stuck. I’m hoping only a couple hours. But. If you’re serious. Text or call me,” you say, handing one off to each of them.

They both nod, each pocketing your card as the subway comes to a halt.

“Oh shit, this stop is mine. Thanks again for the soft hands and clutch assist guys,” you wink, dashing away quickly before the doors close.

“What is my life,” you mutter, the boys waiving as the train pulls away. “I need to get to the office.”

“Ok, I think that’s the first time we’ve ever had someone realize who we are in public, without a whole big scene or making a blatant ass grab type pass. We’re keeping her. Plus, you like her,” Anthony teases, shoving at Mat’s shoulder as they hit the sidewalk coming up from the subway.

“I could say the same thing to you Tito,” he snarks back, shoving in return. “You were batting the eyes. I’m not blind.”

“She seems cool and yeah she’s pretty, but I’m not jaw drop like you were when you saw her,” he chirps back. “I was trying to get a rise out of you dude. And it worked, you actually stepped up the game. And now you have her info. Don’t make me text her too. Cause I will.”

You’re just about to settle into your email with a cup of what your office likes to consider coffee when your phone starts buzzing about in quick succession.

“Looks like this is a thing,” you mumble to yourself, lips quirking up into a half smile as you formulate a reply.

“You knew?” Anthony grins over his beer. “From the start?”

You nod, sipping at your cider. You pushed through your work to be able to meet the two downtown at this tiny spot in NoLiTa that was tucked away from the crazy of the neighborhoods it was snug between. It wasn’t as sleek as you thought they’d choose; it was something much more comfortable and lower key.

“Really?” Mat questions.

“Yep. One of you not with the other? I would have had to do double take. I would have noticed, but probably would have questioned. However, the two peas in a pod together? That was a no brainer,” you explain, fighting back a bit of a giggle.

“You didn’t say anything,” Mat replies.

“How many times does that happen and it turn into a thing or a bit of a scene?” you circle the bottom of the cider bottle around on the tabletop. “There was also no point to, either. You were just trying to enjoy the day and you were being super kind keeping me from wiping out. I get it’s New York, so it’s a less likely thing but it still happens.  So, if I could keep it from another one of those moments...”

“Told you Barzy, we’re keeping her,” Anthony taps his beer against yours. “Welcome to the crazy, Evangeline.”

You can’t help but tinge a little pink.

“Well then. If that’s the case, my friends call me Evie,” you smile.

“Evie,” Mat lets the name roll around his tongue.

A couple rounds later, of both beers and darts, you realize how tight the two are and more so, how easily you could become entangled in friendship with them. And you do. Texts and memes and random photos fly back and forth, you all hang when all your schedules align. You’re also fostering relationships with each of them separately too; sharing recipes of things you want to try to bake and longing about the places you miss in Quebec with Anthony while Mat was trying to teach you more about basketball (with little luck) and in turn you trying to expand what he calls music and what actually is music. You also share some of your favorite places in the city that the two really didn’t know about. It was easy with them, together and individually but you were getting a bit more of a tug, a bit of a warmer burn with Mat.

A Saturday morning a few weeks after the afternoon drinking funtivities, you wake up to a few texts, photos really, from the group chat with the boys. First is a pair of tickets and passes to their game that night. Second is two jerseys: a blue Barzal and a white Beauvillier. The third, a text from Mat.

Choose carefully…

We’re also not taking no for an answer. You’re coming. Game and drinks after.

“Oh shit,” you exhale, quickly jumping to your closet.

“Beth?” you call out from your room, tossing through your clothes looking for two specific items. “Please tell me you don’t have plans tonight.”

“Hot date with a bottle of pinot noir and trash tv, why?” she pokes her head into your room.

“Good. You do now. You’re coming with me to the Islanders game tonight,” you mutter, flipping through more hangars.

“Wait excuse me?” she flops down, cross-legged on the end of your bed.

“So, I may have left a tiny detail out from when I told you about the two cute guys who saved me on the subway,” you explain.

“Ok and?” Beth prompts you to continue.

“They’re Islanders…” you trail off.

“What?” she screams tossing one of your throw pillows at you.

“I’m trying to not make a big deal, cause you know. But, at the same time, well you know,” you reply, finally finding the long sleeve you wanted to wear as well as one of your hockey jerseys.

“You need to give me more than this, Evie,” Beth pries.

You lean back against your closet door.

“It was Anthony Beauvillier and Mat Barzal,” you say.

Beth screams and throws another pillow at you.

“You just casually didn’t tell me that you met the damn Calder winner and his like bromance bestie,” she laments. “Evie, what the fuck?”

“This is exactly why,” you sigh. “Like it started out as ok I could have a moment, a cool story to tell. But honestly, they’re two really great guys.”

“You’re not telling me something, I can see it in that wistful look,” she pokes. “Oh god you’re sweet on one of them, aren’t you?”

You shake your head at Beth, not acknowledging the question. Shoving her over a little, you fold the jersey on the bed next to her, so the logo was perfectly visible, but no giveaway of the name on the back or numbers on the sleeves.  

Fine if you two summon I guess I must go. I’m bringing Beth, my roommate, so you need to behave. She’s already a pretty big hockey fan so I apologize now in advance for any of her crazy. She’s great but gets excited. Also, easy answer: where’s the Ebs jersey? ;) Or I can always wear this one.

You snap a quick shot of your Dallas Stars jersey.

Mat of course chimes in first.

That’s cold Evie, really cold. And that thing? That’s even worse. Who is on there? Do I wanna know?

Then Anthony.

Non. Non. Non. Why do you even have that jersey!?

“You’ve got that look,” Beth pokes at your thigh. “I’ll leave you be for now. Need to be at the arena what 6? We should leave here at 4:30. Worse case we get there early, we can snag a drink nearby. I don’t trust the train or the subway on a Saturday to be on time. Thanks for bringing me, Roomie. I’m excited and I get to meet these boys of yours.”

I have favorites across the league, you both know I liked the sport well before you two came along. I have the appropriate jerseys for my boys. Well, almost. You guys making me choose is mean af. Rock paper scissors it between you both, whoever wins that’s what I’ll wear.

“Just leave her yours, you know you want to no matter who would win at that little challenge of Evie’s,” Anthony smiles as the text comes through, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “And I know you’d pull shit to do it no matter what. She’s really your girl anyway.”

“What…” Mat starts before Anthony jumps in.

“You know it’s never been like that with her for me, dude. She’s awesome and I’m so glad to have her as a friend,” he replies. “You though? Since moment one, she’s been something else for you. You need to make a move. You’ve got game, I’ve seen it.”

“Evie’s. She’s Evie. There’s more there...” he leans back into his locker.

“More reason to then Barzy,” he volleys back. “Come on, get your shit together. We can drop everything to leave for her on the way out.”

[cotncandyboifics]

A Lovely Night: Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~2k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating,(will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: kissing, swearing, subtle s-xual innuendo, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is the starring role chapter! If that makes sense... after this I'm kind of making up the plot stream-of-consciousness style. I'm pretty excited to get CH 5 out.

...

Virgil knew this whole thing was a mistake.

Roman had practically begged him to break out his skirt, fishnet, and heels. He'd only just bought them, and Roman was entirely too enticed by the idea of his boyfriend wearing them. He was very nervous - he'd never worn heels before, and never a skirt out in public - but he just couldn't bring himself to say no to his love.

And so, here he stood, leaning on the railing over a valley as the sun began reaching to kiss the horizon. He'd worn his favorite ripped crop top and leather jacket, fishnets reaching across his exposed navel, down beneath his plaid purple skirt and all the way into the black high heels he wore. He'd done his makeup a little nicer than usual, winging his eyeliner and getting a bit of purple sparkles in with his eyeshadow. his hair curled and twined haphazardly over his forehead and eyes as he watched lights of houses in the valley flicker on.

This was meant to be a special date, just Janus, Roman and Virgil. Roman had planned it, and kept the events a complete secret to both his boyfriends, simply telling them when and where to meet him. Virgil checked his phone; it was two minutes to seven, the agreed upon time. Virgil tended to arrive early to most things, since he was usually anxious that he'd be late even when getting a 30 minute head start. He passed his phone between his hands, the screen flickering on when his thumb accidentally tapped it, and a picture of Roman kissing a smirking Janus on the cheek greeted him. He felt his cheeks heat up, and slid his phone back into his pocket.

A clicking noise sounded from a little ways away, and Virgil turned to seek its source.

Janus was walking up, the heels of his black and white dress shoes clicking on the pavement. He wore a black wool suit with golden accents, a red dress shirt with subtle frills and a black bowtie. On his head rested his favorite bowler hat, concealing the majority of his golden curls - some of which escaped anyway, tucked neatly against his forehead and over his ears. He smirked and bowed as he approached Virgil, dipping his head and holding one golden gloved hand fisted tight against the small of his own back. Virgil scoffed and shoved his shoulder, and Janus stumbled a bit, snickering back.

Janus joined Virgil at the railing, looking out at the valley and the setting sun. They stood in a comfortable silence for a while, Virgil needing to consistently will himself not to rest his head on Janus' shoulder that was painfully close but felt so far.

After long enough, Janus cleared his throat. "Where might our dear prince be?" He ran his fingers down the underside of one of his lapels, not yet tearing his gaze from the pink clouds surrounding the sunset. Virgil opted to check his phone.

"Uh..." He couldn't form the words, so he simply presented his phone to Janus. A single text had come through.

Romano<3 Hey babe, I'm running kinda late. Why don't you and Jannie entertain each other until I get there? Sorry. Love you <3<3<3

Janus hummed, eyebrows raised. "Well it appears we're stuck with each other for the time being." He smirked slightly, and Virgil scoffed, bumping shoulders with him.

"What a waste," Virgil mused under his breath after a few more minutes of them staring out at the sunset together.

"Ah..." Janus glanced at Virgil briefly. "Such a shame. What a lovely view. It's practically hand drawn for a couple." He sighed, a little too dramatically, and Virgil furrowed his brow at him. "If only Roman were here. Unfortunately, you're not really my type, darling."

"Really." Virgil spat, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

"Alas it's only you and I," Janus continued, leaning slightly closer to Virgil, "and frankly, we've got no chemistry whatsoever."

"Ah, okay snakey." Virgil bit back, not daring to look at the smirk he was sure was playing on Janus' face. "I think I can make that call, huh? Just because you look all pretty in that polyester suit doesn't-"

"It's wool," Janus interjected in annoyance. Although after a moment he gasped slightly, turning to Virgil fully. "Wait a moment! Did you just call me pretty, Charlie Frown?" He leaned a little too close, and Virgil scrunched his nose, leaning away slightly.

"Stealing Ro's nicknames for me doesn't make you creative," Virgil deflected, smirking right back at Janus.

"Mmm, perhaps not," Janus leaned away, seemingly examining his fingernails through his gloves.

"And for the record, I'm also feeling no chemistry."

"Is that so?" Janus' attention was back on Virgil, and their eyes locked in an intense and silent battle. Virgil wouldn't back down, just as he never had before, but this time he wasn't sure what he was trying to prove. He straightened his posture, making his chest puff out slightly. Even if Janus was taller than him, he wouldn't shy away from a confidence contest. No, not even if his crush was literally looming over him, not even if he could swear he just saw Janus' eyes flick to his lips for an imperceptible millisecond.

"Yeah. It is." He leaned his head forward, almost bumping his forehead on Janus'. Had he ever seen Janus' face so red?

"So you agree, then," Janus spoke, voice ever so slightly unsteady, but he didn't dare back down. Even if he was nose to nose with a boy he was in love with.

"Yeah, I guess I do." Virgil scrunched his nose again. This time, when Janus' eyes flicked to his lips, it wasn't deniable. He watched it happen, clear as day.

And so, he took a chance.

He took one step forward, not moving his head at all but nearly pushing his body against Janus'. Janus responded in kind, taking a step forward as well, and they were chest to chest. Virgil reached up and gripped Janus' lapels. They were impressively soft, and Virgil realized Janus hadn't just been bragging; it was in fact a wool suit. Janus' hands came to Virgil's hips. Virgil pressed their foreheads together, and didn't dare look away from Janus' eyes. They both breathed on each other, caught up in the heat of the moment without even needing to move with each other.

They'd both been waiting for this for so long.

Slowly, Janus' arms wrapped around Virgil's waist, and Virgil tilted his jaw up slightly. Janus met him halfway, immediately initiating a passionate, openmouthed kiss. Virgil's arms wrapped around Janus' neck, and Janus held him as close against himself as he physically could.

Virgil's mind was exploding, and so was Janus'. Neither of them could believe that this was really real. But they were both too afraid to break the kiss to make sure that it was, so they just kept kissing.

Hands wandered as they did, and Virgil had his arms wrapped beneath Janus' and around his back, both of them pulling each other against themselves as snugly as they could. Neither could get enough of this feeling they'd been chasing for so many years, and the fact that it had all culminated into this moment felt intoxicating in a way neither could describe.

Eventually things slowed down, and they went from lovingly tongue battling to trading gentle slow pecks, both of them smiling stupidly as they rested their foreheads together once more.

Janus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. "I genuinely thought you two weren't going to stop kissing for a minute there. Jeez."

Janus gasped and Virgil yelped, both of them jumping about a foot in the air and a foot away from each other. Roman, who was sitting on the bench next to them, broke out in laughter.

"Ro you can't sneak up on us like that, man!" Virgil wheezed out though labored breaths, as he tried to calm himself. Janus just stood straight as a pencil with his hands pressed into his face.

After long enough, Roman caught his breath, but he was still smiling so big at his boyfriends. They both looked between Roman and each other, trying desperately to probe the situation without moving a muscle.

Roman brought his hands to his face, fingers curled into happy fists. "Do you know how happy it makes me that you two finally realized?" Roman practically squealed, and if it were even possible, Virgil's face went even redder. Janus collected himself, and cleared his throat.

"Well hello, Roman." He opened his mouth to say more, but the words wouldn't come. He kept glancing to Virgil, who had taken to staring at the floor.

Roman looked between the two of them for a moment. "Oh you big buffoons. Talking always has been hard for the two of you, huh? Come here, my loves." He patted the bench on either side of him, and his boyfriends came at his call, settling in with their thighs against Roman's. "Now hmm, how should we start... I suppose you can fill me in on what I missed?" he looked between them. "Surely you didn't simply see each other in your lovely-" Roman made a point to look Virgil up and down slowly, "-outfits," And Janus as well, "And just decide to attach at the lips immediately? That sounds like something I'd do, more so than either of you." Janus chuckled, and kissed Roman's cheek.

"Well, snakey here decided to make a deal about how pretty the sunset was. And how it was so romantic and all that. And how it was a waste that-" Virgil's snarky explanation was cut off.

"Excuse me, I started it? No no no Virgie," Janus smirked as Virgil's eyes widened at the nickname, "You were the first to make a sly comment about the waste of a romantic view."

"You tell Ro then, if you think you know so much better." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue out at Janus, who hummed a laugh.

"Alright. Well," His smirk was lost then, and he took to adjusting his gloves. "I then made a comment about the lack of chemistry between us, and... And I think Virgie said something about me being pretty," His smirk was no longer lost, and Virgil rolled his eyes to try and distract himself from his heart racing in his chest. "And... I'm not sure. We got... lost in the moment." Janus smiled then. A genuine smile. It was such a rare sight (as Roman and Virgil often commented to each other) that Roman nudged Virgil's shoulder so he'd look up to see it too. They both gaped at Janus happily for a few moments, before Janus cleared his throat. "So I suppose then that in the end, I was correct that you find me pretty, Virgil?"

Virgil choked on air for a moment. "Sure, yeah, whatever," He spoke under his breath, "but you were also wrong about the chemistry thing. So suck it." Virgil gave him a challenging grin.

"Ayo!" Roman snickered at the innuendo, and Virgil and Janus both rolled their eyes at him.

"But darling," Janus ignored Roman for a moment, and Virgil swore his chest would explode if Janus kept using pet names for him, "You so strongly agreed that there was no chemistry to be found between us, and yet." He held his hands out, gesturing to their circumstances and smirking yet again.

"Oh shut up pretty boy," Virgil growled in annoyance, reaching across Roman's lap and pulling Janus by the cheeks into another kiss.

[initiumseries]

Hey! I love your thoughts on bad tv and I’d love to hear a series wrap up on CAOS if you want to make a post about it. If not no worries and thanks for posting your thoughts on the show over the last year. Loved them and love your blog too!

Thank you!! Sure I can totally do a series wrap up, pretty much right now, in response to this ask. 

So, if I had to distill my issues with this series into a few bullet points it would be: 

-plot -world building/continuity -characters

Plot

CAOS struggles with plot, and I think the biggest reason why, is they just seemed to completely lose track of what the hell they were doing lol. Season 1, ends up being the tightest season because the plot was simple: Sabrina’s dark baptism and her leaving her mortal life behind to become one with witchkind. They beat us to death with the Satan stuff, and they cram as much corny imagery as possible in, even if it doesn’t really make sense. 

why are they having class in a hallway? Do witches not use technology? Why is that blackboard so small? Why isn’t this just a normal classroom setting?

Sabrina’s Season 1 character arc is also clear: she decides, fuck the rules, she’s going to straddle both worlds and everyone’s just gonna have to accept it. It’s not good, but it’s clear. S2, 3, 4 get completely lost in all this other weird stuff. Sabrina is actually not her father’s daughter, but Satan’s, and that plotline goes absolutely nowhere when Sabrina conveniently doubles herself (and experiences 0 consequences for it) and rules hell while also staying in Greendale as herself (seriously, it’s not like satan was dying or anything, he was perfectly fine. For what reason did Sabrina need to become Queen? There’s no answer or explanation for that, she just...did. Ok :/).  Father Blackwood goes apeshit and pulls a Jonestown, for no real reason, CAOS starts leaning heavily into this white feminism stuff (for godsake, the coven kills a DEMON, with the fucking pain of childbirth?! Are you SERIOUS??) Then, s3, it’s about losing their powers because Satan is childish and petty, and a new group of spellcasters are out to kill the witches, and Prudence and Ambrose hunting Blackwood. S4, the eldritch terrors, which honestly, make so little sense, I couldn’t even be bothered. Each season, CAOs falls deeper into the trap of trying to up the ante, make the danger BIGGER, WILDER, more insurmountable, while being completely unprepared to stay consistent with their characters/motivations and undercutting their own BIG ideas with stupid, nonsensical solutions (let me trap this all powerful eldritch terror by taking it to a party, proposing and luring it into a magicked dollhouse...wtf?). 

Worldbuilding/Continuity

What I hate most about these writers for Riverdale and CAOS is that they just don’t feel beholden to being consistent in their worldbuilding and continuity. I don’t find anything cool about kids living in houses with old tvs and rotary phones, but then having a cell phones or wearing modern clothes. Historical anachronisms like that should serve a purpose. 

It COULD be interesting if the conceit is that Zelda and Hilda are OLD, so they take comfort in old things like that, but then that should be specific to the Spellman house, and it should be weird. People should take note of it when they’re there, Sabrina should be conscious of it because she grew up in a time where TVs didn’t look like they were stuck in the 50s. But instead, it’s just...a stupid mess of aesthetic anachronisms for no reason other than they can do it and I just find that to be lazier than utilizing those details in an interesting way. 

In season 1, we get a relatively clear idea that the witches have a certain way of life, that bleeds into season 2. It’s still very sloppy; the anti-pope, using satan where we’d use “god”, introducing the feast and other dangerous parts of being a witch, and essentially just doing the opposite of christianity (except for the racism/sexism ofc. That would require too much thinking I guess). But by season 3, essentially the witches’ way of life have been completely turned upside down. And we never...unpack that. There’s no mourning for literal millennia of supposed tradition, there’s no real floundering or struggling. There are apparently no other adults AT ALL in this magical world outside of Blackwood, Zelda and Hilda, so there’s no real way to get a sense of the REALITY of losing their way of life for these witches, or this world. Is it even a world? Or just a handful of people? Lol. What it means to have to choose a new god to pray to, and is there an divisiveness over who? In Harry Potter, the kids’ parents are tangentially involved when they start pulling their kids out of Hogwarts. Do any of these kids’ parents pull them out of the school when they start praying to Lilith and then Hecate? Do any of the boys have issues with moving from a male god to a female one? Where did all these kids come from if they didn’t have parents and families? Is this witch world just...the school? Why? It would have been interesting watching the witches struggle and scramble to regain their powers while also being hunted by this new, threatening group whose magic seems to be much older, much darker. But instead, they just pivot, and have a fucking picnic before the full moon. 

There’s nothing interesting about characters just constantly pivoting around obstacles without having any real emotional reaction, any real struggles. Obstacles like losing their powers, should be an actual obstacle. They should struggle, there should be emotional weight, and consequences. Instead, Sabrina continues to break rules to suit her agenda, put her friends and family and risk and everyone just...rolls with it. No one is angry at Sabrina for the loss of their powers? Her choice to not become Queen of hell is why they lost their powers right? No one has feelings about that? Sabrina isn’t ostracized? We never see the way these choices, or the overarching plot obstacles impact the characters emotionally. Instead, they’re doing this stuff:

Which is completely ridiculous to me. It all just...HAPPENS. Which is this entire series. Stuff happens, and the characters just, do stuff in reaction to it. Harvey, Theo and Roz are ostensibly human, living human lives. They end up getting pulled into Sabrina’s world, and no one has any strong feelings about that? Harvey’s brother is killed, Roz is turned to stone and Theo talks to his dead great aunt and none of them are haunted by any of that? No? They just decide to create a faux scooby club to fight demons?  Ok. And that cheerleading things is over as quickly as we see it. Stuff like this is insanely frustrating to watch because it makes the show a nonsensical slog to sit through. There’s nothing interesting or engaging to latch onto because they just hammer through it all and make up stupid solutions to get themselves out of the impossible stakes they threw the characters in in the first place. They introduce ideas and discard them just as quickly. An ex:angels show up, start killing people, Sabrina channels satan and kills them, and then that’s the last of those guys. Metatron (jfc even the name is stupid) shows up and is killed just as quickly.  Why bother introducing them then? Why bother do any of the things you’re currently doing in this show if you have no intention of seeing it through? 

Characters 

No one on this show gels, at all.  I don’t believe Theo/Roz/Harvey/Sabrina have been friends for ages. I don’t believe Sabrina and Nick are “end game” (why the hell do we keep saying this riverdale? It’s stupid and senseless). I don’t believe any of these relationships at all. Part of this is because the cast have no chemistry with each other:

they do not look like a friend group or couples at all, these are a bunch of people paired together.

But also because they weren’t consistent at all. 

Father Blackwood went from a witch/warlock purist, to a raging sexist, to a cult leader who killed his followers, to a raging maniac bent on hitler-esque destruction in 4 seasons...for nothing. It served no purpose. He didn’t even DO anything. He was nice to the Eldritch Terrors, and became immortal...for nothing. He killed the coven, for nothing. He killed his wife in childbirth, for nothing. Zelda stole the baby, for nothing. None of that amounted to anything worth while in the entire series. So what was the point?  Zelda marrying Faustus also made no sense and only happened to show JUST how sexist he was! But why? WHY? We don’t receive explanations for character behaviour, and when we do, it still makes no sense. 

Sabrina breaks all these rules and experiences ZERO consequences. At all times, and it makes her a terrible main character. Everyone else abides by the rules but she doesn’t and doesn’t have to pay for that? Why? She straddles both worlds instead of committing to one, and that was the closest we got to seeing consequences for her. Everyone rushes in to help Sabrina break rules instead of holding her accountable for feeling above them. Sabrina creates 2 versions of herself, and they sloppily tie in that all the realms are converging in on each other because of what she did. Except she and Sabrina Morningstar had been hanging out...ostensibly for days/weeks/months (who knows? Not this show!) before we saw any potential issues, and then we end up finding out that this is about the next eldritch terror, not about Sabrina existing as a double in 1 universe. People get upset for a second and then move on to help her. So why have rules in this world at all if it means nothing to break them? 

Nick goes through literal hell, and immediately cheats on Sabrina because of how a man made of clay looked at her. That’s laughable to me. It makes no narrative sense. Their relationship doesn’t even make sense.

Roz and Harvey spend 90% of their time almost fucking. It’s bizarre. Their getting together was random and every single scene with them alone in it is like a precursor to fucking and I don’t get why. This show does not grasp how to build up relationships. Also do these kids not have parents? Theo and Harvey stay having constant sleepovers with their respective partners, in their parents’ houses? Really? At seventeen? Lol k. 

I feel like, if CAOS were better thought out, it could have actually been interesting. But it was just a smorgasbord of stuff happening, and characters doing stuff, and none of that following in any real narrative way. Storytelling has structure for a reason, and a show with a good story structure usually yields an enjoyable watching experience. CAOS is a pretty strong example of how throwing that out and relying so heavily on aesthetics and still taking the show so seriously it’s not even fun terrible, gets you nowhere. Ultimately I’m glad it’s over.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

So due to popular demand I watched episode 2 of Walker for you guys. Part 2 of 2

The pilot was more interesting and it wasn’t interesting. But let’s continue, maybe it’s gonna get better.

So my cookies are ready now! I ate the smallest one to check if they’re good. They are. At least I have my cookies.

Apparently now they have to take a horseriding test. Walker puts the saddle on a horse. But he gets emotional. The flashback music starts. If I see more of these I will develop rabies symptoms. I’m sorry this is what we’re talking about. This is Geneviève Padalecki’s role in this show.

Walker gets on the horse. He touches the bad and the flashback sound effect plays. Rabies. “Walker are you okay?” Ramirez asks. He nods. I’m Fine Lie #9000.

No, wait. He gets off the horse. Dude it’s called handling a loss badly and they have therapists for that. Please go to therapy. There are literal professionals trained to help you with that.

He takes off his hat, which lets you know this is serious.

He goes at the bar run by the lady who was with Emily when she died. He is no longer a ranger until he passes the test. We are happy about it because he is not in the psychological conditions to be a law enforcement officer. Oh, wait, we’re supposed not to be happy about it. Honestly, I’m not sure. Is he supposed to be relatable, or are we supposed to think that he’s screwed up and should not be a cop or a parent right now? Because he’s ostensibly the latter but maybe the intentions of the writers are the former.

He says that James thinks he’s “not quite right in the head”. Mmm… are we supposed to think James is being exaggerated? Because it’s true. He’s not in the conditions to do this job… he needs to get professional mental health support, period.

They reminisce about Emily and Walker repeats the same things that made him think there’s more to the case than it appears, like the way her eyes were closed. The bartender confesses she closed her eyes. Well. That was anticlimactic.

In the meanwhile, Liam the gay brother meets his partner for lunch. He’s attractive. Liam would also be if he weren’t dressed and hair-styled like that. I dunno. The partner wants them to move to New York. They joke about dying of queso.

Augustus goes to take pictures with his mother’s camera and has a glowy flashback of his own. “He’s sensitive. He keeps a lot inside, like his father” his grandma comments to her husband. They talk about Walker fixing the house. “He wants to pick up where he left off” she says. I am hurting inside. Did they write this with the Supernatural pilot script open on the desk!?

Ramirez keeps working the case. Turns out, the horse that died wasn’t the horse it was supposed to be (a famous racing horse). Someone swapped the horses? I don’t care, actually. I’m gonna skip the case details.

Walker eats tortilla chips with queso. And begs Ramirez to let him work on the case because that’s all he knows how to do. That’s stolen from a couple Supernatural episodes when they talk about hunting, but okay.

“You know how you can see a horse’s soul in its eyes?” …no, but okay.

They’ll need to find the mysteriously disappeared horse… which is loose! In the hospital! No, not in the hospital. Just on a road. Best shot in the show, big dark horse walking around Austin.

They need to go find the horse. Obviously Walker volunteers to get the horse. “Might not be a ranger, but I’m still a cowboy”. I’m crying this is so cliché.

You know Walker is cool because he gets out of the truck without using the little step.

It’s so deep.

Oh my god. He. He follows horse dung. It’s. It’s literally a plot point. He tracks the horse following horse poop.

He finds the horse, feeds him a lil sugar cube, puts the reins on him. It’s a beautiful horse. Can’t the show be about this horse?

Billionaire bad guy (owner of the horse, set the fire to pretend the horse was dead because lots of bets were placed on the horse, but the horse was lightly injured so couldn’t win) driving towards his plane to catch his plane to escape. James and Ramirez do a car chase.

Bad guy lackey shoots at their wheels so their car stops. But Walker arrives on the horse, gets Ramirez on the horse and they ride the horse to the bad guys’ car. Ramirez gets on the car and punches the bad guys unconscious.

For some reason (I mean, budget limitations) the fighting sequences are very quick. I would have watched more of Ramirez kicking billionaire bad guy’s ass on a moving car. But it’s fine, I mean, if this show had a bigger budget they’d spend it on more cowboy hats, so it’s fine.

Walker, James and Ramirez celebrate at the bar. Apparently the bad guy’s lackey that was supposed to get rid of the horse loved the horse too much and set him free in Austin. Mood.

There’s still a third of the episode still to go, though. Drama will ensue. Indeed Liam arrives and is super pissed off at Walker for missing lunch, which he forgot because he was busy with his lil tests.

Liam says Stella didn’t show up to the game. Walker says he know where she is and gets Ramirez to come with him.

Indeed she’s thrown a party at their house. Walker asks her what she’s doing. “Being a disappointment I guess” she answers. He asks her why she missed the game. She says that it shouldn’t be so easy to get a second chance after messing up - like him. He’s like, a second chance? It’s not like a stopped being your father. Except… you did? You disappeared from their lives entirely. He calls her out for damaging the house and she’s like, it’s not even our home anymore but I’m supposed to treat it like a museum? Honestly her scenes are the only interesting thing in this show. He says he’s back now, but she says that being back isn’t enough, what makes a parent is *doing parent things*, supporting the kids.

“I wish uncle Liam had gotten custody of us when he tried” she eventually drops the big bomb. Ouch.

He’s super pissed off, takes off the hat dramatically, and drives back to Liam. He gets off the drunk and immediately assaults Liam. “You tried to take my damn kids!”

I’m flabbergasted. They. They just wrote a plotline where a gay man tried to ~steal a straight man’s children~ like it was a good idea. I mean! Liam getting custody of the kids would have been a VERY GOOD IDEA but what, we’re supposed to think he was wrong? I am so confused because I can’t tell if we’re supposed to be on Walker’s side or not. He is NOT in the condition of being a parent. The kids SHOULD be under the custody of their grandparents and/or uncle. Not because he’s traumatized by loss, but because he’s not trying at all. He keeps saying he’s trying but he’s not. He gets aggressive too easily and it could be dangerous.

Anyway the brothers have this physical fight which isn’t by far the most embarrassing thing in this show so I’ll let it slide. “You had no right!” Walker says, to which Liam replies that he gets it was rough but “you went dark! That was negligence!” Which is absolutely right and he should have gotten the custody of the kids. Liam mentions that their parents also agreed on the thing, and Walker yells “these are MY kids!” which is appalling, because being the biological father of some kids doesn’t make it okay to disappear on them for months and being mad if someone else stepped up to be their parent in your absence. “I didn’t want them to be orphans, did you!?” Liam yells back.

“I would never _take_ them, I wanted to protect them,” Liam says, and says more very reasonable things. “Even now you’re not here.” Walker yells that he is here (again, being physically in Austin doesn’t make you a parent, like Stella said), Liam replies that he’s chasing ghosts.

He brings up the things that don’t add up again, like the poker chip. I’m afraid that the narrative will prove him right, that there WAS something there and he was right to follow through the case despite everyone else telling him he was being delusional and that he should let it go and focus on the family. It would be actually good if it turned out that there was nothing there, that it was all coincidence (like the friend closing her eyes) and that he just chased ghosts for real, but I’m afraid this isn’t that kind of show. I think they’re playing it straight, that they’ll make Walker be right, and it will suck.

A note: now that he’s fighting and yelling and being angry, Jared is actually acting properly, which I don’t know if it’s a good thing or creepy.

Actually Liam says something very reasonable now, that answers will not actually satisfy him, her being gone will never make sense emotionally. The poker chip isn’t going to bring her back. He will lose everything if he keeps searching for something that isn’t there.

Now that Walker has calmed down, Jared returns to doing Jared mouth things. Oh no! Augustus watched them fight.

Oooh. Augustus gives him the present Emily was going to give him for father’s day. Poker chips. “She kept a few of the chips so she could show people” (what? But okay). Another of the mysteries was actually not a weird conspiracy at all. I suspect the narrative will make us believe there was nothing there to just pull a twist afterwards. It would be interesting if Walker were indeed looking for nothing, but I doubt that’s what they’re doing. They’re playing the tropes too straight.

Meanwhile Ramirez comes home to her boyfriend preparing a homemade dinner. She says she’s happy he’s there, and that scares the crap out of her. She wants to get both the job and the relationship right. They’re really cute and I hope their relationship doesn’t get drama-fied for drama. A healthy relationship where two partners figure out how to navigate it together, with normal minor bumps along the way they face together, would really be a good thing for the show to portray.

The next morning, Walker is making breakfast when Stella enters the kitchen. She doesn’t speak to him but gets on her phone so he starts texting her. They have a moment. He was looking for him mug and she gets it out for him. She says it reminded her of him being gone so she’d put it away. They do a bonding activity (bringing a memento from their old house to their new one), she cries, he hugs her.

Back at the ranch, Walker’s father has made him a new saddle. Gramps Walker is rough around the edges but has a hidden wisdom.

The emotional moment is kinda broken for me by the big Texas flag they have inside the house. I suppose it’s just how Texas is but it’s still funny for that very reason.

Augustus for his school project has put together a video from old family footage. Lots of flashback, but this time with a regular song and not the rabies sound effect and with the soft lighting but not the most extreme glowy effect, so it’s kinda okay.

Jared makes emotional faces and the episode’s over.

Well, at least the dead guy having been to prison wasn’t really relevant and the bad guy was a billionaire. An improvement from the previous episode.

I’m not going to give views to the youtube trailers, but I’ve been told in the next episode a new character will be introduced that is a childhood friend that is ~the Han Solo to Walker’s Luke Skywalker. *single tear of sorrow* They’re trying SO HARD to be Supernatural and they’re managing to pick the least interesting concepts of Supernatural to do so. Can’t wait to see Fake Dean. Also we haven’t seen Walker lasso a person either. I suppose I’ll have to watch more of this.

Honestly, it’s mostly boring with Stella being the only interesting part and Ramirez and her boyfriend being cute to watch. Walker is so unlikeable. You want him to get his shit together for the sake of the people around him, but not really for his sake. He should go to therapy but he is a manly cowboy man so obviously he won’t go (but I will be impressed if they actually have him see a therapist. It would be interesting to have a manly cowboy man see a therapist. But will they do it?) The idyllic flashbacks of Emily are so overdone and it’s only the second episode! Everything is cheesy.

This traditional Texan ranch aesthetic meets Austin city would be interesting if played in a way that genuinely questions the values of old, but the show doesn’t really, it uses the gay brother and the immigrant friend and the Latina cop and the Black boyfriend as props but the narrative itself doesn’t really do anything with the traditional Texan family thing. Unless they really pull the rug from under the audience’s feet and make some big twists regarding the way the narrative is presenting itself, there’s nothing really interesting or useful in the show. I’m afraid they will solve their problems by Wanting To Do Better and Sticking Together As A Family, which is just a conservative fantasy of how to fix problems.

By the way, the cookies were really good and my family loved them too.

[asthmark]

❝ not alone ❞, l.ty

synopsis → “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

word count → 2.5k

warnings → angsty!!! the plot may not make sense since it’s literally 1 in the morning oops

a/n → i hope this concept makes sense and it isn’t too confusing or messy!! if it is just shoot me an ask i would be more than happy to clarify :] anyway i actually like the outcome of this but i am too tired to go back and reread it all for any mistakes so i just hope google docs has my back lol gn everyone

7:00 A.M.

the alarm you set for every year at the exact hour goes off at its appointed time, much to your dismay. the mere sound of your phone beeping has a knot forming in your stomach. you wished it would stop, that everything would just stop but that was beyond unrealistic. in fact, you felt foolish for even letting yourself think like that. no matter how badly you wanted things to change, they never would. you would have to endure the same things every year.

you had struggled to fall asleep the night before, that exact thought on your mind and the dread of facing the following day eating away at you. you had only managed to get some rest because of taeyong, who held onto you tightly and caressed your hair as he whispered sweet words to ease you into much needed sleep.

but the day was here now and there was no amount of romantic words or tender touches that would change that. there was absolutely nothing either of you could do about it.

you lean over towards your nightstand to turn off the alarm and taeyong stirs when he feels you begin to shift around in his arms. you lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling as he slowly begins to wake up. he yawns and stretches his limbs out on the mattress which was routinely for him. this would usually be followed by him trying to give you a smooch only for you to squirm away, giggling as you complained about his morning breath.

it is not one of those mornings.

8:09 A.M.

you end up having cereal for breakfast, another big switch up from your routine. normally, you two would browse the internet in search of a recipe that looked promising and try your best to recreate it. you would end up with flour, sugar and dirty dishes all over the place but you never cared. then you would sit at the couch, happily enjoying the finished product and chatting with the tv playing softly in the background.

that morning you sit at the dinner table silently, the cereal in your bowls going soggy before either of you had made a dent in it. you had lost any appetite and from the looks of it so has taeyong.

“you should eat.”

you glance up at your boyfriend. he isn’t eating either, instead he focuses on dipping his spoon into his cereal, bringing it above the bowl only to let it fall back in again. you put your silverware down. “i don’t think i can.”

he hums softly, agreeing with you. “are you nervous?”

it went without saying that you were both terrified. but you know he’s just trying to make conversation. you just nod your head anyway.  

10:31 A.M.

you and taeyong move to sit on the couch, turning on the tv so you don’t have to bear anymore uncomfortable silences.

even the newscaster looks down in the dumps, as expected. her voice lacks emotion as she speaks about the forecast, knowing nobody would be taking genuine interest unless it was to get their mind off of the current situation.

what did she expect? the world was restarting, people weren’t going to care about the weather.

“now, for the ongoing events,” says another news anchor. “as we are all well aware of, today is the annual reset. businesses worldwide have closed, most people opting to spend the day with their friends and family and we advise any viewers to do the same. talk to your loved ones about the memories you’ve made in the past year and write down the things and people you do not want to forget.”

you turn to taeyong only to find his gaze is already focused on you. you don’t hesitate to grab the hand that rests in his lap and intertwined his fingers with yours. neither of you say a word as you go back to watching the television, taeyong giving your hand a reassuring squeeze every so often.

12:46 P.M.

by noon, you and taeyong had begun cleaning your apartment, making sure it was well organized so that the next day you could focus only on getting settled in to your, essentially, new lives. you do the standard dusting and vacuuming along with similar around-the-house chores. while going through the closet, taeyong finds a shoe box full of polaroids you two had taken throughout the years. there are dates and other additional notes scribbled in sharpie on every single picture so your post-reset selves could read about the details of each photo since you would not be able to remember it. he calls out your name, smiling brightly when he sees your face light up as you fondly look over your shared moments.

“i’m so glad we got that camera,” you say, shifting through a stack of the photographs.

he nods. “probably your best idea yet.”

you find a picture of him giving you a piggyback ride and coo. it’s quite blurry but you can clearly see the huge grins on your faces. “look at us.” you hand him the photo. “we look so happy.”

he makes a noise of agreement, staring lovingly at the image. “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

“quit it.” you shove his shoulder, smiling sadly as you attempt to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. “i don’t want to cry right now, there’s still so much work to do.”

“it can wait.” he opens his arms and that’s all it takes for you to break. you crawl into his embrace, sobbing softly into his chest. it tugs at his heart strings. he tucks his chin above your head but you still notice how his shoulders shake and quiet hiccups escape his lips.

3:28 P.M.

once you and taeyong get tired of being confined to your apartment, you decide to go out for a breath of fresh air. you walk around aimlessly and your final destination turns out to be olympic park. as expected, it’s quite empty since as you had heard on the news, everyone was spending their last couple hours with those they loved in private.

you take in the beautiful scenery and if either you catch sight of a pretty rock or blooming flower, you will stop to pick it up and carefully place it in your pockets for safe keeping. you had found that they served as good reminders of all the time you spent together. in fact, there are many more of these mini souvenirs in your home, decorating your shelves.  

“hold up,” says taeyong suddenly.

when you look at him his eyes have zeroed in on something on the ground. he kneels down and picks up a smooth rock. you can’t help but notice the familiarity of it’s color.

“pretty, right?” he says, dropping the item in the palm of your hand. “it matches your eyes.”

you smile at him, finding his attention to detail incredibly endearing. you hold on to the rock, feeling its curves with your fingers until a cluster of chrysanthemums catches your attention and you have to free up your hands to pick one. you decide on a yellow one and present it to your boyfriend.

“here,” you say. “for you.”

“hey, aren’t i supposed to be the one giving you flowers?” taeyong asks but he takes it from you anyway.

“you’re supposed to give flowers to people you like,” you say. “and i like you.”

“you like me?” he asks, gasping softly. “how embarrassing.”

you go along with his joke. “don’t you like me too?”

he shakes his head and makes a face. “no way... i love you.”

you shove his shoulder. “so cheesy.”

he can’t argue with that so he just nods and chuckles as he tucks the chrysanthemum into his dark locks of hair. at seeing this, you raise the polaroid camera round your neck toward taeyong and he, already used to it, automatically poses for you. he puts his arms over his head, curving them into a kind of crooked heart. he gives an open mouthed smile only resuming to his normal position when he hears the click of the camera. you and him share a laugh once the polaroid picture develops completely.

“oh god, i look ridiculous,” he comments. “please get rid of that.”

you only give him a sarcastic, “yeah sure” and continue walking.

you two never got rid of pictures, no matter how ridiculous or unflattering they were. you agreed that every moment you shared counted and deserved to be remembered.  

although, they never would be.

5:45 P.M.

you chew on the cap of your pen, massaging your aching hand. you had been writing for almost an hour and you had your cramping fingers to prove it. despite the discomfort, you aren’t one to break tradition. the ‘things i love about you’ list was an ongoing thing you and taeyong had been doing for... ever. they definitely came in handy if either if you wanted to read about what the other was like in past years.

“everything good over there?” taeyong asks, from the other side of the couch.

you shake your head. “this is too hard. i have no idea how i’ve kept this up for four years.”

he puts a hand over his heart. “wow, i’m that hard to love, huh?”

“you know that’s not what i meant,” you say, glaring. “i just have so much stuff to say about you, so much stuff i want future me to know.”

he nods, solemnly. “i get it. i don’t want to leave out a thing but it’s kinda hard to fit a year’s worth of feelings and emotions into a couple pages.”

your let your head fall onto the couch. “why do you have to be so lovable?”

taeyong points an accusing finger at you. “i could ask you the same thing! you’re the most wonderful human being on the planet, if i try to write everything i love about you my hand will fall off!”

you sit up to stare at him. he looks genuinely offended by your ‘wonderfulness’. you pick up your pen and paper.

adorably dramatic, you write.

he scoots closer to you, exclaiming, “hey, what did you just put!”

you hug your notepad tightly to your chest. “no peeking!”

7:12 P.M.

your boyfriend hands you his letter with hopeful eyes. unlike the lists that had been made hours earlier, these writings had been in the works for quite some time. there are letters you and taeyong had written for each other dated all the way from 2016. that was also the year the first polaroids you owned were from so you both assumed it was when you had begun dating. if you ever want to have a good cry, all you have to do is find those letters.

in them, there are heartfelt words for the other person’s eyes only describing how they felt around them, why they were so special, among other sentiments. most importantly, though, you always included why you would never forget the other person. of course, one could say how ironic this was considering that forgetting was what the reset was all about but nevertheless, it was reassuring to read. it made your love seem unbreakable; something so strong it defied the impossible.  

you give taeyong your letter, feeling somewhat nervous. he doesn’t hesitate to open the envelope carefully. he slowly removes your letter from inside and you mirror his delicacy. the pair of you sit in absolute silence as you read the words off the pages.

my y/n,

what an amazing year it’s been with you. i know i say that in every letter i write but it’s really true. i never wrote things like this before you came along. only the basics—my name, who my parents were, my birthday, etc. you know, things like that. frankly, i had nothing else worth remembering. but now i do. you’re my whole world, the only thing i truly know and i am convinced i could not be any happier or luckier.

i don’t know what a life without you is like literally but i wouldn’t have it any other way. the situation the world faces with this whole reset mess isn’t ideal and i’ll oftentimes think of what a normal life would be like. even then, in this perfect universe, you’re still by my side.

i still wake up next to you.

i still spend every waking moment with you.

i still fall asleep with you in my arms.

you are still my everything. i am convinced you always will be.

many people avoid love or close relationships nowadays knowing that at the end of the year it’ll all be erased no matter what. how dumb is that? they don’t know what they’re missing out on. having a partner is nothing short of a blessing and you’ve taught me that by being with me every step of the way. sure, forgetting our past together doesn’t get any easier and neither does writing these letters but i’d write a million of them if that’s what it took to have you by my side.

i can only hope you’ll continue being there for me and give me something worth remembering in future years.

you are the light of my life and i can’t wait to fall in love with you again.

yours truly,

taeyong

the tears stroll down your cheeks and drip down on to the paper in your shaky hands. you use your sleeve to try and wipe them away to the best of your ability without smudging the ink. taeyong finishes reading your letter moments later, placing on the coffee table and only staring at you with a distant look in his eyes.

your voice comes out in a whisper. “are you okay?”

he nods, sniffling but his shiny eyes say otherwise. “can you maybe just... hold me?” his voice cracks along with your heart.

he ends up with his head in your lap, your fingers pulling and tugging at his soft hair. you have a couple hours left but you wouldn’t be opposed to leaving the year in this exact position.

11:59 P.M.

taeyong has made it clear he wants you to be the first thing he sees when you enter the new year. so, you spend your last minute getting into a position that will allow that.

you end up sitting sit cross-legged across from him. he’s in the same position and in the small distance between you, your fingers meet. the hold he has on your hands is so tight his knuckles have turned white. his eyes bore into yours and although he doesn’t say a word, his hazel orbs let you know it’s all going to be okay. you repeat those words to yourself.

it’s going to be okay.

it’s going to be okay.

it’s going to be okay.

“i love you,” you blurt.

he only has a couple seconds to respond.

“i love you, too. if you’re going to remember one thing, let it be that.”

[glassbangtan]

onto the next {kim seokjin x reader}

   words: 15.9k

  summary: you just need to start a new life. you need to get out of this small town and start fresh. you’re beginning to think you made the wrong decision until a kind man named seokjin offers to help you navigate the trains.

  genre: uhhhhhh fluff??? angst???

  notes: this literally has no plot, don’t let the summary fool you. but it’s cute!!! - masterlist - support my writing or ask about commissions!

----

  you need to get out of here. 

   fuck, you don’t even know how it happened. you left school, and you had plans. so many plans. an entire life laid out ahead of you. once upon a time, you were one of those hopeful little kids, buzzing to get out of the education system so you could pursue the dreams you so desperately wanted to pursue.

    but then you were actually given independence, and it spiralled from there.

   you wouldn’t say it was too much. you’re not that dramatic. it was just a shift - a big shift. you ended up with a job at a nearby Chinese takeout, working from four in the afternoon to ten at night, dealing with drunk people and little kids and answering phones. it was good at first, just getting money, but over time, when the novelty wore off, you wondered what the hell you were doing there. this wasn’t part of your plan. you should be travelling the world right now.

    so here you are, a few months into your mental breakdown, finally tipping over the edge.

   you stare at the list of trains flashing overhead in bright red letters. in your pocket, your phone blares with the continuous text messages from your parents, asking how you are, if you’re willing to tell them anything yet, if you’re safe. you’ll text them back once you know what you’re doing, but for now, you just need to get out of here.

there’s plenty of options. more options than you can handle, really; you thought it would be easier than this. you’d just walk into the train station and pick a destination, and your life would finally begin. now, however, your mind is a tangled mess of emotions, doubt, and everything that comes with it.

    you slump down on a nearby bench and duck your head in your hands. you don’t realise you’re crying until your sleeves start getting damp.

    “are you alright?”

    you don’t lift your head. “no.”

    the bench creaks as the stranger sits down. a shoulder nudges your own, firm and warm, probably adorned by a bulky coat given the frosty weather of korea at the moment.

    “oh. that’s not very good.”

    you drop your hands. the next train finally closes its doors and speeds out of the station, leaving you with yet another hour to gather your thoughts; it’s the second train that you have let slip through your fingers, because you still don’t even know where you want to go.

   you turn, glancing at the man beside you. he’s eating a packet of starburst, staring out at the railway tracks. he’s wearing a thick black coat over a hoodie, and he truly looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

    he catches you staring after a few seconds and immediately offers you a starburst. “hungry?”

    you hesitantly take one, though you don’t undo the wrapper. instead, you play with the sugary square, thankful to have something keeping your hands occupied.

    “so,” the stranger continues, “why are you crying?”

    how direct.

    “i wasn’t crying.”

    the man glances at you, raises a brow. his features are surprisingly handsome, a set of plump lips and kind eyes that take a little bit of fear from your body. “are you sure about that?”

   “pretty certain.”

    “did you miss your train or something? sometimes i feel like crying when i’ve missed my train; it’s very stressful.”

    you blink. “no. no, i haven’t missed my train.”

   he perks up. “oh, good! what train are you getting then? maybe i can help you with the times.”

    that’s really the million dollar question, isn’t it? what train will you find yourself upon? what city will you find yourself travelling to?

    you have no idea.

   “i have no idea.”

   the man pauses as if waiting for the punchline to some kind of joke. you unwrap your starburst and pop it in your mouth. overhead, a voice announces that the next train will be arriving in fifty minutes.

    when the silence stretches beyond anything acceptable, the man awkwardly coughs and says, “you don’t know?”

   “i don’t know.”

    “so you’re just. . . crying in the train station for no reason, with no train to catch?”

   “i never said i didn’t have a train to catch. i just don’t know what one i’m catching yet.”

   the man nods. you can tell, somehow, that he still doesn’t understand what you’re trying to say, but he’s too polite to question you any further. instead, he looks up at the signs above and says, “i’m heading to Gwangju, if that helps.”

    Gwangju. you’ve heard wonderful things about that place. it’s pretty, apparently, though you can only base that off things you’ve heard from others.

    “Gwangju,” you repeat, as if testing the word. “why are you going to Gwangju?”

    he shrugs. “i just need to get away for a little while.”

   your heart stutters, eyes snapping round to look at him. he sits completely straight, fidgeting with a strawberry starburst; his fingers are lovely, long and slightly bent in places. 

     i just need to get away for a little while. 

    oh, how fate works in the most wild ways.

    “so do i,” you say. “i need to get away, too.”

   his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “really? is that why you’re here?” 

    “i’m kind of looking for a place to start fresh, i suppose, yeah. i woke up this morning, grabbed my bag and just. . . walked here. i have enough money for a decent train fare, but i don’t have any plans.” you shrug, awkwardly glancing to the floor. “i don’t think i really thought it through, though, because now i have no idea what i’m doing.”

    “well, that’s the fun, isn’t it?” the man nudges your arm. when you look at him, he’s grinning again, tiny little dimples appearing just beneath the points of his mouth. “don’t be scared. it’ll work out. what’s the worst that could happen?”

   your stomach turns; you were kind of hoping he wouldn’t ask that question, because that means you have to actually ponder over everything that could possibly go wrong, and you’ve got a list. a mental list, compiled from the very moment you decided this was your next course of action.

    the man must notice your sudden hesitation, as his eyes widen and he leans forward, trying desperately to meet your gaze before you fall too deeply into your own pessimistic thoughts. “okay, maybe i shouldn’t have said that. look, let’s not think about the worst that could happen, alright? how about we start by making sure this is something you actually want to do.”

   “it is.” the affirmative spills from your mouth with no hesitation. “i need to do this. i need to.”

   the man nods. “good. that’s alright, then. next step is probably figuring out where you actually want to go.”

     you risk another glance at the red words flashing above your head; they look no less daunting than they did the first time you looked at them. so many places, so many opportunities, and you’re not sure whether you’ll fit in with any of them.

    but you have to make your decision now. you have roughly half an hour to make your mind up, buy a ticket and get on that god damn train, so you really shouldn’t be wasting any more time.

    “Gwangju doesn’t sound like a bad shout.”

    the man’s eyebrows shoot up once again. “really?”

   you shrug. “well, you brought it up. i’ll give it a go.”

    he grins. “it really is a great place. we can get the train together.” he stands up. “come on, let’s get you a ticket.”

    and so, it begins.

   your heart doesn’t steady the entire time. you buy a ticket with the man - seokjin, you learn- by your side before the two of you take a seat at the edge of the platform, waiting patiently for the train to arrive. he pulls out a bag of pretzels and shares them with you, even though your stomach feels like it’s going to turn inside out with every bite; you’re too nervous to do anything besides nod and hum to everything seokjin is trying to explain, and he’s trying to explain an awful lot.

   he goes into detail about the sights of Gwangju, and how he’s booked a B&B, and it’s going to be such a fun trip. you have so many questions about why he’s doing this, how he has the confidence to just get up and leave home like he has no commitments to anything. the questions don’t make an appearance, though, because you’re fairly certain opening your mouth will result in you vomiting all over the place.

   finally, after what feels like forever, the train comes screeching to a halt and the doors open. you’re frozen in place for a moment, seokjin staring at the side of your head, waiting for you to make the first move. you kind of appreciate the way in which he waits, how he’s not pushing you to just get up and do it; if you really wanted to turn your back on this opportunity now, he wasn’t going to stop you.

    you inhale and rise on shaky legs. seokjin follows close behind, letting you guide him to the train. you clamber on board and grab a seat, seokjin sitting down beside you. he pushes his hood off his head once he’s finally seated, letting out a quiet sigh of relief; his black hair sticks up, only getting worse when he runs his nimble fingers through the strands. 

    “are you nervous?”

    “i think that’s pretty obvious.”

   seokjin chuckles, flopping back in his seat with a lazy grin. “i know. i just thought i should get you to speak to maybe take your mind off things.”

    you sigh; you have to admit, now that you’re on the train, and you know you’re not fully, fully alone, your nerves are dissipating just a little bit. you can breathe a bit better than before, and you haven’t had the urge to burst into tears in nearly an entire hour - it’s progress.

    “so,” he continues. “are you going to explain to me what’s really going on here?”

   you flick your eyes up, raising a brow. “i didn’t lie; i was being serious when i said i just needed to get out of here.”

   “yeah, i get that, but surely there must be something else to it. not everyone just. . . leaves.”

   “isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

   seokjin shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. he’s slouched in his chair now, legs spread, head tilted back. he’s so low that you have to look down to address him. “i travel for work, if you must know. getting on trains and travelling the country isn’t something i’m not used to. you, however, didn’t even know how to work the train system.”

   you scowl. “that’s not true. i could have handled this on my own perfectly fine.”

   “i don’t doubt that. i’m just saying, i’m still not convinced you’re telling me everything.”

   “and why should i? i don’t even know who you are.”

   seokjin hums, staring out into the aisle as more people clamber onto the train; it’s getting very full now, with some people having to stand as the seats become more and more occupied. 

    “good point,” he says. “at least tell me this; on a scale of one to ten, how prepared are you for this trip?” 

   you don’t hesitate. “zero.”

    seokjin’s eyebrows rise. “z-zero? like, you have no preparation whatsoever?”

   “i have my bag with me.”

   seokjin waits.

   you don’t say anything else, because you have nothing else to say. you have the clothes in your bag, and the money in your wallet, and that is all.

   “i was planning on making the big decisions once i actually got to where i’m going,” you elaborate. 

   “do you have any friends in Gwangju?”

    “no.”

    seokjin struggles to push himself upright. “do you even have a place to stay?”

   “i literally didn’t even know i would be on this train a few hours ago; of course i don’t have a place to stay.”

   seokjin looks borderline horrified, all wide eyes and open mouth. he’s staring at you like you have two heads, waiting for you to say “sike!” and put him out of his misery. 

   you glance down at your hands. “have you got any of those pretzels left?”

    “christ, y/n, you’re really taking this spontaneity thing to a whole new level. a dangerous level.”

  you roll your eyes, even though you know he’s right. “i’ll be fine. i have enough money for a B&B for at least a night or two, and after that, we’ll see what happens-”

   “you’ll see what happens?”

    “why are you so worried? i’m fine! i’ll be fine!”

   seokjin shakes his head, eyes still wide. “i’m not going to let you walk around an unfamiliar city with nothing but your good intentions; you can stay with me at the B&B for a while - until you get yourself on your feet.”

   you blink, certain you’ve heard him wrong.

   he slouches again, shaking his head as he murmurs about how some people can be so dumb, and how he never would have helped you follow through with such an insane plan, and how you pulled on his heartstrings when he saw you crying, how he shouldn’t be so nice because then he ends up on trains to Gwangju with people who clearly have some kind of death wish-

    you slap his shoulder. 

    “ow!” he glares at you. “what was that for?”

   “i’m not raiding your fucking B&B.”

    he rubs his shoulder. “you’ve got no other options. two nights isn’t going to be enough to find you a job, or a decent place to live - keep that money you were going to spend on a B&B and use it for - like - travelling to job interviews or something.”

    “i don’t even know who you are!” and that seems to be the main argument here, the most valid. you genuinely have no idea who this bloke is, besides his name and a few weird facts he felt the need to tell you whilst you were waiting for your train to arrive.           

    he shrugs like such a fact is no big deal. “i’ll take a thank you, actually.”

   you scowl, glaring at him, but he doesn’t look up. stubborn little bastard. instead, he tilts his head out and stares back through the centre of the train, that infuriating little smirk on his face that tells you he knows he’s getting on your nerves, and doesn’t really care.

    you cross your arms over your chair and slouch in the same way he is. “fine. but if you murder me-”

    “i won’t murder you.”

    “how do i know that for definite?”

    he shrugs. “you don’t. but you’re more likely to die from hypothermia after you end up homeless on the streets of Gwangju in the middle of winter.”

    that shuts you right up. he has a point, and though you barely know him, you have been given no reason to truly believe he is out to harm you in any way, shape or form.

    and so, in your huff, you pull your headphones from your bag and place them on your head. you blast music, ignoring seokjin’s eye roll; you know you’re being petty, but so what? you’re tired, and hungry, and his stubbornness has somehow managed to wriggle under your skin moreso than you thought possible. you’re not usually a very angry person - you let people get away with lots of things - but there’s something in the way seokjin talks, something in the way he looks at you, something in the way he is that just. . . gets to you a little bit. 

    it’s probably mean. judgemental. it’s one of those things your dad used to scold you for, one of those things you grew out of after your first year in school. but here it is, making a comeback specially for this stranger sat beside you.

    the train travels for another hour and a half before finally coming to a halt in Gwangju station. you stare out the window, watching the bright blue pillars come into view, the flocks of people swarming the platform. people in business suits, with briefcases and grimaces on their faces. seagulls are pecking at discarded food on the floor. a child is throwing a tantrum whilst his mother hastily pats her coat pockets for any sign of her train ticket.

   seokjin nudges your arm, even though he can see you staring out the window. “we’re here.” 

    “is it always this hectic?” you ask, tugging your headphones off your head. 

    “at this time of day, yeah.” he glances at his watch. “we should probably get going pretty soon if we want to grab a taxi; they’ll be packed right now.”

    and so, you follow seokjin off the train, through the station and out into the world.

    it’s not too unfamiliar; you’ve been to places like this. your home town was pretty densely populated, so the crowds do not faze you. the only thing is, this isn’t your home town, and that’s the part that’s getting to you.

    it’s so similar, but you’re too aware of the chance to take that into consideration. 

    there are tall buildings, and small buildings, and tiny shops with smoke billowing from chimneys. the air is crisp and cold, forcing you to wrap your coat a little tighter around yourself. you’re standing stock still at the top of the station stairs, and yet already you are overwhelmed with the abundance of opportunities already throwing themselves headfirst into your life.

    you’re going to throw up.

   seokjin’s gentle touch on your elbow draws you back to reality. you inhale sharply, tugging your hand into your chest.

    “what?”

   he raises a brow. “you’re still in a mood with me?”

   you scowl, dropping your hand to your side. “sorry. no. i just - i’m a little jumpy, that’s all.” you offer him a grin, tired and probably not worth the bother, but it’s something you hope he’ll accept given the circumstances. “let’s find that taxi, shall we?”

     it takes a while, but eventually you and seokjin manage to clamber into a taxi together. when you offer to pay half the fare, seokjin glares and shoves your hand away, which only frustrates you. you say nothing, though, because you don’t want to seem ungrateful.

   especially when you pull up to the B&B.

   because it’s glamorous.

    more glamorous than it has any right to be.

    honestly, what kind of B&B has a chandelier in the room? not only that, but there’s a grand double bed in the centre, two bedside tables each adorned with a pitcher of ice cold water, plus a massive television set on a chest of drawers at the front of the room. the window, covered by a set of black out curtains, looks out over the city. in darkness, Gwangju looks like something straight out of a film. there’s a christmas tree glistening in the distance, and a few people dressed as elves are walking around, taking pictures with kids.

    “okay,” you say. “this isn’t really what i was expecting.”

   seokjin is shedding his coat, barely even giving the tremendous room a once-over. he glances over his shoulder, frowning when he notices you just standing in the doorway, your coat still on, your bag still on, your jaw dropped open.

    “what do you mean?” he asks. “take your coat off, bloody hell. i’ve turned the heating on. it’s gonna get boiling in here in about two minutes.”

    hesitantly, you tug your coat from your shoulders, letting all your belongings clatter to your feet. seokjin straightens up, turning to you with his hands on his hips.

    “are you okay?”

   “seokjin, this room is so fucking expensive.”

    he raises a brow. “how do you know that?”

    you gesture to the room in question, as if that is answer enough.

   and to any normal person, it certainly would be. nobody goes to a B&B expecting glamour, but that’s exactly what you’ve been given, and you’re shocked to find that seokjin isn’t even mildly surprised by it. he isn’t even taking the time to admire the thick material of the duvet.

    the duvet of the only bed in this entire room, but that’s a problem you’ll sort out when it’s actually time to sleep.

    seokjin glances around, that eyebrow of his still raised. “i stay here every time i come to Gwangju.”

    “oh, good for you!” you push the door closed and dart towards the bed. flopping on your back, you wriggle your fingers, digging them into the duvet. “i could suffocate under this, you know.”

    seokjin rolls his eyes, strolling over to where you have unceremoniously abandoned your things by the door. he picks them up and lobs them onto the sofa at the other end of the room, before turning back to witness your episode of complete fascination.

    “so this is all it takes to get you out of your mood?”

   your smile drops. “i wasn’t in a mood.” 

   “you seemed pretty moody to me. you didn’t say a word to me the entire train ride.” 

    heat rushes to your face; okay, maybe you let your nerves get the better of you. in all honesty, seokjin didn’t necessarily do anything wrong - yes, he was stubborn, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but he clearly has your best interests at heart. he’s giving you a room to stay in. he’s put up with you this entire time, and he hasn’t even known you a full day.

    you sigh, hands dropping on your stomach. “okay, sorry. you’re right. i was a tiny bit moody, but i was just tired. and hungry.”

   “you could have said that.” seokjin gestures towards the bed. “pick what side you want and i’ll go order us dinner.”

    it takes you a minute to register what he’s just said.

    when you do, you scramble upright, stopping him in his tracks. his hand is inches away from the phone, but he pauses to glance at you.

    “what is it now?”

   “we’re sharing a bed?” you bounce on the mattress, exaggerating your point. “like, this bed?”

    “do you see any other bed in the room?”

    you look around as if doing so will somehow manifest a single bed into your space. you’ll even take a camp bed at this point. a pull-out sofa. your standards aren’t high.

    “i snore, you know,” you blurt out.

    seokjin tilts his head. his smile reappears, those dimples showing beneath his mouth; they’re not cheek dimples by any means, but they border on cheek dimples, and they’re cute either way. 

    you don’t know why you’re focusing on them so much.

    “i don’t mind,” he says. “i’ll be asleep anyway.”

   “i also move around a lot,” you barrel on. “i might kick you, or hit you by accident. i once gave my best friend a nose bleed when she was staying over at my house.”

    seokjin nods, reaching for the telephone. you can tell he’s turning your voice into background noise now, probably fed up with hearing your excuses.

    “seokjin, sharing a bed with a stranger is weird,” you whine. 

    “feel free to sleep on the floor then,” he hisses over his shoulder. “now what do you want to eat?”

     the mention of food is enough to bring you back to your senses. you bounce off the bed and grab the menu at the side of the phone, flicking through it as seokjin makes idle conversation with the girl on the other end; apparently, the two of them know each other. he’s calling her lily - a first name basis kind of thing. you can’t help your teasing grin, flicking your eyes to him every now and then.

   finally, he nudges your elbow and says, “can i have...”

   you point to each of the meals you want, and seokjin reels them off to dear old lily. he places his own order, says goodbye and sets the telephone down.

    “happy days,” he says. “she says that should be about ten minutes; you ordered a lot of food.”

    “i’m hungry,” you reply. 

    “no shame in that.” he glances at the clock hung upon the wall. “i’m gonna go grab a shower and get into my pyjamas before the food gets here. unless you want to go in first?”

   you wave a dismissive hand. “i’m just gonna throw on a movie. anything you want to watch?”

    “surprise me.” with that, he scoops up his pyjamas and heads into the en-suite bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

    ---

    the food arrives exactly twelve minutes after seokjin set the phone down.

   you’ve been counting.

    you had thrown on the movie Elf, basking in seokjin’s groan when he emerged from the bathroom - all wet hair and cute pyjamas - to see your film of choice. nonetheless, the two of you are sat in bed when the doorbell rings, laughing as will ferrel scoops a forkful of spaghetti mixed with sweets into his mouth and makes a comment about how tasty it is.

    “i always wanted to try that,” you say to seokjin’s back when he stands to get the door. “i think it would be a real experience.”

    “oh, definitely.” he pulls open the door. “hello. yes, that’s for us. thank you. thank you, alright. yeah. yeah. thank you. okay, bye! bye!” he closes the door and wheels the tray of food into the centre of the room. you bound away from your pillows, grabbing the first bowl you can get your hands on - just plain old rice, but you dig in nonetheless.

   seokjin grabs the chopsticks and dips them into the bowl you are holding, taking a lump of rice for himself. you set the bowl down between you, giving him easier access.

    “i can cook, you know.”

    he says this so off-handedly, not even looking up from the phone in his lap. you, however, pause, chopsticks halfway to your mouth.

   “you can cook?”

    he nods. “been cooking with my mum and dad since i was a kid. it’s kind of a skill of mine.”

   you drop your chopsticks into the bowl. “alright, fess up. is there anything you can’t do?”

    he smirks, still not looking up. it’s a little bit cocky, and it sends a surprising thrill up your spine to see it.

   you nudge his arm. “i’m serious.”

    “i’ll cook something for you one day, how about that? then you can decide if cooking counts as something i can do.”

    you nod; it’s a promising deal, though you can’t help but ponder over the hidden promises beneath those words. one day, a phrase often used to describe a time in the future.

    which means he wants to see more of you.

   it’s embarrassing that such a thought pushes to the forefront right now.    again, you are reminded of just how little time you have spent with this man, a man who is essentially a stranger and nothing more, a man who has proven quite capable of getting on your nerves.

    it strikes you then, with this little fact in mind, that you don’t know an awful lot about him. granted, you haven’t exactly had the time to dive deep into the kind of person he is, but you haven’t really made much of an effort, either. you spent half the train ride in a huff, and most of your time spent in the B&B has been spent fawning over the details of lavish living.

    now, however, you stare at the side of his face. his jaw twitches as he eats, his eyes narrowing when he bites into a particularly strange piece of rice; he coughs into his fist, shakes his head and continues eating. he looks up once, meets your eyes and gives you the tiniest of smiles.

    “what do you do for a living?”

    it’s not exactly the first thing you want to know, but it feels like a good enough segway into his entire life story that you just roll with it.

    his chewing slows. “me?”

   “yes. you.” you take a bite of some beef in black bean sauce. “not just anyone can afford to stay in a place like this every other week. what’s your secret, seokjin?”

    “i’m a chef,” he replies.

     simple as that, you suppose. he’s a chef. he cooks for a living. 

   “do you travel to different restaurants?” you press.

    “i’m pretty well-known around these parts; whenever certain restaurants are short on staff, i’ll go and help out.”

   “so you must be pretty popular.”

    he shrugs, the tiniest pink hue adorning his cheeks.

    “you know, you look a little young to be a fully qualified chef.” you pause. “what age are you?”

    “i’m twenty-six.”

   “oh. good. i’m twenty-four.”

   “and what does a twenty-four year old runaway do for a living?”

   you scowl. “i’m not a runaway; my family and friends all know i’m here.”

   he points his chopsticks at you. “from what i saw, you didn’t even know you would end up here before i showed up.”

    he has a point. 

   you pop another bit of beef into your mouth, taking your time to chew. he asked you a question. you registered that question, and you have an answer, but it feels a little anticlimactic in comparison to the answer he was able to give.

    seokjin narrows his eyes at your silence. he swallows the rice in his mouth and leans forward, fighting to meet your eyes in that same way he did back at the station. “so? what do you do?”

    “i used to work at a chinese takeout restaurant.”

    you wince, waiting for him to burst out laughing. 

   “what do you usually get from a chinese takeout?”

    you look up. “what?”

   already, he is back to chewing his food, rifling through a carton of vegetables with his chopsticks. “what is your go-to meal from a chinese restaurant? i’m a big fan of the sweet and sour, but you can’t go wrong with a curry, either.”

    you nod. “yeah. yeah, i like chicken curry, too.”

    seokjin smiles around his chopsticks, and for just a moment, all you can do is stare at him. you’ve found yourself doing that an awful lot recently, just sitting there with your eyes trained on his face, him none the wiser to your gaze. he looks around the room, chewing thoughtfully, before his eyes widen and he grabs the television remote from the bedside table. he says nothing to explain his actions, simply turns the television on and crawls back to his pillows, where he lays over the top of the comforter, his bowl of rice balanced on his chest.

    he switches netflix on. “have you ever watched the haunting of hill house?”

    “no.” you crawl to your own pillows, flopping down beside him. “is it scary?”

    “it’s creepy,” he replies. “think you can handle it?” 

    glancing down, you catch sight of his playful smirk.

   you roll your eyes and say, “put it on.”

    and so, seokjin does just that. together, the two of you eat and binge watch this creepy, confusing tv show. by the end of it, you’ve both crawled beneath the covers and are trying desperately not to jump at the jump scares; seokjin laughed at you the first time you did it, before nearly spilling his black bean sauce over his pyjama shirt when he did the exact same thing a few minutes later. 

    “i hated that,” you say once the final episode drifts to a close. “i hated that so much.”

    seokjin places the empty bowls on the floor before slumping further down in the comforter. “it’s good, isn’t it? gets me every time!”

   “next time, i get to pick what we put on tv.”

    he raises a brow. “and what would you pick?”

   you hum thoughtfully. “i kind of want to rewatch the one direction movie.”

    “good choice.”

    “but that’s for tomorrow.” you tug the quilt up to your chin, snuggling within it’s warmth; you’re still quite freaked out, glancing round the now-dark room, half expecting some creepy, paranormal figure to jump out of the darkness. “for now, i’m going to sleep.”

   “what are your plans for tomorrow?”

   your stomach curls. “i gotta just. . . get my life together, i suppose. might go job hunting.”

    “i have work in the morning, but you can call me if you need anything.”

   you blink, glancing over at him; he’s doing it again, that thing where he says such kind, heartfelt things to a complete stranger and doesn’t even seem fazed by it. he just rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and drifts off to sleep.

    ----

      seokjin is already gone when you wake up. he’s left a note. it’s simple: “off to work. here’s my number.”

   followed, as promised, by his number.

    you punch the digits into your own phone and try to ignore the spiralling question of how you’re going to pay your phone bill at the end of the month. you have high hopes that you’ll have found your footing by then, gotten a job, have enough money saved up to get a decent flat you can call your own. 

   it’s just a matter of taking the steps to get there.

    you get dressed in a nice turtle neck jumper, coloured black for good measure. pairing it with a pair of fancy grey trousers and a pair of black boots, you head out onto the streets of Gwangju, and are abruptly reminded of the fact you have never walked through these streets in your life.

   everything is so new. you have to walk with your head ducked down, glancing at Google Maps every few steps because you honestly have no idea where you’re going. after searching up job vacancies nearby, you start your journey to the nearest one.

   it’s a clothing store. the boss isn’t in, so you leave.

   the second one is a little more promising; they let you leave your cv at the front desk, and the boy working seems nice enough to actually pass your details on to his manager. however, you don’t get much further than that, and you move on to the next one.

    it’s a bakery. 

    it’s a small bakery, most likely a family-run business. as soon as you walk in, you’re greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread and a smile peeking over the counter top; it’s a boy about your age, a flop of black hair covering one of his eyes. he’s wearing a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing some muscular arms. he’s got an apron on, too, that says ‘Kiss the Cook’ on the front, but no name badge is in sight.

    “morning,” he says, despite it literally being 12:30pm. “you doing alright?”

    you run your hands through your hair; was he asking you that just out of kindness, or because you look dishevelled? you feel dishevelled, but you were hoping you had managed to pull yourself together a little bit before walking in here.

    he tilts his head. “what can i get you?”

   startled back to reality, you rush to the counter. placed in batches is piles upon piles of pleasant looking treats, all looking fresh from the oven. 

    “hi,” you begin. “uh - hi, yeah. i was looking on the internet earlier and saw you had a job going? i was just wondering if that’s - uh - still a thing?”

    the boys face lights up. “you saw the advertisement? that’s a first!”

   “yeah?” 

    “dad! dad, we’ve got someone here asking about the advertisement!”

    startled, you step back. an older, black haired man rushes from a room in the back, wiping his fingers on a towel. he’s frowning, but the expression quickly morphs into one of glee when he sees you standing there.

   “really?” he says. “well, isn’t that a damn miracle. i was starting to think i’d be in here for twelve hour days; my name’s robert, and this is my son, malachi.”

    “y/n,” you reply. “so - uh - i’m guessing the job is still up for grabs?” 

    “it is indeed,” robert replies. “give me two minutes whilst i freshen up, and we can sit down and chat. sound good?”

    your eyes widen. “really? do you not want to read my cv or anything?”

   robert waves a dismissive hand. “i’ll learn more about you through actual conversation than i ever will through a piece of scrap paper.” he turns on his heel. “i’ll be out in two minutes!”    

    you are stunned. this really isn’t how you expected things to go, especially considering your bad luck these past few months. 

   the bakery goes silent. you stare into dead space, waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down; the building is going to suddenly set on fire, or robert is gonna pop his head round the door and say “sike!” and you’ll have to trudge back to the B&B and inform seokjin of your failures.

    seokjin.

   his name startles you back to reality. quickly, you grab your phone from your back pocket, pull up his number and send him a quick text.

   hi. it’s y/n. might have a job. it’s at the bakery down the street. will keep you updated.

   you debate signing your message off with a kiss, decide against it and stuff your phone back into your pocket. it’s only then do you notice malachi’s eyes trained on you; he leans over the counter, arms folded, the tiniest of smirk playing on his face.

    he’s handsome in a weird way. he’s tall. he’s got messy black hair, and you’ve heard that’s what a lot of people are fawning over nowadays. it kind of reminds you of seokjin a little bit, though seokjin’s figure is a lot. . . kinder than this boys. seokjin’s lean and tall, muscles in just the right places. this boys hands look like they could choke you out in a matter of seconds. 

    his smile is pleasant, though. it brings a glint to his dark eyes. he hasn’t got any dimples on his chin.

    one point for seokjin, you suppose.

   you return his smile, suddenly a bit awkward beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. “so, robert’s your dad?”

    “yep. known him my whole life.”

    you laugh, because you’re pretty sure that’s a joke he’s just told. “it’s a nice place you’ve managed to run with him. very cosy. we don’t have places like this in Busan.”

    malachi’s eyebrows raise. slowly, he straightens up. “you’re not from here?”

   “afraid not. i moved here just yesterday, actually - kind of a spontaneous thing, but it’s been working for me so far.”

    “all on your own?”

   you pause. “well, not necessarily. my - uh - friend and i are here together.” yes. friend. you can call seokjin a friend. “he’s a chef.”

    malachi hums like this is some kind of grand revelation. “a chef, eh? i heard they earn quite a bit of money.”

    “oh, well, i don’t know. i don’t really ask him about his finances, if i’m honest.”

   “and whereabouts are you two staying?”

    “the B&B down the street.”

    again, his eyebrows shoot up. “the lodge? that’s a pretty expensive place to stay.”

    “we split the bill,” you say quickly, suddenly getting protective over seokjin; you’ve heard that tone in people’s voices before. malachi has probably made an entire sour opinion on seokjin purely because he’s been led to believe he’s rich.

   “he works hard for his money,” you add, because you feel like you have to. “it exhausts him, poor guy, but he loves what he does.”

     malachi stares at you. the pleasant grin from earlier has been wiped free from his face, replaced by a twist of his mouth. you look away, thankful to see robert bustling back, now wearing a clean white shirt free of apron and flour.

   “sorry for keeping you,” he says. “let’s go out the back where it’s a little warmer. that weather today could kill!”

    and so, shooting malachi one last smile, you follow his dad into the back. it is indeed very warm, the heat from the ovens immediately clinging to your skin. you shed your coat, throwing it over the back of your chair as robert takes a seat across from you and begins the interview.

    it doesn’t last very long. robert doesn’t seem like the picky type, asking you about your family and where you’re from. he focuses very little on your level of experience, though you try your hardest to fit in all those stories of you growing up around bakers, just to give your reputation that little push. 

    he talks to you like you’re an old friend, laughing at your jokes, telling his own childhood stories. he’s a really easy guy to be around, making the interview feel more like a casual chat than an actual job interview.

   finally, however, he claps his hands and says, “i think we have a winner!”

   you blink. “wait, really?” 

   he reaches forward, grabs your hands and shakes them, both at the same time. “you’re a lovely person, y/n. i’d love nothing more than for you to be on our team.”

    your heart thunders; that was so easy, too easy, but you’re not even going to ruin the moment by questioning it right now. instead, you grin and say, “i’d love that, thank you so much!”

    ----

    when seokjin arrives back at the B&B, it is already dark out. 

    eleven pm, if the clock is to be trusted in this place. already, you’re sprawled across the double bed, television blasting, your phone held over your face. you’ve had a shower and tucked yourself into some pyjamas.

    “you look comfortable.”

   your head shoots up. “seokjin! did you get my text?”

    he throws his coat from his shoulders, shaking the rain out of his dark hair. he looks exhausted, which makes you feel bad for having already taken up most of the bed, but you’re too excited to care too much.

    “i got your first text,” he replies, tossing his gym bag on the bed. “did you end up getting that interview, then?”

   “you bet i did!” you jump up, grinning from ear to ear. seokjin raises a brow, but chuckles when you throw your arms over his shoulders and say, “i got the job! i got the job! i got the job!”

   he pulls away, holding you at arms length. his eyes are wide, that smile big across his face. “they gave you it then and there?”

   “i make a wildly good first impression, seokjin, don’t you ever forget.”

    he scoffs. “sorry. sometimes i forget considering the first time i saw you, you were bawling your eyes out in the middle of a train station.”

    “literally no one asked you to remember that.” you pull him back in for a hug, squealing your excitement in his ear. 

   he laughs. his arms tighten around your waist, head nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and you might be imagining it, but you swear you can feel his joy, can hear it in his melodic laugh. he’s just as excited about this opportunity as you are, even though he has no reason to be.

    you pull away, tipping back onto the mattress. “i start in two days time.”

    “what are they gonna get you to do?”

    “baking, i assume. working the tills. just. . . baker stuff.”

   seokjin raises a brow, sitting down on the end of the bed. he smells like a kitchen. “do you actually know how to bake?”

   “of course i know how to bake. i wouldn’t have gone for an interview at a bakery if i didn’t.”

    “you never told me that.”

   you pause. “sorry. i didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

   seokjin shrugs, standing up again. he walks over to his luggage and tugs out another pair of pyjamas, this one adorned with little ducklings upon a blue background. “i just would have liked to know that, that’s all.”

    you watch as he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. seconds later, you hear water screeching out of the shower head, and you know then the conversation is over.

   you aren’t really sure what to make of it.

   he did seem a tad bit upset, but it’s difficult to tell with seokjin. you haven’t known him for very long at all, but within that short space of time, you’ve certainly been able to conclude that seokjin is more an optimist than a pessimist. he looks on the bright side of life, and even when he’s upset, he doesn’t really like to show it, like he’s afraid of spreading negativity.

    it can’t be very healthy.

   nonetheless, you were able to spot a few inconsistencies in his optimism during that conversation, and it makes you feel bad. you nuzzle beneath the covers and turn the television back on, wondering what on earth you did wrong.

   ---- 

    work is hectic.

   even though the bakery itself is never overly busy, there’s a lot to be done when it comes to hospitality. almost immediately you are put in charge of the tills, plus cleaning up when the mess gets too much. that means you spend your days darting back and forth between the front of the shop and the kitchen, trying to keep a healthy balance, but failing miserably.

   malachi tells you it’s alright, that even he and robert struggle to stay on top of things, but it still puts you in a sour mood. you want to be good at this. it’s been a brilliant opportunity, and you’re not willing to spoil it just yet.

    you’re on your second week of work when seokjin finally decides to pay a visit.

   you know he got the day off, because you woke up this morning and nearly had a heart attack at the sight of him still fast asleep beside you; it left your stomach in knots, your heart stumbling in your chest. it’s not like he shouldn’t have been there - he’s fallen asleep beside you every night for the past two weeks. however, you’ve never actually seen him there. he’s always gone when you wake up. 

    but this morning, you rolled over and was greeted, startlingly, by the sight of his sleeping face.

   his peaceful, adorable sleeping face.

    now, however, he’s spritely and awake. with two cups of coffee in his hand, he waltzes up to the counter and says, “cosy place.”

    you grin, taking one of the cups from him. “isn’t it? 

   he inspects the tiny bakery with a smile on his face, those dimples popping just shy of the corners of his mouth. “you never told me how cute it was in here; i would have visited much sooner.”

    “with your busy schedule? absolutely not.”

    seokjin rolls his eyes. “i would have made the time.” 

   you ignore how this comment makes you feel. you’ve gotten increasingly good at doing that these past few days. 

    you lean over the counter, taking tiny sips of your coffee. “so, what have you been doing with all your spare time?”

     “nothing,” he replies, a little too quick. “absolutely nothing. i had a few emails from the people back in Busan to deal with, but besides that, i’ve been sat in the B&B, watching netflix.”

    “sounds like a dream.”

    he shakes his head, the tiniest pout forming. “it’s awful. i’m bored. i’ve never been bored in the B&B before; i think you’re having a negative effect on me.”

    you shoot upright, jaw dropping open. “excuse me? you can’t blame me for the fact you have no hobbies!”

    “who said i have no hobbies?”

    “the fact that all you’ve done is watch netflix today kind of eludes to the fact that you have no hobbies.”

    seokjin scowls. the expression is adorable on him, with those stray dimples making an appearance. you really have to stop staring at those, because it’s going to get obvious pretty soon.

    “i have plenty of hobbies,” he grumbles. “in fact, i’ve been invited out for a few drinks tonight with my friends.”

    you pause. of course seokjin has friends. you were never under any illusion that he didn’t, but he doesn’t really talk about them. being locked up in a B&B with him for two weeks straight has given you plenty of time to pick his brain, analyse the life he used to life, and not once has he made any attempt to bring up these so-called friends.

   “oh,” you manage. “that sounds like it’ll be fun.”

    he hums cockily, like he’s just proved you wrong.

   “getting drunk isn’t a hobby unless you’re an alcoholic, by the way.”

    his smile drops. “i can never win with you, can i?”

   you shrug. “i’m just saying. why don’t you take up painting, or playing the guitar?”

   “okay, okay, i didn’t come in here for a therapy session; how much are those eclairs?”

    you giggle, but nonetheless, you duck down and pluck an eclair from the display cabinet. you place it in a bag and hand it over to him before saying, “don’t worry about it. i’ll slip some cash in the register at the end of the night.”

    seokjin pauses. his hand is inches away from the bag you’re holding out to him, those perfect fingers twitching like he has to physically restrain himself from snatching it out of your hand.

   you shake the bag to get his attention, but his eyes never leave your face. it’s kind of intimate if you let yourself think too much into it. “do you want the eclair or not? i made it.”

    he snatches his hand back dramatically. “never mind then. you can keep it.”

   you roll your eyes, grab his hand and place the bag in his palm. “don’t play the gentleman, seokjin; we’re all friends here. it doesn’t make you any less of a man to have someone buy you a fucking eclair.”

     you know how selfless seokjin is. of all the little quirks he has put on display for you since you met him, his selflessness has been the one that stands out the most. you see him battle with it now, the way he hesitates, the way his free hand twitches towards the wallet tucked into his back pocket. you give him one final look before he sighs and nods.

    “thank you.” 

   “now, tell me a bit about these plans you have for later.” you sip your coffee. “are these friends good people? do i need to be worried?”

    seokjin scoffs. “they are great people - i’ve known them for years. we’re just going out for a few drinks, a bit of a catch-up. nothing to be worried about.”

    “so i’ll have the B&B all to myself, will i?”

   he raises a brow. “don’t say it like that. you’re worrying me.”

   you roll your eyes, unable to fight the smile rising on your face. seokjin notices your amusement and shakes his head, because he knows you’re just winding him up. in all honesty, it makes you kind of glad seeing him go off and do his own thing. these past two weeks have really opened your eyes to just how much he works, and just how little time he has for himself. he deserves a bit of time with his friends.

   he leaves shortly after, claiming he has errands to run. he tells you to call him when you get home, and you agree to do so before waving him goodbye, watching through the window as he turns the corner and disappears amongst the crowd of people. 

    a hand lands on your shoulder.

   you jump back, startled. malachi laughs, holding his hands up in faux surrender; he’s a got a grin on his face, dimpleless, unlike seokjin, who has dimples just beneath the corners of his mouth, tiny little indents in his chin that you can never take your eyes off, because they’re so cute, and he gets so flustered when you point them out, and-

    “was that the husband?”

   you blink, certain you’ve heard him wrong. “what?”

   malachi nods towards the window. he’s got flour on his face, and you absentmindedly reach out and brush it off. “was that seokjin, or whatever his name is?”

   “did you just call him husband?”

   now it’s malachi’s turn to blink. he raises a brow, flicking his gaze between you and the door seokjin has just fled from. “is he not. . . do you two not live together?”

    “in a way,” you reply. “but we’re not married. he’s my friend, that’s all.”

    malachi scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “you had me fooled. ‘oh, call me when you get home!’ ‘have fun with your friends!’ ‘i’ll have the house all to myself!’ you certainly sound like an old married couple.”

    you really can’t believe you’re hearing this.

    it’s bizarre. utterly absurd. you and seokjin are definitely comfortable with each other at this point, but that doesn’t mean anything. he’s your friend - a good friend, your only friend in this new place. 

    plus, you don’t speak like an old married couple. that’s a stupid way to think. you two communicate like nothing more than two people who have been forced to sleep in the same bed for two weeks. 

    you shake your head. “i don’t even want to listen to this.”

   “so you’re telling me i’m wrong?” malachi demands as you shove past him into the kitchen.

   “yes, you are. that’s mental that you would even think that. i haven’t even known him that long-”

    “again, you could have fooled me! the way you two look at each other, it’s like you share memories from years ago.”

    you scowl, heat rising to your cheeks. “when the fuck did you become a poet?”

    malachi only laughs. you want him to shut up, because this is out of order. this is making you more flustered than it has any right to, and you don’t want to get flustered when you’re working with hot ovens.

    it’s not like he has any idea what he’s talking about. he’s seen the briefest glimpse of seokjin, certainly not enough to know how you two genuinely interact with each other. he hasn’t seen the bickering, the fights for the covers, seokjin huffing with you when you make him get up to turn the television off at the end of the night.

    so why are you getting so worked up?

   you push the question away as you get back to work, trying desperately to ignore malachi’s snickers every time he passes you; he knows what he’s done, of course, getting you all worked up like this, but you can’t help it. what if other people see you and seokjin like that? what if seokjin picks up on this assumption and decides to cut all ties with you, too afraid to be seen that close with someone like you?

    maybe you’re panicking over nothing. seokjin is a nice guy - the best guy. he won’t just up and leave you because of what other people think.

    but then again, you’ve only known him for two weeks, so who’s to say he won’t?

    ---

   seokjin has already left when you arrive home later that evening.

  it’s dark already, the winter showing it’s ugly head. little droplets of snow cling to your coat, your hair, your cheeks as you stumble through the door of your shared B&B, teeth gritted against the cold that has deemed your fingers and toes numb.

    left upon the bedside table is a note, the unmistakeable scribble of seokjin’s handwriting informing you that he doesn’t know when he will be home, but he still expects you to give him a ring whenever you finish work. you read the note over and over, unexplainable joy flaring within your system with the knowledge that he was thinking of you before he left, that he still wants to make sure you got home safe.

    you don’t call him.

    the thing is, malachi’s words have grated against your skull worse than you thought they should. he spent the entire day teasing you about your ‘little crush’ on seokjin, clearly relishing in how it made you squirm. it made you think, too, which is the worst part. you’ve spent these past two weeks on complete autopilot, just trying to make a life for yourself now that you’ve got a clean slate. you never once stopped to think about something as simple as relationships, or feelings, but now that malachi has sprung such a topic to the forefront, you can’t deny that the only person you can associate with such topics is seokjin.

    you can’t bring yourself to speak to him just yet. you’re too tired, and your body is sore, and you want nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend today never happened.

    so that’s exactly what you do. turning your phone on silent, you get in your pyjamas and snuggle beneath the covers, trying to ignore the empty space at the side of you. 

   ----

    you wake up to the sound of the door slamming.

   your eyes snap open, heart jolting from your chest. for the briefest moment, you are entirely convinced you’re being robbed. any minute now, the barrel of a gun is going to be pointed at your face and you’ll have no choice but to give up all of your belongings, all of seokjin’s belongings, will probably be forced back to Busan because of your trauma, and-

    “oh shit. are you sleeping?”

   you bolt upright, tugging the quilt to your chin. standing in the doorway, seokjin looks tall, illuminated only by the hallway light outside. he’s wearing a fancy dress shirt and trousers, the top button undone to reveal sweat slicked collarbones, the sleeves rolled up to reveal perfectly muscled arms. his hair stands on end, and he’s got a pout on his face that reveals his drunkenness in all it’s glory.

   your heartbeat slows.

   “seokjin?”

    he shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “no. no, sh. go back to sleep. i didn’t mean to wake you up.”

   his words are slurred. he’s definitely drunk.

   he stumbles towards the bed, using the bedside table to stay upright. he blinks drearily when his eyes meet yours; despite having just spoken to you, he’s looking at you now like he’s only just realised you’re actually in the room.

   he clicks his fingers. “i had something i wanted to say to you.”

    you blink. “o-okay. do you want water first? you look a little-”

   “it was really important,” he continues. “i’m pretty sure i was mad at you.”

   you swing your legs out of bed. “okay, you definitely need water.”

    you scramble to the sink, grabbing a glass from the counter and filling it with ice cold water. seokjin slumps on the bed, running his nimble fingers through his hair, mumbling incoherent words to himself.

    looking at the clock, you see it is two in the morning; he has work in five hours, and is clearly in no state to do a full day of work. you make a mental note to ring the restaurant and tell them he’s taken ill.

   you turn, placing the glass on the bedside table. “did you have a good time?”

    “no,” he replies. “worried. i was worried the entire night.”

   you raise a brow, trying your hardest not to look at the skin showing through his shirt. “worried? about what?”

    he gestures, encompassing the entire room.

   “seokjin, i can look after the room on my own, you know,” you say. 

   “i wasn’t worried about the room.” he scowls, glaring at the carpet like it’s upset his ancestors. “i couldn’t care less about the room. it’s whats in the room that worried me.”

   you blink. “you’re losing me, mate.”

    he groans, tossing his head back. the sudden jolt tips his entire body. you jump forward and grab his arm, stabilising him before he cracks his skull on the floor. 

   “seokjin, jesus christ, take a sip of your water.”

   he pushes your hand away. “not thirsty. just worried.”

   “about what?”

   “you didn’t call me when you got home from work!”

    you falter. you remember his note, of course, but you had promptly fell asleep before you could do as he’d asked; you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. however, he’s sat in front of you now with a pout on his face, eyes glaring like you’ve done something massively wrong.

   you swallow, trying to ignore the butterflies rushing through your stomach. “y-you were worried about me?”

    “i asked you to call me when you got home from work, and i didn’t get a single call the entire night. i thought you’d been kidnapped or something. the only reason i didn’t come storming back here was because my friends wouldn’t let me leave.”

    he’s lying. of course he is. he’s lying, and he’s drunk, and he’s going to regret ever pouring his heart out like this tomorrow morning.

   you hollow out your cheeks, overcome with a sudden wave of exhaustion. you gently pat his cheek, making his eyes widen.

   “what are you doing?” he asks.

    “i’m putting you to bed,” you reply, and even to yourself, your voice sounds tired, fed up, a mere drawl in the darkness. “you’re not going to work tomorrow, but you need to sleep this alcohol off. come on.”

    he scowls, glancing down at his attire; he’s still in his day clothes. “i can’t sleep in jeans.”

   you stare at him. he stares back at you, making no move to remove the clothes he has such a grudge against right now.

    you close your eyes, inhaling deeply. “fine then.” with that, you grab his belt and unbuckle it. a sharp gasp slips past his lips that you do a fine job of ignoring, even as it makes your cheeks heat up, forcing you to bite down on your tongue. you tell yourself on a loop that you’re just doing a favour for a friend, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them from his legs. the entire time, he stares at you with his mouth slightly open, tanned cheeks glowing red more from the alcohol than anything else. even in his drunken state, his gaze makes you weak. you’re not even making eye contact with him, instead choosing to keep your eyes firm on your trembling hands.

   when at last his jeans have been tossed across the room and he is left in a pair of boxers, you shove him back onto the bed and say, “now go to sleep. i’m gonna go for a shower.”

   seokjin rolls his head back. he sinks into the pillows, one side of his face completely engulfed by the fabric. “but it’s so late! what if you drown?”

    you head for the bathroom, trying to calm your stampeding heart. “i won’t drown. stop worrying about me.”

   “i always worry about you,” he grumbles. “you’re special to me.”

   you pretend you haven’t heard him. it’s so much easier than dealing with those words, than letting them wriggle into your brain, because they will do nothing but torment you the rest of the night.

    you slip into the shower, and it is there that you let yourself dissolve. you’re so tired, limbs heavy, heart still racing. not even the spray of hot water is enough to wake you up - the only thing keeping you on your feet right now is the memory of his drunken words, spoken slurred and rushed. he probably didn’t even mean them, but that doesn’t take from the fact he said them, and you heard them, and they’re going to complete destroy you if you keep thinking about them.

   ---

   seokjin nudges your shoulder.

   your eyes fly open, head jolting up. your neck cracks, making you yelp and fall back against the pillows - unfamiliar pillows, considering you fell asleep on the sofa the night before.

   you groan, rubbing the back of your neck as you slowly rise into a sitting position. seokjin stands over you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth parted. he doesn’t say anything as you bring yourself back to reality, glancing around the room like you’ve never seen it before.

    he takes a step back; he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, and he’s got a mug of fresh coffee in his hands. 

   you reach up and take the mug. “thanks.”

   “it wasn’t yours, but okay.” he sits down beside you, placing your legs in his lap. “is there a reason you fell asleep on the sofa last night? it doesn’t look very comfortable.”

   you blink, because for just a moment, you don’t think there is a reason. you’re ready to tell him nope, it was an accident, you just drifted off, haha, silly you!

   but last night doesn’t take long crawling back to the forefront of your mind. his words, his silly grin, your fingers on his belt buckle-

   you swallow the scalding drink and say, “i thought you might have liked the bed to yourself after your wild night out.” you nudge his arm. “how are you feeling today anyway? hungover?”

   he rubs his temple, though he doesn’t seem to be in too much pain; by the looks of things, he’s had a shower, which means he probably went for one of his morning runs beforehand. “i’ve got a bit of a headache, but nothing major. i don’t even remember how i got home.”

    oh, thank god.

    “i took care of you, don’t worry.” 

   seokjin scoffs. “i can see that. did i at least take my own trousers off?”

   you take another hasty sip of coffee. “yes, of course. i wouldn’t go near that area with a six foot pole.”

   seokjin rolls his eyes before standing up. he stretches his arms over his head, revealing a tiny lick of skin just above the waistband of his sweats. you look away sharply, causing another painful snap to course down your neck.

    you wince. “fucking hell.”

    he looks over his shoulder. “what?”

   “just my neck.”

   he drops his hands to his sides, turning to face you. his eyes narrow as he watches you rub the back of your neck, twisting your head from side to side in any attempt to get rid of the burning sensation dancing along the top of your spine. finally, he sits back down, puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you away from him.

   you falter. “uh, seokjin?”

   “i learned this when i was in Daegu a few years back.” he digs his fingers into the base of your neck, and immediately a pressure is released. it’s a pressure you didn’t even realise was there. 

    it disintegrates beneath his fingers, only to be replaced by another pressure, completely unrelated to mere muscle pain. it settles in your stomach, makes you stiffen beneath his grip, and he must notice, because he chuckles, and it takes the form of a breeze blowing against the back of your neck.

    you swallow. this really isn’t how you should be feeling right now. this entire situation should not be happening. seokjin is your friend. he’s that guy who saved you from a potential, second mental breakdown. he’s that guy you share a bed with completely out of inconvenience. he’s the guy you tease and eat dinner with.

    he’s seokjin.

   despite being fully aware of how out of place this entire experience is, you make no effort to shift away from him. in fact, almost against your will, you sink closer to him, your back hitting against his knees, and again, that gentle breeze tickles the back of your neck.

    “good?” his voice is gruff, quiet. 

    “good.” your voice is high pitched, embarrassing.

    seokjin chuckles again, a third time, before you feel his lips against your shoulder blade.

    the sensation is wild. it’s such a simple touch, nothing more than a peck against your flesh, but it sends your brain into a spiral. you hate yourself for it, how such a simple action can destroy you in seconds.

    and it’s destroying you, sending your brain into overdrive, but you want more of it. you desperately, desperately want more of it, and maybe that’s why you lean into his touch. maybe that’s why you let his hands slide around your waist. maybe that’s why you close your eyes, tilt your head back into the crook of his neck, let his plump lips explore your neck. you are in complete bliss, unable to even form words, fairly certain you’re losing yourself in-

    the phone rings.

   you jolt away from him, gasping as reality floods back into you. fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck, you can’t believe you just did that. you can’t believe you let yourself get lost like that.

   you jump up from the sofa and rush for the phone, too scared to spare seokjin a glance. he isn’t saying anything, which can only be a bad sign, and quite frankly, you haven’t even got your head screwed on well enough to deal with that.

    you grab the phone and pull it to your ear, all without looking at the caller id.

    “hello?”

   “y/n?”

   you inhale sharply. “robert. fuck. i’m late, aren’t i?”

   “are you well? it’s not like you to be late.”

   you run a hand through your hair, glancing at the clock on your nightstand - you’re only late by fifteen minutes, but that doesn’t change anything. you got distracted. you should have been paying closer attention.

    “i’m fine. sorry. so sorry. just - uh - slept in. i slept in. i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

   robert replies. you’re certain of it, but you don’t pick up on what he’s said. you slam the phone back down and spin, finally looking at seokjin. he’s dazed, staring back at you with eyes blown wide and mouth slightly open, slightly swollen, damp from where his tongue has surely traced patterns over them since you stood up.

   you swallow thickly. “i have to go to work.”

   “y/n-” 

   “you don’t have to say anything.” you snatch your keys off the bedside table, along with your phone and a pen that you don’t even need, but you just want to grab more stuff, just want to feel the heavy weight of objects in your hands. “i get it, okay? that was weird. we were both lost in the moment. you don’t have to explain yourself.”

   he opens his mouth to reply, but you’re on a roll with cutting people off before you can hear what they have to say. you dart out the door, yelling “see you later!” over your shoulder before the door slams closed behind you. 

   you waste no time. if you stop, you’re going to think, and the kinds of thoughts that will surely rush to the surface are not the kind you want to be dealing with right now.

   you arrive at the bakery in ten minutes, feet aching from how harshly they were slamming against the pavement in the cold, wet rain. nonetheless, you don’t care. you genuinely don’t care, not when you pull your coat off and slip your apron over your head, immediately snatching the oven gloves out of malachi’s hands.

   his head snaps up. that award winning grin flashes across his face when he says, “y/n! you made it!”

    “what are we making?” you ask. 

    malachi’s smile slips. “uh. . . i mean, it’s not that busy. there’s no rush. if you wanna grab a coffee or something before you start-”

    “i’ll make muffins.”

    malachi blinks. you don’t humour him with a response, instead getting to work immediately. you can feel him watching you from across the kitchen, dark eyes burning holes into the back of your head. you just keep working, even though your hands are beginning to tremble, and you can still feel seokjin’s mouth on your bare skin. your heart is yet to recover, still beating erratically in your chest.

   “y/n?” malachi mumbles. “are you sure everything’s alright?”

   you remember his words from the previous day, how bizarre they sounded when you first heard them; it just didn’t make any sense at the time that anyone would think seokjin had feelings for you, that he looked at you as anything more than a friend. you had gone home entirely convinced that you and seokjin would remain friends, and that was all, whether you liked it or not.

   but then he just has to go and do that, messing up every logical thought you once held. 

    you don’t even know if he likes you like that, or if it really was just a spur of the moment thing. he might have still had alcohol in his system. maybe he didn’t even know what he was doing.

    malachi’s hand on your shoulder startles you. you yelp, hands twitching, warm pan crashing to the floor. 

   “woah!” malachi grabs you, dragging you back before you can burn yourself. “careful there, mate.”

   you close your eyes. “fuck, i’m sorry. i didn’t-”

   “are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with you today or are we just gonna keep having incidents like this?”

   you meet his gaze; there is no malice in his words, no threat or disappointment. he’s worried about you. 

    you sigh, falling back against the counter. “just. . . seokjin things.”

    malachi pauses. “seokjin? the husband?”

   “he’s not my-”

   “the guy you live with? the guy who was here yesterday?”

    “that’s the one.”

   malachi picks up the warm pan with a towel. “what has he done? he seemed like a nice bloke.”

   “he’s an amazing bloke,” your quick to say, though the words make your cheeks heat up. “he really is amazing. he’s just also . . . very confusing.”

    malachi raises a brow. “confusing how?”

   “confusing. . .” you gesture vaguely, as if that in itself is a good enough adjective to describe just how confusing seokjin is. 

   malachi nods like he understands. he leans against the counter, shoulder brushing yours. for just a moment, it truly feels like there is nothing left to say; how do you comfort someone in a situation like this? how do you comfort anyone, let alone a person you’ve known for only a handful of days, someone you only know the bare bones about.

   nonetheless, malachi’s silence is reassuring. it calms you down to a point where you can gently take the pan from his hand and set it on the counter, your breathing straying back to a normal rhythm.

    “so,” he begins once you start gathering random ingredients. “correct me if i’m wrong, but i’m guessing seokjin did something that messed with your feelings a little bit?”

   you bite your lip, and that is response enough.

   “ah.” he pauses for another brief moment. “you weren’t uncomfortable with any of it, were you? ‘cause i’ll hang him up by his balls if he-” 

    “no!” the word is ripped from your throat, urgent. “no, malachi, it was nothing like that. seokjin would never do anything like that.”

   “then what did he do?”

   “he kissed me.” you pause. “kind of.”

   malachi’s eyebrows rise. you watch the cogs turning his brain, probably trying to understand the riddle you have just presented him.

   you hasten to clarify. “him and i have been purely friends from the moment we met. we live together just for convenience. he never showed signs of wanting to date anyone, let alone date me, and then this morning he just. . . got a little touchy, and it confused me, because i always just thought he didn’t want that kind of relationship with me.”

   “sounds like an awful lot of information on what he wants rather than what you want.”

   you frown. “what i want doesn’t matter.”

    malachi stares at you. you stare back, because you don’t want to think about what you want. you don’t want to dig into that dark crevice of your mind until everything else is sorted; you have to get your own life together before you can start thinking about sharing that life with someone else.

    especially someone like seokjin.

   someone who is perfect. someone who seems to have everything under control. he’s only young, not even thirty, and yet he’s travelling korea, cooking in top class restaurants, going out with friends who love him. he’s essentially living the dream.

    you’re just the person who intruded on that dream-like life, stumbling through your own life tragically.

    you look away as the thought strikes you; again, you can’t focus on that kind of thing. it’s scary. it’s uncharted territory, and you won’t let yourself be engulfed by it.

   ---

   when you arrive home, seokjin is cooking dinner.

    “ooh, something smells good!” you exclaim, trying to ignore the frantic thump of your heart.

    seokjin glances over his shoulder; his cheeks are burning red, an apron placed over his pyjamas. his hair is ruffled, and you know for a fact he’s only just now getting out of bed. he probably spent the entire day watching tv, and honestly, you envy him for it. your feet are aching for the long hours you put in at the bakery, and you want nothing more than to curl up and turn on some eastenders.

    “you’re home!” he replies. 

   “i’m home.” you shake your coat off and approach. “what are you making?”

   “spaghetti bolognese. something simple.”

   “i never took you as the type to do anything simple.”

    he grins, shooting you a wink. you hide your smile with an eye roll and grab some bowls from the cupboards, setting them down beside his work station before getting to work on grating the cheese; you know seokjin loves to smother his spaghetti in cheese. you’ve teased him about it on countless occasions.

    “so, how was work?” he asks, scooping the pasta into two bowls. 

    “quiet,” you reply. “malachi and i did some inventory for the ingredients, and robert was gone half the day for a business meeting.”

    “must have been pretty stressful.”

   you shrug, nodding a thanks as seokjin passes you your dinner. “it was nice. there weren’t too many customers in, so it was pretty chill.”

   seokjin sits down beside you, shoulder brushing yours. 

   you frown, glancing at his bowl. “how come you got more pasta than me?”

   “i cooked it.” he twirls some pasta onto his fork and shoves it in his mouth. “therefore, i get the majority of it.”

    “i was at work all day, starved to near insanity-”

    “bit dramatic.”

    “let me have some!”

    before seokjin can move, you dig your fork into his bowl, scoop some pasta up and slap it back into your own. seokjin’s eyes widen, splutters slipping past his lips. you simply grin, popping a forkful into your mouth.

    “you know,” he begins, voice low, “i would have given you some if you’d given me the chance.”

    “that’s alright. i’ve got it now.”

    seokjin scowls, slumping back against the sofa. he stares at the side of your head for what feels like forever, and you feel every goosebump his gaze induces. 

    he hasn’t brought up what happened that morning, which doesn’t make you feel too good. you spent the entire day reliving the scene in your head, feeling the echo of his lips against your shoulder blade, and he’s sat beside you now, pretending nothing even happened. does he do that with lots of people? is he just a natural flirt and you never even picked up on it?

    because, at the end of the day, you really don’t know seokjin all that well. you’ve grown fond of his personality and him as a person, but how much does that tell you about a person? not an awful lot, that’s for sure.

   you squirm a little, unable to hide your mild discomfort; there’s a tension pressing between you both, but you don’t know if he feels it, too. when you glance over your shoulder, he’s just lounging, that stupid smile on his face, staring at you like he knows how flustered you are and siphons nothing but joy from it.

    you’re going to explode. any minute now, your body is going to go up in flames. you need to say something. you need to do something.

    so you turn, open your mouth and- 

    his lips are on yours in seconds.

    how he moved so fast, you are unsure, but the question doesn’t even matter as you melt into his grip entirely against your will. his lips mould against yours, so perfect, made for each other, but there is a voice in the back of your head screaming that this is wrong, that this is an entire friendship on the line, and are you really ready to destroy that for the sake of a passing fancy?

    you let yourself kiss him back for a few more seconds. you just want to savour it. you just want to run your fingers through his hair a few more times before finally pulling yourself together.

   you jerk back a little too hastily. he gasps at the sudden loss of contact, eyes wide, one hand still hovering in the air where he once cradled your face.

    you swallow, standing up. you run your hands down the front of your jeans, shaking your head, trying not to make a scene, but all the emotions you felt this morning are coming back, and you’re just confused again. confused, and agitated, and you want nothing more than to ravish him, but at what cost?

    he looks up at you. “y/n?”

    it’s just your name, but it shatters you. it’s always sounded so good coming from his lips. it’s always sounded so natural.

    “i’m sorry,” you choke out. “uh - i just - i don’t think-”

   seokjin stands up. “don’t apologise. i’m sorry - i shouldn’t have just assumed-”

    “i really like you, seokjin, but-”

   “but not like that. don’t worry, i get it. i completely understand.” he rubs the back of your neck, cheeks glowing bright red. “we can just forget anything ever happened.”

   your stomach curls; you don’t want to do that. you won’t be able to do that, but you humour him with a curt little nod. he smiles warily, hesitates just a bit before slumping down on the sofa and grabbing his spaghetti again. he doesn’t ask you to sit with him. he doesn’t ask you if you’re alright. he just turns the tv on and carries on eating, not giving you a second glance when you awkwardly walk right past the sofa and get into bed.

    ----

     the days are awkward.

   awkward, and borderline unbearable, to put it simply.

   you go to work. so does seokjin. you both come home, eat dinner, and then go to bed, but neither of you know what to say or do in between those crucial moments. 

    seokjin doesn’t even joke around with you like he used to. he just laughs at your own pitiful attempts to lighten the mood before asking you what you want for dinner. once you respond, he uses it as an excuse to ignore you for the rest of the night as he goes off and makes it.

   it really is ripping you apart. he was your friend, but he was also your crush.

   yes, your crush. like some stupid high school drama. every time you saw him, your heart fluttered and you would go to sleep to thoughts of his arms around you, even if such a scenario once seemed so out of the equation.

   and he likes you back. you know that. he kissed you, for crying out loud! nonetheless, there’s that voice in the back of your head reminding you that he is so much better than you, that he has his life together entirely whilst you don’t even have an outline of where you want yours to go.

    two people so different in nature would never last long together, and that would leave you with not a trace of seokjin in your life. you didn’t want that.

    but it’s kind of what you’ve been given anyway. 

    nowadays, you don’t even say goodbye to him when you leave for work, even if he’s awake. you just tug on your uniform and start walking, locking the door behind you because he has his own set of keys and he can unlock it whenever he wants. 

   you’re miserable at work, too, which doesn’t make you a blast to be around, a fact that malachi points out on a daily basis. every time he sees you, he rolls his eyes and tells you to cheer up, but you’ve gotten to the point where you just don’t care any more - you’re gonna bring the mood down, and that’s all there is to it. you’re not going to try and fix it until you’ve fixed yourself.

   which is taking an awfully long time when you’re constantly surrounded by the problem.

    it’s been a week and a half now. you walk home, sluggish and anxious, but stupidly excited to see seokjin nonetheless. that’s how this always goes. that’s why it’s so fucking confusing. 

    you unlock the door, step inside, and immediately your heart drops into your stomach.

    seokjin looks up from his suitcase and gives you the weariest smile you have ever seen him wear. it’s crooked, the dimples not even appearing. it’s fake. 

    you pause in the doorway, fingers tightening on the door knob. “what are you doing?”

     he looks back down at the pile of clothes - his clothes - he has stacked upon the bed. he bites his lower lip, takes a moment to respond, and your heart is going to burst.

   “seokjin...” you step into the room, wincing at the door closing behind you. “what are you doing? why have you got all your stuff out?” 

    “i’ll keep paying the room. it’s the least i can do.”

   you drop your bag to the floor. “fuck off. no way. you’re joking.”

   “y/n-”

   you stumble back as he stumbles forward. your back hits against the door, and he pauses like he’s just realised he’s scaring a timid animal.

    “fuck off.” you shake your head, swiping your hand beneath your eyes; there are tears. already. great. “are you serious? you couldn’t have told me?” 

    seokjin rubs the back of his neck. “things haven’t been right since-”

   “i know that! i know they haven’t, but god, what fucking age are you?” you’re yelling now, unsure where all this anger has come from. “we’re grown adults, seokjin! so what you kissed me? that doesn’t mean we can’t sit down and talk about you literally moving out!”

    “this was never a permanent place for me anyway, and you knew that!” he exclaims. veins protrude from his neck. he looks so attractive, it’s almost dizzying. “it’s a fucking B&B, y/n!”

    “that’s so far from the point,” you growl. “the point is, you’re moving out, leaving me on my own, and you didn’t even bother to tell me!”   

    “what would it have done?”

   “it would have stopped us from having this argument!”

   seokjin scoffs. “you having a bit of sense would have stopped us from having this fucking argument!”

    you shake your head, raising a trembling hand. “nah, you know what, fuck you. all you are is a selfish little twat who only thinks about himself. so leave. go off somewhere, cook your fancy fucking meals, and don’t bother paying another penny towards this room because i’ve got it handled. i’m not that little bitch sobbing on the subway any more.”

    “no. instead you’re that little bitch yelling at me for no reason-”

    “are you serious?”

    “you know what, i didn’t want to leave here angry. i’ve had some fantastic times in this room, but you just make it so difficult. you drive me insane sometimes!”

   you laugh bitterly, head thrown back and eyes wild. “do i? do i really, seokjin? so why the hell did you kiss me?”

     and something inside him snaps. you can see it in the flames that rise in his expression, in the way his knuckles immediately glow white with the grip he now has on forearm. 

   “because i’ve never met anyone who can do that to me, ever, and it was the hottest fucking thing in the world.”

     not exactly romantic, but you freeze nonetheless.

   seokjin tilts his head. “is that what you wanted to hear? do you want me to go into detail about how sleeping beside you without touching you was the hardest fucking thing for me? do you want me to go into detail about how i wanted to rip malachi’s head off when he made you laugh that one time at the bakery? do you want me to go into detail about how leaving is the only thing that is going to keep me sane, because if i’m around you for another minute with you hating me, i’m going to die.”

     you blink. you blink, and blink, and you stare at him, waiting for the punchline. all he does is pant, shoulders rising and falling, cheeks flushed red. he can’t even look at you. instead, he turns on his heel and marches back to his suitcase, grabbing another pile of clothes and stuffing it haphazardly on top of the others.

    “there,” he grumbles. “just rip the fucking confession out of me, will you? god, calling me selfish. if you want me to stay here when i’m being driven mental, that makes you selfish. i offered to keep paying for the house-”

    “seokjin.”

    “i wouldn’t just leave you with nothing. i’m not a dick. but if you really think that, then-”

  shit. 

    you rush forward before he can sink further into that theory. 

   you grab his arms, pulling him round to face you, and with one hand clipped to the back of his head, you drag him down and kiss him.

    it’s not practised. you certainly didn’t come home tonight thinking you would be kissing seokjin by the end of it, but you make the most of your spontaneity. 

    he stumbles a little bit, clearly taken off guard, but he catches himself soon enough and grabs your waist, pulling you closer. your hips clash against his. your hands ruffle his hair. his tongue bashes against yours because this kiss is more than just a declaration of. . . of whatever it is you’re feeling. this kiss is sloppy, and ravenous, and frustration all pulled into one, and it shows. it really, really shows as seokjin spins and pushes you back onto the bed, just managing to dodge his neat piles of clothes.

   you shove one off the bed and drag him on top of you.

   he groans, kissing your neck. “it took me an hour to fold those.”

    “they’re gonna get messy anyway.”

    his eyes sparkle. “oh?”

    you pull him back down, determined to lose yourself in the feel of him against you, the feel of his surprisingly strong arms circling your waist. you forget everything. you let yourself forget everything, instead savouring this moment in all it’s entirety. it’s easily done when seokjin sprinkles fire across your neck, your stomach, your thighs. it’s easily done when he lets you do the same thing, touching him in places you once thought you would never touch.

    you wonder, as his lips find your own, how you ever thought this would be anything less than perfect. 

----

    you wake up the next morning, knowing you don’t have to go to work, feeling more refreshed than you have in weeks.

    you stretch, fingers snatching at the covers in search of seokjin. when they reach no conclusion, you peek open one eye and glance across the room, not surprised to see him standing in front of the mirror, fingers trailing through the hair your own fingers had attacked the previous night.

   you slump back against the pillows. “can you not call in sick?”

    his eyes snap up. he grins, those dimples popping just beneath the corners of his mouth. “afraid not. i didn’t know you were awake.”

    “i wasn’t until approximately two seconds ago.”

    he turns and walks towards the bed. kneeling on his side - and it has unconsciously become his side - he bends down and presses a kiss to your forehead; you wrinkle your nose, very aware of the sweat you didn’t wash off yourself last night, very aware of the fact you haven’t brushed your teeth or your hair, or made any effort at all.

    nonetheless, seokjin grins at you. “who would have thought you would look so beautiful after we fucked.”

   you gasp, shoving him away.

   he chuckles, going back to fixing his hair in the mirror. 

   but now that he brings it up, memories of the previous night rise to the surface; you remember most of it very well, because it was the best you’ve felt in a very, very long time. it was pleasure and relief and happiness all rolled into one, and you never wanted it to end.

    but then there was the moments before that, when you had both spoken words neither of you meant.

   at least, you didn’t mean what you said.

   seokjin must notice your sudden demeanour shift, as he glances over and says, “it’s water under the bridge.”

   you sit up, tugging the quilt around your bare chest. “we should talk about it.”

   “and say what?”

   “and apologise.”

   he turns. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i didn’t mean a single thing i said.”

   “either did i.”

    “good.” he turns back to the mirror. “that’s that sorted then. we can go back to being madly infatuated with each other.”

    you purse your lips; maybe he is a little bit upset. in all honesty, you wouldn’t be surprised; you said some pretty hurtful things in the moment, things you will regret for the rest of your life. even though seokjin knows - he must know - that you didn’t mean any of it, that doesn’t mean it won’t plague his mind for the next little while.

   you rise from the bed, forgetting the quilt - it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, of course. he watches your movements through the mirror, his lower lip slowly - sexily - disappearing behind his teeth. 

   you wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your bare chest into his back. you listen to his breaths, slow and trained, like he’s trying to keep himself calm. part of you wants him to just lose control, to just spin around and take you into his arms, to forget about work and everything else.

   but he’s seokjin. he’s got his life together. he won’t do that.

   you press a kiss to the back of his neck and whisper, “i really am sorry. you’re the most amazing man i’ve ever met. the most selfless, amazing man in the world.”

    he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “t-thank you.”

    “and i can’t wait for you to finish work so i can show you just how much i appreciate you.”

   he groans, low in his throat. “i have to go to work.”

    you nuzzle your head between his shoulder blades. “i never said you didn’t.”

    he pulls away, spins around and kisses you. deeply, feverishly, like he’s never going to return and this is the last time he will ever get to hold you like this. you melt against him, giggling against his mouth as his hands cup your face and he pants against you.

   finally, he pulls away and shakes his head. his eyes are wide, blown out when he points at you and says, “we’re not finished yet, understand? i’ll be back in, like, eight hours.”

   you lay back on the bed, all naked flesh on show. “and i’ll be right here waiting for you.”

[shesawriter39049]

|MUTED| M|

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader (Side Jin)

About- Yoongi goes down on you in the back seat while you’re on a business call....Jin’s driving, lowkey watching..and being a little shit the entire time...

Or- You’re on the phone with a dick of an investor and a second away from losing your shit and calling off the entire deal...however...your boys decide to “distract” you. Give you a little something to keep you at ease so you don’t blow this 6 figure account…

WC: 3K

Disclaimer: TBA

Note: Yoongi  and Jin will STILL have a full one-shot, backstory, and all like I did for Tae, and Joon. I’ve just been sitting on this for about a month...so I decided to post it. There is a little plot at the end as well but nothing too deep...This is apart of my BTS Poly AU called “ 7 Deep”  Short summary of the overall plot :  Your Married to Namjoon, however you’re both in a open relationship and run a very successful Adult Entertainment company called “Onyx” with your 5 college lovers AKA BTS Minus Kookie! He comes in mid series as a new hire..... 

~~~~

Your practically vibrating your so damn angry, a second away from cracking a molar from clenching your jaw so tight in an attempt to muzzle every smart ass remark drying to slip off your tongue. 

It never ceased to amaze you how fucking entitled and utterly unreasonable the rich can be..and to most standards, you and your husband now fall into that category. However, you have some ounce of ...shit I don’t know...compassion...morality...humbleness?! I.E  Everything this fucking french investor was clearly lacking and he was pushing your last button…

Feet pattering anxiously against the ground…..

“Trust me, Guy, I understand that, I truly do, but what I think your failing to understand is-” 

“Put the call on mute” The words hushed against your lips, in an oddly commanding tone for how faint his voice was, as a strong hand gripped your jaw. Halting anything else from leaving your lips until you did just that…”Now..”

Clearly far too busy being royally pissed off to even notice Yoongi climbing into the backseat, what you didn’t miss, however, was Jin losing his damn mind in the process. Yelling out about how he just got this thing detailed 2 days ago, Yoongi’s shoes a dirty, why the fuck must he act like he’s lacking any form of home training..blah blah blah…

Honestly, the two of them were literally equivalent to an old married couple at this point!

Eyes wide and defensive at how blatantly ticked off he looks as those sinfully sharp eyes gaze straight through you. 

“Don’t even, you heard how-”  Before you can even start to bitch Mr. Min is kissing you quiet, when your lips meet it feels like they’re going to bruise from how hard he kisses you. Keeping his fingers firm against your jaw, essentially ensuring you have no control in the situation. Forcing you to move at his pace. Yoongi grunts, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth before quickly snaking his tongue between the seam of your lips. Much to no one’s surprise, Guy seems to have not even notice and is still talking your damn ear off as we speak. 

Ahh, the beauty of technology, ear pods keeping you in the loop while your hands are free to roam up Yoongi’s back, settling with your nails clawing at the nape of his neck. The kiss is deep, and oddly slow considering the situation at hand, not letting up until your both breathing deeply through your noses. Yoongi’s tongue sliding against your own as you massage his scalp, reclining your neck, finally giving up any ounce of control you tried to have, giving him free rein of your mouth, .

A snort coming from the front seat, snaps the two of you back to reality…

“You need to calm down…” Forehead flush against your own however no matter how calm his delivery is this isn’t a request...not even close..

“But-” 

The arch in Yoongi’s brow challenging you to even consider challenging him...though you weren’t one to give up without a fight until...

“He’s right princess” Jin’s eyes meet you through the rearview mirror and you just straight up pout, he coos affectionately, flashing you a quick smile before bringing his attention back to rush hour traffic! 

 “I know he’s a dick, trust me I talked to him first remember? But, we could really use this account, it will make us an easy 6 figures, and more importantly once he’s out fo the way it will be a cakewalk on my end to maintain…” 

Your pout only exzadarates especially once you hear Guy start to mention how he feels as though you owe him an apology as if he hasn’t been acting like a dick this entire time. Like hello!? Where the two of you on two seperate calls orrrrr!!??  The slight growl that leaves your chest, as you reach up to take the call off mute and comment has Yoongi smacking your phone out your palm.

‘Aye..what did we just say??” Flicking your chin playfully a slight smile stugging on the corner of his lips. Yoongi was never one for harsh tones yet he always held so much control within his delivery ...He wasn’t a “Call me daddy, and bend over” kinda dom, he really woluldn’t consider himself a dom at all..he just..knew he could be in control if he chose...and today he chose...

“We need….” He drops his posture placing himself on his knees right in front of you in Jins’s back seat. “You to calm down, so we can close this deal baby...” 

Reaching up to stroke your thighs teasingly and he feels you tense, refusing to spread them. A smirk playing on his lips and he turns his head to the side...catching Jin’s gaze in the mirrior…

Fuck….

You don’t even need to glance up to see the shit-eating grin on Jin’s face,,. for to know your totally fucked right now… literally and figuratively…

 “Be a good girl for Yoongi princess….oh and Yoon?”

“Mmm?” Tone dry clearly uninterested as he forces your thighs apart, resting his chin on your knee...Yoongi just smirks, looking up to you like he’s about to fuckin ruin you..eyes dark already blown out...leaving slow lingering kisses up your thighs...gaze never leaving yours... 

“I meant what I said earlier...I just got this thing detailed...soo unless you wanna pay for it to be redone...you better be ready to lick up every drop…” Jin knows what he’s doing, tone drops to an octave that has your toes curling and your legs spreading on command, giving Yoongi easy access to prop them on either side of his shoulders… 

“That’s fuckin fine with me, I didin’t plan to let a drop leave my tongue anway...” 

Before you can even respond, or fuckin recover from how light-headed you already feel, said asshole is actually requiring you to respond now so you’re forced to take the call of speaker…

Yoongi smirks up and you something wicked as he hooking his finger around the front of your panties... “Take.The call. off...Mute...” 

I’ll be posting this soemtime next week.......the other two installments are linked below as well. Like I mention previously I am open to member/plot ideas as long as it works within the acutal “Universe” 

Part 1 : After Hours Joon x Reader( Side Tae)

Part 2 : Pretty Please Tae X Reader (Side Joon) 

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs

Banner credit

This is the fourth and last weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 1 week to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the AR fandom. Enjoy and hope to see you next week!

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

Our Endless Numbered Days by Galimau Just your run of the mill heartwarming look at the quiet beats of Alex and Yassen's relationship...after the apocalypse.  Soft and sweet this fic focuses on the very still and quiet moments of two men at the end times trying to hold onto the things that bring them joy. It's an intimate view of what Alex and Yassen's life could be like of all their cares were quite literally wiped away - excellent  world building and writing make this a must read.

Yalex art by Ireliss Alex and Yassen in a lake! Everything about this picture is perfect - the light, the colours, the feeling of stillness... Probably the most beautiful picture of Alex and Yassen I've ever seen.

Sun Poisoning by fElBiTeR Angsty, beautiful, slowburn soulmate fic with a twist on the usual tropes and gorgeous imagery

Twisting, Turning, Tumbling by ShiruyTheSecond A glacially slow burn, road trip au, and sick fic all mashed into one fic, in non-chronological order based on 100 themes. I'd say this was one of the gateway fics into Yalex for me; there's nothing like reading a longfic you thought was gen and wishing it were slash, only for the realization to hit you in the face like a brick 50 something chapters later. Alex is on the run for a variety of reasons after a mission for MI6 goes spectacularly wrong, so he surprisingly finds himself leaning on Yassen for help, experincing whumpage along the way. Absolutely delicious.

Specific Performance by BurntWhisper Alex is a good spy, good enough that SCORPIA has tasked Yassen with killing him. Yassen can't do that but he can give Alex a very...enthusiastic going away present even Alex hasn't been a very good boy. It's a fun look at Alex and Yassen's first fling with callbacks to the original gen fic. That hits every perfect note and hits a few other things too.

Interlude by Suzie_Shooter Incredibly soft and fluffly Yalex that ends with an unexpected top!Alex and bath sex. Will absolutely warm your heart the way it does mine every time I read this fic.

Medicine by Suzie_Shooter The other fic in response to the prompt of "Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth" except this one is praise kink while the other is humiliation kink! Specifically focused on a smoking hot blowjob and Alex's reluctance turned enthusiam, plus, there's a second chapter, just in case one dose of the antidote isn't enough.

One Year by BurntWhisper The slowest of slow burns featuring Alex and Yassen on the run from MI6, SCORPIA and their own feelings. Covering 3 months of their life on the run this fic features action as well as the slow, quiet moments where the budding relationship can truly shine through and behind it all the intelligence world continues to grind on threatening to take their happiness with it. It's a beautiful fic with strong, detailed writing and the emotional weight that it deserves.

Midnight Smoke by Hijja If you're in the mood for darker fics with plenty of Yassen hurting Alex complete with violence and heavy dubcon, Hijja has you covered. This particular fic features a mission-type premise with Alex being sent to investigate a spate of teen abductions only to be captured. Yassen is there, and he has his own goals...

Hello Alex by anonymous Fanart: a reunion hug between Yassen and Alex.

Face The Truth by capeofstorm Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth. Yassen is absolutely a man to take advantage. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Lights Out by Suzie_Shooter Yassen and Alex left tradecraft behind for a new life in the Greek islands. Ten years on, their relationship is still going strong and they've become island locals, the proprietors of a sailing club and a windsurfing business. Their idyllic life is disrupted by a new threat that wants them dead. I just love the premise of Yalex riding off into the sunset and not looking back. This fic not only has suspense, action, hot sex, and the intimacy borne of ten years...but once you're done, there are two excellent sequels and a prequel to lap up!

Villa in the Sun by BoldAsBrass A multi-chapter story within a story as Yassen and Alex keep in touch over the phone through a tale of a Russian bodyguard's encounters with a young English man. This is so cleverly done and beautifully written; I could re-read it and re-read it (in fact, that's exactly what I've done).

Sting in the Tail by Suzie_Shooter With the world hanging in the balance, MI6 presses an imprisoned Yassen into service. They use Alex to convince him, but also a nasty "sting in the tail" incentive to guarantee results. A thrilling Yalex mission!fic where Yassen and Alex forge their trust in each other by facing mortal danger and saving the world together. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, eating up the slow burn and wondering how on earth they were going to succeed with all the obstacles Scorpia and MI6 threw in their way.

Rarely Pure And Never Simple by fElBiTeR Non-con > dub-con > fuck-yes-con speedrun. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Just Say I Do by Nanimok I'm possibly biased because this was written for me, but 'woke up married' is a great trope and this is both snarky and adorable. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Open Invitation by Suzie_Shooter After Ian's death in TV 'verse, fifteen-year-old Alex is living alone in a depressive, self-destructive spiral. He realizes someone is watching him at home...and decides to give them something more compelling to watch. I am squicked out by creepers, but the characterizations tackle the thorny elements head-on: Yassen's mixed feelings and understated pursuit tactics are 100% believable, as is Alex's volatility; he's alternately confused, provocative, and defiant. Exhibit A:“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?” The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. “What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. Plot ensues, because how can a relationship possibly form from such a premise? Mind the tags (you might trip into your next kink because the sex is mind-blowingly hot).

Flirting with Danger by BoldAsBrass Basically THE gateway fic into Yalex for me - short and sweet, snappy narration and dialogue, a sleekly dangerous Yassen and Alex who might be a skilled, pragmatic adult but quickly realises he's in over his head. Sprinkle in a bit of dubcon and scorching hot writing and you get this perfect fic.

Burning a Dead Man's Fingertips by GreenQueenofClubs Multichapter slow burn, MI6!Yassen AU - an excellent premise done extremely well and feels fresh and new, balancing mission-style fic with character development! The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is somewhat different here compared to most Yalex fics as they don't meet until Alex is an adult; a really intriguing glimpse into what could have been...

A Little Pat Down by Nanimok Airport security can be frustrating at the best of times but couple it with being edged like none other by an assassin turned security guard and it can really be a pain in the ass. A filthy but extremely well written premise. Crack taken seriously is this author's strong suit so not a single one of their works will steer you wrong.

Yalex Ballet AU by anonymous Yalex ballet AU with absolutely gorgeous imagery and slow burn. Fluid prose and in the background, the shadows of past histories and things unsaid.

Gentleman's Agreement by Valaks Yassen and Alex have a "gentleman's agreement" for handling their business in the field. No one ever said anything about parent-teacher conferences. Claims to be gen, but deserves a place on this list for subtle genius alone, because with lines like "Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age" and "How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands", what are we supposed to think....? UST in all caps is the best description.

Salty the Sweat on my Fingertips by Galimau A fun little romp of Alex visiting Tom and having to call his overly protective boyfriend? because he's pregnant and everything hurts. Beautifully written, this fic explores the ending of Oceanbreeze7's Moonfish and follows the extremely creative monster biology to its logical conclusion of Alex getting knocked up.

Slipping Through My Fingers by Nanimok This kink meme fill hits in all the right places as we watch through the eyes of a very jealous Julius as Yassen gives Alex all the attention he needs. The writing is, as always, on point and the characterization of Julius gets absolutely nailed (almost as much as Alex). Julius/Alex, Yassen/Alex

Other

Miss Julia by DantesThird Very creepy and traumatic noncon but really believable with Julia Rothman's obsession with John Rider. Alex/Julia Rothman

gone loose inside the shell by cyanides Fantastic messed-up fic where Julius keeps fantasising about killing Alex, but then the fantasies take a different turn. The possessive 'If I can't have you no-one can' dynamic really encapsulates the ship for me, and the fic stuck in my mind afterwards. Alex/Julius

smoke haze by Ireliss Dubcon, gun kink. A really intriguing and quite dark exploration of a young Yassen's situation with Scorpia and his very complex relationship with Hunter. John/Yassen

Our Settling Bones by Galimau A multi-chapter slow burn focused on a former assassin who has lost everything...and Yassen Gregorovich. The tension is off the charts and the characerization is on point. Everything you could want from the rarest of pairs. John Wick/Yassen

Lemniscate by Ireliss A look at what awaits Yassen when he arrives back at Scorpia after killing Vladimir Sharkovsky. This is deliciously dark as well as being entirely plausible. The sensory descriptions are fantastic. Yassen/Julia Rothman

[maggiecheungs]

2020 ~everything~ wrap

i finally have time to do all of the tag games that people have tagged me in over the past month or so! i cannot for the life of me remember who tagged me in which one, so i’m just putting ~everything~ in one huge post. if i tag you anywhere then consider it a standing invitation to do whichever of these you haven’t done :) in fact, this is me issuing a standing invite to any of my followers who wants to do it :) also, thank you all!

Creator Wrap: Favourite Works

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

this collection of philosophy quotes paired with thai bl series, (and its sequel) which is possibly my favourite thing i’ve ever made. for, uh, nerd reasons.

these gifted text post memes i made still make me laugh sometimes

this fic about green from 2gether, which i wrote in the notes app on my phone and published the same day. not my absolute best writing but i am very fond of it <3

i have a bunch fof friend zone dangerous area edits/shitposts which i like, but i’m particularly fond of my fzda as satire headlines (which now has a sequel!)

i also love my crisgood-walmart-lesbian post. i might send it in to gmmtv to try and convince them to do a crisgood-bffs spin-off

+ bonus: since i wrote this list i made this gifset (my first ever!) of jennie panhan in the shipper and i love her too much not to include her on here

+ extra nerdy bonus: this niche meme about Chinese philosophy, which still makes me crack up whenever I think about it

Favourite Creators/Follow Forever

i’ve completely lost track of who’s following who from which blog, so this is just going to be a haphazard, non-exhaustive list of people who i adore/admire/am vaguely intimidated by, mutuality be damned. maybe we talk all the time! maybe we’ve never interacted! maybe i am constantly there in ur tags... lurking... 👀... but if you’re on this list you have made me smile at least once this year and i love you for that alone <3

@wjmild kylie!! you make gifs of arm & tay & lee (separately or in various combinations) & the shipper & and kapook & random fluke pusit cameos & school rangers so i don’t have to <3 ilysm

@janeramida vianey, you have such impeccable taste in general, but your sizzy gifset in particular is so gorgeous it lives in my mind rent free

@applelapis bri, this post was a callout and i want you to know that it haunts me at night as i lie awake staring at the ceiling :((((( i hope you are happy

@gigiesarocha cata, i love it when you show up on my dash bc you have!! such taste!! also, every time you gif gigie i gain five years of life <3 pls continue doing the Good Work

@pvrrish​ eleni, i remeber legit thinking that this was an official poster when i first saw it, it’s so beautiful

@ahysopae​ juliette your khaithird fic is so good and it literally changed the way i think about khai (not an easy feat)

@kurosawadachi angel, whenever i think about grace’s speech i remember your gifset and get literal chills

@doctorbahnjit alexa, you have no right to be as funny as you are. your friend zone edits give me life

@khaotungthanawat sam, you’re probably sick of getting tagged in these lists by random strangers, but i just had to bc your gifsets are Pure Art

@tanwirapong roa, all your gifsets are so ✨iconic✨

faiza @asianmelodrama and rahul @petekaos! yours were the first two thai drama blogs i followed and for ages i lowkey thought of you as my fandom parents.

and some more blogs that make me happy: @curlykytta / @lee-thanat  / @fck-inspector-m / @pangwave / @tichawongtipkanon / @tawanv @kimmonv (violet istg i have spent more time this year trying to figure out how many blogs you have than i have spent admiring your gifsets. & i spend a lot of time admiring your gifsets) / @taytawan / @1akorn and @yihwas (and your radiant lovechild @lakornladies ofc) / @teh-ohaew / @vihokratanas (mel your gifsets are just so gorgeous) / @tootiredtoosadtooangry / @headcompletelyempty / @demiromanticmickey​ / and there are definitely more but my brain is a sieve so apologies if i’ve forgotten anyone!! i love you all!! 

2020 HIGHLIGHTS ✨

rules: list your top 10 shows (bl or not) you watched in 2020 (doesn’t necessarily have to be shows that came out in 2020 though!)

1. 2GETHER & STILL2GETHER

my first thai drama, and even after all the amazing shows i’ve watched this year, it still has a special place in my heart. watching 2gether was the first time i’d ever seen a queer romcom that just... was. for me, by the simple fact of its being, 2gether was revolutionary. and then still2gether came along and took all the best things about the first season and gave us something beautiful and quiet and lovely and just proved to me, once and for all, that queer happiness doesn’t need to justify its own existence. there can be gay cuddles on the beach for no other reason than that we want them. 

2. UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

i don’t really have the words for this one but. it makes my heart so very soft.

3. FRIEND ZONE 2: DANGEROUS AREA

season one was mindless fun because everyone was an absolute trashfire and it was hella cathartic to watch, but season 2... wow. i love it for so many reasons: it has messy and authentic queer rep; the characterisation is excellent and i somehow care about all of the characters; amazing women taking centre stage(!); a wlw relationship with lesbian, ace and bipolar rep; multiple interesting plotlines; actual character development; arm weerayut as a chaos gremlin... absolutely one of my favourites of 2020.

4. CHERRY MAGIC

i don’t think i need to explain this one, which is fortunate, because i have no idea how exactly i’d describe the happy-warm-fuzzy-queer-seen-loving-affirmed-profound feeling that rises in my chest whenever i think about it. 

5. THE GIFTED: GRADUATION

confession: i liked season 2 more than season 1 (with the exception of the ending, which we don’t talk about). season 1 was enjoyable and interesting, but for me it was season 2 which made me love this series. it did some incredibly interesting and complicated things (even if it didn’t quite nail the landing): it pushed characters to the breaking point and wove so many layers into the story and questioned its own underlying themes. plus, watching it alongside everyone in the fandom made it 200% better. i love all of you and i love this show. egg girl 5eva.

6. THE SHIPPER

i 100% understand why so many people didn’t like this show, or found it problematic, but through some fluke it absolutely worked for me (even the ending). one day i will write an essay explaining my rationale, but for now i’ll just say that it’s one of my favourite shows about adolescence and queerness and identity and compassion and friendship and love that i’ve ever watched. 

7. YYY

this series is absolutely off its rocker, and it somehow managed to be one of the most affirming shows i’ve watched. it shouldn’t have worked by it did, and i love it so much.

8. 3 WILL BE FREE

absolutely iconic. amazing plot, stunning visuals, great characters, canon polyamory, jennie being incredible... what a series.

9. MANNER OF DEATH

i love the fact that this show exists; i love the mix of crime and romance; i love maxtul’s acting; i love the central relationship; i love bun. i know we’re not even halfway through yet, but this show is doing something special and i’m so grateful that i get to watch it unfold in real time. 

10. CHIHAYAFURU (SEASON 3)

odd one out on my list, but I had to include it. chihayafuru is my all-time favourite anime and it finally got a third season, which is somehow even better than the first two. mashima taichi is one of my favourite characters of all time and his storyline hits me on such a profound level. plus, in the years since i first say this show i’ve fallen in love with classical japanese literature (particularly heian poetry) so i had newfound appreciation for the karuta matches (aka i cried every time someone recited one of my favourite poems)

other favourites: together with me, he’s coming to me, sotus and sotus s, my dear loser: edge of 17, why r u, theory of love, wake up chanee!, gameboys, pearl next door, uta koi (anime), three kingdoms (2010), blood and water (netflix). (itsay would almost certainly be on my list if i’d had time to watch it. same with dark blue kiss, which i had to pause so i could do my assignments)

Final Thoughts

well, it’s been... a year (i don’t think anyone needs a reminder of the details) but writing this post has reminded me of all the amazing shows and people I discovered over the course of it.

thank you to everyone for being so lovely and creative and funny and quirky and kind and passionate. you’re all incredibly awesome people and i wish all of you the very best xx