#if you think there’s not enough material for her male Allies than make some shit up!!!

[dragon-queensguard]

Taking away so much of dany’s military and strategic planning and giving it to her male advisors was fucking nasty of GOT

[decieve-ineigle-obfuscate]

Hunter: Chapter 3

Summary: Strauss decides the BAU team needs a new field agent. An extra set of hands, an additional skillset, and a reduction of their stress. Hotch isn't pleased with the new addition to their team. Emily was hard enough to accept, but she was part of the family now. Things become even harder when Hotch realises it's someone he knows. Intimately.

Warnings: Language, innuendo.

1.2K Words

I watched across the table. She was emersed in the case file already, brows drawn in and mouth in a thin line. So different from how relaxed and open she was last night.

Sure, alcohol removes inhibitions, but she seemed to have a mask on.

"So we're looking at a serial rapist who keeps the kids for 2 weeks before killing them and dumping them? They're all found within an hour of being dumped. They're dumped in open areas with lots of witnesses. No one sees them, though. That's odd. Either they know how to keep a low profile or…"

"Or they know how to avoid attracting attention even if they are doing something that usually…" I trailed off, attempting to avoid repeating myself.

"Induces rubbernecking?"

I glanced up at Mika.

"In my old field, the people who were best at staying under the radar or avoiding attention were people who already had something to hide. I'm guessing they may either have a prior record that will make them an easy suspect were they to get involved, may already be a suspect, or may already have someone looking for them. Any of those things would make them extra cautious."

"That's basic profiling, fun-size," Morgan announced.

Her eyes hardened, and she glared at him beside me. "Does he call you names too?" she asked, looking to Reid across the aisle.

"Sometimes." He admitted.

"How about this? How about you find some way to feel secure other than putting down those you feel intellectually threatened by?" She snapped.

Reid smirked narrowly as she looked back down to the file.

Morgan scoffed and sputtered momentarily. "I feel intellectually threatened? You…"

"Enough," I said firmly. "Back to the case."

I won't be having them work together.

"Reid, anything?" I asked.

"I concur with Agent Leeds…"

"Mika."

"Mika's lead. I think he's got a record or something similar. He's probably in his late 30's, or early 40's. They've likely been in the system for a while, have a history of violence, or are on a registry. People who are attracted to children don't go unnoticed."

She nodded. "Exactly."

She immediately found someone similarly alienated and allied herself with Reid to make it harder to criticise her. 

"Likely a white male. Lower class."

Mika nodded.

I leaned back and sighed.

"We likely won't know much more until we can go over the paper material at the station. They have less than half their files accessible online by their own report."

"Guess Pretty Boy is gonna have some reading to do," Morgan said, leaning back.

Reid sighed. "Mika, what's your reading speed and comprehension?" 

"1,400 words at 95% comprehension. Not great, but," She shrugged.

"You'll do fine," Reid said, nodding slightly.

"How fast do you read?" She said, leaning over to face him.

He pursed his lips. "20,000 words per minute."

She blinked a few times. "Shit. And you think my measly 1,400 isn't gonna slow you down?"

Reid sighed slightly. "It isn't just about the speed. It's about your comprehension. You have 95% comprehension at 1,400 words. You could read faster and still maintain the majority of your comprehension rate. You'll keep up fine. Don't worry."

Mika smiled.

"Alright. Reid and Leeds will get a start on the paper trail, and the rest of us will go to the most recent scene."

Mika and Reid nodded.

Rossi stared at me from across the table.

His eyes read one thing. What aren't you telling me?

"Later." I mouthed.

He hesitantly nodded before looking over her shoulder. 

"Why is yours so small?"

"I have 20/20 vision. Do you?"

He gently flicked her upper arm, and I frowned.

"No, and you know that."

You know her.

"I keep telling you to get glasses, but no. You'll only wear them in photos to look smarter."

"Is she your kid?" Emily asked.

"Niece."

I felt the colour drain from my face abruptly.

"Likes poking fun at me like her mom did when we were young."

She smirked. "Hard job, someone's gotta do it."

I checked my watch. "We should be there in about 3 hours. Everyone, get some rest. Unless Garcia manages to forward us more documents, we've hit a wall."

Mike brushed her foot against my ankle as she stood, and I had to resist watching her go.

What happened last night cannot affect work. How ironic that you should lecture her on that when you're letting affect you.

I stood up, walked back into the coffee bar, and refilled my thermos.

"Is Dave gonna kill me with he finds out?" I asked lowly as she worked on a Redbull.

"Dunno. He's kind of like a brotherly uncle. Like he and I bicker like kids. He's pretty protective of me, though. I won't let him bite your head off, though." She said, rolling her neck.

"Mmm. He was around a lot when you were young?"

She nodded. "My dad dipped out when I was a kid, and Uncle Dave was just there most of the time. Mom never complained, especially when my dad abruptly promised to pay for college and then dropped off the earth again. Uncle Dave put me through college as long as I had good grades."

I nodded and sipped at my coffee. "How are you."

"Solidly un-hungover now."

I sighed lowly and looked into my coffee. "Not that."

I glanced at her smirk in the corner of my eye. 

"Good. Sore, but good. You?"

"Good."

"Eating your earlier words?" She teased, chucking the can in the trash.

"Go sit down," I said, softly.

"Aye, aye, Heffe." She teased, walking past me.

I nursed my coffee for quite a while before slipping into the bathroom. I glanced into the mirror, observing the dark circles under my eyes. I turned the faucet, splashed some water on my face, and pat dried my face. I turned the faucet off before stepping out.

And bumping into Dave.

"It's later."

"Later, later, Dave."

"Nope." He said. "How do you know my niece?"

I sighed and leaned against the door.

He slid the curtain closed. "Not getting out of this one. You're not even half-assing trying to hide how you feel. You're doing a shit job."

"We spent last night together." I whisper-blurted.

He stood, staring at me. "All this for one night?"

"She's the first person I've been with since Haley died."

Dave nodded. "Got it."

"I do like her, Dave."

Another nod. "I can tell." He said, humour in his voice.

Mika popped her head in. "If you two gossiping hens are done, the seatbelt light is on."

Dave ushered her to her seat and quickly sat as well before the jet jerked.

I slid the back of Derek's seat and Reid's seat. "Shit." I hissed under my breath.

Derek grabbed my arm and pulled me back past him. "Careful boss. No bumping around."

Dave chuckled as I sat and buckled in. "You good?"

I huffed and leaned my head back.

My phone buzzed, and I checked it.

-We can talk more later. - Mika

I breathed a sigh of relief.

-Looking forward to it. Get some rest. - Aaron.

She smiled and leaned her head against the rest before closing her eyes.

My chest ached with the same affection as last night. I saved her number on my phone and forced myself to close my eyes as well.

Previous / Next

[httphopewrld]

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a)

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and f*ck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slowburn fluff and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I've written, and there's more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, the reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU'RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS. Oh, and spoilers for the horror movie Hush. It's on Netflix if you haven't watched it yet. It is GOOD.

  Word Count: 16, 465 (wowie)

A/N: Thank you for waiting! It’s rushed, so expect some little mistakes here an there, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope y'all enjoy it! Also, Y/L/N means "your last name."

  Taglist: @kirbykook​ @kleritata​ @taestannie​ @jenotation​ @hemmos-obrien​ @zeharilisharaban​ @speed-of-wind​ @kawaisoraya​

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company's items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while managing the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley's helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. "Fantastic. Thank you. That'll be all for now. Check on West if he needs anything." You ordered. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show's theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada's landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different body shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, "Because you're here all the time!" You walked back to her. "Listen, you're the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense." Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. "Fuck," you cursed, resting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you—the measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. "The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won't look good if they don't fit the models." You shook your head. "Maybe it's just tougher to design clothes for different bodies. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that." Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

Both of you sat towards the back of the sushi restaurant, to Hoseok’s request. The waitress placed you two in a concealed booth, with drapes covering a small entrance.

You two had to take your shoes off before sitting down.

“Why did you say, ‘sushi it is?’” You asked, taking a sip of your water.

Hoseok opened his can of sprite, “What do you mean?”

“You asked where I thought you were taking me, I responded, and you said, ‘sushi it is!’” You reiterated.

He took a sip of his soda before responding, "It's a trick I learned from Instagram." He set his drink down. "You ask someone, 'where do you think I'm taking you for food?' dinner or whatever, and then take them to a place with that food. It's easier than asking 'what do you want to eat?' because people can't decide."

You nodded, making an ‘aaahhh’ sound. “Smart.”

You two caught up while eating your meals. Hoseok chatted about his bandmates and the tour, and you talked about your move to the new building.

Most of it was just adding more details about your lives because you two texted lots during the week and sometimes video chatted. You'd get to see Hoseok and his friends, and he'd get a view of your life on the other side of the world.

To others, it looked like both of you were dating. Both of your friends would tease, singing, "Y/N and Hoseok sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Many of his fans, ARMY, would theorize your friendship, pointing out the matching bracelets you two wore—which was later proved normal because Hoseok went live on Vlive making bracelets for his bandmates.

And you two would continually clarify that you two were strictly long-time friends. Nothing more.

Girls and boys can be friends. Simple as that.

You and Hoseok finished your meals. You two shared a few rolls and a bento box and were full.

“That was really good.” You commented, rubbing your stomach.

Hoseok chuckled, copying you, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You laughed, “Shut up! You’re so fit.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling up his sleeves and flexing his arms.

You both laughed as he flexed his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than your remembered. You were slightly jealous of his lean athletic figure.

And were gazing at it for too long.

“I don’t know about you,” Hoseok sighed, appearing to be tired from the food and flexing his muscles, “but I’m in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s.”

Your eyes lit up. “YES.”

“Cookie dough with chunks?” You both said in unison.

You two erupted in laughter.

"I'll go play," Hoseok said, getting up.

You stopped him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “my treat.”

Before you left the booth, you turned around and said thoughtfully, "But you're getting the ice cream."

Hoseok's expression conveyed the same seriousness as if a soldier on a mission.

He saluted you. “Copy that, Y/N.”

You saluted him back and left to pay.

The walk to Ben and Jerry’s was quick. Both of you were eager to share the tub of ice cream.

You ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie dough and a cherry Garcia pint, and two spoons to share. You both ate the ice creams with delight while walking back to your apartment building.

When arriving at your building, Hoseok handed you the cookie dough ice cream pint.

“What are you doing?” You asked while he gave you the closed pint.

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean? I’m dropping you off at your place.”

You gave a shocked expression. “Dropping me off? We’re not even done our pints!”

“But you have work tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up.” Hoseok stepped back towards the edge of the sidewalk. “I can catch a cab back to the hotel, don’t worry.”

You balanced the pints in one hand and used your other to grab his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, pulling away from the curb and closer to your building.

Hoseok pulled his arm out of your grip. "Y/N, you need to be well-rested—"

“At least help me finish the ice cream.” You interrupted, holding up the pints that were now in both your hands, along with your spoon.

“We haven’t seen each other six months, and it’s only…”

Hoseok pulled out his phone. “Nine.”

“Exactly!” You expressed. “It’s only nine. I don’t need to be in until nine-thirty tomorrow morning. As long as you’re out by eleven, that gives me an hour to get ready for bed at twelve, and I will wake up at eight. Plenty of rest!”

You watched his unsure expression.

"If you don't want to go home at eleven, that's fine by me. Could you leave earlier? Or you can go back to your hotel if you want. I won't take offence; you know me." You held up your arms in surrender, ice cream pints still in your hands. "But if you're leaving because you're worried that I won't get enough sleep, don't. I'm a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself, and I want you to come in.

Hoseok bit his lip, appearing to debate the offer.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll come in. However, I don't want to get a text from you complaining about being tired in the morning."

“I swear,” you promised, pretending to draw an ‘x’ over your heart, “I cross my heart.”

Hoseok chuckled, and you led the two of you into your apartment building and into the elevator. You pressed the twentieth button, and you two waited in comfortable silence.

The elevator doors opened, and you two walked to your apartment.

You opened the door to your studio apartment, locking the door behind you two and hanging up your bag along with your keys.

“Want anything to drink?” You asked, setting down the ice cream pint in your hand and taking off your coat.

Hoseok set down the cookie dough pint on the coffee table. “Anything is alright, thanks,”

You hummed, getting both of you bottles of black cherry soda and bringing over the cherry Garcia pint and your spoon.

"Jesus, do you need help?" Hoseok asked with worry, seeing you holding the bottles by their necks in one hand and the ice cream pint and spoon in the other.

You chuckled, “It’s alright, just sit down.”

You two sat on the couch, twisting off the caps on your sodas and taking a sip.

Hoseok sighed. “That’s really good,” he gestured to the pop before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah! They’re so addictive,” you replied, setting coasters under both of your drinks.

Both of you continued to reminisce about your childhood, especially middle school. The puberty years had been gruesome to you two, speckling your faces with acne.

You pulled out a photo album you kept on one of your bookshelves, which had pictures of your families and your younger selves—even photos when Hoseok was training, before debuting with BTS in 2013.

“Oh my god, look at you!” You gasped, showing him a picture.

In the photo, Hoseok arms were crossed over his chest, his attempt at having swagger. He wore a collared shirt, and his hair was short.

“Oh god, no,” Hoseok cringed, gently pushing the photo away.

You chuckled, "You were so adorable, always dancing and having a good time." You smiled. "You are such a hard worker, practicing so much. I remember you twisting your ankle but still practicing."

You looked at him tenderly. “I wish people could see that.”

Hoseok smiled back at you, softly touching your hand. You grasped his hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He was the first to pull away.

“You remember our sleepovers?” He asked.

You giggled, "Yeah when you could leave that cramped place you shared with the boys."

He swatted your arm, “That apartment was good! It was where everything started.” He pouted. “Anyways, we would always look up deep questions to ask each other—or would you rather.”

You rolled your eyes. “Those questions were overrated.”

“I thought they were nice!” Hoseok defended. “We got to know each other more, like, ‘what is your biggest fear?’ or ‘what is your biggest pet peeve?’”

He must've seen your unimpressed expression because he continued, "You got to admit that you learned a bit more about me because of those questions!"

You sighed. “I did, I guess.”

Hoseok held up his index finger, seeming to signal ‘wait a minute.’

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s try some now, then.”

“Hoseok—”

“Come on,” he interrupted. “If you don’t learn anything new about me from the first four questions we do, then we can stop, alright? I will never bring up these questions ever again.”

You debated his offer.

“Fine.” You agreed, setting down the photo album. “Shoot.”

“Okay, but we both pick two questions and answer all of them. For example, when we ask a question, the other person answers before the picker.” Hoseok said while he scrolled.

You hummed, understanding his instructions.  

“Want to do would you rather?”

“Sure.”

"Sexy edition?" Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

You scoffed. “Hobi, we're grown, adults. I can take a few sexual questions."

“Okay,” Hoseok replied, “but if you ever feel uncomfortable, we can choose another question or stop.”

You nodded, and Hoseok appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Alright,” he began, “would you rather bite someone’s ear during sex or bite someone’s lip during sex?”

This is pretty vanilla. You thought.

"Lip, for sure." You emphasized the 'sure' in your sentence, stringing along with the 'er' sound.

“Same,” Hoseok agreed while passing you his phone.

You took his cell and strolled through the website.

What do I choose? Do I just dive in, or go for the vanilla shit?

“Would you rather engage in foreplay or go right into the main course?” You asked.

Hoseok thought about it. “I would say foreplay. You can warm things up—and nothing is more fun than teasing.” He shimmied, making you two laugh.

You agreed, passing the phone to him.

“Oooo, here’s a classic,” he grinned, “top or bottom?”

“I think I’m a switch,” you replied.

He tilted his head.

“It’s like, you’re both, top and bottom. I like to take control sometimes, but I can also sub.” You explained. “You?”

“Top,” he replied, “for sure.”

You laughed, “You sound so against being a bottom.”

He laughed too. “I like pleasuring the person I’m having sex with. Nothing is more satisfying than making someone cum.”

“True,” you admitted.

You found your mind wandering to unholy memories of you and Hoseok. What was odd about your friendship that—to put it blatantly—you two had sex. Not just once, but a few times.

This is why asking these questions was pretty casual and not too surprising.

You two started engaging in sex a couple years ago. You were stressed about your company starting, and Hoseok was in town. He offered to help you relax, and before you knew it, he was drilling into you from behind.

Both of you agreed to stay friends but continued to have sex every now and then. It was great, you had to admit. Probably the best sex you had in your life, and it was good that you two were able to keep your friendship platonic at the same time. Only, it was sex without the romantic feelings.

To be honest, you were craving it again.

He passed you his phone again, and you tried to pick a good last question.

“Would you rather kiss me gently or kiss me aggressively?” You asked.

Hoseok paused before answering. “Depends on the mood.”

“Well, at this moment, then, what is the mood?”

You watched Hoseok’s eyes shift between your lips then your eyes.

“Aggressively.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” You passed him back his phone. “Last question.”

Hoseok chuckled, “You seriously didn’t learn anything new?”

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

He didn't seem bothered, though, when his body shifted closer to yours.

When he looked back up at you, his expression changed. Although his eyes were already an opaque shade of brown, they had darkened.

I know that look.

He smirked. “Would you rather make the first move or receive the first move?”

You bit your lip, gazing up at his body.

Before you could reconnect with his eyes, you heard his phone drop, and his lips were on yours.

Just like his answer, his kisses were aggressive and needy. You could taste the cherry cola and ice cream on his lips and mouth.

You pulled his face closer, wanting more.

Hoseok’s body language opened up, allowing you to get up and straddle his lap. You felt his hands inch up your shirt and tug at the fabric. He helped you take it off, which gave him access to your breasts.

You felt him undo your bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and you tossed it off without a care.

Hoseok let out a chuckle before claiming your lips with his.

His lips were intoxicating, and you wanted more.

“Please touch me,” you begged against his lips.

He hummed, grazing his hands down your back before roughly grabbing your ass. You moaned, and he held you against him, hard enough to feel him grind into you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you pulled away, and he laughed.

“Baby, I’m not teasing,” he smirked.

Baby. The term of endearment made your heart swoon.

You weren’t always this infatuated by Hoseok. But the way he came to visit you during his break, had dinner and ice cream with you, and kissed you this good—it made you want more than just a fling.

But you couldn't think that way. It was sex. You two were doing this to get off, not engage in lovemaking.

Hoseok swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, eyeing your figure. “You know what I want.”

You ran your hand up and down his chest. “What are you waiting for?”

Hoseok's hands came underneath your thighs, and he picked you up, walking you to your bedroom. He used your body to close the door, slamming you against it.

He ground himself against your core, causing you to moan louder than you expected.

You covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckled, “It’s okay,” he pulled away enough to graze his thumb over your cheek, “I love it when you moan.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him and grabbing his ass, causing him to grind on your core.

"Fuck, I can practically feel that you wet," he groaned, trying his best to hold you up and sturdy you against the door.

“B-bed,” you choked, one of his particular thrusts stroking perfectly against you.  

Hoseok moved you towards your bed and gingerly placed you down. He kissed down your bare chest and slowly took off your pants and underwear.

“Fuck, your perfect,” Hoseok awed, softly running a finger through your wet heat.

His cold finger sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you flinch.

Hoseok hummed. “So wet for me,”

He looked up at you. “May I?”

You nodded, but he only smirked.

“Words, baby,” he put a hand to his ear.

“Please,” you bit down on your lip.

You felt him spread your lips, and you clenched in response. He appeared to savour you, taking his time as he ate you out.

When you moaned, he’d hum, sending vibrations into your heat that brought you closer to your climax.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

He pulled away, licking his lips and gazing down at you.

“Hoseok—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he commented. “But I want you to cum around me.”

God, I love his dirty talk.

You watched him take off his clothes. He must've been working out because he was more toned than six months ago.

He was about to line himself up with your entrance, but you stopped him with your foot on his chest.

You smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

You stood up. “Sit.”

Hoseok sat on the bed, your roles shifting.

“But I want—”

You interrupted his beg with your hand around his erect cock. He appeared to be speechless as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Hm?” You asked, chuckling lightly at how easy it was to make him submit. “What do you want, baby?”

“I-I wanted,” he stuttered, thrusting slightly into your hand, “to cum inside you.”

“Is that so?” You questioned, pulling your hand away.

Despite his vocalized want, he whined when you pulled away.

“I’m only doing what my baby wants,” you shrugged. “Condoms are in the bottom drawer on the right.”

Hoseok dashed over to the bedside table, rummaging for the condoms.

“Those should fit you, right?”

"Yes," he replied, opening the familiar wrapper and unravelling it on his erect member.  

He stood there for a minute, wrapped penis and naked, just fondly looking at your nude figure.

He whispered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok blushed. “You still want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Top please,” you smiled.

Hoseok laid down on your bed, and you climbed onto his torso.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he cursed as you moved off his abs and onto his cock.

A wet puddle was left on his abdomen, which he wiped away with his fingers, then putting said fingers into his mouth.

“So good,” he groaned.

You hummed in response, slowly sinking onto him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said when you bottomed out.

You started moving, swaying your hips back and forth. Each time Hoseok's cock would graze against your g-spot.

His hands were placed on your hips, guiding you on him. You could feel yourself clenching around him and your climax building up.

“I-I’m close,” you stuttered.

Hoseok swallowed, “Me too.”

“Ch-choke me,” you requested as you picked up your pace.

Hoseok grinned. “Only if you choke me back.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Hoseok gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and you did the same, slowly applying pressure.

You felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. "F-fuck me," you cursed, slowing down.

Both of you let go of each other's neck, and Hoseok flipped you two over, still inside you.

"It's okay," Hoseok assures before resuming the pace.

His thrusts were rough and deep, and he pushed your thighs against your chest.

“Fuck, please keep going,” you begged.

“Can I choke you?” Hoseok asked.

“Please,” you replied, “do you want me to choke you too?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responded.

You felt yourself rhythmically clench around him. Hoseok must’ve realized because he began thrusting faster into you.

The room was filled with unholy noises. You could hear the wet sounds of your entrance and the impact of Hoseok’s hips against your core.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you choked out.

The knot building up in your abdomen unravelled, and pleasure and relaxation spread through your body. Your core gripped onto Hoseok like a vice.

“H-Hoseok,” you stammered, your core overstimulated.

“I-I want you to squirt,” he replied, continuing his firm thrusts.

“Oh,” you moaned.

He pounded deeper into your core, to the point where you could feel his tip ram against your cervix.

“Ah!” You screamed, feeling yourself gush around him.

“Fuck, so good,” Hoseok groaned. “I-I’m cumming.”

You felt the condom fill up inside you, and you felt disappointed that his cum couldn’t coat your walls.

His thrusts slowed down, and he stood still for a few moments.

When he pulled out, you shivered with oversensitivity. You knew that your sheets would be a mess and weren't looking forward to cleaning them when Hoseok left.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathless, while you heard Hoseok walk away from the bed.

“Where do you put your towels?” He asked.

“In the hallway, in the closet beside the dryer and washing machine.” You replied.

You heard him walk into the hallway and the closet door open and close. “Thanks,” he said. “And your bedsheets?”

“The closet in my room.”

You heard him walk back into your room, open your walk-in closet that led into your bathroom, and shuffle around. The tap ran in your bathroom for a couple seconds, then the sound of Hoseok wringing out something.

You began to sit up, but he hushed you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he soothed, placing the clean bedsheets on your bedside table and walking over to you with a damp cloth.

“You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay,” he reassured.

You two exchanged a quick smile before Hoseok began to clean you up.

“You didn’t even cum on me,” you chuckled as he gently wiped your inner thighs.

“I know,” he replied, “but I still made you messy.”

When your thighs were no longer covered in your cum, you two changed your bedsheets.

“You good sleep in the same bed?” You asked while folding over your duvet.

“Sure,” He smiled.

You walked into your closet. "There should be some clothes that fit you. I usually wear men's clothes at home, anyways. It's crazy how great the quality men's clothes are compared to women's clothes." You picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants and tossed them at Hoseok.

He caught them, “Thanks.”

You two showered separately and spent the time getting ready together dancing to tunes.

If someone were to walk into the room, it wouldn’t look or smell like you two just had sex. You two looked like close friends having a dance party before going to bed.

Again, after you two had sex the first time, you both agreed to stay friends. It was easier said than done.

It was awkward initially, but you both were able to get past that by talking it through. Hoseok would ask how you felt during sex and what could have been better, and you would return the question.

Now, you both were able to have a good time and intimately learn more about each other.

Sure, it was strange, but it was a mutual agreement between consenting adults and fun.

The sex was fun—great, really—and you couldn’t have it any other way.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel like something was missing.

.

.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted your fellow designers, “this is Hoseok. If you don’t know him already, he’s a well-known musician and one of my closest friends.”

Everyone welcomed Hoseok with a warm round of applause.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” Hoseok thanked.

“Hoseok will be helping out here and there while he’s vacationing here for a month,” you explained, “so take it easy on him.”

People shared chuckles at your joke.

"Anyways, let's start looking over the design ideas. You all are very talented artists, and I want you to remember that this is a draft, which means that these ideas are not final. If your idea is rejected, it's okay. We'll continue to work on a collective theme for the show."

The morning was spent listening to everyone's design concepts. To follow your reputation, the designs were contained within suits and gowns. As mentioned before, the theme was Vancouver's nature, where the fashion show would be taking place.

You and your design team used the recycled fabrics—which were separated by colours, textures, and materials—while figuring out your drafts.

You asked your design team to draft some ideas because you couldn't think of anything to present.

You were pleasantly surprised that your whole team had ideas that you approved.

“This a phenomenal,” you awed, “Great job, Erinn.”

“Actually,” you grabbed the attention of the other team members, “you all did a great job. We will be using all these ideas for the show.”

Your team shared cheers.

“Y/N,” Rachel nudged your shoulder, “I’m sorry to ask, but now that we’ve got the designs all in order, what about the models? You wanted to have various body types, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” you whispered back.

You turned back to your design team. "You all know that this show is tougher than our last one because we are trying to include more body types, genders, races, just different kinds of people. Which means that we will need to cater our clothes to the models, rather than the other way around.” You smiled, “So you all can go home for the next week.”

You heard Rachel choke on her inhale.

"Although you all have the week off, I want you all to try drawing your designs on other body types. Experiment with materials and colours. Remember to take some of the recycled fabrics home with you, and feel free to come in to pick anything up. Just let Rachel and I know in advance, and we'll give notice to the front desk so they can let you in. When we reconvene in a week, which would be next Friday at nine-thirty, I need you all to be ready to translate your designs, colours, and materials to our models." You ordered.

“Any questions?”

Comfortable silence amongst everyone.

You nodded. "Awesome. Good luck, everyone. Contact me if you have any questions."

Your team started packing up.

“Y/N, does that mean we’re spending the next week casting?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, Rachel. Please contact Westly and schedule lunch tomorrow at noon to discuss modelling criteria. It’s probably going to be pretty loose, but we need to contact Westly before sending it out.” You answered. “If he’s not free at that time, try figuring out something later tomorrow. Then book a reservation for three at Romeo’s.”

“Alright, on it,” Rachel replied.

You turned to Hoseok, who seemed shocked.

“What?” You blushed.

He continued his surprised expression. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

You chuckled. “How else are you supposed to run a company and organize and execute a fashion show in 3 months?”

Rachel tapped you on the shoulder. "Westly can do lunch tomorrow, at noon, at Romeo's. He and his team secured the venue with Vancouver Fashion Week and are currently collaborating with the interior designers to figure out how the place will look. West said he'll debrief you tomorrow, at lunch, about the rest of the progress."

You smiled. “Great! Thank you, Rachel. You can also take the rest of the day off.”

Rachel appeared to be stunned, not responding to your words.

You waved a hand in front of her face. “Rachel? You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” She asked.

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t be telling you to if I wasn’t sure, would I?”

She gave it a thought. “I guess not.”

You grinned. “Just meet me at our main building tomorrow, at eleven-thirty, and we’ll go to Romeo’s together.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you, Y/N,”

“No worries,” you smiled.

You and Hoseok watched her leave, leaving you two alone in the studio.

“I’m sorry, it passed my mind. You’re okay not joining us for lunch tomorrow, right?” You asked Hoseok.

He dismissed your apology by brushing a hand through the air, “It’s all good. You’ve got your shit to do.” He smiled, “It gives me time to tour around a bit, anyways.”

“Good,” you replied. “So, where to?”

You pulled apart the croissant, eating pieces one at a time. The butteriness covered your tongue in a warmth that mixed well with the iced coffee you and Hoseok shared.

The park was surprisingly empty, despite it being a Friday. Usually, it would be tough to find a spot decently away from others, mostly shaded by trees.

The inlet was a few meters away, allowing you two to see sailboats pass by. People also kayaked and canoed, and you could hear their laughter faintly on land.

Here, you and Hoseok would be shielded by looming trees and away from potential fans of Hoseok. It was a rarity to have those two things when spending time with Hoseok: privacy and security—peace and quiet.

“This is what you wanted to do?” You asked, finishing off the croissant.

He nodded, sipping the iced coffee. “Yeah. It’s quiet and nice here.”

You two people watched, enjoying the breeze and serene environment.

“I was thinking,” you cleared your throat, “about last night. Did you enjoy it?”

Hoseok set down the iced coffee. “Yeah. I always like hanging out with you.”

“I mean—the sex.”

He seemed shocked by your question.

“Yeah, that was good too. Why do you ask? You never brought up before.” He pointed out.

Because I am growing feelings for my childhood friend, who I now have sex with for fun. This wasn't a part of the agreement, I know. We agreed to not grow feelings for each other and just have sex for pleasure. But it's inevitable to develop feelings for someone you have sex for, right? Like, there are probably people out there that can distinguish sex from love—and I guess it started out like that—but for us?

Am I crazy?

“No reason,” you sighed. “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could have done better.”

Hoseok turned his body to you, smiling. “It was perfect.”

He gestured with his arms for a hug, and you obliged. His cologne smelt of freshly peeled oranges; it was a pleasant fragrance, and you found yourself snuggling closer.

.

.

The past month went by in a busy blur.

The model casting went well. You and Westley found fantastic individuals to present your clothing line, which was in the process of being altered to fit those people.

The venue was secured, and the guest list was being made by You and Westley.

“Maybe invite Hoseok,” Westley suggested.  

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

"Why not?" He retorted. "The worse thing he could say is 'no,' and you can invite the whole band." He giggled. "Maybe I can meet Jimin in person."

You chuckled, “So that’s why you want me to invite Hoseok. Just because you made eye contact with Jimin for more than five seconds, it doesn’t mean that he’s into you. He’s straight.”

“How do you know?” Westley had a hand firmly on his hip.

“W-well, I haven’t asked him personally—”

"Then you can't assume he's straight!" Westley exclaimed. "The baseline isn't being heterosexual."

“True. Anyways, let’s get back to the guest list.” You chewed on your lip. “We have Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, Lizzo…”

Both of you ran down the list of a thousand attendees to the show in Vancouver. It was way smaller than fashion week or any of your previous shows, but it wasn't meant to be a big party.

Y/N [14:00]: Hey! Are you free and the boys on March 1st at 1 pm for about four hours, including an after-party until 10 pm, with food?

Hoseok [14:30]: Hiiiiii!! Sorry for the late text. I was asking the others. Yeah! That’s in 4 months? 🧐

Y/N [14:31]: Yeah, it’s for my fashion show. You can ask your company for that time? We’d provide the plane tickets and accommodation. You’d probably stay 3 days and 2 nights? You’d fly in the first day, sleep the one night, then attend the show the second day, sleep the second night, and fly out the 3rd day. I’ll need to know by the end of the week.

Hoseok [14:32]: Sounds good!!! I’ll ask my managers and let you know 👊

Y/N [14:33]: Awesome! Thanks 💚

Hoseok [14:33]: Np 💚

“So, Hoseok and the boys can come, but he has to confirm with his managers. He’ll let me know soon.” You relayed to Westley.

"Great! As long as we get confirmation from Hoseok at the end of this week, we can send out the invitations. We've checked with everyone's management, and they all seem to be busy. Worse comes to worst; we'll just have to move seats around." Westley advised.

He closed his laptop, and you followed.

“Alright, that seems to be all of the guest list business. I’ll get my team to start organizing plane tickets and accommodation.” He sighed, “shall we head to the studio to check on the design team?”

“Yes,” you replied.

Both of you were driven to the studio to check on the design team.

The studio was filled with models of various shades and shapes. Music played quietly in the background, and your coworkers and models grooved to the tunes. Designers pinned fabrics around people’s figures and sketched down measurements and ideas.

You and Westley went around checking on everyone, making sure gowns and suits were well in progress. A smaller group of people created ideas for shoes and were sending them out to shoemakers.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know the models, fixing measurements, finalizing some ideas, and briefing everyone about the plan for the next two months.

"Please have the gowns, suits, and shoes by the end of this month so we can start having the makeup artists consult all of you; to make sure the makeup correlates with the clothes and the models." You informed. "Thank you, everyone, for your amazing work."

Scattered “thank you”s responded, and our workday was over.

“You want to get some drinks?” Westley nudged.

You nodded, frankly too tired to answer but eager for a drink.

Both of you decided to walk to the high-class bar, which allowed private areas in the back for paying customers. You and Westley sat alone, away from the crowds of people near the entrance of the bar.

“To having a productive three months,” Westley sang, holding up his martini.

You sighed, “Cheers,” you tapped your peach Bellini glass against his, admitting a chime.

"Fuck," Westley cursed at the sip of his drink, "they're always stronger than I remember. "Anyways, the show is pretty much underway. Guestlist is handled, the venue is prepped and ready for us, the clothing is almost done. Oooo, I can’t wait to see it all together.”

You nodded.

“You don’t seem so excited, Y/N.”

“I am,” you replied.

“But?”

“I am excited.” You affirmed, although not living up to the word

Westley silenced, knowing when not to push your buttons.

He took a careful sip of his martini. “Where’s Hoseok?”

You fidgeted with your glass. "Hoseok went back to Korea. He only had a month of vacay, so," you left the sentence adrift.

“Did you enjoy his company?”

“Can we not talk about him right now? I rather not mix work and personal life.” You stated.

Westley acknowledged with a firm nod, finishing off his martini and asking for another.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure.” You replied.

He cringed. “But if I ask, promise me you won’t fire me.”

You turned to him. “Depends on your question. You have to ask me first, then I can decide whether or not to fire you. I cannot make promises.”

“Why are you so off all of a sudden?” He genuinely asked.

You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fire you, not for a long time. You’re my best worker, and I can’t let you go.”

"I feel like there's going to be a 'but' somewhere. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid." Westley sighed.

You nodded, “You’re right. And you’re right about my mood. I’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Because of Hoseok?”

"Yeah, to be honest." You admitted. "I feel like we're really close—more than just friends. We're on the same wavelength, you know? And whenever we're apart for a long time and then meet up again, it's like time has passed."

“And let me guess, you haven’t told him because you’re afraid to ruin your friendship.”

You scoffed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, West.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m just saying, it’s the oldest narrative in the book. One friend is falling for the other, and that one friend doesn’t want to confess their feelings because they’ve known the other person for years and are afraid of ruining that connection.” He took a sip of his martini. “But in the end, it’s two friends just pining over their feelings of love for each other.”

“But we’re different.” You argued.

"I guess so. The narrative doesn't really specify one friend is a famous fashion designer and the other being a famous musician—"

“I mean,” you interrupted, “we have sex every time we see each other.

Westley's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His hand was placed on his chest, and his eyes stared into yours.

He tipped back his martini into his mouth, finishing it off. “Well, you didn’t mention the friends with benefits part.”

“I know!” You groaned. “That’s why it’s so complicated.”

"Is it really, though? Wouldn't confessing your feelings after you two have had sex so much make it slightly easier? Because it makes sense to grow feelings for someone you've known for a while and have had sex with on multiple occasions." Westley speculated.

“I didn’t say we had sex on multiple occasions—”

“Honey,” he began, “you said you’ve had sex with him every time you see each other, and you two meet a lot. It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

"Anyways," he digressed, "the sooner you tell him, the better. There's no use debating over it for years, then finding out he's found someone else when he would've picked you anyways."

"Gosh, when you say it like that, it sounds like a romantic movie." You cringed, finishing your peach Bellini.

He shrugged. “Well, it kinda is.”

You chuckled. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you for filling me in,” he smiled.

.

.

The week went by fast. Your design team was still working on alterations, so you were left brainstorming hair and makeup and contacting specialists in those fields.

You were sitting at home, knee-deep in Pinterest boards when your phone buzzed.

You stopped strolling through your laptop and peered down.

Hoseok [19:30]: We can come to your show!

Y/N [19:30]: Fantastic! I'll let my team know, and we’ll send out the invites.

You texted Westley, informing him that BTS could attend the show.

Westley [19:33]: Great! I'll let the rest of the team know, and we'll send the emails out tomorrow

Y/N [19:34]: Thanks!

Westley [19:35]: Np

You set down your phone and continued to add ideas to your private Pinterest board.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hoseok [19:55]: What are you doing right now?

You were puzzled.

Y/N [19:56]: Nothing much, just brainstorming ideas for the show. You?

Hoseok [19:57]: Just chilling in my room.

Hoseok [20:05]: I miss you

You chuckled at the text, thinking that Hoseok was drunk.

Y/N [20:05]: I miss you too, Hobi.

Hoseok [20:08]: …how much?

Again, you were puzzled by his text.

Y/N [20:10]: Wdym? I miss having you here? Is that what you mean?

Hoseok [20:11]: I mean, do you miss me intimately?

Y/N [20:14]: Like sex-wise?

Hoseok [20:14]: Fuck, I need you, Y/N.

You stared at his words.

Hoseok [20:18]: I miss your body and how perfectly you fit around me.

Your cheeks flushed.

Hoseok [20:21]: Can you video chat? Unless you’re not in the mood.

You panicked.

You were in the mood but weren't presentable. Your hair was messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup, and you were dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N [20:23]: Yeah, I’m in the mood. Just give me 5 mins.

You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your bedroom. You sifted through your closet and found the sexist clothing item you had: a red lingerie set. You quickly undressed and put on the set.

You looked into your full-length mirror and tried not to cringe. Your hair was a mess, and you weren’t wearing any makeup. It definitely looked like Hoseok's text came out of nowhere—and it did, but you somehow expected yourself to be decently presentable.

However, the lingerie set was doing you favours. The set was composed of a crotchless thong and a bralette that exposed your nipples.

Y/N [20:28]: I’m ready.

Your phone rang, and you answered, quickly propping it on your drawers across from your bed.

You were faced with a shirtless Hoseok, his cock already in his hand.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” He complimented breathlessly.

“Wow, you’re ahead of the game—and really? I’m a mess.” You chuckled.

He hissed, flinching in his grip. “Fuck, just take the compliment, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You sat a pit forward, angling your breasts towards the camera.

“What are you imagining, baby?” You purred.

“Y-You,” he stuttered, moving his hand up and down his cock.

“Mhm,” you moaned, “thinking up my pussy clenching around your cock, making it all wet.”

He nodded.

"You can do something if you want," he suggested. "You said you were in the mood."

Your eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute.”

You brought the phone with you on your journey, going back to your closet and fetching your dildo, lube, and vibrator. You hurried to the bathroom and propped your phone up against the closed door.

You suctioned the bottom of the dildo onto the titled floor. You placed the vibrator on the bathroom counter.

“You want to watch me bounce on this dildo and think of you?” You smirked, rubbing lube onto your hands, onto the toy, and onto your vagina.  

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, stilling his hand around his cock for a moment.

“Did I say you could stop?” You spat.

“I’m waiting for you,” he smiled, making your heart melt.

You paused over the dildo, smiling back at him. “Awww, that’s actually kinda sweet. Thank you.”

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the vibrator.  

You crouched down and slowly onto the dildo.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head back at the feeling of being filled up. It didn’t hit the spots Hoseok did, but it was good enough.

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down again, rhythmically repeating the motion.

“Fuck, so good,” you sighed, overlooking the pain in your knees.

“That's right, baby, imagine me filling that pussy up," Hoseok groaned, following your rhythm while pumping his cock.

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “and I’m clenching around you so tight.”

You two exchanged moans at the sound of your pussy squelching around the dildo.

“Use the vibrator, baby,” Hoseok purred.

You hummed, grabbing the rose gold vibrator and turning it on. You place the buzzing toy on your clit, feeling pleasure rippling through your core.

“Fuck,” you hissed, speeding up your pace a bit.

“I-I’m getting close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Hoseok smirked. “You get off at me rubbing my cock? Imagining me buried inside your pussy, making you feel so good?"

You nodded. “But it’s not as you, baby.”

“I know—” He choked, appearing to be on the brink of his climax. “I fucking miss the way your pussy fit so well around me, no matter how many times I fucked you open.”

“Mhm,” you bit your lips, watching him with hooded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Who knew you were filthy enough to cum during cybersex?" He observed. "I'm not even there to touch you, but just thinking of me inside has you in ruins.”

“What would you do if I was with you right now?” You asked.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk the next day,” he replied, “I’d fuck you until that pretty pussy is swollen.”

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum," you stuttered, feeling the familiar build-up in your core.

“M-me too,” he stammered.

You watched his head tilt back in pleasure and his cum squirt up from his cock.

“Fuck!” You cursed, feeling your pleasure shoot out of your core and onto the floor

“So hot,” Hoseok sighed.

You chuckled, coming down from high. You pulled yourself up and off the dildo, sitting on the cool tile floor.

“Fuck, did you squirt?” He asked, looking closer.

You nodded, gesturing to the mess on the ground.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he commanded and obliged, showing him your battered cunt.

You spread your lips, and he hummed at sight.

“So beautiful.” He awed.

“You happy? I need to wipe this all up, now,” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “It’s not my fault that you cummed.” He angled his phone to the floor, showing splashes of his cum on the floor, "and besides, you also made me make a mess.”

You both chatted while cleaning up your messes, talking about your days as if nothing happened. After finishing your clean-up, you two continued your conversation while showering, as if both of you were doing it together.

Ready to relax for the night, both of you signed off with exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘good night.’

You turned off your phone with a soft click and stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Your pyjamas were soft on your skin, and you felt ready to go to bed.

Hopping onto your bed, you grabbed your laptop and turned on some Netflix to fall asleep to.

From an outsider’s perspective, masturbating with your best friend and then casually talking with them while showering and getting ready for bed was odd. Repeating the scenario in your mind did make it sound like you two were in a long-distance romantic relationship rather than a platonic one.

But you and Hoseok were different. That was your excuse.

A friend could do this and not catch feelings. You two were the perfect example of that.

Emphasis on were because you were currently spiralling in your growing romantic feelings for Hoseok.

But what would you do in this situation?

You and your childhood friend engage in sex one time and promise each other to not grow feelings. In this manner, you two could have sex without attachment. Fast forward into the future, and you both are still making this arrangement with no negative consequences and feel like you two have gotten to know each other better and have become better friends—until you catch feelings. And you don’t want to risk losing this relationship you two have.

Because he is a worldwide musician who can’t be tied down because it could risk his career, and he might lose fans—and you couldn't be bothered with any romantic commitment with your fast-paced and unpredictable work schedule.

So, you stay in this unnameable mess.

.

.

“Time flies by when you’re having fun,” Allie commented from the plush couch.

You looked in the mirror, twisting your back towards it to see the back of the dress. “I guess so.”

“You have to admit, planning a fashion show is pretty fun,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.”

“True,” you replied, turning to the stylist.

“May I see the other dress?” You asked, and the stylist nodded, retreating to somewhere in the shop you couldn’t see.

It was the last month until the show. Everything was in order: the show’s venue and its decorations, the clothes, makeup and hair for the models, and the guests’ accommodation. Now, it was your turn to find suitable attire for the occasion.

You tried on the next dress. It was a slim-fitting number, with a leg slit in the front. It was scandalous and stunning, but not right for the show.

“I don’t like any of these dresses,” you sighed, annoyed.

Allie appears to brainstorm some ideas.

“Maybe try a suit?” She proposed.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, twirling your figure and watching the fabric move at your feet.

“Think about it,” she began, “think of all the powerful women who’ve worn suits and killed it. Zendaya, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively, Awkwafina. The list goes on. It’s a statement piece, and you’re the big brain behind this operation.”

“I think it’s ‘mastermind behind this operation,’ but I get what you mean.” You corrected.

“You literally bypassed my whole point—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted. “It’s just—suits for women are so overpriced. And it’s just like the dresses, except a different fit. Same colour palettes, same materials, so on.”

Allie scoffed. "You're a fucking fashion designer, did you forget? Make your own thing. There are leftover fabrics at your studio; you have time to make something." Her face lit up, “And, technically, it’s for free.”

You gave it a thought, but the stylist came back before you could finish it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Vega, but I’m not finding anything, and I don’t want you walking back and forth and bringing me more dresses.” You gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”

"No worries, Y/N! Just hang up the dress when you take it off, and I’ll deal with the rest,” she replied.

“Will do,” you said, and she stepped out of the room.

Allie helped you unzip the gown, and you shimmed out of it. You did as you were told and hung up the dress, and you and Allie left the shop.

The walk back to the studio was quick, you two making determined strides through the crowded city.

You and Allie entered the empty studio, turning on the nights.

The studio was organized chaos with dressed mannequins, big boxes of fabrics in the back of the room, and papered patterns on the tables.

“Wow,” Allie awed.

"Yeah," you replied, leading you both to your master station is near the back, "it's crazy what a couple months before a show looks like.”

You looked through the drawers beside your desks and grabbed the tools you'll need to plan out the suit.

“So, just a suit jacket and pants…” You said, grabbing some paper to sketch up your pattern.

You looked up at Allie, “Do you mind helping me out with measurements?”

She nodded, “For sure. What do you need?”

You guided Allie on how to measure your proportions for the suit. She measured your inseams for your pants, the sleeves, the cuts, and so on. In between, you'd write down the dimensions for the patterns.

You two sifted through the fabrics to create a monochrome patchwork outfit. The suit would be shades of cherry red, with different materials making it up. There were no patterns in the patchwork, only various tones of red in several types of wool.

“Fucking hell,” Allie cursed while sifting through the materials, “who would’ve thought there were so many shades of red.”

She held up a piece of recycled fabrics, checking with you that it was the correct tone. You took it and held the portion against the others.

“Nope, too dark,” you shook your head.

"What? It looks exactly the same," she disagreed, walking over to your table. When comparing the fabrics, she made an 'aaah’ sound, letting you know that you were right.

Before sectioning off your pattern, you tried your best to evenly sew all the material together into a quilt-like form.

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking out your sore hands.

“We don’t have to get this all done today, you know. You do have two months left.” Allie advised.

"I know. I just want to put this all together first," you replied, continuing to push the material through the sewing machine.

“Alright,” she surrendered, bringing one of the seats over to your table.

You sewed in silence for a bit.

“So,” Allie began, “how are you and Hoseok doing?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“You know…you two and your arrangement.”

You scoffed, “Our arrangement? You mean us having sex?”

“Yeah, but the other stuff.”

You pulled your hands from the sewing machine, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just spit it out, Al."

“Well, you’ve had mixed feelings with Hoseok, right? Like you’re starting to like him?” She speculated.

Your mouth gaped open. “Have you been talking to West?”

She didn’t respond, not making eye contact.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You two are ganging up on me!” You yelled.

“Y/N, we’re just worried.”

“About what? I have feelings—and?” You fumed.

She sighed. “You shouldn’t be having sex with someone if you’re growing romantic feelings, especially if you two agreed to be platonic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you stood.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed. "Don't you dare talk to me that way? I am your friend, not your enemy." Allie stood up and sighed. “I get it. You don’t like people in your business. That’s fair. I just feel like you're sacrificing yourself for Hoseok when you could talk about it with him."

“Allie, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” You spat.

“I get it,” she sympathized. “I don’t. I’m not you or Hoseok.”

“So, tell me,” she said. “Educate me on the situation. I am not here to judge. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she forgave, “just don’t push me away so fast, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat down, “So?”

You sat down and rehashed your feelings about you and Hoseok to her: the growing romantic feelings for him, not knowing what to do, and wanting something more.

“Well, do you think it’d work out between you two if you dated?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat. "I honestly don't know. It's tough with Hoseok's work because he has a loyal fanbase. I'm afraid he's going to get even more hate if we were to date.”

“But would you two be happy?” She asked.

You gave it a thought. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you go into a relationship regardless of other people. Whether you’re a celebrity or an ordinary person, you date someone for you and that person; no one else. There are going to be people who support and hate your relationship no matter what. What matters is what the two people think in the relationship."

She sighed. “You cannot control what others will think about you. No matter what you do or who you do, you're going to upset someone. So, just do what feels comfortable and safe with you."

You hummed, understanding.

“So, would you be happy if you and Hoseok dated?”

“Yes.” You stated without a thought. “I really like him—love him even.”

"Then that's all that matters," Allie replied.

.

.

The week before, the show crept on you faster than you expected. You, your team of designers and event organizers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists flew into Vancouver a week early to prepare on location.

However, the majority of the week would be spent preparing for the show. The first day was spent unloading all of the outfits and equipment for the show into the venue. Everyone was required to show up to organize their stations and to familiarize themselves with the venue.

“Please set up your stations while Westley and I look into the main runway and after part section. We’ll be back in around two hours to check up on everyone. If you have any questions while we're gone, please contact me on my phone." You held up your cellphone and everyone nodded. "Great. Good luck, everyone!"

The venue and interior designers' owners toured you and Westley around the place, showing you the drawn floorplans, running down the prices, and checking that the decorations correlated with your plans.

“These weren’t the chairs we sent over,” Westley pointed to the black folded chairs lining the runways.

“Yes, but these were within the price range and—” One of the interior designers, Queeny, said.

“But did we get an email regarding this change?” You interjected.

Queeny exchanged looks with the other three decorators, and they shook their heads.

Wesley let out an angry sigh. "Well, I guess we’ll have to live with these then.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “At least they’re comfortable. They look cheap, but they’re sturdy.”

“Are there any more changes you made without informing as?” You asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Great." You turned to one of the two-venue owners, named Ruby. "Shall we continue to the after-party part?”

“Yes,” she replied, gesturing to the doorway that led to the front reception area.

From the reception area, where guests would check-in and get a wristband, a double-door way on the right led to a ballroom for the after-party.

The overall theme of the place was classic European designs with off-white luxurious walls and chandeliers. The ceilings were intricately carved, and the floors were a smooth white oak. Just walking around made you feel like you were dirtying the place.

“This place is stunning,” Westley whispered.

“I know,” you replied, “you chose the place.”

“I know,” he smiled, pretending to flip his hair.

You both chuckled, continuing to follow the owners around the venue.

Everything worked out, besides the chairs, so you and Westley checked on the designers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists.

At the end of the workday, everyone was in order and ready for the next three days of dress rehearsals and solving and problems.

You arrived back at your hotel with sore feet and exhaustion.

Your phone rang as you flopped onto your bed.

You answered. “Hobi!”

“Y/N! How was your flight to Vancouver?” He asked.

“It was good. We didn't have a rest day, though. We had to settle into the place and check it over. My feet are so sore.” You groaned.

“Really? I thought you’d at least have a rest day when you guys arrived,” he assumed.

You shook your head. “No. Sadly, this whole week will be walking around and making sure everything is going smoothly.”

He sighed. “Shit. That sucks.” You heard him shift on the other side of the phone. “Do you want to relax?”

You laughed. “Jung Hoseok, did you seriously booty call me from across the world?”

Hoseok gasped, "I did not! I was talking about watching Netflix or something." He chuckled, "You're so dirty-minded."

You both laughed.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” He asked on the other end of the call.

You brought out your laptop and scrolled through the movie selection.

“Oooo! Let’s watch Hush. I’ve heard so many good things about it.” You recalled.

You could hear his hesitation.

Hoseok did not like being scared. Whenever you watched anything scary, you were afraid that your neighbours would complain at how loud his screaming was. As you remembered saying "hello" to him once and him screaming in fear and surprise, he was also easily frightened.

“We don’t have to,” you said.

“No, no,” Hoseok reassured, “we’ll watch it. Just send me the Netflix Party link, and I'll ready the Zoom link."

You giggled. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Hobi. I know you don’t like scary movies.”

“You want to watch it, so let’s do it,” he said, “and the ratings are good.”

“Okay,” you digressed. “I’m texting you the link right now.”

“Same,” he replied.

You two hung up and joined the links.

“Hello!” Hoseok beamed, dancing.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his burst of energy. “Hello, Hobi.”

You carried your laptop to the bathroom and began getting ready for bed.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Hoseok described him and his bandmates' film day for "Run! BTS," and you groaned at all the work they had to do.

He laughed. “But we got to play games, which was fun. We laughed so much that my abs hurt.” You watched him lift up his shirt and show his toned abdomen.

Your core felt a familiar flutter.

“W-wow, that must be a lot of laughing,” you cleared your throat and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

For the moment, the time difference worked for you two because it was almost ten at night for you and nearly three in the afternoon for him.

“Should I turn off my camera?” You asked before undressing to get into the shower.

He shook his head. “I’m okay with you leaving it on. I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not really different. But if you’re uncomfortable, you can just turn it off.”

You shrugged and began taking off your clothes in full view of the camera and screen.

You noticed Hoseok’s expression.

“Enjoying the show?” You chuckled, finally taking off your undergarments and fully exposing yourself.

Hoseok smirked, “Don’t act like you weren’t just turned on by my abs. I saw how you looked at me.”

You nodded and surrendered. “Fair point.”

You hoped in the shower, and you two continued talking.

“Jesus, we haven’t started the movie yet,” Hoseok commented while you were washing your hair.

“Shit, right,” you laughed, massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

After you hoped out of the shower and dried your body and hair, you both started to watch the movie.

“This is a pretty cool premise. Like, we’ve never seen a deaf person in a horror movie before,” you regarded.

"True, that's a good point—AHHHHHH!" Hoseok screamed at the sudden slam in the movie.

You burst into laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, trying to calm himself with controlled breaths.

The movie continued as you finished off your skincare and put on your pyjamas.

The oversized t-shirt was long enough to cover your thighs.

“You’re going to watch this before bed?” Hoseok gasped.

You chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not that scary.” You say as you jump at the sound of breaking glass in the film.

Hoseok laughed at the coincidental timing.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of your alarm.

“Shit,” you grumbled and turned it off.

You heard Hoseok stir awake on the Zoom call.

Both of you had fallen asleep, but Hoseok finished the movie before you could; because you saw the end credits paused in the Netflix Party.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok mumbled, squinting at the screen.

“I’ll let you sleep,” you smiled, hovering your cursor over the "send" button.

He softly smiled, “thank you.” He snuggled into his pillow, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” you replied, ending the call for both of you.

It didn’t hit you until you were halfway through your dress rehearsal, but Hoseok had stayed with you while you slept. He didn't wake you but quietly continued the movie and fell asleep.

Hoseok was usually sweet, so you didn't pay too much attention to it.

But it did make you feel special.

.

.

It was the day of the fashion show, and you were fucking nervous.

You had done this before, a show, but this one was different. You had put in so much effort and were proud of how it turned out but were afraid of what other people would think.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Allie assured through video call,” it’ll be excellent, and everyone won’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably,” you replied, putting on your makeup.

“It will be excellent, Y/N. I am so sure I will bet money.” She stated.

You chuckled, "then I'll take your word for it because I am not bidding money.”

You both laughed.

“Okay, I know I already showed you my outfit, but are you sure it looks good?” She asked, putting on the A-line floor-length dress she’d shown you before. It was a beautiful viridian green with lace shoulder straps that draped over the sides of her biceps.

“You look beautiful,” you complimented, setting your makeup with setting spray and heading to your closet.

You put on the suit you made and looked in the mirror. You looked a bad bitch.

“You look great! Oooo, put on the red bottoms,” Allie squealed.

You put on the signature Louis Vuitton black high heels with the ruby bottoms.

Your phone buzzed.

“I got to go; Westley is here with our ride to the venue. I’ll see you there!”

“See you!” She waved, ending the call.

You did a quick check in the mirror, fixing your hair, grabbed your bags, and headed out the door.

Your driver waited outside the vehicle as you approached, and opened its door, showing you a well-dressed and excited Westley.

"Oh my god, you look great!" He gasped. “When did you make the suit?”

“I finished it a week before we flew out,” you chuckled, “and you look great too! I love the pine on you.”

You took a step back and looked at Westley’s crisp pine-coloured suit with matching brown dress shoes.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Okay, get in before we become late.”

You hopped into the car, and your driver got in and started the vehicle.

The drive was spent recalling your opening and closing speeches with Westley and the show's agenda.

“So, five pm is when the show ends, and then the guests for the after-party go into the ballroom area. Food is served at six pm, and everything is wrapped up at ten pm.” Westley relayed.

You nodded, “Yup.”

Both of you arrived a couple hours before the start time, which was at 1 pm, to set everything up and warm up the models and crew.

Westley checked the organizers and the models while you went to the runway area to check the lights and sound.

"Let's rerun the lights, please!" You announced as you walked into the runway room. "Can I get a headset, please?" You ask the crew on the ground, who nodded.

“Yup!” You heard the lighting crew respond.

You were given the headset, and you heard the head light technician’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” They checked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

They ran by the six light settings for the show, and it was all correct.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Can you please check that the sound is alright?” You asked through the headset.

“Yup. You’ll have to hand the headset to another person, though, and we’ll give you a mic.” They added.

You heard their muffled voice as if they covered their mic's headset with their hand. Next, you had someone hand you a mic and take your headset.

“You’ll need to stand on the stage,” The person said.

“Okay,” you replied, going to the runway and standing on the end portion.

All the room’s lights turned on, and you could see the lighting crew’s area in the back and the chair organized around the runway.

“You can speak into the mic!” You heard someone shout.

You started speaking nonsense in the mic, like the type of weather outside, as they adjusted the volume.

“Thank you!” Someone shouted.

“Thanks,” you said into the mic before handing it to one of the crew.

“Is there anything to report? Any problems that arose before I got here?” You asked the crew.

They all shook their heads.

“How is everyone feeling?” You asked.

They all shared nervous laughter, and a few people said “good.”

“Alright, if there’s anything you all need, just come to the modelling area and ask me. It’s in the backroom.”

They all nodded, and you left them to their business.

You arrived in the backroom and saw designers fitting their outfits on the models and makeup artists and hairstylists prepping their stations.

“How is everybody doing?!” You enthusiastically asked.

They cheered with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"I get it. Everyone is on their toes. You all have an hour left to set things up before people start filing in. Remember, the show starts at 1 pm. The door opens thirty minutes before them.”

They call responded with various forms of understanding, and you went around to check on them individually.

Rachel came and taped your shoulder, with a headset on, “So, the guards are in their posts, and the front is ready to check people in.”

“Is there a line already?” You asked.

Rachel pressed down the headset, asking the crew on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a line of people outside,” she reported, “about twenty people, so far.”

"Shit, yeah, let them in. It's probably cold." You ordered.

“I’ll tell them,” she replied.

“Okay, everyone! We’re starting to let people in. Again, you all have about an hour left, so try to wrap things up and relax. Thank you!” You announced.

Again, sounds of understanding, and you, Westley, and Rachel left the backroom.

“Rachel, Westley and I are going to check that the ballroom area and catering are all handled. Please check in with the front desk to see how they're doing, and then meet us in the ballroom." You told.

“Got it, Y/N,” Rachel answered, walking past the two of you and towards the front area.

Westley appeared impressed. “She's terrific. She's even got the headset and everything."

"I know, right? She's cool." You remarked.

Like clockwork, you and Westley ran over the details and schedule for the catering and the after-party. Everyone had places to sit, with elegantly decorated name cards.

Everything was ready.

"Fantastic, thank you," you thanked the caterers and the staff in the ballroom. "Feel free to come into the runway area during the show if you all would like to watch."

With that, it was about time the show would start. You and Westley hurried backstage, where you both were handed microphones.

The lights dimmed, and classical music played—fitting the theme of elegance and high class.

You and Westley regarded each other, did an excellent handshake, and strutted out on the runway. Both of you were met with applause from the crowd and blinding spotlights.

You two walked to the end of the runway and let out an exhausted sigh.

The music quieted, faintly heard in the background.

“And that’s why I’m not a model,” Westley joked, causing the crowd to giggle.

“Same here,” you chuckled.

“Anyways, welcome to the show, everyone!” You cheered, and the crowd clapped. “As you know, I am Y/N, and this is Westley. Today, we’ll be showing recycled elegant clothes on people. Not just models, but people. All the clothes you'll be seeing here today are made from recycled fabrics and hand-crafted by our design team and me."

Applause.

"We wanted to represent people, so we got people to present our clothes. Redundant, I know, but the fashion industry rarely shows models that look like people. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all fantastic. However, this show will be different. Enjoy!” Westley waved.

A final round of applause while you and Westley walked off the runway.

The show went smoothly and wonderfully. The changes were fluid, and there were no clothing mishaps. The classical music turned into upbeat music that everyone seemed to groove to. Models danced on the runway while walking, and there were joyful cheers in the crowd.

In the end, you and Westley gave your brief thank you speeches, and months of planning and work were officially completed.

When everyone was backstage, you all collectively cheered.

“Phenomenal job, everyone!” You praised. “I am speechless at how well we all did. Thank you all for being such wonderful people to work with.”

Smiles and cheers were shared as everyone got ready for the after-party.

“Okay, remember that food is being served at six o’clock, and you all will be able to find your names at a table.” You reminded.

You and Westley did a quick check-up on people before heading to the ballroom area to socialize.

“Great job, you two!” Some complimented.

You and Westley thanked the praise and had a small talk with some colleges.

“Hey, Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice say.

You turned and say Hoseok with the rest of the boys, waving.

“Hey!” You smiled, nudging Westley to join you.

"Well, enjoy the after-party," Westley grinned at the other guests before joining you.

As always, the seven boys were well-dressed in designer suits. Hoseok wore lightly tinted shades paired with a dark suit and floral dress shirt. His hair was wavy.

“That was awesome, Y/N,” Namjoon said.

“Thank you!” You replied.

“Yeah, Y/N, I loved the recycled-fabrics idea. Are anything on sale?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "Everything will be on sale next month. I'll send you the dates, so you mark them in your calendar. The clothes go fast," you chuckled.

“Damn,” Taehyung remarked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Jimin,” Westley greeted.

“Hey West,” Jimin smiled, “loved your speech today. That suit looks great on you.”

“I know,” Westley smirked, “you look good too.”

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok asked, letting Westley and Jimin casually flirt.

You sighed. “Glad that it’s over, to be honest. It was fun, of course, but it's a lot of work to organize."

“Oh my god, is that Charlie Puth?” Jungkook gasped, hiding slightly behind Namjoon.

Everyone laughed.

"You should go and say 'hi,' Kook. You've already met and sung with him before. You two are practically friends." Yoongi expressed.

“True,” you agreed, “and Charlie’s a nice guy.”

“Okay,” Jungkook straightened his posture, “I’ll do it.”

You all watched Jungkook walk over and begin chatting with Charlie Puth.

“God, he’s grown up so much,” Seokjin sighed.

The rest of you caught up and chatted about the show.

Before you knew it, Westley was poking your side to let you know it was five minutes until six.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry to cut this convo short, but Westley and I have to announce dinner. We’ll talk soon!”

You all said your goodbyes, and you and Westley went up to the front to state it was time for food.

You two were seated with Rachel, Allie, and a couple others. Everyone ordered off a menu, which served various kinds of pasta, salads, and a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

It was an excellent way to end off the show.

There was a dancefloor, too, where people could groove to music after eating.

Of course, the seven boys went to the dancefloor, which caused others to join.

You were finishing off your fettuccine alfredo when Hoseok danced over to your table. You chuckled as he held his hand out and quirked a brow.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, taking his hand.

“You love it,” he smirked, pulling you off your chair and leading you to the dancefloor.

You danced together, along with your friends. He held your hands as you two swayed to the slow songs and body-rolled with you during the upbeat songs. Of course, a few BTS songs played, and everyone tried to follow the known choreography. You went back to your table for a drink of water, and Allie came with you. "Look, and you and Hoseok dancing up a storm," she teased. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “The chemistry is there, Y/N,” she commented. You drank your water. "Not now, Al." “Come on! He’s here for, what, the night and then gone tomorrow morning? When will you see him again?” She asked. You paused, honestly unsure when you'd see Hoseok again. “Now or never, Y/N. How much longer can you debate this?” “I know,” you replied. “I’ll do it later tonight.” Around nine-thirty, the party was dying down, with only a few guests scattered around the venue helping to clean up. You made eye contact with Allie, who was tending to the chairs, who nudged towards Hoseok’s direction. Now or never. You said in your head. “Can I speak to you, Hoseok?” You asked, walking up to him. “For sure!” He replied. You led both of you to a secluded part of the venue, away from listeners. “Did you enjoy the show?” You asked. “Yeah! You did a fantastic job, Y/N. I love how everything turned out, the colours, the recycled fabrics were great—and your suit! I can’t believe you made it,” Hoseok complimented, stepping back to look at your attire. “Thank you,” you blushed. You gave a quick look around to make sure no one was around. “Is everything alright, Y/N? You’re looking around as if they’re spies around.” He gasped. “Are there spies around? What secret don’t they know?” “I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.” You abruptly stated. A stretch of silence. Hoseok’s expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. “What?” “I can’t have sex with you anymore.” “You can’t or don’t want to? Is it something I did?” “Yes? No? In a way?” You pondered. You took a few deep breaths. "I like you, Hoseok—possibly even love you.” You ran your hand through your hair. “I know we agreed not to catch feelings, so I think we should stop having sex.” You watched his expression shift from some form of being happy to disappointment. “You know I cannot date with work,” he explained, "with the fans, touring, and whatnot, I cannot date someone. And you have your company to work on." “I know,” you replied. “But do you like me back?” You asked. “I do—” “You do?” You were on the verge of hugging him, but he stepped back. You looked at him, confused. “We can’t—” “Why?” “I literally just told you, Y/N. With work, dating wouldn’t allow it. I already have people—” He choked on his words. “People who wish I was dead, j-just for being me.” “Hoseok—” You reached out to him, but he gently pushed you away. “No,” he objected, “I’m fine. I just don’t want to add you to the mess.” “You can’t decide that for me.” You retorted. “I understand that you don’t want to add me to it, but I’m okay with it. I don't care what other people would say about us. They're not in the relationship, we are—" “But what if I care?” He said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I’m the happy guy of BTS, who’s dedicated to his work.” “But are you truly happy?” You peered into him. “Yeah,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “but it gets really hard sometimes.” “So, let me help, Hoseok,” you pleaded. "I don't need to be helped! I'm not another project for you to work on.” He thundered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” You seethed. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re not dating, that’s it.” He dictated. “Fine.” You replied. “Have a safe trip back home.” You left without another word, trying your best not to cry. Out of all the ways you thought he'd respond, this took you off guard. Hoseok wasn't one to push you away, but here he was doing so. “Fuck this,” you whimpered, walking up to Allie. “I’m going back to the hotel, sorry,” you said, turning away as soon as possible. “Y/N!”

You washed your face and hoped into the shower—the warm water soothing your sore muscles and emotions. You couldn’t tell if it was the water or your tears streaming down your face.

What else did you expect? Hoseok had a point: with his work, he couldn’t date someone. And it was ridiculous that Hoseok would want to date you.

However, instead of sulking over Hoseok, you decided to have a bath and put on a facemask.

The room’s phone rang while you were starting the bath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?

“Speaking,” you confirmed.

“Great! There’s a man here, named,” a muffled noise, “Hoseok Jung.”

“Tell him I’m busy, please,” you replied.

Another muffled noise. “Hoseok says he's sorry and that he has ice cream—cookie dough. But if he’s dangerous, I can call the police.”

“No, no. God no,” you said.

You bit your lip. "You can send Hoseok up."

“Okay. However, if there’s anything wrong, please try to press the red button on the receiver. I will check back with you in an hour. If there’s no response, I’ll get someone to check on you.” They informed.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked by their concern.

You hung up.

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. You tightened your robe.

You checked the peephole before cracking the door open.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey," he smiled. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party. It was sudden and insensitive. I should have been more considerate of your feelings rather than shutting you off.”

“I was just—scared. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for us. And I don't want you to fix me—but I like you, a lot—so I brought cookie dough ice cream and two spoons—"

“Do you want to come in?” You interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Yes, thank you,” he chuckled.

Hoseok still wore the suit from the fashion show, but his jacket was folded over his arm, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned lower.

“Oh, you’re running the bath,” he noticed. "We can deal with this later if it's a bad time."

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just turn off the water.” You replied, going to the bathroom to do so.

When you came back, Hoseok was sitting on the edge of your bed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, sitting beside him.

He opened the ice cream tub, setting the lid on the desk and handing you one of the spoons.

“I was thinking you could talk more, actually; about how you feel," he replied, giving you the tub and angling himself to face you. "I just want to listen to you this time."

You gave a brief smile before spooning a small piece of ice cream into your mouth.

“Well, I just feel like we’re in this grey area of being really close but having sex. And we both like each other, and we said at the venue, and I just feel like we should just date then.” You set the ice cream and spoon down on the desk. “I get that work complicates things for you. But once we’ve confessed our feelings, I just don’t know what to call this—this friendship?”

Hoseok nodded.

"So, if you don't want to date, that's completely fine. I understand. However, we can't keep having sex like we used to; because I have feelings for you now, and you said you do too, so it's not a good mix."

“That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“But what do you think? Like, how do you feel about us?” You asked.

He paused and set his spoon on the desk with yours. “I want to date you, Y/N. I just don’t want to get you hurt.” He softly grasped your hands. “The industry can be toxic, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

“I understand,” you replied, “but I want to date you too, regardless of all the other bullshit. As cheesy as it sounds, all I want is you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled but then pretended to gag.

“Hobi! I was romantic."

“Sorry, but that was so cheesy.” He cringed.

“So, do you want to just start dating, then?” You proposed. “We have the ice cream here; we can pretend to get to know each other more.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Hoseok stood up and held his hand out to you. “Y/N Y/L, will you go on a date with me?”

You laughed but composed yourself. “I would love to, Jung Hoseok.” You took his hand, and he immediately sat back down.

“So, Y/N,” Hoseok began, handing you the partially melted ice cream and your spoon, “what do you like to do on the weekends?”

.

.

1 year later.

“I’m thinking of moving to Korea,” you said. Hoseok turned to you, surprised. “Really? But you’re not based here.” “I know,” you acknowledged, “but I can fly in and skype, or whatever. I can have a home base here, too.” You were visiting Hoseok for a couple weeks before you had to go back home for a clothing launch. Both of you were cuddling at his place when you brought up your idea of moving to Korea. “Of course, it wouldn’t be immediate. I would need to sort things out with Westley and Rachel and organize a place to stay here and a work area. The company is sturdy enough to handle the change.” You reasoned. “You could move in with me,” he suggested, turning his body to face you. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, why not. We’ve been dating for a while now, and it makes sense.” He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.” You kissed him. “No, I want to.” Both of you discussed what your move would be like and imagined living together. If you were to look back at how your relationship with Hoseok progressed, you would be shocked. In a matter of a few months, you and Hoseok went from friends to romantic partners. Although you had not come out publicly about your relationship, many people had a sense it existed; but that didn’t matter. You and Hoseok were in a secure and healthy relationship. It was long distanced, but you two made it work by visiting each other when you could and calling almost every day. The only thing that didn’t change was the sex—although it had gotten better. Nevertheless, so much has happened over the past year. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[iliumheightnights]

We have a jedi [7] | Peter Parker x M!Stark Reader

Fandom: Star wars and Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader, Tony Stark x Son!Reader

Summary: (M/N) receives a warning from a new ally.

Read from beginning

(M/N) stood on the terrace overlooking the city. Night had overtaken the sky and even with all the destruction, the lights of the city shone bright. Many of the smoke plumes and fires had been put out and peace had somewhat returned to the city. It didn’t matter though. No matter how many fires you put out or walls you rebuild, the people wouldn’t forget about what happened here. That was the price of war. It always leaves scars.

During dinner, he and Janai talked with his father and the other avengers. They all introduced themselves and their stories. Each had an interesting past to say the least. In return he told them about himself and the war across the galaxy. They were surprised that not only did life exist outside their own planet,  but also that a galaxy wide war was going on. One which Tony’s son was a part of, even at a young age. The only one who wasn’t surprised seemed to be Thor, who hailed from Asgard so it was no surprise to him. The entire time (M/N) noticed how his father never stopped smiling while looking at him, it was nice.

He was staying in the tower in a guest room. His father was able to move their ship to a warehouse for it to be repaired, which is where Janai was staying. She said it was to give him space and to make sure no one messed with the ship. He had stepped outside to get some fresh air, it was difficult for him to sleep.

“Can’t sleep?” He didn’t have to turn around to know it was his dad. 

“No. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. I’m guessing you can’t either?”

“Yeah…” Tony stood next to him and looked out on the horizon with (M/N). “It doesn’t look like there was an alien invasion today. It looks the same as any other night.”

“Maybe. But the people are still scared. I can feel the unease...it’s strong.”

“Have you always been able to do that? You know...the feeling thing.”

(M/N) let out a chuckle. “Yes and no. It’s the force calling out. Every jedi can feel it, but some are stronger than others. Mother says I’m stronger in the force than any other jedi she’s seen.” He shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s true or not.”

“Huh, Isn’t that something?” The two stood in silence for a bit before Tony spoke again. “So apparently there was going to be a missile that was supposed to go off in the city.” (M/N) turned and looked at his dad in confusion. “Fury stopped it. Apparently the council, whoever they are thought we wouldn’t be able to stop them so they were going to bomb the city.” (M/N)’s face turned dark. “They would destroy an entire city and kill everyone for nothing? It’s not like it would have stopped anything. All it would have done was kill your own people.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Hey, it’s okay bud. It was stopped. It didn’t happen.” (M/N) turned back to the city. “But it almost did. Apparently war is always the same no matter where you go.”

Tony’s grip on his shoulder tightened a bit before it loosened back up. “W-what’s it like, fighting in the war? You’re so young, you shouldn’t have to be a part of it.” (M/N) laid his hand on top of Tony’s and squeezed it a bit. “It’s not easy. I wish we didn’t have to fight. I’ve seen so much death and destruction. When I was running through the streets earlier during the fighting...it barely affected me anymore. I’ve become so used to it. I just want the fighting to stop, not for any side to win...but so the people will be safe. I’ve seen entire planets...reduced to ashes.” Tony patted his shoulder. “You know, you really are avengers material kid. You have a good heart. I’m proud of you.” The two of them turned around and began walking back inside. “Thanks...dad. Man, that’s still a little awkward.” Tony laughed. “Yeah. But I like it.”

Tony and (M/N) had bid each other good night before returning to their rooms. (M/N) still wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Moving over to the desk, he opened the drawer and pulled out the stone. He could feel the power it held just by holding it in his hand. He had never felt anything like it before. Sitting on the ground, he placed the stone in front of him and began to meditate. He could sense how the stone was lifted by the force. “You are strong in the light side, yet you are also strong in the dark.” Opening his eyes, (M/N) discovered he was no longer in the room in the tower. He seemed to be in space, he was in a ring made of white symbols he had never seen before.

 He stood up and looked around. “Where am I?” Suddenly, a small flash of light appeared and when it disappeared a man was standing there. The man however seemed to be glowing, a ghost. “You are in a place outside of time and space. A world between worlds.” (M/N) looked around once more, that...honestly made some sort of sense. Looking back at the man, he couldn’t help but feel familiar. “Who are you.”

“My name is Revan and you are one of my descendants.” The man began circling him. “I was once a Jedi like yourself, but then I was turned to the dark side by the sith emperor. I was able to return to the light, but when I went back to face the emperor I was killed. But that is a story for another time.”  Revan stood in front of him. “I have come to warn you. The sith lord that you have fought. His name is Darth Kren. The artifact he stole today, the tesseract, holds an infinity stone. The space stone to be exact. With that stone he will be able to launch multiple campaigns on occupied worlds. There is no doubt he already prepares his forces. You must stop him before it is too late.”

“How?”

“You have a strong connection to the force, like I have. Focus your mind, with the mind stone you will be able to know where he plans to strike.”

Folding his arms he began to concentrate, Revan doing the same. He focused on his breathing and on the energy surrounding him. Soon he felt his mind begin to move and before he knew it he saw the view of a planet. “Kuat. I would know those rings anywhere. He plans to attack Kuat and stop the production of more ships for the republic.”

“Yes. But not yet. He still needs to gather his forces, but so should you. You must face him and retake the stone. But you must first prepare.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you have faced him twice already, and each time you have barely held on. If you are to face him head on you must train harder. Your lightsaber alone isn’t enough. You should craft another. When you fought him with two sabers, you were equal. You will need that if you have any chance of stopping him.” Revan turned around and began walking back into open space. “Our time here is finishing. But we will talk again. Be mindful of your emotions, you will affect the fate of the galaxy whether it is on the light side...or the dark.”

Before (M/N) could ask him any more the man had disappeared. Blinking he once again found himself back in the room in the tower. The mind stone in front of him. “Huh.”

…

The next day, (M/N) exited the room to the smell of food. Walking towards where the smell was coming from he found his dad trying to make food. Trying the key word there. When Tony spotted him he smiled. “Morning (M/N), I was trying to make us food.” (M/N) smiled at him. “I can see that. Need any help?” His dad waved him off with a spatula. “No,no I got it. I wanted to make this for you. Go sit down.” (M/N) threw his hands up in mock surrender and sat down in a chair at the counter. “So what are your plans for today?” he asked his dad. Tony had finished making the food and sat the plate down in front of him. “Rebuilding. I have to rebuild the tower for the parts that were destroyed. Was thinking of making it into a building for the avengers.” (M/N) nodded at that, it was a smart idea. This world’s mightiest heroes needed a place for themselves. “What about you? You have anything planned for today? If not you can always spend stay with me, we can blow off rebuilding for now and go do something else.” (M/N) chuckled and shook his head. He remembered the events of the night before. “I have to talk with mom. Talk to her about that guy and what’s going to happen now.” 

(M/N) noticed the way his father’s face faltered a bit. Any time there had been a mention of (M/N) or Janai leaving, Tony seemed to fall back a bit. If (M/N) was correct it was because he didn’t want to lose his son again. Honestly (M/N) didn’t want to leave his father either, but there was still a war going on and he needed to be out there to help people. “I-I know you’re happy I’m here and so am I. But I’ll have to go back out there.” His father only nodded before looking back at him with a smile. “Then let’s spend as much time together as we can before you do.” Tony’s phone went off and he checked it, his face turning into a frown. “Shit. There’s some government crap that needs my attention. I can have happy drive you to your mom.” (M/N) tilted his head in confusion. “Happy? Like the emotion?” Tony laughed at that before shaking his head. “No. He’s a friend and assistant of mine. He can drive you.”

Tony walked him down to a car. “Happy, you remember (M/N). (M/N) here needs you to take him to warehouse 11. Okay gotta run. I’ll see you later.” He hugged (M/N) before heading back up the tower. (M/N) turned back to the other man. “Hello.” The man looked at him with a confused look. “(M/N)? Like little baby, son of Tony (M/N)?” He nodded at the man. “That’s correct. Well minus the baby part now.” The man laughed. “You really are your father’s son. Climb in kid.”

Happy drove them to the warehouse. The drive was difficult with so many roads closed still thanks to the debris. It was mostly silent, neither really knowing what to say. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to watch you sometimes. You were really tiny then.” The man seemed really happy to be talking with him and reflecting on the memories. (M/N) wished he could remember that but he couldn’t. “Sorry, I can’t really remember anything about my time here.” The man didn’t seem defeated. He continued to focus on the road. “So where have you been kid? I know your mom took you, but where?” (M/N) smirked. “Let’s just say it’s a long story. We never really stay in one place.” Happy didn’t respond to that and only nodded.

Pulling up to the warehouse, the two discovered many workers entering the building. “Huh, these aren’t normal Stark workers.” (M/N) turned to the man. “What do you mean?” Happy nodded at a person. “See that logo there. That’s the logo for S.H.I.E.L.D. The organization the avengers are a part of.” That made a little bit more sense for (M/N). Of course shield would want to get their hands on their ship. Opening the door, he stepped out of the car and turned back to the man. “Thanks for the ride.” The man smiled. “Wait. Let me give you my number for your phone. You can call or text me if you need me.” (M/N) looked at him again. “What’s a phone?” Happy laughed at him. “Good one kid, what’s a phone. Here’s my number.” He handed him a card with his name and numbers on it. “Thanks Happy.”

Entering the warehouse he saw the ship he and Janai arrived in being worked on. “Hey kid! This is a closed site scram!” He turned and watched as a big muscular guy walked up to him. “I’m supposed to be here. I’m here to see my mother.” The man didn’t look convinced. “Yeah sure you are. Now get out of here before I throw you out.” (M/N) was starting to lose his patience. He wasn’t afraid of this man, and gave him plenty of warning. “I’m not going anywhere. I suggest you step aside.” The man let out a growl before roughly grabbing him by the shoulders. “That’s it. Time to go.” Big mistake. Lifting his foot, he stomped on the man’s foot slipping out of his grasp. Turning he slid under the man swiping his leg, causing him to fall. Bringing his fist up, he slammed it down onto the man's head, knocking him out. Standing up he got into another fighting stance. “Who’s next?” Other people in the warehouse began to charge at him before a voice called out. “Enough!” He spotted a man in a dark trench coat with an eye patch walk towards him. He looked...eerily similar to Master Windu. Had he and his mother been found out? The man stopped in front of him, he looked at the knocked out man before looking at (M/N). “Impressive. You barely broke a sweat.” “He didn’t give me much choice.” The man nodded. “I’m director Fury. You must be (M/N) Stark.” (M/N) nodded, he remembered his father and the other avengers talk about him. “So you’re the one that stopped the bomb?” The man nodded. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

[smitten-miqitten]

Omega pt. 1

AO3 Link

I know I said I wasn’t going to write more with Shadowbringers coming up, but...

....................................................................................................

"Rocket Fists?! Really?!"

"Now is not the time to be impressed, Era!", Cid called out over linkshell.

"Impressed isn't quite the word I'd use. What is it with mad scientists and hands?! Even Nero's got those stupid claws he made. I hate those things!" shitty, stabby, awful claw hands

"Fine, not impressed. Hit them with the Jammer, would you? Focus."

{Blip} SUBJECT ENGAGING IN BANTER TO LOWER STRESS LEVELS {Blip} INCREASING DAMAGE OUTPUT TO COMPENSATE

"Shite!" Era mentally prepared to dualcast some healing spells in the near future.

The fight had been going... well, smoothly wouldn't exactly be the right word. She wasn't dead yet, if that could be counted as smooth. Her attacks weren't hitting quite as hard as she'd like; red magic spells weren't terribly potent. Red magic makes use of internal aether and the user accelerates the spell to make a less-potent-but-happens-all-at-once spell.

Era, with her aether reserves, could pack a bit more punch in her spells then your run-of-the-mill redmage, but they still barely scratched Omega. Vermillion Thunder got the best result, but if she were to cast that all day she'd literally die, so she alternated. White magic, back magic, white magic, black magic (verthunder specifically), manafication, close the gap, embolden (as if she weren't bold enough already), and unleash the condensed magic within her sword. That's where the money was, the enchanted melee on a vulnerable spot created by the Thunder. 

It was like dancing. At least, that's how Cid always saw it. Dashing to and fro, dainty well-placed steps paired with lightning fast thrusts and slashes illuminated by the light of her spellcasting, with acrobatic flips to put distance between herself and danger once she'd dealt her damage. She'd even told him once that she practiced actual dances in order to improve her footwork. Against nimble opponents it was a sight to behold, Era able to easily keep pace with even the fastest of them. Omega was not a nimble opponent, however. It didn't need to be. Her dancing gave her no advantage here.

Rocket Fists...was her life really, legitimately being threatened by something so godsdamn silly?! Era used the Jammer on the fists, a bit of a hassle actually, what with her weapon of choice employing both hands. She wanted to try and combo with it again; hit Omega with a blast of the extremely powerful current then go in for an enchanted melee attack. It had worked once, but she knew with the time it took to take the Jammer from the belt she had it on and swap it out with the Focus in her left hand Omega would have figured out she intended to repeat the trick.

Dodge laser. Heal from Ballistic Impact. Dodge Larboard (or was it Starboard?). She had Cid just say left or right when he saw Omega ready the attack, after nearly getting hit for her lack of outdated navigational knowledge. She made a mental note to never, ever tell the Admiral lest she receive a lecture from the one of the scariest women she knew.

Cid was obviously on edge; Era could hear it in his voice, though if it had effected his ability to provide support she hadn't noticed. She wanted to eschew riskier maneuvers, if only for the benefit of his nerves, but this fight would not be won that way.

Omega must have grown bored of her efforts, as he retreated from the stage and summoned one of his 'level checkers' in his stead. Dammed rude. Era swiftly dismantled the hunk of junk before it could delete her with Force Quit.

Cid came in over linkshell "I've detected an extreme energy surge from Omega! Quickly, focus the Jammer's lightning in the center of the platform!"

Era did as she was bade and started charging the spot.

"That's it! Keep building energy in that spot! It should generate a rudimentary barrier". Though he attempted to be encouraging and enthusiastic, Cid sounded quite a bit frightened.

'Rudimentary' didn't sound all that reassuring, but she could tell Omega was preparing something truly awful, and that any amount of barrier would be a good amount of barrier. Era braced for impact, tuck pierced into the platform. 

It was awful. Even with the barrier, it was all she could do to keep from getting blown of the platform. The attack knocked her sword from her hand, causing it to roll to the very edge of the arena. Shit. At least it didn't fall off, she mused, desperately hoping she wouldn't need to gather more materials for Gerolt to make a replacement. It had been bad enough the first time. Omega returned to the stage immediately after the cessation of his blast, leaving her no time to retrieve the blade. She had to resort to another tactic.

Cid looked on with growing concern until he saw a strange aether spike in Era's readings. No, aether wasn't exactly right... the sensors didn't seem to know what to call it. Abyss kept popping up, but what in the seven hells was that?

From her outstretched hand, Era manifested a deep red and black great sword of condensed aether. A similar red aura began to surround her, and her aether began to concentrate in a barrier like manner throughout her whole body.

"Fray", she said quietly, "I can't heal myself with just a sword. A little backup?"

"And here I was thinking you wouldn't want loverboy to see your darkside", responded the shadow that separated from her form. It stood roughly a head taller than her; a heavily armored male physique. It carried a conjurers staff lazily at its side and was staring at Omega with something akin to mild disinterest. "I suppose you are pretty well fucked without me, though I really don't understand why you bother asking. I am you, halfwit."

{Blip} SUBJECT HAS DIVIDED THEIR AETHER TO COMPENSATE FOR HANDICAP {Blip} SIMULACRUM IS COMPOSED OF 90% SUBJECT'S AETHER AND 10% FOREIGN AETHER {Blip} FOREIGN AETHER APPEARS TO BE A COMPOSITE OF SUBJECT'S DECEASED ALLIES' AETHER

{Blip} PROBABILITY OF SUBJECT'S SUCCESS UNCHANGED

"We're inclined to disagree", Fray growled lazily, he and Era glaring at the robot with a ferocity that nearly made it reconsider its assessment.

[son-of-the-omega-blog]

#SL #BlindedByTheDark

Written by @Son_OfThe_Omega and @ToTheGrahve. Mentions @Qhuinn_BDBFM and @Dehstruction.

#TriggerWarning #Abuse #Sexual #GraphicViolence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Grahve: Good behaviour was rewarded. It was the fastest lesson I had to learn. Maybe even faster than I learnt anything from the Brotherhood. After all, they didn’t punish failure with bloody screaming torture. They didn’t rip you down for having a moral compass by murdering innocents.

I still didn’t know that female’s name, and I suspected I never would. Her blood had covered me like a crimson baptism. I couldn’t remember much after it either. I knew there’d been Lash. I knew there’d been pain. I knew I’d wanted to die in her place.

Sitting up on the bed, I put my back to the wall, shifting to place a pillow there to keep the mesh of the cage from cutting into my flesh. Absently, I rubbed at the shackle wounds and scabs around one wrist, then reached for the book off to the side. Setting the book in my lap forced me to look down my bare chest, and the litany of new scars, wounds and bruises made my stomach flip slightly. With a huff I shifted, laying across the bed and propping myself up with one elbow.

The wounds weren’t the only thing. Lash wasn’t a fool by any stretch - in fact, I could admire his cunning, albeit reluctantly. Keeping me alive was clearly an art he’d perfected. Just enough food so I wouldn’t die but couldn’t fight back. Just enough blood to let the worst of his afflictions on my body heal. The result was I’d lost weight. The tattered black sweats I was granted as some semblance of modesty hung dangerously low on my hips, the bones becoming more prominent every day.

Those days had felt impossibly long in the first week. And the second. Each moment of fight back, every snarled curse I’d tried to hurl at him… and for what? The Brothers weren’t coming. They didn’t know where I was. Fuck, they didn’t even know if I was alive. I’d been a nomad before arriving at the compound; me up and vanishing after being rejected by the only two lovers I’d taken probably looked like I’d hit the road. I couldn’t hold out for a rescue that wasn’t coming. And I couldn’t force Lash’s hand to end me either. I’d tried. And every time he’d just gotten more creative in his ways to make me regret it.

Staring at the page for a minute, I gave up trying to read the words and closed my eyes, letting out a sigh. Thinking of Crhis, or Qhuinn, didn’t hurt so much anymore. In the beginning thinking about them had been like a knife wound, another wound that Lash could poke at and hurt. While I hadn’t given them up to him - hadn’t forsaken the last morsels of my morality by betraying them to the demon, I had let whatever other feelings I had die.

There was only so much of me I could keep alive anyway.

‘Another time, another place, you could’ve been /my/ brother.’

My jaw locked at Lash’s voice in my head, at the memory of him sitting beside me to stare out the window as we sipped a beer. Together. It hurt more because some tiny, desperate part of me wanted it. Craved it. Any family I’d had had died long ago. I’d wandered the world alone. Lash musing about how nice it would’ve been to have a real partner, a real ally in the world, tore at some part of me I wanted to cut out and throw away. And yet I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t forget the look on his face, the smile he’d flashed me that had been less malice and more amusement. The fact he’d clicked his bottle to mine, and left me alone that night.

The door burst in, but I didn’t flinch. Instead I opened my eyes and looked up, maintaining my spot on the bed as Lash strolled in, clearly irritated. Anxiety shot through my chest, even as I kept a cool facade. Any sign of weakness and he’d be on me, taking out his frustrations on my body, or in my body. Instead I adopted a drawl as he ripped off his jacket and flung it aside.

“S’matter? Brotherhood finally lift the lockdown and start breaking all your toys again?”

Lash: [The stifling wind ruffled the tails of my coat; even the hideyhole I’d concealed my presence in did little to buffer the weather. Add to that King Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath, had lifted lockdown protocol. Low growls and curses floated up as the Brotherhood wiped the alley with a half dozen new recruits.

Fucking fools. The only bene that would come from that was I didn’t need to mete out the only punishment they truly feared. Being sent back to the Omega. The Dehstroyer wasn’t among the bulk of the males below, the pack consisting of Tohrment, son of Hharm, Rhage, son of Tohrture and Zsadist, first born son of Aghony, blooded twin to the Primale Phury. Such a cast. The males below moved with astonishing efficiency, the entire encounter from the first sighting to the fading light of the last Lesser being sent back to the Omega lasted less than fifteen minutes.

Movement a block over caught my senses, my scattered molecules ghosted to materialize feet away from one of the last few Primes left in my army and held a hand up.]

Let the fuckers go for now. Meet back here at dusk and don’t fucking disappoint me of you’ll be that fucking purple dragon’s appetizer on your way to the Omega.

[On that snarl and string of curses I chose to ignore from the lead male, I ghosted back to the warehouse. I was pissed to say the very least, but the thought of the trainee still chained up waiting for me eased my mood only a little. The male proved worthy enough of keeping alive despite his efforts to try and force me to end him. While that had been my ultimate plan, he had earned a grudging piece of respect in that will of his just prior to his breaking.

Materializing back at the warehouse hadn’t done much to calm down the fury that still boiled beneath the surface of my thinly veiled control, the door slamming closed didn’t even elicit a jump from the trainee on the bed across the room. He’d learned early on that quick moves brought swifter interception. Throwing my jacket into a chair with a low growl, I pinned the male with a look that said I wasn’t in the mood to fuck with at the point of his words. Truthfully, yeah, the fuckers did. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.]

Matter of fact, it seems King Wrath set the whole bunch loose on my troops. And wiped the alley with them. Fucking pathetic wastes of skin.

[Pacing toward the work table, I picked up a long bladed knife when I paused, the thin metal honed sharper than a scalpel, glinting in the light.]

Six of them gone just like that. As fast as the Omega can crank them out, the fucking Brothers take them out. [Looking over my shoulder at the male, I could scent his anxiety, and a minute hint of fear. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the way he’d squirmed and screamed, begged for the life of others with his own in their place. But the now, I was the slightest disappointed. Just the slightest. Slowly setting the blade down and turning, with a firm grip on my spontaneous desire to hurt, I walked over to the cage and with a flick of a key, unlocked the door, letting it swing open.]

Grahve: The open door was a test in itself, and one I’d learned to pass. Rather than eye it like the gateway to freedom I knew it wasn’t, I instead closed the book, sat up and swung my legs off the side of the bed. There I remained, hands loose in my lap, until Lash indicated otherwise. Thankfully, there was no steel collar in his hand - but the night was young. I had to play my cards carefully.

“I could point out that that was the reason for this war, wasn’t it? Besides, the Brothers have had centuries to perfect the art of being a killer or a soldier,” I point out calmly, watching him. “Whereas you only had a few weeks of their lockdown to do it with your… troops.”

Word used very loosely there. Lash’s Lessers (say that five times fast) were about as capable as a headless chicken, with the upside for the chicken that it would at least smell good once it was cooked.

Finally tearing my gaze away from the male, I let my mind consider who, realistically, could pose a threat to the Brotherhood. Lessers gained strength by handing over their souls to the Omega, but if you didn’t know how to use strength, you were fucking useless, just really strong about it.

“There’s almost something to be said for narrowing the field of humans,” I muttered to myself, then realised I’d spoken aloud. Regret flared, immediate and sharp, but Lash’s eyes had narrowed on me now, clearly curious, and I couldn’t pull back. To do so would be to incite his wrath, and I’d barely healed enough from the last beating. Another round of torture and the demon spawn would be bringing another female in. I had to heal on my own, or someone would pay the price for me...

“Picking drug dealers and street thugs gives you pawns on a chessboard, but pawns are only good for one thing; sacrifice. You need Bishops. Rooks. Knights.”

I held off saying ‘Queen’. Cause barf. If it was true that Lash was hung up on having that Lassiter back here too, then I could just about picture that poor angelic fuck being some equivalent of a queen too. He had enough glitter and sparkles for it. I actually missed the shit…

“Why not take your sights higher?” I continue, every word tasting like bile in my mouth as I forced them out. “Imagine politicians, senators, businessmen. What was it they said about human CEO’s? Half of them are borderline psychopaths already? Imagine giving them power. Immortality. Then they give you money. Men. Or prison wardens,” I add, trying my hardest not to clench my hands into fists. “They can then refer more pawns. More options that aren’t just… cannon fodder.”

Scribe, forgive me. Please forgive me…

Lash: [Casually watching the male, I didn’t miss the fact that he’d learned well. He didn’t bolt as he had the first handful of times I’d left the door open, in fact, he waited properly. Like a good pet. That wasn’t all that caught my attention. The seed he’d planted made sense if I could cultivate it to my own needs.

Humans were needed for the Omega to turn into Lessers, that was a given. Generally, /any/ human would do. But those that had a propensity to more questionable morals, no family to speak of, were full of evil and vindictiveness, /those/ were the ones that made more desirable lessers. Less mess in the human world to deal with such as ‘missing person’ reports and human law enforcement poking their noses where it didn’t belong. Not that I had issues with dispatching my own clean up crews to deal, it was just more convenient.]

Prison wardens, huh. [If the crap spewed on TV even remotely portrayed that class of rat adequately, then I had a new solid lead on replenishing my troops. Tossing the male a slow grin and a nod, a flick of a few fingers, his cue that he was given permission to get up and move about freely, I turned and walked to the small refrigerator.

Being half Lesser didn’t mean I couldn’t eat, but I saw no need to withhold nourishment from my pet for a good idea. Keeping the small unit stocked still miffed the Lessers assigned to the duty, but no less derelict in their choices. Removing two bottles of beer and a plate that held a decent meal of meat and vegetables, I set one bottle and the plate on the makeshift table, the other I twisted the top off and downed a swallow. The male moved slowly, but I could see the hunger in his body, the way he moved. And it wasn’t just for food.

Facing facts, the male was going to have to have another feed soon. His clothing hung off him like tattered rags. If this idea of Grahve’s panned out, I’d reward him with something that was fitting for a male of his worth. Sending a Prime squad out for a female would be priority.]

So. Where’s the nearest human prison?

Grahve: Leaving the cage felt like I was a bird finally allowed to stretch my wings. It felt like breathing again after spending hours holding my breath. Shuffling over to the table, I sat before the meal and took my time taking up the fork, even as my stomach snarled. At Lash’s question I glanced sideways at the male, brutally aware of how he watched me.

“Upstate, I believe,” I answered automatically. Sure, I’d probably been the one vampire in the whole manse that had chosen to live among humans, but that didn’t mean I kept track of where they were incarcerated. Like, c’mon…

Taking several mouthfuls, I chewed slowly to savor it, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t see it again soon and could, in fact, digest something. When I felt the monster that’d been growling in my stomach was distracted enough by the morsels it could munch on, I grabbed the beer and took a long, generous swig.

Fuck me that was brilliant. Honestly, when you were living on scraps and from moment to moment, every single thing became so much more. One beer was god damn ambrosia.

“Having authority figures on your team within the system would mean they could notify you as inmates are going to be released, or even intervene on sentence lengths and commuting sentences if they want them out early,” I continue, pushing a bit of meat around with the fork then piercing it to put it to my lips.

The idea that Lash had essentially got me dinner and a drink like this was a date passed through my stupid and sarcastic brain, and I shoved it away. Besides, it wasn’t like I could say ‘no’ if Lash got me drunk and stuck his hand up my skirt. The male was going to take whatever he wanted from me. Just like he already had…

“The Brotherhood expects you to be in places like this,” I said instead, turning my head to watch him. “Imagine if you had a benefactor that could put you in a high rise? A condo? Somewhere the Brothers would never expect and letting you live the luxury life you deserve?”

Lash: Upstate. [I repeated, toying with the bottle as I watched the male intently consume his food. He had manners worthy of sitting at any table, even with his shabby clothes and scruffy beard growing in he still made quite a good looking piece. Yes, the male was definitely due a good feeding. Maybe this female would last longer than a few days before another was needed. It had been at least a week since the last one was brought in, fewer of the weaker sex were tracked alone between clubs and their homes. Time to step up the hunt for blood, and in that end a good fucking.

In the meantime, I was quite eager to work on this idea that Grahve had set to my mind.]

Sounds very lucrative, and highly promising. To hide right under the Brotherhood’s noses and they be none the wiser. So tell me. [Leaning forward, elbows on my knees and eyes fully on the male, I was cataloging every move he made from here until I was satisfied, and took another drink from my bottle.]

How do you know all this, how the human’s authority system works? How do I know you’re not just feeding me a few good sounding lines so I’ll send a squad on a wild chase that will end in a trap? [It occured to me that while the idea was definitely appealing, it also held the lurking questionable danger that the Brotherhood would be there, set up to ambush the squadron. If that held true, Grahve would be sent back to Wrath in pieces, each part gift wrapped and addressed to the children. Gifts from the glymera to their wellbeing.

But, in the chance that what the trainee was saying bore fruit, he would live longer, and maybe even be partially inducted as the once human Brian O’Neil. Either way, Grahve was mine to do with as I pleased.]

Grahve: The panic I had worked so hard to hide reared its head at Lash’s question; at the implication I was setting him or his minions up for an ass whooping. The fork clattered to the plate as my hand shook, and I clenched it into a fist to control the tremor. Somehow keeping my voice even, I spoke.

“I lived among humans. For over fifty years. I trained with their masters, their best. I know how they function, what they like.” I looked to Lash now, and I hated that he would see the fear in my eyes, but it was there, and I couldn’t stop it. “And I wouldn’t feed you anything. I have no contact with the Brotherhood now. How would they know? And why would I give you a reason to…”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence, because I was sure both of us were thinking of /exactly/ what Lash could do to me if I lied or deceived him. The fact I held out on giving up more information on the Brothers or Qhuinn and Crhis was no doubt a sore point he hoped to remedy as soon as I was physically able to withstand it and not die. In the meantime, he made a point of finding other ways, and he was creative.

In my younger, more naive years, I’d thought I could survive or withstand anything. I’d never be broken. I’d never surrender. I would /die/ before I became something I hated. Turns out pain is a great motivator for just about anything. Being broken by Lash… was never something I could have anticipated, and as each piece of my soul was sold to him, I realised I had no idea who I was, or what I could withstand.

Dropping my head in a bow, like a bad fucking dog, I closed my eyes.

“I have not lied. Did you smell a lie on me?” I whispered. “I will do as you ask.”

Lash: Good boy. [Grahve spoke the truth as he knew it; he neither smelled of lie or deceit, but I still needed to feel him out all the same. Even if his reaction was indicative of a lie, there was absolutely nothing I sensed that told me otherwise.]

I figured you would do as I asked. But I needed to be sure in asking, you understand. [Had I sensed a lie coming off the male, he’d have at least enjoyed his last First Meal.

The new building had a similar set up last the last persuasion center, the usual tables, benches and work spaces. And the remote skylight, with one little detail adjusted. I could will it open as easily as I could turn off lights with hardly a thought. Four deep set posts appeared only as stabilizing columns, that doubled as a four post rack. A body would be strung from all four corners by long cables just under the roof’s opening, which was angled to catch the first of the sun’s rays. And if the weatherman couldn’t get the forecast correct, large mirrors were erected in strategic spots around the main space in the event cloud cover was an issue. Just open the skylight, let the sun shine in, bounce a few beams around like a dancefloor party and, poof! Clean up would be a breeze.

Leaning back in my chair, fingers toying with the bottle in my hand, I gave more thought to the idea of hiding in plain sight. It would certainly help with bringing in females to feed the trainee, less distance to move them, and more opportunities to watch the Brotherhood, engage from a shorter distance with the males being none the wiser. And didn’t that give me a hard on. A chance to take those fuckers out was that much closer.]

Finish eating, you’re going to need your strength. [Tipping the bottle to my lips and taking a long drink, I watched the male’s reaction. Relief. Shock that I believed him. Wary that I didn’t beat him with his fork or fuck him into submission. Though the latter I’d do just for the sheer enjoyment.]

Grahve: My relief was short lived. The phrase ‘need your strength’ sapped at my will to live and any appetite I’d had left. But he wasn’t kidding. If I didn’t eat it now, it’d probably be pureed into a mix that could be put in an IV, threaded through my nose and down my throat. Ask me how I know. I dare you.

Forcing myself to take the last mouthfuls and chew slowly, savoring this moment before whatever hell had to come next, I finally swallowed and sat back. Reaching for what was left of the beer, I felt no measure of pride that my hand didn’t shake. It had in the beginning, but now it wasn’t courage or bravery that held me steadfast - it was the knowledge that nothing I did would change it, and there was no escaping it. What level was that in the stages of grief? Acceptance?

Downing the bottle, I put it beside the empty plate and rose from the chair, turning to face Lash and wait. His eyes ran over me, examining his last marks, looking for where to make new ones. When his eyes ghosted over the dangerously low waistline of the sweats, the jut of my hip bones, I knew he was considering me naked.

What did it mean when I could anticipate the look on his face with the kind of pain, humiliation or torture that would come next? I knew people that played cards had a tell, so maybe expert torturers did too.

“...what do you want, sunshine?” I asked tiredly, glancing down at myself. “What’s it gonna be today?”

Lash: What’s it to be, what’s my choice of the night… I think.. [Lustful eyes glanced over the male with dark interest, a deeper hunger of my own boiled under the surface, a near insatiable hunger that I’d not deny myself, just not yet. I’d branded this male in ways he never thought possible, each scar a visual reminder that I owned him, and with good behavior, he’d been guardedly rewarded.]

Why do you protect them? They haven’t come looking for you, I’d have eyes and ears all over Caldwell, yet not a peep from the Brotherhood. [The big burning question had yet to be answered, kudos to the trainee for keeping such a tight lid on the info.

That information I needed, it was vital in a way to hit the Brotherhood where it counted most: their hearts. Hit the heart and weaken it, then the rest was easy pickings. And what better way to shred a male’s heart than to target the one person, or persons as in the case of Wrath, his shellan and his only heir, that said male would give his life to protect at all costs. Take loved ones out of the equation and everything else crumbled. Just look at what my little shopping trip with the Queen brought on. And that was just a test.

Two fingers gripping the neck of the bottle tipped it to my lips, the less-than ice cold amber liquid sliding down my throat without a taste, eyes never leaving the male in front of me.]

You chose me that night when you sought to ease your wounded heart, not one of them. So why not choose me now?

Grahve: I felt my lips part in stunned surprise. Of all the questions, all the interrogations, I’d never expected that. Choose Lash?

My gaze slid away from him, like I could hide the myriad of emotions running through me, but it was one of the few defense mechanisms I had left. His observation that the Brotherhood hadn’t looked for me, hadn’t cared enough to try and find me, struck at my core. I thought of Crhis, of standing beside him in battle and lying beneath him on a bed. I thought of Qhuinn, dropping down in an alley after I’d dispatched Lessers and bringing me into the Brotherhood, kissing me. I thought of every Brother, of Doc Jane and hell, even fucking Murhder, and it /hurt/. A chasm opened up in my chest where I’d put those new feelings, those new loves and admirations and friendships, and it ached.

They hadn’t looked for me. Had they even cared? Could Lash ever replace that? Ever fill the void that existed now that I’d known those emotions?

Clenching my jaw, I closed my eyes.

“I chose Ahrmour. I chose a male that was a flirt and kind and… and not a fucking demon,” I managed, drawing a ragged breath in through my nose. “I was looking for someone that wasn’t going to hurt me…” I actually let out a snort, my laugh bitter. “Look how fucking well that worked out for me…”

Lash: [Here it came. The tide of emotions the male carried with him made him sway in his shackles. In a lightning quick move with no warning, I stood and pulled the male against me, caging his thin frame in my arms. Hindbrain said he was dangerously thin, I felt his bones jutting from under his skin as I pressed him to me. Keeping him weak was beneficial for the both of us; he wasn’t strong enough to fight his way free, and that in turn kept him alive.]

Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t born this way. [Nor did I have a choice with what the Omega turned me into. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other when it occurred, I was just as eager to put a blade in Qhuinn’s chest now as he did to me back then. All for a damn joke that mute John Mathew took too fucking seriously. Qhuinn was the one who needed putting down, even the glymera had failed at that attempt.

The cyclone of emotions Grahve kept locked down lurked under the surface, his grunt of surprise and tensing muscles gleaned of fear and wariness, filling my nose with their telltale scents.]

Grahve: I didn’t fight the lock of Lash’s embrace; it was the only warmth I knew anymore. There was nothing cruel or painful in it either, other than the fact it wasn’t who I wished was holding me. I stood in the brace of his arms and felt my body lean into him, against him, some pathetic part of me grateful for the support.

It was true - he hadn’t been born the way he was now. He’d been broken and shaped, same as any weapon, as any tool. A part of me sympathized with that. When forged in fire and blood most things ended up lethal and dangerous. But there was always choice.

“And if I say no… again…” I whispered, dropping my forehead until it rested on the curve of his shoulder, “will you hurt me… again? You’re making your choices… and I made mine…”

I’d chosen the Brotherhood. I’d chosen to fight for the race and protect people. Even if I couldn’t do that anymore, even if I was helpless to do nothing else but suffer and die, I could hold on to that. To the idea.

“What do you want from me, Lash?”

Lash: [No verbal answer would satisfy either of us, and as it was in the moment, my desire to hurt and kill was admonishingly overwhelmed by another more basic need. Lips brushed the column of his neck from ear to base, hands spreading fingers wide to devour a meal of touch that was wasn't full of fight. Yet.

Shifting gears and turning the pair of us to back step by step until the the male was within inches of the bed he'd been given; Grahve knew better than to resist, though I'd have had no problem had he been unwilling. Hands tore at his pants, my fangs, teeth and lips now scraping along the male's flesh as the growing scent of arousal thickened the air.]

Grahve: His lips were gentle. His hands were gentle. And far be it for me to complain when I knew what the alternative was. I could resist all I liked, but it wouldn’t change anything other than how broken I’d feel after. Maybe, just maybe, I could pretend the fangs grazing my skin belonged to Ahrmour, the bright eyed, sassy male I’d met at that bar. Maybe then I wouldn’t hate myself for the way my body reacted, the way a part of me yearned for something as simple as a kind caress.

As the pants were ripped away to leave me bare, and with the bed behind me, I lifted my head to look at Ahrmour. He was all energy and arousal and need, and I let myself be swept away in that as my hands stroked up under his shirt, shackles clinking as I ran them across the smooth, taut flesh. I kissed him if he wanted to be kissed, I touched him only when he wanted to be touched.

I could feel my body growing hard with every kiss, every lick and nip of his fangs. My own fangs slid down as I groaned softly, half dropping back onto the bed and staring up at him, waiting.

Lash: [Fangs long and throbbing with hunger, I glanced down at the display before me: male worthy of feasting on spread below, ready, nacht, /willing/ to bed a viper. Willing the cage door closed and the thick shackles unlocked, the metal sheaths dropping with a thick metal-to-concrete sound to leave the male completely unencumbered, the tingle of the male’s touch still echoing through my every nerve. The immediate image of the male laying out under me, those dark eyes of his filled with utter devotion of free will, however grudgingly, with a collar of shiny steel filled my mind. And made me harder than I’d been since juicing up on Angel blood.

I could see this male, in a haze of a possible future moment, fighting beside me against the Brotherhood. The same males that, ironically, did not come looking for one of their own. Gripping Gravhe’s thighs and pulling him to the edge of the bed, I lent over him and took his mouth in a heated, messy lip lock as my hands pushed his thighs up and wide. The tip of my hard cock brushed against the underside of his, probing along his rim as I caged the male under me, my hips shunting for a brief moment until finding home and sinking balls deep.

Fangs dig into his lip and tongue as my hips pounded hard into his. I could keep this male, bring him into the fold and use his years of experience among the humans to my advantage in destroying the Brotherhood. My hand slid between us to wrap around his cock, tugging in strokes designed to bring the male as much pleasure as did the idea I could make him fully mine.]

Grahve: The shackles clicked and fell away, the last article of ‘clothing’ I’d been wearing gone to leave me totally bare for the male above. I barely noticed the cage door close behind him, too intent on the feel of his hands as he seized my hips to pull me forward. The kiss was hot and wet, and I battled his tongue with my own even as his cock pressed against me, then into me.

I gasped into his mouth at the intrusion, the hardness of him and the sudden stretch and tear of my body. There was a twinge of pain, then the wash of pleasure as he moved. The relief that ran through me was almost as sweet; the proof that this wasn’t about torture or hurt in the stroke of his hands, the lick of his tongue.

This was a reward, my mind supplied, my eyes locking with Ahrmour’s as he moved inside me, the head of his cock brushing against that bundle of nerves and making me gasp, moan. Without shackles my hands moved to clutch at his back, my nails half biting into the strong wings of his shoulder blades as he rode me harder, faster.

There was another kiss and I tasted blood, his fang nicking my lip. The smell only seemed to heighten the moment, my own length impossibly hard in his hand as he pumped me in time with every thrust. I whimpered as the pressure inside me built toward a crescendo, some pathetic, miserable part of me /grateful/ for the pleasure if it meant there was no pain.

Lash: [The look of adoration, the sounds the male was making under me, was a boost to my ego after the failed night out hunting the Brotherhood. Taking the male, as I often felt the need to, was something I saved for. Other captives that had been housed herein, I had no desire to fuck. Fuck /with/ and torture, yes. But getting this male to bend and break had been easier than I thought, and with the intel he provided earlier, it would make keeping him alive and healthy a benefit I needed to keep.

Breaking from his mouth, my fangs drug a path down the column of his throat, each pounding thrust into the male’s ass cementing my growing plan. The lingering taste of his blood and the raking of his nails down my back fueled everything right now; the need to make him cum, the need to mark him inside and out with bites and my own scent, the need to keep him mine and keep him willingly obeying me was driving every move. Growling darkly, my hand kept steady pace with each impaling punch of my hips, urging the male to come undone beneath me.

Not something I was used to commanding of others, the mental grasp that this male needed the release tickled the knowledge that it would serve to increase the pliability of his willingness. And lock his devotion to me.]

Cum for me, Grahve. [Words purred in a panting growl as I worked the male, my own balls burning and aching from being unaccustomed to holding back and filling my spine with a raw tingling sensation I’d not felt since my transition.]

Grahve: My back bowed off the bed as one hard thrust pushed me closer to the edge, a starburst of pleasure going off that filled me up and had me panting, moaning. This pleasure was so much more exquisite with the knowledge it could have easily been pain, and having known great agony now, great suffering, it seemed fair that this was ecstasy.

As my nails dragged at him, my fingers clutching for purchase, his words penetrated the haze. Ahrmour had given me permission, wanted my release. I looked up into his eyes and saw no guile, no lie, only need. The need to see me satisfied and satiated. The desire for ‘me’.

I stopped holding on, relaxing those last muscles that had clung to self control and kept me from teetering into a climax. Which came with his next thrust, the head of his cock nailing my prostate and launching me into another fucking world.

I cried out, back arching, cock throbbing as thick, hot spurts of cum released over his hand onto my stomach. My body clenched around him, my vision fading as I rode the wave into a bliss I rarely knew any more.

Lash: [The heat of his release, the pulsing jerk of his cock in my hand as he spilled his cum triggered my own barely held-back orgasm. The pace I’d maintained became furious and raw with primal need, the bone jarring slap of skin on skin echoing only slightly louder than the groans, grunts, and the growled curses that colored the air added to the scent of my marking Grahve.

A final driving thrust in, my head tipped back with a roar and my balls released, coating the male deep with my scent. It didn’t matter that I’d not “bonded” with him, he’d smell like me regardless of that ancient act. Chest heaving with each breath, my body oddly trembling with postcoital aftershocks and the occasional hip jerk as the waning waves of pleasure rocked through me. I dropped low to cage the body under me and brushed a faint whisper of a kiss to the male’s mouth and grinned breathlessly.]

I want you to fight by my side.

Grahve: Ahrmour’s release filled me, his body hunched over mine as he slowed and finally stilled inside me. Every breath was a shallow pant as the high faded, my hands lightly stroking at his back in an absent fashion - a small affection that didn’t seem out of place in the moment. The brush of his lips to mine earned a faint smile, my eyes half closed as I basked in the afterglow.

‘Fight by my side…’

The words took a second to register, and my eyes opened fully as they did. I stared up at him, at Ahrmour, only… it wasn’t Ahrmour. And despite the fading glow of the orgasm colouring my view of this tiny caged world, it wasn’t the only other lovers I’d taken since coming here either. It wasn’t Qhuinn and his quick smile, his dual coloured eyes. It wasn’t Crhis and his protectiveness, his sarcasm and humour.

It was Lash. Lash, who’d do anything to hurt them. To end them. Lash, who had ripped away parts of me that were beyond redemption or salvation. Lash, who hurt me just as often if not more than he cared for me. And while I wanted to believe the look in his eyes, the idea that I could stand at his side and never feel his wrath again, I knew it to be a lie.

‘Better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path’? Sure, but that was only if you weren’t leaving others to be consumed in that fiery path as well.

I shocked myself with the fact I wanted to want him. I wanted to help him. But I couldn’t help him hurt them. As much of me was shaped by them as it now was by him.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, and a part of me truly meant it. “But I would rather see myself dead than betray Qhuinn or the others to the fate you have consigned to them.”

Lash: [Grahve’s words sliced through the miazma I’d allowed in so short a time to fill my desire to destroy the Brotherhood, pissing me off instantly. All that had happened in the last few hours faded, all the gratitude I’d felt, the twinges of all the ‘feel-good’ vibes? Vanished in less than a heartbeat.

A deadly growl replaced my gorged, sated state as I gripped the male’s face with both hands, fangs bared in lethal rage, smoky gray eyes locked on his, the trainee’s widened with shock.]

You will be sorry, sorry you can’t watch those you love die by my hand one by one! And to think I had great plans for you...

[The gall this male had to deny what only I could offer him, just to ‘save’ those who couldn’t be put off enough to even organize a search party for the trainee. No skin off my nose, as it were. But for the male below me to flaunt it after all this time? How stupid.

Hand shaking, I ignored the male’s gasp of surprise as the thick musk of his fear perfumed the air, his body beginning to jerk under me as he grabbed my wrists. Nails dug into my flesh the harder I squeezed but I neither felt it nor would I let go had I the inkling. No. This male didn’t want to watch me take down the Brotherhood?

His screams mixed with the scents of sex, blood pungent fear, the skin giving way to the tender tissues underneath the hard pressure of my thumbs. Another idea formed, and my sadistic side took over.]

You don’t want to watch? [The shriek of pain and flailing of the male under me scored points as his eyes bulged, bloodied and messy down the side of his face. Laughter scorched the air as I leaned back, plucking both eyeballs out with a sucking, flesh-tearing sound.]

Now you don’t have to.

#BondedBrothers #BlindedByTheDark

[soothsayerrrr]

have you been re-introduced to cassia parkinson? last we heard, the pureblood was most familiar with timeline one. I don’t recall if they were always a ravenclaw, but I’ve heard the seventh year is still quick-witted, independent, charismatic, and preternatural, self-destructive, mischievous, so that’s familiar. at least she remembers their way around the castle.

hi i’m bailey and welcome to my intro. aka, a dumb modified version of my app. sis literally doesn’t have stats or anything but like here’s her pinterest board again. warning this is kinda messy, just like everything else in my life.

born may 27th, 1960.

sun and moon signs are both gemini. ( a kind of continuous high-voltage runs through you restlessly affecting both your mental and emotional natures. no one can slow you down. you are smart and brilliant, and are always trying to take more than one project at a time to completion. any nervousness means you are not investing your resources wisely. more often than not, you can convince people to do things your way. )

ascendant sign is capricorn. ( you will accept responsibilities as it is in your nature to take challenges; the riskier, the better. hardship and frustration teach the lessons of bending the will to serve a higher purpose. )

midheaven sign is scorpio. ( motivated and not afraid to go after what you want, however you may go too far and exhaust yourself. you need to learn how to deal with personal limits and assist with difficult decisions. )

wand: silver lime, augurey tail feather, swishy, 10 inches. patronus: unable to cast; would be a fox. ( the fox is charismatic and by nature, a trickster. they’re great talkers, making even the worst suggestions sound like the best ideas ever. convincing people to do what they want and make them think it was their idea in the first place is a talent. foxes also have a knack for observing the people around them; this comes in handy for future reference if they need something. )

boggart: acromantula. amortentia: the smell of a beach after a thunderstorm, coffee, a new deck of tarot cards, and butterbeer. familiar: a male toad named mopsus, named after the ancient greek seer.

ever since it became more public knowledge she’s a seer, she’s had a few of her fellow students come to her asking for advice. because she quickly realized that either people claimed to not believe in it, or they found it silly, she would usually tell her ‘customers’ that horrible things would happen if they didn’t do a certain task. be it something for her personally, or in general to make them look foolish. cassia knows she shouldn’t, but it’s too fun to stop --- especially when most of them don’t realize that isn’t quite how seers work.

you’ll always see this bitch with a deck of tarots ready to duel and probably having a bunch of crystals stuffed in the pockets of her robe.

and as for clubs, she’s in slug club and astronomy club!

so ok: all her life, cassia wanted to be the perfect pureblood daughter her family wanted. but unfortunately for her, there was always something off. whether she was too mischievous and energetic, or being silent and staring vacantly, nothing quite fit into the pre-set mold of their society.

things slowly began to change once she began hogwarts. her otherworldly charm only seemed to be nourished, finding odd companionship with some wandering ghosts of the school. but while she had a spark that lured any crowd, overall she preferred to stay close to those who she grew up with. other peers that espoused pureblood ideals, just as she was taught. maybe she wasn’t future stepford wife material, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try.

 however things really changed once she had her first, actual prophecy. it happened in the middle of class — either potions or transfiguration, cassia couldn’t tell you — during her fifth year. aka shit got real!!!! Too Real!!!! right now though, she’s definitely made the obvious progress/transition into accepting her abilities, but her family??? lol yea, not so much.

her mother especially is like, “well NOW we might not find a suitable husband for you!!!!!! who would want This????” and her father’s like GLARING at her from the opposite end of the dinner table when she’s home for holidays and she just kinda wants to scream because LOOK. cassia knows, knows, how they feel about people they see as “different” to them. SHE KNOWS, SHE WAS RAISED AS SUCH. it’s the whole purist mentality yet somehow worse because it’s HER, and they don’t seem to understand that she’s still the same??? just with some... bonuses ( or not, because being a seer isn’t all fun and games and is actually terrifying and mentally/physically exhausting and taxing. but that’s beyond the point. )

however her brothers --- her twin, and one three years older --- seem... well, if she’s honest she hasn’t been able to get a good enough read on her older brother, but she hardly sees him anyway so she doesn’t care THAT much lmao. her twin brother however? god cassia and him were so close growing up, despite how effortlessly he blended in with their society meanwhile she was kinda like... too much or not enough?? so. his opinion definitely matters to her and while she doesn’t know where he OFFICIALLY stands, she’s kinda at the point where, with like many other aspects, does not want to know.

AS FOR OTHER TIMELINES.... oof!!!!! learning about the other timelines somehow made her feel worse about her seer abilities/gotta love a hopeless feeling sinking in and there’s Nothing you can do about it. as just mentioned she doesn’t really LIKE knowing some things and other versions of herself is no different because she can barely keep her shit together in THIS one? like??? her with an actual WAR??????

timeline two cassia stuck with the pureblood/death eater side. she was already so “different” from her family, and it’s sickeningly obvious where the parkinson’s stand, so of course she’s going to justify the awfulness with the fact it’s how they were raised...smh ;/

timeline three cassia would be pretty standard, overall neutral but clearly swaying to the death eaters as an ally, because again she’s not going to abandon everyone she’s known/her family/etc. while she might be self-destructive, cassia definitely shows signs of knowing when to have that seemingly dormant self-preservation.

okay so you know how she doesn’t like knowing certain stuff and all that jazz, and her scorpio midheaven “you need to learn how assist with difficult decisions” shtick? yeah big grief because it’s such a process and she ain’t making ANY. like... growing up in the type of environment she did --- quiet passive aggression and toxicity --- it’s always been easier to bite your tongue. after getting used to the bitterness, it seems to have somethings better left unsaid. no need to cause a scene because it’s more trouble than what it’s worth even though this disgust is eating you up inside? maybe she’ll overcome this one day. maybe.

anddddddd this is kinda all i got rn.

[weirdness-on-the-roof]

critical role episode 48 campaign 2 notes and funny lines post break edit:this has detailed notes on all the stuff that happened later in the episode including physical descriptions near the end. enjoy ya nerds

don’t steal the books from a high powered mage; don’t kill the dude; beau turning into cad; look at beau planning for the future

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is marisha flirting with matt via matt playing yasha and beau flirting with yasha?

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‘tea the international language’ but no earl grey

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wensworth the goblin

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coming from Cad ‘im a fine tea maker’ is kinda a threat tbh

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elf that isn’t white/European??? yay! also really old elves are cool

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beau and cad tag teaming a political chat with a mage this can’t end poorly

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Nott: :beau ruins every situation shes in and is very abrasive

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send the freaking cat!!! why not?? caleb my dude

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god i miss allura and gilmore currently

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fucking fuck don’t lie to the mage beau plz stop this is painful ‘you’re not wrong’ sure blame the ancient sea god

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‘on the verge of returning’ yea no duh you let him out 2/3 of the way so fjord could get a spell

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‘we found a thing’ so smooth and eloquent beau ‘it was presented to us as the happy fun time ball’

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‘butter fingers with magical items’

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beau getting a geography lesson from a very old powerful elven mage

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‘magical geometric orb that has the ability to bend time and space and fate’ which is kept in a hot pink magic bag that happened to ‘fall into [their] lap’

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‘if youre down im down is what im saying... i have a few slots open in my loyalty bank if you’re willing to pay rent’ says the 20 some human who punches things to the centuries old wizard ‘

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liam stress eating

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cad’s hope in the group is heartwarming

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tower metaphors and a conversation!!!

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caleb reading shitty romance novel and nott eating a fish outside a mage’s tower in the morning sunlight in a major city

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caleb takes the rear

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first name drop and a while

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holy shit 200 years of magic using

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cad explaining materialistic nature of the rest of the party to elf dude is hilarious

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teleportation circles?????? in return for access to the sphere!! oh shit thats good

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or candy

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crap. no one has insight checked this dude and they gave him the happy fun ball and made a deal kinda.

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‘how do we prove our loyalty?’ ‘by not fucking me over’ sounds like a good plan

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is this guy just caleb’s patron now on the low idk this is how my head works and he said learn

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“you have a geometric shape that makes babies?” “yea they talked about that”

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fjord just kills the dude

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‘i got banishment on hold just in case’ *cackling laughter*

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i agree with elf dude, him not knowing anything about the dodecha is more concerning than him knowing about it

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ALL THE CITIES FROM CR1 MENTIONED FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! I STILL MISS ALLURA AND GILMORE

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good to know the pink bag protects from divination on this plane but just this one

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jester and the traveler figurine

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cad included the Traveler in the ‘chaotic forces’ i still think the traveler is some kinda arch fey evil things idk its real late here and this is incoherent

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‘well, thats been my morning tea‘ 

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caleb getting additional tour

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good aesthetic for the room tbh

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letting weird people in for morning tea is entertainment is a mood and something i strive to be able to do without getting murdered one day

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so yasha and caleb both have gotten the ‘stay with friends’ chat from a powerful being which is nice. but also the ‘use who you need to’ going to caleb is vaguely concerning

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personalized biscuits [bourbon, cinnamon, lobster, fish and three unknowns]

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‘caleb, what happened in there?’

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cad not believing caleb’s bullshit and opening doors for caleb warms my heart

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‘if this isn’t the death of us, and if not hes a good ally. somethings gonna be the death of us so [yolo]’

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‘you can’t bullshit everyone in this world’

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cad talking about beau telling the truth: ‘you’re not very good at it but you tried

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jester looking out for nott and her home town

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caleb and beau being cute while also giving each other shit is the most sibling like thing

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omg going back to allfield that was so long ago for fucks sake BRYCE my person thank god

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jester had a boy band phase its cannon and i think the girls had a sleepover in jester’s old room. also marion never leaves the hotel. THE RUBY NECKLACE MY HEART AND THE HONEY AWWWWW

‘the army of men and women and inbetween that will do as i want them to’ god i adore her being protective of jester

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also the fact matt makes such a good mom why is he like this

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travel time!!!! ‘roll for initiative’-tal

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how does matt keep these notes so organized and remember all the npc names

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the ranger/beast master in Laura is coming out with nugget

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caleb is a devout cat person and jester is the definition of a dog person

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nott refining oil on a magical moving cart, while jester reads a romance novel and trains a dog,

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Dyren- Beau’s roommate at colbot souls; ‘taught beau lots of really cool things’ got sent to a warfront. shaved head, dark clothes, buff b/c ‘been workin out’, ‘do you love her?’ they had ‘good times’, then literal booty call, and dropping locations, Dyren was in Bladegarden. ‘fierce eyebrows, pointed nose’

                    OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES

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Vandren info drop to Fjord ‘he was making amends’

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Dyren responded and was hurt in Bladegarden but is safe. Beau looked immediately worried and happy about jester��s imput [’sounded way into you’]

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empire kids chat and caleb admitting insecurities about powerful people and being scared about the consequences of his actions and the group’s actions. caleb is scared about being forced to leave for safety and being ‘flayed alive’. my thoughts are he would leave if he became a threat to the others by being there or vise versa. trent would extort that b/c hes a dick

“caleb, unfortunately, you don’t get to choose who cares for you” you’re fucking correct Beau

“the problem with friends is that you have to care for them”

walks away “wow cool caleb! see- jester thinks you’re cool because shes your fucking friend!”

me too Tal “everything i like about those two characters in one conversation”

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5 years since Caleb left Trent and crew ie had a nervous breakdown

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gustav left town after being freed and trostenwald now has a WV accent that is too familiar

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100 extra soldiers in allfield. bryce is still up and kicking and wonderful. stuff ‘got this far east [quickly]’. the attacks came from underground apparently so fuck. the fields were burned, building destroyed a bit then they [Xhorhasians] left

“good thing is they’ve already been attacked so lightning doesn’t strike twice” oof thanks bryce

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beau just dead ass asking for illegal writing statements

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fjord having a thank u jesus bryce moment

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jester giving cad a pretty present is ‘so exciting’ and precious

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Cad not knowing cookbooks were a thing!!! and not being utterly literate enough to understand it

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wtf happened to liam’s voice in the ‘main export is oysters’ thing

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FELDERWEN!!!!!

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a dozen squads of 50 ppl each patrolling felderwen area so rippppp

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Nott knows where the halfing’s house is.... interesting... and is heavily drinking

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BLUE FLASH

elven woman in fine clothes of green and black ----lady vest durogna the arch mage of antiquity serboros assembly

a male figure in deep blue robes, older pale elf, fine clothes, the flash came from him----- martinette luden’th de____ arch mage of domestic protection

CALEB KNOWS THEM BOTH FROM THE ACADEMY AHHHHHH

he just lays flat and hides in the cart internally: ‘nopenopenopenope’

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several burned buildings, a warehouse, an inn, apothecary and several houses

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ohhhh shit the halfling was the owner of the apothecary and nott was looking for the shit she had been sending back this whole adventure....... im sad now that was confirmed

havent found a body of yeza

luke is yeza’s son at old edith’s house

            halflings only produce halflings according to something i read at some point but forget where sooooooooo

shattered vials and materials and house stuff

CHILDREN'S TOYS

locked basement which nott knows of?? Nott is anxious and impatient when the door doesn’t open. jester fails, yasha rages and at a 19 and doesn’t break the door. ‘it wasn’t [trapped]’ but dispel magic worked to open it.

a 15′x15′ room, tossed ‘not like you remember’ to nott, a 2x3 iron chest. a single chair in the center of the room. definitely a struggle with heavy impacts and blade scratched on wall

             nott was the torturer from the goblin tribe

chair was placed in the spot after the struggle

this was where he [yeza] kept chemicals according to nott

poisoned iron locked box (dull black glass)  inside a retractable silver tripod to hold something atop it, 3 empty vials 1 full one with a liquid/gas fog like dull colored thing, a pile of destroyed notes [two pieces of still legible paper which have props]

            dunamous field, causes ppl slow to be slower or faster, ‘captured crin operatives’ dunaments and dunamacy, origon gliffs, exist outside established schools of magic, theory in deeply rooted in arcana taken for granted, rooted in _____ town, 12-16 months to refine, word has found me that trent’s kiddos have knacks for this things, dreams are thrilling

well shittttt

            crin on battle fields, ‘breaking fields of fate, fuck the raven queen

SHIIIIIT

a piece of dunemous

dodecha goes in tripod according to beau

chair facing chest

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cricks did this apparently

a little under 100 crowns guard killed, 4 civilians burned

soldiers just ‘slowed down’ 

left via tunnels and collapsed them behind them

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nott dont be a bitch and don’t get mad at caleb and call them ‘his people’

-------

cad picks up caleb and ‘youre not at fault here, youre the solution here. don’t let her anger... its not about you’

my HEART

-------

the chest is too big for the haver sack but fits in lorenzo’s bag of holding

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people have entered and exited since the attack and left the chair and stuff

-------

lots ‘o chairs

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nott needs to see ledith and uke (?) and not flip the fuck out

‘humble hobble’

nott looked like halfling plump face, braids, tan skin

edith- human older, grey hair, beady eyes, ever present smile like face

          LUKE IS HER SON!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CANNON

         *edit- rewatching this and seeing ever one’s faces “wheres my son?!” particularly laura/liam/travis just hurt. liam just looked up after a second and travis did his face he does and laura just stiffened and eyes and hand to face. caleb/liam who knows just hugs himself the rest of the convo. marisha is note taking and fuck the video off now

about 5 yrs old, blue eyes, tan/light brown skin, halfling

gave him the doll of the king

IM GONNA CRY NOW BYE

‘HES PROABLY DEAD NOW TOO LIKE I THOUGHT YOU WER’

yenza locks him away when ‘the mean lady comes by’

mean lady has pointy ears and comes often, luke was kept in room, luke was pushed out of the house and told to go somewhere safe so he ran to edith’s house and ‘everything was on fire’

‘im not strong enough to come back yet but know that [im stll thinking of you and i send things] and i hope dad sends them to you.“ fuck my heart

“in my heart i think he is” “well don’t die”

-------

the elves are gong to the ruins of yenza’s house

-------

marisha looked so betrayed

tal ‘i was waiting for the riegel shoe to drop’

WOW

HEY CALEB- WOOOW

-------

we’ll pick up hiiiere

fuck you sam and matt and everything abou this my heart is just FUCKKK

ummm so enjoy the frantic poorly taken notes <3

[tamsythepansy]

VOY: “Workforce”, the transest Star Trek episode ever

So. There’s a two-part episode of Star Trek: Voyager (“Workforce”) in which the crew all find themselves living out new lives as vaguely Fordist industrial workers on a planet called Quarra, all memory of their real lives having been artificially suppressed.

Imagine my surprise when, rewatching it years later, the bogus diagnosis they’re given as their memories start to resurface is...

...which also happens to be exactly what my partners have been reminding me for the last two months (bless them). I giggled.

Lo and behold, it happens to Tuvok as well:

Now, I get that it was the turn of the millennium and this hadn’t really entered the lexicon yet, but... this is just the tip of the iceberg. Watch along with me and see how it all plays out:

Tuvok, of course, is the first to experience memories of his real life breaking through the facade, has a panic attack, and is hospitalized:

Well, if this isn’t relatable to multitudes of trans and non-binary Star Trek fans, I don’t know what is. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Of course, the ‘treatment’ for Dysphoria Syndrome involves suppressing the offending memory engrams, so the patient can peacefully return to being a cog in the cisheteronormative machine Quarran power distribution facility (read what you will into that). As the expert on Dysphoria Syndrome himself later puts it:

Sounds like an allegory for LGBTQ conversion therapy to me, I mean, what?

Anyway, Seven realizes that Tuvok might be on to something, and heads to the mental health clinic to get a gender assessment investigate:

Stepping into the realm of the purely serious for a moment, I *have* sort of read Seven’s character arc as a plausible trans allegory, and it’s pretty compelling: having her true identity suppressed at an early age, and finally being forced to confront it in adulthood; processing layers upon layers of trauma just to function as an individual; being rehabilitated by a circle of strong, compassionate women, each with their own identity issues (plus the medical wizardry, overeager cisheteronormative life coaching, and starry-eyed / vaguely inappropriate crushing of The Doctor, I guess, so yeah); struggling to reclaim her human (/feminine) sense of self even while the effects of her Borg (/patriarchal) upbringing have thoroughly warped her thoughts (even as they continue to give her superhuman resilience and insight). I’m sure there’s even a comparison to be drawn to transfeminine desirability politics — Seven is continually presented both as an extremely conventionally attractive human *and* as a mysterious cyborg whose embodiment and manner communicates an often-threatening sense of Otherness — but I’ll leave that for a future discourse. I’m honestly spitballing a bit with all of this, but to see it so explicitly referenced, intentionally or not, is quite something.

So, Seven asks the obvious question, and it turns out that, while being trans is undoubtedly a Real Thing, the specifics are... inconclusive:

Let’s take a moment to celebrate the fact that we’re finally starting to see gender doctors who actually understand us in all our nuance, because...

...we already know this is bad news. (Paging Dr. Harry Benjamin.)

Anyway, the compassionate gender doctor goes to the conversion therapy doctor to see what’s up, because clearly something over at the power plant is turning people trans:

One important takeaway from this story is “never walk away and leave your work computer unlocked”:

I get it, though! On a planet ostensibly without Tumblr or OKCupid, trans community is just really, really hard to find. 🤷🏻‍♀️

The compassionate gender doctor soon notices a pattern:

...mm hmm, it all started when a genderqueer person sneezed in the employee locker room, and somehow the conversion therapy doctor wound up with his hands full as everybody in the office came down with a bad case of The Trans.

Finally, the compassionate gender doctor is determined to be just a little bit too sympathetic to these gender deviants, and the now-canonically trans but still awesome at passing Seven of Nine comes to the rescue:

As if this weren’t trans enough...

...check out the subplot featuring Jaffen, a co-worker with whom Captain Janeway has an adorable but bittersweet whirlwind relationship. Though Jaffen presents as male and uses he/him pronouns, THIS TOTALLY HAPPENS, and its implications are never made clear:

Though this is set up as the punchline of a “your father” joke, Jaffen isn’t just fucking around here. Tuvok knows what’s up, and proceeds to Vulcan-splain the joke right back to him:

Which begs the question, how do Norvalians procreate, anyway? Are they clones, like the Vorta? Do they deposit their genetic material into pods, like the J’naii? Do they pick up ready-made offspring, like the Kobali? Whatever the intent is, it has serious implications for whatever kind of relationship he and Janeway would have (like, it’s not on the cisheteronormative trajectory of sex and babies, at the very least). So, bear with me for a moment, because this is my honest-to-goodness fan theory: 

(okay, I admit I just had that image lying around, and this seemed like as good a moment as any to use it.)

What if Norvalians reproduce parthenogenetically, leaving the entire need for a biological “father” out of the equation?

This could mean one of two things: as with terrestrial Komodo dragons (I think), parthenogenesis happens but binary sexual reproduction is still an option (which honestly doesn’t seem like the most likely explanation, given the way Jaffen and Tuvok both frame it), *or*, as with terrestrial whiptail lizards, parthenogenesis is the default, and male (i.e., sperm-producing) offspring are extremely rare and/or usually infertile.

So yeah, okay, they reproduce parthenogenetically, Jaffen is a rare male and is probably infertile, and therefore the Jaffen/Janeway relationship is more about companionship and cooperation than sex and babies. I’m fine with that, and I actually find it quite heartwarming.

But, with that in mind, do we need to assume that Jaffen is male, whatever that means for his species? After all, whiptail lizards engage in female/female courtship behaviour, which somehow makes them more fecund — and remember, it’s the Delta Quadrant; we’ve seen enough weird sex shit by Season 7 (cf. “Elogium”, “Favorite Son”, “The Disease”, “Ashes to Ashes”, off the top of my head) that we can reasonably conclude that all bets are off. 

My interpretation? Jaffen is an honest, gallant, leather-waistcoat-rocking, he/him pronoun-using, parthenogenetic Space Butch. Maybe I’ve spent too much time on Sapphic Star Trek Tumblr, or have finally disappeared up my own genderqueer ass, but I’m convinced it’s the simplest explanation that’s congruent with the facts.

[I just spent a bunch of time trying to find the “Captain Janeway is a closet lesbian, change my mind” meme, but no dice.]

Anyway, if you’ve made it this far, it’s time for me to deliver on the non-binary trans lesbian Star Trek shitposting that I’m usually all about. Having been closeted for a long time, I know a thing or two about relationships that seem straight on the surface but are actually hella queer under the hood, so to speak. Just look at these two u-hauling it on the third date (it’s adorable!):

This also seems really gay for some reason:

And, at the end of the day, he’s a good ally:

Watch the whole episode for the obligatory Sad Lesbian Ending.

The icing on this three-tiered Tholian gay wedding cake

...yup.

[Thanks to Em for subtly egging me on (ha) and Bry for putting up with me procrastinating all night. Love you both.]

[the-dreamer-traveller]

Final Fantasy X: The Faded

Continuing with the crowd-sensationalizing popular series of Final Fantasy, this is a dream video game (or a dream focusing on other) within a dream, which makes it as bizarre as it sounds to be. This is “The Faded”, a Final Fantasy game that focuses on Spira, the setting of Final Fantasy X. However, it bills itself as an “Interquel” between the main X and X-2, which is already even more bizarre because such materials differ themselves in terms of chronological events that adding The Faded between it just creates even more plot holes and contradictions that would make Kingdom Hearts blush.

Unless it all sets place within the Farplane, then that is at least agreeable.

Based on what I can gather from watching on the video, here is the plot of the entire dream video game/dream story: Sometime after the events of Final Fantasy X… or whatever… but right before the events of Final Fantasy X-2, the crew were transported into a yet unnamed region other than the main continent in Spira, where they discover that they are not alone and have more people in it. Led by Wakka (lol, wut I know, right?), the group are traveling around the continent with their huge armies of New Yevon soldiers, which would probably been sent by Yuna or someone. Together with a band of young, aspiring soldiers and mages, they are going through the country and checking up with their towns and cities, while keeping a mysterious and evil cult at bay from summoning their dark gods, which can cause the end of their world as they would know, along with some of their angels, who have wings in their arms and wrists, wears flowing clothes made of either silk or their feathers and screams like banshees after busting out of a womb or egg.

Despite that this is going to be a train wreck full of plot holes, inconsistent time lines, occasional flanderizations, overpowered characters and bizarre characterizations, this particular dream video game is NOT a comedic parody dream game, but is instead an aggressive, HOLY SHIT and dark one that is in par with, if not oversteps, Drakengard, one of the darkest fantasy video games in the industry!

o----------------------------------------------------------------------o

Setting within the unnamed continent, Wakka and co. are in the plains, with several of the army are within this certain place to set up their camp. Wakka and co. are in a platform high in the air, which is described as to be this world’s equivalent to a blimp; a seashell-shaped platform with spiked magitek ringed propellers that surrounds a large chunk of pseudo-land, while the area where it is standable is lightly guarded with light golden fence. There is no shelter for it and is fairly light weight, and it is pretty much OSHA’s worse nightmare, made even worse as it is also an acrophobic’s hell, because the platform is several hundred feet away from the ground, while it is floating above them.

Wakka and co., along with several dozens of New Yevon soldiers, are standing on top of it, looking through the horizon. Honestly, watching this particular scene just makes me squeamish, because of the various OSHA violations that this scene commits, and it also follows a ridiculous sequence that made me think that it is something of a parody.

Just as Wakka and co. are passing through, a thunderstorm happens exclusively in the atmosphere, causing only a darkened area in the land below. Because of this, the whole platform begins to rock and shake violently, causing everyone to be thrown out of their balance. The unluckiest are the mooks, as 90% of all of them, due to over boarding the platform, are thrown out of the OSHA-violating blimp platform and are falling to the ground.

This is where it gets ridiculous, along with added slow motions, dramatic music and incredibly improbable physics.

The troops below, which consists of regular footmen, Chocobo riders and mages, begin to notice of the falling troops and are acting fast to save them. In the manner similar to ass pull or highly unrealistic way of incorporating science, the Chocobo riders begin to command their Chocobos to fly above them to rescue, something that is impossible due to their actual nature, weight and small wings. Deliberately ignoring with the fact that they are full set in armor, the Chocobo riders manage to catch some of them, including a child soldier that is present for some reason. By catching with them in their Chocobos, they manage to save them before they become bloody red chunky salsas on the ground. How and why it happens made me think that this is some sort of a parody Square Enix is making.

In the next scene, it features Wakka grabbing the hands of a mook who is about to fall… except that it is followed by a series of other mooks who are also grabbing his legs, and it even reaches down to the ground below them. Wakka tells him that he’ll tries to save them, but the mook said to him not to and gives some sort of cheesy lines that made me cringe.

“You don’t have to, save yourself, for you are the light of our future.”

Afterwards, he let go of Wakka’s hands and he lets out an anguish no… while I am looking at them slowly folding down in half as if they are made of paper.

At this part, my jaw only drops due to its sheer ridiculousness that the scene carries itself, being so melodramatic but the way the scene is executed is so poor it left me in stunned silence due to the awkwardness of the scene.

As the ridiculously long line of hanging soldiers begin to fold and fall down, some of them loss grip and fall down, all of it down in dramatic effect. Some of their swords also fall down and ended up killing some of the falling soldiers by the sharp edges stabbing them, so the fall didn’t much kill them. Some of them that hit the ground just… turned bloody with their missing limbs appearing next to them, as if they are just replaced with cadaver textures and models along with the missing limbs. Blood also appears, but it looks like a tomato stain on the floor. Everyone acts so melodramatic and over the top it is basically insane.

And up to this day when I am awake, I still think that it is crazy.

Then suddenly, one of the main playable cast suddenly sprout wings in their arms and back, effectively turning into one of those winged humanoids that are their enemies. Fortunately, it is one of those short-haired brunettes who is an ally to them, so they are most fortunate. Then she jumps from the platform and sprouts a scorpion tail coming from her ass and I am not sure if I see or describe it correctly, but that is how I accurately remember it.

I think I’m going to take some therapeutic eating once this is done.

Once she jumps off, she quickly uses her super sense powers that are not really explained well and starts flowing to a random direction, where the rest of Wakka and co. and army begin to start following her. She’s ridiculously fast in flying, but so was everyone else in running and galloping. The army were quick enough to follow her and have no time to wonder why she grows wings on her arms, a scorpion tail on her ass and starts flying randomly.

The countryside soon takes an interesting turn in its design, which slowly features some trees, slightly more varied vegetation and some crops. There are also clusters of towns in the area, each of them covering several kilometers around a church, which serves as their town center. Thing is that there is a church, stylized as a cathedral, in every single town in the area, no matter how close these towns were. It turns out to be part of the kingdom of whatever region we are in, and the army is sent wandering around to protect it from outside threats.

What outside threats, you may ask? Well, we can begin on how they were introduced.

Distorted Latin-like Gregorian chants, sung by deep male vocals but also slightly distorted with a faint echo and chamber effect, can be heard. They sound off and unsettling, probably because of the vocals because it feels so uncanny that it is less of a heavenly choir and more of a mock demonic choir that tries to copy a heavenly choir but ends up unsettling. This is the arrival of the malevolent mysterious gods and their agents, as the distorted nature of the song can sometimes serve as their arrival call or something to wrap the minds of weak-willed mortals.

And then it turns out that these cursed chants are found in churches of each town.

So, we are going to smash in and kill the ones who are chanting with it. Relatively simple and easy in their eyes, extremely controversial in some religious people’s eyes.

While they are busy fighting and slashing the cultists and their chanters, some of them are quite busy taking over towns. It turns out that the chanting also serves as a summoning ritual, which is used to summon one of those creepy winged screaming bastards which would only be successful if it takes took long for our army to take them down. Some of the towns are relatively fine, as they manage to keep their pseudo-Italian architecture and buildings intact. Other towns are not so lucky, as they are forcibly invaded by the cults, with desiccated corpses of civilians, guards and soldiers gather in heaps while the undead, summoned by the cultists, are shambling around. Homes and buildings are on fire, while the church/main hub remains intact for the cultists to use.

Wakka and co., the army and the winged girl are sent here to curbstomp the cultists from causing too much permanent damage, as summoning them can cause the end of the world as they would know.

And all I am left as I woke up is just confusion of the overall nature of the dream video game.

[reconditarmonia]

Dear Every Woman Writer

Hello, lovely writer!

I’m reconditarmonia here and on AO3 (and have been since LJ days, but my LJ is locked down and I only have a DW to see locked things).

General likes:

– Relationships that aren’t built on romance or attraction. They can be romantic or sexual as well, but my favorite ships are all ones where it would still be interesting or compelling if the romantic component never materialized.

– Loyalty kink, whether commander-subordinate or comrades-in-arms, and the trust associated with it. Sometimes-but-not-always relatedly, idealism. I guess the two combined might be, in general, the idea of nobility of character and what that means.

– Heists, or other stories where there’s a lot of planning and then we see how the plan goes.

– Femslash, complicated or intense relationships between women, and female-centric gen. Women doing “male” stuff.

– Stories whose emotional climax or resolution isn’t the sex scene, if there is one.

– Uniforms/costumes/clothing.

– Stories, history, and performance. What gets told and how, what doesn’t get told or written down, behavior in a society where everyone’s consuming media and aware of its tropes, how people create their personas and script their own lines.

– Eucatastrophe.

General DNW: rape/dubcon, torture, other creative gore; unrequested AUs, including “same setting, different rules” AUs such as soulmates/soulbonds; PWP; food sex.

—

Fandom: Far from the Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy

Characters/Groups: Bathsheba Everdene

One thing that always sticks in my mind about this novel is the way Hardy calls Bathsheba “the young farmer” just as he refers to the men as farmers - which, just saying, is more than most people writing about this story can do - and so, that being the case, what I’m most interested in is something about Bathsheba as farmer. One day in the life or four seasons in the life or five plantings/harvests in the life, or pseudo-academic fic about a case study of a woman farmer in the Victorian era, or a conflict between the farm and nature that Bathsheba has to decide how to solve.

Feel free to bring in other characters if it suits what you’re trying to do, but what I’m really looking for is a focus on Bathsheba’s work, determination, and process of learning. I’d also love to read something like a merchant ship AU (as the first alternate setting that came to mind where it would be not exactly the done thing for her to captain her inherited ship and make commercial decisions herself - although I do have to point out that contrary to popular belief, there were a lot of women on shipboard in the age of sail, may this be useful - but also where nature and luck/fate are as influential as they are in the original setting), or something in which the land, superstition, and ritual were more overtly magical.

—

Fandom: Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett

Characters/Groups: Polly "Ozzer" Perks & Jack Jackrum, Polly Perks & Maladict, Magda "Tonker" Halter & Tilda "Lofty" Tewt, Polly "Ozzer" Perks, Alice "Wazzer" Goom, Jack Jackrum, Mildred Froc

Give me all the loyalty kink for this fandom. Characters rescuing each other from peril, risking their reputation or position or ethics to defend each other, accomplishing the impossible or sacrificing things without even thinking twice because one trusts the other’s orders or judgment. Or A not going off the leash or into danger to defend B because B said not to, to protect A’s conscience or life or reputation. Can be romantic or platonic - I ship Polly/Mal and Tonker/Lofty, but I would also be delighted with Polly&Jackrum, Wazzer&Polly, or other non-romantic twosomes or moresomes in situations of loyalty and trust. Maybe Polly sends Mal on a dangerous mission, or Tonker is captured after she and Lofty burn down another place where women and girls are being abused, or Polly protects Jackrum’s secret/s from someone who could reveal them, or Wazzer ends up in the field again with the general’s retinue and Polly and Mal rescue her from danger (or vice versa!!). What strengths or sacrifices do they have at their disposal for each other?

Pratchett-esque voices would be great. He’s really, really good at sucker-punching the reader with sincerity in an overall satiric mode, and I think that style lends itself well to this sort of thing.

I’m not going to lie, Polly is my fave. I like that this could have been a generic coming-of-age or women-in-war story, where the protagonist learns that she’s brave or worthwhile and then the crisis is past, but instead Polly learns that she’s a cunning bastard and a hell of a sergeant, and being a one-off hero in a country that’s at peace and making slow social progress isn’t good enough for her. That said, just because I’m better able to articulate what I like about Polly doesn’t mean I’d be less excited for fic about anyone else! And I know that we might have matched on single characters, rather than groups, and that’s just fine. I think that’s something I’d want to explore for any of the characters who enlist in the course of the story - what are these women good at? What lets them fulfill their potential? What do they want when their hand isn’t being forced? I guess that for most of the regiment this would be post-canon and for Jackrum or Froc it’d be backstory. How’d Jackrum go from enlisting for Reasons to being the career sergeant of canon? What’s Froc’s relationship to the Duchess been like over the years, as someone who met her in person?

If you’re going the Polly/Mal route, I also love ludicrous levels of sexual tension in a military context (I think it’s the unavoidable proximity + the presence of others making it hard to act on it).

Fandom-specific DNW: vampire romance tropes (such as turning and/or immortality) as focus; non-female pronouns/headcanons.

–

Fandom: Original Work

Characters: Commissioned Officer & Non-Commissioned Officer, Female Re-Enactor Playing Male Soldier & Female Re-Enactor Playing Woman, Chaotic good Berserker & Officer she's absolutely loyal to, Crossdressing Fugitive Princess

Um, so, I’ve never requested original work before, but these are...certainly some options that play well with my general likes. Something that I also notice across these requests, other than the fact that most of them are military-related or otherwise have to do with clothing and/or women doing “man” stuff, is that there are a lot of options for exploring how characters with different skillsets and/or values play together. When there’s a problem to solve, especially in a high-risk and high-emotion situation, what happens when they don’t agree on what to do?

As far as setting goes, I think I’d been envisioning the CO & NCO and Berserker & Officer as taking place in a setting that’s removed from us in some way - whether that’s a fictionalized version of a historic military where women can be soldiers, actual historic settings where both are cross-dressing as men, total fantasy settings or future space settings. Likewise I imagine the Fugitive Princess might work better in a fictional or historical setting. The re-enactor pairing could be in our real present day in a way that might not work for the others, but it could equally well be future people or fantasy people!

Romance between any of these pairs, or between the Crossdressing Fugitive Princess and a female character - whether a rival or tyrant she’s a fugitive from, an old ally, someone new she meets while in disguise - is lovely :D (I neglected to officially DNW this so I suppose I could be screwed, but I don’t want het for these. I’m also less interested in, like, orc or goblin characters if you write a fantasy setting, but I didn’t think to DNW that either. :|)

–

Fandom: Simoun (Anime)

Characters: Neviril, Aaeru & Neviril, Paraietta, Rodoreamon, Mamiina

Simoun somehow ended up being a really weirdly meaningful show to me. I loved how all these women got to be flawed and fucked-up, noble and loyal. How, in the mold of all my favorite epic shoujo anime, it starts off beautiful and fine and then Shit Gets Very Real and that’s actually one of the themes of the show - we had a little debate on FFA as to whether or not Simoun was a military canon, and the fact that circumstances have remade a team of priestesses in fancy quarters and magic flying machines who are there to pray to God, put off their choice of sex, use their talents, maintain or claw their way into a social position, into a military force involved in a war - that’s an idea that the characters themselves struggle with in the show. (Neviril’s scene in the hearing is one of my favorites.) How everyone gets character development, in the sense of learning and changing, and even what seem like annoying mandatory straight subplots actually end up serving that thematic or character development, to say nothing of the more focal relationships between the leads (not just Neviril and Aeru, but also Mamiina and Rodoreamon, Neviril and Paraietta…)

I’d really like to read a fic where an individual character’s development or two characters’ relationship is similarly tied in to plot developments; it doesn’t have to be a plotty fic as such, but I was very interested in the way the developments of the war and the pilots/priestesses’ actions in it precipitated changes in their relationships. So how might Neviril and Aeru’s relationship develop in the other world (what are they doing?), or Mamiina and Rodoreamon’s on the Messis when they’re not the narrative focus before Mamiina’s last mission and the braid thing? (Or if this is more your speed, dig into that and see how a character grows or the relationship between characters develops when that’s not being moved along by outside events in the same way, especially if they’re aware of that being an issue. When Neviril and Aeru are outside the normal flow of time, or Paraietta ends up a civilian, for example.) I’m also interested in all the permutations of loyalty we see in the show - like loyalty to a position over loyalty to a side (as with the Plumbish priestesses’ siding with our Sibyllae), loyalty that develops before liking or friendship, the devoted loyalty to Neviril. I like the show’s military themes despite its magical-girl visuals. I think this is also a canon where it would make sense for sexual first times to be part of a fic - what does that mean for the characters you choose?

I should also say that due to all the magic and timespace warping in the show, I am more than okay with post-canon fic that gets characters back together who were separated by canon, if that’s what you want. You can resurrect Mamiina, or have Neviril and Aeru visit the main reality/timeline again. Or play with timespace even more - time loop fic?

[httphopewrld]

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a) sneak peek!!!

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and fuck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slow-burn fluff, some angst, and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I’ve written, and there’s more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU’RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS.

Word Count: more than 10,000 (not finished yet)

A/N: Happy birthday J-Hope! Although the fic won’t be released today, or tomorrow, on his birthday, it will be out next Friday (February 26). Please let me know in the comments if you wanted to be included in the taglist, and what you think!

Taglist: @kirbykook @kleritata @taestannie @jenotation @hemmos-obrien​ @zeharilisharaban @speed-of-wind 

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel, said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company’s items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while you managed the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. “Fantastic. Thank you. That’ll be all for now. Please check on West if he needs anything.” You requested. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show’s theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada’s landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, “Because you’re here all the time!” You backed back to her. “Listen, you’re the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense.” Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. “Fuck,” you cursed, taking your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you. The measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. “Wow look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. “The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won’t look good if they don’t fit the models.” You shook your head. “Maybe it’s just tougher to design clothes for different bodies, genders, and colours. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that.” Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and then finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

[iainwrites]

The Rise of Skywalker Likes and Dislikes

This is going to talk very bluntly and blatantly about things that happened in the movie.  So if you’ve been holding off on seeing it, here’s your warning.  Or if you don’t want to read someone criticizing something you enjoyed.  Skip past everything.

Likes:

-Finn at the beginning.  It’s nice to see his character growth from oblivious and try-to-hard former Stormtrooper, to still a little blundering Resistance fighter but still shows he’s capable, to a man confident in himself/in himself/in his friends and allies.

-When Chebacca learns of Leia’s death.  That’s the look of someone who has lost their oldest friends and don’t even have the strength to be angry.  There’s just loss.  THAT is one of the most powerful moments in this whole movie.

-Fine.  Ben’s “Okay bitches.  Now we can do this.” shrug before carving through the Knights is a great bit of physical acting and (I guess) comedy.

-The new main trio meet at the end and… hug.  No kissing.  No pairing off.  Three people who just survived a war and are happy that each is still alive.  Especially Finn.  This is his family and they’re okay.  Not everything has to end with hook-ups or resolved love triangles.  

Dislikes and Opinions:

-Palpatine.  Why?  He did his bit in the prequels, died in the OT, had no bearing in either TFA or TLJ.  So why bring him back now?

-What was the point of Rose in this?  She gets limited screen-time and doesn’t move the plot along.  The movie could have used this as a means to continue its slow show of representation, but apparently that’s a bridge too far.  But we did get Naomi Ackie as a supporting character of color with screentime and lines?  So we… traded?  Maintained?

-The fuck was with that Finn “I have something to tell you” line?  There was no lead in from any of the prior movies at all.  And no, it doesn’t count if it was revealed in the novelisation of either of the previous films.

-So Rey can sense Chewie is on a ship… but can’t tell that he’s on a different ship than the one she blows up?  Or that he’s not on the ship that she’s telekinetically fighting over?

-D-O is cute factor and nothing more or better.  Add onto that: Babu was there for cute factor.  And people shit on Jar Jar (me included) because he was written as something to entertain children.

-Rey is a Palpatine.  Why was that a choice that was made?  Why does she have to be related to anyone pre-existing in the Star Wars canon?  And why did things have to be explained not in the movie, but in tweets, interviews, the novelisation, etc?  Like the fact that Rey is a Palpatine.  Movie made you think that one of her parents was Sheev’s child, right?  Which one?  Sorry, didn’t tell us.  Oh, and it was her father, by the way.  Oh, and he wasn’t Palpatine’s child; he was actually a failed clone of Palpatine.  And that’s just one part.

-How does the blade work in the grand scheme of things?  Was it made after the destruction of the Death Star (because how else would it be able to line up so well with the wreckage)?  Who made it?  Why didn’t they pillage Palpatin’s hidden room of important shit?  Why didn’t they pass it on immediately to Kylo if he’s the second coming of Vader?

-Leia’s death.  Yes, all they had was archival footage.  So you mean to tell me that they couldn’t have done anything with that miraculous CGI technology to create a facial/vocal facsimile?  That they had no point of reference of ever doing that?  That there was absolutely no budget?  Or that rewrites were an impossible thing?  Because “Leia lays down, dies, and gives her son a moment to pause and get stabbed” isn’t doing right by Carrie Fisher or respecting her legacy.  That’s “Well, this is what we have.  Guess all we can do is use only what we have to make something and not put any more effort into it.”

-”We have no source material!” Except the whole “Emperor trying to find a new body” thing was done in Dark Empire.  As was the fact that the Emperor we saw was a clone that decayed rapidly without a Force-strong host.  And the fleet of ships to turn the tide of things was done with the Katana Fleet.  And Force Heal has been done in games like the GBA version of Revenge of the Sith.  And and and.

-Han Solo forgives his son!  Except it’s not Han, or a Force Ghost of Han (because Han wasn’t Force sensitive or trained to become self aware in the Cosmic Force after he died because that’s the explanation that they’ve been establishing in the Clone Wars TV series since the end of Season 6), but a figment of Ben’s imagination.  So Ben imagined that his father forgave him for murdering him.  … That’s not how it works.  If you’re imagining your murder victim forgiving you, there’s probably some deep psychological shit to deal with.

-People have talked about it, so I’ll hop on the train: how in the hell did Lando travel quickly enough to get that many ships when a distress call put out by Leia herself couldn’t shift asses?  How can he cover that much area, gather all those ships, then get through the mists or whatever the shit surround Exogal when one of those tracking beacon/map thingies have been set up as the only way a ship can travel through?

-For everything that Abrams did to negate TLJ, Palpatine’s monologue of Rey’s actions is very similar to Snoke’s monologue of Ren’s actions.  Down to the “HAHA PSYCH!” moment.

-The Knights of Ren are just a shit-show.  The name sounds cool, though, right!  Aaannnddd they’re killed off without a single line said or them proving to be any sort of threat representative of their “feared” name.

-Here’s something: when all the past Jedi are talking to Rey, you’re told who the male voices belong to (including stuff like Young Obi-Wan and Kanan).  But you only get Female Jedi 1 and Female Jedi 2.  That’s kind of fucked up and sexist, right?

-They set up Rey’s anger throughout the trilogy as being her path to the Dark Side (going as far to show what she could be like if she gives into those darker urges)... and never really do anything to resolve it.

-They REALLY lean into the idea that Finn is Force sensitive in this movie, don’t they?  Despite no evidence of it in any other movie.

-The random scene of just revived Rey grasping Ben’s hand and the frames drop (maybe that’s just my copy, but it's still a standout).  If it’s something everyone gets… then why the hell is something that glaring still in the movie.

-The kiss.  The novelisation said that the kiss was one of “gratitude,” but seriously?  Rogue One had a moment of gratitude where Jyn and Cassian are together and they… hug.  That’s it.  Piss off with your gratitude; there was a kiss because this movie substitutes sense with forced fanservice and they knew that people wanted to see Rey and Kylo together at some point.  Just like they likely kept Rose out of the movie because people gave Kelly Marie Tran shit.  Like that could have made the movie even possibly worse.

-Ben dies and fades away… and Leia’s body fades away at the same time.  Even though she’s been dead for a day+ at this point.  Because… she connected her spirit to her son?  See, that’s something I pulled completely out of thin air, but wouldn’t it be nice if that was the truth and the movie actually explained that was what happened instead of just giving random ass coincidences?

-Rey Skywalker.  Why does she have to be Rey Anybody?  There could have been such a positive spin to what she said earlier in the movie.  “Just Rey.”  Have her say it with pride and ownership now.  She’s her own person, unburdened by the names of those who have gone before.  She doesn’t have any name to live up to.

-Fuck you for your obvious, blatant and unecessary fanservice and self pleasing imagery where the twin suns are arranged to look like BB-8.  He’s not so important that one of the last lingering moments has to be of your new creation, Abrams.  You’re not so essential to Star Wars that you have to make a “HEY LOOK AT ME THE GUY WHO MADE THIS MOVIE” made-for-screenshots image.

Meh

-There’s no meh.  There are just rare moments of contentment amongst a constant feeling of disappointment and frustration.

Random Asides

-Kathleen Kennedy did an interview with Rolling Stone in November of 2019 leading up to The Rise of Skywalker.  You may have seen it float around, but she said “Every one of these movies is a particularly hard nut to crack. There’s no source material. We don’t have comic books. We don’t have 800-page novels.”  It’s in relation to how difficult it is to write and direct the movies, but come on.  There’s TONS of source material, dating as far back 1977 for the comics AND the novels.  There might not be 800 page novels, but there are trilogies, doulogies and massive story arcs that exceed those numbers (NJO and Legacy of the Force may not be your thing, but they’re there).  Rebels went and borrowed Zeb’s look from the original script AND took characters directly from Zahn’s Thrawn trilogy; Clone Wars pulled from Legends while Legends were still considered canon and afterwards.  Not all of it is good; it’d be difficult to translate a lot of it to screen without heavy edits these days.

“I love that we have these amazingly passionate fans who care so much. And I know sometimes they may think we don’t listen, but we do, and I thought it was fantastic that people got that engaged. It just showed me and everybody else how much they care. And that’s important for all of us that are doing this. We really look at them as the custodians of this story as much as [we are]. We look at it as kind of a partnership.”  Except when we’re not happy with a product that turns out to be sub-par.  Piss right off.

-Billie Dee Williams seems like he’s dropped in from a different movie entirely.  Not a bad thing; his delivery and presence is just so different from anyone else’s.

All In All

-It’s my least favorite of all the movies.  Worse than any of the prequels.  And say what you will about the prequels: at least they had a connecting story and the director didn’t try to kneecap something that happened in the middle movie before burying it in a shallow grave while taking a dump on the things left behind that didn’t fit in their vision.  It’s worse than Solo.  No amount of fanservice can fix the fact that the movie was by-and-large unenjoyable.