#this is all stuff i hashed out when i was ignoring the rest of the dream as it unfolded around me bc i was busy instead wracking my brains

[iamthescalesofjustice]

had a dream segment that was so perplexing that i literally ignored the next part of my dream to sit down and analyze it. 

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, I have a number of things to go on about, and they’re vaguely related so I’m going to see if I can tie them together in one post.

It’s related to the extremely irritating issue of offensive material in comedy, and how much of it can be justified with irony, and whether intent matters. If anyone wants to understandably skip that because it passed the point of “re-hashed too many times” about thirty years ago and is somehow still going, then I understand. It’s a topic I’ve previously re-hashed on this blog, but not for a while, really, and I think that’s good. I think the good way to go through life, for the sake of my own emotional state and for just not contributing to a world that gives too much attention to toxic shit, is to enjoy what I like and ignore the rest.

In general, I do that much better than I used to. I used to have a bad habit of hate reading/watching things. When the Jordan Peterson issue comes up and people say “Well the people who criticize him haven’t even listened to him!” I can say actually, fuck you, I’ve listened to hours and hours and hours of his lectures on YouTube, just so I could say I don’t criticize things without knowing exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t do that, by the way. Waste of time. The people who think none of his critics have ever actually heard his arguments won’t be swayed by little things like the fact that it isn’t true. And getting the painstakingly long full context doesn’t make any of the soundbites seem more reasonable. Contrary to what everyone says, the full version of him is the story the soundbites tell, but in a form that’s mind-numbingly boring and pointlessly convoluted.

Anyway. That is not the point, this post isn’t actually about Jordan Peterson at all. The point is that I don’t do shit like that anymore, at least not regularly. Not for a long time. Not usually. It’s a waste of time, so I don’t. Usually. But in the last few weeks, I have done a bit of watching people be assholes on YouTube, specifically of the comedy variety, and I have some thoughts about that. So that’s this post. Feel free to skip it.

So, it started with Alun Cochrane. I was watching his clips from back when he was doing fun observational material about locking families in his basement, and from there, ended up on the side of him that’s started to go darker. I went on about that trajectory in another rambling post a few weeks ago, so no need to go over it all again now. The summary is that he used to do apolitical stuff (as apolitical as anything can be, at least) and generally seem pretty cool, and in about 2019 he started going a bit “well we have to consider that the bigots who don’t believe in food for low-income children make some good points, lets be fair and centrist about this”, and seems to have gone quite a bit further that way over the course of COVID.

In trying to work out what happened there, I ended up following him to the Comedy Unleashed YouTube channel, and a performance he did for them. I won’t link to it, or even get specific about anything else in this post, because I really don’t want to give them more attention. I already gave them some clicks and views, and that’s more than enough. All I need to say is it’s a YouTube channel for a promotion that puts on comedy shows for the free-thinking free speechists or whatever. They bill themselves that way, and everyone understands that it means it’s a place for comedians who are too right-wing for the regular comedy circuit, and comedy fans who are tired of comedy not made by assholes. Oh, and it’s for comedians who couldn’t make it as far as they wanted on the regular comedy circuit, and would like to enter a smaller and less competitive market. How do you tell the difference between that and the first type of comedian you see there? There are ways to make a guess, signs that could point one way or the other, but really, you can almost never know for sure. Does it fucking matter? Not really, I’d argue.

If someone is performing at a gig like that, and actively courting attention, laughs, and ticket sales from the sort of people who attend a gig like that, it doesn't really matter what their internal motivations are. The two options are different. In one case they’re just a shitty person from the beginning, and in the other case they’ve cynically sold out on a moral level. They're shitty either way. Neither type is justified, even if they're different.

But I am interested in the difference between people who’d knowingly do a gig like that, and people who might do that kind of material, without thinking about its wider implications. Or maybe they have thought about its implications, and they truly believe it’s justified, it’s not appealing to people who truly believe shitty things, we all get the irony, we get that it’s just a joke.

I’ve heard a million times that “intent is irrelevant”, when it comes to impact, and that’s true. I like this analogy about stepping on someone’s foot – it doesn’t matter if you meant to do it or not, you still hurt them and still need to stop. But if someone steps on my foot, I do care whether they did it on purpose. Not because if it was an accident, I’ll just let them keep standing there. I’ll tell them to stop, and if they say, “How dare you woke SJWs tell me how to live my life?” and step on it harder, then they can fuck off. But if they say, “Oh shit, sorry, didn’t see you there,” and get out of the way, then that’s a helpful thing for me to know. My foot hurts just as much as it would have if they’d done it on purpose, but I have useful information for the future. I know I don’t need to avoid this person, because they don't go around trying to step on people’s feet. I might get along with this person. It’s not a fundamental flaw in their character, it’s not a person who’s looking to hurt people. If I’m ever going to see them again, I want to know that.

I used to give people the benefit of the doubt a lot more than I do these days. It used to be that if I saw something shitty, I’d immediately make the most charitable assumption, and then try to prove it right. But every time that gets proven wrong, I get quicker to judge.

So, back to how that applies to comedy. I’d love to say my view of offensive comedy is that I just don’t like anyone who says mean things on stage, across the board. But that isn’t true (for me, at least – any comedy fans who do feel that way are probably better off). It can be really funny when someone’s an asshole on stage, if we know they don’t mean it. But if that’s the rule, then intent does matter. I need to know whether they meant it, whether they live that way.

A couple of years ago, when I first watched the Big Fat Quizzes, I remember using one of Jimmy Carr’s autocue jokes as an example of that. He said: “It’s incredibly important that we stop polar ice caps from melting. Because if they disappear, where am I going to hunt polar bears?” It’s not a great joke, but I have to admit, it’s all right for a Jimmy Carr joke. Made me laugh a bit. I posted a screenshot of it at the time, saying this can illustrate how to judge whether it’s acceptable to say shitty things in comedy. As it stands, that’s an all right joke. If it ever comes out that Jimmy Carr actually does hunt polar bears for sport, or if that joke were told by a different person, and that person actually did hunt polar bears for sport, then it wouldn’t be funny. So context does matter, even context that goes beyond just what happened on that stage before and after the joke.

That is my, admittedly flimsy, justification for why I can laugh at some of the most horrifying things Frankie Boyle said on early Mock the Week (my love for Frankie Boyle would be so much easier to justify if I could say I only liked him after he got older and made his act more targeted at those who deserve it, but I’m sorry to say I like it all), but not like it when Jimmy Carr says almost the same thing. Yeah, Jimmy Carr doesn’t really mean it any more than Frankie Boyle does, but Jimmy Carr courts ticket sales and laughs from people who do really mean that stuff, in a way that I don’t think Frankie Boyle ever did, even back in the day. I think. It’s not a perfect justification, but it’s what I’ve got right now. Though a few YouTube comments on old Frankie Boyle videos are enough to disprove it pretty fast. I might need to come up with something better.

Okay, how’s this for a justification? I think Frankie Boyle is an example of someone who does go around thinking about whether he’s stepping on people’s feet. Who used to truly believe that he wasn’t doing harm, and then thought about it more, and now takes more care. I believe that’s what happened because it’s what he told us happened. You either believe that’s what happened or you believe Frankie Boyle’s been lying for years (which some people do believe, and I can understand why someone could think that), but I haven’t made it up. He has written lots of articles about how he started reconsidering his targets, the way almost all his comedy came from hating “the system”, and he tries to think about the fact that hitting already vulnerable targets isn’t railing against “the system” that he hates, it’s playing right into its hands. And he doesn’t want to do that, but he does want to still make comedy that does something with all his anger, and he cares about doing that right.

This sort of thing is why Frankie Boyle appeals so much to me personally, as a woke SJW who wants to protect the vulnerable, but is also a big fan of angry vulgar comedy. There’s not a lot of crossover between angry vulgar comedy and comedy that is responsible in the way I care about, but Frankie Boyle is trying to work out how to do it, and I love that. There’s a bit on one of his DVD shows in which Frankie Boyle says he wishes we had a totally equal society, just so he could say horrible things about absolutely everyone and it wouldn’t be playing into the system’s hands, because the system isn’t trying to hurt anyone. He said that maybe someday he’ll do a gig in Sweden, known for its equitable living standards, so he can just unload on everyone. But in the meantime, he has to take context and marginalization into account.

That’s a better explanation I have for why I like Frankie Boyle, but it really only covers a certain era. It doesn’t justify the version of him that said horrible things to the mother of a kid with Down Syndrome, and then called Mark Watson a cunt for suggesting that they should do the exact thing that Frankie Boyle started talking about doing just a few years later, which is think critically about targets and who comedy hurts. For the record, I have never tried and would never try to defend that specific action from Frankie Boyle, my only defence for why I can like him despite that is I don’t think he’d stand by it today.

Anyway. My ongoing efforts to justify Mock the Week-era Frankie Boyle (to justify my enjoyment of him, I should say – I have no desire to justify him generally to anyone who doesn’t like him) are not what got me to write this particular post. What got me to do that was I ended up watching a bunch more Comedy Unleashed videos, after I first went there for Alun Cochrane. I know I shouldn’t have, I know things like that thrive on a hate watch-based view count, I don’t do this much anymore, but I did do it a few weeks ago. I wanted to see what they were saying. I wanted to see if I could understand where any of them were coming from. I wanted to try to guess who was there because they really believed in the ideals and who had gotten so sick of waiting for Mock the Week to call that they’d decided to just sell out.

Honestly, it’s not a bad game. I mean, it’s a bad game for the world, but it’s not bad as a way to pass the time. Watch the comedians who aren’t playing the game anymore. The ones who aren’t saying offensive shit and then justifying it with, “No, come on, it’s ironic!” They don’t need to justify it, because that’s what the crowd came to hear. This gig was advertised in a way to draw in all those shitty people who want to see their voice in the media. You can watch it and play Guess The Comedians’ Motivations. How many years did this person spend waiting for a call from Mock the Week before they gave up and started doing this shit?

There are context clues that can help with that game, and I sometimes find it genuinely interesting to see what they used to be. I guess the big one, the guy who was way ahead of the curve, jumping ship before it was cool, would be Andrew Lawrence. The guy whose YouTube videos start appearing in my recommendations if I do too much hate watching of anything. YouTube already knows I’m into British comedy, so if I watch a bunch of right-wing bullshit, it becomes convinced that what I what to see is British comedy and right-wing bullshit. And then my recommendations become a sea of Andrew Lawrence and Russell Brand. And – and this is interesting, as it’s a phenomenon that started relatively recently but is noticeable – the Russell Howard’s starting to increase alongside them. But that’s another issue.

I find the Andrew Lawrence story genuinely interesting, from the messed up part of me that finds any of this interesting. Because he used to be a regular comedian! He was trying to make it in the same circuit as everyone else for a long time. Then on one day in 2014, he decided to go on a Facebook rant (I won’t link that either, if you don’t know the story you can Google it, or better yet, don’t bother), and in one fell swoop cut off all his mainstream options. It’s a hell of a decision, one full of some very specifically targeted shots at Mock the Week, so that’s why I’m using “gave up waiting to get invited on Mock the Week” as my go-to example for why a comedian would go that way. Because it could not be clearer that that’s what pushed Andrew Lawrence over the edge. Got mad that he didn’t get asked on there, spewed a bunch of vitriol about how it’s the fault of the women and the people of colour (he did not use the term “people of colour”), made it so he could never do that sort of thing, but did gather an audience of all the right-wing people who don’t have a lot of comedians to enjoy these days. It’s a smaller audience, but there are fewer comedians competing for it, so it’s an option for people who don’t think they can make it otherwise.

Incidentally, Andrew Lawrence did make a hilarious video right after it was announced that Mock the Week would end in 2022. He calls multiple regulars out by name. He references Frankie Boyle, who hasn’t been there since 2009. He calls the host “Dara O’Brien”, really leaning into the “ii-en”, even though obviously he knows how to pronounce Dara’s name, it’s a name that’s clearly been keeping him awake at night for fifteen years. I won’t link to that either, but if you want a good laugh… I normally don’t recommend giving more views to that bullshit, but this one is so funny that it’s worth breaking that rule. It’s incredibly fucking funny. I won’t link it but you can look it up if you want to laugh.

The thing that actually got me writing this post is I was listening to an old recording of a multi-act comedy show from 2014, and I heard someone who’s on Comedy Unleashed in 2022. I was initially surprised to hear his name, but I thought about how long ago it was, and how much things have changed. If you watch Stewart Lee’s Alternative Comedy Experience TV show, Andrew Lawrence’s name is often on that sign that appears outside the comedy club at the beginning of the episodes. The list of names changes, but Lawrence’s name is there a lot. Which is weird, because he doesn’t actually appear in the show. I read somewhere that he recorded material for the show that didn’t make the final cut, which does seem likely, given that his name is all over it.

That show aired in 2013 and 2014, just before he went on his Facebook rant. Actually, now that I think about it, that coincides so closely that learning he’d been cut from that TV show could have been part of the reason he decided to burn his bridges. There was also a split with his management company or something, I don’t know exactly, but I do probably know too much about the situation.

The point is that lots of comedians who are doing the unapologetically right-wing thing these days were doing mainstream shows in 2014 (Stewart Lee would argue that that was not a mainstream show, but it was on TV and run by one of the most popular comedians of this generation, whether he likes it or not). If I’m using Alternative Comedy Experience as an example, Tony Law was all over that show, and he’s on Comedy Unleashed now. Same with Alun Cochrane, for that matter. Those two are both the sort of people who, in 2014, were also doing the type of gig that I was listening to today. The particular one I heard today featured Lewis Schaeffer, another comedian who’s on that right-wing circuit now. He’s gone properly that way, more than most. He’s on Comedy Unleashed and on GB News.

I’m avoiding writing too many specifics, partly because I try to avoid writing about any of the less-than-above-board comedy recordings I’ve been hearing lately (though I am four pages into this post and pretty confident that pretty much no one is reading it, I could say anything here, James Acaster is very good but a bit overrated, my brother’s told me some good gossip about Daniel Sloss that I wish I could make a post about but I don’t because I try to be responsible - see, doesn’t matter, I can admit things like that because no one’s here), and partly because I don’t want to give it more attention. Obviously this post in itself is lots of attention, but I don’t want to get too into the specifics of the shitty things he said, because there’s no need to amplify that shit. Basically, the stuff he said on Comedy Unleashed involved trans women. It wasn’t good.

I heard him come on to this gig from 2014, and I realized it made sense for him to be on that respectable stage back then, because it was before he went off in that bad direction. Can't blame them for having him on, they didn't know what he'd become. But then I heard him tell almost the same story he told on Comedy Unleashed. The one about trans women.

At first I was very surprised, because this is a show by people I respect, and I didn’t expect them to condone that sort of comedy. But then I listened more closely, and realized that if you strip it of context, I can see how it sounds okay. If I didn’t know this guy would go on to be a GB News pundit and everything else, if I didn’t know he’d go on to tell this same story in front of an audience that was genuinely out for trans people’s blood, I could read it as ironic. Also, there were a few differences. In front of the right-wing crowd in recent years, he made a few more direct references to the “trans movement” or whatever, being more explicit in what he was saying. When he told the story years ago, he was more ambiguous. He played on a couple of harmful tropes, but he didn’t tie it to larger issues. He suggested that he was the butt of the joke, not a marginalized group. It was essentially the same material, but with a few more layers of irony and some of the most clearly bigoted comments not included.

That, to me, is such a stark example of how thin the line is between “ironic bigotry” and genuine bigotry. I think if I’d been at that gig in 2014, I’d have thought I understood that he wasn’t actually talking about transgender people, he was just making a joke. I might have found it funny, if I’d seen it stripped of context. In this case, that context was some shit that wouldn’t happen until years later. That context was me seeing him tell the same joke, with just a few modifications, in front of an unironically transphobic crowd, and get laughs from it. That makes me reconsider any “ironically bigoted” jokes that I might enjoy when they get told today, that I’ll listen to with charitable assumptions, believing those people don’t really mean it.

When I was in high school, my friends were into The IT Crowd. I didn’t watch all of it – I didn’t end up watching the whole show until 2020 – but I did watch a few episodes of it with my friends back in the day. One of the episodes that I watched when it aired in 2008 was the one in which Matt Berry dates a trans woman. You know, the horrifying one. And the one that started it all for Graham Linehan. It's worth remembering that all of Graham Linehan's bullshit started with backlash from just one episode of The IT Crowd.

In high school, my best friend was a trans girl. She came out to me in 2006 and we graduated in 2008, and while 2022 is still not an easy time to be transgender, 2006-2008 was worse. She and I both watched the IT Crowd trans episode, and we cringed our way through it. It wasn’t good. But we didn’t let it ruin our enjoyment of the show. And at this point, I’m mostly including her perspective to try to justify why I was willing to overlook it – I know it’s bad, but my friend who actually was trans was overlooking it too. It was just how things were, because it was 2008. Not that that was okay - fuck anyone who says, “This was okay back then.” It wasn’t okay. But it was normalized. It seemed okay, because there was nothing better.

It was normalized enough so I could watch it, even in 2020, and say, “Well shit, this is fucking bad, but, okay, I guess they hadn’t thought about it.” That was my charitable assumption. When I re-watched the episode in 2020, I cringed again, it was really bad, but I watch lots of bad stuff that makes me cringe. I just think, “Okay, they’re probably not setting out to cause harm, just get through this bit and move on.” In 2008, there was so little trans visibility that it is conceivable that the episode was written by someone who just hadn’t thought about the fact that it took aim at real people. He could have just stepped on a foot by accident. That means someone’s foot still got hurt, but it doesn’t mean it was written by someone who goes around intentionally hurting people.

Obviously, that is not the case. Not long after I finished re-watching The IT Crowd in 2020, I came across the whole fucking Graham Linehan mess, and learned that the foot-stepping was very much intentional. Or maybe it still wasn’t, at first. He may well not have originally written that episode for the purpose of being an asshole. But he’s the person who steps on a foot by accident, gets told to get off the person’s foot, and says, “Fuck you, I’ll step wherever the fuck I want.” And then goes a giant campaign to step on every foot possible, in the most painful possible ways, specifically targeting the most vulnerable and marginalized feet. He dedicates his whole fucking life to stepping on feet, just because someone asked him not to.

But without context, that episode seemed… overlookable. It seemed bad, painfully transphobic, but I could gloss over that for a good show (the fact that The IT Crowd isn't really that good a show is a separate issue). I could make charitable assumptions, and guess that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Like with the Lewis Schaeffer bit in 2014, when he told that weird story about a woman with a penis, left the stage, and got praised by people I respect. People whom I truly believe would not have been cool with it if they knew he would go on to use that bit to intentionally spread hate. I think I would have seen it as acceptable, back in 2014. Not because I didn’t care about trans people back then, but because I’d have believed it was ironic.

Okay, that’s what I’ve got on this subject. I’m not sure if it’s quite coherent, and I don’t know if it comes together to make my point very well. But I think my point is that I’m finding my tolerance for ironic bigotry getting lower than it used to be. I don’t know. I’m thinking of the Marc Maron joke in which he claims all men want to have sex with teenage girls, which I initially thought was actually a decent joke – as someone who works with a lot of teenagers, I find that an accurate parody of the sort of gross stuff that gets said by men who creep on teenage girls. Good send-up of men like that, solid joke. Is what I thought, until I learned that Marc Maron does have a reputation for dating much younger women. Right, okay, it wasn’t a send-up, it was a comedian expressing his actual views. Well fuck you then. That’ll teach me to make charitable assumptions.

I think that’s my point. I recently posted a Josie Long quote: “There is no space for irony in these dark times. Stop ironically saying the words, we’re all just hearing the fucking words.” I think my point is that Josie Long is right. It’s fucking jarring to think something’s ironic and then realize it isn’t. And if comedians want to say terrible things “ironically”, it should be on them to prove that they don’t really mean it, instead of on us to prove they do. I think my point might just be that Josie Long is right about everything.

Still working on how to square this point with how much I like to get drunk and re-watch Frankie Boyle-era Mock the Week. But, genuinely, my answer to that is that he has gone on to show he cares about this stuff. If Lewis Schaeffer or Graham Linehan can retroactively make their stuff unjustifiable by proving they really did hold those awful views, then surely Frankie Boyle can retroactively show he really was always being ironic. Doesn’t explain the time he called Mark Watson a cunt for questioning him, though (I single that out as particularly indefensible not because I think it's worse when he's mean to other famous people than to marginalized groups, but because the Mark Watson thing is something he said while not "in character", while not joking, while not claiming there was any irony, and while being several different shades of hypocrite about it). I’ve got nothing on that. If anyone wants to hate Frankie Boyle for that alone, I dan’t blame them for one second.

[erimeows]

Falling

The sound of falling rain echoes in Saeyoung’s ears as he sits at his computer, brain refusing to work. His headphones are secured over his ears, but the rain clambering on his metal roof makes a cacophony of noise that drowns out that of the music playing. It’s frustrating, but he knows there’s nothing he can do about it; it’s just part of spring creeping into summer. He tries his best to ignore the unwanted, uncontrollable noise and focus on work in front of him to no avail. Briefly, he hears the shuffling footsteps of Saeran in the kitchen.

Maybe he just needs newer, better headphones. 

With a huff, he takes the headphones off and leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head. Since quitting his old job and convincing Vanderwood to come along with him, life has been peaceful. The two men live with Saeran in Seven’s home with all three of them doing different freelance and online security work to make money. Saeyoung is happy to have the people he cares about safe and in one place, but life has become awfully… Boring.

No danger, no physical activity, and hardly any social interaction outside of the RFA chat rooms, Seven is- for the most part- incredibly bored. These days, he mostly just looks forward to making up lost time with Saeran and logging into the RFA chatroom. Life is mundane and repetitive now, but as many complaints as he has about that, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It’s late enough at night- or, early enough in the morning- that Vanderwood is asleep and Saeran is having his second midnight snack. Zen, Jaehee, and V are probably all asleep as well, and Yoosung is gaming, though he isn’t quite sure of Jumin’s whereabouts. Last he heard, the man was on a business trip in a different country, and though they’d texted sporadically over the past few days, he didn’t know much about what Jumin was doing. When he checked the messenger a few hours ago, he read that Jumin was about to be on a flight back relatively soon.

A small smile graces his lips as he thinks about the businessman. Since the last RFA party, they’ve been talking a lot more; texting, calling. Every once in a while, Jumin will hire Seven to do some work for him. They’re an awkward pair, but in a weird way, Seven thinks they work; their banter in the chat rooms, their phone calls, their joint work, he values all of it.

Right then, his phone starts to ring. He fishes it out of his jeans pocket and sees that it’s Jumin calling, so he decides to answer.

“Jumin? You usually don’t call at this time,” Seven pauses to do a spin in his computer chair, eyes on the ceiling as he holds his phone to his ear. “You must’ve just gotten off your flight! Need me for somethin’?”

“No, I just saw that you were online and decided to call. Are you typically up this late, Seven?”

“Ha, yeah, I guess you could call me a bit of a night owl! Crime only happens in the night, after all, and that’s when you’d need The Defender Of Justice the most!”

“Statistically, a lot of crimes are more likely to happen during the daytime.”

“Jeez, okay, Mr. walking encyclopedia!” Seven laughs and rolls his eyes. “Headed home right now, I’m assuming?”

“No, actually, Driver Kim is transporting me to V’s to pick up Elizabeth 3rd as we speak, but I will be headed home after that.”

“I’m happy to hear that! Should mean that you’ll be getting some well deserved rest, and in the morning, we can hash out that catbot idea I brought up to you in the chat room earlier!”

“Yes, yes,” Jumin responds with a chuckle, and Seven can just hear his smile over the phone. For whatever reason, it makes his heart flutter. “When are you going to get some rest? Or do you have work to finish?”

“Don’t you know? Justice never rests, Juju!”

“Stop calling me that.”

“In all seriousness, though, I’m not tired at all yet! I do have some stuff I could stand to be working on, but for some reason, I just can’t focus tonight… I’ll probably be up a bit.”

“I see… Don’t deprive yourself of sleep. It will alter your productivity… Or, if you care more about physical matters, it’s bad for your skin. Zen always claims that these late night to early morning hours are when your skin replenishes itself.”

“Since when have you listened to what Zen says?”

“Don’t misconstrue my words; I’m not having a change of heart regarding Zen,” Jumin mutters. Seven imagines his expression; cheeks dusted red and gaze askew. “Just offering you a different perspective about, er… The importance of a good night’s sleep.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“Your dreadful sleeping habits aside, is it raining where you’re at as well?”

“You know it,” Saeyoung answers. As rain is falling on his roof, the same rain is falling on the windows of Jumin’s limousine, and they’re under the same sky. The sliver of warmth he feels in his chest at that thought is something he chooses to ignore in favor of talking to Jumin. “Can’t stand this kind of weather, to be honest.”

“Is that so? I find it quite peaceful. Why aren’t you fond of it?”

“Too loud!”

“For someone as loud as yourself, that’s quite the claim.”

“I know, I know, but there’s a difference between controlled noise and uncontrolled noise, y’know? I like loud music and I like being loud because I can control it and turn it off whenever I want! Rain just… Keeps on going. It doesn’t stop when I want it to, can’t turn it on and off. Get what I mean?”

“I suppose so. It makes sense when you explain it like that.”

“Am I the first one you called?”

“Yes,” Jumin answers without hesitation, pauses for a few seconds too long, and then continues. “I’m not sure why, but you’re the first person I thought of… I hope you don’t mind. I suppose I should’ve texted you first to make sure it was alright.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! Are you almost at V’s?”

“Yes, actually, I should hang up now.”

“Okay, tell Elly I said hello! Give her tons of hugs and kisses for me!”

“Goodnight, Seven. Sleep well, whenever you do… And take care.”

“Yeah, you too…”

Saeyoung realizes something is very, very wrong when he notices that he feels like something is missing at the end of the call. He opens his mouth to say ‘I love you’ without even thinking about it, but before he can out himself, Jumin hangs up on him, and it’s then that he processes the reality of what he almost just revealed.

I love you.

Oh. Oh, no.

It explains so much, and yet, he doesn’t understand it- rather, he doesn’t want to understand it. Deep down, he’s been aware that his relationship with Jumin is far from normal for a long time. They started out as nothing more than acquaintances through V, and over time, they developed something special. For every time Jumin banters with him in the group chat when the other RFA members are logged on, and for every time Jumin scolds him for putting himself into bad situations, he’s sure to also receive a picture of Elly or a warm phone call.

And maybe they aren’t best friends, but they’re something, and that’s always been enough for Seven- at least until now. Now, his feelings, his love, his attraction, his admiration; all these things he’s ignored and pushed down over the years are resurfacing, and he’s drowning in them. They’re bubbling up in his lungs, and suddenly, he can’t breathe.

He doesn’t have enough experience to handle the feelings on his own, and everyone is a disaster. So, as he holds his head in his hands, he figures he’ll continue doing what he’s been doing for years anyways.

Push the feelings deep down and hope they never resurface. Never say a word of it to anyone, avoid Jumin for dear life, and pray to God that this all returns to the back of his mind without him having to force it to do so. 

“What did you do?”

Seven nearly jumps out of his chair and drops his phone in the process at the sound of Vanderwood’s voice. His phone falls on the floor with a horrid clattering sound that makes him flinch. Fearful, he looks up to see Vanderwood standing in the doorway of the hall that connects to the room in which he works.

“Who said I did anything? You just scared the shit out of me!” He laughs in an attempt to calm himself down, heart racing.

“You’re making the face,” Vanderwood points out with a yawn. He’s dressed head to toe in cheetah print pajamas and matching houseshoes, and his light brown hair is even messier than usual. “And don’t try to deny it. We both know you always make that same face when you fuck something up.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right, but you have nothing to worry about! It doesn’t pertain to you, anyhow, it’s just a personal issue,” At that, Vanderwood quirks an eyebrow and gives him a very specific look of judgmental disbelief, so he continues. “Really! C’mon, dude, I’m a big boy, I can solve my own problems-”

“You can’t even make your bed, operate a washer or dryer, wash your own dishes, use a vacuum, or-”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Seven snaps. 

“You sure you’re good? Don’t need my help with anything?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Seven nods a little too enthusiastically. 

“If you say so.”

“What are you doing up this late?”

“Just getting water, duh,” Vanderwood spits the words like Seven’s question was ridiculous, then tapers off to the kitchen, footsteps practically inaudible. 

Seven just sighs and shakes his head. 

“What to do now…”

~~~

A week passes after that. While still active in the RFA chat rooms, Seven has been avoiding Jumin; not answering his calls, barely responding to his DMs, and leaving the chat room around the times that the other man usually logs on. It hasn’t helped with his feelings at all. If anything, the amount that he misses Jumin is unnatural, and it’s only making things much, much worse. However, he doesn’t plan on stopping- he’s already too deep, he thinks.

“Yo, Seven, you good?” Yoosung speaks, gently bumping his shoulder. Seven looks at the younger man to see that his violet eyes are filled with a mixture of concern and frustration. “You’ve been spacing out this whole game!”

Yoosung’s exclamation snaps him back to reality, and he looks at the blond to his right, then at Saeran, who is sitting to the left. It’s their biweekly LOLOL night, and while it’s usually his time to socialize and have fun, he can’t bring himself to pay attention. They’re playing 3v3, each with a laptop in front of them, and Seven has died at least four different times.

“Just fine, thanks!”

“How convincing,” Saeran muses with a roll of his seafoam eyes, then turns to talk to Yoosung like Saeyoung isn’t sitting right between them. “Obviously, something’s up with him, he just doesn’t care to say what it is.”

“C’mon, Saeran, you’re looking too much into it. Really, I’m fine!” Saeyoung insists, only to then die again. 

Saeran and Yoosung both groan. They’re losing the match so badly that it’s sure to tank their current rankings in the event. 

“You may be fine, but your gaming isn’t! You totally suck right now, man,” Yoosung complains and hurriedly slams some buttons on his keyboard. Seven is just surprised he hasn’t broken the damn thing yet. “You’re tanking us!”

“Yeah, your mind is obviously somewhere else,” Saeran sighs, healing both Yoosung and Seven, only for the round to end a few seconds later. Unsurprisingly, the margin between their team and the other one borders on being embarrassing. “Why not just take a break and come back to it after clearing your head?”

Seven doesn’t really want to stop playing, because if he does, that means he’s going to be alone again- alone with his thoughts. But, when he looks at Yoosung and Saeran’s faces, it’s clear that they don’t want him there if he’s just going to be distracted the whole time.

“Okay… If you guys say so,” Seven shrugs and shuts his computer off. “Have fun, I guess.”

Before he can even do anything, Saeran and Yoosung quickly stand up, computers in hand. Quick footsteps are heard on the wooden floor as the two retreat to Saeran’s bedroom. Then, the door is audibly locked. Seven lets out a huff and goes over to his work station, only to notice movement on the cameras. To his horror, Jumin is at his front door, trying to get in. The red-head turns the audio on as he cringes.

On one hand, he’d been hoping to just avoid Jumin forever, but on the other hand, he’s flattered that Jumin has taken the time to come see him after a long day at work.

“What exactly is this security system of yours? It’s baffling,” Jumin complains as he stands there with crossed arms, clearly frustrated with the automated voice telling him the passcode sentence is in Cantonese- a language that he obviously doesn’t know. 

“Oh, c’mon, Juju,” Saeyoung teases with a cackle through the microphone that connects to the camera outside. “You don’t know how to ask to go to the bathroom in Cantonese? I thought someone as well versed as you would-”

“Let me in or I’m leaving.”

He isn’t sure why he does it considering that he’s been avoiding Jumin for a week now and planned to keep it up, but he unlocks the door through his security system and allows Jumin inside before closing it again. He’s alerted of Jumin’s presence by slow, light footsteps in his living room, which has him turning around in his swivel chair to face Jumin with a smile…

Only for that smile to drop immediately at the sight of the man in front of him.

Saeyoung wants to light his body on fire and the world along with it when he thinks about the convoluted sort of crush that he’s developed. ‘Crush’ is a mild and juvenile term to use for it, really, but he’s afraid if he labels the big, bad feelings as something more serious, they’ll only get worse- hell, Saeyoung already thinks having these sorts of feelings for Jumin in the first place is the worst thing in the world. He’ll go through phases where he tells himself it’s a manifestation of his loneliness and nothing more, only to see Jumin like this and be reminded that it’s very much genuine and that there’s no escaping it.

And yes, he’s learned that holding onto love so tightly only makes it hurt more in the end when it slips from between his fingers, but he can’t help it; he’s afraid of too much of it slipping out and being known, because he can’t stand to be known, to be vulnerable. So, when he loves someone else, whether it be his family or his friends, he holds onto that love so tight that it makes his hands bleed. He’s self-aware and always has been- he just doesn’t care about himself enough to change his bad habits. 

He takes a step back and wrings his hands together as he tries to think of some sort of joke to ease the tension in the air. When he opens his mouth, though, nothing comes out, because all he can do is stare and he hates himself for it.

Jumin Han is pretty. He has soft, pleasant features that are always twisted into sharp, pointed expressions. Delicate, thin lips. A rounded jaw and chin. Deep grey eyes adorned with fluttering lashes and low set brows. Feathery, wispy, long obsidian locks of hair that frame every inch of his face perfectly and tickle the back of his narrow neck and the lobes of his reddened ears. He’s a little taller than Saeyoung, so he towers over the redhead when they stand too close. Just looking at the man is enough to make his mouth go dry.

To Saeyoung, Jumin is the calm to his chaos; the water to his fire, the moon to his tides, the grounding hands that hold his own when they’re shaking… Not that Jumin ever actually holds his hands. As always, Saeyoung keeps a reasonable distance. 

“You know, Saeyoung,” Jumin speaks, uncharacteristically casual as he paces around the room. Each time he passes where Saeyoung is sat in his computer chair, he runs a pale hand over the redhead’s shoulders. The unexpected touch makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but whatever thrill he might’ve felt from it is killed by the tone Jumin takes with him when speaking his following words. “I’ve learned quite a bit in the years I’ve worked for my father’s company, and in what I’ve learned, I’ve developed a talent for reading the people around me.”

It’s an awkward approach, but it’s direct, not as stiff or as guarded as conversations with Jumin tend to be. The realization that this is a personal conversation rather than a work-related one fills the hacker with terror. It becomes very apparent very quickly that Jumin is not talking to 707, nor is he talking to the infamous cat abuser, defender of justice, LOLOL champion, or any of the other personas that he’s built- no, he’s talking to Saeyoung .

“Yeah, haha,” Oh, God. Saeyoung swears his voice cracks at the end of his laugh, as if he doesn’t already sound strained enough. For just a few moments, when he thinks Jumin isn’t looking he allows himself to cringe. Why is it so much easier to type random bullshit on a keyboard and do funny voices over the phone than it is to talk in person? Why can’t he just be normal when he needs to the most? Why is he suddenly so anxious? “Don’t tell me your magical, godly, brilliant ability to read your investors has something to do with why you came over today! Are you finally going to use my catbot companion idea for your company? Is that why you wanted to visit me so suddenly? I know it’s a great concept, but it’s pretty late-!”

“There’s a difference between your genuine humor and your defensive humor, and you unfortunately are trying to distract me from why I came here with the latter,” Jumin suddenly cuts off his nervous rambling with a sharp interjection and an equally sharp glare. 

“Defensive humor?” Saeyoung laughs, his face burning a shade that’s almost as dark as his hair. In an attempt to pretend like he isn’t totally fucking dying inside, he turns back to his computer and opens Tetris to start a game of it. Perhaps, fueled by his humiliation and fear, Saeyoung can beat his top score. He sits there shakily stacking blocks on blocks with the arrow keys on his ergonomic keyboard, waiting for Jumin to respond. And honestly, he knows Jumin well enough to know that this is a mind game the ravenette plays with people- simply waiting for a silence awkward enough that they’ll talk themselves into their own graves, talk themselves into corners that they can’t get out of- but he plays it regardless, because how can he resist? It’s in his programming to try to talk himself out of confrontation, and Jumin knows that. “I don’t really understand! I tell you and the others everything, y’know? Like how I write fanfiction about my LOLOL character, or about that one time V had to drive me to urgent care because I leaned too far back in my chair and fell out and hit my head-!”

Seemingly tired of his nonsensical efforts to defend aforementioned ‘defensive humor’, Jumin stops right behind the younger man and puts a firm hand on his bare shoulder. The feeling of the ravenette’s cool skin against his makes Saeyoung short circuit momentarily. Within the span of a few seconds, all the blocks in his Tetris game pile up, leaving him with a pathetic score of 1,236.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, of course not, ” Saeyoung objects just a little too quickly, shrugs Jumin’s hand off of his shoulder, stands up, and turns around to face the older man. They’re just a little too close- so close that he can smell the remnants of wine, expensive cologne, and lavender shampoo- and surprisingly, Jumin doesn’t care to put a gap in between them. Instead, the ravenette stands there with a firm look and crossed arms. “I just don’t know what you’re getting at-!”

“Bullshit-” Jumin raises his voice.

“Jumin, you need to be quiet or Sae and Yoosung are gonna hear you- they’re both here!”

“My apologies for raising my voice when you have company, but you have to understand my frustrations… And you won’t admit it on your own, so I’ll help you out; you’re avoiding me.”

“I would never! How could I stand to avoid you? I wouldn’t be able to see my dearest Elly, after all!”

Saeyoung pauses, expecting Jumin to snap at him about calling his beloved cat Elly yet again.

Jumin does no such thing. 

So, Saeyoung quickly realizes that his go to defense mechanism isn’t working and dissolves into complete and utter panic. He’s shaking, struggling to talk, wringing his hands together, and worst of all, he can’t maintain eye contact. All he does is stare at the floor. 

“You’re worrying me,” Jumin finally says, a bit softer now.

“Ah, you really don’t need to do that,” Saeyoung manages to pull it together by dropping the shield of 707 momentarily. He wonders if he acts serious about this for a few moments, he can convince Jumin that he’s telling the truth. “I appreciate you coming here to check on me and everything, but I’m not avoiding you; I’ve just been busy with work and everything-”

“Busy with work? I guess that’s why you hosted a game night here with Yoosung and Saeran tonight… Or why you went drinking with Zen the other day, or met Jaehee for coffee a week or so ago. Are you under the impression that I don’t pay attention to your whereabouts?” Jumin looks away, his face ridden with an emotion Saeyoung can’t decipher. The red-head stares down at the ground and bites the inside of his cheek. “As a member of the RFA, your life is very important to me.”

“Well, you’re here, and I’m fine,” Seven sighs, shaky. All the possibilities start running through his head. Is Jumin mad at him? Or worse, has Jumin figured out his secret? Has it been obvious the whole time? “That’s what you came for, right?”

“You’re being defensive again- just trying to get me to stop so you don’t have to come to terms with the consequences of your own actions. I didn’t want to have to say this, but, while I understand that I’m not entitled to your time… The fact that you’ve been leaving right as I enter the chatroom and ignoring all of my calls and most of my texts has been eating at me over the past few weeks. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No, not at all! Really, I haven’t been avoiding you on purpose, Jumin, I’ve just been busy and it’s not like we talk much or hang out in the first place-”

“Well, maybe I want to, Saeyoung,” The words are rushed and have an edge to them, unlike anything the redhead has heard from the man before tonight. “There was this brief period of time where I thought we were getting along quite well; this span of a few months where we were talking so regularly that, when you dropped off the face of the planet the way you did, it stung. For the first few days, I almost thought our newfound bond was a figment of my imagination, but- ah, never mind… It doesn’t matter.”

Saeyoung blinks, golden eyes snapping up to meet the deep grey ones in front of him. Jumin’s cheeks are burning red enough that it makes Saeyoung think that his feelings might actually be reciprocated. 

“Wh… What? What are you trying to say, Jumin?”

“Maybe I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Jumin reaches forward and gestures with his hand for Seven to hand him his glasses, so he does. The corporate heir takes them in his delicate hands and uses the soft purple handkerchief in his breast pocket to clean the lenses before handing them back. Fumbling with his hands, Seven barely manages to get the glasses back on his face. His vision is a lot better now. He isn’t sure when the last time he cleaned his glasses prior to that was. “...And maybe you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Well, what’s there to talk about?” Saeyoung raises an eyebrow, forces a smile, and defensively folds his arms. “Unless you really are here for my catbot idea, that is-”

“No,” Jumin pinches the bridge of his nose, gorgeous eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “It’s more complicated than that. I’d rather not say. I just… This isn’t going anywhere, but are you alright? I suppose that’s all that matters to me right now. I’ve been worried sick about you for a week now.”

“I’m more than alright,” Seven says, and it’s a lie that comes easily, one that he’s told too many times. It’s easy to tell that Jumin doesn’t believe him, but he keeps going. “No need to worry about me!”

“If you say so… I’ll be headed home, then; I’d hate to leave Driver Kim waiting.”

“Okay,” Seven nods, debates on telling Jumin to text him when he’s back at his penthouse, then decides against it. He figures Jumin will notify him by logging back into the chatroom when he’s home, anyway. “See ya later!”

“Yes, indeed… Take care, Saeyoung.”

Jumin doesn’t say or do anything else, doesn’t even look at Saeyoung. Instead, he swiftly turns around and leaves, quiet footsteps echoing through the house. When the front door shuts and locks, instead of letting out a sigh of relief, tears well up in Saeyoung’s eyes.

“Damn… Why am I missing him so soon?”

For once, he’s not hurt by the fact that Yoosung and Saeran have once again left him alone to do their own thing and forgotten about him. Instead, it has him feeling grateful that he has a moment to himself to cry. He lets the tears pour down his cheeks as he double checks his security system to make sure that the cameras are still working and all the doors in the house are locked. 

Maybe he needs to rethink his strategy. Maybe, if he stops avoiding Jumin and pretends that everything is normal, things will be normal again. 

Yeah, that’ll work, he tells himself. 

Forcing a smile and drying the tears, Seven goes to his room and sits down on the edge.

‘Tomorrow will be better.’

~~~

Tomorrow- or, today now- is not, in fact, better. Saeyoung wasn’t able to sleep and is now sitting in the kitchen with a depressing breakfast of celery sticks and peanut butter. While he initially appreciated the deafening silence for the first couple hours after Yoosung snuck out the backdoor at 5AM, it’s gotten to a point where the intrusive thoughts are now too much. And yet, he can’t bring himself to make them stop. He just sits there with bags under his eyes, full of celery, peanut butter, coffee, and self-doubt- at least until the sound of Saeran’s soft footsteps snap him out of it.

“What…” Saeran trails off as he sits across from Seven at the table with a bowl of ice cream- one scoop of vanilla, one scoop of mint, one scoop of chocolate, and one scoop of salted caramel- only a fraction of the ungodly amount of ice cream they have in the freezer. It’s not the most nutritious breakfast, but the redhead doesn’t have the energy to say anything- mostly due to the fact that he was up all night stressing out about Jumin. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re eating real food, which you never do,” Saeran starts, pointing at Seven’s breakfast of champions; celery sticks and peanut butter, which he’s been sitting at the table eating on and off for the past three hours bemidst his quarter-life (?) crisis. “You didn’t sing in the shower this morning like usual and it definitely doesn’t help that you look like you slipped in shit and got ran over… Or something. You haven’t looked like this much of a wreck since I was in that mental hospital, man.”

“Listen, it’s not important, Saeran,” Seven sighs, finishes the last bit of celery stick, and closes the peanut butter container as he thinks back to the shower he took this morning- the first one in a few days. He scrubbed as hard as he could, but nothing could seem to make the feelings wash away like he hoped. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“Saeyoung,” The other man deadpans and blows the locks out of his face. They’re white at the ends, pink in the middle, and red at the roots. “You think I’m fuckin’ stupid or something?”

“I never said that! I just-”

“Dude. You’ve been a wreck for a week and you haven’t been working at all for days, so don’t try to bullshit me. I know how you operate.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

In an attempt to distract himself, Seven stands up to put the peanut butter back in the pantry. He fully intends on walking out of the kitchen so he can lock himself in his bedroom for the rest of the day, but before he can, Saeran speaks up again between bites of ice cream.

“What I want is for you to tell me what’s up.”

“I’ve… Caught feelings for someone,” Saeyoung worries his inner lip and takes a good, long look at his brother from where he’s standing in front of the fridge, his back leaned against the cold metal now. Considering what Saeran has already been through over the past- well, his entire life- Seven isn’t sure that venting to him is the best idea at first, but it’s such a trivial issue compared to everything else that they’ve been through that he doesn’t end up thinking better of it. After all, if he continues trying to dodge the subject, Saeran is bound to pester him until he fesses up. “And it’s been bothering me because I don’t know what to do.”

“Really? Just shove them deep down into the abyss and pretend they don’t exist like the rest of us.”

“Gee, thanks, I hadn’t thought of that,” Seven shakes his head and laughs, and Saeran laughs along with him for a moment. “No, but seriously, I already tried that and it didn’t work. Things have just gotten worse between us.”

“Never thought I’d see you in love. Are they an alien? Some kind of weirdo? A cat? Can I get a name?”

While the implication that Saeyoung is such a peculiar man that he’s incapable of having a romantic dynamic with a normal human is somewhat hurtful, he ignores it in favor of deciding whether or not he should give an honest answer, then comes to the conclusion that Saeran doesn’t care much about his love life past being concerned about him nor does Saeran benefit by telling anyone that would let the news get back to Jumin. 

“Uh… Jumin Han.”

“I didn’t realize it was April Fools,” The younger man deadpans. “Got a calendar on your phone I can look at?”

“It’s not a joke, Saeran- trust me, I wish it was, I really do, but it’s not.”

“Oh, wow… You’re really into Jumin like that?” Saeran pauses, raises an eyebrow, and finishes the rest of his ice cream. Awkward silence fills the room as Seven’s throat and chest tighten with anxiety. Admittedly, even he can admit that Jumin isn’t the most conventional choice, one that he will undoubtedly get shit for. The corporate heir is inconsiderate, unsympathetic, closed-minded, stiff, cold, and has both a questionable sense of humor and a tendency to throw copious amounts of money at all his problems. “I didn’t even know he was your type.”

“Shit, man,” Saeyoung rests his elbows on the kitchen counter, holds his head in his hands, and gives a sardonic smile. “Neither did I.”

“Good luck,” Saeran stands and takes his bowl to the sink to rinse it out, but he doesn’t wash it nor does he wash his spoon, simply leaving the dishes for Vanderwood to bitch about later. “But if I could give you some advice, why not just rip the bandaid off and tell him? Maybe he likes you back, and if he doesn’t, it’s better to get the rejection out of the way right now than to wait a few years and have it hurt more.”

“Honestly, I never plan on telling him, and I doubt he likes me back.”

“That discussion I overheard last night tells me otherwise. I didn’t know what the hell you two were going on about at first, but now that I have the context, I think I understand. You were just avoiding him because you like him.”

“You were eavesdropping on us!?”

“No, the two of you just talk really fuckin’ loud. Yoosung heard it, too, and he was just as confused as I was. I don’t know what you thought was going to happen with you having an intimate discussion in the middle of the living room that brazenly when my room is right at the beginning of the hallway, dumbass,” Saeran scolds him whilst also putting a reassuring, awkward hand on one of his shoulders. “You’re especially lucky that Vanderwood wasn’t here.”

“Oh,” Seven winches at that thought, aware that had Vanderwood been awake and present, he wouldn’t have hesitated to embarrass both him and Jumin by barging into the living room and  “Well, whatever it was you heard last night doesn’t make anything concrete. And even if he does have feelings for me, I’m not going to say anything.”

“Why not? It’s better than sitting around pining over the guy.”

“So what if he does want me back? Then what? A relationship between us wouldn’t work, just think about it. His father wouldn’t approve of it, which is a huge deal for him and his business, and I can’t be in the public I because of…” Saeyoung stops himself. The Prime Minister died months ago from a sudden heart attack, but he’s still hesitant to be seen in the public eye. Maybe his father is long gone, but there are other people after him who aren’t, and more importantly, Jumin’s career would be at stake. “It would be impossible for Jumin and I to function as a healthy couple without putting both myself and you in serious danger. Don’t you understand?”

“You’re Saeyoung Choi, 707, Defender Of Justice, aren’t you? You’d make it work if you really wanted it to,” Saeran shrugs, then turns away and begins to walk out of the kitchen, only to stop in the doorway and look back at him. “I think you’re just scared of opening up to someone and not being able to take it back if things don’t work.”

“Well, what if I say something and it doesn’t work out? What then?”

“If you go in with that mindset, then it’s not going to work out. Try to be positive about yourself for once. It’s better to get rejected and have some chance of moving on than to sit around and suffer, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think moving on is as easy as you think it is,” Saeyoung argues.

“What would you say if it were me instead of you?”

“Dammit, don’t put it like that!” He exclaims and crosses his arms over his chest, averting his brother’s prying gaze. He’s suddenly reminded of just last night when Jumin got past his walls in exactly the same way, and he wonders if he’s not good at hiding like he used to be- or, better yet, if he was never good at hiding at all. “That isn’t fair- it’s different for you.”

“How so? We look the same, we’re in similar positions, we have a lot of the same issues. How is it different?” Saeran zeroes in on him, and he can’t come up with a good response. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have anything to say because it’s not different, you’re just blowing it out of proportion because it’s you and you hate yourself, so you self-sabotage. If it were anyone else in your situation, you would tell them to make a move, but because it’s you, you don’t want to, right?”

“Okay, okay, I get it! Jeez, dude, when did you become such a therapist?”

“When did you become such an idiot?” Saeran counters with a roll of his mint-hued, contact-covered eyes.

“Look, it’s more complicated than you realize-”

“Ah, I’ve gotta go. Zen and Jaehee are here,” Saeran mutters as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen. Now that Saeyoung is paying attention, it’s obvious that Saeran is dressed up more than usual; a casual button-up, jeans, and sneakers. It’s quite a bit different than his typical househoes, sweats, and the sweater that hasn’t been washed in weeks. “See ya later.”

“Woah, wait, where are you going with Zen and Jaehee all of a sudden? Why didn’t you let me know earlier?”

“Uh, we’re just going to go pick Yoosung up and get breakfast with him since he has a couple finals to take later. I thought you knew…?”

“Why wasn’t I invited?” Saeyoung questions, feelings a bit hurt. 

“You were. It was brought up a few days ago in the messenger, but you weren’t online because you were busy avoiding Jumin, so you didn’t respond,” Saeran scratches the back of his neck, looks at the ground, then looks back up at Saeyoung. “You can still come if you want, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“You didn’t mention Jumin. Why isn’t he going?”

“He had a meeting or something… You can still come if you want,” The younger man offers with a shrug, to which Saeyoung shakes his head and gives a dismissive wave of one of his hands.

“Y’know, I think I’m good! Have fun!”

“Then I’m headed out.”

“Be safe, I love you!”

“Yeah, you too,” Saeran heads out of the kitchen, only to pop his head back into the room to give Saeyoung a playful glare and a warning. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

All Saeyoung can do is smile and call out as Saeran starts to leave; “No promises!”

~~~

Later that night, Saeyoung is glad that he did not make Saeran any promises before he left. 

He’s huddled up on the couch, wrapped in a plethora of fluffy blankets with his phone on the lowest possible brightness as he lurks in the chatroom. While not saying anything, he simply reads the interactions between Zen, Yoosung, Jaehee, and Jumin as they progress. The former three are telling the latter about their breakfast earlier that morning, while Saeran and Vanderwood are offline and in their rooms fast asleep.

Every time a message from Jumin pops up on the screen, Seven’s stomach twists in the best way possible. And, for the first time, he allows that feeling to possess him- smiles at it, even. His heart is beating hard and slow within the confines of his chest as a warm, fuzzy feeling takes over him. 

Jumin Han: It sounds like you all had fun. I’ll have to attend next time.

Yoosung★: You should come with us next time!

ZEN: No, he shouldn’t lol

Jumin Han: Why not?

ZEN: Jaehee shouldn’t have to see you more than she already does

Jaehee Kang: …I have no comment on the matter.

ZEN: Exactly!

ZEN: But I won’t say anymore, don’t wanna get Jaehee in trouble 

Jaehee Kang: I appreciate that ^^’

Jumin Han: Your opinions don’t affect Assistant Kang’s job performance, Zen.

ZEN: I can feel you being butthurt from here dude

Yoosung★: btb lplol is callonf!1!

Deciding to make his presence known, Seven starts to type.

707: Translation; brb lolol is calling!!!

Yoosung★ has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han: I’m not butthurt.

707: Well, Juju, since neither of us got to go today- we can always do our own thing together! (; Meow

Right below his first message, Seven sends one of the many cat photos he has in his gallery, knowing that it’s bound to make Jumin smile.

ZEN: What the hell dude!? You’ve been lurking for ten minutes and the first thing you do when you finally decide to talk is send a pic of some fur ball while flirting with the freaking trustfund kid?

707: It wasn’t flirting!

Jumin Han: Meow.

Jumin follows the message with a picture of Elizabeth 3rd, and then an outdated meme with a cat in it that he sends every once in a blue moon.

Jaehee: Pleases be careful, Zen has a very important performance tomorrow… T_T

ZEN: Yeah, I can already feel the congestion! You’re making my allergies act up ):< 

ZEN: You’ve been running rampant since Seven disappeared last week! 

Jumin Han: False.

Jaehee Kang: Excuse me.

Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom.

ZEN: Ugh, you two are so annoying sometimes! You better pray for my sinuses

ZEN has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han: …Ah. That was quick.

Jumin Han: And then there were two… Call me.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom. 

Saeyoung only sighs. Jumin didn’t even give him the chance to respond, so he figures he has no choice. 

707 has left the chatroom.

Gathering his courage, Seven calls Jumin for the first time in a week, and he isn’t surprised when he receives an immediate answer. 

“Yo, why’d you have me call you so suddenly?” He asks, fidgeting where he sits on his couch. Even with the static of the phone call filling one ear, the sound of rain falling outside yet again is audible. It’s the fourth heavy storm they’ve had in the past week; a telltale sign of spring transitioning into summer. “Everything good?”

“What, is it wrong for me to want to talk to you?” Jumin’s voice echoes on the other end, smooth and low and reeking of sleep.

“Not at all, it just caught me off guard after… Well, you know,” Albeit uncomfortably, he references the confrontation between the two of them from the night before. 

“Ah, yes… Well, that’s something we can sweep under the bridge, but that aside…” Jumin trails off. Nerves begin to bubble up in Saeyoung’s chest as he sits there in silence, waiting for Jumin to speak again. “You flirting with me. Quite a ridiculous concept from Zen, hm?”

Saeyoung’s heart drops in his chest. He didn’t think that Jumin would say anything about it, let alone so openly. The implication that it’s ‘ridiculous’ makes Seven frown at first, but then he forces a smile and tries his best to play it off. 

“Haha, yeah… Totally ridiculous!” Seven laughs along with Jumin, who is now chuckling. There’s an embarrassing sort of tension between them that he’s struggling to ease with no success. “He’s always had some weird ideas, though, don’t ‘cha think? Like those prophetic dreams of his!”

“Yes, of course…”

He expects Jumin to continue, but no such thing happens. It’s just eerily quiet. 

“Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?” He mumbles after a few moments too long. “I feel a bit awkward.”

“It’s just one of those nights, I suppose, but I don’t mind silence as long as it’s with you… I think we’ve always had that sort of comfortableness with each other, if you understand what I mean,” Seven’s jaw goes slack. He doesn’t even know how to respond. Is there a chance that Jumin likes him back? He considers it briefly before deciding that no, it’s too good to be true… They’re just really good friends, right? Because while Jumin is practically perfect in each and every way, Saeyoung considers himself the opposite. “...I’m sorry. Was that too direct?”

“N-No! I appreciate it, really, I just- what do you mean by that exactly?”

“What do you believe I meant?”

Saeyoung doesn’t answer- no, he can’t answer, fire roaring in his chest and in his throat as his heart beats a mile a minute. Once again, Jumin has backed him into a familiar corner that he has to talk himself out of. 

“...Never mind,” He clears his throat and wraps his blankets tighter around himself.  “How was your meeting this morning?”

“Just fine. I proposed that catbot idea of yours and got shot down by my father, but it was worth a try.”

“Heh, you really liked it that much?”

“I loved it.”

“Well, I’m flattered!”

“Are you going to bed soon?”

Seven’s eyebrows furrow at that. He wonders if Jumin is asking to gauge how much time they have left to talk or if Jumin is asking for some other reason he doesn’t know about yet. 

“Mm, probably not,” Seven yawns and rubs his eyes under his glasses, thinking about last night- thanks to that incident with Jumin, he didn’t get so much as a second of sleep. He’s tired now, so tired that he’s barely able to stay awake. “I haven’t been able to sleep that well lately.”

“Would you mind if I dropped by?”

“By my house? Again?” Saeyoung says without really thinking about it. “What for?”

“Just to see you. It seems as if neither of us are going to be asleep anytime soon anyways.”

“Okay, sure,” Saeyoung agrees even though he knows that, were Jumin to hang up and go to bed, he would do the same. He gets up with the blankets still wrapped over his shoulders to pace around the living room. “Why not? Come on over, Juju.”

He expects to get scolded for the nickname, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

“See you soon!”

With that, Jumin hangs up on him, so he assumes the older man is on his way over. It’s a long, painful wait that makes him so nervous it has him shaking a bit. His heartbeat is in his throat now as he walks the living room and stares at the ground. His entire body is on fire, and his mind is going wild with the images plaguing it. It’s past midnight. What could Jumin possibly be coming over for so late at night? With Seven’s recent realizations regarding his and Jumin’s relationship, he can’t help but think that Jumin’s intentions are less than platonic. Then again, that sounds too good to be true…

So, when he hears Jumin’s familiar knock on the door and the sound of his security system going off, he tries to act as normal as possible as he walks to the door and opens it. Only, the second he sees the other man, who is looking immaculate as ever while standing there half past midnight with an umbrella held over him, he finds himself speechless. He wants to drag Jumin in, to put him in warm clothes, to feed him good food and fall into bed with him on this turbulent, stormy night. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands there, sputtering and clinging to the door. These emotions that he’s so new to are rendering him completely and utterly helpless. On one hand, he can’t stand it, but on the other, the feeling of loving someone is intoxicating in the best way possible. Saeyoung thinks that, at this rate, he might drown in it.

After a humiliating amount of time standing there staring at each other, Jumin is the first to speak up.

“Am I allowed to come in, or…?” The older man trails off, clears his throat, and closes his umbrella.

“Oh, right! Sorry! Yeah, of course, here,” Snapped back to reality, Seven swings the door open so hard that it hits the wall next to it and makes a loud, horrible noise.

“Thank you,” Jumin says without so much as flinching as he steps into the living room. Seven shuts the door behind them and watches the corporate heir, who’s looking around and hanging his umbrella and suit jacket up on the coat rack in the entryway. “It’s dark…”

“Sorry, want me to turn the lights on?”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Jumin shakes his head and welcomes himself right in, walking ahead of Saeyoung and pacing around the living room before deciding to sit down right on the middle cushion of his couch. 

Seven just stands there, still in the entryway, bemused. Jumin is looking back at him from the couch, almost as if 

“Why are you here?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“Is your driver waiting outside?”

“No, I figured you’d drive me back if it were needed, so I told him to go home,” Jumin says nonchalantly. Normally, Seven would be a little taken aback by someone assuming he would be fine acting as a chauffeur, but he finds that since it’s Jumin, he doesn’t mind as much as he should. In fact, he finds it endearing. “I’ve heard that you’re an excellent driver. Then again, as I said, we’ll only have to put those skills to the test if they’re needed…”

“If they’re needed? Implying that you might stay over!?” Seven practically squawks.

His blanket falls off of his shoulders and onto the floor with a gentle plop. Meanwhile, Jumin is still sitting on the couch, now looking back at him with expectant obsidian eyes.

“Perhaps.”

“You know I don’t have a spare room for you, right? You would either be in my room or on the couch,” At that, Jumin doesn’t even blink, so Seven sits down next to him on the couch and continues. “Seems like you don’t care! Anyway, what do you wanna do? Watch a show? Play some games? Just lay around and talk? We could go eat or-”

“Is going driving on the table?”

“Driving?”

“In one of your cars. It seems like a perfect night for it,” Jumin shugs.

“What happened to not needing to put my skills to the test tonight?” Seven questions and stretches his arms upwards, cracking his back in the process. 

“I’m all for people being able to change their minds.”

“It’s pouring rain! You know I hate this weather,” Seven lets out a sigh of defeat and flexes his neck to crack it as well, followed by his knuckles. He leans a little too close and tosses an arm over Jumin’s shoulder to get closer to the man, who is impossibly warm. It takes everything in the hacker to keep talking rather than leaning into the heat. “But I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to see one of my babies in action. If you’re sure it’s a good idea, we can definitely go- I can even take you for food after!”

“I’d like that,” Jumin nods and stands up. Seven stands after him.  “Lead the way?”

Seven does as asked and, as quietly as he can, leads Jumin to his garage. It feels like they’re two teenagers sneaking around in the middle of the night instead of two grown men going for what teeters the line between a friendly outing and a date. When they enter the garage, safely escaping the potential wrath of Saeran or Vanderwood being woken up in the middle of the night, Jumin’s eyes scan over the array of sports cars.

“Which one do you like?”

Unsurprisingly, Jumin points to one of Saeyoung’s favorites, a brand new red convertible with tinted windows and a large sunroof. Saeyoung digs his massive keychain out of his pocket and uses the button to unlock the car before gesturing for Jumin to get in and going right after him. It’s just the two of them sitting in Saeyoung’s car, the redhead in the driver’s seat with the key in the ignition and Jumin in the passenger’s seat, looking more content than Saeyoung had ever seen him in his life. 

Neither of them have any idea where they’re going, and with that thought in mind, the hacker lets out a sigh of relief.

While Saeyoung would usually have the radio blasting obnoxiously loud music, he decides that it’s not needed. The noise is replaced by the sound of his heart beating in his head as he starts the car, opens the garage, and pulls out of it. When they get out onto the road, Saeyoung can’t help but notice just how quiet of a night it would be without the sounds created by the roaring thunderstorm- hell, not even Jumin is talking. The corporate heir has his arms crossed and resting on the power window, upper body slightly twisted so he can face the tinted glass to his right, which he looks out of with a dreamy gaze.

“You can roll the window down if you’d like,” Saeyoung offers with a chuckle and averts his gaze the second Jumin looks back at him. He’s glad that he’s the one driving; it gives him the perfect excuse to avoid eye contact. “You love this weather, don’t ‘cha? I can even open the sunroof.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to ruin your interior with all this rain falling.”

“It’s waterproof, I’ll wipe it down when we get back.”

“If you say so.”

Saeyoung takes that as permission and reaches over to roll all the windows in the car down and open the sunroof. The rain that pours down on them is surprisingly warm as it soaks through their clothes and splotches the front of Saeyoung’s glasses.

When they come onto an empty, rural road, Seven stops to look at the man next to him.

With his head out the window, rain pouring onto him, Jumin Han looks like a mix between a dream and a movie scene. His charcoal locks are drenched and laying flat against pale skin, that of which glows with the shine of the moonlight beaming down on them as they drive with Saeyoung going much faster than he should. For once, Jumin doesn’t seem to care- instead, he lets go, lets his eyes fall shut, and smiles. The tips of his ears, visibly seen through his soaked hair, are bright red, as are his cheeks and the end of his button nose. His lashes flutter with the wind and the raindrops that lace the curled tips, and suddenly, Saeyoung realizes he should be paying more attention to the road, so he does. He breaks his gaze away and stares at the seemingly endless path of tar-hued, slick roads and blackened sky through his windshield. 

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers to himself and does the sign of the cross over the chest.

“Is something wrong?” Jumin murmurs.

“No, not at all! Sorry, I was just… Um, thinking-” 

Thinking about how goddamn beautiful you are.

“Thinking?” Jumin inquires and pulls away from the window, now leaning back against the wet seat. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was just… Thinking about how hungry I am!”

“Oh, yes, you did mention potentially stopping for food, but…” Jumin, who had closed his eyes a few moments before, lazily opens one of them and gazes upon the redhead. “What kind of restaurants are going to be open at this time?”

“You’ve never been to a diner, have you?” Seven barks, to which Jumin blushes and runs a single hand through his damp hair. 

“I… Don’t believe I have.”

“Then I guess that’s where we’re going if you’re down. There’s a place not too far from here that has awesome pancakes!”

“I’m not opposed.”

With that, Saeyoung dares to drive a little faster and makes his way to the diner. Both of them are absolutely drenched in rain, and he can hardly see through the droplets on his glasses’ lenses, but he’s having the time of his life as thunder roars and lightning tears through the muggy sky. The rain gets heavier, heavier, and heavier, finally settling when they reach the diner that he had in mind. They pull in right in front of the little place, which is practically desolate, with an empty lot and flickering pink and blue lights. Through the windows, you can see the lone cashier and the lone waitress standing at the register, chatting away. 

After putting the windows and the sunroof back up, Seven parks and looks over at Jumin with a breathless chuckle before slapping his knee at the sight of the older man, who currently looks like a drowned cat.

“Jeez, Jumin, you’re soaked!”

“Ah, yes… I could’ve foreseen this,” Jumin mutters and loosens his tie before removing it completely and shrugging off his white button-up. Underneath is a plain white tank-top, something that Saeyoung never thought he’d see on Jumin’s body. Once again, he can’t help but think about just how perfect the corporate heir looks like this, cotton shirt clinging to his chest and back, arms and upper chest a wide expanse of toned muscles shifting under porcelain skin, collarbones light and delicate as they rise and fall with each and every steady  breath Jumin takes. The ravenette takes the seam of his tank top between two fingers, pulls at it, and lets go. The sopping wet material falls back against his skin with a plop sound that makes Seven laugh once more. “I should’ve brought a change of clothes.”

“I probably have some in the back for both of us, conveniently enough! I packed a few outfits for my last mission that I took this car for, though they aren’t fancy like you’re used to.”

“As long as they’re somewhat presentable, they’ll suffice.”

Taking that as acceptance of his offer, Seven parks the car and opens the trunk. They unbuckle and get out of the vehicle with the hacker grabbing a change of clothes for each of them, both outfits in a plastic grocery bag. He shuts the trunk and puts his keys in his pocket. 

As the two men stand there in the rain, Jumin gives him a baffled look, but he doesn’t say anything, so Seven grabs the other man by the hand and drags him inside to the diner. It’s past one in the morning when they slip into the diner and past the distracted waitress and cashier to go change in the men’s bathroom, which Jumin inevitably complains about the size and smell of the entire time. 

When they get out and slip back into the dining area with their wet clothing bags in hand, Saeyoung approaches the counter with Jumin in tow, awkwardly standing behind him.

“Table for two, please!”

The waitress quickly greets them and leads them to a corner booth by the windows. Oldies music plays through the static speakers as they sit down, Jumin choosing the spot that faces the door and Seven settling down next to him rather than across from him, wanting that closeness; that warmth he craves so desperately. Two menus are placed in front of them. When the waitress leaves them to their own devices to go talk to the cashier again, Jumin speaks.

“...These are different from what I’m used to,” Jumin pulls at the hoodie of Seven’s he’s wearing and looks down at the sweats that barely cling to his narrow hips. They certainly don’t match the long black socks and formal dress shoes that adorn the corporate heir’s feet, a fact that Seven can’t help but laugh at- at least until Jumin pulls the collar of the hoodie up to his nose. “They smell like you.”

“Huh,” Seven responds, unsure if Jumin’s comment is a good thing or a bad thing. 

On one hand, the corporate heir had smiled with this terribly sweet flush on his cheeks when he said it, but on the other hand, Zen also once told Seven that he smells like chips and two-day-old sweat, and V has subtly tried to hand him deodorant and cologne a handful of times throughout the years. Admittedly, from lack of knowledge and lack of time, even Seven himself can admit that his hygiene isn’t the best, and he suddenly finds himself self conscious of the fact as he sits there next to Jumin. He’s glad that, for once, he showered earlier that day to get his mind off of things.

“Could you help me navigate this menu?” Jumin requests. 

“Get the blackberry pancakes, you’ll like them… And when you get asked what you want to drink, don’t ask for wine or sparkling water, they won’t have either.”

“Then what do you suggest I ask for instead?”

“Water, chocolate milk, orange or apple juice, soda… Any of those are fine.”

Internally, Seven just prays that Jumin doesn’t try to order something terribly fancy or complicated. 

“Okay.”

“And the pancake plates come with two sides, eggs and either sausage or bacon. You have to tell them how you want your eggs cooked and whether you want sausage or bacon.”

“Sounds… Easy enough.”

Before anything else can be said, the waitress approaches them again with a smile on her face and a notepad and pen in hand. 

“Hello! How are you tonight?”

“Never been better, how about you?” Seven responds as smoothly as possible despite his anxiety suddenly spiking.

Are they on a date? This feels like a date. Why is Jumin so suddenly resting his head on Seven’s shoulder? The feeling of charcoal locks tickling his shoulder and the side of his neck makes goosebumps raise on his skin at the same time that all his body hair stands up. 

“I’m great! Can I get you two started with some drinks?” The waitress asks.

“A PHD Pepper for him and an orange juice for me, please,” Jumin orders drinks for both of them without missing a beat, which has Seven in shock. He honestly didn’t expect Jumin to pay enough attention to know what drink he orders from places like this. 

“Okay! Are you ready to order your food, or should I give you a few minutes to look at our menu?”

“I think we’re ready to order!” Seven answers, and as always when he goes to any food establishment, he feels his anxiety bubbling up in his chest when he has to order. Regardless, he forces himself to do it, staring down at the table the whole time and gripping the cloth of his pants a little too hard. “Can I get the strawberry crepes, just the crepes? I don’t want the sides.”

“Gotcha!” She nods, writes Saeyoung’s order, and then turns to Jumin. “And for you?”

“Blackberry pancakes with sausage rather than bacon, and I prefer my eggs poached… And could I get an additional side of hashbrowns?” Jumin orders without so much as pausing or stuttering, then grabs both of their menus to hand them to the waitress with a smile and a nod.

“Awesome, thanks guys! I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

When they get their drinks and their drinks and their food, it’s relatively quiet minus the background noise; the sounds from the kitchen crew’s utensils and pans clinking against surfaces as they work and wash dishes, the absentminded chatter of the waitress and the cashier, the retro music from when their parents were kids playing from the half-broken speakers, the occasional squeak of a rain-covered shoe sole on the checkered white and black tile floors, one of the staff members cleaning the red leather booths and light grey tables. 

Jumin cuts his pancakes into methodical, perfectly even sixteenths, cuts his sausage links into fourths, puts his poached eggs on top of his hashbrowns, and cuts open the whites so the runny yolks run over the pan-fried potato strips. He doesn’t eat the pancakes with syrup, just eats them as they are, and he eats each item one at a time; pancakes, sausage, poached egg whites, then the yolk-covered hashbrowns. Meanwhile, Seven scarfs down his crepes without using the knife to cut them, simply picking them up with his fork and taking bites out of them the best he can.

Compared to how neatly Jumin is eating, Saeyoung looks like an absolute mess, but the older man doesn’t seem to care. 

Occasionally, Saeyoung will stare at Jumin until the corporate heir stares back, which is when he gets embarrassed and stares down at his plate or gulps down drinks of his soda. They both finish their food decently fast, and when they put down their silverware, the waitress comes by with the check.

“I’ll pay,” Jumin says before Seven can so much as grab the book, but the redhead quickly objects.

“What? No! I’m the one who invited you- I should pay!” The redhead argues and reaches across the table for the book, only for Jumin to move the hand holding it so fast that he fails to grab it. 

“I’m the one who wanted to go out, and my food was more expensive than yours. This isn’t up for debate.”

Without another word, Jumin grabs his card from his wallet, takes the book to the front to pay, and comes back. Saeyoung is terribly uncomfortable with and unused to the idea of someone else paying his way, but it’s flattering and generous enough that he can’t help the ghost of a smile that takes over his lips. 

Jumin stands in front of where Seven is sat and offers the redhead a hand, so he takes it and stands, but doesn’t let go afterwards. He almost expects Jumin to let go of his hand as they walk out of the restaurant, so when that doesn’t happen, Seven interlaces their fingers and holds onto the other man’s hand even tighter.

When they get outside, the music from the speakers is still very much audible. Still, it surprises him when Jumin’s other hand is drifting to his waist and they’re suddenly swaying to the music together- almost like a couple. Saeyoung blushes and stares down at the ground.

“So, where to now? I can drop you back off at yours.”

“...I do miss Elizabeth 3rd,” Jumin starts. “But will you stay with me?”

“H-Huh?” Seven’s golden eyes snap up to meet Jumin’s charcoal ones, just to make sure he heard that right.

Did Jumin seriously just ask him to stay at his house?

“What? You had no issue with the concept of me staying at yours,” Jumin says nonchalantly, as if it doesn’t matter. 

“That- That was different!” Saeyoung exclaims, his entire body on fire.

“How so?”

“Well… Well, it was because it would be convenient since you were going to be over at my house! But me staying the night-”

“Well, we’ll both be at my penthouse, won’t we?” Jumin questions and uses the hand holding Saeyoung’s to twirl him where they stand on the rain-darkened concrete. The parking lot is empty, and the music is booming in his ears, though it’s not nearly as loud as his heartbeat. He debates on whether he should say no or not, because logically, they aren’t even dating or anything so why would he stay over there, but at the same time… The look on Jumin’s face as he pulls Saeyoung back into his chest is awfully convincing.

“I guess so? You absolutely baffle me sometimes…” Seven trails off. “Am I staying in the guest room?”

“Do you want to?” Jumin tilts his head.

“Is that an offer, or is it an attempt to interrogate me?”

“Maybe it’s both.”

The ravenette is leaning in a little too close, and his eyes peer into Saeyoung’s, almost as if he’s peering into the hacker’s soul. Saeyoung debates on how to respond as the thought of sleeping with Jumin crosses his mind. He imagines it, them cuddling together in the older man’s huge, fancy bed, Elizabeth 3rd laying between their feet, their skin pressed flush together, limbs intertwined, bodies covered in plush blankets. It nearly makes him shudder, but he stops himself.

“Then I’ll play along,” Seven breathes out. The feeling of Jumin being so close to him, wanting him… It’s absolutely dizzying, and he can’t help but want more of it. “I want to stay with you- not in your fancy guest room. How about it?”

“Heh, I’m not opposed to it,” Jumin chuckles, light and airy. “It’s nice to hear you being direct with what you want from me for once.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve already embarrassed me enough this week! No need to make it worse, man!” Seven playfully pushes his hands against Jumin’s chest, only for the ravenette to grab them and pull him back in.

“Oh, but it’s so much fun to tease you.”

A deafening silence falls that makes Saeyoung feel like he’s suffocating. The early morning drizzle falls upon them just right as they suddenly stop dancing, the music from the diner distant to their ears now. Jumin’s dark eyes are practically sparkling, and fuck, if he isn’t ethereal under the pale moonlight and soft-colored lights from the diner. His pale skin is beautifully highlighted by the pink and blue that beam down on him, and the shine of his hair reflects just right with every moonbeam that’s coming their way. Better yet, he’s staring at Saeyoung with that face, that gorgeous face that kills him every time; that intent, loving stare he just can’t break.

And Saeyoung knows that he’s not any different.

He isn’t sure who makes the first move, but despite them having started out at a reasonable distance from each other, they end up standing there with their clothed chests against one another, their shoulders bumping, and their noses brushing. 

Neither of them can so much as blink now, let alone swallow the tension that’s in the air, and suddenly, their lips are touching, too. It’s not a sensation akin to electricity like it’s described in all of the romance novels. Instead, it feels like relief. Right then and there, Saeyoung feels more grounded than he’s ever felt in his life. His body is going slack, he’s melting into it, into Jumin’s touch, and practically falls forwards when those long arms are wrapped around his waist. It’s almost as if the kiss lasts forever with Jumin’s lips tentatively moving over his and Jumin’s tongue skillfully raking over every inch of his mouth.

When they finally separate so Saeyoung can breathe, Jumin gives him a cocky smirk that’s all too familiar now. 

“...Let’s get back to your penthouse before you make me die of embarrassment.”

~~~

When they get back to Jumin’s penthouse, the kissing doesn’t stop. They speed walk from Saeyoung’s car to the penthouse, bodies and clothing damp from the light mist that the rain has died down to. They’re intertwined with each other when they reach the door with Jumin’s arms around Saeyoung and Saeyoung’s back against the door, both of them giggling like teenagers between kisses as Jumin unlocks the door to let them in.

Then, they tumble into the penthouse with Jumin shutting and locking the door behind them. Saeyoung is still giggly, but he manages to follow when he’s grabbed by the hand and led to Jumin’s bedroom, even if his footsteps are a little stumbly. He takes his shirt off before falling into the bed with Jumin crawling onto the mattress right next to him and taking the hacker back into his arms. 

They’re facing each other on the bed, lips locking with lips, hands roaming bodies, legs tangled up and arms around bodies like they never want to let go.

“Saeyoung,” Jumin starts between kisses, clearly out of breath.

“Yeah, Juju?”

“What are we?”

“Are we really gonna have this talk at three in the morning?” Seven laughs and breaks away from Jumin’s touch so he can turn over and face the wall, only for Jumin to turn over as well and wrap his arms around Seven’s waist from behind. The redhead sighs in relief at the warmth it gives him, then smiles when he feels Jumin’s face being buried in his bare back.

“I heard once that having serious conversations late at night is better because the other party is more likely to be honest.”

“Do you know why that is?” Seven asks and takes his glasses off to set them on the nightstand.

“Because exhaustion leads to lack of inhibition which makes it harder to contain private information?”

“Bingo!”

“It’s not like either of us have anything to contain from each other… You’re as aware of our situation as I am. You’re just skirting around it.”

“So what if I am?”

“Well, I’d rather you not be, but if you have to, I can respect that… So long as you explain why.”

“I guess we’re being bare bones here,” Again, Saeyoung breaks away from Jumin, this time by wriggling out of his arms and sitting up on the bed with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. Briefly, Elizabeth 3rd hops on the bed and rubs herself up against his side before trotting off to go lay on Jumin’s pillow. Meanwhile, Jumin sits up along with Saeyoung and puts a strong, grounding hand on his shoulder. “I’m scared of what happens when I get too attached for my own good and you end up leaving.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.”

“I’m scared of what happens when I get too attached for my own good and you end up getting hurt because of me.”

“Aren’t you already too attached for your own good?” Jumin says with a hint of a smile and moves a few stray locks of auburn hair out of Seven’s face. At that moment, Seven looks over at the man and forces himself to smile back despite the serious nature of their current conversation.

“Maybe I am, but if we cross this line, it’ll get much worse, and you… Maybe you’re older than me, and maybe you do understand how cutthroat life can be when it comes to business, but compared to me? You’re so good, so innocent, so kind, and the lifestyle I’ve led in the past will ruin you if it catches up to me.”

“Then leave it behind,” Jumin says it like it’s obvious, wraps his arms around Saeyoung the best he can, and rests his head in the crook between Saeyoung’s neck and shoulder. “Run away from it. It’s in the past now, it can’t hurt you anymore, and it most certainly can’t hurt me. I won’t let it.”

“Leave it all behind, huh? Like everything I’ve done won’t follow me for the rest of my life? Like it’s that easy?”

“It should be if you love me like you seem to. At least try for me.”

“I… I do,” Seven gulps, and suddenly, it feels like he’s swallowing sand as he sits there in Jumin’s room, half-asleep and warm and full of food with Jumin’s body so close to his. “I do love you.”

“And I you,” Jumin says it back without hesitating, lifts his head from Saeyoung, and kisses the hacker’s forehead ever so gently. “So much. I have for a long time. Be with me, or at least try to, no matter what gets in the way.”

Saeyoung can’t help but smile. Though Saeyoung hesitates, he eventually ends up replying.

“Alright.”

“Let’s go to sleep,” Jumin whispers, to which Saeyoung nods. They’re sitting there together under the ambient glow of Jumin’s nightstand, and for once, everything feels okay- no matter how scared he is, Jumin is there to guide him through it, and for the first time in over a week, Saeyoung knows he’s going to sleep well. “We can talk about this some more in the morning. All you need to know right now is that I love you.”

“Heh,” Saeyoung laughs as they crawl underneath the covers together. “I love you, too.”

[scrawnytreedemon]

i have no other characters that come to mind so here's the obvious one because of course it is gdfhjkgjhh sephiroth?

LOOK WE LOVE OBVIOUS AROUND HERE, especially when obvious is Such A Clusterfuck. My only worry would be rehashing stuff I and fandom as a whole have hashed already and have it be redundant, buthgjhgjhgk I managed to find something new with PK, I'm sure I could do it here.

There is a notable split in how Sephiroth perceives and interacts with the world pre and post Nibelheim— An understatement, to say the least—However one thread I think that remains is that Sephiroth is probably very possessive when it comes to who he loves.

Growing up, I think it's painfully clear to most people that Sephiroth had little to no agency: he was company property, and repeatedly put under the jurisdiction of a father who routinely abused and dehumanised him under the guise of 'work'. As a public figure, there is no doubt that his privacy was violated and his body continued to be policed, even as he grew into adulthood.

I say all of this, because when you are put in a situation where you have been so disempowered and denied anything of your own, that when you do finally get it, you hold.

From the outside, I'd say that pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth's understanding of family is the understanding alot of familial abuse survivors walk away with: that family isn't who you were born into, but who you choose. And yet, funny still how he meets Genesis and Angeal through their mutual tenure as child supersoldiers; that not even this is really free from Shinra's hand. Even still, good things can come from shitty situations— Even if you might not process them as such.

That notion is shattered when the pair desert, without so much as a 'goodbye'. Sephiroth is left to pick up the pieces, and he withers. It's commented on in-game by none other than Angeal, if memory serves.

Sephiroth's found family is swept from under him, and he is left with nothing but the faint, childish hope of a biological mother; someone that would really have loved him, would have protected him, nurtured him unconditionally.

And he gets that.

In exchange for Everything.

There are a number of ways to analyse Sephiroth's relationship with Jenova— The most intuitive being to treat Jenova as an autonomous figure with influence over Sephiroth, in a very human manner.

I personally don't jive with this interpretation for a number of reasons: it often underplays Sephiroth's agency, and Jenova is made into a Wicked Mother archetype, which I feel diminishes the fact that this is a cosmic planetary parasite, eons old, with no gender or loyalty to human emotions— It mimics them only so much as a hunter mimics the sounds or scents of its prey. I feel it does Jenova a disservice to put a clamp on that and reduce them to something almost... petty(?) when their role is far more equivalent to Sephiroth's God. This is my opinion, not the holy grail. I bring it up, though, because it colours how I go about all of this.

When Sephiroth dies, plunging into the Lifestream with the dessicated remains of Jenova's half-dead head, they fuse. Sephiroth becomes Jenova and Jenova becomes Sephiroth; there is no separating the two. Sephiroth has not only met his mother, connected with her, but become her.

Sephiroth is Their own mother.

And as a Mother, great and powerful, older than the meagre rock of this infant Planet, it is Their job to set things right; to make amends; to cast Judgement.

Sephiroth routinely treats the rest of the cast as dimwitted children, either to be used or ignored— Dealt with, maybe, if they step out of line. And yet, there's a glee in revenge; in tormenting this one, shell-shocked man who dared to stab Them with Their own Masamune in the back, right before They were to set out on such glorious purpose.

They go out of their way to fuck with, demean, and infantilise Cloud on a level just... so fucking visceral, words fail to describe it.

Their more-than hatred has consumed Them so much, that it's the only thing They can remember when They are killed for the second time.

And from the shattered pieces of others' memories, They create three vessels: Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo; all of them doomed to be but shadows of a shadow, denied existence of their own.

It's in Advent Children that Cloud's familial connection to Sephiroth is made explicit. The Remnants all call him 'big brother', a title also reserved for Sephiroth. They are of the same nature, the same blood, and Cloud cannot deny that, he cannot deny that Sephiroth's cells live on in his body and that they are his as much as Theirs— Barring the speculated fusion between Sephiroth and Jenova, how do you get more intimate than that?

This leadup is hella long, but I think you get the gist: Sephiroth has been denied intimacy and has lost it time and time again, so when he finally gets something, he clutches it so hard and builds his literal sense of self around it.

From here on out, I'll be theorising.

I feel like even pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth, in the event he were to find himself with children, would get extremely protective to the point of possession. They're his, and he's not letting anyone near them. I could see that being the thing he finally needs to snap out of that Shinra-induced malaise, and run. He wouldn't let them do to them what was done to him— Wouldn't let him do to them what he did to him.

What I think would follow in the aftermath of this, is that the family are forced to keep a low profile. Sephiroth is a firm but gentle parent, compassionate even if untrained. He's devout as devout gets; it feels like some hole in him as been filled. It's a thing alot of parents get, especially if they felt like they were just lifelessly drifting by before. Sephiroth is purpose-driven— Needs it, breathes it, lives life from task to task to grand overarching plan. His kids become his everything.

The issue with that arises is there is such a thing as holding a child so tight your crush their bones. What contact the children have with other people is inconsistent, and they end up sheltered; literally, in this case. This could be further compounded depending on how much Sephiroth decides to tell them; whether he thinks the knowledge is vital, or if they'd be better off unknowing. Innocent.

Free, perhaps.

Sephiroth is opaque. Sephiroth is kind, and Sephiroth is good, but Sephiroth is opaque. Sephiroth doesn't tell them why they can't play with the other kids down the road with undyed hair. Sephiroth loves and Sephiroth hurts and Sephiroth struggles to reconcile with the harsh truth of both of those. Sephiroth is opaque.

He doesn't know if they're even alotted the morrow.

Post-AC, and really, post-OG, metawise, is where I'm more familiar— If you're a viewer of my written work, then I'm sure much of this will ring a bell.

I'm gonna be real, here, and I've said this in the notes at the bottom of a fic before, but I think now's when I can elaborate, I've never gotten why people would place Cloud as the Remnants' mother in parent-child dynamics.

Sephiroth made them out of the fabric of their own being, I don't think you can get any more maternal than that. And! If you're like me, and fond of the fusion theory, then Sephiroth is the Mother Kadaj reaches out for time and time again, unaware that She is the big brother he so hates. It's a cruel, cruel fucking irony where Kadaj doesn't realise that the brother he's competing for his Mother's love is what made him; is his Mother.

It's intimate in a way I feel is so neglected.

I feel like even in a 'nice' scenario (á la "Mother by Memory" and "Love is a Blanket (And it Weighs Heavily)"), where Sephiroth takes their three gremlins and kisses them all affectionately on the head and professes how deeply they love them with every bit of their being, the fact remains that Sephiroth has an issue with possession and control. They will brush aside discomfort and even violate boundaries if they deem it 'fit'. LiaB ends on the note of Kadaj feeling creeping dread in his mother's arms, as they tell him he shall be reborn, from the beginning, as the blanket is drawn and the lamp switched off. This, I think, is the crux of Sephiroth's character— Especially post-Nibelheim —Where they will do anything to have control and then justify that control with whatever they can muster.

Sometimes it's that the world is sick and They are to cast it down, other times it's to assure their child that all will be well, and that to start anew is to start freed.

There's a large, and complicated, convoluted, confused role that Cloud plays in all of this. There are many moments where Sephiroth sees him as a tool, an enemy, a worthy rival, a brother, an almost-lover and an almost-child: and many where he's most at the same time. With how the dynamic has grown more, and more, and more obsessive over the years on Sephiroth's end... it almost feels like he's struggling to choose.

Struggling what to think of Cloud.

What would be closest.

Most divine.

All of it culminating in that bit in the Remake where he truly, earnestly, genuinely offers Cloud an opportunity for what he sees as the only way out.

That he'll preserve him.

Keep him safe no matter what.

That's the closest thing Sephiroth has had to love in a very, very, very long time.

...

I think, for Sephiroth, family is keeping; keeping by blood, and if there's no blood, then Sephiroth will give it. Sephiroth will hold the cup of communion to your lips, and force you to swallow down at least half, because fucking hell, half is better than nothing at all.

This is the closest thing he has to love.

[biboybuckley]

when you hide that your heart is just holding on

from this prompt list: 55. After, being punched by Chimney and not telling the truth about what happened to Hen, Bobby and Athena. But, that doesn't mattte, they still find out that Chimney. When they ask why he didn't tell them. Buck replies that he thought it wouldn't matter because it's not the first that someone has been physical with him. Which in turn makes Bobby pale and take a step back when he realizes that Buck is talking about him.When he remembers that he pinned Buck to the wall in 2018 when caught snooping through his notebook/black book.

do i have homework to do? yes. do i have fic requests to finish? also yes. did i write this instead? i have no regrets. side note: the italics didn’t copy/paste and i am far too tired to do it so imagine them wherever you see fit. (they’re on the ao3 one)

(also on ao3)

Buck tries to keep his head down as he walks into the firehouse. He knows he can’t hide the ugly bruise on the side of his face all day, but he can at least put off the confrontation for a little while. Eddie knows, but Buck trusts him not to tell anyone. The issue is, Buck doesn’t even know what he’s going to tell them. He doesn’t want to explain the entire situation. Because in this situation, he’s at fault. And the very last thing Buck wants is the 118 mad at him. Again. 

Yesterday, Eddie had (very gently) basically told Buck that he had fucked up. And yeah, Eddie acknowledged he had the right intentions. But that doesn’t change the fact that Buck made the wrong choice and actually just made everything he was trying to fix worse. Well- Eddie didn’t exactly say that precisely, but he might as well have. And if Eddie thinks Buck messed up, what are the rest of them gonna think?

“Buck!” Athena’s voice snaps him out of his mental spiral and Buck looks up at the balcony, trusting his baseball cap to conceal the evidence of his failure. “Hey sweetie, food’s all ready up here! Put your stuff away and get your ass to the table!”

“Be- be right there, Athena!” Buck calls, hoping his smile is believable. So much for avoiding them. Maybe he can still make it through breakfast. He’ll just keep his cap on and his head down. It’ll be fine. Everyone has other things to worry about anyway. 

Buck jogs up the stairs a couple minutes later, his stuff shoved in the locker he and Eddie share. His cap is still firmly tucked on his head and he’s making a point to look down at the steps in front of him instead of up towards where everyone’s already at the table. That’s not something anyone will question. If anything, they’ll praise him for finally looking where he’s going. He’s tripped up the stairs enough times for that. 

“So he didn’t say when he’s coming back?” Eddie’s asking when Buck sits down next to him. Someone already served him a plate of eggs, toast, and hash browns. There’s strawberry jam on his toast, his favorite, so he assumes that he has Eddie to thank. He doesn’t say anything, just starts digging in and trusts everyone is preoccupied enough with Chim’s absence to pay him any mind. 

“No, just that it wouldn’t be until he finds Maddie,” Hen replies. 

“If he finds her,” Buck mutters before he can stop himself. The table goes silent. Eddie’s hand lands on his knee and squeezes gently. 

“He will, Buck.” Eddie’s voice is so horribly soft, like he knows the terror that’s been encompassing Buck’s mind, the fear that’s kept him up at night: that he made the wrong choice and Maddie’s suffering alone because of it. Buck doesn’t deserve the kindness Eddie offers, or the comfort. He moves his knee away. A wounded expression flashes across Eddie’s face and Buck pointedly ignores it, focusing instead on stuffing his mouth. He can tell without looking that the rest of the table is exchanging glances. So much for not drawing attention. 

But Buck always has to be the center of attention, doesn’t he? He has to be the one diving headfirst into danger. He has to be the one to fix everything. He somehow manages to make everything about himself. Eddie’s shooting, Maddie’s leaving. Somehow, no matter who’s in trouble, Buck just has to make it about himself. He can hide behind the excuse of saving people or wanting to help, but what it comes down to is that Buck needs attention. 

He doesn’t deserve comfort. He deserves for someone, anyone, to finally tell him off for always having to be the center of attention. 

Bobby clears his throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence that’s settled over the table. Buck feels like shit for ruining the meal, but, yet again, he just couldn’t help but make it about himself. 

You should just leave, the voice in his head whispers, they’d probably be better off. Buck clenches his jaw and tries to focus on something else. Suddenly, selfishly, he wishes Eddie’s hand was still on his knee. Eddie always helps ground him.

“I’m sure Maddie’s fine and she and Chim will be back soon,” Bobby says placatingly. “And Buck, you know the rules, no hats at the table.” Buck freezes. 

“I, uh…” He’s slightly panicking. He’s already made this about himself so much, they don’t need to see any more proof of how self-centered Buck really is. He stares hard at his plate. “Can I just- can I leave it on today?”

“Buck, no exceptions,” Hen pipes up. Buck knows she’s thinking about that one time that bBuck said those exact words to her when she wanted to leave a beanie on after Nia found a sharpie and used a napping Hen’s head as her canvas. “Why don’t you wanna take it off?”

No avoiding it now. Buck takes a deep breath and pulls off the cap, running a hand through his hair and not looking at anyone. He hears Hen’s intake of breath and can sense Bobby and Athena’s disappointment without even looking at them. Eddie’s knee nudges his. Buck doesn’t nudge back. 

“What happened?” Bobby asks. 

Buck shrugs. “It’s not important.”

“Boy,” Athena says, “if someone gave you a shiner that bad, it better be important.”

“It was just a disagreement,” Buck insists. He attempts at a grin. “You should see the other guy.”

“You got in a fight?” Athena demands, standing up with her hands braced on the table. 

“No, I’m just- just kidding, don’t worry. It wasn’t a fight, I just-”

“He got suckerpunched,” Eddie cuts in. Buck shoots him a glare. Shut up. 

“It’s not like I didn’t deserve it,” Buck mutters. 

Bobby waves a hand, indicating for everyone to stop talking. “Who the hell suckerpunched you?”

“I mean I can name a few people who’d like to but none that actually would,” Hen adds. Buck frowns at her, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. Make a joke out of it and it’ll go away. Right?

“Seriously, Buck,” Bobby presses, “who hit you?”

Buck sighs. “Listen. It’s not a big deal. I deserved it, I got it. It happened and I honestly just don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t Taylor was it?” Hen looks like she regrets asking, but judging by the others’ reactions, it’s not just her thinking it. Eddie tenses next to Buck. Something dark and ugly twists in Buck’s chest and suddenly his throat is tight. They all think Taylor did this? Even Eddie, who knows it was Chim, seems to have had that idea at some point. 

“N-no, god no,” Buck insists quickly, but his voice is tight. “No. Taylor didn’t- no. It wasn’t Taylor.” 

“Buck…” There’s a strange tone to Bobby’s voice, one that kinda makes Buck want to throw up. He grips his hands into a ball under the table. 

“It was Chim,” Eddie says finally, sighing. “Chim punched him.”

“Eddie!” 

“Buck, c’mon, I had to-”

“Why the hell did Chim punch you?” Hen demands. Athena raises a brow and Bobby just taps his thumbs together, staying silent. Waiting for Buck to reply. 

Here it is. They’re all going to hate him. 

“For something that’s in the past now,” Eddie cuts in before Buck can say anything. “It was a mistake, but it’s okay. Chim knows it wasn’t on purpose, and I don’t see any reason to drag it out further, so maybe we just… let it go.”

Buck has never been more grateful for Eddie. Buck has never hated himself more. 

“Uh, uh no way-”

Bobby interrupts Hen’s protests. “I think that’s fair. This sounds like a personal issue and if Buck doesn’t want to discuss it, we’re not going to force it.” Buck lets out a slow, shaky breath of relief. “But… if it truly isn’t an ongoing issue, then I think we have a bigger one.” 

Yeah Buck was definitely relieved too soon. “What, uh,” he clears his throat, “whaddya mean?”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” 

Something icy shoots down Buck’s spine. He doesn’t want to tell them the real reason- that if he told them everything they’d hate him for it. He also doesn’t want to lie to them. So, instead, he opens his big mouth and makes a joke without thinking.

“Eh, I didn’t think it would matter. Not like it’s the first time someone’s gotten physical with me.” He tries for a grin but realizes too late that his joke wasn’t actually funny. Given by the way everyone freezes, he’s gonna guess they’re considerably more concerned than amused. 

“Buck…” Eddie starts slowly, “what do you mean by that?”

Buck automatically glances at Bobby and sees that his captain has gone pale. He knows what Buck meant. And Buck is a horrible person for it. 

“I didn’t- it was just a- I- I was joking,” Buck stammers out. “I didn’t mean-”

“He was talking about me,” Bobby says quietly, his voice as calm as ever. 

“Bobby, no I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Yes, son, you did.”

Buck feels close to tears. God, why does he fuck everything up? That was years ago, and Buck deserved it. He had it coming. He pushed Bobby and Bobby just reacted. It wasn’t an actual thing, and Buck hadn’t even meant it as anything other than a joke. But, again, he’s fucked it all up and opened wounds that had healed long ago. He doesn’t help people or fix people or save people. He breaks them. 

“I have to go,” Buck mutters, pushing back his chair and almost tripping as he makes a break for it, tears burning his eyes. He prays to god no one comes after him, taking the stairs two at a time. 

Why would they? The voice in his mind asks. They’re probably hoping you just stay away.

Buck tightens his jaw, dashes a hand across his cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped, and makes a beeline for the bunks. The best way to stop fucking things up is to just not be there. 

*

Buck’s late for their shift. Which- well it’s only a few minutes. Buck’s not extremely well known for his punctuality. But after yesterday, Eddie’s worried about him. He knows Buck’s still beating himself up over Chim and Maddie. Eddie had done his best to reassure Buck yesterday, to make him understand that he hadn’t done a bad thing. He doubts it got through. He should have tried harder. And well. That’s something Eddie will probably beat himself up over for a bit. He’s never been great at comforting people and he hates that he can’t help them more.

So when Buck slips into the firehouse with a cap pulled over his hair and his head ducked, Eddie can’t help but feel partially responsible. He doesn’t wanna be the one to put Buck on the spot, but he also knows he can’t let Buck spiral on his own. 

“Hey,” he says, nodding to Athena. “Looks like Buck’s here.” It works instantly. 

Athena walks over to the railing and leans out, calling Buck’s name. Buck looks up, but with the cap pulled over his forehead and the distance between them, Eddie can’t see the status of his bruise. He hopes it’s not as bad as it was yesterday. “Hey sweetie, food’s all ready up here! Put your stuff away and get your ass to the table!”

There’s a hesitation to Buck’s response. “Be- be right there, Athena!” Eddie lets out a small breath of relief. A part of him thought Buck might come up with some excuse not to join them. Everyone else is already serving themself so Eddie gets in line behind hen and grabs two plates. 

“He’s a big boy, y’know,” Hen teases. “He can serve himself.”

Eddie shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t mind. I know what he wants anyway.”

“Suit yourself.”

So Eddie does. He serves Buck’s plate first. Scrambled eggs, one piece of toast, strawberry jam. The strawberry jam is Buck’s favorite. He just gets eggs for himself. Then he walks to the table and places the plates at the only two spots left, side by side. His and Buck’s. 

“I talked to Chim this morning,” Hen says once they’re all settled. “Offered to go with him, but he didn’t take me up. Says he has to be the one to find Maddie.” 

“Did he say anything else?” Eddie asks, wondering if he mentioned Buck and Chim’s altercation.

“Nope. Why?”

Eddie thinks quickly for a reason, and only comes up with, “So he didn’t say when he’s coming back?” Buck walks up as he’s asking and takes his seat beside Eddie. His eyes flick from his plate to Eddie quickly and the corner of his mouth bends upwards just a little bit. Eddie tries not to stare too hard at him, but the cap is still pulled low over his forehead and Eddie really wants to check on his eye. 

He’s so focused on Buck’s presence that he almost misses Hen’s reply. “No, just that it wouldn’t be until he finds Maddie.”

“If he finds her,” Buck says quietly. Everyone goes quiet and Eddie’s chest achesUnder the table, he sets his hand on Buck’s knee and squeezes it. He knows Buck blames himself for Maddie being gone and that if she’s anything other than okay, Buck will never forgive himself for it. Eddie wants to tell him that it wasn’t Buck’s fault. He wouldn;t have been able to stop her. No one could have stopped Maddie from leaving. But he can’t do that. 

“He will, Buck,” Eddie reassures him instead. Buck doesn’t say anything, or even look at Eddie. He just moves his knee away from Eddie’s touch. Eddie can’t help the twinge of hurt that stabs in his chest. He just wants to help, to comfort Buck somehow. To take him in his arms and tell him until he believes it, it wasn’t your fault. And it’s killing him that he can’t. 

The rest of the table exchanges worried glances, Bobby and Athena seemingly having an entire silent conversation. Hen raises an eyebrow at Eddie in question and Eddie just sighs softly and shakes his head a little. 

Finally, Bobby clears his throat, breaking the spell. “I’m sure Maddie’s fine and she and Chim will be back soon. And Buck, you know the rules, no hats at the table.” Buck tenses beside Eddie, almost imperceptible aside from the fact that Eddie is so in tune with how Buck works that he notices everything. 

“I, uh…” There’s a slight hint of panic in Buck’s voice. “Can I just- can I leave it on today?”

Hen finally gets her revenge for that time Buck was a shit about her wearing a beanie. “Buck, no exceptions. Why don’t you wanna take it off?”

Buck inhales, almost as if he’s steeling himself, and pulls off the cap, running a hand through his hair. He stares at the table in front of him. Eddie finally gets a look at the injury and his breath catches in his throat. The mark has purpled, dark and ugly under Buck’s eye and crawling up towards his temple. Eddie nudges his knee. I’m here. Buck doesn’t return it. 

“What happened?” Bobby asks. 

Buck shrugs. “It’s not important.”

“Boy,” Athena says, “if someone gave you a shiner that bad, it better be important.”

“It was just a disagreement,” Buck insists. The grin Buck plasters on is fake and hollow. “You should see the other guy.” Something twists in Eddie at the attempt to make a joke of this.

“You got in a fight?” Athena demands, standing up with her hands braced on the table. 

A regretful expression flickers across Buck’s features, a miniscule change. “No, I’m just- just kidding, don’t worry. It wasn’t a fight, I just-”

Eddie can’t help it. He can’t stay silent and let Buck make light of this any more than he can let Buck struggle through it alone. “He got suckerpunched.” He can feel Buck’s glare burning into the side of his face.

“It’s not like I didn’t deserve it,” Buck mutters. Eddie wants to grab him and shake him and scream You didn’t! 

Bobby waves a hand, indicating for everyone to stop talking. “Who the hell suckerpunched you?”

“I mean I can name a few people who’d like to but none that actually would,” Hen adds. A playful frown turns Buck's lips down, the pout he uses when he’s turning something painful into a joke. 

Bobby isn’t so easy to distract. “Seriously, Buck, who hit you?”

“Listen,” Buck says with a sigh. “It’s not a big deal. I deserved it, I got it. It happened and I honestly just don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t Taylor was it?” Eddie freezes. He can’t believed Hen said it. It’s what Eddie had thought yesterday when Buck opened the door with a bruise blooming on his cheek. But Eddie’s never liked Taylor, he had just thought he was being biased. Yet the expressions on Bobby and Athena’s faces have him thinking maybe it’s not just him.

“N-no, god no,” Buck says quickly, looking pale. “No. Taylor didn’t- no. It wasn’t Taylor.” He didn’t say she wouldn’t, a part of Eddie notes. 

“Buck…” Bobby’s using that soft, concerned Dad tone. Buck looks trapped and under the table, Eddie can see his hands clenched together tightly. 

“It was Chim,” Eddie tells them, unable to stand watching Buck struggle anymore. “Chim punched him.”

“Eddie!” The accusatory tone of Buck’s voice makes Eddie wince slightly, but he doesn’t regret it.

“Buck, c’mon, I had to-”

“Why the hell did Chim punch you?” 

Again, Buck looks like a deer caught in headlights. And, well, Buck’s probably already upset with him. So, really, he might as well. 

“For something that’s in the past now. It was a mistake, but it’s okay. Chim knows it wasn’t on purpose, and I don’t see any reason to drag it out further, so maybe we just… let it go.”

Hen starts shaking her head, making little tsking sounds with her tongue. “Uh, uh no way-”

“I think that’s fair,” Bobby says, holding a hand up to stop Hen. Thank God for Bobby. “This sounds like a personal issue and if Buck doesn’t want to discuss it, we’re not going to force it. But… if it truly isn’t an ongoing issue, then I think we have a bigger one.” 

“What, uh, whaddya mean?”

Bobby levels him with a steady stare. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?” 

Something almost scared glints in Buck’s eyes, but then he’s grinning and saying, “Eh, I didn’t think it would matter. Not like it’s the first time someone’s gotten physical with me.” Everyone freezes. Eddie can see the confusion on Athena’s face, the stricken expression on Hen’s, and on Bobby’s… guilt. Why the fuck does Bobby look guilty right now?

Eddie speaks slowly, reigning himself in. “Buck… what do you mean by that?”

Buck’s eyes flick, quickly, to Bobby. Bobby, who’s gone pale. Bobby, who looks guilty. Bobby, who hurt Buck. Eddie tastes something metallic and realizes he’s bit his tongue so hard he broke skin. His fists are clenched and he’s barely able to control his breathing. He needs answers. 

“I didn’t- it was just a- I- I was joking. I didn’t mean-” Buck stammers, looking panicked. Eddie’s torn between pulling him into a hug and punching something. Maybe, it seems, Bobby. 

In contrast to Buck’s shaking words, Bobby’s voice is collected as ever.“He was talking about me.” Eddie can barely breathe. 

“Bobby, no I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Yes, son,” Bobby says sadly, “you did.”

Buck looks panicked, like he might cry, or maybe even throw up. He stands up abruptly, stumbling back.“I have to go.” And then he makes a break for the stairs, dashing down them so fast Eddie worries he might trip. He doesn’t. Eddie stands up, ready to go after him. 

“Eddie, don’t,” Bobby says quietly. “Give him a minute.”

Eddie rounds on Bobby. He knows he’s right, but he doesn’t have to like it. “How about you give me a Goddamn explanation, Cap?” It’s strange, Eddie thinks, being so mad at the man he considers a father figure. He never knew he could feel this way towards Bobby, who’s given him so much and been nothing but kind to him. Bobby, who’s offered him a home, a family. Bobby, who Eddie would lay down his life for and who would do the same for Eddie. Bobby, who hurt Buck. And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s all it takes. He hurt Buck. And that’s all the reason Eddie needs. 

“Why don’t you sit down, Eddie?” Bobby says softly. 

“Why don’t you explain what the fuck Buck meant by that?”

Bobby sighs heavily and Athena reaches over to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Buck was- well, you know how Buck can get. Back in 2018, he- he had a question. One I really didn’t want to answer. And he had… he’d snooped through something very personal to me. A book. With 148 spaces. A space for every person I killed, to fill with someone I saved. When he was asking me about it, I… I got mad. I reacted.”

“What do you mean, you reacted?” Eddie demands through gritted teeth. His fists are nearly shaking. He feels like a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap. 

“I-,” Bobby sighs, bowing his head. “It was not a proud moment for me. I was in a bad place, I-”

“What did you do?”

“I grabbed him and I shoved him against the wall. I told him to never do that again. And then I let him go and I left.”

Eddie can see it in his mind: Buck following Bobby as they walk, asking him questions like an overeager puppy. Admitting he had looked at Bobby’s book. Then, in a flash, Bobby’s fists on Buck’s collar, Buck shoved against the wall, Bobby’s furious face inches away as he threatens him. The expression on Buck’s face, like he can’t quite understand what’s happening. The fear in his eyes as something deep in his mind is triggered. The horror that he must have felt when he couldn’t run. The numbness that overtook him when Bobby let him go.

Eddie knows it reminded Buck of those times as a child. Those times Buck would push too far and his parents would see getting physical as the only way to get their point across. Those times Buck’s father would grab his shoulders hard enough to leave marks and shake him as he yelled. That time his mother got so upset that, without hardly thinking, she struck him across the face. All those times that the only way his parents believed they could get through to him was by making sure he’d remember the punishment. 

It never got, like… abusive, Buck had said when he told Eddie, it was only the few times they felt they had no other choice. It wasn’t even a regular thing. Just when they needed their points to really… stick, I guess.

Eddie felt similarly then to how he does now, rage so strong in his chest and throat that he thought he might pass out. Anger so pure he could have put his fist through a wall. Sorrow so intense he was on the verge of tears. And a deep, deep hurt. The kind that came with hearing that the person you loved the most had suffered and not being able to do anything about it. 

But Eddie can’t punch Bobby any more than he can Buck’s parents. He can’t do anything to fix what they shattered. 

“That’s fucked, Bobby,” Eddie says finally, his voice hushed and hoarse with rage. “You’re his superior. He was your subordinate, and more than that- he trusted you. He looked up to you!” Eddie’s voice rises with his words until he’s nearly yelling.

“I know, Eddie,” Bobby whispers, looking like he might cry himself. “I’ve hated myself for it for years, I;ve told myself every foul thing you can think, of, believe me. It was just- he had gone too far Eddie-”

“That gives you no right to lay a single fucking finger on, him Bobby!” Eddie snaps, infuriated at the insinuation that this had somehow been Buck’s fault. Knowing Buck blamed himself still.

“Eddie, maybe you should calm-” 

“No,” Bobby says, interrupting Hen. “He’s right. And I am sorry, Eddie. It was inappropriate and just plain wrong, and I will forever regret it.”

“Right,” Eddie says quietly. He fixes his stare on Bobby. “But have you ever told him that?” Bobby lets out a long sigh, bowing his head, and Eddie turns away. He has to find Buck. 

*

Buck’s sitting on a bunk staring at his hands. He’s been here for a while. If you asked him what he’s been thinking about, he couldn’t tell you. Really, it’s just been a barrage of self-destructive and deprecating thoughts. It’s nothing that’s not true, just not a particularly fun spiral to be having. And it’s a mess. He can’t pinpoint his thoughts exactly. It’s more like a dozen voices all screaming different things at him. 

You’re a failure, one says.

You make people worse, accuses another.

You’re selfish, an attention-seeking, self-centered, narcissist, hisses one more. On and on it goes, cruel thought after cruel thought until Buck’s all but numb. So he stares at his hands, he tries no to cry, and he begs his mind to stop the assault. 

“Buck.” 

Oh god no, Buck thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. His own voice he can handle. But if the hatred manifests as Eddie, it’ll break him. He presses his fists against his temples, bending further over. 

“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “Please, stop it, no.” He’s shaking his head and his entire body is rocking slightly. 

“Buck.” This time, a hand lands on his knee. Buck forces his eyes open. It’s actually Eddie. Eddie’s kneeling in front of him, a hand squeezing his leg and the other coming up to grip his wrist, pulling his own hand away from his head. 

“Eddie,” Buck says quietly. Eddie’s fingers find the inside of Buck’s wrist, gently finding his pulse and pressing softly. Grounding him. The voices grow quieter, the screaming in his mind turning to a whisper. Eddie’s always been good at that. 

“Hey,” Eddie greets gently, dark eyes searching Buck’s. “What’re you thinking?”

“That you’re good at grounding me,” Buck says without thinking. He’s too tired to filter himself. 

Eddie’s heart flip flops at the admission, his chest tingling. He can’t help but grin softly. Buck’s pulse flutters under his touch. His anger is gone, replaced with the warmth of Buck. “Good to know. I try my best. What were you thinking about before?”

“I don’t… I don’t exactly know. A lot of things.”

Bad things. 

“You wanna talk, listen, or neither?”

It’s a system they developed a while ago. Whenever one of them is struggling, they get a choice. They can talk about it, they can listen to the other talk, or they can just exist together for a while. It works, most of the time. 

Buck swallows, looking down at their hands. Eddie’s fingers against Buck’s wrist. Eddie’s thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “Listen.”

“Bobby told me what happened a few years ago.” Buck tenses. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“How you figure? I was the one pushing him. I was the one snooping through shit that wasn’t my business.”

“He’s your captain. A superior officer. There is no scenario in which him doing that was okay, Buck. You’re his subordinate. There was no excuse. It was his fault.”

“I was asking for it,” Buck says immediately. And that… that sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. 

“Buck, look at me.” He hesitantly lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s and Eddie’s thumb brushes over his knuckles. “You were not. You were curious. You had no idea how personal it was. That was not your fault.” 

And Buck can see Eddie means it. Buck may not understand. But he trusts Eddie more than anything, more than even himself. And if after hearing it from Bobby, who was so angry with Buck, Eddie could still say it wasn’t Buck’s fault, then maybe Buck’s fucked up head is actually wrong here. 

“Okay,” he says. He means it and Eddie knows. He gives a firm nod and Buck feels strangely proud, like he’s passed some sort of test. 

“Maddie and Chim aren’t your fault either.”

“Eddie, no-”

“Buck, do you truly think you could have stopped Maddie from leaving?”

Buck thinks about it for a moment. He couldn’t get her to leave Doug. He couldn’t get her to stay for him. He wouldn’t have been able to get her to stay for Chim and Jee either.

“No,” he admits, “but I still could have-”

“Could have what? Told Chim?”

“Yes.”

“And betrayed Maddie’s trust?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. Eddie can see the struggle in his eyes, the desire to believe Eddie against the instinct to blame everything on himself. Buck tries to carry the weight of everyone's mistakes on his shoulders, and if Eddie doesn’t take some of it, it’ll crush him. 

“Buck, you were standing by your sister, like she’s always stood by you. You were trying to help her. Maddie leaving was not your fault, and Chim knows that. He needed someone to be mad at and he can’t very well be mad at your sister, so he’s mad at you instead. He won’t be for very long. They both know all you were doing was trying to help, and they love you for it. You did nothing wrong.”

And that… that’s exactly what Buck needs to hear. It’s exactly what he wishes he could believe. Eddie sounds so sure of it, like it’s not even a question for him. Maybe it’s not. Maybe Buck just didn’t understand what Eddie was trying to say to him on the balcony. Because Eddie seems sure. But still…

“And if Maddie’s not okay? If something happened because I let her go? What then?”

Eddie’s heart aches at the pain in Buck’s voice, at the tears welling in his brilliant blue eyes. “Then there was really nothing you could have done. If Maddie’s plan was to get hurt, you never would have been able to stop her. And by letting her go, all you did was give her the chance to realize what she would miss. Buck, hear me: you did not do anything wrong. You tried to help. You did everything you could, and you did it all out of love. You’re so strong all of the time, Buck. You try to make everyone else’s mistakes your own so you can’t blame them. But it’s okay to. You can be mad at Maddie for leaving, you can be upset with Chim for not understanding. You can be hurt by what Bobby did. You’ll forgive them, but more than that you have to forgive yourself.”

Buck can’t stop the tears and they escape one by one, racing down his cheeks. Eddie didn’t release his gaze the entire time. Eddie sees Buck, and he thinks Buck is good. He sees his fears and his dark thoughts and his sadness, and he thinks Buck is strong. He forgives Buck. He loves Buck. Eddie, incredible, brave, good, Eddie, loves him. It’s so much Buck can barely handle it. 

“I love you,” Buck whispers. It’s all he can say. Eddie smiles softly and reaches up with his free hand to brush away Buck’s tears. His hand lingers on Buck’s cheek and Buck resists the urge to lean further into the touch. 

“I love you, too.” 

“Thank you. For- for always knowing what to say.”

Eddie shrugs one shoulder. “It’s what I do. And don’t act like you don’t do the same for me.” Buck smiles and Eddie thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Also I yelled at Bobby.”

“You what?!”

[4stars-uswnt]

My Muse, My Valentine [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Not sure if you’re accepting any request but can you write a cp x photographer gf where her gf surprised her at man u, like her gf secretly transfer there to be with cp. Thanks

A/N: please ignore some of the inconsistencies this story has with reality :) but anyways... hope you enjoy and have a happy Valentine’s Day (tomorrow) and remember it’s a day about LOVE, whether that be romantic, platonic, familial, or self ❤️

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whine, as you watch your girlfriend pack her suitcase.

“I know, babe. I’m gonna miss you too, so much.” Christen leans down to quickly peck your lips, before continuing to fold her clothes.

You and Christen had been dating for almost three years now, having met after you’d photographed one of the USWNT’s matches. You instantly felt an attraction to the curly-haired forward, your camera always drifting towards her wherever she was on the pitch.

After you’d posted a couple of your photos on your Instagram, which Christen made a point to like and repost, you gathered up the courage to approach her after a game, and thus began your relationship.

With yours and Christen’s busy schedules, it was sometimes hard to find time for each other, but you made it work, sharing an apartment in Portland during the offseason and flying out for matches when you could. But being a sports photographer did have its benefits, as your work often led you to spending more time with your girlfriend and admiring her speed down the field and score goals.

But now, with the pandemic, as the NWSL was struggling to field games,  you found yourself with little work. Christen herself was not quite satisfied with the league’s plan for the season, so when Tobin proposed the idea of going to the WSL, she desperately wanted to, yearning to get back on the pitch.

At first, when Christen approached you with the subject, you immediately opposed, not wanting to be so far from your girlfriend for such a long amount of time. Additionally, with COVID, it would be nearly, if not completely, impossible for you to visit. But after a blowout fight and discussing it further, you realized that this is what would be best for Christen and her career.

“Do you have to go?” You pout, sitting up and moving to the end of the bed.

“You know I do, (Y/N/N).” Christen playfully rolls her eyes.

“Humph.”

“Babe, come on, don’t make me feel worse about leaving you.”

“Then don’t,” you quip, grabbing your girlfriend by the waist, pulling her down on the bed with you.

“Babe!” Christen squeals, as you blow raspberries into her skin.

You lift your head from the crook of her neck, your eyes locking with hers. “I know that you have to go,” you admit seriously. “Doesn’t mean I like it, but I know that this is what’s best for your career.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she says earnestly, giving you a small smile. “We’ll text and FaceTime everyday.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You cup her face and bring her in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of her soft lips on yours. “I also know that you’re gonna kill it over there in Manchester. The WSL isn’t gonna know what hit them.”

Christen ducks her bashfully, a small blush arising on her cheeks. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, Chris. I love you, too.”

“Good.” She gives you a quick peck, as she gets up from the bed. “Now, either quit bothering me or help me. My flight is early tomorrow morning, and I haven’t even finished packing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—————

It had been a little over five months since you’d dropped Christen off at the airport and she left for Manchester. Despite the constant texting and the nightly FaceTime calls, you couldn’t help but ache for your girlfriend. Without her, the apartment was lonelier and the bed felt bigger.

It had helped that your work had started back up, first with some freelance work and then with the NWSL fall series starting, which gave you something to do and kept you fairly busy.

Currently, you were sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of coffee, as you edited some photos for the Thorns. Just as you were saving your work and closing Lightroom, about to shut your computer, a ping alerts a new email in your inbox.

Switching tabs, you notice the message is from an unfamiliar address, so you presume it’s a new client. You click and open it, your eyes widening, as you scan the email:

Ms. (Y/L/N),

I noticed your professional portfolio through many referrals, particularly your work form the World Cup. I am writing on behalf of the BBC News Media Centre, and we’re looking for an excellent sports photographer to join the team, specifically to cover the FA Women’s Super League and the Premier League.

Your experience is outstanding, adn your work speaks for itself. I think you’d be a great fit for this role, and I’d love to tell you more about it and hear more from you.

Would you like to set up a phone or Zoom call soon? If so, let me know when you’re available.

Best,

Charles Smith

Director of Media Relations at BBC Sport

You quickly reread the email, and then reread it again, just to make sure you’re not dreaming. This was too good to be true. But you shake yourself out of your stupor and quickly type out a response to set up a phone call as soon as possible.

After hitting send, you shut your computer with excitement and throw your hands up in the air.

“Yes!” You exclaim into the empty apartment, as you throw your fist in the air and jump off the barstool.

Knowing you needed to distract yourself, otherwise you’d just be staring at your computer, eagerly awaiting the response, you decided to go on a run.

Jogging through the city, you think of your girlfriend and your potential reunion if this job offer worked out. You decided that if you did in fact take this position, you’d surprise Christen at one of her matches, hopefully one that you’d be able to photograph.

As soon as you arrive back in your apartment, you make a beeline for your laptop. You anxiously open your inbox and beam when you see Charles had replied to set up a Zoom call at 9:30 tomorrow morning. You excitedly type out pleasantries, telling him you’re looking forward to it.

For the rest of the afternoon, you were in an increasingly good mood. So later that evening, when Christen called you for your routine FaceTime, she could tell something was up.

“Why do you keep smiling like that?”

“Can I not be happy to talk to my girlfriend?” You tease, a huge grin plastered onto your face.

“You can,” Christen trails off, not quite believing you. “But you have the weird giddy look you get when something’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. Just had a good day,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Okay,” the forward accepts, still eyeing you suspiciously. “Anyways, you know She Believes is in a couple weeks, are you working the tournament?”

“Yup,” you nod and make a mental note to mention that to Charles tomorrow.

The two of you continue updating each other, chatting about topics ranging from what you had for breakfast that day to re-inc’s upcoming drop.

“Alright,” Christen yawns. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

You check your phone and see it’s 5:37 pm, meaning it’s almost midnight in Manchester.

“Okay,” your eyes softening at the sight of your sleepy girlfriend. “Good night, Chris. I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe. G’night.”

After ending the call and shutting your laptop, you head into the kitchen to make some dinner for yourself, getting on with your evening.

—————

The next morning, you anxiously await for Charles to begin the Zoom call, nervously bouncing your knee and biting your lip.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Charles greets, his face appearing on your screen.

“Good morning. Or rather good afternoon?” You correct with a light chuckle, to which he reciprocates.

“Well, as you know from my email, we are looking for a photographer to join our team, and from many referrals, you seem to be a very good candidate,

“So, I was thinking maybe we could look at your portfolio really quickly and then hash out the logistics to see if this is something that could work out.”

“Sounds good,” you agree, as you pull up some of your best pictures and share your screen.

The two of you look through your photos, many from the 2019 World Cup, some of the Olympics, and a few from random NWSL games.

“Well, (Y/N), your work is quite impressive. If you’re ready, and you’re seriously interested in this position, we can talk specifics, scheduling, all that good stuff,” Charles offers.

“I’m definitely interested, but can I just preface by saying that my girlfriend is a major part of this decision, so depending on what she wants to do at the end of the season will impact my contract.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting your candor. “Your girlfriend plays in the WSL?”

“Yeah, well, technically only for this season. Her contract is up in May,” you explain.  

“(Y/N), to be completely frank, we’re looking to hire because a couple of our photographers had some personal issues due to COVID and had to leave mid-season,” Charles reveals. “So if it turns out that your girlfriend wants to go back to the NWSL, then we can work that out. And if she wants to stay, and you end up liking it here and you fit in well, we can also work that out. We’re pretty flexible.”

You sigh in relief, giving him a small smile. “Wow, thank you so much. So what would my contract look like?”

“Well, we can sign you to three month contract with the option for extension,” he offers, as you nod along enthusiastically.

“That sounds great,” you exclaim, beaming. “And just to let you know, I’ve already signed on to work the She Believes tournament from the 18th to the 21st.”

“That actually aligns with the WSL’s international break, and there are a couple Premier League matches that weekend, but I think we can manage, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You guys are too kind and so flexible. I really appreciate it so much,” you say earnestly.

“It’s really just us being desperate for a good photographer,” Charles jokes.

“Either way, I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

“We’re excited for you to join our team,” he reciprocates. “So, in terms of when you’ll begin, I honestly would like you to come over as soon as possible so that you can get settled and get acclimated.”

“I am honestly ready to start whenever you’ll have me.”

“How about next week? The Manchester Derby is on Friday, and honestly, given your portfolio, I’d love you to photograph that match,” the British man admits.

“That’s perfect!” You were in complete awe of how perfectly everything was working out. Photographing a Man United match as your first job meant you could surprise Christen, maybe as an early Valentine’s gift.

“Great,” Charles smiles.

The two of you discuss and finalize your contract and the logistics of you starting the job. Once everything’s settled and you each have the information you need, you wrap up the call.

“Well, thank you so much, Charles, for this offer, and I can’t wait to see you next Tuesday.”

“I can’t wait to work with you and meet you. See you next week. Cheers.”

After ending the Zoom call, you begin to make a COVID test appointment, book your flight, and arrange your hotel room for the few days that Christen doesn’t know you’re there, preparing yourself for moving across the world.

—————

After landing in London, getting settled into your hotel, and meeting with the BBC team and the other photographers, you were now on your way to the Manchester Derby.

In the back of the black cab, you pull out your phone to text a good luck text to Christen.

It was difficult to keep your surprise a secret, especially when you were actually in England, because it was much more difficult to FaceTime without her noticing your change in setting. You had to make up the excuse that you were swarmed with editing and preparing for the upcoming Thorns trainings.

As you pull up to the Academy Stadium, you hear your phone ding.

Chris ❤️

Thanks babe. Miss and love you 😘

You quickly type out a response, before heading into the building.

(Y/N/N) 💗

Love you too. I miss u too but go kick butt.

The match was exhilarating. Not only were you a sports photographer, but you were also a huge fan of the game, enjoying a good game when you see one.

You watched in awe, the level and style of play significantly different from than NWSL. While snapping hundreds of photos of both teams, your camera would always somehow land back on your girlfriend.

Your heart ached for the curly-haired forward, as you missed her dearly. Until you saw her back on the pitch, you hadn’t really realized that you missed watching her play the game that she’d mastered, her movements around the pitch and on the ball effortless and elegant.

As the ref blew the whistle, signaling the end of the half, you scroll through some of the photos you’d taken, deleting some of the blurry and unfocussed ones.

A smile immediately forms on your face when you see a picture of Christen during warmups with a huge grin on her face. You spend all of halftime editing said photo and putting together an Instagram post for your girlfriend.

About fifteen minutes later, the teams take the pitch and you go back to doing your job. Throughout the second half, you could tell that Christen was getting increasingly frustrated, her team getting down 3-0 with only about five minutes left.

You watch as the players high five and hug each other, and you want nothing more than to run onto the field to be with your girlfriend, but you had a plan to stick to.

As the team goes back into the locker room, you pull out your phone to post a photo on Instagram and then you shoot a quick text to Tobin:

(Y/N)🤓:

toby go check out my ig post :))

Back in the Man United locker room, after Casey went through her post match speech, Tobin checks her phone and sees a text from you. The injured forward playfully rolls her eyes at your message but follows your directions.

Upon opening the social media app, Tobin raises her eyebrows, her eyes widening. She glances across the room to see if her best friend had seen your post, but Christen was minding her own business, changing into sweats after her shower.

“Chris!” The older forward calls over to the other woman. “Have you seen your girlfriend’s Instagram post?”

Christen furrows her brows in confusion. “What? No, what is it?”

Tobin waves her friend over and shows her the post:

Liked by mrapinoe, ashlynharris24, and 638,231 others

yourusername: My muse, my valentine.

“As I sat and looked at her

and the rolling hills she sat upon

I thought,

what amazing luck I have

that the world had created

such beautiful things

and given me the eyes to see them.”

- atticus

tagged: christenpress

- - - - -

mrapinoe: Stunning pictures, (Y/N). Love you guys 💖

alikrieger: These photos are 🔥🔥🔥🔥

alexmorgan13: love this 😍😍

cdunn19: Beautiful!

glennondoyle: Love love love love this!!

ashlynharris24: Holy shit! Are you in Manchester????

↳lavellerose: Was this today??

↳sammymewyy: Oh my gosh it was!

↳kellyohara: Valentine’s Day surprise for Pressy?? 👀

Christen zooms in on the photo in the center, her eyes widening when she realizes that it is from today’s match.

“How did she get that picture?”

Tobin mentally slaps her forehead at her friend’s denseness. “Knowing (Y/N), she probably took it.”

“But that’s impossible. She’s in the States,” Christen states and shakes her head, dumbfounded.

“Actually,” you speak up, stepping into the locker room, deciding to make your presence known. “I’m right here.”

“(Y/N)?” Your girlfriend looks up at you, her mind in a state of shock.

“Hey, love,” you greet shyly.

Once her mind caught up with reality, Christen runs and jumps into your body, kissing you passionately but briefly and wrapping you into a bone crushing hug.

“I can’t believe your here,” she whispers into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, babe, so much.”

Unwrapping herself from the hug, Christen stares at you in awe. “What… how are you here?”

“We can talk about that later,” you give her another quick kiss. “But right now, I just wanna spend time with you. Maybe we can grab some dinner? You can show me around Manchester, considering I’m gonna be spending a lot of time here.”

Your girlfriend looks at you puzzled, but you just give her a wink with a small smirk on your face.

“Well, c’mon lets get out of here.”

—————

Back at Christen’s apartment, the two of you sit down for a nice and casual, but romantic, dinner you’d prepared along with a bottle of red wine.

After catching up, the forward finally decides to address the elephant in the room. “So how are you here? What’s going on, (Y/N/N)? You said earlier that you’d be spending a lot of time in Manchester, what does that mean? I’m so confused. Not that I’m grateful that you’re here right now and that I get to see you, but I thought you were working She Believes, and—“

“Chris,” you cut off your girlfriend’s endearing rambling. “Babe, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” she blushes, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I got a job with BBC Sport till the end of the season,” you answer her parade of questions.

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

You nod, while taking a sip of your water. “It means I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

Not having the adequate words to express her joy and excitement, Christen gets up from her chair, walks over to sit in your lap, and connects you lips for a searing kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathes, rubbing her nose against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you quickly peck her lips while rubbing circles on her hip. “But as much as I love you and all this romance, we gotta get going soon.”

Your girlfriend tilts her head in confusion.

“Do the words ‘She Believes’ ring a bell?” You tease. “If I remember correctly, our flight leaves in a couple hours.”

“You’re coming with me?” Christen asks, her brain trying to wrap around the fact that her girlfriend, who she hadn’t seen in almost five months, would now be living with her in England and flying back to the States with her for the next week.

“Of course, Chris,” you give her a cheeky smile, along with a kiss to her nose, as you quote a book Becky had convinced the whole team to read. “You should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere. You’re the only good thing left in this world.”

[gunpowderdtim]

Talk to me about narratomancy? Just whatever you want to talk about it I'm deathly interested

!!!! Today today i had so many Thoughts. To many. It almost rivals March 2020 thoughts

So

My current running names for the four pillars of Narratomancy are as follows:

Universal Story

Narrative Role Filling/Casting Call

Story Echoes

Narrative Flow/Narrative Imperative

Each of these refer to VERY different things within the concept of Narratomancy. I will do my best to describe them. I have coined every term here but narratomancy, to which I believe the honor falls to @lucky-sevens

Keep in mind this is 50% theory, 20% headcanon, 30% canon, and that you do not have to agree with me.

Universal Story

Universal Story refers to the story of the universe, not stories in the universe, the story of the universe. In other words, the story of ‘Dr. Carmilla & The Mechanisms’

This section of Narratomancy is a tad more meta than the others, as it does in some form rely on real-world events to define it, as well as having little to no in story inpact on anything. Maki created the mechanisms universe, clear and simple. She founded the band, and hashed out the earliest lore. Dr. Carmilla is the main character of the universe, not of all the stories, but of the universe. Essentially, Universal Story refers to the fact that Doc C is the main character of the universe, and that the mechanisms are her side characters, in the story of the universe. I have taken to viewing it as doc carmilla stuff is the story of the universe, and the mechanisms is a spin off of that. Both are just as canon, but not specifically canon to eachother. Regardless, the universes story is Carmilla, from starting on Terra, to Aurora, through Loreli, into creating The Mechansims, all of that. All of that is the story of The Universe. The Mechanisms backstories are included in this, of course, because they are part of Carmilla's tale, not the other way around. Through this, I conclude that The Mechanisms are a spin off, focusing on the mechs rather than Carmilla. After all, The Mechansisms are a vessel for telling stories, for fleshing out the universe.

Narrative Role Filling/Casting Call

This refers to the mechs penchant for falling into narrative roles similar to troupes that they represent, or basically acting as a crutch for a story to continue. In OUATIS, Jonny acts as The Prince figure in sleeping beauty. He saves Briar. In being The Prince, he allows Snow's forces to attack cole, and win the war. Without that whole escapade, its likely the war would have stretched on years longer, and not have ended as it did.

Or, Ashes as Hades. What do mythological Hades and Ashes have in common? Hades was eaten by his father, Kronos, because there was a prophesy that told Kronos that his children would usurp him as king of the titans. Ashes figured out Mickey was the snitch, Mickey realized beforehand and lead Ashes into a trap. Killing them because he knew that they could ruin him. Basically, a parental figure betrays the child figure due to them knowing the child could ruin/destroy their position of power. As well as, if Ashes were not Hades, the Suits would not have met, and because of that the story of Ulysses Dies At Dawn would not have happened.

Continuing, while I am not nearly as much of an Arthurian legend person as I am a greek mythology person, some quick google searches revealed a similar similarity between Merlin and Brian. Basically, Merlin and the lady of the lake. She was basically his apprentice/a lady he was in love with? She basically betrayed and killed him after learning all out magic from him. Brian brought a priest back to life, only to have the priest betray and kill him. The tying together point here is clearly the "someone you helped betrays and kills you." That or, the fact they are both magical. Beyond this, If Brian were not on Fort Galfridian, Galahad would never have sought out the grail, and the entire plot would not have occurred.

In The Bifrost Incident, the Mechanisms do not take narrative roles in the way they did in prior albums. But this does not exclude them from being vital points in the story, after all, if Ivy were not present Lyf would not have been able to recover the data on the Black Box)

In all of these situations, (barring Jonny as The Prince) the Mechanisms have had some sort of connection point in the Roles they assume, as well as in their roles, changing the story so that it can continue to the ending presented in the albums.

Story Echoes

Story echoes are, to be blatant, simply canon. No argument, no theorizing, just canon. Refers to the fact that in the mechanism's universe stories 'echo' or basically repeat. In Kofi's fiction for HNOC, its shown rather blatantly that there are more Arthurs in this universe than just the one in hnoc.

In those burning instants, he’d feel the weight of it all, and know it was true. The golden age that never came; the city that stood at the dawn of a world instead of in its dying embers. And beyond – to a myriad of Camelots and a thousand thousand Arthurs, unfathomable worlds apart, each different, each fighting the same hopeless battle.

I know there are other examples of this, but they do escape me right now.

Lastly,

Narrative Flow/Narrative Imperative

This one is also directly canon. On the mechanisms blog, this post defines it rather well.

In the ask, the asker asks "...Do you heal injuries at an abnormal rate, or can you not be injured?"

In the reply, it is stated.

It depends on the narrative imperative - sometimes a Mechanism might die for a while, and only come back later when it becomes more fun, other times they’ll just heal/ignore wounds as they take them. It’s not something they can control, but tends to follow a rough logic of whatever works best for the story.

This is just canon, no arguing or stating otherwise. A mechanisms ability to heal depends entirely on what's best for the story.

Other examples in canon where this comes into play would be as follows:

GPTVTMK. In gptvtmk, Jonny's severed head is there. Is talks. It moves. In one of the fictions, it's stated Jonny cannot separate his heart from his body. Therefore, these are contradictory. Under normal circumstances, this would be a plothole. It is not here. Under narratomancy, Jonny was capable of being a severed head due to the fact that that would be best for the story.

OUATIS. Jonny walks through rounds and rounds of bullets.

HNOC. This example is a bit different from the rest, as it is not about a Mechanism. Galahad does something pretty fucking impossible.

And so Galahad stood and walked into the corridor. The guns trained on the preacher and opened fire. 

Say what you want about faith, but it can have powerful effects on those that have it. It can keep you from faltering as the bullets start to slam into you. It can keep you walking as your legs are shot to bloody stumps. It can keep you laughing as your lungs are filled with shrapnel and lead. It can keep you smiling as half your face is blown away. It can keep a man like Galahad standing tall until the guns clicked dry.

It is my belief that this is another example of narrative imperative. Under normal rules, Galahad could never have done this. But his faith, his beleif, kept him going. And that was good for the story.

So. That wraps up my narratomancy ramble for today. hope yall enjoyed.

*EDIT: Nastya does say it's nanobots. My opinion is: it's both. The nanobots are narrative driven <3

[draco-and-tom]

Dirty Girl- James Potter

Summary: James has been busy lately and you take things a little too far too get his attention

A/N: I loved writing this request so much because I'm in love with the marauders and haven't been able to write a blurb/one shot for them do to my requests which are basically always open. To both of the lovely people that requested marauder stuff I love you <3. 

WARNINGS: Slut shaming, unprotected sex, choking, degrading, praise, pet names, grinding, sensitiveness, spit kink, mirror sex.

Type: Smut to kinda fluff

REQUEST: Hey girl I really loved your all of your stories, Do you think you could do another one but a little more focused on james being a Dom james x reader. with a lot of degradation and bdsm. But please no daddy kink just her calling him like jamiese.If it don’t want to it fine I totally get but just asking!

Around this time of year was really stressful and annoying for you. You couldn't seem to get your boyfriend’s attention because he was always training for quidditch.  Here you were, watching your boyfriend mumble to himself about game strategies. You had already gone most of the summer without seeing him and now you had to deal with this. You were bored, horny, and sad. The worst part of it all was that James knew it and didn't care. He would always try to hush you with “later bunny” or “not right now y/n” just so that he could enjoy your frustration. Plus in all honesty, he truly was busy. You watched carefully as James wrote plays on parchment and hid your body under the sheets, not wanting to be caught. You started touching your body, sliding your hand slowly down your stomach and to where you wanted him most. As soon as your hand touches the wet spot in your panties James turns his head to look at you. You quickly moved your hand away, but there wasn't a point, he had caught you. James looked at you sternly and you tried hard not to cry from frustration. “What the hell do you think you’re doing Bunny?” you looked away from his face, unable to make eye contact any longer. You sigh and wiggle uncomfortably under his gaze “I’m sorry Jamiese” your voice was barely above a whisper. James turned back around to continue his work but still talked to you “Get out from under the sheets”. You lifted the covers off of you and sat on the bed, your legs crossed. You kept sighing and whimpering, just trying to get your boyfriend's attention, but he didn't even tell you to be quiet. He was ignoring you. Once you understood what he was doing you got up off the bed. James didn’t even turn to look at you, it was like you weren't there. “Jamieseeeee” you whined as you made your way over to him. He continued to write down things for quidditch. You wanted to snap the quill in half, but you knew that if you did that he would just get out a new one. When James was ignoring you he went all the way out, pretending like what you were doing didn’t happen. Either that or that it was completely normal for something to happen out of nowhere, almost like a ghost. You huffed and sat on his lap, your legs on either side of his waist. You knew you were being a whiny brat, but right then you didn’t care like you usually would. James looked everywhere but at you and what you were doing, even when you wiggled your hips against him trying to get friction. You’re lip quivered as you watched him ignore your actions once more. You felt like you could scream and cry from frustration. You knew that if you cried James would more than likely wrap you in his arms and give you all of the attention that you had been craving, but you didn’t want to be that much of a needy baby. You hid your mouth in the crook of his neck and rocked your hips gently against his. You whimpered and moaned against his skin as you rocked your hips. You could tell it was hard for him to ignore you. His breathing became more ragged and the movements of his hand as he was writing were more forced and seemingly un-structured. You pant and moan in his ear with pleasure as you grind against him. James grew hard underneath you and had stopped writing, unable to focus, but still refused to give you even a shred of his attention. “James” you whined. At the sound of his name, the act was finally broken. He lifted your chest off of him and made you look him in his eyes. James scoffed at your state “don’t be such a needy slut Bunny. I told you to be good, but you’re acting like a dirty whore,”. You looked him in the eyes and felt your lip quiver. James stood, holding you in his arms, and walked over to his bed. He laid you on the side of the mattress “bend over whore”.  You listened to him, it was the least you could do after everything. There was a mirror on the wall in front of you and you immediately knew where this was going. James had joked around about fucking you in front of a mirror, but you always knew it was more than a joke. You were glad that it was finally happening, every time he would bring it up you could feel your panties dampen. The worst part was that James teased in detail. He would talk about how deep he would be and how you would take him so good as he watched your face in the reflective surface. Once he noticed how his dirty talk got you he would whisper things in your ear “aw. Poor bunny. One day beautiful”. But now it was finally happening and you were practically buzzing with excitement. You felt James lift up your skirt lightly and rested your face against the bed “please Jamiese”. He chuckled and lifted your face to look at him in the mirror “this could’ve been a completely different experience if you would have been a good girl,”. You whined and made sure to not look away from him “You wouldn’t have given me anything if I was a good girl.” as soon as you said it you knew it was a mistake. You immediately felt James’ hand reach over and pop yours, leaving pink tink on your skin. James kept eye contact with you as he spoke hash words, all of them going straight to your core. “You better be glad I'm giving you anything slut” you whimpered under his touch as he felt you through your soaked panties. You saw James smirk as he touched you, thanks to the mirror “You like it when I talk to you like the needy whore you are, don't you? Pathetic”.  You nodded “can't help it Jamiese” and you hear his chuckle at your words. He pushes your panties down your legs and you let out a shutter as you feel the cold air hit your soaking heat. James tosses your panties somewhere on the floor and returns his attention to you “you’ll look at me in the mirror until I tell you otherwise. Understood?” you nod and he shakes his head “use your words slut”. You let out a shaky breath and answer him “yes sir”. You cringe at how needy you sound and James rolls his eyes “you act like it’s a surprise. You know you’re needy for me, don't deny it”. You sigh and nod your head. You didn’t notice that James was touching you until you felt two fingers thrust inside of you quickly, causing you to moan. He pulled his fingers out and you whimpered as you saw him lick your arousal from his fingers. James ran his hands up and down your thighs, speaking softly in contrast to his filthy words. “You’re tight for a whore, but then again I'm the only one that gets to touch you. Isn’t that right?’ you let out a shaky breath you didn't know you had been holding and nodded “only you”. You heard James groan and watched as he stepped back slightly, undressing himself. Before you knew it you felt James’ cock against your dripping pussy and shuttered at the feeling. James gripped your hips with one of his hands and lined himself up. You struggled to keep your eyes on the mirror in front of you as James slammed into you, giving you no time to adjust. Soon the burning pain turned into pleasure and you watch his face contort from pleasure. The marauder opened his eyes and looked at you, watching your reaction as he pounded into you. One of his hands made its way to your hair, holding it away from your face, he wanted to see everything he was doing to you. James adjusted himself and barely lifted your hips with his free hand, causing you to moan. He groaned at your reaction “That's it. Take it like a good little slut.”. James’ thrusts became faster but still precise. It felt like he was getting deeper with each thrust if possible. Your boyfriend let go of your hair and gripped your jaw, still looking into your eyes “You can look away now. I need to show you what a whore you are”. You nod and James tilts your chin back and kisses you roughly. It almost felt like the two of you were having a moaning contest. The feel and sound of the moans he spilled in your mouth cause you to return the favor. Suddenly James pulled back and tapped your lips “open” you raised an eyebrow in confusion but obliged anyway. James spit into your mouth and you let out a shocked moan, clenching around him. He looked at you and scoffed “well…. What the fuck are you waiting for?! Swallow whore”. You immediately followed his instructions, earning yourself a few grunts from James. You felt so weak at the moment. Your legs were shaky, and your pussy was clenching tighter around your boyfriend, moans continuously slipping from your quivering lips. After a few more thrusts you felt the sparks in your stomach grow stronger “please let me cum Jamiese. M’ so close”. Your boyfriend chuckled “Does my little slut want to finish? Look back in the mirror and I’ll help my dirty girl out”. You look in the mirror and watch as James’ hand wraps around your throat, tightening little by little. He chuckled as he watched you struggle against your fluttering eyelids, his hand tightening more and making your breathing even more ragged. You finally felt the wave of relief crash over you and watched James’ reaction as your pussy squeezed around him. His eyes were shrewd shut and his lips slightly parted. It wasn’t just how he looked though. You could hear and feel his reaction too, making it so much better. His thrusts lost their perfect rhythm and he was struggling for breath as he moaned. James’s hand was now blocking a lot of air from coming in at once and you began to feel your mind become foggy. His hips shuttered against you and you knew how close he was “want me to cum in my slut’s tight little hole? Hm?”. You struggled to form words, but eventually let out a shaky whine “please J-James please”. There was something about the way you said his name. All whiney and ruined, he loved it. “Fuck y/n. So good” you moaned at the praise and the feeling of his cum spilling into you. Your boyfriend laid his body against yours and trailed kisses down your neck and shoulder until he gained the strength to lift himself and pull out. You whimpered at the empty feeling. James lifted you up lightly and laid you on his mattress. He climbed in right after he made sure you were comfortable laying on your back. James pressed a sweet kiss to your lips and you smiled against his lips tiredly. The boy pulled back and looked at your fucked out state. You felt the marauders gaze on you and listened to him as he spoke. “You did so good for me Bunny” James watched as you opened your eyes and beamed up at him with a lazy smile. You were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The look in his eyes was so sweet you were almost shocked that you were what he was looking at. You survey his face as a grin makes its way onto his lips “really?” you ask and James just nods sweetly. The boy kisses your cheek and rubs it with his thumb like any more pressure would break you “can I clean you up beautiful?”, you nod and he moves down to the pool all over your thighs and pussy. James spreads your legs gently licks your thighs clean of the liquid. You whimper and grip his hair in your hands, almost as a hint. James pulls back and sighs, placing a kiss on both of your thighs before speaking “I know bunny, I promise I'll try to be careful". You nod and mumble a slurred “mkay” and that was the only permission he needed to continue. Once James was finished licking you clean he laid beside you and pulled the covers over the both of you. You let out a sigh of content as the boy you loved pulled you closer to him and cuddles you. James placed a soft kiss on your cheek and you both share three words that go way beyond their definition. “I love you Y/N”        “I love you, James”    

TAGLIST: @harrypotter-whore​    ( @georgeswh0re​ I lost the message where you told me which characters you wanted to be tagged in, so I figured safe>sorry) @msmb​

[gogglor]

Cap-Ironman RecWeek: What-If Wednesday

Time for another installment of @cap-ironman rec week! Today’s theme: AU’s.

I know AU’s in different settings are half the reason most people read fanfics, but they’re not really my thing on the whole. AU’s where different choices are made, or different events transpire? Absolutely. Coffee shops? Not my cup of... you know.

So, here’s my AU recommendations for mostly “turn left” scenarios. This time with an under-the-cut break so I don’t take over everyone’s timelines (sorry about that last post). Also with some summaries truncated for length.

Alone Like This

Author: GotTheSilver

Word Count: 7,452

Summary: Steve, post waking up, runs away from SHIELD, and Tony's the one who tracks him down.

Why You Should Read It:

First off, GotTheSilver’s been consistently and regularly putting out solid Stony since 2012 and not only are they not stopping, they’re only getting better. This writer doesn’t get nearly the fanfare I’d expect in Stony circles for someone who puts out this much good stuff, and here’s hoping this post can be a part of changing that.

While I am always a sucker for enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, there’s something to be said for stories where Steve and Tony hit it off right away. And watching these two very different people look at each other and see the same sense of being lost, then finding each other again is... excuse me, there’s something in my eye, ignore me.

Second Chance Lives

Author: raeldaza

Word Count: 43,872

Summary: Tony's gonna die of palladium poisoning anyway, why not join a pointless expedition to recover Captain America’s body? And after, well, why not dedicate his last few months to making sure an American hero settles into his new life? What else is he going to do, get drunk at parties?

Why You Should Read It:

This writer doesn’t write a lot for the MCU but when they do, dang.

“Tony is the one helping Steve acclimate to the new century before Avengers 2012″ is a whole genre of Stony fanfics that scratch an itch I didn’t even know I had before I started reading fanfiction, and this is one of the best ones out there. It’s got it all - Steve poorly coping with his PTSD, Tony poorly coping with his immanent mortality, some breathtakingly poor communication between the two most emotionally stunted men in the MCU, and a cat named Roomba. What’s not to love?

Should You Choose to Accept It

Author: elwenyere (look, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of them this week, sorry-not-sorry)

Word Count: 27,106

Summary: After a terrorist attack and a field operation gone wrong, the Avengers realize that Nick Fury's secrets are just the start of a much bigger mystery. Steve and Tony try to keep some things from each other as well, but that can't possibly affect the mission — right? Mission Fic + Getting Together (or Mission: Getting Together) that mashes up elements from Iron Man 3, CA: Winter Soldier, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season one, and Mission Impossible 3.

Why You Should Read It:

You can see my post yesterday for singing El’s praises, but what I really liked about this fic was how how damn creative it is. The CAWS/IM3/AOS mashup is everything I wished the actual MCU gave us and more, with well-developed characters and an exciting story to put them in. And because it’s El, you know the banter’s gonna be on point, the way the characters care for each other is gonna be emotionally constipated but touching, and the pacing’s gonna be exciting enough to draw you in and keep you there. Also, this fic doesn’t have nearly enough kudos so please go read it and fix that or I’m gonna have to try to hack AO3 and that’ll just be embarrassing for all parties involved.

What Happens In Vegas

Author: sabremc

Word Count: 161,951

Summary: “What the hell, Tony?” Rhodey demanded brusquely.  Tony winced and drew the phone away from his ear.  “You’ve got cops and Feds all over the hotel.  I’m watching you perp walk out of the police station on repeat on CNN.  They’re saying you tried to bribe Stern?  Fox News has you selling weapons on the black market, and God that picture they’re using is the one from Bali in ’09.   You look like shit.  They wheeled Stern out and put him in an ambulance, by the way.  Got some paparazzi swearing you decked the guy.  Now they’ve got ‘copters following it like he’s OJ.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Sourpatch, I’ve got it covered.   Uh, though, I should probably tell you that, purely in the interests of national security and the greater good, I kind of had to fake marry that stripper-gram  you sent.  Thanks for that, by the way,” Tony added quickly.

Why You Should Read It:

If you’re deep enough into Stony to see posts like this on Tumblr, you probably know sabre’s what we in the business call a “big name author.” They’re prolific, they’re popular, and most importantly, they write words good (technical term). Seriously, sabre just keeps cranking out high quality stuff over and over again, raising the bar for the rest of us like a jerk (not really. I’m not bitter they write stuff so good I wish I’d thought of it first. Not at all.)

I never read stripper!Steve or stripper!Tony as a rule, but this came so widely recommended that I broke that rule and boy am I glad that I did. This is also the only fic on this list that’s a true-AU, with Steve being a non-powered vet from Afghanistan who left his army career to help Bucky and is stripping in Vegas to raise money for a prosthetic arm. He’s booked to do a private show for Tony, shenanigans ensue, and now they’re fake-married. This fic’s got some top-of-the-line banter and character development, but I particularly love it for its rich setting. Sabre paints a Vegas not just with strip clubs and blackjack tables, but KISS-themed minigolf, romantic dinners on the Eiffel tower, gaudy hotel lobbies, and making out on giant ferris wheels. It’s such a richly developed playground for the characters to play on, and through it, Steve manages to find a life for himself he’d given up on, and Tony finds multiple ways to show his kindness and depth of feeling for Steve. I know the word count’s long for this one but trust me, you’ve gotta read this fic.

Wait & Sea

Author: Lenalena

Word Count: 53,244

Summary: In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

Why You Should Read It:

This one’s old and popular enough to be considered one of the “classic” Stony fics, and for good reason. Lenalena doesn’t write too often and not as much as they used to, but the fics they have up there are an absolute delight.

This is another fic that I skipped a bunch of times for being outside my comfort zone, but when I finally read it I saw why everyone’s so wild about it. In this story, Steve’s defrosted a bit earlier and not revealed as Captain America. He and Tony are sent undercover to sniff out Hydra shenanigans on a cruise and, because it’s fanfiction, they’ve got to pretend to be a married couple while onboard. There’s tons to love about this fic, but the things that bring me back to reading it over and over is first, Tony’s kindness and the way he’s attuned to Steve’s feelings, which... God, just inject “kind, observant Tony” straight into my veins, please and thank you. This is also another really rich setting for a story, and Lena knows how to fold the the hokeyness of the cruise into the seriousness of the mission and the depth of feelings Steve and Tony are finding for each other in a really beautiful, layered way. It’s funny, it’s heartfelt, it’s steamy, it’s gripping... why are you still reading this here? Go check it out for yourself!

Ashes to Ashes

Author: dirigibleplumbing

Word Count: 51,582

Summary: After regrouping following some surprise time travel, the world's heroes and sorcerers come up with a plan to protect the Mind and Time Stones by taking them into space in opposite directions. The result involves a lot more time loops than Steve would like, but at least they're getting a second chance to stop Thanos. (As well as a third, and a fourth...) And if Steve takes the opportunity to try to reconcile with Tony, too—well, they have the time, and Steve's going to make the most of it.

Why You Should Read It:

Dirigibleplumbing’s another name in Stony fanfics that does not get nearly as much fanfare as they deserve. They’re consistently a really creative voice in Stony fanfics and I always look forward to their stories showing me something new. Go read all their fics, I need more people to geek out with me over them.

I tend to limit myself on Steve-and-Tony-mend-things-after-Civil-War fics not because they’re not good, but because they’re so heavy, and also the Sokovia Accords have five hundred layers of crap in them that no good fic could possibly hash out well. This one, though? When you add in the Infinity War/End Game fixit? Poetry. Art. Music to my ears. DP wrote a really engaging, twisty story where it’s hard to predict what’s coming next, in spite of it literally being a pseudo-Groundhog day scenario. The characterizations are great, the story is engaging, and the feelings are big and sad and eventually happy. Go read it, you’ll love it.

I have tons of other recs for this category but this seems like a good place to stop for today. Tomorrow’s Alternative Media Thursday, and I’ve got some real gems I’ve been saving for that day (aaaaand possibly a self-rec or two ;)

[carpetcat2]

Carpet elaborates on the baby thing!!! (Even though I help made the au lol)

HAHAHAHAHA YESSSSSS Gonna be explaining some details about the Evil (but maybe not really) Puzzle Knight AU under the read more. I just want to credit @griffally-grifondoro and @bee-knightofscreams (you) for hashing out and adding a good majority of these details. I'm pretty sure this AU is more theirs than mine at this point lol (still love it though.)

Ignore these numbers. idk why they're here lol.

Ok so Puzzle Knight got left in the Pocket Dungeon to bake for a while longer than in canon. His morals got scrambled within that time. Years of very little human contact/extended periods of time being alone in a world where death doesn't matter + life is literally a game does that to you

Prism finds the PD (without the Enchantress' involvement) and meets the now morally dubious puzzle master. She strikes up a deal with him to lead other knights to the PD in exchange for information about the place, and by extension, help searching for her long-lost father.

Puzzle at this point had fully resigned himself to the idea that he was never escaping the PD. Rather than doing this in order to find a replacement PD master, he decided to trap people in with him so that he at least wouldn't be alone in his imprisonment

When he realized Prism was his Actual Daughter, he withheld that info from her bc he recognized on some level he knew what he was doing was wrong and believed that she would leave him if she ever found out.

Besides, what would he lose if she never found out? Not only would she stay there with him for longer, but she'd also be bringing in more and more people. That was his justification for his actions, flimsy as it was.

So Prism finds out about his scheme. Believing that he would be a danger to everyone on the outside, she leaves him behind in the Pocket Dungeon

Puzzle's left in the PD for several more years, perhaps even centuries. One day he hears a rumbling in the sky, and what would you know? The PD's falling apart. He was able to escape bc the magic holding the place together (as well as the magic binding him to it) was weakened. He only left when the place was at its very last legs though

So he's in the outside world now. It sure has changed since he last been there. It's all modern now!

He aimlessly wanders around the now modern-day Valley for a while until he sees some baby that was left unattended. Impulsively, he kidnaps it.

Somehow he convinced himself that it was ok for him to have kidnapped the little guy, so he's raising this kid in the ruins of the Scholar's Sanctum's outside counterpart.

If you want the rest of the story, go ask Bee about it! They have a lot of stuff to say about it and it's all really cool!

[elliesguitarstrings]

Silence (Part 4)

Masterlist//Series Masterlist

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way… at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: This is the second to last part I think! I was gonna do just one more long part but I want to keep this series going for a little longer so I decided to split it into 2 more parts so this one is kinda short. Please keep sending requests bc I’ve really enjoyed writing them and I’m hopefully gonna post more of them soon <3

Warnings: language, little bit of angst

~~~~~~~~

It’s been three days since you last spoke to Peter. Three long, antagonizing days.

The fact that Peter kept ignoring you for MJ just pushed you to your breaking point. Plus, your chance with Peter is slim to none at this point, and it would just hurt more to stay so close to him knowing that he would never love you as much as you love him. Despite all the shitty things he’s done in the past few days, you still love Peter, which makes ignoring him all the more painful. But you had no other choice.

You hadn’t had a proper conversation with him since the dreadful events of your “friendiversary,” which for you and Peter was practically unheard of. You passed him in the halls of the compound and occasionally shot him a glance at team meetings, but other than that you ignored him completely.

Sitting on your bed, you pick up your phone.

14 New Messages from Peter

P: Y/N?

P: Y/N can we please talk

P: why are you ignoring me  

P: what did i do wrong can we please talk

P: Y/N why won’t you respond

P: how long are you gonna ignore me for

You stop reading after the sixth text. He’s been texting you constantly, but you never respond. To be honest, you don’t actually know how long you plan on ignoring him for. Obviously, you have to hash it out at some point, but you don’t think that will be anytime soon. Well, at least you hope it won’t be anytime soon.

Suddenly, FRIDAY announces, “Miss. Stark, Mr. Stark has requested you in his lab.”

You sigh, “What for?”

“Official Avengers business, so I would hurry.”

That peaks your interest, so you quickly leave your room and jog downstairs to your dad’s lab. You scan your fingerprint on the keypad, and the glass doors automatically side open, granting you access.

“Y/N, great, you’re here. I’ve got some big news,” your dad states.

“Really? What is it?” you ask excitedly.

“I’ve talked it over with the rest of the team, and we’ve all decided that you’re ready.”

“What!? Like ready to be an Avenger?” at this point, you’re practically shaking with excitement.

“Yes. You’ve had plenty of training, and we could use some extra help, so I’ve decided to make you an official part of the Avengers. Congrats honey.”

You rush to hug your dad, squeezing him tightly, “Thank you thank you thank you! You’re the best!” You pull away, “Does that mean I get to go on missions now?”

“Not just yet Y/N, you’ll just be starting off with patrol right now. I want to make sure you’re really ready.”

Normally, you would be opposed to this, begging him to let you go on a real mission, but at this point any excuse to get out of the compound and away from Peter was good enough for you.

“Okay! Can I go today?”

“Actually, that works out great! Peter has patrol in Queens tonight, so you can go with him. He can give you the lay of the land, tell you how stuff works and all,” he smirks.

“No, absolutely not,” you answer sternly, “I am not going with him.”

“Then I guess you won’t get to be part of the team.”

“WHAT? THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

“Y/N, now is not the time to be raising your voice at me. You can’t pick and choose who you fight with, just like you can’t pick and choose who you fight against. If you can’t figure out how to work out your stupid teenage problems, then I can’t have you on the team. I don’t want you jeopardizing a mission because you can’t work out a stupid problem with a boy.”

“But dad-“

“No buts. You either do your job or you’re not a part of the team. Understand?”

“Fine.” You storm out of the room, upset that yet another exciting thing is ruined by Peter.

As you hurry back to your room, you glare at Peter who is sitting on the couch watching TV. He starts to get up to talk to you, but is stopped by Nat, who follows you upstairs. Before you get the chance to slam your door shut, she catches it and slips into your room after you, shutting the door behind her.

“Okay, what’s going on with you and the kid?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on Y/N, it’s obviously not nothing. Everyone’s noticed that you’ve been ignoring him. Even Clint commented on it this morning, and he doesn’t give a shit about anything that goes around here.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I know you have feelings for him.”

Taken aback, you stutter, “W-what? No I don’t. You have no proof.”

“Oh please, I see the way you act with him, or well, how you used to act around him before you decided to start ignoring him for no reason.”

When you don’t respond, she sits down next to you on your bed. “Look Y/N, I know we’re not best friends, but you can talk to me. Just tell me what’s going on and maybe I can help. You can’t just keep your feelings bottled up like this. Trust me.”

“Fine,” you huff, “I do like him, but he doesn’t like me.”

“Is that why you haven’t been talking to him?”

“Sort of. But there’s more to it. He likes this girl from his school named MJ, and he’s been choosing her over me for a while now. And then the other day I had this whole day planned out for us because it was our one year anniversary of first meeting and becoming friends, and he invited MJ and one of his other friends to come with us,” tears start to roll down your cheeks, “And he spent the whole day with her, like he was purposefully avoiding me and rubbing it in my face that he doesn’t like me like that, that he’ll only see me as a friend.”

You scoot closer to Nat, and surprisingly, she pulls you into a short, but comforting hug. It actually means a lot to you, given that she’s not really the hugging type, and it makes you feel a but better knowing that she’s willing to comfort you.

“I’m sorry about that Y/N. It doesn’t seem like something Peter would do.”

“I know, which is why I’m even more pissed at him.”

Nat stares at the wall for a few seconds, seemingly deep in thought.

“I think you should tell him how you feel, tell him that you like him.” she states pointedly.

“What? Why would I do that?” you exclaim, taken aback.

She stands up off the bed and starts to walk out of the room, “Trust me. I have a hunch about it.”

She smirks and swiftly walks out the door, leaving you completely and utterly confused. For the time being, you decide to ignore it, ruling out the idea of confessing your feelings to a boy who doesn’t even like you, and who you are extremely mad at. That would be insane, right?

~~~~~~~~

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[coldgoldlazarus]

Yesterday, in a discussion on Discord, I counted up all the character songs for the individual RWBY members, and got some interesting results...

(I'm not counting OPs since those all seem to be about the team as a whole)

Ruby:

Red Like Roses; Red Like Roses Part II; Home; Miracle (sorta?); Indomitable; Until The End

(6 songs. Lots of focus in V1 and V6, but pretty sparse otherwise. I know technically Indomitable is a Monty song, but it was still used for her big Silver-eyes moment, so I'm counting it.)

Weiss:

Mirror Mirror; It's My Turn; Mirror Mirror Part II; This Life Is Mine; Path To Isolation

(5 songs. Very front-loaded, lots of stuff from the first half of the series, but her V5 character short was the last time we got a new one. People ignoring stuff post-V3 is probably why she has the reputation for having the most despite actually having the least.)

Blake:

From Shadows; Wings (People always forget about this one but I love it); Like Morning Follows Night; This Time; Nevermore; Touch The Sky (apparently? Haven't listened to that one a whole lot admittedly); Brand New Day; Treasure

(8 songs! ...Most of which are duets, so it really hashes out to more like 5.5 songs. Wings, Touch The Sky, and Treasure are the only ones she has to herself, with the rest being shared with Adam, Sun, Ghira, Yang, and Qrow of all people. And neither of the V7 ones I initially recognized as being about her since they didn't sound the most... Blake-y.)

Yang:

I Burn; Gold; Armed And Ready; BMBLB (It's totes about the bike guys :V ); Ignite; All That Matters; Nevermore; The Sky Is Falling

(8 songs. She definitely has the most consistent run, and unlike Blake there's only one or two duets; Nevermore and arguably BMBLB. So, 7 or 7.5 songs, still the biggest count of the group. One interesting trend I noticed is that a lot of her more upbeat and rock-oriented songs also tend to have rap verses in them... Rapper Yang when?)

Overall:

Interestingly, the only times we've gotten focus songs for all four of them in the same Volume were 1 and 4, and I don't entirely count 4 because again, Blake Duet Problem.™ (Again, people need to go back and listen to Wings if they want more Blake solo songs!) I'm hoping that Volume 9 will focus solely on the island, so that hopefully we can get songs for all four of them again... Plus maybe one or two for Jaune and Neo lol

[wtfevenismypage]

Observer, not Profiler PT.2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of child porn(for the case, doesn’t go into detail), mentions of corpses, probably a few curse words.

You watch as everyone separates, and you follow The three agents to a room with a round table and a board of pictures with dead women.

“what can you tell us about this man?”

Agent Aaron sets a file down on the table as Spencer gestures for you to sit down.

You open the file, looking at pictures of a man with short hair and a muscly build.

“His name is Maxwell, He’s thirty four. In this picture he had just finished... killing a woman. He probably had to force her away from a crowd because his social skills are lacking, he treats women like toys and men like competition. He’s a severe liar. He won’t just lie when it’s essential he’ll lie about anything for no reason. He’s killed before, but this time was for fun. He was bored.”

Agent Prentiss stares at you with her jaw on the floor, and your gaze drops to the floor.

“Okay that’s awesome. How do you do that?”

You shrug shyly before meeting her eyes.

“I’ve been able to do it ever since I was a little girl. I’m not sure why though. Don’t think I really want to know either...”

“He killed for fun?”

You nod at Aaron’s question, looking back down to avoid his steel cold stare.

“Okay, that got us much further than we could have gotten by ourselves, thank you Y/n.”

The scary agent says, returning to the victim board and analyzing everything.

-

-

-

-

It’s been hours. You’ve sat in this room for hours and they have nothing else. 

To say you’re tired was an extreme understatement. You’ve gone three days without sleep and another three days without eating. You’re body is screaming at you to go to sleep, to just pass out right then and there, but you know you can’t.

“Y/n, are you alright?”

You nod, staring at the pictures of the dead, mutilated women. You didn’t understand how someone could do this.

“I don’t understand how you guys do this job... Staring at dead bodies all the time... You guys gotta have some sort of super power to be able to stomach this...”

Emily stifles a laugh before setting a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently before patting it twice.

“You get over it eventually, but it always haunts you.”

You let out a quiet yawn before closing your eyes and turning away from the board, the dead body sticking on your eyelids.

“Hey, I’m going out to get food, what do you all want?”

JJ says, standing in the doorway as Spencer, Aaron and Emily request their food.

“What do you want Y/n?”

You look up shocked, not expecting the offer of food.

“Umm... I’ll uh... Anything is fine I guess... Thank you.”

She smiles and nods before walking out. You sit down on a chair, your feet screaming hallelujah at the feeling of finally resting.

Spencer sits down next to you, handing you a bottle of water which you accept gratefully.

“You need to sleep, how long has it been since you last slept?”

You let out a chuckle, rubbing your sore eyes.

“I don’t know...Maybe, two, three days?”

Aaron- Hotch, turns to you with furrowed brows and mock concern. 

“You need to rest. Reid, set up a cot for her in an empty office.”

You shake your head with lidded eyes.

“No no, I’m fine I’m-”

You’re cut off by your own yawn. A faint blush creeps up on your cheeks while you rest your head on the table.

“M’ fine.”

The world slowly fades out as they call out your name again, but you’re already out cold.

When you wake up, you’re in a small sleeping bag on the floor, a pillow comforting your head. You’re up in a bolt, looking around warily before remembering what had happened withing the last twenty four hours.

Oh yeah... The FBI is using me..

You walk to the door with a sigh, looking around at the somewhat empty police station, a few officers working the stations, but it’s practically empty.

A blonde woman in colorful clothes walks by, pausing when she sees you.

“You, with me, now.”

She continues speed-walking on after that, and you run after her, following right on her heels.

“The team went out on a wild goose chase after the unsub, I need you and your magic hands to help me get into this guy’s computer, it’s blocked like nothing I’ve seen before, together we should be able to get in.”

You cringe at the thought of hacking, you haven't since the incident, but this woman is in the FBI and you’re pretty sure it’s unwise to disobey her. 

“Yes ma’am.”

She smirks and turns to you, but doesn’t say anything as she leads you into a room with five computers.

“Alright, we have to be quick. This guy is gonna kill again in ten minutes. I have the team on the line, anything you find, anything at all, tell them.”

You nod and sit at one of the two wheely chairs, looking at the database of the killers computer.

“A hash tree data structure, this dude likes things in groups. He has a NoSQL object oriented database and heavy protection on everything, he’s spent a lot of time protecting his files. This isn’t gonna be easy and I’m really rusty.”

You begin typing in every word combo you can think of, typing as fast as possible.

“Just do the best you can.”

Hotchner says over the speaker, you listen, continuing with any word combo you can think of when remembering his face.

Six minutes pass and you and Penelope still have nothing.

“Can I see another picture of him?”

She tosses a file to you, which you yank open, looking at the photo’s of him.

“Try anything star wars related, specifically characters, maybe a villain of the series.”

You tell her before tossing the folder aside and using your own advice.

Finally, you hear that satisfying noise of success from Penelope’s computer.

“We’re in.”

She enter’s the password into the computer you’re manning, which leads you to a killer’s screen.

A mutilated woman is the background, and you flinch away.

“Oh god...”

You click onto google, but it’s no better, every tab is war and chaos and horrible things. Child porn seems to be popular with him.

“Go through his stuff, look for anywhere he might be.”

You ignore all of the destruction on his desk top, clicking through everything before discovering a location.

“Got it! Go to the daycare at the Starrmole mall!”

“Copy that, all units to the Starrmole mall.”

You close the computer tabs, looking away and turning to Penelope.

“We did it my wonder girl!”

You smile as she holds her hand out for a high five, and you happily smack her hand before sitting back.

“Y’know, you would be really helpful around the office, specifically our offices?”

You look at her, shocked. Was she really recommending that you join the FBI? You couldn’t even say the word without spiraling into a tic attack.

“W-what? You... You want me to... To...”

“I think you would be great at it. You could help me out here, You don’t have to go on the field, you and I could do some serious damage together. The job pays fairly well too!”

At seeing your conflicted face, she sighs before setting a hand on your shoulder.

“Just think about it, okay?”

You nod with furrowed brows before the two of you walk out, waiting for the rest of the station to arrive.

It could be a smart Idea, working for the government instead of against it. Plus, you could do what you love again without fear of being locked up, but then again, you would have to get over looking at dead bodies everyday, you had to be ready to see them at any time.

Instead of thinking about it any longer, you direct your focus to something, or someone, else.

How the hell am I not able to read him?

You think to yourself when the image of the young Doctor fills your brain. You didn’t understand how he managed to avoid your reading, but it made you incredibly curious.

“So, what can you tell me about Dr. Reid?”

You ask Penelope with a slight blush on your cheeks. She looks at you, eyes wide and Jaw on the floor.

“Do you like him?”

You shake your head no, you had just met him! Yeah sure, maybe he was cute, but you didn’t like him like that!

“No way! Not like that! I was just confused at why I couldn’t read him! I don’t like him like that!”

“Like who like what?”

You jump in the air at the new voice, the tall Reid apologizing before sitting down across you and Penelope.

“No one! Like no one like nothing!”

You say rather aggressively, making Reid raise his hands in faux surrender, a smile plastered on his face as he laughs.

“Sorry I asked. So are you thinking of joining the Bureau?”

Your head tilts in confusion as you look at him, how the hell did he know that? As if he could hear your thoughts, he gives an answer.

“Garcia forgot to hang up, so we heard the conversation. Well I heard, everyone else shut their devices off, but I was pretty far away so I just turned around and came back.”

You and Penelope nod, but you look away.

“I’m not sure... I just... I spent my entire life running, but you guys found me, and now I’m supposed to join the forces of good and fight crime? I’m just having a difficult time deciding.”

They look at you with an understanding look, they know you’re having a difficult time with all of this, suddenly being pushed to let down all of your walls now. They knew you hated being center of attention.

Damn profilers...

You almost laugh at your thoughts, but you can’t, because the rest of the profilers and the Police just walked in with a serial killer.

“Well, you might want to choose quickly. We leave first thing in the morning. If you want to join the Bureau, I can talk to Hotch about bringing you with us on the jet, if not, we’ll arrange another jet to take you to any city you want, and you can start living there.”

Your mouth hangs open, it was already ten p.m, and you only had until morning to figure this out? Fucking perfect.

“I’ll go talk to Hotch about it. Spencer, give the girl some space to think, alright?”

The two nod at each other before walking off, Garcia going to inform Hotch and Spencer going to talk to the killer.

“This is a fucking mess.”

-

-

-

-

-

You’ve spent the entire night thinking your options over, but you were still no closer to a choice than you were four hours ago. 

The night is silent. The entire office is asleep and you’re sipping on a cup of coffee, watching the stars as your debate marches on in your brain.

“Hey.”

It’s a deep voice, Derek, he sits in a chair next to you, plopping an arm on the back of your chair.

“Can’t sleep huh?”

You chuckle.

“That’s an oversimplification. I’m just trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do. If I join you, there are so many good things that’ll come out of it, but if I don’t-”

“You aren’t joining the FBI because you’re scared. You think you’re betraying yourself. I’ll tell you right now you aren’t betraying anyone. This is a chance to help yourself. To try something new. It’s a great job believe it or not, and I think you’ll fit right in with the team. Reid, Garcia, Emily, and I already think you’re great, but if you really don’t want to, nobodies making you okay?”

You nod, tears in your eyes as Derek brings you to a realization. You never even thought of it that way, but it made complete sense. Of course you held back because you didn’t want to betray yourself, you always did everything for your past self.

“Thank you Derek...”

Reid already thinks you’re great.

A smile crawls onto your face at the friendships that could be made. Just imagining working late nights with Dr. Reid made you happy.

“Does... Does Dr. Reid really think I’m great?”

He laughs before standing up and walking away.

That didn’t answer my question...

You think to yourself before returning your gaze to the sky. It was so bright, the stars were so easily seen at night. It was gorgeous, the way that the night sky was illuminated with constellations.

The rest of the night is quiet, you let yourself forget about the debate of the FBI job and you let yourself relax, listening to the hum of quiet jazz playing on the speakers.

When the rest of the police department wakes up, the FBI profilers included, they’re saying goodbye to the team and writing in their files. 

The team walks over to where you sit, looking at the sky as you sip on coffee.

“Well, have you made a decision?”

Hotch asks, you look down and spin around to face them,  glancing at their shoes nervously before speaking.

“Well, I have decided... And my decision is that...”

-

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-

A/N: I gotta be honest, I didn't expect that many people to enjoy this story! Just so ya’ll know, Requests are open! If you would like to request a fic for Reid, hotch, morgan, emily, dad!rossi (No romance for rossi, sorry) or any marvel character, just go ahead and ask! Keep me busy guys!

Taglist:

@imsuperawkward @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @l0ve-0f-my-life @hopebaker @spencerreidisbootiful @thatsonezesty13 @nightlygiggless @holybatflapexpert @aberrant-annie @wasabiwitteks

[oiikawabii]

best of friends

oikawa x fem reader x matsukawa, implied iwaizumi x reader

short thing based on this episode of grand army on netflix that was written while i was on a caffeine high after work, so good luck my reading my guy. i really just wanted to get this out before halloween since it’s been a while since i posted and i wanted to get my writing motivation up

Friends fuck each other all the time. The circumstances only suck when one of them is pining and jealous, and the other two don’t actually care about your well being.

tw and cw: ns//fw, noncon, rape, cannabis, public sex 

“So you’re just gonna ignore me all night?” You ask, coming up to Iwaizumi’s side.

He glances at you, but quickly averts his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about-”

“I thought we had a thing going and now you’re all over my friends all of a sudden?” He interrupts. All night he had to watch you be all cuddly with Oikawa, sitting on his lap and giving him puppy dog eyes, but you made it seem like he was the problem. “I mean, like the least you can do is turn me down.”

A scoff mixed with laughter leaves your mouth. “First of all, you mean our friends. I mean, I’ve been part of this group long enough to be considered their friends right? Second, I just want things to stay normal between us; if they change we all fall out with each other.”

“That’s dumb.”

Your arms swing over his neck and you giggle, “You’re dumb.”

He kisses you. Just a peck, a quick one at that, but he was tempted to do more. Though he wasn’t the one who had to initiate when you start sucking faces with him. Iwaizumi wants to go on, he really does, but he’s so done with your shit. 

“I’m not doing this with you tonight.” He says, backing away.

“Iwa,” You whine, reaching out for him but he dodges your hand.

“I’m actually serious this time.”

“Fine, whatever.” You back off and then announce to the others, “I’m gonna go to the restroom. You douches better not leave me here.”

Watching you walk off, Oikawa comes up and pats Iwaizumi on the back. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Fuck off,”

“You gotta chill-”

“Don’t even fucking touch me! It’s not even like that.” He leans away from the touch on his back.

Oikawa snorts. “Yeah, but you were hoping it was gonna be something. You’re so obvious, it’s barely even funny.”

He rolls his eyes. “You love it when she gives you attention. You know, her and I, we’ve actually been-”

“What? Sucking faces?” Oikawa teases. “I mean, I can’t believe you’re hung up on her and still haven’t gotten it in yet. You know how easy she is?”

Iwaizumi knew it was true, though he didn’t like the way it was implied. “Don’t say that about her.”

“She gives it up so easily,” Oikawa laughs. “I got with her! Hell, even Mattsun was able to get with her. If you haven’t been with her yet then maybe, just maybe, it’s because you’re a pussy.”

Iwaizumi's eyes glare at Oikawa and his comment. “No, I’m just not an asshole like you guys.”

“Acting so high and mighty all of a sudden that you’re hung up on one bitch,” Matsukawa comes over and jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You come back out, walking towards them with a pep in your step. “Alright idiots, let’s get going!” You beam, throwing an arm over Oikawa. “Got your hash pen?”

Oikawa pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Don’t steal it.” He scolds, watching you take a hit.

“Too late, this is mine for the night.” You take another hit, blowing it into his face and suppressing a giggle, skipping away from him.

“Fucking idiot.” He laughs, chasing you down the sidewalk. When he catches up to you his arms wrap around your body, lifting you up as your feet kick helplessly.

You squeal, holding on tight to him. “Don’t drop me! Don't drop me!” He hoists you up and down, pretending to lose his grip and almost giving you a death scare.

“Hurry up before we miss the taxi!” Matsukawa calls, running towards the nearest stop with a car about to leave in just a few minutes. 

The group runs toward it, pushing past the busy people on the sidewalk without even a 'sorry' or an 'excuse me'.

“One of you guys should sit in the front.” You comment.

“No, let’s all squish in here.” Oikawa whines, already taking a seat next to Iwaizumi, who was the first inside. He pulls you in after him, tickling your sides and saying some stupid joke about you being all his. He looks over to Iwaizumi, hand resting on your outer thigh, only earning an annoyed sigh in response. The space between everyone grows smaller as Matsukawa gets in last and slams the door shut.

Matsukawa gives the driver instructions before closing the little window that separates the front and the back.

You lean your body over Oikawa to get a clear look at Iwaizumi. “Hey, can we talk or something?” Your response is him shaking his head. “Come on, don’t be that way.” You try to get comfortable and sit next to him, but Matsukawa pulls you back.

“Get over here, princess. If he doesn’t want you then you got us!”

“You fuckers!” You laugh. “I can’t do shit around you guys.”

Another hit. You cheer, throwing your head back as the smoke leaves your mouth.

“Oh my god, are you about to give Matsukawa a show?” Oikawa jokes.

Just to egg you on further, Matsukawa’s hands rest on your hips to help you from swaying with the car. “No,” You drag. “I would never.”

“Come on, show us some moves.”

“How about you show me yours first?” You jab back, poking at his sides. His body jolts, loudly laughing. “Iwa, where are your moves?” You giggle, tracing a finger down his arm. 

“Makki’s already starting to let everyone in for the party, said they were just chilling outside.” Iwaizumi comments.

Matsukawa shrugs. “We’re gonna be late. Fucking traffic!”

You poke at his face, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself. “Think we should bail? Most of the good stuff might be gone by the time we get there.” He says.

“Dude, no, I’m not bailing on this party tonight.” Oikawa retorts. “Tell him he better save some for us.”

“So you’re just not gonna talk to me now?” You pout.

He stops your hand from swinging in his face. “I’m not not talking to you.”

At this point, you’re slurring. Sometimes you forget how easy it is to get high off of hash, especially as a lightweight. “But you’re not having fun with me anymore, and-”

“Okay, sorry! What, you wanna get on top of me too? Give me a lap dance or something, yeah?” He snaps. “You need any more attention? It’s no problem, let’s go.”

It takes a second for you to register what he said. And when you do, your brows furrow, slapping his chest. “Don’t fucking say shit like that.”

“Chill.” Mattsun snorts, grabbing your hands before you could do more damage. 

Oikawa leans over and whispers into his ear. “I promise you, keep acting this way and she definitely won’t be fucking you anytime soon.”

Matsukawa tries to calm you down, running his hand against your cheek, though you can’t easily ignore what Iwaizumi said to you. “You’re so hypocritical, you know? You know how many girls I’ve seen you fuck around with? I mean, let’s just take it back to the girl you fingered in the dirty ramen shop bathroom! And I didn’t say shit, did I? I don’t need you fucking judging me, okay?”

“I’m not judging you babygirl!” Oikawa snickers.

“I get to do whatever I want with you and whoever the fuck I want to do it with! Fuck you, Iwa-chan!” You slur. You take another hit. “I’m just saying, you guys get to do whatever you want; well, so can I.”

His head shakes. “I’m not saying you can’t.”

“But… you are.”

“I’m just saying I don’t need a fucking blunt.” 

You lean back surprised by his comment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant by that. “Scoot over a little.” You tell Oikawa, swinging your legs over Mattsun’s lap and pressing his face between both your hands. You laugh a little, hips grinding into his before pressing your lips onto his.

There’s a loud chuckle from Oikawa as he drums on your back. “Oh shit! Holy fuck!” He takes out his phone and instantly starts recording. The flash shines on and off of you as he tries to capture the moment. 

Iwaizumi sits off on his side, staring down at his phone to ignore the three of you.

“I get to do that! I need to be able to do that!” You proclaim to him. “And you can’t make me feel fucking guilty about it!”

Matsukawa’s hand gently grabs your cheek to pull you back into him and a disgustingly wet kiss. His hands roam up and down your body, squeezing your thighs and making sure to guide your body to what he liked.

“Yo, you’re like hogging her.” Oikawa nags, putting his phone away and pulling at your wrist. “Come on, can’t just leave me out of this babe.”

“Back off ‘Kawa.” Matsukawa mumbles.

You pull away from him, hands resting on his chest. “Hey, don’t be mean. It’s not that hard to share is it?” You slide between the two of them, lips immediately latching onto Oikawa.

He pulls at your coat, pulling it down your arms to expose more of your body. “Jesus, I forgot to tell you how much I love this dress on you.” He breaths.

At this point, there are two pairs of hands on you; Oikawa’s and Mastukawa’s. Mattsun’s are on your hips, teasing you with soft caresses, keeping your body planted against his chest, feeling every exposed area he could get to as he sucks up and down your neck. Oikawa’s hands are squishing your cheeks, making sure to keep you in the kiss for as long as he wants. His fingers tangle in your hair, hardly giving you any escape. You’re on his terms and you don’t get to stop until he does. It’s not long until you feel the need for an actual breath, though he’s still at it--jesus how was his breath control so good?

You hum against his lips to give him a hint. It seems he doesn’t notice, instead thinking you’re just enjoying the pleasure. It’s not until you pinch his waist that he jerks up, panting with red lips. You wipe yours, looking at Iwaizumi to see what he’s up to. 

Back to looking at that damn phone. 

You lean over Oikawa, a hand resting on Iwaizumi’s leg to see if he would pay attention to you. “Iwa-chan… I think you’re missing out.’ You pout. He rolls his eyes, brushing your hand off.

“Screw him, just means more for me.” Oikawa chimes, pulling you back onto him.

“Look who’s hogging now,” Matsukawa’s hand grips your inner thigh, pulling it towards him. You hiss at the feeling, at how rough he was being all of a sudden. Oikawa’s hand grips your other thigh just as harsh, successfully spreading your legs wide open for the two of them.

Your head swings back onto the seat. “Fuck, that hurt.” Your body wriggles against theirs, trying to close your legs. “G-guys… just wait, just wait,” You huff, soft hands pushing at them.

Your pleas go ignored as both of them are on either side of your neck, trailing down feverish kisses. Matsukawa’s hand is the first to trail up your leg, resting between your thighs. His fingers slide up your slit and press down onto your clit, making a choked groan seep through your mouth.

“I know just how you like it.” He whispers in your ear.

“Mattsun- you guys-”

They giggle and chuckle like schoolboys as you try to fight them off, only using more force and putting more pressure down onto your body. Oikawa’s hand is the next to skitter up your thigh. 

There’s no prep, no warning, no comfort as two--maybe even three, you were too hazy to tell--of his finger thrust into your cunt all the way down to the knuckle. Even the kicks of your legs couldn’t keep them off.

“Iwa- Iwaizumi!” You stagger. You could barely get a good look at him through your blurred eyes, but you know he isn’t paying any mind to the three of you at all, off in his own little world.

“You’re so wet.” Oikawa coos, pumping his fingers in and out of you. He’s fast, skilled with his fingers and in any normal situation it would’ve felt good, but it hurt, and it hurt badly. Every time his fingers curl, your body jolts up and he laughs thinking that you’re getting off when really you’re trying to hold back the pain.

Matsukawa isn’t doing anything better for you. His fingers are tracing sloppy circles over your clit, missing and slipping every so often. It doesn’t even feel like he knows what he’s doing when he’s using more than a light pressure in an attempt to get you off. 

Your eyes try to open again to look for help, to look for Iwaizumi. Through hooded eyes, you make contact with him. Your mouth is agape and, god, you’re probably drooling as you look at him. You can’t even get out normal words, just a garbled mess of moans. His eyes fall from your face to your legs that are twisting in pleasure, no, pain? He gives you a disappointed look, turning away from the sight.

“Do you hear the noises her pussy is making, Mattsun?” Oikawa squeals. “She’s so tight, so fucking tight.”

Their fingers trade places and you don’t know if it’s better or worse. Oikawa is more gentle when rubbing your clit, more considerate. Mattsun pumps into you at a steady pace, testing to see what could make you squirm under him. When you do react, hips jutting forward into nothing, he chuckles and says, “Fuck, I wish I could put my cock in you right now.” At this point, it doesn’t matter what happens to you. Everything is starting to hurt, but it also feels good. You’re conflicted and you just know that you want it over with.

“Gonna- gon-” You choke.

“Aw, she’s gonna cum.” Oikawa mocks. Matsukawa snickers after him.

That’s all you heard all night; Oikawa, Matsukawa, and their stupid laughing fit. You just needed them to shut up, to keep quiet.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, biting down on your lip hard enough to bleed just to hold onto some dignity and not sound like a prostitute in the back of a moving taxi. One last thrust of Mattsun’s fingers help you come undone for the two of them.

And what lucky timing it was. The taxi comes to a stop as it pulls up to the house with loud music blaring through the walls.

“I’m sick of your guy’s shit.” Iwaizumi mumbles as he opens the door. 

The other two follow suit in getting out of the car, greeting other peers, and mingling around. Though you’re still processing everything. Your head falls between your knees, wiping the streaks of tears away and putting on a happy face before hopping out to join everyone.

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Serious Inquiries Only: PART 5

*FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE, FOR PART 2 CLICK HERE, FOR PART 3 CLICK HERE, For PART 4 CLICK HERE or SEE MASTERLIST*

Pairing: dom! yoongi x reader ft. Hobi

Warnings: Talk of sexual favors, flirting, crack, humor, Slight angst, Dry Humping (M) (F), Daddy Kink, Glory Hole (M) Receiving.

Rating: 18 and over

Tag list: @mochilicious-yoongi​

Hobi:

“Let me get this straight, you applied for a VIP invite for Y/N to go to the SIO Annual Meet and Greet because you want to reveal yourself as Gloss to her?” Hobi angrily whispers to Yoongi across the table at the quaint diner on campus. “Yes, that’s exactly right.” Yoongi says with confidence, sipping his Iced Americano. “Can I give advice here?” Hobi lifts a finger in the air for permission. “No,” Yoongi clips, “Your advice is the reason I’m stuck in this shitty predicament. I want her Hobi, and I don’t want to wait anymore. I won’t compete with anyone and that includes myself.” “Ah Hyung. I just don’t want to upset her. She can really be, sensitive, you know. I don’t want this to trigger her to close off again like she did with Trevor.” “I’m not Trevor.” Yoongi states. “I know, I know but still. If she freaks out, she will just retreat into her own head and who knows when any of us will see her again.” Yoongi throws himself back, sighing in frustration. Hobi eyes him carefully, trying to gauge whether he is angry. “I’m sorry Hobi. I’m doing this. I sent the invitation already. Enough is enough. She deserves to know, and I deserve an end to this vicious cycle.” “I understand that but Hyung…” “Enough Hobi! I don’t care ok. I’m doing this,” Yoongi shouts, getting up now, pulling his wallet out, and placing money on the table, “I’m sorry to shout. I know you mean well. Breakfast on me. Talk later.”

Hobi enters the apartment he shares with Y/N, trying desperately to avoid her and/or a conversation with her. He shuts the door softly, locking it slowly, and hurrying towards his room. He sighs once he makes it safely, dropping his pouch on his bed and pulling off his jacket. He turns to flick the light on, yelling bloody murder at the sight of Y/N sitting at his computer desk. “What are doing in here?” He shouts. “I was lonely.” She shrugs. He pants, desperately, mumbling under his breath angrily. “I have request to fill today Y/N, so um, please, I need my desk.” He waves for her to move out of his seat. “Sitting in the dark like a creep.” He grumbles, starting his computer. “Did you see Yoongi today?” She inquires, hanging Hobi’s jacket in the closet for him. “Yeah, I did. We had breakfast.” “How is he?” “Good.” Hobi clips, trying to keep things short. “Did he mention me?” “Nope. We talked shop, normal stuff.” “Oh, I guess he’s still mad at me.” Hobi shrugs, “He didn’t mention it.” “Maybe I should go see him.” “Uh, no, he’s working now so, best leave it be.” She nods in response, fiddling with the items on Hobi’s desk. “I really like him Hobi, I just can’t get Gloss out of my head, like I felt a connection with him. I know it sounds dumb but it's true. I wish I was better at this relationship shit.” She sighs. Hobi looks at her as she aimlessly moves about his bedroom. “You know, I think the first step in all this would be to let go of all the shit that happened with Trevor. I feel like you never got over that and it's controlled your every decision since the two of you broke up. Forgive him, not because he deserves it but because you do.” Her eyes light up and she walks over to Hobi and hugs him. “You’re so smart Hobi and right. What would I do without you?” Hobi chuckles, pushing her away jokingly, “Alright, Alright, I’m still traumatized from Yoongi’s birthday. I don’t feel comfortable being this close to you yet.” She laughs, slapping Hobi’s arm and walking out of his room. Hobi throws his head back, groaning loudly, trying to relieve the stress accumulated at his shoulders.

Y/N:

You walk tall, confidence and anxiety fueling your every step. “I got this.” You continue to say over and over, finally arriving at your destination. You yank the door open, the bells chiming loudly as you enter. You walk to the counter and wait. In no time, a person emerges from the back, “Welcome to Iron Ink, how can I help…. Holy Shit. Y/N, hi. What are you doing here?” “Trevor, hi. I think it’s time we talked.”

Yoongi:

“I’ll take the thigh restraints.” Yoongi points at the leather thigh cuffs lined in fur. The employee behind the counter nods, handing him the box. Yoongi takes to reading the back, “Does this come with the wrist restraints?” He inquires. “Nah, but we have the matching ones in the back stock if you want them.” Yoongi nods. “You want the locks as well.” The employee asks. “Yeah, everything.” “You got it Gloss.” The employee says, heading to the back stock room. Yoongi takes to browsing the small shop, his eyes settling on a set of sterling silver nipple clamps. He takes the box off the shelf and reads the back. The employee emerges from the back. “Ah, those are a best seller.” He explains to Yoongi. “Do you have them in gold?” “I do actually.” Yoongi nods. “Excellent. I’ll take them in gold and get me rubber covers for them just in case, oh and more lube.” “You are going all out today. She must be special huh?” The employee smiles. “Very.” Yoongi mumbles, pulling out his credit card and handing it to the employee.

Y/N:

“I must admit, it’s a shock to see you after all this time. I mean, we didn’t end things well.” Trevor explains, pulling a chair out for you to sit in. You look around the back room, remembering all the times the two of you had fooled around back here when suddenly your heart drops and you imagine all the other women he must have fooled around with as well. “We didn’t, did we?” You turn to face him now. “No. I mean things were not good towards the end.” He chuckles. You eye him angrily. “What’s funny?” “Nothing. I mean you were kind of going crazy back then. Showing up unannounced and the arguing was just, well you remember.” “Maybe because my boyfriend was handing out free tattoos with every blowjob.” You snip. He sucks his teeth, sitting up straight. “You know I wasn’t doing that. I’m not going to say I was a saint cause I wasn’t but I wasn’t sleeping with clients.” “Bullshit,” You hiss, “Just be honest Trevor.” He shrugs. “So, you came here to hash things up again? I'm not really interested in doing that honestly. Like if you wanted to catch up and I don’t know, check in, then cool but I don’t want to talk about the past.” “Check in? You mean fuck? Not on your death bed would I bless you with this cunt again.” Trevor laughs out loud at your brazenness. “I know how wild you can get baby girl. Who's taking care of you now a days?” You roll your eyes at his pig-headed question but decide to give him what he wants. “Actually, Yoongi. You remember him, don’t you?” You lean back in the chair you're sitting in and cross your legs, resting your hands in your lap. Trevor tilts his head in confusion, and you watch in amusement as the wheels spin. “Wait a minute. That quiet dude that used to chill with Hobi? Get the fuck outta here. I always knew he had a crush on you. That’s interesting because you were always accusing me of cheating and here you are fooling around with the kid that drooled every time you walked by. Who's the pot and who's the kettle in this equation Y/N?”

You laugh out loud. “You are both pot and kettle. Had I just gotten with Yoongi and ignored you from the beginning I wouldn’t be sitting here looking for closure now.” “Oh, I see, you want closure. Well, here it is for you. You were hot, I knew that Yoongi kid wanted you but he’s an arrogant fuck and I wanted to one up him and guess what, I did. Tell him to enjoy my sloppy seconds.” You gasp, jumping from your seat and slapping Trevor across the face. “Fuck you Trevor! You’re trash. I can't believe it took me so long to realize it.” You say simply, heading out of the tattoo shop. “Hey, Y/N,” Trevor calls out to you, curiosity fueling you to spin and face him. “You said you wanted closure, well, here it is for you. I’m an asshole who played at being a decent guy to get you in my bed. Once I used you up, I went back to what I did best and that’s fuck around. We all have a cross to bear baby girl. I’m not ashamed of who I am. The question here is after all this time, have you figured out who you are without me?” You scoff at his statement, shaking your head, and releasing a huge sigh. “Yeah, I did Trevor, and I couldn’t have done it without you showing me exactly who you are, so thank you and I forgive you. Take care.” You pull the door open, the fresh air from outside blowing your hair back. You close your eyes and let it wash over you when you smile, feeling free finally, of Trevor, of the past.

Yoongi:

Yoongi arrives to his apartment, setting his goodie bags on the ground next to him and digging his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. He grabs his bags once again and grips the knob, turning it and walking into the now locked door. “What the fuck?” He huffs, setting the bags down again and digging his keys out. He shoves them into their respective locks and turns the knob, throwing the door open. “Huh.” He whispers, wondering if he could’ve left this morning without locking the apartment. He grabs his bags and walks into the apartment carefully. He shuts the door quietly, reaching into the umbrella holder by the door for the bat he keeps there. He pulls it out gently and moves throughout his apartment. He notices his bedroom door open and lifts the bat up as he makes his way to his room. He shoves the door open quickly, shouting into the room, “Hands up!” “Well at least you practice safe sex.” His mother drawls, turning around from his bed with his box of condoms and silk ties in her hands.

Yoongi sighs in relief, “Eomma, what are doing in my things?” “I was straightening up this place. It needs a woman’s touch in here. Tell me what are these for? Do you tie women up for sexual pleasure? Are you a deviant?” Yoongi pinches at the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I am not a deviant no, please put those things back and next time don’t go through my things.” She turns around with a grunt, placing the items in the secret drawer she found them in. Yoongi spins and leaves the room, grabbing his bags from the adult store and hiding them in the hall closet. “Why didn’t you call?” He asks, his mother emerging from his room. “Can’t a mother surprise her son for his birthday?” She mumbles, moving around with purpose, inspecting his apartment. “My birthday passed already Eomma. You could’ve just called.” “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in person. You’re always so busy now. I had to pop up.” “About that, that key I gave you, it’s for emergencies only.” “Today was an emergency. Motherly emergency. I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s work?” She shuffles towards Yoongi’s office causing Yoongi’s heart to jump. “Uh, Eomma, come, let me make you tea. I’ll tell you all about work and show you some sheet music.” She stops, smiling at him with a nod. Yoongi turns and begins for the kitchen. “Oh,” He hears her yelp, “Tell me, is this used for piano lessons?” She comes from the hall, holding one of Yoongi’s goodie bags in one hand and the box of thigh restraints in the other.

Y/N:

“Ahhh, fuck, yeah, fuck! I'm cumming.” You cringe, hearing Hobi shout from his bedroom as you enter your apartment. You drop your keys on the counter, a shimmering silver envelope catching your eye. You grab it off the counter and are immediately surprised to see it’s addressed to you. You flip the envelope over and tear it open to reveal an invitation:

Dear WildGoddess11:

You have been exclusively invited to attend Serious Inquiries Only Annual Meet and Greet Event by one our top content creators Gloss93.

Our event will be held Saturday XX-XX-XXXX at 10pm. Please be sure to sign in at our VIP table to receive your exclusive VIP bracelet that will allow you access to some of our latest and greatest products and features, as well as mingle with some of the best content creators across our platform.

We look forward to meeting you.

Remember,

Serious Inquiries Only

Your jaw drops and your heart races as your eyes scan the invite over and over. You haven’t spoken to Gloss in a week and Hobi says he never attends the meet and greet. You needed to talk to Hobi, but you knew he'd kill you if you walked in while he was filming.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Hobi. ‘I need to talk to you ASAP, 911!’. In a frantic flash, Hobi emerges from his bedroom, throwing a shirt on over his head. “What's going on?” He pants. You simply lift the invite up in the air and allow him to take it from you. “Shit.” He whispers, reading the invite quickly, and slapping it in his palm nervously. “What should I do?” You ask, scanning his puzzled face.

“Hey, I’m going to head out. Thanks for the lunch break. Call me later?” A random female waves at you, having popped out of Hobi's room. Your gaze widens watching Hobi walk over and smooch the unknown female. “Sure thing beautiful. Talk soon.” He walks her out and closes the door, heading to the kitchen for a Gatorade. “What?” He asks, plopping down on the couch. “Who was that?” “Later for that. We have more pressing matters at hand.” He clips, raising the invite in the air. “Ok, so, do I accept the invite?” You shrug. Hobi drops his head back, grunting in frustration. “What?” You whine. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I guess I feel bad. This is all my fault. If I hadn't given you Gloss’ code, you wouldn’t be so confused about everything.” Hobi explains, running his fingers through his hair. “No, stop it. I am ok Hoseok, really. I am happy you gave me his code. You pushed me out of my shell and challenged me to get back out into the world. I love you. I mean, I couldn’t do any of this without you!” You walk over to Hobi now and drop down into his lap hugging him. “I love you too Y/N, even if you are a nasty freaking psycho sometimes.” You both burst into laughter, breaking the hug. “Hey, don’t think we aren’t going to address the random girl that just walked out of here. Spill it Hobi!!” You scold, smiling once you see the large grin spread across his face.

Yoongi:

Yoongi sighs deeply, exhausted from having dealt with his mother the night before. He always hated when she popped up on him unannounced, sneaking around his life, searching for some deep dark secret. Yoongi is thankful for his quick wit and being able to convince his mother that the items she found were for a gift for Hobi, whom she’s never met and now never wanted to. He spent the rest of the night, showing her his sheet music and lesson plans for his students, pulling out his old keyboard from his closet and playing for her until she was satisfied enough to leave. What should’ve been a quiet birthday dinner between mother and son, like normal people, turned into a night of mental tug of war. Yoongi drank back his Americano quickly, kicking himself for not getting a larger size, when his phone buzzed.

Goddess: I got your invitation to the meet and greet. I have to say I’m a little confused, why would you invite me to that? I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve never attended. Any reason for the change up?

Me: Yeah… you.

Goddess: I don’t understand.

Me: Promise you will.

Goddess: Well, in that case, I accept. You are officially unblocked. How will I recognize you?

Me: I’ll be wearing a white and gold mask. Text me when you arrive, and I’ll tell you where I am.

Goddess: I am so excited to finally see your face.

Me: I am excited to finally shed this mask.

Goddess: What does that mean?

“Hey.” Yoongi hears, his head popping up from his phone. He smirks catching Y/N put her phone in her pocket. Yoongi pulls in a deep breath. “So, why on earth are we meeting in the student library. It’s a bit, high school romance, no?” Y/N scoffs at Yoongi’s comment. “Actually, I felt like it’s a better option for us. Lots of people around. No funny business, just schoolwork.” Yoongi nods, grinning at her ridiculous assumption. “And using Hobi to get in contact with me, I mean, we aren’t kids.” “It just worked out that way Yoongi. Besides, you were a bit pissed at me last time we saw each other.” “Can you blame me?” “No, that’s why I chose the library. No temptation, out in the open.” She waves her arms around at the space and Yoongi chuckles at the empty space. “There’s no one here because its 9am. The library isn’t crowded until lunch time and I promise you there isn’t a surface in this place that doesn’t have some sticky substance on it.” Yoongi says with raised brows, shaking his head when her eyes pop open.

“Well, anyway I wanted to get started on our project now, so we have less to do later.” “Think you can focus long enough naughty girl?” Yoongi teases, leaning forward to brush his arm against hers. She slides over a bit, clearing her throat and pulling a notebook from her bag. “Did you have a topic in mind?” She asks, opening the notebook looking at Yoongi. “No, I actually haven’t really thought about it.” “Well, I was thinking of doing an expose on social media and the evolution of platforms like SIO.” She suggests causing Yoongi’s brows to fly upwards. “Uh, yeah, no. I’m not really interested in that. We should pick a subject that matters and that we know a lot about.” “Oh, come on, we can interview Hobi. I think it’ll be fun and outside the box.” Yoongi shakes his head, eyeing Y/N suspiciously. “So suddenly you’re the expert on SIO? Why the sudden interest?” He questions. “No reason other than the students at this school really love it and it’s a huge money-making platform.” She shrugs. “Bullshit. Give me your username and I’ll subscribe to your content.” Yoongi teases, trying to see if she’ll open the door for him to confess. She laughs out loud. “You’re adorable. I don’t have an SIO and if I did, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Yoongi breaths in deeply, eyeing their surroundings to be sure it's still empty before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You sure about that naughty girl? I seem to be handling you pretty well don’t you think?” “Uh, Yoongi, stop. We need to focus.” She whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear. Yoongi leans in closer, smelling her sweet perfume, his erection growing as his need flows throughout his body. “Do you really want me to stop? Because if you do, I’m going to need you to stop biting on your lip.” He whispers to her, lifting his hand to pull her bottom lip from her teeth. She groans at his touch, slamming her mouth into his. Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, raptured by her aggressive attack on his mouth. He moans as she shoves her tongue in his mouth, swirling hers around his until she can grasp his tongue with her lips and suckle on it. His cock strains in his jeans and he is grateful when she straddles him, driving her sex across his jailed member. “So much for focusing on schoolwork.” Yoongi groans between kisses. “Shut up before I change my mind.” She pants, grinding down harder into his lap. “Fuck.” Yoongi grunts, lifting her up and sitting her onto the desk in front of him. He takes her mouth into another lustful kiss, making his way down her neck, nipping at the soft flesh.

He stands up straight, making himself comfortable between her legs. “Yoongi…” She whines. “Shh. You wouldn’t want anyone to hears us would you,” He warns, gripping her by hips and pulling her forward until her sex is pressed firmly against his massive hard on, “Now, do daddy a favor and let him watch you fuck yourself against his cock. Quickly naughty girl, it seems like there’s a crowd building in here.” He teases, hitching his hips forward to run across her clit. She gasps at the feeling, taking no time in grinding against him again. He takes her hips and pulls her closer against him, the feeling of her trembling walls teasing his cock in the most amazing way. Her head falls back and Yoongi drinks in the sight of her panting and moaning softly, her wetness beginning to soak into the front of his jeans. “That’s it naughty girl. Just like that.” He encourages, moaning softly when she picks up her speed, her cunt flicking across his clothed tip. “Shit. You keep that up and you just might make me cum in my jeans. Would you like that naughty girl?” “Yes.” She whimpers, hooking one of her legs around his waist and pulling Yoongi closer to her core. She grips the back of his shirt tightly, moaning softly. “Please, daddy, suck my tits.” She begs, yanking down her top now, to expose one of her perky nipples. Yoongi growls, leaning his head down to wrap his pout around the pert bud, rolling his tongue along her piercing, a loud moan escaping her throat but Yoongi could care less if they are caught now.

His cock is too hard, and her cunt too soaked for him to ever stop now. He hums around her nipple, releasing it quickly and taking over the situation, feeling his climax building with every flick across his sensitive tip. He yanks her closer, wrapping both her legs around his waist and begins to hitch his hips upwards, gliding his needy erection across her sex, wondering when the last time he dry humped anyone was. She moans wildly causing Yoongi to cover her mouth as he wraps his arm around her waist, humping her faster and faster. Her breath quickens and thighs begin to shake. “Hold on for me naughty girl. I’m so close.” He grunts, his body burning, balls tightening, and stomach clenching. He grips her mouth tightly, panting into her ear, “I’m going to cum.” She nods her head, reaching up to pull his hand from her lips. “Me too, me too.” She moans. Yoongi groans as quietly as he can, his hot seed spurting out onto his balls and dripping down his jeans to his thigh. Y/N on the other hand, cries out loudly, biting onto Yoongi’s neck to hush herself before he can cover her mouth. “Fuck!” Yoongi hisses as Y/N clenches down harder on his neck, slowly releasing him when she comes down from her high. They are both panting messes when Yoongi takes a step back. She doesn’t say anything for a while, she just slides off the desk, gathering her things. “Yoongi, I…”  He looks her over and scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. I know how this goes. You gotta go right? This was wrong and what not. It's cool. I have to go home and shower anyway. I like the SIO idea.” He clips, trying to keep his composure. “Really? So, we’re good?” She inquires. He nods, not having a care in the world, safe in the knowledge that all will be revealed at the meet and greet.

HOBI:

“You look amazing Y/N.” Hobi smiles at his friend in her Rose pink skintight mini dress. “Do you think Gloss will like it?” She twirls. “I think he’s going to love it.” “I think it suits being a VIP at a fancy meet and greet event.” She giggles. “It definitely does, well, I'm gonna go ahead if you’re ok. The content creators are always asked to arrive before the event starts.” “I'm good. Go have fun and I'll see you there.” She waves him off. He takes her in one more time, feeling warm at how bright and happy she looks. “You really look great Y/N.” “Thanks Hobi.” He nods and head out the door.

He arrives at the event, smiling wide when he sees Yoongi clad in an all-black suit, clutching a white and gold full face mask. “How phantom of the opera of you.” He notes. Yoongi chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t know Hoseok, maybe this was a bad idea.” “No, no, no. Hey come on, Fighting! You got this! She looks amazing tonight by the way. You’re gonna drop dead. She’s just glowing, really.” Hobi can't help but gloat, leading Yoongi into the event. Yoongi slides his mask on, following closely behind Hobi. “Really? I can't wait to see her and get this charade over with.” “I just hope she remembers that we are friends and I have loved and supported her all these years, you know for when she goes to kill us.” Hobi laughs loudly. They approach the sign in table for content creators and check in, walking about the event. “Shit, look at this place.” Yoongi notes, looking around the space in amazement. “Yeah, last year they had GO-GO dancers, a motorcycle show, the works. This year I hear they have a lot of high-tech sex toys.” Hobi watches as Yoongi just nods, still looking about. “Hey, listen, I wanted to tell you something.” Hobi cuts in, drawing Yoongi’s attention. “What’s up?” Yoongi asks. “I asked Hannah to be my girlfriend.” Yoongi stops, turning to Hobi. “Shit. You really like her huh? Well, I called it. I'm happy for you Hoseok. Maybe after Y/N kills us we can all double date.” Hobi laughs loudly, patting Yoongi on the back. “For sure and you really did call it didn’t you. Great intuition I’m telling you.” Hobi praises, pushing Yoongi further into the event.

Y/N:

You arrive at the event on time, making your way over to the VIP table to check in. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves you can't seem to shake. “Your name.” The check in clerk asks and you lean in close to give it to her. She smiles widely, handing you a VIP lanyard. “Enjoy the event. You’re super lucky, this is the first time that this content creator has ever attended an event.” You smile and nod, cringing when you walk away at the added nerves from the clerk's comment.

Me: I’m here.

Gloss: I’m in the VIP showroom.

Me: Ok, I am going to come find you.

Gloss: I'll be waiting.

You move through the event with ease, stopping every so often to check out some of the vendors and even chat with other content creators, buying time before you have to meet with Gloss, your nerves at an all-time high. You walk through the curtain to the VIP showroom, flashing your VIP tag to the security guard as you enter. You check out some of the vendor tables as you pass by, eyes widening at all the amazing new tech they offer. You stop at a table, checking out the toys at the table, your eyes scanning a vibrating anal plug. “40 percent off for VIPs.” The vendor says out loud to you. “Uh, that’s ok. I was just looking.” “Sure thing. It has 4 different speeds plus it heats up when the speeds increase.” “Wow.” You giggle. “Yeah, it’s a best seller on our website. Take my card.” He hands it to you and you nod, putting it in your clutch and walking off.

You make your way towards the back of the showroom and stop again at these two huge connected pods. “What on earth is this?” You mumble. “Ah, I’m glad you asked,” A very enthusiastic vendor boasts, “This here is a state of the art, never before seen, Glory Hole.” “Like a bathroom glory hole.” He laughs at your statement. “Essentially yes but this one is much cleaner and more intimate. It has a larger more comfortable, adjustable hole for the gentlemen as well as a vibrating saddle for the ladies to sit comfortably and get her own pleasure. Our technology is state of the art, the walls are full on touch sensitive and ignite with bursting colors when you or your partner touch or glide your hands against them. There is also a panel on the wall that allows for complete communication between the two pods, you can switch between three modes. First mode disguises the voice if you want to keep things nice and discreet, Second Mode allows you to talk naturally with your normal speaking voice if that’s what you prefer, and Mode Three shuts the coms off so your partner won’t be able to hear you. The panel also controls the lights in the room and the colors of the walls. So, what do you think? You wanna give it a go?” Your eyes pop open. “Excuse me?” You snap. The vendor laughs, “Not with me. Uh, whomever you’re here with, a content creator or boyfriend. We are offering testing for 60 percent off when you leave a review and refer a friend. We completely sanitize the room after every use, although you’d be the first using it tonight if you sign up and there are also UV lights in the room, constantly killing germs. We are quite popular at parties. I can always give you my card if you aren’t interested now. I know it’s a lot of information.”

Gloss: Where are you? Please don’t tell me you got cold feet.

You look down at the message, your heart fluttering, hearing Hobi’s voice in your head, ‘Be brave.’ “You know what, I think I am interested in trying it now.” “Great!” The vendor smiles, leading you over to the table to set up your payment. You swipe your card and send Gloss a text.

Yoongi:

Goddess: Meet me by the Giant Blue Pods, ask for Marcus.

Yoongi sighs, walking quickly towards the back of the showroom. He soon sees the giant blue pods and begins to look around for Y/N. “Are you Gloss?” A man approaches. “Uh, Yeah. Are you Marcus?” “Yeah,” The man sticks his hand out for Yoongi to shake. Yoongi shakes it, puzzled when Marcus turns his hand over to admire it. Yoongi’s brow furrows and he pulls his hand back. “Sorry man, I heard a lot about your hands.” “Uh, ok. Thanks, I think.” “Definitely a compliment. Anyway, you aren’t here for me. Right this way.” Marcus states, leading Yoongi towards the door on the left. “I don’t understand. I am supposed to be meeting someone.” Yoongi explains. “I know. Panel on the wall controls the coms. First mode is to disguise your voice, second comp is to speak naturally, Third shuts coms off completely. Otherwise, just have fun.” Marcus opens the door and Yoongi enters it, hearing the lock click once inside. “Welcome Gloss.” The Pod speaks causing Yoongi to jump back. “It’s me, Goddess.” Yoongi removes his mask, walking toward the panel on the wall and clicking on the first mode to disguise his voice. “What’s all this about?” He asks. Looking around at how the room lights up pink and blue when she giggles. “I was nervous to see you face to face so I figured this was easier.” He nods, running his fingers along the wall, jumping back when he sees it light up red. “Cool right?” She laughs. “What is this thing? A confessional?” He moves about the empty room. “It’s a modern-day Glory Hole.” She giggles, Yoongi smiling when the room lights up with her laugh.

“Are you serious?” “Sure am.” “And what exactly are we doing in a Glory Hole?” She giggles again. “I wanted to be able to speak freely but I was super nervous for some reason, silly I know, and since I know how much your anonymity means to you, I figure this was the best option. Besides, you never did show me your cock.” Yoongi laughs now, the room lighting up orange and red. “Did you set these lights up?” “I did, do you like it? I can change it or you can with the panel on the wall. I was waiting for you so I had to time to play with the settings.” “And the wall, it lights up too.” He inquires, moving towards the wall and placing his palm against it, a ring of red burst from beneath it. “Yeah, every time we touch it.” She explains, a burst of pink light emerging from beneath Yoongi’s palm which leads him to believe she is pressing her palm against his. “I want to see you. I have to talk to you face to face.” Yoongi swallows, dropping his hand. “We aren’t face to face but feel free to talk.” “Its better if we are face to face.” “I want you Gloss.” Yoongi scoffs. “You don’t even know me.” “Of course, I do and I’ve never been more attracted to someone in my life.” Yoongi scoffs at her comment, his heart nearly breaking at the thought that he’s lost Y/N to Gloss, an alter ego. “You really don’t.” “Don’t you want me?” She practically moans, causing Yoongi’s cock to twitch. “Of course I do.” He whispers, pressing his hands against the wall, smirking when the red bursts of light shoot out.

The machine makes a sudden whirring sound and Yoongi gasps at the sudden feeling of a hand on his crotch. He looks down to see a square opening in the wall, Y/N’s hand poked through rubbing at his growing erection. “Fuck.” He moans, pressing his crotch into her palm. “Let me suck your cock, please Gloss. I want you so bad.” She moans. The lights in the room suddenly dim and Yoongi moves towards the panel to try to turn them back on, not sure what he’s clicked on. He sucks his teeth, fiddling with his belt buckle, pouting when he sees her hand disappear through the hole. He frees his cock from its confines and begins to stroke it, his head falling back. “How do we do this?” He asks but she doesn’t respond. “You still there?” Her voice comes through. “Yeah.” He grunts, slowing his strokes down. She doesn’t respond and he realizes he’s turned his coms off. “Shit, hold on.” He says, moving towards the panel. “I don’t know what happened but put your cock through the hole baby.” She says in the neediest voice and Yoongi clicks on the panel button quickly, moving towards the hole and sticking his cock through. He immediately feels her hot wet tongue glide across his slit and he moans out, pressing his body firmly against the wall, biting down on his lip as the room cascades blue. She swirls her tongue gently around his tip, teasingly taking him inch by inch into her warm mouth. Yoongi bites down harder on his lip, stifling back the moan in his throat.

She soon moans around his cock, sending shockwaves through out his core, a soft vibrating sound filling his pod. Yoongi can’t hold back anymore, a loud groan escaping when she begins to bob back forth across his full length. “Shit.” He cries out when she takes him to the back of her throat, the sounds of her gagging filling his pod. He reaches down and cups his balls, tugging on them as she begins to bob on his cock again, pull back to his tip, suckling at the sensitive head, eliciting an animal like sound from him. He slams his fist against the wall, a red flash bursting throughout the room. She removes her mouth from his length, gasping and moaning out loud, sending chills down his spine. “Fuck Goddess. You sound so fucking sexy.” “I don’t know if you can hear me,” She begins, “But I’m so fucking wet, gliding my pussy across this vibrating saddle. I wish I was wrapped around your cock.” “Fuck.” He groans, stretching his arm out to try and reach the coms panel to turn it back on first mode. He strains, unable to keep his cock in the hole and reach the panel. He contemplates removing his member from the hole to turn on the coms when Y/N takes his cock back in her mouth.

“Fucking shit.” He cries out, the feeling of her running her tongue along the sensitive skin beneath his tip. He strains once again to reach the panel, his middle finger tapping the panel, her groan filling his pod when his cock slides from her lips. “Sorry baby.” He pants, standing tall now. “Can you hear me now?” He asks but Y/N just slurps his cock back into her mouth, using nothing but her tongue and hollowed mouth to yank him back towards her, his body hitting the wall. “Shit, you take my cock so well. Such a good girl for me.” She begins to bob faster, the walls lighting up pink at what Yoongi assumes are her hands against the wall. She moans frantically against his cock, her pace only quickening and Yoongi wonders if she’s close to cumming. He closes his eyes, imaging what she looks like right now, gliding her sopping cunt across that saddle, his cock hitting her throat. He moans freely now, hitching his hips forward uncontrollably as he keeps pace with her. He bends his knees a bit when she begins to gag and swallow his cock down her throat. The sweet sensation of her soft palate rubbing against his tip. She moans harder, swallowing more and more of him, his legs begin to shake as his balls tighten into his body. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking amazing. I’m going to fucking cum. Shit.” He moans unabashedly, slamming his fist hard against the wall to warn her, since he knows she can’t hear him.

Her moans are louder now and desperate, and Yoongi just knows she cumming, the feeling of her throat vibrating around his cock sending him over the edge. “Oh. My. Fucking. God. Y/N, fuck, I’m fucking cumming baby.” He cries out, slamming his hip against the wall, his cock nestled firmly in her throat as his orgasm shoots out from his tip, coating her throat. She swallows him back with ease, sucking him through his high, pulling away and lapping the last bits of his arousal off his tip. He presses his forehead against the wall, laughing when it lights up the room pink. He moves towards the coms to turn them back on as he tucks himself away. He squints at the panel, his heart dropping when he sees its on the Second Mode. “FUCK! Y/N!” He shouts, looking down to be sure his cock is away and yanking on the booth door until it clicks open. He moves towards the door where Y/N should be and yanks it open…. EMPTY. “FUCK!” Yoongi yells. Marcus approaching him. “Hey man, she ran out. Everything ok?” “Yeah,” Yoongi pants, “Did you see which way she went?” Marcus points towards the exit of the VIP showroom and Yoongi goes running after her. He sprints towards the exit, slamming into Hobi. “Hyung, what the fuck is going on?” Yoongi is panting, desperately trying to catch his breath. “I fucked up Hobi, she left. I fucked it all up, I’m so fucking stupid!” He yells. “Hey, hey. Calm down. Put your mask on, people are looking at us.” Hobi warns. Yoongi puts his mask on happily, warm tears streaming down his face. “I fucked it all up.” He whispers. “Calm down Hyung. Let me call her ok. See where she is.” Yoongi shakes his head trying to stop Hobi from making the call. “Hey where are you?” Hobi asks on speaker phone. “Of all the men who would break my heart Hoseok, I never thought it’d be you.” She says with briefly, hanging up the phone. “What the fuck did you do?” Hobi turns to Yoongi, his face flushed red, an anger Yoongi has yet to see.

[ill-skillsgard]

A little something where the reader and Kasper were together in highschool, but broke up, only to meet a few years later and rekindle their love 😭

Awww, yes! I haven't written any fluff in so longgg. And I love Kasper with my whole heart. Please, more Kasper stuff! I need him in my life. +

Sports was never your thing. You had seen the odd hockey game, took part in Superbowl festivities if not for the hoards of fried food, and caught a fraction of the Olympics every four years. By no means were you a fanatic and certainly didn't fit in with your sports fan friends, all of which had dragged you to a European football game. You agreed to go with only a flutter of hesitation. It's not that you wouldn't have fun drinking overpriced beer with your pals; it was that you had no emotional ties to either team and couldn't genuinely join in the cheer of a win or the disappointment of loss. To you, it was all just a game, and the points weren't real.

Admittedly, it was impressive watching the players finesse the ball with nothing but their feet and heads, and you cheered on with the rest of the crowd. During the hubbub of a recent goal, the guy your friends had introduced you to shook his fists and bellowed curses. His name was John, and he had been the most zealous with the fanfare and criticisms.

"Ah, we'll get 'em next time," you supplied. "It's only fifteen minutes in."

"Not with the way these guys are playing. Look, I could run circles around that forward, and our goalie is acting like a total pansy."

You flinched from the comment. John ground his teeth together and waited for the next drop-in. As you sipped your beer and sat down, the empty seats on your right filled up. Soon, you were boxed in with showgoers who all bore the colour green in some fashion. The away team's colour. This did not sit well with John, and you became invisible.

John continued to yell and boo the other team, rousing blowback from the surrounding enemy. It was okay, you told yourself. Maybe it wasn't a match. He was far too loud and not in a fun way. His comments continued deteriorating into ignorance. You kept your eyes on the field and the players, blocking out the negativity standing next to you. Your only solace was that John's screaming blended in with the other hollers and hoots from the stadium chairs. Friends to the left were fully ensconced in the intensity of the plays that they didn't notice or chose to ignore John's slurs.

The crowd tightened like a knot while the ball careened toward the home team's goalie, then snapped like a rubber band. The keeper dove a fraction too soon, and the ball sailed between outstretched arms and hit the net. It happened in a blink, and so too did the fight that broke out next to you. Your full drink flew, splashing down your shirt as you were knocked back into the stranger next to you. At first, it felt like falling. You scrunched your face in anticipation of a hit, but only two arms caught you and whirled you away from the violence.

When you looked back, you saw a white and green jersey, and beyond that, John restrained and screaming at another man in the row before.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up at the person who had shielded you from flying elbows but not from flying drinks and saw a face that aligned with the vaguest of memories. He was tall, and somehow his scent took you aback. You had breathed it before.

"Kasper?"

"Holy shit, it's you!"

"You remember me?"

"Of course I do! Oh my God. Jesus, what's going on? Are you with him?" Kasper asked.

You backed away like the rest of the units around your seat. Security recognized the scuffle, though John was well on his way out after a half-ass apology to your mutual friends. Once John's spot was vacated, they came to you with apologies. Kasper remained next to you. They dabbed at your wet shirt, but it was no use. Your front was soaked.

Kasper pulled off his jersey and tried handing it to you.

"Here. Take this. Go to the washroom, and change into it. Don't worry, it's clean. I just bought it. Plus, I have others."

"Really?"

"Yes! Go, get cleaned up and come back to watch my team whoop your team's ass!"

"Actually, I don't really have a team. This is my first game. I really don't have any stock in either of the players. I just like that they're having fun."

Kasper laughed and thrust the jersey into your arms.

"Now you have a team. Go on!"

Strangely enough, you listened to Kasper, a boy you once dated for a total of two weeks in high school. He had been an exchange student while his family temporarily relocated for work. They worked in movies, and dating Kasper had been a thrill for the whispers and enjoyable because he was a nice guy. Circumstance had forced your adolescent fling apart, but you did not part on bad terms.

After many years, the landmark of dating Kasper shrunk on your timeline until it was nothing but a blip. You thought of Kasper from time to time, though the thought of ever seeing him again seldom crossed your mind when you had done so many other things. It made the coincidence seem like fate. And when you returned to your seat wearing his jersey, the glimmer in his eyes affirmed what you hoped to be true. He was overjoyed to see you, too.

Kasper's team won the match, and as fans packed up to leave the stadium, Kasper turned to you with a mischievous smile.

"Are you in town for long?"

"A couple of days," you said.

"Come out for a drink with me."

"When" You chuckled.

"Now. We're going to a pub right now."

You looked back at your friends who had secretly deemed your chance encounter with a past beau as the best thing to happen to the entire group. They encouraged you and agreed to meet with you later on or, if things went well for any of you, in the morning.

Kasper led you out of the venue and stuck close enough your arms brushed. The conversation flew. Memories upon memories hashed, evolving into stories, questions and laughter. Soon, Kasper was touching your hand until you hooked his pinky. One small finger gave way to two, three and more. You looked down at your clasped hands, and both of you giggled and turned warm.

"I'm so glad I ran into you. You're gonna love this place," said Kasper.

"I will?"

"Yes! Don't worry. We're almost there."

Thrust under poor lighting, you met a gaggle of Kasper's friends and stood by listening to the Swedish conversations with a sheepish grin. Not long after, Kasper hid you away in the corner of a booth at an Irish pub with a similar crowd to the place you had just left. The low ceilings and sturdy décor loaned the atmosphere a cozy intimacy, and the highbacked tables shielded flirtatious looks.

"Can you believe we dated when we were kids? What did we know about anything back then?"

"I can believe it. You were pretty. You're still pretty. And fun. Wait... You're not seeing anyone, are you?"

"Do you think I'd be holding your hand if I were?"

Kasper blushed. "Yeah, I guess not."

"I'm glad we ran into each other, too. Can you believe my friends tried setting me up with that asshole at the game? They texted me and said he's usually chill. He must have had too many beers and lost his filter, so they say."

"Who cares about that guy."

You stared at Kasper's welcoming lips, turned up lazily and lopsided. There was enough glow on his face to light your private little corner. Kasper turned down another beer and continued staring at you like he was expecting you to say something.

"I'm just going to come out and say it... I really wanna kiss you right now. Can I do that?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

The words slipped from your mouth, and soft, plushy kisses took your breath and replaced it with the taste of beer and tongue. You settled close to Kasper, circling his torso and splaying your hands on his back. He clutched your shoulders and stroked your collarbones and the sides of your neck. When he scooped your jaw upward to ease his angle, you both pulled away slowly and watched your eyes open.

"What else are you doing tonight?" Kasper asked.

"You tell me."

"Should I behave? I don't want to put pressure on you."

"No way. I have the night to myself, and I'd love to see where it goes."

"Well, aren't I lucky?"