#I have so many business cards I’m gonna follow so many artists

[ariana1881]

I just came back from my first Otakuthon ever

I think I’m gonna cry

[lavenderbexlatte]

play you on repeat

stray kids  11.8k words female reader insert FemDom!Reader x Sub!3RACHA EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: unprotected sex, degradation 🖤

Series Masterlist (Parts 1-7)

connect with me! / masterlist

The three of them follow you all the way to the front door in a line like little ducklings, eager-eyed and silent as you part the crowds of students and friends on your way outside.

You only see those eager eyes when you turn around on the front porch of the random house that's throwing this party. Changbin stands just behind you, Jisung after him and Chan bringing up the rear.

They really want more, then. Their instant agreement kind of surprises you; it's one thing to flirt or make out with someone at a party, but it's another thing entirely to invite random classmates home for an orgy. But you're not crazy or stupid enough to let the chance pass you by. You're all in.

"Okay, boys," you say, "Where are we doing this?"

"Me and 'Bin live together," says Chan quickly.

You regard him coolly. "Just you two?"

"Just us," he nods.

That's promising. You live independently but you have roommates, and while you're sure you could sneak one hookup into your room, three of them might turn some heads. Your roommates are patient, but not that patient.

So you smile at them. "Okay. I trust you three aren’t gonna try any dirty tricks on me?"

"Dirty tricks?" Changbin repeats.

You shrug. "Stealing my wallet. Selling me into indentured servitude. Harvesting my organs. The usual nightmare date stuff."

"Why would we do that?" Jisung asks, looking amused but also concerned.

Is he worried that you don't trust them? That's kind of cute.

You just smile wider. "We don't know each other very well, I’m a woman and you’re three men. You guys might be dangerous."

It’s obvious that you’re teasing them. You can't help but laugh a little, saying it, since you’ve actually been alone with the three of them before, for your school project some weeks ago. Besides, the most unpredictable and potentially dangerous person here is you. That's already been proven. The three of them seem just as amused as you, though, so you've succeeded in breaking any tension that was gathering.

"Did you guys drive here?" you ask.

"No," says Jisung.

"Neither did I," you say, “I was planning on getting drunk.”

"No worries. Called a cab already," says Chan.

His cocky attitude is back as he waves his phone in your direction, the screen showing a little animated car tracing its way to your location. When did he order a ride? More importantly, at what point did he assume you were gonna wanna go back to his place? He's right, of course, and you do want to, but come on.

"Presumptuous," you tease.

He shrugs. "Well, 'Sung has roommates, and I figured you wouldn't want three near strangers at your place."

The flash of his eyes lets you know that he’s feeling quite high and mighty for having made up your mind for you. Oh, you're going to have to break this attitude ASAP.

You set about thinking of exactly how to do that as you meander toward the road to wait for the car, trusting that someone will tell you when it arrives. You stand on the sidewalk in the dim circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Chan wants more, right?

So do you. Three boys...three boys who are all partners, it seems. There's gonna be some finagling tonight, some organization needed. You ponder exactly what you want from them. The options are endless, truly. This is going to be very, very good.

When the car pulls up, Changbin comes over and slings his arm around your waist, like he's the one taking you home and not the other way around (figuratively, at least). You look at him, amused, relishing how you can almost meet his eye with the small difference between his height and yours.

"What's this?" you ask, gesturing at his arm around you.

"I'm being gentlemanly," he pouts, bottom lip pushed out exaggeratedly, "Don't kill the vibe."

He's being silly, you realize. That firm confidence from before is gone, replaced by what seems to be an eager desire for you to like him. He's in luck, then. You already like him.

You climb into the back seat of the small black sedan, scooting all the way over to the far window seat. Chan follows right behind you, settling in the middle with Jisung after him. Changbin is up front with the driver. You can tell that the boys would rather have you in the middle seat by the way that Chan and Jisung are playfully glaring at each other, but you much prefer to have your own space by the window. Nobody likes the middle seat.

The boys busy themselves with their phones on the ride, but you just watch the boys instead. You can tell that they know you're watching. Jisung meets your eye once and looks away quickly, grinning, and Changbin is just barely resisting turning all the way around to look at you head-on. You think you know what you want to do with those two, since they're pretty communicative and easy to read, so you study the real predicament.

Chan.

He's got pretty hands, you notice, as he taps away at his phone. He also has one of those dorky leather phone cases with wallet pockets. You just can't get into those; young people use them a lot, now, but you always associate them with dads and teachers and stuff. Old people. Chan's is full of cards, his student ID and a credit card and others. You peer closer at his driver's license with its tiny picture of him. His curly hair is blonde in the photo, which is cute.

You notice something else, too - his birthdate. Chan is in your year in school, but you never knew...

"Are you...are you younger than me?" you ask him, delighted.

He blinks at you. "How old are you?"

You tell him - a year or so older than him. It's not much, but definitely something in a society that puts so much emphasis on age. It also puts you at the oldest in this group by a bit of a margin, considering Changbin is a couple years younger than Chan and Jisung is younger still.

"That makes me the noona tonight," you tease.

Chan gives you an alarmed side-eye, his pale cheeks blushing furiously and his pupils blown big. He's into the noona thing, too? You wonder exactly how many little one-ups you're going to have on him tonight.

So you're the oldest. Hm. You grin to yourself. So they thought they were bagging a shy, quiet submissive, and instead they got you.

The ride to their place is short, and you're surprised when the cab pulls up in front of a small one-story house instead of an apartment building. Not many students around here have homes, since housing prices in the city are predictably sky-high and out of the average student budget. The boys get out of the car right away, thanking the driver, but you take your time. You study the house, the cars in the driveway (two of them, one silver sedan, one black mid-size SUV) and the neat front garden.

"A house," you say mildly.

Changbin looks embarrassed for the first time that night, as he stutters, "My family - I'm - we have-"

"Fucking PILES of money," Chan finishes for him, grinning, "I pay him rent, can you believe it?"

"I didn't want him to pay anything but he insisted," Changbin says.

"I'm not a freeloader," Chan insists.

"You think I'm gonna make my own boyfriend pay rent when I could buy him his own house?" Changbin grumbles, heading up the front walk.

Jisung has already let himself into the house uninterested in the conversation. He doesn't live there, you remember, but obviously he's no stranger. You follow Changbin inside, vaguely aware of Chan coming after you. It's a cute house, you admit to yourself, as you step in the door and kick off your shoes.

It does look like a house where a bunch of boys live, though. An artists' den. There's music equipment strewn all over the small living room; Bluetooth speakers, a midi board, a full-size electric keyboard, a drum pad. Propped on a small table in the corner is a silver slab that you realize is a YouTube subscriber award plaque, and there’s a Soundcloud affiliate certificate next to it.

"The rumors about you guys are true, then," you say, mostly to yourself, not even thinking.

Changbin looks at you, confused. So does Jisung. Chan just smiles lopsidedly.

"What rumors?" Jisung asks.

"Oh." You can feel your face heating up. "Just that you guys are...musicians."

You were actually thinking about their minor celebrity status, their Soundcloud rapper status, but you don't know if that will come across as...like...offensive? Is it rude to call people Soundcloud rappers, since that’s kind of become an insult? They're obviously even more well-known than you thought, if the 100k subs plaque is anything to go off. Not just campus royalty, but actually somewhat famous. It’s bizarre.

"Musicians," Chan repeats, amused.

You kind of hate the expression on his face. He's still holding onto that weird confident charm from the party, the face that you assume he puts on in these situations to pretend he's not one good hair-pull away from whining and begging.

"You can't pretend that you don't know," you say, more aggressively than you mean to, "On campus, with everyone from school…you guys are super...popular."

It sounds so stupid to say, like you're the ugly duckling in a bad teen movie. 'You can’t like meeeee, you're soooo cool and popular!'

"Are we?" Jisung asks, looking genuinely surprised.

Oh my God. You want to facepalm. You want to grab one of them and shake them.

"You literally tried to seduce me in there," you point out, "Would that have worked if you weren't popular? That's something popular people do. Use their, like, social standing to get people to sleep with them."

"That would make us pretty shitty people," Chan says delicately. "Imbalance of power and all that."

Oh. You didn't mean to accuse them of anything. You open your mouth to apologize, feeling incredibly out of place, but Jisung interrupts you, completely unbothered.

"It's only worked once before, anyway," he says.

"...Picking someone up?" you ask.

Changbin nods, "And that only worked because Felix already had a crush on me and Chan. We just had to sell him on Jisung."

"Hey!" Jisung pouts.

Chan pets his hair placatingly, and Jisung shrugs him off in favor of heading for the kitchen, mumbling about being a fucking catch. But you’re focusing on a different bit of what Changbin told you.

"You guys fucked Felix Lee?" you ask, incredulous.

“Maybe a month ago, yeah,” Changbin says.

The cute, freckled face of dance team captain Felix Lee swims in your mind for a moment, followed by the memory of his chiseled abs from a performance earlier in the year. He’s a rising sophomore, but solidly half of campus has a crush on him. Damn, THOSE are their standards, and they wanna fuck YOU? You gotta start giving yourself more credit.

"So, we're popular," Chan muses.

"You had to have known that," you shake your head, "Literally everyone knows you. First years are so thirsty for you. That's why I was so-"

You cut yourself off. They don't need to know that you were flustered when they approached you, back there. They don't need the ego trip.

So you just affix your best innocent smile to you face, looking the three of them over. Chan, leaning against the back of the couch. Changbin, lining up all four pairs of shoes (theirs and yours) by the front door. And Jisung, returned from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he's chugging like a dying man.

"You didn't invite me over to talk about your social status," you say instead.

"We sure didn't," Chan agrees.

"First things first, then," you say, "Boundaries. You guys have any hard limits? Safewords? Musts and don'ts?"

"Nope," says Jisung, taking another sip of the water to punctuate it.

"No musts or no don'ts?" you ask.

"Yes," he quips.

You can't help the way your smile grows. "Alright. Anyone else?"

"No serious degrading," Changbin says, very very quietly.

“Praise motivated, huh?” you coo, “Cute.”

Changbin looks slightly embarrassed, but his eyes are sharp and engaged as he adds, “And no digs at my size.”

You grin. "Size or size?"

"Either!" he pouts.

"Sounds fair to me," you say.

You fix your eyes on the last one: Chan, still looking only mildly interested and very calm. But you can see the very tips of his ears going red, and then it spreads down his cheeks, and then down his neck as you watch him.

And finally, he says, "I'm not good with praise."

Jisung laughs, loud and ridiculous. "That's an understatement."

You smile warmly at Chan, not wanting him to back down if this is a legit thing for him, "So does that mean no praise?"

"No," he says immediately, "Just that...if you - I get all-"

"Flustered," you finish for him. "Good to know."

You pause for a second, wondering what kind of hard limits you'll need to bring up to them tonight. They don't seem like the kind of partners to push you into anything, if they way they're already tiptoeing around is any indication.

"I don't like hitting in the face," you say, after a moment. "Or blood."

Changbin gives you a look. "Is that the kind of stuff you do on your first night with someone?"

You laugh, "No, not usually. But some people have really specific fetishes, and I live to please. Gotta lay everything out before we start."

Chan nods sincerely, like he knows exactly what you're saying, and Jisung follows suit. You're satisfied that you've covered your bases now. And besides, you really want to get started. You have three beautiful men here to play with.

So you say, "Okay. Who's first?"

You're still smiling, but you let some of your pent-up excitement leak into it, wondering if any of them will take the bait. You wonder if they're starting to think that you're some kind of super strict domme. Very serious, or very demanding, or something. You've had that problem before, with people crumbling before you even get started since you're so blunt about boundaries. Some people take that to mean that you like rigid roles and rules and set scenes.

But that's not really true. After the communication is solidified and you trust your partner, you like to just...let go.

Much to your amusement, the first one to crack is Jisung.

He practically bounces up to you, his face so perfectly cute that you wonder if he practices the look in the mirror. It's equal parts funny and ironic, since he's the youngest and also, from what you've seen at school, the one who wants to be taken most seriously.

"I'm first," he informs you.

You smile. You can't help it. His expression is so open and happy, even though his eyes are a little nervous. It's just so much. You gently nudge Chan away from the couch, and pat the back of it gently, invitingly. Jisung seems to understand you immediately and hops right up, balancing himself on the frame and the tops of the cushions, his legs dangling down the back of the couch. You settle yourself between his legs, standing purposefully, spreading your hands across his back to support him gently.

He leans back a little as if to test you, and you hold him up easily. It's not so much that you're strong, but that Jisung's so lean and slim. And even if he did fall, it would just be the short drop onto the seat of the couch. His eyes go wider as he realizes what kind of game you're playing with him. It's a signal, and you figured he'd be smart enough to pick up on it.

"I've got you," you say, very softly, into his ear.

Even if you look unassuming, even if they're taller and louder and bolder than you. Even if you're a gentle dom who puts up with some antics.

You're in control.

When you pull back and look at him, you swear you can see the little cartoon stars blooming in his eyes. He definitely got the message loud and clear.

He nods, almost imperceptibly, and says, "I know."

And you kiss him. He deserves it. A proper kiss, not like the teasing you'd done to him at the party. You let him lick into your mouth, scrape your teeth gently over his soft bottom lip. He's a good boy, you decide. Certified good boy.

Jisung leans back a bit more as he pulls away from you, and he lurches, loses his balance. He doesn’t go anywhere, since you're still holding him up securely, but he looks spooked. It fascinates you, how quickly he's fallen into the game of it. There's no risk if he falls, and yet...

"Can I-" he asks, " - can I touch-"

"Yeah," you say, cutting him off.

And then he's gently holding your face with one hand, the other arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with your hair. His body is much more relaxed as he kisses you, and you relish in it.

Oh, he's a sweetheart, you realize. Not a pushover or anything; he's still cupping your face and smiling into the kiss, confident and comfortable. But a good boy.

"You're so pretty," you say.

Jisung honest to God whines against your lips at the praise.

"It's true," you say, amused.

"He likes that a lot," comes Chan's voice.

You jump, having nearly forgotten your audience again. The other two are standing just beside you, watching intently as you work over their boyfriend.

"Being called pretty?" you ask him, as if Jisung isn't even there.

Chan nods.

"Well, he is," you affirm, leaning in to kiss Jisung's nose, trying to get your groove back.

Honestly, it’s a struggle to keep up with the fact that you’re trying to dom three people at once. You know you’ll do fine. It’s group sex, not a goddamn triathlon. But it’s useful here that you prefer domming psychologically, rather than with lots of physical force. You don’t know exactly what these three are used to, what they’re comfortable doing. A first-time with three people at once probably isn't the best time to fly in with a strap-on and demand people obey you.

So doing this the old-fashioned way, with simple baiting, praising, awarding, withholding…that’s gonna be the way forward.

“Who’s got the best bed for a foursome?” you ask, still holding up Jisung but looking expectantly back at Chan and Changbin.

Changbin nudges Chan with his elbow, "D'you think you could handle moving your pillow fort? For sexy purposes."

"Pillow fort?" you repeat.

"I have a lot of pillows, it's fine," Chan defends. "No big deal."

"He makes a nest with them," pipes up Jisung, "Like a crib."

Chan glares at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was Put Chan On Blast Night."

"Okay, whose bed is biggest?" you ask instead, deigning not to comment on the pillow thing any further.

"Changbin's," says Jisung.

"Then we can go there."

"Yes, ma'am," Changbin says easily, and he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom door on the right side of the house.

It's a small house, so he's quickly out of sight. Chan follows after him. You unwind your arms from around Jisung's little waist, and he lets himself drop dramatically backwards onto the couch cushions. You follow Chan, and Jisung chases after you.

Changbin's room is painted an off-white, the bedding rich dark blue against neutral wood furniture. It's extremely well-done for a college boy's room. You're impressed. It might even be more cohesive than your room. Now, at night, with just the soft light coming in from outside in the gap of his slightly-open blackout curtains, it looks impossibly atmospheric.

"Hold on," Changbin mutters, as you take in the space.

There's a soft click, and a set of fairy lights come on, strung around the perimeter of the room. They're an interesting color array, purple and blue and cool white. It's bright enough to see what you're doing, to see each other, but dark enough to set the tone. Yeah. They have a lot of sex in here. You're kind of excited to be part of it.

"Is there anyone-" you start, before your mind can filter the thought, and you stop.

But all three of them are just looking at you, standing there in a little line. You walk deeper into the room. You can do this. And so you swallow that last trace of lingering shame and ask them outright.

"Is there anyone who doesn't wanna fuck me?"

Jisung and Changbin break out in raucous laughter, and Chan just regards you.

"Why would we not want to?" Chan asks.

"I mean," you huff feeling petulant despite yourself, "Some people have no interest in the P in V stuff and would prefer something else, shut up!"

"You ask a lot of questions," Chan shoots back.

"I'm being considerate," you reply.

"No, I think we're all on board," interrupts Changbin, as if to head off a real argument.

You have no intention of fighting, though. You wonder what kind of people these three have hooked up with in the past. They obviously have no communication difficulties with each other, and yet they're (well...Chan is) being so difficult with you.

"Perfect," you say, "'Bin, c'mere."

Changbin shuffles nearer to you, leaving the others behind, and you look him over carefully. He's broad and strong, much bigger than Jisung. Your approach to him has to be a little different, you think. You make a quick decision: he's gonna be your ally tonight.

You lean into his ear and whisper the plan you've been making up on the fly. He listens. And when you've finished, Changbin grins conniving and bright.

"Does that sound good?" you ask him.

He nods. "I think they'll like it."

"Like what?" Jisung asks eagerly.

"Don't worry about it," you reply.

"I'm gonna worry about it," says Chan.

That dude. So neurotic. You really need to figure out what his buttons are, so you can know which ones to press and which to avoid. It's gonna take more than a little hair-pulling to figure out, you wager.

"'Bin, give me a hand?" you say, gesturing at your top.

Changbin gives you a winning smile and looks gloatingly back at Jisung, then at Chan, and then he reaches down to leisurely unbutton your shirt. You never wear button-downs, but you're glad you did tonight. They make undressing so much more...cinematic.

You shrug off the shirt when Changbin's done, the final button falling open, and you move next to strip off his t-shirt, too. He wears those things tight. He always has; you can't even count how many days in class you've spent staring at the muscular span of his shoulders. This one is the same, clinging to his form ridiculously, like he's trying out to be Captain America's body double.

When the t-shirt is gone, you're greeted with a thick, toned upper body that dips into solid, narrower hips. Not quite cut, no chocolate abs or anything, but he's got some impressive working muscle under his deep-toned skin. Beef. He's beefy.

"Wow," you say appreciatively, running your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his belt.

"What about us?" Jisung asks.

"Patience," you murmur, "Don't you want Changbinnie to feel good?"

Jisung pouts, but says, "Yes..."

"Then you can wait your turn," you say plaintively.

"Can I kiss you, noona?" Changbin asks.

You look at him, amused. "So you heard that conversation."

Changbin shakes his head. "I knew before. Chan-hyung always calls you-"

Chan squeaks, mortified, cutting him off, but you've heard plenty.

"Oh, he always calls me noona," you purr, "Before he knew how old I was?"

"Yes," Changbin says.

That's interesting, to say the least. It means that their approach to you from the start was to defer familiar respect and treat you like an elder, rather than a peer. Hm.

You get a little closer, bringing your face up to his. "Do you talk about me a lot?"

"No," Changbin breathes, "But when we do-"

"Dude!" Chan hisses.

"Don't listen to him," you soothe Changbin, giving Chan a little wink over your shoulder, "Thank you for telling me."

You kiss Changbin, since he did ask so nicely and gave you a wonderful tidbit about Chan. He's a good kisser. Needy; he's pressing you backwards with his enthusiasm. You reach to put your arms around his neck, but then you reconsider. Instead, you fold yourself against his chest, palms flat on his pecs. It gives the illusion that you're much smaller than him, even though admittedly he's not a very tall person.

The change in his body language is instantaneous. Your hunch was right - he likes feeling big. He did say not to make digs about his size. Well, you certainly won't about his height. But his size...

You move down and begin unbuckling his belt.

"How come only he gets to get naked?" Jisung complains.

You glance at him, hands busy unbuttoning and zipping down Changbin.

"I'm not stopping you," you reply, "You could undress without permission. But you'll miss out on all the fun if you just go off on your own."

Jisung blinks doe eyes at you, and Chan huffs out a laugh.

"Some dom you are, yeah?" Chan scoffs.

You shrug. "I can't make you do anything. I'm not gonna force you."

"No?" Chan says.

"That's the fun of this stuff, isn't it?" you say.

You ruffle Changbin's hair playfully, and motion for him to continue undressing himself. Willing all the grace you know you possess, you walk over to Chan, keeping your motions fluid and careless. You want him to see exactly what kind of dom you are.

"The fact that you don't have to listen to me. That's the fun," you say, "You don't have to. But you will. You wanna be good."

Chan swallows hard. "I..."

"I'm sure you like being good," you continue, cupping Chan's face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. "You're gonna be good for me, aren't you, peach?"

"Yeah," he says, so quietly that you think you've imagined it, his cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry," you hum, "I didn't hear that. Yes...?"

"Yes, noona," Chan says.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, noona, I'll be good for you."

"I thought you would be," you say, satisfied. "Go sit on the bed. Against the headboard."

He looks like he wants to complain about that, but you shrug again, punctuating that you're truly not here to force anyone. Domming is about control, not force. If Chan wants to turn over control to you, he will.

And he does.

He scrambles up the bed and sits with his back against the headboard. You can feel his eyes on you, and Jisung's wide, wide eyes, as you return to Changbin.

Changbin is down to his boxer-briefs, and God, he's good-looking. Solid and masculine. You kind of just want to have your way with him and be done with it. But that's not the plan.

“Jisung,” you say.

He jumps, not expecting to be addressed. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay bottoming tonight?”

“’Course,” he affirms, “Always. For who?”

You glance at Changbin, who nods, and Jisung smiles his biggest, most genuine smile, crooked front tooth and all.

“I like this plan,” he says.

That assent is all you need to hear.

“Is there lube?” you ask Changbin.

He turns away, presumably to grab it, and you snag Jisung by the wrist and tug him toward you. Jisung's wide smile is distracting, as you have him lie down on the bed. Changbin's bed is a king, you think, a really really big mattress with plenty of room to use. But when Jisung sprawls out easily, the top of his head is close to Chan.

"You have one rule, up there," you say to Chan, "No touching."

"No touching...him?" Chan asked, pointing at Jisung.

You smile. "No touching. Him, me, 'Bin, yourself. No touching."

Chan looks wide-eyed, almost hurt at your words. You can't tell exactly how he's feeling, so you move around the bed until you're right in front of him, and take one of his hands in yours.

"Is that okay?" you ask, "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay," he says.

You look at Changbin, waiting by Jisung's knees at the edge of the bed, and at Jisung himself, watching you upside-down.

"Can I implement the traffic light system?" you ask them, "It's the easiest safeword system for me, I think, with so many of you."

"You mean the color thing," Changbin clarifies.

"Yeah," you nod.

"We've used that one before," says Jisung agreeably, "We don't usually use any safewords but we can do that.

You turn back to Chan. "Does that work for you?"

He smiles, and it warms up his face all the way to his eyes, so you relax.

"Yeah, that works well," he says.

"Good," you say, "So. Color?"

"Green," says Chan.

"Great."

You lean in and kiss him for his trouble, realizing with a thrill that you've really only kissed him one other time. He's damn good at it, too, eager but gentle with just enough pressure. You pull back right as he starts to really melt against you, and drop his hand back onto his lap, in favor of returning to Jisung where you've left him.

Jisung, for his part, is lounging back on his elbows, just watching you, and you nudge his knees farther apart as you settle in between them. You can feel Changbin's warmth behind you again as he hovers, not quite touching you.

"Noona," he whines.

You glance back at him, his chin at your shoulder.

"I know," you tut, "You're already doing a good job for me, gorgeous."

He beams at the praise, and repeats, "Noonaaaa."

You smile to yourself at the lilt in his voice. "You can touch, baby."

There are suddenly lips against the side of your throat, Changbin trailing kisses across your skin, and hands on your waist pulling you back gingerly, as if he's afraid you'll tell him off for being too greedy (which is a good and valid worry). You lean away, down toward Jisung, and coax him upright to peel the baggy t-shirt off him. As you get the garment over his head, you're surprised to see firm abs and pecs. Jisung is small and thin, but apparently very, very muscular. Huh.

"You've been holding out on me," you chide him.

"Don't think about it that way, noona," Jisung says, "Think of it as a nice surprise."

You huff out a laugh. He's being kind of mouthy, but it's cute, so you're gonna let it slide. Mostly.

"Are you in any position to be telling me what to do?" you tease.

Jisung shrugs, lips pursed. You tickle your fingers down the hard line of his abs, grinning when he jumps and squeaks under your touch.

"'Bin?" you ask.

"Yes?"

"Who here is overdressed?"

Changbin hums against your skin, mouthing at the soft juncture of your neck and your shoulder, and says, "Jisungie, noona. And you."

"Not Chan?" you ask lightly.

Changbin grins. You can feel the flats of his teeth against your skin.

"Not unless you say so, noona," Changbin says.

"Good call, gorgeous," you say, leaning back into his touch.

He's hard against your ass, you note. Perfect. You go for Jisung's skintight jeans next, unbuttoning and peeling the black denim down his slim thighs. He's so dainty, all thin graceful limbs, his frame small but masculine and defined. You can see his cock twitch with interest as you get the jeans all the way off, his boxers beginning to tent.

"Excited?" you ask, letting your hand trail over him, gently feeling the outline of him through the thin fabric.

"Yeah," he says, shameless.

"Who should get undressed first?" you ask Jisung,

Jisung must register something in your tone, as his big eyes look from you, to Changbin, back to you.

And then he says, "Me, noona."

"Oh," you purr, "Good boy."

You free him from his boxers, and it's not a surprise when you're met with a pretty, proportional cock, flushed and lovely. You're hit with the urge to feel the weight of him in your mouth. And fuck, this is YOUR game, isn't it? So you lean down and do just that, taking his head between your lips.

Jisung gasps, high and pretty, and you can see Chan's face above you darken. He looks...jealous?

"Peach, you okay?" you say, coming off Jisung to speak.

Chan looks at you, puppy-eyed.

"I want..." he trails plaintively.

"I know you do," you agree. “Don’t be greedy.”

He's still sitting obediently, hands balled into fists atop his thighs and not touching anything. He's the only one fully dressed, and you can tell that it's driving him crazy. He can wait. You know he can.

So you nuzzle against Jisung's stomach indulgently and ask him, "Who next?"

Jisung pauses, comprehending what you've asked, and then he says, "Changbin-hyung."

You place your hand over Changbin's where it still rests in its spot on your waist.

"You heard him, Binnie," you say, "Go 'head."

His warmth vanishes from behind you for only a few seconds before he's back, his now unencumbered cock brushing against your shorts. You grip Jisung's length again, pumping him for a moment, looking down at him with a glint in your eye.

"Here's what's going to happen," you say, standing up properly, "I'm going to prep you for Changbin, baby. And Changbin is gonna have some fun of his own while I do it."

Jisung nods his understanding at your words, his expression delighted, and Chan is all but panting as he sits pretty for you. There's a lovely flush creeping from his ears toward the neckline of his button-down shirt.

You shuck off your own shorts, left now in just your bra and panties. As you look down at yourself, you realize that while they are not a matching set, your underwear ARE about the same color, which you count as a personal victory. It's the little things.

"Hand me a pillow, peach?" you ask Chan.

He nearly topples over in his eagerness to give you a pillow from the head of the bed. You have Jisung raise his hips, and settle the pillow under him, angling him up for better access. He doesn't seem the slightest bit self-conscious, on display to you like that. You almost hate how attractive that is.

"Everyone, color?" you ask.

"Green," chirps Jisung, almost before you're done speaking.

"Green," Chan agrees.

"So green," Changbin groans from behind you, where he's still grinding against your ass.

"Wonderful," you murmur.

You turn your attention fully to the boy beneath you. Jisung is impeccably groomed, maybe even better than you, you think. There's a neat thatch of hair around the base, and he's all but hairless everywhere else. It's impressive.

You trail your hand over his balls, his perineum, to his hole, and he chokes out a moan as you just graze the thin skin there.

"Are you sure you're ready to go, Jisungie?" you ask, and he nods eagerly.

"I wanted to bottom tonight anyway," he informs you cheekily.

Chan laughs, which melts any of your lingering worries that you've overwhelming or neglecting him.

"That's true," Chan says softly. "He told us before the party."

"You guys are so much fun," you say.

The lube is laying on the comforter next to you, so you pick it up, pop the top, and coat two of your fingers in the stuff. You lean down over Jisung again, knowing how obscene you must look together, him all spread out for you and you draped over his lithe little body. You're sure both Chan, in front, and Changbin, behind, are getting an eyeful of the two of you.

"I'm gonna start," you warn Jisung.

"Finally," Jisung teases, "I was beginning to think - shit-"

He's cut off as you ease your index finger past that ring of muscle. The slide is much easier than you expected, but he still whines out in a pitch higher than you would have thought.

"You do this a lot?" you ask him, only half-teasing, slowly pumping your finger and relishing in the easy way he takes you, "You're so open."

"I do, yeah," Jisung agrees, breathless.

"And here I thought you were the bottom of the group," you say to Chan, letting a little bit of bite into your voice, wondering if they're at all into that.

Chan's flush picks back up, and he stammers, "I - mean-"

"He can be a great little hole, too," Jisung says, casually, "I wrecked him a couple days ago, didn't I, hyung?"

Still blushing furiously, Chan nods.

"Interesting," you say simply, turning your attention back to Jisung, "Hey, what happened to those pretty sounds?"

You curl your finger slightly, and Jisung lets out another gasp.

"That's more like it," you praise.

You almost wish you had a strap here, so you could do the next part yourself, too. But your actual plan is gonna be just as much fun, so you can easily be content with this.

"Noona," comes Changbin's voice.

"Yes?" you answer.

"Can I...I mean..." Changbin trails off, seeming embarrassed.

"Can you?" you prompt, amused at his sudden shyness.

"Can I make you feel good, too?" he asks.

"Oh, baby," you simper, "Of course. So good, asking for permission."

Changbin laughs breathlessly, and so does Jisung.

"Isn't he good?" you ask Jisung.

"Good," Jisung agrees, though he nearly chokes on the word.

He seems to be ready for another finger, so you draw out and press back in with two, this time. At the same time, you lean down to take his length back into your mouth. Jisung whimpers again, starting to press his hips down against your hand.

As you're bent over at the waist, pleasuring Jisung, you feel tentative fingers pulling your panties to the side. You wonder if you're going to get the warm press of a cockhead, or-

"Oh," you breathe, pulling off Jisung's cock again to collect yourself as the unmistakable trace of a tongue wanders up your core.

Changbin pulls away just as quickly as he began, and you all but groan in frustration.

"Come on, gorgeous, don't be shy," you urge.

And the tongue returns, more eager this time, as Changbin settles himself fully between your legs. You steel yourself to enjoy while also focusing on the task at hand, prepping Jisung, and keeping your wits about you. Changbin definitely doesn't seem like he's only a sub, and neither do the other two, honestly. They seem like switches, if you had to hazard a guess. It would be in poor taste to let any of them turn the tables on you, now, wouldn't it?

Your mind wanders a little as you scissor and work your two fingers, Jisung trembling and whimpering praise under you, Changbin's plush lips against your clit. How the fuck did you get here?

You're kind of floored to think that maybe an hour ago, you were at that party, bored, barely buzzed, and anonymous, or so you thought. Plain old you. And now you're here, sandwiched between two of the hot, popular guys from Physics class with the third one watching you and white-knuckling the sheets.

A surge of power sweeps through you at the thought. You're here. You have this. You deserve this. And you're gonna have a good fucking time.

"I'm ready!" Jisung is sputtering, "I'm - I'm-"

"Ready," you finish for him, bringing your focus back to the moment.

There's arousal building low in your stomach. Changbin is good with his mouth. You kind of wish you could see him while he's doing this.

"Ready for what?" you ask Jisung.

"More!" he whines, “More, Jesus, two fingers is basic!”

You pull your fingers out, which just makes him whine louder, to reapply lube. This time, you push in with three, and Jisung keens long and low.

"You know, Changbinnie," you say, making sure to keep your voice measured and casual, "You're gonna need to get wet to fit inside Jisungie's pretty hole."

Changbin pulls himself up at your words, leaving your core wet and exposed and distinctly throbbing, and he leans forward to take the lube from you. You stop him before he can take the bottle.

"That's not what I meant," you say sweetly.

There's a fraction of a second while he catches up, and then Changbin groans openly against your shoulder blade, as you continue to work your fingers steadily in and out of Jisung.

"Noona, we have condoms in Chan-hyung's room," Changbin says, "I can go-"

"No," you say, "No need."

And that's all the permission Changbin seems to need, before he's lining himself up.

"Can I?" he asks.

You coo. He hasn't missed a single beat, sweet and obedient and so ready to be good for you.

"You're so good, gorgeous," you say, "Yes, please."

He sinks into you quickly, no preamble, and you can't blame him for being eager because you're secretly just as ready for it. He's thicker than you expected, but you should have expected it, considering the rest of his body. You find yourself panting against Jisung’s hipbone, your fingers pausing inside Jisung as you enjoy the delicious stretch.

“Can I move, noona?” Changbin asks, sounding punched-out already.

“Take it slow,” you instruct him, “This is just a warmup for you, you know.”

Changbin whines under his breath but obeys you, pulling out agonizingly slowly. As you try to keep your head clear, you notice Chan shifting on the bed ahead of you, and you have an idea.

“Okay, peach,” you say, keeping your voice level, “Why don’t you come over here and have a good look?”

“A look?” Chan repeats, “At…”

You smile to yourself. “At whatever you want. Jisung is a pretty picture, I’m sure you know that.”

“And you, noona,” Changbin cuts in.

“And me?” you say, amused.

“Pretty,” says Changbin, by way of explanation, as he keeps up his slow, slow pace.

“Thanks,” you say, arching back against him, figuring he deserves a little reward.

You nod at Chan, encouraging, and he crawls off the bed and comes around behind you. You’re sure he can see everything from where he is - your fingers disappearing into Jisung’s heat, Changbin’s cock disappearing into you. The combined power of Changbin’s steady pace and Chan watching it all is a little overwhelming. You need to narrow your focus or else someone is gonna come before you intend it to happen, and that someone might just be you.

You gently pull your fingers out of Jisung’s hole, leaving him complaining behind you.

“It was just starting to get good, come on!” Jisung whines

“Patience, baby,” you say, giving Jisung a playing smack on the meat of his thigh.

You turn your head fully to look at Chan. He’s staring, transfixed, down on the place where Changbin’s cock is slowly working in and out of you. And now that your brain isn’t focusing on being careful with Jisung, the arousal is really catching up with you. You’re getting close.

Really, you reason, what’s the harm in having a little more fun for yourself?

“Jisungie,” you say, “You wanna give me a hand here?”

He looks rightfully confused, until you reach up and snap your own bra strap against your skin. Then Jisung winks at you, and reaches around to push-pull-snap open the hooks in the back in one fluid movement.

“How’d you get so good at that?” you ask him, amused. “None of your partners wear bras.”

Jisung looks offended. “Who says I don’t wear ‘em?”

“Good point.”

You shrug off the garment, now only in your panties, which aren’t doing much of anything anymore since Changbin’s fucking you around them. Jisung’s eyes are following your breasts as you readjust yourself, sitting up more and shifting your weight onto your knees. Man, your core is gonna be killing you tomorrow…

“Lock it up, baby, shit,” you tease Jisung, “How long has it been since you’ve seen tiddies?”

“That weren’t on a man? I don’t even know.”

“Hm.”

You reach down and start drawing lazy circles on your clit, and you can feel yourself clench down on Changbin at the stimulation. He gasps, and you tut at him.

“I know you can wait for me, gorgeous,” you say.

He whines, “But-”

“Changbinnie. You’re gonna let me feel good, aren’t you?” you ask him. “Don’t I deserve to cum first?”

“Yes,” he grinds out.

“Noona, can I do it?” Jisung asks suddenly.

You’re still hovering over him, all but laying on top of him, and you look down at his face. His eyes are fixed on your fingers, rubbing yourself through your underwear.

“Do what?” you ask, just to be difficult.

“Make you cum,” Jisung answers.

You take your hand off your clit and reach out to thread your fingers through Jisung’s, leading him back to the front of your panties.

“You and Binnie need to work together for this, huh?” you say, “One of you isn’t good enough? It has to be two?”

“I’m good enough,” Changbin argues.

“Shush,” you admonish, “Then prove it.”

You let your hand fall away again, as Jisung takes up the task. He slips his fingers down your waistband, circling hard and tight over your clit. Changbin, obedient to the end, is still somehow keeping up those slow, deep strokes that you demanded. And you have to admit: they’re determined to prove it.

“Jesus, noona,” Changbin whines.

“You’re not gonna cum yet,” you instruct.

“I know.”

Jisung meets Changbin’s eye over your shoulder; you can tell that’s what he’s doing from the smirk on Jisung’s face and the muttered shut up that Changbin stifles into your neck. He gets up on his knees, and you find yourself pressed between them, your forehead against Jisung’s breastbone as his fingers work under you. You glance up, intending to tell Jisung off for making his next move on his own, but the vision you see knocks that idea right out of your head.

They’re making out over you.

It’s so beautifully desperate, Changbin biting and panting into Jisung’s mouth and whining under it all as he fucks into you, Jisung with one hand fisted in Changbin’s hair and the other still dutifully circling your clit, wet and dirty. As you feel your peak coming on, you remember the last member of your party, poor Chan, still relegated to his spectator’s spot behind you all, still under orders not to touch. You look up at him, and God, you wish you had looked sooner.

Chan is standing there, hands cemented at his sides. He’s flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck, to his chest, creeping under his shirt, and his eyes are hungry. But he’s being good, no matter how much he wants to move.

He’s still being good, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You drop your head back down against Jisung’s chest, and gasp and shake your way through your own orgasm. Changbin lets out a moan that borders on a shout, as you surprise him with your clenching walls, and he slows down even more, just grinding into you. There’s something so bone-deep satisfying about it, all three of the boys with their eyes on you and unable to do anything without your permission. They just have to watch and hold back.

You wait until you can speak properly before you say anything to them.

“You didn’t cum, did you, gorgeous?” you ask, swiveling your oversensitive pussy back on Changbin, spots swimming in your vision from how hard you came.

“No, noona,” Changbin says, and his voice is thin with strain but confident.

You know he didn’t, but it’s satisfying to make him say it. He’s holding still now, just standing there stuffing you full. That orgasm cleared your head a bit; you feel more centered than ever. And you feel a little bit bad for Chan, honestly. He’s gotten the least attention from you so far.

“I think Channie really wishes he was you two right now. What d’you think, peach?” you ask, directing the last part at Chan.

Chan doesn’t answer right away, which is just as well, because you can see his erection straining against his dark jeans. His eyes are fixed between your legs, where you can feel your own wetness inching obscenely out around Changbin’s cock.

“I asked you a question,” you say, louder, and Chan looks at your face instead of your pussy.

“I think I’ve been good, noona,” Chan says quietly.

“Let’s get a second opinion, hm?” you say.

You peel Changbin’s hands off your waist and scoot away from him, pulling yourself off his dick, and push Jisung away to give yourself some room. You settle beside Jisung, who sits back down against the mattress and leans on his elbows to look at the rest of you.

“But noonaaaa,” Changbin whines.

“You got some already,” you admonish. “Don’t be greedy.”

Changbin pouts at you, and you reach out and squish his cheeks in your hand. He just lets you do it, and you lean in and kiss his lips. He deserves it, and more.

“So. Consensus,” you say, “Has Channie been good?”

“Not as good as me,” Changbin mutters.

You laugh, and turn to Jisung expectantly for his answer.

“I think so,” Jisung says, “He listens to you much better than he listens to me.”

“How honest,” you say.

You turn and swing one leg over Jisung’s torso, only hesitating for a second as you factor in your body weight on top of his dainty little body and then deciding it doesn’t matter. You sit up straight, facing Jisung so that you can see his expression, trapping his bare cock between your folds, still kind of covered in your stretched and soaked panties, and his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jisung wheezes, throwing his head back.

“They’re really roasting you,” you say to Chan conversationally, as if you’re not torturing Jisung in the same moment.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, giving you a sheepish smile that shows his deep dimples.

His casual admission is strangely charming, and it makes you smile back. You grind down on Jisung just for a second, just to hear the noise that he makes. He doesn't disappoint, a whine coming up from his chest as his hands scrabble at the sheets. He doesn't touch you, even though you haven't said that he can't. The faultless obedience is thrilling.

"Are you ready for a little more?" you ask Jisung, nodding toward Changbin.

"A little?" Changbin protests.

You send him a wink, realizing the stupid joke. "Oh, come on, that wasn't a dig."

"Thin ice, noona," he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Excuse me?"

"Biting the hand that feeds you, hyung," Jisung sing-songs, tilting his head up.

"Jisungie, you talk too much," you tease.

You shift over Jisung so that the head of his cock prods at your entrance. You're still wet and messy from all of their handiwork, and Jisung keens.

"We don't need him, do we?" you nod over your shoulder at Changbin.

"I mean, I was looking forward to the dicking, but - oh shit" Jisung moans, as you reach down and pull your panties aside properly, and let the very tip of him slip inside you.

"This isn't the plan," Changbin complains.

You smile at him sweetly. "I just don't want anyone to forget who's in charge here."

You climb off Jisung, leaving him whining in your wake, and move up to the spot at the head of the bed where you'd sat Chan earlier. The three boys watch as you settle cross-legged, casual as anything.

"I think," you say, resting your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee, "I think that I just want to watch for a while."

All three of them, Changbin and Chan standing side by side and Jisung sitting half-upright, look at you with matching wide eyes. You tut, looking right back at them and silently making up your mind.

"Come here, peach," you say, making grabby hands at Chan.

He complies easily, coming back up the bed toward you, and you uncross your legs to make some room, patting the mattress in front of you. Chan pauses, kneeling between your open legs, and you turn him around gently by the shoulders. You sit him down with his back pressed to your chest. He's still fully dressed, even after everything that’s gone on, and his silky black shirt is cool and soft against your bare skin. His broad shoulders cover you entirely, but he melts against you, sliding down a little so that his head rests at the crook of your neck, curly black hair against your cheek.

"Jisungie, Binnie?" you say, "I want you to put on a good show for me while I give this poor baby boy some attention."

You let your hands wander to the top button on Chan's shirt. It's not the top button, really, because he's got the first three undone already to show a span of pale toned chest. So you unbutton the next one, and crawl your fingers down to the next, too.

"So I can," Changbin starts, "I can-"

"Yes," you nod, "But neither of you can cum until I say so. Okay?"

"Okay," says Jisung eagerly.

"You have to earn it," you warn, "A good show."

Jisung and Changbin look at each other, significantly, like they're silently concocting their own plan. You decide you can get a hand on that ball, too.

"Channie, wouldn't they be pretty if they kissed for us?" you ask, murmuring right into Chan's ear.

He nods eagerly, and you pop another shirt button. You glance down at Chan's torso, completely bare to you now, all pale smooth skin and chiseled abs. So you ease the silky shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and discard it off the side of the bed.

By the time you look back up, Jisung has Changbin pinned to the bed, straddling his waist and kissing him right into the mattress.

"Oh," you say mildly, "Promising start, hm?"

You stroke up and down Chan's abs with your fingertips, and he laughs gently.

"They're always like this," he says.

"Thirsty?"

"Out of control," he corrects.

Jisung breaks away from Changbin's mouth, frowning at Chan. "You love it, you asshole. You're just as bad."

Chan nestles back into you more and doesn't say anything, but you can see an answering half-smile creeping over his face. Changbin takes advantage of the distraction to flip Jisung over onto his back, finally flexing the strength you know he has, and bends Jisung nearly in half. His knees are up by his shoulders, and his face is more than a little alarmed.

"Hey, I'm not that bendy!" Jisung protests.

"Yeah, you are," Changbin shushes, "Do you wanna cum or not?"

You grin. "Come on, then."

With a big upside-down sigh, Jisung looks at you, while Changbin digs around in the sheets for the lube.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Jisung asks you, "They're so good and nice for you, and for me? This disrespect. I don't even know - OH-"

Jisung cuts off, and it's obvious what's happening from the way Changbin's hands fly down to Jisung's hips and Jisung's back arches up to meet him. You hum your satisfaction, taking in the blissful expression on Changbin's face, and the sweat already beading at Jisung's hairline.

But you quickly realize that you can't see nearly well enough. They're laying up the bed properly, feet at the foot and Jisung's head against the mattress near yours and Chan's intertwined legs. But if they were perpendicular to you...

"Okay, gorgeous," you coo, and Changbin's head snaps up at the sound of the pet name, "Turn around on the bed so that I can see exactly how nice Jisungie fits around you."

It takes a second, but Changbin processes your words with a slow blink, and grabs Jisung's hips to unceremoniously turn them ninety degrees. Now they're laying across the bed widthwise, and you have a delightful view of Changbin's thick cock sinking into Jisung smoothly. He's set a brutal pace, snapping against Jisung's narrow hips with a force that makes you clench around nothing. He’s obviously making up for the painfully slow pace you made him take on you. It's quiet enough that all you can hear is the perverse squelch of lube and the tiny breathy sighs Jisung makes every time Changbin bottoms out.

"Jesus," Chan breathes, and you nearly jump out of your skin; despite the weight of him on you, you've all but forgotten about him while you're taking in the view in front of you.

"How do they look?" you ask him, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

"So good," Chan answers, "So - ah-"

You tug his curls gently, and Chan arches his neck back so that his head rests fully on your shoulder.

"Noona," Changbin says with an edge of desperation in his voice, pulling your attention back to him, "Noona, I'm not, I can't-"

"You gotta hold on for me, gorgeous," you coax.

Changbin nods, digging his fingers into Jisung's hips and making his poor boyfriend squeak at the added pressure. He sits back on his heels, pulling Jisung with him, so that he’s almost upright, giving you a delightful view of their bodies meeting. It makes you groan to yourself, waves of arousal peeling through your gut.

You reach down to undo Chan’s belt and jeans, and it only takes a moment to rid him of those, too. He’s ridiculously hard in his black boxers, and as you palm him through the fabric, you have to admit that he’s the biggest of the three of them.

“Who’s gonna cum first?” you ask Chan.

He drags his eyes away from the sight of Jisung’s arched back, the faint bruises forming under Changbin’s hands, and looks up at you.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs.

“I think Jisung’s earned it,” you decide, “Peach, you wanna give him a hand?”

“Not him,” Jisung gasps.

Chan looks affronted. “Hey!”

“Noona please,” Jisung begs. “Please!”

“Oh, you want me?” you ask, smirking.

Jisung nods, gasping and screwing his eyes shut as Changbin keeps up that punishing pace. You can have mercy on him, can’t you?

Chan leans forward so you can wiggle out from behind him, and you sit back on your heels beside Changbin and Jisung. The view is even better up close: Changbin’s muscles bunching and expanding, Jisung rocking up the bed with every thrust. Changbin’s gorgeous face furrowed in concentration. Jisung’s rim contracting obscenely around the cock still working in and out of him.

You feel delightfully gross, wonderfully perverse and voyeuristic, and you lean down to kiss Jisung. He kisses back like he’s starving, panting into your mouth.

“Pretty boy,” you say, right against his lips, “Do you want to cum?”

Jisung nods, his eyes barely focusing on you, the attention going right to his head. “Yes, noona!”

“What do you need to cum?” you ask him.

“Your…hand, noona, or your mouth, please,” Jisung whines.

You smile at him, leaning in for one more kiss. “You can cum when you’re ready, baby.”

“Yes, noona.”

One down, one to go. You shuffle so that you’re sitting face to face with Changbin and he all but falls forward to kiss you, his hips not even stuttering as they drive forward. His singular focus is impressive. You let Changbin press messy open-mouth kisses against your lips, your cheeks, as you finally wrap a hand around Jisung’s cock.

His whole body jumps when you start jerking him quickly. It only takes two, three, four pumps before Jisung is babbling, begging for your permission even though you’ve already given it.

“Noona, I’m going to – please let me cum, I need it, I need-”

“Go ahead, pretty baby, cum for me,” you say.

That’s all it takes for Jisung to come into your hand with a shout, loud and high-pitched and cracking in the middle. His voice is a rush of power, like adrenaline in your veins, and you keep up your pace, stroking him through his orgasm. You look to Changbin next, watching him as he throws his head back and moans openly at the feeling of Jisung coming around him. His eyes are wide open, still, and he finds your gaze as he finally begins to lose his pace. This is the second person’s orgasm he’s had to ride out, poor thing. It almost makes you want to keep going, see how long he can last…

“I-” he stutters, “I want…”

“Ask nicely,” you instruct.

“I want to cum, noona,” Changbin pleads.

“That doesn’t sound like asking nicely.”

Changbin makes a tiny sound of despair, and tries again, “Please, may I cum, noona? I’ve – God – I’ve been good, haven’t I? Please?”

He’s beautiful, begging so nicely for you. You bring up your hand that’s covered in Jisung’s cum and nudge the dirty fingers against his lips. Without hesitating, Changbin sucks two fingers into his mouth, his tongue working between the digits.

“Filthy,” you coo.

Changbin just whines around your fingers.

“Who are you cumming for, Binnie?” you ask, taking your hand back.

“You.”

“Hm?” you feign ignorance.

“You!”

“Who?”

“You, noona,” he moans.

“Okay, gorgeous, you can cum.”

“Thank you.”

With a final moan that sounds an awful lot like your name, Changbin cums, making Jisung whine out in his high, cracked little voice at the feeling of it. You lean back, just watching and enjoying, as they both come down.

Two down, one to go.

Chan is still waiting for you, though you wouldn’t doubt that he’s a little less patient than he was at the beginning of the session. He’s sitting back against the headboard again when you turn around, just watching you. You notice that he’s actually sitting on top of his hands, and you smile disdainfully at him.

“Oh, peach,” you say, “Are you so fucking desperate that you have to sit on your pretty little hands, to keep from disobeying me?”

“I’ve listened to you, noona,” Chan says.

“Is it so hard for you to be good?” you chide.

“It’s not!” he insists weakly.

“Shit, I think we could go again,” Jisung comments offhandedly, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him, suppressing your smile in favor of a cool stare. “Can you not let me deal with our sweet peach for two fucking minutes?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jisung defends, holding up his hands in surrender. “Refractory period? Great.”

You decide to ignore Jisung and his big mouth. Chan deserves some undivided attention, and you planned right from the start that you’d have him like this.

Rolling your eyes in Jisung’s direction, you crawl over and take hold of Chan’s boxers, and pull them down his pale pretty legs and off. He looks distinctly shy when he’s finally fully naked for you, so you return the favor by slipping off your ruined panties. You can feel two sets of eyes on your ass as you maneuver yourself onto Chan’s lap.

You’re delighted to find that if you sit up perfectly straight, you’re taller than him. Tall enough that he has to tilt his head back to look at you. He’s all wide brown eyes and handsome flushed skin, and you stare down at him fondly.

“What do you want, peach?” you ask.

“You…” Chan trails.

You walk your hand up his shoulder, up into his hair, and tug at the back of his head. He tilts his chin up, leaning into the action, exposing his long beautiful neck to you. You can’t help it – you lean in and indulgently bite into the skin on the side of his throat.

“What about me?” you ask against his flesh.

You can feel Chan swallow. “I want…to fuck you, noona.”

“I know you can ask nicely.”

As you trail down and add another bite under the first, leaving your mark behind on his porcelain skin, Chan shows you just how well he can ask.

“Please, noona,” he breathes, “I can make you feel good, like Changbinnie, better than Changbinnie, wanna fuck you so good and fill-”

He cuts off with an embarrassed whimper, as if he’d almost let something slip. Unluckily for him, you have a pretty good idea what he was about to say.

“Oh, peach, you’re dirty,” you purr.

“I’m sorry, I-” Chan sputters, but you cut him off.

“No, no, no, no,” you shush him, “I like it.”

You lift yourself up slightly so that you can reach down and line him up with your pussy, and without preamble, you sink down on him. You know you’re still wet and sloppy from before, and Chan groans shamelessly as you settle your hips firmly against his.

“You can have me, but you’re doing all the work,” you inform him.

Apparently, that’s no problem for Chan, because he plants his feet on the mattress for leverage and begins pistoning upwards into you. You rise onto your knees slightly to meet him, making him work harder, rise higher to chase what he wants.

His pace is brutal, his hips moving precise and intense against yours, and you’re shocked to feel a second, penetrative orgasm rising on its own. You’re still so sensitive from cumming the first time, you know you’re not going to last very long. But Chan is having a similar problem.

“I’m not…I’m not going to last, noona, I’m-” Chan moans, sounding embarrassed by it.

You coo at him. His self-consciousness, even this far into a scene, is so endearing.

“Did you get all worked up watching Jisung and Changbin have their fun?” you ask, patronizing.

Chan nods, throwing his head all the way back as he chases his high, driving into you hard. “So good, noona, it was so good…”

You glance over your shoulder at the other two, the mention of them making you wonder what they’re up to, unattended over there, and you’re met with quite the scene.

“It seems like they’re enjoying us, too,” you say.

Chan brings his head forward again with what seems like a tremendous amount of effort, and peels his eyes open. When he sees his boyfriends behind you, his breakneck pace finally stutters.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Oh, Jesus Christ-”

Jisung is standing beside the bed, bracing himself against the wall like he’ll collapse if left only to his own strength. Which is valid, because Changbin is knelt between his legs, Jisung’s cock down his throat and Jisung’s hand on the back of his head, guiding him.

“They weren’t kidding about being ready another round,” you joke, and to your utter delight, Chan laughs.

“And I wasn’t kidding about – noona, fuck,” Chan whimpers, “I’m not – can I cum, noona?”

You hum. “You wanna fill me up, peach?”

Chan’s breath hitches at your words, and if it’s even possible, he begins fucking into you harder. He’s hitting you just right inside, cockhead brushing against that delicious spot and making stars dance in your vision. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve cum just from a partner like this, and you’re salivating at the idea of it. You’re so damn close.

“Yes,” he whines, “Noona please let me, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, fill you up with my cum and – and-”

“You’ve waited long enough for me, peach,” you say, reaching up to cup his face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Cum.”

On command, like the good boy he is, Chan cries out, high pitched and absolutely beautiful, and cums. And then, surprise of surprises, he snakes one hand down between the two of you and finds your clit, rubbing into the poor sore nerves like he might die if he doesn’t make you cum.

And you do. You can’t even choke down the squeak of “Chan, oh, fuck!” as you clamp down on him, pleasure bursting behind your eyelids like fireworks and warming you all the way down to your toes.

As your orgasm fades and the world comes back into focus around you, the first thing you see is Chan’s self-satisfied little smile. That smug bastard…

You grin back at him, pushing him away by the chest, “Shut up.”

Gingerly, you climb off his softening cock and off his lap entirely, to throw yourself down haphazardly on the bed. Chan collapses across you, landing heavy over your legs and making you protest for your poor ankles.

“I can confidently say, that was fantastic,” comes Chan’s muffled voice, facedown in the mattress as he is.

“Seconded,” says Jisung.

You tilt your head back to see Jisung and Changbin peering down at you, both looking heavy-eyed and swollen-lipped. They look as drained as you feel, and just as satisfied.

“That was a hell of a show, (Y/N)-noona,” Changbin says.

“Glad you liked it, I worked really hard,” you tease. “Does anyone need water? Food?”

“Cuddles,” mumbles Chan.

“Yeah, you have to stay the night, noona, aftercare and cuddling is non-negotiable,” Jisung agrees.

Changbin nods. “We’re even better at that than the sex.”

It shouldn’t be as touching as it is that they want you to stay. But fondness wells up in your chest, soft delight that they seem to enjoy your platonic company just as much as your sexual company. But this bed is disgusting. Changbin needs to wash his sheets, there’s no way you can sleep here in the miasma of lube and bodily fluids.

And besides, the four of you need to talk about all of this at some point. You’re still their classmate, after all, at least until the end of the semester, and an impromptu hookup like this can lead to some real awkward class meetings. Some pillow talk, some cuddles, and some Gatorade are all in order here.

So you smile, wide and honest and mischievous, and stand up on shaky legs to head for the bedroom door. The boys look confused at your seemingly sudden departure, and you cock a thumb at the other bedroom, across the hall.

“Now, Channie, where’s that pillow fort I heard so much about?”

[gukyi]

good luck charm | kth

summary: kim taehyung has nearly everything he’s ever dreamed of: an apartment in new york city, a lead role in an off-broadway play, and a best friend to share it with. but even still, there’s one thing missing—love. and when he goes on the hunt for it, he dots every i and crosses every t, leaves no stone unturned, but forgets to look at the person who could ever love him the most: you.

{friends to lovers!au, roommates!au, actor!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love word count: 11k a/n: a huge thank you to MK for commissioning me for this piece–i hope it’s everything you dreamed of!!!! these are tough times, but i hope this can serve as a distraction to everyone!! please stay safe and wash your hands! if you’re interested in commissioning me, check out this post! also, if the pictures are unclear, click on them for higher resolution!

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You see a tuft of purple hair sticking out behind a basket of orange pansies, two nimble hands with long fingers fiddling with the stems. 

“I bet you say that to everyone,” you tease, as Namjoon peers out from where he’s hiding behind a shelf of flowers, greeting you with the same warm grin he always wears. 

Namjoon pauses, gaze tilting upwards as he corrects himself, “my favorite customer who’s about to confess to her best friend of four years with a bouquet arranged by yours truly?”

You roll your eyes, thankful that there’s nobody else inside this little flower shop. Not that you seem to have an issue exposing your entire life story to certain strangers, especially if they’ve got dimples and colored hair to match. Namjoon has always been something of an exception—perhaps he is one of the closest friends you have here in the city, where everything moves so quickly you barely have time to say hello to a new acquaintance. Namjoon and his flower shop are a respite, a safe haven in a bustling world, where time always seems to move slower than it does outside. 

“Don’t remind me, I’m sweating just thinking about it,” you tell him, trying to cover your nervousness with a laugh. 

“Ah, well how could I forget, when you came to me to arrange the perfect bouquet for tonight?” Namjoon says. He chops a wilting flower from its stem and places it behind his ear. Even though it’s a little sadder, a little less lively than its comrades, the bright yellow of the primrose complements his hair nicely, making him look even more ethereal, magical, than he already does. 

“Who else would I ask besides the best bouquet-maker in town?” You ask as Namjoon leads you to the counter, where various bouquets have been laid out in vases, ready for pick-up. It’s a secret garden here, all green and fresh and calm, a sharp contrast to the industrial machine outside. 

Namjoon heads to the back, a room behind a little wooden door that’s the slightest bit too short for him, so he has to bend down to avoid hitting his head (he still hits his head rather frequently, though), as you breathe in the scents of the flowers surrounding you, the roses and the daisies and everything in between. It’s not much, but it does calm the thick beating of your heart ever so slightly, and that’s enough. 

He emerges a minute or so later, banging his head on the way out. In his hands is one of the biggest bouquets you’ve ever laid eyes on, thick with some flowers you recognize but more you don’t. It’s breathtaking and gorgeous and impressive, all at once. 

“Namjoon, you know that I didn’t ask for this many flowers,” you chide as he plops the bouquet down onto the counter, clicking away at the ancient cash register to his left. 

“Consider it a good luck gift,” Namjoon tells you with a wink. 

You sigh, pulling out your card to pay him. “I could use all of the luck I could get.” The likelihood of tonight going more right than wrong is miniscule. But what else can you do, besides try? “What do they all mean?”

“Well, the daffodils represent honesty and truth. The red carnations mean love, obviously. So do the chrysanthemums. The baby’s breath is just for decoration, but it also means everlasting love. The gardenias are for secret love. And the freesia is just because I thought it went well with the bouquet,” Namjoon says expertly, pointing to each one as he tells you what it means. “I don’t know if Taehyung’s super up with his flower meanings, but I think that even the gesture will say more than enough. But if he is, this is just a bonus.”

“I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?” You say, the nerves overtaking you. You were hoping to just act calm and collected, thank Namjoon for the bouquet and be on with your lives, but even you can’t help but seek advice from him. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “If you think it’s going to go so badly, why have you planned so much?” He poses. “It’s normal to be nervous about this sort of thing—what if I mess up, what if he doesn’t feel the same way, what if he rejects me—but I think that, deep down inside of you, there’s a part that thinks that it will all be worth it. And I don’t know, maybe I’m just a sucker for happy endings, but I think that that’s the most important. The part of you that doesn’t want to spend the rest of its life thinking about what might have been.” Namjoon’s phone lights up next to him, his lockscreen a picture of him and another boy, shorter, but with the same dyed hair. The two look so happy together. He gazes down at it, exhales, and shuts his phone off. “Just my two cents.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him with a smile. Maybe you are nervous about the what ifs, nervous that this whole thing could blow up in your face, but is it so naive of you to listen to that whisper in your heart? The one that says, maybe he feels the same? “I wish you’d take your own advice, sometimes.”

“It’s different,” Namjoon murmurs to himself. “He and I… this is all we’ll ever be.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” you tell him. You know the feeling. Perhaps, if tonight goes well, it will encourage him to give it a shot himself. “You never know.” Namjoon looks up at you, smile wide but eyes sad. There’s clearly something more that he isn’t mentioning, but you won’t push it. You get it. How could you not? “What if he does feel the same?”

The bell above the door rings on your way out, fingers clenching onto a bouquet, praying and wishing and dreaming that maybe this will all be worth it, in the end.

Something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

When you return to your apartment, Kim Taehyung is slouched on your dinky loveseat, arm deep inside a six-month-old box of Frosted Flakes, as an episode of Jeopardy! plays on his laptop, his eyes empty and glazed over as he stares at Alex Trebek, wordless.

You nearly jump in shock, terrified that he’ll spot you and the enormous bouquet in your hands, terrified that he’ll ask you about it, terrified that your entire plan for tonight will get flushed down the toilet the moment you and him lock eyes. But it doesn’t, because Kim Taehyung doesn’t even acknowledge you when you walk in, for better or for worse, and you manage to stash the bouquet into a vase in your bedroom before rounding on your roommate, because something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

Kim Taehyung hates Frosted Flakes. The only reason they’re in your apartment to begin with is because Jungkook had brought them over one time when he was visiting, and even then they were stale. Now they’re extra stale. So stale that they make a hollow sound on your countertop when you tap them against the laminate. 

Kim Taehyung normally shuffles through Jeopardy! like it’s nobody’s business. He gets at least a quarter, if not half of the questions correct, and always earns more points than you. But he doesn’t even open his mouth when Alex Trebek says, “This Renaissance artist left Florence to serve as principal engineer for the Duke of Milan’s army” and you know that he knows it’s Leonardo Da Vinci. 

Kim Taehyung normally has plenty to say, especially to Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip, who currently resides in your living room. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has been your honorary second roommate ever since the two of you moved into this apartment four months ago. Taehyung made him a little museum placard that is framed and hanging on the wall above him, and he has an account on every social media website under the sun. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has more followers on Instagram than you do. But today, both he and Sawyer are silent and unmoving. 

“Tae?” You ask, treading over to the couch as he empties the box of Frosted Flakes into his stomach, finishing up the episode. “Is everything alright?”

“Mmrph,” he mumbles in response. You suppose that means he said fine, which means that no, everything is not alright. 

“What’s going on? You’re normally really excited the day of your shows,” you ask. At least he hasn’t entirely turned into a soulless hermit, and he moves his legs off of the couch so you can sit beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Taehyung says, louder. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?”

You smile softly, shaking your head as you reach a hand out, letting it rest in his lap before he takes your hand in his. “No, it’s not. Tonight’s a big deal, isn’t it? You must be under a lot of pressure to do well.”

“I’m just so worried that I’ll fuck it up and everyone will hate me forever,” Taehyung says, exasperated. It’s almost as if he’s tired with himself for being so negative. 

“You’re not gonna fuck it up and nobody is going to hate you. I’ll always love you, you know that,” you assure him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Taehyung says, but the worst part is that you’re not sure if he really does. 

“It’s okay to be nervous, and to worry. Tonight is really important. But you’re an incredible actor, and you’ve always been so good at what you do,” you tell him, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand softly. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.”

Taehyung lets his head rest on your own and the two of you sit together on the couch in silence, watching as the minutes on his laptop clock tick by. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and soft, firm underneath his chest. You wonder if he can hear yours. Hear how it’s picking up speed, hear how it beats only for him. 

“You always know what to say,” Taehyung tells you. “I wish I knew how to do that.”

You grin sadly to yourself, happy that the two of you are side by side so he doesn’t have to see your face. How could Taehyung tell you something like that? How could he, when every time you’re near him, you’re speechless?

You never really considered yourself to be a theater person when you were younger. You would fall asleep when you went to see plays with your parents or on a school field trip. You never made an effort to go see the performances that your school put on. You were one-hundred percent confident that you would go through all four years of university without seeing one of the fifteen different theater groups’ shows, not because you hated them, but because they never crossed your mind in the first place. 

And then, you met Kim Taehyung. 

You met Kim Taehyung halfway through your freshman year because the two of you were in the same Cinematography in the 1900’s class. And then, suddenly, you were eating the same shitty food in the dining hall after class ended at seven in the evening. And then, suddenly, you were studying together, spending nights watching Jeopardy! on his laptop when you didn’t feel like doing any work. And then, suddenly, Kim Taehyung mentioned in passing one day that he had a show that Friday, and would you like to come, it would really mean a lot to him, he thinks you’ll really like it. 

And then, suddenly, you were a theater person. 

That night was the first night Kim Taehyung had ever taken your breath away. And every performance, every night, every fucking moment after that, he never stopped.

Tonight is no exception. You can’t say that you’re super well-versed in theater fame and its technicalities, but you think that this may just be Taehyung’s best performance yet. Here, in this theater off of Sixth Avenue, to a crowd of two, perhaps three hundred people, Taehyung is nothing short of amazing. He never is. From the moment he steps on stage in a raggedy old flannel and jeans, eyes wide with dreams, he reels you in and makes sure that you won’t leave this theater, won’t leave here unscathed. But the fatal blow is halfway through, when he finally spots you in the third row, sees you staring up at him in wonder, and he smiles. 

There is so much that you wish you could tell him. 

After the show, you race back to your apartment, desperate to finish up the last of the preparations before he arrives, after taking off all of his makeup and his costumes, saying goodbye to all of his co-stars. Normally, you’d hang around, let him introduce you, but tonight is different. Special. 

[September 8th, 9:35PM]

You: Had to go home bc I’m planning a special something for the star of the night! Sorry I missed all of the fun afterwards You: Something very important to tell you

Taehyung: ohoho Taehyung: I wonder who that could be Taehyung: Coming soon. I have something to tell you too! ^^

You stare at the text as you grab the vase of flowers from your room, setting it up at your very unimpressive kitchen table. What could Taehyung possibly have to tell you? Other than perhaps a thanks for showing up (as if you weren’t going to). 

What if, that voice whispers. The part deep in your heart, the one that you wish would shut up sometimes. 

“No,” you say aloud, perhaps more for yourself than anyone else. “No. I have something to tell him. I have to tell him this.”

You never know, she says. He might. What are you waiting for?

You pull out all of the scented candles in the apartment, setting them up on the coffee table and on the windowsills. There’s a plate of macarons that you had purchased from the fancy bakery in Midtown sitting by the vase, a little treat for the two of you since your diets usually consist of premade Costco pasta and takeout. 

There is so much you want to tell him. So much to say, and no way to do it. It seems impossible. As the minutes tick by, as he gets closer and closer, you wonder if you even have the courage to open your mouth. It’s not as if this is life-changing news. It would be so easy, so easy to just pretend that this is nothing but a celebration of Taehyung’s very first major off-Broadway show, to push down the ache in your heart and tell that voice to stay quiet, if only for a little longer. You’ve lived like this for so long already. Who’s to say you can’t live like this forever?

Taehyung comes home as you’re flicking through late-night television show reruns and fiddling with a Rubix cube, anything to keep your mind occupied and your fingers busy. You hear as he fumbles with the lock—his key has always been a little bit off—and scramble to get everything ready, shutting your laptop and putting the Rubix cube on your designated Weird Stuff Shelf. The apartment smells like a hodgepodge of vanilla, flowers, cinnamon, and champagne, and the flowers are already starting to wilt slightly. But it’s now or never, really. 

Taehyung swings the door open with a grin and gasps in excitement when he sees you, standing in the hazy, flickering yellow light of the kitchen, surrounded by candles, with a plate of macarons and a vase of flowers on the table. 

“Oh my God!” He says, overjoyed, high off of the adrenaline from a successful show, eyes still sparking from the spotlight. “Y/N! What is all of this?”

“Just a little something from me to you,” you say awkwardly. You have no idea how to tell him. You’re not sure if you even will. “To celebrate.”

“Dare I say, this apartment has never looked better,” he tells you, beaming. He walks over to where you’re hovering by the kitchen table, knee deep in it all, admiring the sight before him. He leans over you, ever so slightly, as he takes in the scent of the flowers, the macarons sitting before him. And then he turns to you, the glow from the candles making his eyes warm and caramel-y, almost as if they’re shimmering in the light, and he says, “You did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” you tell him, because you would do this again and again if it means you could see him like this. If you could watch him burst through the front door for the rest of your goddamn life, watch as he comes home to you. “Tonight’s special.”

“It wouldn’t be without you,” he tells you honestly, candidly. He tells you that because he means it. You wish you could say the same things to him. “You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

It’s now or never. If he takes one step closer, turns to look at you one more time, you don’t know if you’ll still have the courage. You don’t know if you even have it right now, but tomorrow, when you wake up, you don’t want to regret this night. You don’t want to wonder what if, what might have been. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“I have something to tell you,” you breathe out, words heavy on your tongue. You can feel your heart seize up, almost like it’s holding its breath with you. 

“Right, you said that,” Taehyung says with a nod, stuffing a cherry macaron into his mouth. “I have something to tell you, too.”

“Do you want to go first?” You ask him. You just need a little more time. You just want to hear his voice once more. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says happily. “I got a girlfriend!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well. 

Okay. 

“Really?” You ask, trying to make it sound more like a Really? That’s great! and not a Really? I thought that we had something special. You don’t think that you’re doing a very good job.

“Yeah!” Taehyung says. He’s ecstatic. It tears your heart in two. “I mean, I know I’m just… a super, hopeless romantic and I fall in love with people when they hold the door open for me, but I’m really happy with her. It’s Ariel, actually, she played Lucy! Isn’t it funny how even though our characters never even officially met, we still found something there?”

“Yeah,” you say, emotionless. Taehyung is far too excited, far too joyous to notice. 

“I just—I wanted to tell you, because you’re my best friend and you deserve to know,” he says, breaking off half of the raspberry macaron and holding it out to you. “What did you want to tell me? Did you say it was important?”

“Oh, uh…” you fumble, shaking your head at the macaron. Your stomach has never felt smaller. It’s like there’s nothing left to say to him. “I think I’m getting transferred to another office.” It’s not news. Your job told you that last week. But it’s something, and it’s better than being honest. Anything is, at this point. “They might pay a little more.”

“Yay!” Taehyung says. “That’s great! Now, maybe we can fix up the lights in the kitchen. So they don’t read horror movie every time I try to make pasta at 2AM. I’m happy for you, you deserve it!”

You smile, putting on a brave face, just for him. “Me too.” You can’t muster up the strength to say anything else. 

Taehyung spends the rest of the night gobbling down the macarons and telling you all about Ariel, as you try desperately to tune him out. Even the sound of your own thoughts would be better than this. Anything. Anything. Eventually, after it’s long past midnight and Taehyung realizes he’ll need his sleep for the show tomorrow night, he bids you goodbye and sets off to his room, a bounce in his step.

You stand in the middle of your apartment. Even though it’s small, and even though you have him, it’s never felt emptier.

Namjoon always says that flowers don’t just need food and water to stay happy. They need love, they need to be surrounded by happiness. He says that they can feel it, that they react to it. That’s why he always tries to be happy when he’s working. Because he hates seeing the flowers so sad. He says they remind him of himself.

It’s no wonder why the flowers in the vase look even more wilted than before.

Here’s the thing: You had pretty much always known that it was going to hurt like this. There had always been that part of you, deep down inside, that knew that there was no way it wasn’t going to hurt like this. That knew that there was nothing you could do to stop it from hurting like this. 

And still, foolishly so, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, telling him would make it stop. You gave into this fantasy that, even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he let you down easy, even if he told you that he just wanted to be friends, it would be better. 

That’s the worst part of it all, really. The fact that you never even told him. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t. You never told him, and now, somehow, everything is even worse than before. 

The flowers have long been thrown out by now, tossed out after hardly a week, unable to stand the tension in the air, the emptiness that lingered far beyond that night. Still, you remembered to keep one, plucking it from the vase before it died of secondary sadness. Because even if they hurt you, even if they tear at your heartstrings one by one, you’ve always had this terrible habit of never letting go of what you love. You pressed the flower with an old college textbook, placed it into a thin little vase, meant for one flower only. A red carnation, to remind you of what you could have had. What might have been. 

Kim Taehyung is significantly less worried this time around as he prepares for the opening night of his latest play. He wakes up early and does some yoga in the living room, pushing all of the furniture to the walls so he has enough space to Downward Dog in peace. He watches a couple episodes of Jeopardy! as he eats the Pad Thai he Doordashed to your apartment, and gets half of the questions correct. Even from your bedroom, you can hear him talking to Sawyer. 

“I’m excited for tonight, Sawyer,” he says to him. “I don’t know, last time I did Shakespeare was sophomore year in college, I think? I was Mercutio. It was fun and I got to use a sword. Y/N came to that show, too. I annoyed her so much that night that she told me that she was glad Tybalt killed me, but we had a good time anyway.”

Sawyer doesn’t say anything back, because he is a Suspicious Floor Dip in your living room. But it’s so lovely to hear Taehyung’s voice again. 

“Do you think that Y/N’s been acting weird, lately?” Taehyung asks. “I just feel like—I feel like she and I aren’t as close these days. She works in her room a lot more and some days I don’t see her at all. Which is crazy, because we live together. My ex always said it was a little weird how I lived with my best friend who is also a girl. But I don’t think it is. Do you think I did something wrong?”

No, you wish you could say, leaning against your thin bedroom door as you hear Taehyung wonder aloud. Never, in a million years. It was me, you want to tell him. I got my hopes up and now I’m paying the price. It’s not you. It’s never you. 

“Yeah, I guess she’s just busier these days,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “She did get transferred to that new office a couple of months ago. But she’s still my best friend. I’ll never stop telling her that—she deserves to know that no matter what, she always has me.”

“Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Therapist, huh?” You interrupt, finally getting the nerve to open your door. Taehyung’s on his way out, all dressed, backpack on his shoulder. He has to be at the theater a few hours before the show begins, anyway. 

“He’s just so easy to talk to,” Taehyung jokes. “Did you… uh… did you hear that?”

“The part about being your best friend?” You ask with an eyebrow raise, making Taehyung smile. You don’t mention the other things you heard. You don’t think that would make things better. 

(You’re not sure what will, at this point. Telling him is off the table. You distantly wonder if it was ever on the table to begin with.)

“Just making sure you knew,” Taehyung says with a grin. “Don’t want you forgetting about that.”

“How could I?” You muse, and it makes him smile something fierce and makes you wish that things were different. 

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Taehyung says. He must know the answer, already. 

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “Who do you take me for?”

“I’ll look for you in the crowd, okay?” Taehyung says, a hand on the doorknob as he gets ready to leave. “Keep an eye out for me. Promise?”

It’s always been so hard to say no to him. 

“Promise,” you tell him. 

That night, you sit a little further back, shadowed by the mezzanine above you, but Taehyung finds you anyway. As he schmoozes his way through the storyline on stage, he sends a wink your way, a couple of the girls in the row in front of you giggling to each other when he does. You sort of wish he was really winking at them. That way, it would hurt a little less. 

Afterwards, you linger around in the lobby, waiting for him like you always have, like you always do, like you always will. You don’t have anything special waiting for him back at your apartment. There’s nothing left to tell him. 

You spot his head of soft, wavy brown hair far before he spots you, can make it out in a sea of cast members as they cheer for themselves, celebrating another successful opening show. Your face lights up when you see him, when you see that he sees you. This is how it has always been. This is how it should be—you find each other in the crowd, grinning as you congratulate him, as he introduces you to his cast members and then invites you to the afterparty. You spend the night together, high off of the adrenaline and just a little tipsy, before stumbling back to your apartment, basking in the afterglow. 

You want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were. 

And then, you see her. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung shouts excitedly, and it takes all of your strength to not let your face fall as she comes into view, hand interlaced with Taehyung’s. “I knew you’d be here!”

“How could I not be?” You say, letting Taehyung wrap you in a one-armed hug rather than two. “You know me.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Taehyung introduces proudly, motioning to the pretty girl beside him as she waves at you good-naturedly. “Madison, this is my roommate and college best friend, Y/N.”

“Taehyung talks about you non-stop,” Madison says with a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the love of your life’s new girlfriend? How else can you salvage this conversation when you already see it going terribly? “You both were really good tonight. I’m happy that I came.”

“Me too!” Taehyung grins. “Did you see me wink at you? I promised you I would.”

You nod, eyes desperately scanning the rest of the room, the rest of the people, the floor, anything to keep from watching as Madison drapes herself over Taehyung, intertwines their hands as she leans against him, like she can’t get enough of him. 

“Hey, do you want to come to the afterparty? It’s at Alex’s house, apparently he has this brownstone in Brooklyn all to himself, I’ve heard it’s gorgeous—”

“No, actually, I have a lot of work that I need to catch up on,” you interrupt. You don’t think you’d last five minutes there, where the only person you know is Taehyung, where he’s got a girlfriend on his arm the entire time. You aren’t even sure how you’re faring now, if you’re even  breathing, standing before him and his equally-gorgeous new partner. 

You just wish everything could go back to normal.

Taehyung’s brows furrow, disappointed. “Oh, you do? But—”

“Yeah, I’m just—I’m really sorry, Tae, you know I want to. But I should get going. It was really nice meeting you, Madison, I hope we can see each other again sometime—” You spew out a few more goodbyes and even more apologies as you rush towards the exit, turning away so you don’t have to see Taehyung calling after you. 

On the way back, you bump into Namjoon, who’s closing up shop for the day. He looks positively exhausted, always working diligently from morning to far past sunset every day, but he smiles when he sees you, setting aside his tired eyes to say hello. 

“Hey, Y/N, fancy seeing you here,” he greets. “How are you? How’d it go?” He gives you a sort of grin that means that he thinks it went super well. 

“Not great,” you tell him truthfully, because it’s late and you don’t feel like hiding things anymore. 

“Oh,” Namjoon says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he thinks that none of the things he has to say will go down very well. You know the feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, even though it’s not. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Namjoon asks solemnly. 

You frown. “Do you really think we should both be having this conversation?” Namjoon has his own secrets, his dreams of a short boy with colored hair by his side. “You aren’t much better.”

“No, I’m not,” he muses to himself. “But it is a big deal, Y/N. Please don’t act like it isn’t. You love him, don’t you? Even if he doesn’t love you back.”

You love him. 

It’s not a secret anymore. 

You love him like the stars love the moon, surrounding her in their light, making sure she never gets lonely. You love him like an old Hollywood movie, film faded and worn, getting played once in a while to make sure you never forget where you started. You love him like a flower, carnations, daffodils, chrysanthemums, perking up when you’re around him and wilting when you’re not. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh. Certainly, there are more important things to dwell on. You’re looking for a new job because being an office temp isn’t exactly what you were envisioning for your life. You want to start fixing up the bathroom, because the grout by the shower is starting to disintegrate. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip is a fire hazard. “I’m okay with just being friends.”

Namjoon smiles, and it’s so sad, but not with pity. It’s sad with I know, and sad with feeling, because he gets it, and that must be why you’re here, standing on the sidewalk at ten on a Friday night, underneath the street lamps as the city begins to open its eyes. “But when you have him the way you do, how can you be okay with any of it?”

Taehyung comes home late that night, and you only know because you’re running to the bathroom at the same time he fumbles with the door. He takes longer than usual, which means he’s drunk, and you can only hope and pray that he’s alone. You watch as he finally manages to unlock the door, stumbling inside, managing to turn on the main overhead lights in your apartment as he does. From where you’re peering at him from the darkness of the hallway, you can make out dark red, purple spots all along his skin. 

You pull the bathroom door almost shut, leaving it a little ajar so you can gaze out at him, watch as he pours himself a glass of water and downs the entire thing before he makes his way to the hallway, heading for his bedroom. From here, you see the way his hair is mussed, all fucked up from someone’s hands in it, see the marks up close, the way they line his neck, his jaw, his collarbones. He finds his way to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him as you stand, trapped in the bathroom, mad at him for not knowing but furious at yourself for being so ridiculous.

Love was never supposed to hurt like this. 

The next time that you attend one of Taehyung’s opening nights, you don’t stick around long afterwards. 

You were planning on it, of course, like you always do, because ever since college you’ve made a point to see him after a show, tell him all of the things you wish you could say to him all of the time, you were amazing, you were brilliant, you were perfect in every way. You even have a small bouquet of flowers in your hands, arranged by none other than Namjoon—a pity bouquet, an I hope that you two can still be friends bouquet—ready to give to him, ready to see them sitting on your kitchen table as a reminder. 

And then, you see the way he kisses her, overcome with joy, running on that post-show high. You see the way he pulls her into him and plants one on her, arms wrapped around each other as they celebrate, in their own special way. 

Suddenly, the flowers feel like dead weight in your hands. 

You manage to catch one of the few co-stars of Taehyung’s that you recognize, one who was in Our Lives with him. His name is Seokjin, and he’s gorgeous. Broadway material. Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony material. He stops to say hello to you, and you ask if he could give the bouquet to Taehyung, tell him it was from you. 

Seokjin’s nice. He doesn’t ask why, he just nods. It saves you the trouble of telling him. Nobody wants to listen to your sob story. He says goodbye to you, and that he hopes to see you again soon. You hope so too. 

You spend the night curled up in your room pretending that everything is fine. You don’t see Taehyung when he comes home, and you don’t see him the next day, either. 

It’s not as if you’ve started to avoid Taehyung entirely. You live together—it would be downright impressive if you didn’t see each other for a whole day. It’s just, sometimes he still—

“Y/N? Wanna order Pad Thai?”

“Hey, Y/N, they’re playing The Devil Wears Prada on Freeform, do you want to come watch with me?”

“Central Park is having a Dog Festival, do you wanna go together?”

And sometimes, you just can’t. The thought of spending time with him makes your heart ache, whether it be from not wanting to be too close, or from missing him terribly. Either way, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to muster up the same courage you once had. 

Turning to look at the pressed carnation in the vase atop your dresser, you laugh to yourself. It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago you thought that you would finally be able to tell him, to open up your heart and let him look into it like a kaleidoscope. Hard to believe that there was once a time when you thought that maybe, just maybe, he loved you back. It feels like it was eons ago. Like it was another universe entirely. 

You know that it’s not right for you to do this to Taehyung. He’s still your best friend. He always will be. He has no idea. He’ll never know. 

But sometimes—

Sometimes he comes home love drunk, wasted on kisses, splotches of pink lip gloss decorating his skin. 

Sometimes he spends dinner telling you all about the date he went on, the amazing vodka shrimp linguine he had, as the two of you eat Kirkland spaghetti in your dinky apartment. 

Sometimes he tells you that you’re his best friend, and that he misses you. 

Being in love with Taehyung had always been easy. It was being best friends, and making sure to keep the feelings a secret, that was hard. 

Taehyung isn’t home tonight. You hadn’t asked him where he’d be. You didn’t think that it mattered. 

And you tell yourself, over and over again, that it doesn’t matter. That you don’t need to know where he is every second of every day. He’s got a life outside of what exists in your stuffy apartment, a whole world of people craning to see him. He has reviews written about him in  The New York Times and people lining up outside the theater for his autograph on their Playbill. There’s so much more to his life than what he has with you. 

It’s better this way, you tell yourself, even if it’s not. Even if every time you step into your apartment, glance over at the vase on the kitchen table, you are reminded that it’s worse. Every time you see a damn carnation, daffodil, chrysanthemum, you can’t help but wish that things were different. You’re even starting to avoid Namjoon. 

That night finds you at a small Italian restaurant in a tiny alley off of Ninth Street. You’ve never been, but it had good reviews on Yelp and you could do with spending some time alone, wallowing in your feelings somewhere other than your bedroom. You’re starting to feel suffocated just being there. It would be good for you to get out. 

It would be good for you to get out, because the apartment reeks of what ifs, of what could have beens, and you can’t spend more than five minutes inside without throwing yourself your own personal pity party. You hardly see Taehyung nowadays because you can’t bear looking into his eyes anymore. Everything is awful, and you wish that it wasn’t, but you don’t know what to do to fix it. 

But Fate seems to love doing that thing where it’s out to get you. From the moment you met Kim Taehyung, Fate decided that you would be her next target. That no moment with him would leave you unscathed. And tonight is no exception. 

It’s just your luck that, ten minutes after you’re seated, the bell above the door rings to signal another customer, and you look up to see Taehyung and his girlfriend strolling in, glowing under the warm yellow light. You’ve never been more thankful, in that moment, to be seated right beside the bathroom, just out of sight of the booth that the hostess leads them to. It’s terrible, and it’s terrible, and it’s terrible. You watch as they order two glasses of a fancy rosé and giggle as they cheers to their show, to their lives, and to themselves. They spend the evening in the light of a single exposed bulb above their head, laughing and smiling and talking. 

The craziest part is that once upon a time, that would have been you. You and Taehyung would have decided that the night was a restaurant day and not a stay-at-home-and-cook-meal day. You would have found a quaint little place on Yelp and gotten the cheapest food on the menu. Once upon a time, you looked like that. 

[April 17th, 7:34PM]

Taehyung: [image sent] Taehyung: MMMMM look at this yummy yummy fish that I had tonight!! Taehyung: We should go here sometime!! I think you’d like it hehe

You look down at your plate. The food in front of you tastes like ash. 

“Congrats,” you say when you hear Taehyung leaving his bedroom, feet padding against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Huh?” Taehyung asks, eyes wide. It’s almost as if he’s surprised to see you out here, sitting on the couch, answering emails. Like he can’t believe you’re in your own home. You can’t blame him. “What are you talking about?”

“The review on The New York Times,” you tell him distantly, switching over to the tab on your computer where you read it. There’s a picture at the top of Taehyung and his co-star, front and center, holding hands as they look off into the distance, staring into an unknown future. “It’s your first five star review, isn’t it? They even listed it as the Critic’s Pick.”

“Oh, I… uh,” he begins, “I haven’t seen it yet. Been too busy.”

Bitterly, you wonder why. Even when you two are further apart than you have ever been, even when he spends all day out of the apartment and you spend all day inside, even when you barely fucking see each other, you can’t help but click on the articles that mention him, scroll through every review that mentions his name. 

Things might be different now, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be proud of him. Of what he does. Of who he is. 

“Well, they said great things,” you tell him, sparing him the trouble of looking. “You deserve it.”

“You’re coming tonight, right? You have to, if the play is getting such good reviews,” Taehyung asks, an olive branch. You’ve spent so much time doing everything you can to keep your relationship as distant as possible, hiding in your bedroom and eating dinner at odd hours. But this is the one thing that you both can still hold onto. Taehyung’s shows, his performances, and you, in the audience, always finding his eyes. If everything else is in shambles, at least you will always have this. “I think you’d like it.”

“It sounds very Matrix-y.”

“Well,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “It sort of is. But it’s also about love. You’d like that, right?”

You suppose you’d like it a little more in another timeline.

Taehyung continues, barely giving himself time to catch his breath. “Basically, these two kids are playing this life-simulation game where every move they make directly corresponds with the actions of the characters they’re playing as. Cue me and Lancaster. And we meet, and slowly fall in love, over a series of chance encounters. You know, a coffee shop, the bank, a restaurant.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowed. 

“Why?” Taehyung’s eyes widen in concern, smile downturned ever so slightly as he takes in your expression. 

“I don’t know—” you begin. There’s just something about the storyline that rubs you the wrong way. “Maybe I’m just being cynical. But is it really possible for two people to find love like that? Through chance? Luck?”

Perhaps, Namjoon would say. You can hear his voice echoing in your head now. After all, wasn’t it luck that brought the two of you together?

You shake his thoughts away. Namjoon’s got his own set of problems—he’s in no position to be the wise one in this scenario.

Taehyung shrugs, as if he’d never given that a thought to begin with. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think that love can blossom anywhere. Just so long as you nurture it, water it and give it lots of sunlight. I just—I think that if you look hard enough, you can find love anywhere.”

You turn to face him, blinking up at him as you stare at each other, sitting on this damn couch in the middle of your apartment. Taehyung waxes poetic in front of you, tells you that if you just fucking look for love, you’ll find it. But he doesn’t know—and he never will. You’ve been looking for love for the past four years, you’ve been searching in all of the nooks and crannies of your body, and the only place you’ve ever found it has been in the deep pit of your heart, dusty and quiet and forgotten. Even now, staring into his eyes, scanning every bit of his irises for even a sliver of it, a spark, you come up empty. 

How could he say something like that, when he lives with you? When he looks at you while you’re eating takeout or sitting and watching a movie together. Does he just not see it? Or worse—does he know, and just refuse to say anything?

Suddenly, your body turns cold. It’s hard to believe that someone as hopelessly romantic can’t see what’s right in front of him. 

“I wish that was how it worked,” you say sourly, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. You snatch your laptop from the table and head into your room, leaving Taehyung alone on the couch, speechless.

He may be the one with flowers blooming in his heart, but you have been drowning for the past four years, and never have you felt further from the surface than right now. 

You don’t go to Taehyung’s opening show that night. 

Taehyung leaves to get ready at the theater at three in the afternoon, and you bid him goodbye before holing yourself up in your bedroom and keeping yourself busy. You start watching the newest season of Stranger Things and tidy up the knick knacks you have scattered all over the place. Anything to keep your mind occupied. 

Taehyung texts you during intermission.

[June 3rd, 8:55PM]

Taehyung: Hey are you here?

You don’t respond. 

By ten at night, you end up with the cleanest room you’ve had in years and half of the season left to watch. It’s not a great kind of busy. The red carnation atop your dresser stares into your soul and you nearly throw it out three different times. But it’s an okay kind of busy, because you don’t know if you could have beared to see Taehyung on stage tonight. See him dancing around with a beautiful girl on his arm, confessing his love for her and pulling her in for a kiss. 

Over the years, you have seen Taehyung kiss so many people. From the shy freshman boy cast next to him in a student-written play in college to the model-esque women on stage in an off-Broadway play with him. And it never used to hurt—not like this. You saw him lock lips with another and you supposed that that was just show business. 

But it’s not show business anymore. It stopped being show business that night, when he came home to an apartment lit up with candles, the sweet scent of macarons wafting through the air, and told you he had found someone. It hasn’t been show business since, not when Taehyung is looking for love and finds it everywhere except where you wish he would look most. 

Maybe you’re just being selfish. Taehyung doesn’t have to love you for you to love him. You knew that. You lived with that. He’s your best friend. He always will be. You can’t do anything to force him to love you back. You had always been fine with just being friends. 

But just—knowing that he doesn’t feel the same. Having that certainty rooted deep within you. That’s the part that hurts the most. 

Taehyung comes home earlier than he normally would on a day like this, catching you in the kitchen as you brew some chamomile tea, hoping that it will calm the waves that crash against the pier inside you. You turn to meet his eyes, and suddenly, you feel like you can’t see anything in them at all. 

“Why didn’t you come tonight?” He demands. “I looked for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“Here,” you tell him. “I was thinking maybe I would go tomorrow.”

“But you’re always at my opening show,” Taehyung says, like you don’t know that already. “Why didn’t you come? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” you tell him. You don’t think you’re drunk or tired enough for this conversation. At ten at night, you’re still cognizant, aware of what consequences this conversation might have when you wake up in the morning. 

“Then why weren’t you there? You know I need you there,” Taehyung pleads, coming up to you as you stand in your kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“No, I didn’t know that,” you tell him firmly. You went to his opening shows because it was tradition. Not because it was necessary. 

“You’re my good luck charm, for god’s sake, Y/N,” Taehyung says, fists curled up at his sides. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to burst at the seams, like there are so many things he’s holding at the tip of his tongue. “I did such a shit job tonight without you there. I spent the entire first half of the show looking out into the crowd so much that Lancaster asked me if I had taken anything before we started.”

“That’s not my fault,” you tell him. “I didn’t know that you thought I was your good luck charm, or whatever.” And, because you’re bitter and petty and heartbroken, you add, “I would have thought that would be something your girlfriend is.”

Taehyung loses it. “What’s been going on with you, Y/N? Why are you being like this? Ever since my first show, I feel like we’re drifting further and further apart. You never want to spend time with me, you never want to come to my afterparties, you barely spare a glance at my girlfriends when I introduce them to you, and now, you’ve stopped coming to my shows. All of these things that I thought that we shared, ever since college. Tell me, Y/N, am I doing something wrong? Is there something that I’ve missed? Because it feels like we’re fucking strangers.”

The water finishes boiling, the kettle whistling on the stovetop as steam billows from the spout. “I’m not obligated to do any of those things, Taehyung,” you tell him harshly. “Just because we did them in college doesn’t mean I have to keep doing them now. What, did you think we’d still be doing that sort of stuff when we’re thirty? Forty, fifty? They were just college traditions.”

“‘College traditions’?” Taehyung asks, astounded. “Were all of those nights that we spent together just college traditions, too? Are we not allowed to do those things anymore? I miss you, Y/N. I hate not having you around and tonight was the worst it’s ever been. I don’t know what to do or say, I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t even fucking know what’s broken.”

“I just need space, Taehyung,” you tell him, hands gripping the edge of the countertop as you stare at the laminate, eyes tracing the lines to keep you from meeting his own. “I just need some time to myself, that’s all.”

“But why, Y/N?” Taehyung pleads, He reaches over to grab your hand, holds it in between the two of you like a lifeline. 

“‘Why?’” You echo angrily. “You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?” You tug your hand from his grasp. It’s clear you’re beating a dead horse. You wonder why you even tried in the first place. How naive you were, standing in the kitchen surrounded by scented candles and flowers and macarons, dreaming of a life with him by your side. Foolish. 

“Realized what?” 

“That I’m in love with you!” You shout, and the world goes silent. The kettle stops whistling, the water having evaporated into nothing, the packet of chamomile tea left, forgotten on the countertop. You stand there, breaths heavy, chest heaving, as you look at Taehyung, angry and mad and in love, all at once. 

“You’re what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” you hiss. “I already know that you don’t feel the same.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” You turn on your heels, storming into your bedroom and collapsing against the door. Finally, finally, finally, you let the tears wrack your body, sending shivers down your spine. There’s salt on your tongue and smudged liner beneath your eyes. 

You thought pressing flowers makes them last forever. But even the red carnation is starting to shrivel. 

Subject Title: New Project????

From Park, Seojoon, to me

Hi Taehyung,

You did a great job last night in Chance Card! Really proud of you for accomplishing so much. Pretty soon you’ll be on Broadway and be too big for a small manager like me. You’ll need an agent, and a publicist, and a stylist, and a dog-walker…

Anyway, just emailing to let you know that Hugo Cleveland reached out to me to see if you were interested in auditioning for his next play. He personally wanted to see if you liked the part, and would give you preference if you did want to audition. It’s called Cupid, and it’s another one of those modern-day retellings of an old tale. I thought you might like it. Attached is the script and a short description of the play. Let me know if you’d like to give it a shot! I think this might be the project that gets you onto Broadway!!

As always, contact me if you need anything at all.

Park

Taehyung, still in bed despite it being nearly noon, taps around on his phone, pulling up the description of the play. He hates reading PDFs on his phone, so he’ll check out the script on his laptop later. 

Cupid by Hugo Cleveland

Cupid chronicles the tale of the world’s most well known hopeless romantic—Cupid himself. Set in a world of magical realism, Cupid has the power to make two people fall in love with a single shot of his arrow, and spends his life walking around the city of New York, bow and arrow by his side. 

The only problem is that Cupid has no way to make people fall in love with him, because his magic operates under the assumption of soulmates—a single person meant for another. And as the years have gone by, he has searched and searched and searched over millennia, desperate to find love, but it’s almost as if everyone has soulmates except for him. 

Little does he know, he need look no further to find the person he shall spend the rest of his life with—not when his best friend has always been by his side. 

Taehyung glares at the description like it’s personally offended him. He knows that it’s just a coincidence that he happens to receive this email the morning after his fight with you, but he can’t help but feel like God is playing the world’s worst practical joke on him. 

Cursed with the memory of an actor, he replays last night in his head over and over and over again, looping the feed back and forth as your words echo in his mind. 

You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?

He never knew what he was supposed to be looking for. You were just friends, you had always been just friends. But then he looked out in the crowd and couldn’t see you anywhere, couldn’t make out your eyes even in a sea of hundreds like he always does, and it felt like there was more than just another audience member missing. He spent the rest of the evening getting his hopes up, thinking that maybe you’re just sitting somewhere else, maybe you put in colored contacts, maybe you’re hidden by some really buff guy in front of you. 

He missed you, last night. He’s been missing you a lot recently, missing the way the days you spent together would bleed into nights. Missing the way you wrap your arms around him and smother him in cuddles, missing the way you always remember his takeout order for the fifteen different restaurants you frequent. Missing the way he once thought that you could spend your whole lives together. 

Realized what?

He supposes that he has always been a bit foolish. All of his ex-girlfriends broke up with him, never the other way around. And while they all ended on good terms, they all said the same thing to him: it always seemed like his heart belonged to someone else. But he misread that, too. He just thought that he hadn’t found the right person, yet. He would keep searching until he did. 

That I’m in love with you!

The craziest thing about it all is that your confession didn’t even shock him that much. After the initial surprise wore off, it was almost as if the dust settled around you, the storm finally calming. Like finding the last puzzle piece after thinking it had been lost for days. Like feeling everything click into place.

Taehyung has been thinking a lot about last night, but his least favorite part is always this:

I already know that you don’t feel the same.

He wishes that he could have told you. He wishes that he could have been strong enough, could have realized what he had before it slipped through his fingertips. Wishes that he could have reached out and grabbed onto you and never let go. There’s nothing more that he wants to do than see you again. You live in the same tiny New York apartment, and you’ve never felt further away from him. 

Taehyung wills himself out of bed and washes his face, clearing away the leftover makeup and the sleep in his eyes. It’s a fresh start. It’s a new day. 

He sees you standing in the kitchen, making that tea that you had left forgotten last night. He catches your eyes for just a second before he loses them again, watches as you turn your back to him in a desperate attempt to avoid contact. 

“I got a new potential show to audition for,” he says loudly, breaking the silence. 

“That’s cool,” you say, emotionless. 

“Do you want to know what it’s about?”

You don’t respond. Taehyung takes this as a cue to continue. 

“It’s about a boy on a search for love,” Taehyung begins, rallying himself despite only being able to see your back. “And he goes out and sees all of these people falling in love and wants that for himself. And he wonders why nothing is sticking, why he can’t seem to fall in love with anybody. And then he realizes that the reason he can’t seem to fall in love with anyone else is because he’s already found his person.” A pause. He’s just summarizing a story, but this feels like a confession. “His best friend.”

You turn around sharply, tea sloshing in the cup in your hand. Taehyung inhales, then exhales. It’s now or never. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“Don’t you think I’d play this part well?” He asks. 

You shrug, closing your eyes and breathing heavy. He can tell that you’re holding something back, trying not to burst at the seams. “I’m not sure, Tae.”

“I think I would,” Taehyung tells you confidently. He takes a step closer to you, reaches over to take the cup of tea from your hands, placing it on the counter. “Because I’ve been doing it for so long, already.”

You gasp when he kisses you, a gust of air escaping your lips and immediately mixing with his, seize up at the feeling of his lips on yours. Immediately, Taehyung wonders if he’s overstepped a boundary, or two, or five, but then he feels you relax under his touch, feels you reach your hands up to cup his cheeks as you press against him insistently, drunk on the taste of his lips on your own. 

Taehyung’s kissed a lot of people in his day, but this one is different. He’s felt sparks, seen fireworks, but with you, it’s as if he’s sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. As if he’s returning to an apartment filled with the things he loves after a long day out. As if he’s coming home. 

All of these emotions, all of the little things tucked away in the corners of his soul, in the dark attic of his heart, come bubbling up to the surface, and all he can do is hope that you can feel them, swallow them up like wine, as you press your lips against his, grinning. 

Finally, you pull yourself away, almost as if you think you’ll get drunk if you keep going. 

“How long?” You ask. 

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t know. A while now, definitely.”

“Really?”

“I think so,” Taehyung says. “I guess that I was wrong, what I said before about looking for love. I looked everywhere, I wanted to see it in every spark that was set my way, but I forgot the most important place. I should have known.” You curl into his touch, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist. “How about you?”

“Forever,” you breathe out. “It started and it never stopped.”

Taehyung beams. The flowerbud in his heart had been shuttered for so long, hardly watered and never in the sun. And then suddenly, the curtains opened up and the clouds began to cry, and everything blossomed. You make him feel like he’s always home. You make him feel safe. 

You make him feel like a red carnation in bloom.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[smileyyoungchan]

Sweet Chaos- Lee Chan

Dino x reader

Song for this one: Sweet Chaos- Day6

Phrases for this one: “Mind if I cut in?” “Kiss me” “I’m like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horrible and violently, but honestly it’s a really solid plan

Warning: none

Genre: fluff

Just wanted to say that I love Chan so much and I’ve loved writing this thing about him 🥺

You were laying on Dino’s bed, in his dorm, watching the ceiling as it was the most interesting thing on heart.

Dino was showering, and he invited you to sleep at his dorm, even tho he just had an hard day of practicing, just because he wanted to stay with you.

You perfectly knew that he will end up falling asleep and you will end up watching him without being able to sleep; but it didn’t mattered, as long as you were with him.

When he closed the bedroom door you looked at him. He was the sweetest creature you’ve ever seen.

“Ehi babe. I’m sorry I took so long”

You sat up and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry. The ceiling was really interesting”

He chuckled and hearing his little laugh was the best thing that ever happened to you.

“What do you want to do tonight?” He sat beside you and watched you, tilting his head a little bit.

Every single feature of his face was perfect, seemed to be sculpted by an artist.

“Chan, you know we’re not allowed to sneak out” you said, already knowing where is mind was flying.

He smiled, and you recognised that smile, and you were really worried about it, cause it always led to unwanted consequences.

“I know, but I have a plan”

“Oh no” you sighed, but Chan continued to explain his plan and was completely unbothered by your statement. He explained every single detail, without thinking about the biggest problem: Jeonghan catching you.

“There’s no way this will work” you said, stopping his never ending ranting.

“I’m like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horribly and violently, but honestly it’s a really solid plan”

“No it’s not?” Chan didn’t even seemed hurted by your words, he was so sure that everything will work perfectly.

You got up from his bed and followed him out of the room, knowing for sure that you’ll be stopped by Jeonghan, cause that man seemed to have a Chan sensor, or something like that.

You had to admit that Chan’s plan was really working, until you were so close to the door that you could have almost touched it.

Soonyoung came out of nowhere.

“Mind if I cut in?” He asked, whit a smile on his face. He was always so cute and helped you in many situations.

“Uhm yes?” Chan said. He was so pissed.

“Where are you two going? It’s almost eleven!” He whispered.

You just watched the two of them giving each other some death glares.

“None of you business” Chan said back, trying to cut that stupid discussion and sneak out with you.

“Oh, you play that card, maknae? Well, be careful cause I can play the Jeonghan card”

“You wouldn’t”

“Try me”

Soonyoung was so close to open his mouth to scream Jeonghan’s name when you decided to save yours and your boyfriends life.

“Soonyoung, honey. Could you please let us go? I promise you it won’t be happen ever again and I’ll buy you an ice cream tomorrow morning”

“Make two and you can considered it done” he cross his arms on his chest.

“Deal” you said.

Chan was in shock beside you. His eyes running from his band mate to you.

And he continued to stare at the both of you, with a surprised look on his face, till you took his hand and whispered “Channie, let’s go now”.

When you were outside, walking in the desolated streets around his dorm, Chan was leading you two into a place that he defined as ‘the best place in the world’. You followed him without asking anything else, but you were a little bit unsure of this definition; however, it didn’t really mattered cause you were with Chan and every place was the best.

“Here we are”

Chan took you in a little garden, hidden somewhere, in a dark street.

“Chan, this is beautiful!”

“Told you so”

He then, gently, started to walk, inviting you to do the same. He lead the both of us to a bench and here he sat, and you placed your head on his shoulder.

“You know. The first time I discovered this place was when I argued with Jeonghan-hyung because of our relationship. It wasn’t like he didn’t wanted for us to date, cause you know he loves you, but sometimes he’s a little overprotective with me. So when we argued I rushed outside the dorm and while I was wandering I founded this place, and the first thing that came to mind was ‘wow. Y/N is gonna love this’.”

You highly appreciated when Chan thought about you. He was always in your mind and discovering that you were in his too was the best feeling in the world.

He turned his head so he could face you, and you instantly left his shoulder and watched him too.

“Kiss me” he said.

It was a simple request, but you could have felt a thousand of butterflies dancing with a sweat melody as background music, in your stomach.

And you did it. You kissed him.

The night passed by and you two weren’t tired of each other yet, and you will never be.

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep6: Joey Wheeler is on Fire, Yet Again

Came down with a little sickness-not the biggie, just a little sly guy. But I took some meds, I’m a little floaty, I’ve only been listening to baroque music all morning for some reason? And I hate baroque music usually? But I’ll leave it to bro to tell me if this is fluid enough.

Just so you know, these caps were kind of a hot mess for a while and some of them read like that Garfield in of hot eat the food comic until...today. So pls don’t judge me, Judge my damn DMV where no one was following Covid regulations because I’m pretty sure that’s where I got this damn cold.

We start off with Roland getting more attention than he ever has in his entire life. Like honestly, I don’t know what Roland’s job really is...but he’s got a very diverse set of very useless skills. One of which, is knowing how to announce sports games that aren’t really a sport, while those games he’s announcing slowly fall into chaos.

Anyway, Roland’s taking so long cherishing his sweet time before everything goes to hell, that he’s boring Joey, who’s kinda turned into a ball of stress in the waiting room.

A lot of this episode is us watching them watching Joey having a break down moment by moment, TBH.

(read more under the cut)

Yugi telling Joey to study his cards and straight up--what?

Like at this point they know what’s on the cards, right? Like there comes a point where even Yugioh cards have a finite amount of words and I’m just going to assume that like...Joey probably knows them all in his own deck, right?

(bro note: they have no limit on what they will put on a card)

Then again, maybe Yugi doesn’t know what “study” means?

Also, appreciate how some artist crosshatched the hell on Joey’s nose there and I zoomed out and ruined it.

Now for some reason every duelist is hanging out in the duel lodge, including our current arch-villain guy who’s brought a book. I want to know what book this guy even reads so no one could suspect he’s actually a hacker who uses computers. He’s reading romance, right? And I don’t think he’d even be into Twilight, I think he’s straight up into hard core Mom romance like a lame ass Nicholas Sparks over there reading “Dear John” for the millionth time because he is completely un-phased by anything else happening in this room.

Joey, our hero, just out there being an asshole for no reason.

After Tea is pushed into a locker or something screaming about her need for female friends (which she screamed in earshot of Rebecca again, who I figured was on friends terms with her after last episode...but I guess not) Leon hops up to remind us that we should be caring about the fact that his character exists.

And like, I love Leon’s hair color--that’s a good choice, and legit that is the color I tried to dye my hair at the beginning of the epidemic (it didn’t work PS, my hair cannot take dye for the life of it) but also like...he just kinda feels like a weak Rebecca as far as characters go. He’s young, he’s good at cards...I think he goes to a private school? That’s all I can think of about Leon.

He mostly just reminds us that the big prize of this tourney is to duel Yugi, who anyone could have dueled at any point even without the tournament.

On the way out of the...duel room? lounge? Area? Joey decides to like...make peace with Zigfried, and I gotta tell you, I kinda have to side with Zigfried, because Joey spent the last ten minutes being a freak in the dressing room/lounge/bathroom and at one point looked like he was going to hold the entire locker room in a stranglehold.

I would also want some space from Joey Wheeler, is what I’m saying.

After insulting Joey’s style (which honestly, Joey...has a style? He pops his collar, that’s his entire style.) Zigfried assures us that Joey’s gonna lose and like...

...probably, right? Just looking at the plausible direction this season will go.

Anyway, Joey is such a mess (which is the theme of the episode, that Joey needs to learn to chill in order to win at card games) that Rebecca is like “I understand if all of you leave me to go help our poor baby Joey.” And no one felt bad for her.

Mokuba comes over to tell everyone all of the Kaiba family secrets because Mokuba has no filter.

Seto has devoted himself to staring at a computer screen for the rest of this episode. I guess he’ll put their names into Google, realize that social media hasn’t been invented yet, and then just lie his head down on the desk and take a power nap until the tournament is over. Much like I did after taking Dayquil this afternoon.

I like how Seto dressed for success and then locked himself in the server room for most of this arc so far. Maybe he’s just...really tired, I dunno. I don’t really blame the guy, he’s had a hard time.

And then Yugi was like “DAMN IT MOKUBA, JUST ONCE CAN YOU NOT INVITE THE ILLUMINATI???”

And we had a weird scene where Yugi just started talking to the ghost and it was while he was talking to everyone else, and the show didn’t treat it like that’s a weird thing to do...but it was a weird thing to do.

This show does that sometimes, where I guess they imply that Yugi’s Pharaoh conversations are split second conversations but...they’re not, right?

Also this chick ain’t gone yet, and Mokuba is just failing at his entire job for not zeroing in on vibes coming off this chick like stinky cheeseman.

So listen.

Did the Kaibas make like 3 types of Blue Eyes Caboose to one up Noah? Because Noah made one choo choo dragon, and then Mokuba and Seto were like “how dare” and then made sure that everyone ride every single version of the blue eyes caboose just to see how proud of them they were.

How many months of troubleshooting was the train? Like how long in development did Seto and Mokuba spend on these? A lot right? Like most of the time?

I did not check the subs to see if Roland said Jumping or Champion but I like to believe that Roland thought it was a cool new name he gave him.

Then these guys all showed up.

Hey so...can we talk seating arrangements?

Tea decided not to sit next to Yugi after complaining about not spending time with him for like how many episodes? Or was it too awkward to sit on top of what was probably Pharaoh?

Or did Mokuba go like “please, Tea, I cannot sit next to the others because I’m pretty sure one is a mole that is about to go cray” and was Tea like “Good, I need female friends, these ones are driving me crazy!” and then was Mokuba like peering desperately over the edge of his self made dragon train prison realizing he has to listen to Tea complain about boys for the rest of his ride across molten lava?

Headcanons abound about this weird seating arrangement that the animators drew for the reasons they did...but reasons I cannot fully understand. That and the Dayquil is making me overfixate on random stuff.

And also, Tea is kind of the Kaiba’s security’s understudy. Just there to always protect Mokuba with her ass because she’s the strongest woman alive.

PS I missed the tumblr wars because at the time I was trying to like...run a proper business on blogger. When Blogger died and I jumped over here it was like a weird ruin where everyone was like “tumblr is the most toxic place alive” and...I’ve had a really nice time here, actually. Completely missed that civil war period and I have no regrets.

Now I was there for the Petz wars (warz, I guess) where people were very militant about Petz abuse (abuze?) where apparently people were using the spray bottle on their catz too much and people were very, very upset about it to the point that they were like campaigning about it on their angelfire websites with the most bizarre grassroots campaigns that I still recall, to this day because they were like...well they looked like this:

PLAPA. Not only am I 100% positive that only this one guy ever called this movement PLAPA, but I’m 100% positive that not only are Catz not real people, but also this wasn’t actually happening and we never had any proof that it was. Either way, if people knew or suspected that you hadn’t deleted the spray bottle from your game (which at the time I had no idea how to do because I was a wee child) they would basically assume you were on a one way road to being a mass murderer in real life.

In real life we were 7 years old so like...thanks?

But that’s the closest I got to toxicity and at the time I was too young to make an email account and actually converse with these people. I was just there to download their Petz hexes, and I already made a post about how wonderful and incredible Petz Hexing was.

And y’all, I heard, just now after a little deep dive into the Petz Abuse debacle (which yes, is on the wiki), that apparently, like gardening, Petz Hexing came back in a big way during the epidemic--and I have found an active Petz forum in this the year 2021. The only problem is that I no longer remember how to use old timey forums...and I think I’m locked out of seeing most of these threads (and like this forum is so old I think I have to send them a letter in the physical mail to apply). But, I’m pretty sure they’re hosting a picture contest for who’s dogz poses the best. And I’m pretty sure someone created a hexxed Pickle Rick. Or it’s a photoshop that was made to look like a hexxed Pickle Rick.

Dammit why did it have to be Pickle Rick? That’s not worth re-installing Petz and getting it to run on Windows 10...

Guys is this the Dayquil? Is this really happening? I feel like I’m losing my mind for so many reasons...

Anyway, speaking about useless hexing it’s about time that our villain did something that was actually dangerous, so Zigfried decided to install a new virus that does more than turn off the lights. (it still turns off lights)

the Spreadsheet Virus!

Confounded by the spreadsheet software, it...um...it does this:

Straight up how does Excel make a volcano erupt? Is that why I have to pay for Microsoft office now?

All this because Joey made fun of Zigfried’s naturally pink hair? Which is the most normal hair on this series outside of like...Tristan?

Hey guys...Joey’s fine, right? Like how many times has Joey been on fire? And once in an iron cage next to like...a Fire Golem?

Joey’s fine.

MAN I miss Fire Golem. He had a good mug.

And then we just kinda watch chaos go across the park, chaos that includes: Too many ghosts in the haunted mansion (which honestly--you’ll get your money’s worth, sounds great!), the Ferris wheel goes kinda fast and thus might accidentally be fun, the lights turn off at some concert stage that only had 2 people on it (so it might just be motion detector lights and not even a virus), and um...literal fire and magma are going to set Joey Wheeler on fire.

Just...one of these events does not seem like the others. In fact most of these things sound like good improvements to the park and they should just hire Zigfried at this point.

Roland puts down his microphone and jogs across the stage, about a mile through the audience bleachers, and into the staff lounge, to go and bother Seto Kaiba, who is in a room that has a hi-def classical painting copy-pasted on the wall and I can’t look away from it.

I almost did a Google search on this painting but then thought better about it. There’s like...a billion classical paintings that look exactly like this, and they wouldn’t use like a Monet, they would have to do something that’s harder to catch to avoid copyright issues (because yes, even old ass paintings have copyright issues, but no one tell NFT’s which are going to be so freakin screwed and was such a bad idea, that I can’t even start).

Anyway, I have no idea who it is and it is legitimately driving me up a wall, but I’m on too much meds to do the effort of putting it in a reverse google image search.

Plus, a reverse google image search would only pull up Seto Kaiba.

So Kaiba takes us on a little flashback to his weird ass past, a weird ass past that just...doesn’t follow any of the established timelines, but I assume was shortly after adoption but before Seto got into a phase where he wore his school outfit everywhere and tried to shove his MMO off onto his Dad as a business model.

Seto is like 8 for some reason. I don’t know why, they kinda drew him younger this season anyway, like maybe they got a lot of fan mail and realized “Hey I think we made the 16 yo boy too sexy?” And they just toned Seto the hell down. That, and it’s a different animation team, and maybe they looked at Seto’s character design and were like “we don’t get paid enough to draw this well.” So...since Seto actually looks like a teen again, I guess his 12 year old self has to look like he’s in Elementary school.

Also, I only recognized this, because at some point in S3 as I was roasting Noah Kaiba’s weird fashion:

I remember distinctly roasting that little bow tie. I don’t remember when I wrote it, I think there was a version of this outfit that was in color...but I don’t remember where.

Anyway, it’s not the same jacket...but man that’s kind of awkward, ya? Like the maid who dressed Mokuba deffo got fired?

He um.

Turned the lights off a little bit.

Guys this villain is like...

...why does he think lights are scary? Like look at little Seto here. The boy is already bored. Seto duels on the edges of cliffs...he doesn’t care about the freakin dark.

We had a guy who killed everyone on the planet last season, and this season we have a little fashion gremlin standing in the corner and flicking the light switch going  “wooooo you never catch me!” and it’s like...

...I’m starting to think this guy isn’t a witch.

Like we’re at Episode 6, there’s still time for this guy to be a witch...but I really am starting to think this guy is just...straight up not a witch. It’s everything Seto wanted, a rival who isn’t a freakin magic person...and sets Joey only fake on fire instead literally on fire like last time...

and Seto is just completely unhinged by it.

Anyway, I’m off to go drink a bowl of soup and pass out. If you’re new here, this is a link to read these in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[onyourzeus]

12:15 am | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: 12:15am pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: fluff, small caps words: 2.4k

author’s note: extra fic for tonight, just all around fluffy bf!yonk getting a call from his drunk s/o in the middle of the night. do enjoy.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

younghyun loves the grind. but if there’s anything else that he looks forward to during a hard and long day of working, it’s the feeling of coming home once he’s done. he makes sure to take off his shoes with as less noise as possible, knowing the fact that his roommates slash bandmates are enjoying their sleeping hours of peace and solitude. 

with just a loose shirt and boxers on, he finally feels less restricted and more comfortable in his own skin. the urge to clean himself of sweat, and polluted air that had clung on him with a nice, hot shower is tempting— but the exhaustion in his heavy shoulders and drooping eyelids convince him otherwise. 

he’ll hate himself for dirtying his sheets, but tomorrow is sunday which means it’s time to do his laundry, anyway. 

tossing his used clothes in the hamper, he prepares his body to get swallowed by the softness of his comforter, and the warm void of his thick blankets. of course, before he passes out entirely tonight, he doesn’t forget to send you a text. the one important thing he shouldn’t miss out on. 

really tired. gonna crash in 2 seconds. text you tmr, love you

usually, younghyun would wait until you respond because the many heart emojis that come his way act as his goodnight kiss while the two of you are apart. besides, you normally reply in an instant which is a habit he’s worried about, really, since you need some rest too. 

he tries to fight the sleepiness away from his senses, but the more he sits on his bed, back hunched and ready to collapse, the less energy he has left to wait for your message. he frowns, suddenly wondering about your whereabouts. you always tell him first hand if you’re too busy to check your phone throughout the day, and younghyun appreciates the thoughtfulness. even if he couldn’t reply “okay” right away, the two of you have a shared sense of understanding as to how your kind of long distance relationship works by now. 

sighing, he eventually puts his phone on the bedside table and plops himself in the covers. it feels really, really good to be in his own personal space now, and younghyun thinks he deserves to rest longer than normal tonight; it was a pretty productive day in the studio. he finished another collab with an artist he’s been meaning to contact for months, and he was glad it came to fruition with great success. he also managed to write a few arrangements for the band’s upcoming album, even if the group decided it was too early to work on it yet. 

younghyun believes it’s never too early as long as inspiration is present. if he didn’t so much as write down possible lyrics or harmonies on a piece of paper every day, he’d slowly feel his motivation being sucked out of him. if he was being honest, that was one of his worst fears as an artist, so every day is work for him, it just depends on how much he wants to get done in a day. 

as his thoughts fizzle out in his mind, his consciousness brings him to dreamland until a constant vibrating noise disrupts him from his end table. younghyun is about to pull the sheets over his head, thinking nothing of the sound but an annoying notification from something unimportant— but then he remembers you. 

with his second guess being right, younghyun has a twinge of guilt in his throat for believing you were not worth it to get up from the coziness of his bed. rubbing his eyes to seem more awake, he picks up the call and greet you in a whisper. 

“hi, baby, what’s up?” younghyun says, voice low and hoarse from multiple recordings in the studio. 

“cheese,” you mumble on the other end, voice rather solid and awake which causes younghyun to perk up a bit. 

“what was that?” 

“cheeeeese, brian,” you slur, elongating the repeated word as well as saying it in a higher pitch. immediately, younghyun senses the somewhat incoherent mumble in your nevertheless pretty voice, and judging from the fact you unironically called him by his english name, there was only one explanation: you’re drunk. 

he finds himself smiling as he answers, “are you home, babe?” he wasn’t angry about you drinking, he does remember you telling him a few days ago that you might go out with friends but you weren’t sure when. maybe tonight was the night and you just forgot to remind him; no big deal. 

“i think so?” you hiccup, followed by a soft chuckle. younghyun’s heart soars at the sound, and it pains him at the same time that he couldn’t be there to hold and take care of you. he leans against the headboard, making himself more comfortable as he listens to you ramble on. 

“all i know is that— burp— it was wendy’s birthday… or was it her cousin? cause she was there too, and i never met her before and— oh my god, i don’t even remember her name i’m such a bad new friend— whatever, anyway, it was someone’s celebration and we bar hopped to a lot of places and it became really sweaty and loud and at one point i had a flamingo shot in my hand and and—”

“hold up, flamingo? you mean flaming?” younghyun interjects, chuckling at your jumbled up story. he imagines you shaking your head as you whine at him for interrupting you. “no, nooooo. it was red and fiery and there was a lot of smoke and i’m sure it represented the beautiful, long-legged bird called flemings.”

this time, younghyun couldn’t stop himself from choking out a laugh, and in turn you huff from the other end, and refuse to continue further. 

“i’m sorry, go on. please, i’m interested with what happened after you took this mysterious shot that starts with an f.”

“are you sure you won’t laugh?” he hears you quip in a tiny, slurring voice, and it his chest tightens at the thought of making you go through this drunken state alone. younghyun cards through his hair in frustration towards himself, realizing how much he misses you in the moment. he doesn’t want you to stop talking, god if he can only see your lips move in person—

“i promise, babe. so, what happened next?”

“if you say so,” you mutter indignantly, but proceed with the story even though you’re unsure of where it’s going. “um, actually. that was it. i think i took everyone’s flamingo shots in their hands and next thing i remember, wendy or her cousin or whoever it was tucked me in bed and now i’m in the kitchen eating cheese.” 

the string of words you had uttered made younghyun feel three emotions in succession: one, impressed that you were able to down more than one shot while he’s not there to monitor you; two, relieved that you confirmed your safety inside your apartment; and three, plain confusion as to why you didn’t stay in bed and instead, eating what you say is cheese while on the call with him. 

“can we turn on the videocall?” he asks gently, and you hesitate.

“i don’t look cute right now…”

“you’re always cute. please?” he tries to sound convincing, knowing that you do get insecure when your face is flushed red from the alcohol. even still, he doesn’t tire from complimenting you otherwise. 

“okay,” you relent, and younghyun’s heart skips a beat anticipating the sight of you on his phone. he turns on his camera, and he’s appalled at what he sees: daar under eyes, no make up on, and a face that describes weariness to a T. in this case, it should be him who feels insecure looking the way he is, but he’d take the risk if it meant seeing your face. 

“hello? is this thing on??” after a few seconds of lag, your screen cleared up and younghyun watches you poke the camera repeatedly. “bri, it’s so dark in here am i even alive right now?”

you never fail to lift his mood up during an exhausting day of activities— as your schedules collide against each other, and there would be less time for moments like right now, younghyun only asks for a few texts sent his way as reassurance that you’re still with him. you always comply, and sometimes younghyun doesn’t get to uphold his side of the commitment during the rare days that he just want to shut off the world.

still, he’ll wake up from a text with your name on it, and the hearts he missed the night before. and he feels whole, and ready to take on the world again.

so this time, younghyun wants to make you feel heard— and seen, as these days work seems to occupy more of his time and burden him with the pressure of exceeding his own expectations. you don’t like seeing him worry about how he’s doing in the industry, so younghyun does his best to appear cheerful and curious in front of you— or his phone, at least.

“yes, you’re very much alive right now, babe. are you really eating cheese at this hour?” he shouldn’t have asked. it was obvious the thing in your hand was, in fact, string cheese being eaten in the most ungodly fashion, but it’s you— and younghyun would rather watch you bite into it, cringing inwardly, instead of passing out with another day longing for your presence. 

“let’s eat cheese together,” you suggest, shoving the half-bitten string cheese into the center of the camera as if it was a mic being handed over to younghyun. “do you want to eat cheese with me, bri?” you ask again, tone small but hopeful. you put your hand down, and younghyun finally has a full view of your face. 

you had taken your makeup off, judging from the bare skin and slightly smeared lipstick on the side of your lips. your hair was splayed out down your shoulders, a combination of curly and straight strands framing your beautiful face. he surmises you used a curling iron this morning, imagining the frustration on your facial features as you try to make it work. 

“briannnn, cheese?” 

younghyun focuses on the present, and he notices the glimmer in your eyes amidst the only light coming on your end was his screen’s brightness. he shakes his head slowly which causes you to pout. 

“no thank you, baby, you can have it all.” 

“but i saved some for you, right here. you get the other half. just like you’re my other half. hehe, get it?” 

“yes, baby, that’s very sweet and clever of you.”

“you should hire me as your lyrics… manager. maker? lyrics person? lyricist!” you grin widely after figuring out the right term, and take another bite off the string cheese. 

“i think you’re doing a great job at being my girlfriend, though,” younghyun tells you, and it takes a few seconds for those words to process until he hears the eventual whine, and covering of your face with your free hand. 

“babe.” no response.

“baaabe.” you mumble something he couldn’t hear. younghyun takes in how adorable you are, and doesn’t pester you for a minute. this bothers you, apparently, as you peek through your fingers and catch him doing one of his silly faces that corners you to laugh abruptly. 

“not fair!! you know that works every time,” you whine in defeat, and younghyun can only smile proudly in response. 

“you know,” you start off, and younghyun prepares himself for another stream of consciousness on your end before you continue, “even if we’re far away from each other, and that we can’t eat cheese together, you’re still the best boyfriend in the entire galaxy.” 

if there’s anything else that younghyun loves apart from the feeling of coming home after work, it’s the feeling of being loved by you. 

he waits for you to finish your string cheese, and you argue that you’d like to eat another one. but it was getting late, and younghyun didn’t want to look even more tired on call, so he urges that you two fall asleep while the call goes on. 

as he wiggles back inside the covers, he watches you struggle to get your whole body in the comfort of your blanket. his hand holds on the phone as he readies himself to sleep sideways. 

“stupid blanket,” you mutter in annoyance, deciding to take one leg out of the warm sheets and at last, feel content on your bed.”that’s better,” you sigh, eyes falling asleep before younghyun. 

“comfortable?”

“not really.”

“oh, why not?” younghyun asks. 

“you’re not here beside me.” and your answer breaks his heart. 

younghyun is pretty good at consoling you with his words at times when you need it, but you beat him to it this time. 

“it’s okay though, younghyun, i can get by like this for now. i know—” you yawn in between, “you’re working super hard for the next comeback— actually, you work no matter what project you’re doing, babe. you’re insane, i hope you know that.”

it was younghyun’s turn to blush, and hide his face in the pillow. the drowsiness is making him soft, and weak from denying the truth in your words. he can definitely agree with a lot of people in his life that he needs to take it slow some days. and when it comes from you, he then knows to take that advice seriously. 

“i do know that, baby.” 

“it’s not bad, though!!” you object, zooming in to your eyes as if to let him know you’re saying it as a good thing. younghyun chuckles again, lifting his face up so he can witness your goofy antics once more. 

“i think it’s… really badass. you go younghyun,” you yawn again, dropping the phone as sleep attempts to befall upon you. “sorry, my hand was getting numb.”

“that’s okay, go to sleep now.” 

“no, you.” 

“that’s literally what we’re trying to do, babe.” 

he hears you snicker, and with that he felt it was okay to lay his phone next to him, too. he probably wouldn’t see your face in the morning on the call anymore as his phone wasn’t fully charged at all. however, as he hears you quietly snoring on the other end gives him a sense of security, and the status of his dead phone battery doesn’t matter so much for now. 

“i love you,” he whispers into the night, eyes closing in, smile taking him to dreams where he can hold you tight.

“love you more, younghyun.”

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 11)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 1818

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hayden,” you said jovially as he covered your eyes, “where are we going?” you demanded playfully.

“Just a few more steps, please,” he requested, just behind you. 

A week had passed since Hayden had asked you out, trying to find a day that your schedules lined up. Now he’d had you blindfolded since you left the house, and when you got out of the car, he had you walking, covering your eyes with his hands now.

You thought you could hear water, you could hear people chatting, you could hear birds, you could hear...something hitting something, like wood on wood. 

You had no idea where you were. Your best guess was a pier. Maybe he was taking you fishing. 

“Okay, open,” Hayden quietly said and you slowly opened your eyes, the sunlight stinging at first as you looked around. You were at some sort of dock, with several gondolas.

“What is this?” you asked, looking at your surroundings with question. 

“Come on,” he said with a shy smile as he gestured for you to follow him, holding out his hand. “It’s a gondola ride,” he informed. “I thought instead of the typical dinner date, since we eat dinner all the time together, this might be a little more...fun.”

“I’ve never been on a boat before,” you softly murmured.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” he noted. “I’ll be there, not that that’s much comfort,” he teased. 

You scrunched your nose at him as he pulled you along to the rental booth, stating he had a reservation. After confirming all the details, they got your boat setup, a gondolier joining you. 

“After this, I thought we could grab lunch at a really small out of the way place I have in mind, if that’s okay with you?” he asked, seeming a little nervous.

Grinning at him, you nodded. “Of course, whatever you want.”

The two of you drifted for a little bit before the inevitable conversation started. You had started with talking about a couple of things you’d seen in the news, giving your opinion on it. Hayden agreed mostly with your views, offering questions or comments here and there. After a while, the conversation had steered from new to embarrassing moments that you’d had. You had recounted a time of being hotel manager that you’d walked in on a couple in a rather...explicit scene. 

“Oh my God,” Hayden said while laughing heartily. “You didn’t. Didn’t you knock?”

“I did! I thought I heard them say ‘Come in’ but I was mistaken. They had said, ‘Come on’...” you said, your cheeks blazing as you covered your face with your hands, laughing from the tale. 

“Not sure if that’s as bad as me walking in on Natalie during dress change for Star Wars,” he commented.

Your face went into shock as your mouth formed an O. “Oh no. Oh god. How did that happen?! You’re not serious. You’re messing with me,” you accused. 

He shook his head as he bit his bottom lip, chuckling. “Nope, not joking. It was, uh, it was...we were getting changed for one of the scenes. I thought I’d stop by to ask her her opinion on one of our next scenes. Her door was cracked open so I thought it was okay -- because she typically cracked the door when she was reading lines. I walked in and she was only halfway dressed.”

“Oh no!” you said, laughing. “Was she mad?”

Hayden shook his head. “No. She actually thought it was funny. I didn’t see anything but her back, but it still made it awkward for me for a while. She said that she thought she’d shut her door. The two of us eventually had a good laugh about it, but I thought I was a deadman when i opened that door.”

“Oh, aw,” you cooed sympathetically with a laugh. 

The two of you continued your sweet, blissful ride, swapping humiliating stories, reminiscing about hilarious childhood memories. The ride was so fun and light, the two of you laughing as you continued talking, learning about one another, and for you, falling more in love with him. Hayden truly was so sweet, level headed, down to earth, and yet, he had so many reasons that he could be totally full of himself. 

A few times, he asked you to elaborate or explain more about yourself, seemingly enthralled in your boring, mediocre life. The ride came to an end after a while, the two of you thanking your gondolier as you climbed out. He drove you over to a quaint cafe that was actually situated back in an alley. You had to go between two buildings, past a gorgeous courtyard, and then into the actual cafe. The two of you ordered and went back out to the courtyard and sat in the shade, continuing your conversation, learning all about each other.

The two of you touched a little on your personal lives. He told you about his parents, his sisters, diving into their relationship, and you loved and admired how highly he spoke of them. He was proud and impressed by all their accomplishments and it was wonderful to see that in a man. A huge turn off for you was someone who didn’t like their family. You offered up some about yourself as well, going into your childhood, your home life. 

At first, you weren’t sure that dating would be different from being friends, but quickly, you realized it was. Questions went from “What do you want for dinner?” to “What was your favorite meal growing up?” It felt backwards, to live together, to get used to each other domestically, and then start dating and learning about each other. But in one way, it got the worst part of the relationship out of the way. You weren’t learning about him in his everyday life, the two of you were trying to learn about each other, treading the waters to see if you had chemistry, anything to bond you two. 

Sure, as friends, as roommates, it was a pretty good time, but you’d seen before where friendships work, but the romance didn’t. In this case, you were praying that wasn’t true. And thus far, it proved not to be a problem. The two of you not finding anything you would consider a red flag or a deal breaker.

All too soon, the date was over and the two of you went back home to go back to living life as you had. You had some errands to run, as did Hayden, in different areas all over the city so you went your separate ways, the entire time mulling over the date, feeling giddy, excited and hopeful for the whole thing.

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

A few days after your date, you were working your normal shift. Getting lost in paperwork, you were standing at the check in counter, the lobby completely empty, and you began to sing without thinking. Seeing as it was rather late, and you didn’t expect anyone to come around, you were humming a few bars of your own song when a man approached the counter, but you didn’t hear him. 

Not paying much attention, you continued singing when the man finally cleared his throat.

“Excuse me,” he softly said, making you jump.

You looked up and apologized, seeing a heavy set, middle-aged man leaning with one arm on the counter. 

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry,” you apologized quickly, getting red-faced. 

“Not a problem. You have a good set of pipes on you,” he said, and you thanked him. “Typically, I don’t do this, but your voice...I’d like to work with you.” He pulled out his wallet and handed you a business card. “I’m Trey Corzon.”

“Trey Corzon?” you asked, fangirling and starstruck. Trey was one of the biggest names in music right now. The hottest names were popping up, and his name was all over them as the producer. 

“I’m a music producer. I was wondering if you’d like to give me a call sometime? Maybe we can work out some time in a booth. If you’d like,” he offered.

“I would love to,” you nearly shrieked.

“Do you have any demos?”

“Uh, yes, actually! I’ve got one with four tracks. Give me just a second and I’ll go get them,” you said just before you ran off to your office, grabbed the demo you kept on hand and raced back to him. “They’re a little rough, but I really think in the right hands, it could be something pretty special.” 

He took it from you and smiled. “Thanks. I’ll give it a listen. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/F/N,” you said slowly, to make sure he heard all of it and remembered it as he shook your hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.” 

“Likewise, I’m sure,” he kindly said. “Well, hey, I gotta get running. Need to meet one of my artists at a release party. I’m gonna give this a listen in the next few days. Give me a ring, and we’ll set up something.”

“I will,” you promised, about to burst. 

“Thanks, have a good night.” 

The two of you waved as you waited until he was fully gone to do a small happy dance. You pulled out your phone and texted Hayden, telling him you had some great news.

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

Your shift finally ended and you nearly raced out of the hotel, throwing yourself into your car to speed home. As soon as you got in, Hayden’s face lit up.

“So what’s this great news?” he asked as he got up from the couch.

“I got discovered!” you nearly shouted, excitement in your face, voice, and body as you nearly jumped with glee. 

“You did? That’s fantastic!” he said as he ran over to you, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around. When he sat you down, he cupped your face, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and brought his lips to yours, fervently. A congratulatory kiss. 

The kiss was swift, sweet, and punctuated with heat. When he let you go, you were breathless.

“Wow. I should get discovered more often,” you noted with bliss, your eyes still closed as he still cupped your face. He kissed your forehead and offered you to sit on the couch while he reheated leftovers for you. You told him all about it, how big of a deal it was, how excited you were. 

He seemed genuinely thrilled for you, unlike Jason, who constantly told you it was a pipe dream. The two of you talked for a little while longer, you getting entirely giddy about the idea of being a singer. Eventually, the two of you needed to go to bed though, so you bid each other a goodnight and parted ways, but for the first time in a while, you felt good about the future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​

@magpiegirl80​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​

@missinstantgratification​

@thejemersoninferno​

@rda1989​

@munlis​

@thefridgeismybestie​

@bubblyanarocks3​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​

@feelmyroarrrr​

@kaeling​

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​

@damalseer​

@heyitscam99​

@yknott81​

@sorryimacrapwriter​

@glitterquadricorn​

@bittersweetunicorm​

@alyssaj23​

@sea040561​

@princess76179​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​

@sarahp879​

@malfoysqueen14​

@ellallheart​

@breezy1415​

@marvelmayo​

@lyniboy​

@paintballkid711​

@pandacookieowo​

@beiroviski​

Hayden Christensen:

@coldlilheart​

@haydens-moles​

History Repeats:

@multifandomblog315​

[twstwonderlandstuff]

When a cub visits! (Cheka and OC! ft. Leona and Grim)

Cheka and Himawari Nikko! ft. Leona and Grim

Summary: It's a little difficult to draw when there's an enthusiastic lion cub by Himawari's side. Luckily, he's got plenty of tales to entertain them.

A/N: THIS IS NOT A SHIP BETWEEN LEONA AND MY OC, you hear me! Leona is 20, a certified adult. My OC is 16, a certified TEENAGER. This is about a teen who happens to take care of an adult's nephew, and then they have little interactions, okay? Ok.

Warning(s): I'm using they/them for the sake of lore (cuz their actual gender isn't revealed yet HEHEHE) so... yeah.

Notes will be written after the fic and will be placed under-cut because of length.

_____

Leona sighed, frowning. Why, of all days, does he have to be here?

“Uncle Leona!” God, what an annoyance.

“What?” He spat at his nephew, who was holding his hand and walking cheerfully next to him down the hallways. Many steered clear of the lion, and for good reason too.

“Can we play Magic Shift? Please?” Cheka begged, looking up at him.

“Go by yourself.”

“But Papa said I gotta be with you all the time!”

“Tch-” Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the herbivore who ruined his plans… a sneer crawled up his face.

“After you play with the herbivore over there.” Leona gestured lazily towards the orange-color mop. “Then I’ll play Magic Shift with you.”

“For real?!” Cheka lit up, squeezing Leona’s hand. “We gotta make a pinky promise first, uncle!”

“Fine.” After the deed was done, Cheka ran off towards the boy and Leona quickly made his escape to the botanical garden to sleep.

=

“Hey hey!” Himawari turned around and so did Grim who laid in their lap. They were perched on one of the benches in NRC, looking at the sunset as one does.

“Hey, it's Leona’s kid!” Grim noticed, tilting its head. “Why’s he coming to us?”

Cheka quickly fell into Himawari’s arms, which scared Grim from leaving their lap. Hima gave the lion cub a quick squeeze before making him settle down next to them. They took up their notebook, quickly scribbling: ‘Hello!’

“What’s the big deal, oi!” Grim grumbled. “That was my seat!”

“Uncle Leona said I gotta play with you before I can play Magic Shift with him!” The child smiled with glee, sharing a toothy grin. “So, I’m gonna play with you!”

“He totally wants to get rid of you, huh…” Grim whispered, both it and Himawari sharing a look. Himawari smiled, carding a hand through Cheka’s hair, writing: ‘How long are we going to play?’

Cheka shrugged. “Dunno, I guess until Uncle calls- oh!” Cheka quickly reached for the notebook. “Can I draw, uh… hmmm…”

“The name’s Himawari, and I’m the Great Grim! Remember us!” Grim cackled, smirking.

“Oh-oh! The one who fainted during the Magical Shift! That was funny!” Cheka pointed out, laughing. Himawari let out a sigh, glaring at Grim.

“It’s not my fault that henchman's really weak!” Grim shot back, sticking its tongue out. Himawari shook their head at the cat, nodding at Cheka’s request.

“Yay!” The lion cub got busy, but eventually…

=

“Aww… it didn’t turn out right…” Cheka gloomed, staring at the picture. “Uncle Leona… doesn’t look like that!”

“It looks kinda bad-” A sharp glare came from Himawari. “Ah, uh, it looks pretty good, kid!”

“No, it doesn’t… you’re lying!” Cheka grumbled, starting to sob. “Uncle looks cooler than this…”

An idea sparked in Himawari’s head as they gently took the notebook away from Cheka, writing: ‘I can draw him for you if you'd like.’

“...Okay!” Cheka gave the magicless student a thumbs up, pressing against their side, enthusiastically waiting. Grim followed suit, pressing against their other side. With a small smile, the Ramshackle Prefect began to sketch.

“Uncle’s so cool…” Cheka murmured, laying his head on Himawari’s shoulder. “I wanna be like my uncle one day.”

“But he’s kinda lazy, you know. He slacks off and is kinda a douche.” Grim grumbled. Cheka shook his head.

“No, he’s not! My uncle works hard, it’s just… no one knows that he does.” The cub trailed off quietly. “When he’s at home, sometimes I see him reading books and solving hard stuff, but he doesn’t know that I know.”

“...I like my uncle. He’s the best.” The lion cub smiled, looking towards the orange sky. “Someday, I’m gonna beat my uncle in Magic Shift, you'll see!”

‘Good luck.’ Himawari wrote on the notebook, adding: ‘It’s gonna be hard. Your uncle is strong.’

“Yeah, I know, but I will! Oh, you know, I’ve been working on my roar. Wanna listen to it?” Before he could get an answer, Cheka roared, making Himawari pull away.

“Fgna-!” Grim was quick to cover its ears.

“Tada~ Uncle’s gonna love it- pfft!!!” Cheka’s eyes gleamed in excitement as the cub took a look at the drawing, already giggling. “His face!” Himawari flinched at the sudden movement.

“Has he ever smiled like that…?” Grim asked, peering at the drawing. Himawari shook their head.

‘Probably not.’ They giggled. ‘I’m not good with faces.’

“Can I show this to Uncle?!” An immediate shake of the head came for the artist. “Why not? He’ll like it!”

“More like he’ll get mad at us.” Grim corrected. “Especially with that goofy smile…”

“Hah, what’s this~?” A teasing voice came from above. Himawari paled as Cheka looked up.

“UNCLE!” Leona flinched at the volume.

“Don’t be so loud, brat.” Leona easily pried the notebook out of Himawari’s hands, to their horror.

“Hah.. what’s with my face?” The lion questioned, looking at the page. “Oi, herbivore, I don’t look like that.”

“I asked Mister Himawari to make it! It’s nice, right, Uncle?” Cheka added, standing up to follow Leona. The second-born hummed absentmindedly in reply.

“Since you drew it for me, I think I’m going to take it.” Leona chuckled, ripping the page out of the book before handing it back to Himawari. “Come on, brat, let’s take you to Magic Shift.” “YAY!” Cheka cheered, hugging Leona’s leg. “See you, Hima-chan, Grim-chan!”

“Don’t call us that!” Grim grumbled as Himawari meekly waved goodbye.

After they left, the two Ramshackle live-in’s gave a collective sigh. “He scared me!” Grim grumbled, Himawari enthusiastically nodding.

‘I thought he was going to rip my notebook.’ They wrote, smiling in relief.

“Maybe he really did like it?” Grim questioned.

They both shrugged. Himawari closed the notebook and set it aside, inviting Grim to sit on their lap as they once again bathed in the glow of the sunlight.

“I’m confused why the kid likes Leona, but eh,” Grim shrugged. “ ‘s not really our business… ah, the sun’s so warm.”

Himawari nodded. It really is.

=

“...thanks.”

“Whatcha say, uncle?”

“Nothing.”

-------

Notes:

So, there's this OC Question Meme by @marchenvillain here and it's 100 questions, so! Instead of asking people so I can answer, I'm going to do it myself!

Question 1: What’s a unique skill they have? Is there any reason why they can do it?

Answer: They have the unique skill of taking care of children. Himawari adores babies, but they don't seem to like their face very much, and kids think it looks funny, so they stick to caring for children. They got this skill from volunteering at a daycare back home.

^ (as evident by the picture, Himawari and babies don't get along well)

[mulletcal]

memento mori - an ashton irwin one shot

a/n: hi friends!! i’m reposting this bc the first time i completely didn’t give the proper credit and i wanted to correct that!  this whole thing was inspired by @sexgodashton​‘s answer to this ask. and while i could have just edited the original post to include the credit, it wouldn’t have sat right with me personally to do that and just pretend like it was there the whole time. lau’s brain blows my mind every day w her creativity and she inspires me so much, thank you lau. thank you also to @myloverboyash​ for reading this over for me i appreciate u sm! word count: 2.5k

warnings: talks about needles, ashton being tattooed, smut, there’s riding, voyeurism (sort of? i don’t know rly but i wanna put the warning there just in case), ashton having a pain kink, light dom ash, spanking, i reused two things in these that i’ve used in the past but you know what??????? i kind of love it

****

Ashton’s felt the pain of a tattoo before; he kind of enjoyed the sting, the drag of the needle. Ashton also enjoyed pain, but he never noticed how erotic the pain of a tattoo could be, the intimacy of being so close to someone’s skin, until he began to date a tattoo artist.

You met Ashton when he came into your shop one day, on the hunt for his typical tattoo artist. He was nothing short of a gentleman, something you weren’t used to when men came into the shop that you owned; Men didn’t take kindly to women being the boss of men they saw as the epitome of masculine, let alone the owner, the ultimate boss if you will. You would never forget the way his eyebrows shot up when you said you were the owner, a small grin on his lips as he asked if he could get his tattoo from you instead.

That was for his snake tattoo, and he was so excited at how it turned out that you did his rose tattoo as well. Ashton kept coming back to you, insisting on the rest of the guys coming to get tattoos from you; it wasn’t until you finished touching up Michael’s finger tattoos did he ask you out.

“I appreciate the boost in clientele, but if you wanted to take me out you could’ve asked sooner,” You had replied, slipping him your card with the business phone number crossed out and your personal written above it.

After that, the two of you had talked nearly every day while he wasn’t on tour, and he often slept over, leaving you being taunted from your employees the next day due to marks on your skin.

It wasn’t until the lockdown did you truly see how wild Ashton could be; he had chosen to quarantine with you, the most responsible option you felt because you would have tried to find a loophole to see him anyways. Ashton encouraged you to try new things with him you never thought were possible, and you were surprised at how much you loved it.

You were shocked to realize that he enjoyed not just the pain of being tattooed, but he had a little bit of a pain kink in general. He tried to shy away from it at first, but when the two of you seemingly had run out of exciting news hobbies to learn, Ashton brought up the idea of watching porn together, to get a feel of what the other person liked. You wish you had felt safe enough to record his reaction when you put on a favourite video of yours, watching him take an invisible pencil from behind his ear and pretending to jot it down.

A few moments after that, with Ashton and you definitely quite in the middle of something, your phone went off, alerting you that you would be allowed to reopen with a set list of guidelines. You’d tried to get as many of your clients in before the shutdown as possible, so you didn’t have too many to reschedule when you got back.

You and the rest of your team had decided to operate on a weekly basis, your employees being allowed to have the shop for the week, with the rules of you setting up additional cameras so you could check in to ensure they were following sanitary guidelines, and all transactions were cashless unless absolutely necessary.

The reopen was going well so far, from what you could tell. Your week had finally rolled around, and you made sure that you left yourself a free day so that you could deep clean the shop; however, that didn’t exactly go according to plan as Ashton asked if you could tattoo him, stating how it had been so long since he’d gotten one and he missed it. Of course, you immediately agreed, pulling up the list of ideas you both had brainstormed throughout the course of the lockdown.

When he got there, you enthusiastically unlocked the door, greeting him with a kiss. You were excited to use him as your canvas, even though it would likely only be something small.

“You ready love?” You asked him, scrolling through the list before looking back up at him.

“Mhm, I’ve been thinking about the list and I’ve really wanted that coin of mortality piece you drew, would you do that one on me?” Ashton had placed his hands on your thighs, tracing his thumbs in small circles against them.

“Well that makes it a bit easier for me, since it’s already drawn, let me just pull it up. Where do you want it?”

You cocked your head, your eyes slowly scanning down his body, checking him out in a way, but also curious where he would say to put it.

“M’thinking on my ribs, yeah?” He pulled back, eagerly lifting his shirt to show his left side.

You nodded, reaching out to gently trace your finger over where you thought the tattoo should go, “Like here, maybe?”

Ashton shivered at your touch, simply nodding before letting his shirt fall back down. With that, you went to print the stencil, definitely not unaware to Ashton’s eyes burning a hole into your skin.

When you turned to him with the freshly printed stencil, you grinned, “You know the drill, Irwin, hop on the chair.”

Rolling his eyes, he made a big show of stripping off his shirt and sitting in the chair. You decided it was probably the best option to have him lay on his right side with his arm just out of the way.  You prepped his skin, cleaning it and shaving it to make sure that no stray hairs would be in the way before you laid the stencil.  Ashton shivered once again, this time at the cool touch of the cleaning solution.

“Okay baby?” You asked gently, tattoo gun poised in your hand and ready to begin.

He hummed in acknowledgement, licking his lips though you couldn’t see.  You started with one small line, not missing the way Ashton sucked in a breath at the drag of the needle. Pausing to wipe at the ink, you briefly glanced up at him to see if he was alright.  Since you didn’t hear him oppose, you continued on with the outline.

Once the outline was completed, you wiped the area once more, sitting back to admire it so far, “Wanna see the outline or do you wanna wait till it’s done?”

Ashton’s breathing was slightly irregular, goosebumps raising on his skin as you cleaned off the area some more, looking for any spots in the outline that you may have missed, “I think I’ll wait til the end, thanks love.”

“Are you doing okay? We can pause you know, I know the ribs are a bit harder.”

“No, no.  It’s not that,” He was quick to say, glancing over his shoulder at you.  You could see something in his eyes, but it wasn’t pain or discomfort, instead his pupils were blown wide and he seemed aroused, maybe? “I’m just kinda enjoying the pain and I’m bracing myself for the shading.”

As you continued on, Ashton would occasionally, which would cause you to pause instantly to check on him.  He would wave you off, saying instead to keep going, that it felt good.  Had the two of you not been dating, Ashton may have felt a little embarrassed the way his cock was straining against his pants, but he knew that should you have free time afterwards, you could make complete use of the empty shop - or at least, he hoped you would.

With the shading completed, you wanted to finish off with some small white detailing.  Glancing up at Ashton, you sucked in a breath, “It’s time to do the white.  You gonna be alright or are you gonna cum in your pants if I do it?”

Ashton let out a laugh, swatting at your hand holding the paper towel, “Would rather cum in you, so hurry that ass up.”

You laughed, but the way he spoke made you press your thighs together as you changed the gun for the white detailing.  It took you a moment to get everything switched over, your mind continuously wandering to the very man whose back was facing you, lingering on the night before.  His bite marks on your breast and collarbone were still sore, but it made the anticipation of what was to come after you finished the tattoo even better.

Ashton let out quiet curses as you started the white detailing, the goosebumps returning to his skin.  He couldn’t believe how on edge he was, just from the sensation of the tattoo alone.  It was almost as if he understood now what Calum had meant when they discussed his chest tattoo, the vibrations sending chills up his spine.

He had to remember to keep breathing, that was the only way he was going to even be able to hold out long enough to make it through the tattoo, using your breaks in tattooing to take a deep breath, rolling his lower lip between his teeth.  Once you were done, you smiled brightly at the piece you had just finished, enjoying the fine detailing you were able to fit within the tattoo.

“Alright baby it’s done, go look in the mirror,” You spoke, touching his shoulder lightly so he could come down out of the daydream like state he seemed to put himself in.

Ashton stood, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the very obvious bulging in his jeans, your eyes unable to look up from that as he headed to the mirror to check it out.  “Shit, baby, it looks amazing.  You did a really good job.”

“Don’t I always?”

Ashton chuckled, nodding his head and headed back over so that you could clean it one final time and put the protective bandage over it.  As soon as that had been completed, you looked up at him.

“Alright, Irwin, sit in the chair laying flat,” you demanded, standing to your full height and looking him in the eyes.

“Oh she wants to be in control, does she?” Ashton asked with a quirk of his brow, but sitting in the chair and doing as he was told to anyways.

“I mean, sure, but it just makes the most sense to ride you while we’re here.  Also it’s easier to clean this up than the floor.”

“How do you know all of this?” “You wanna ask dumb questions, or do you want to fuck me?” You asked, hands on your hips.

Ashton smirked, running his fingers through his black locks before he reached down to undo the button on his jeans, tugging them down.  By the looks of it, he had gone commando, almost as if he was anticipating this.

You shimmied your leggings and panties down, checking behind you to make sure that you had the curtain fully closed.  Though the door was locked, you didn’t want passersby on the street to see into the shop.  Taking Ashton’s hand, you straddled his waist, placing your hands behind his head on either side of the chair once you got your balance.

“Finally can check something off our list, hm? Fucking in my shop.” You spoke next to his ear, removing one hand from behind his head so you could line his cock up with your entrance, sinking down slowly.  Both of you moaned at the feeling, now all too familiar for you.

Ashton grabbed your hips, keeping you steady as you got adjusted.  He had only been in you 12 hours before, but the size of him made you take a moment to adjust almost every time.  It was something you weren’t sure you could handle the first time you and Ashton had slept together, but that was also one of the first times that you didn’t need to be afraid of sex if it was with the right person.

Rolling your hips as a test, you groaned at the pull of his length against your walls, clenching around him.

“Keep that up kitten I really am not gonna last long,” He purred, squeezing your hips as you began a slow and steady rhythm.

You pressed kisses to his lips, his neck, just below his ear, anywhere you could reach really; you also took to tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently at each delicious thrust.  The pace of slow and steady didn’t last too long though, Ashton usually the type for hard and fast, which anyone could have guessed just by looking at the drummer.

While you were on top, Ashton decided he needed to take control, so his hands slipped to your ass, gripping tighter as he started to meet your hips at a brutal pace.  Tossing your head back, you gasped, digging your nails into his scalp; this only seemed to drive Ashton more, an almost animalistic growl tearing from his throat.  

His right hand left you for a split second, only to come crashing down against your cheek in a harsh slap that brought you forward so you could bury your face in his neck.  

“So good for me kitten, you like being spanked, don’t you? You love the pain almost as much as I do.” Ashton’s words were low in your ear, causing you to shut your eyes and nod in response.

“Yes, fuck.  Please more,” You begged, fingers clutching at any expanse of skin you could, dragging your nails across.  You began to nip at his neck as he delivered more slaps to your ass, the sting bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “Ash, so close…”

“Yeah, baby? You gonna cum for me?” He moved lower in the chair, giving him a different angle so that his cock was dragging against your g-spot each time, “You wanna fuckin’ scream for me? Come on, who’s gonna hear you?”

His words drove you over the edge with you calling out his name, loudly at first, but then softly whispered like a prayer as he fucked you through it.  Ashton wasn’t far behind, his thrusts only growing more and more sloppy until he finally came with a low curse, your body shivering as he filled you.

When the two of you came down from your highs, you lifted off of him, whining at the loss of him, and also the warmth beginning to trail down your leg.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Ashton chuckled, still panting from the exertion.

“Please,” You laughed, bending down to pick up your pants when you had a thought.  “Hey Ash?”

“Yeah love?”

“Ever wanted to make a sex tape?” You asked, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Never really thought about it, why?” Ashton looked at you, confused before brought over a dry paper towel and a wet paper towel to clean up the mess.

“Because we’re on not so candid camera,” Motioning to the newer camera you installed, the two of you burst out in a fit of laughter at the idea that you almost didn’t need to watch porn together, as you could watch yourselves if you really wanted to.

tag list:  @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @calmlftv @canyon-moan @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @notinthesameguey @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @mantlereid @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @g-l-pierce @thecurlsofgod @idontneedanyone​ @boomerash @clemmings @cthofficial​ @ashtonsos​ @yikesguys​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @mashlums​ @ohhoneyofmine​ @monimickell​ @petunias-pet​ @treatallwithkindness​ @castaway-cashton​ @tea4sykes​ @begluketostay​ @wheniminouterspace​ @another-lonely-heart​ @ghostofmashton​ @myfavfanficsever​ @xsongxbirdx​ @stardust-galaxies​ @karajaynetoday

[thebaddie96-blog]

Once In A Life Time

~Chapter 5~

“ He can’t think I’m wearing that”

“What? I think it's cute. He knows you well; red is definitely your color.”  

“I personally think she would look good in anything.”  

“Of course you would.” So-eun whispers under her breath.

Yesterday was filled with nothing but greatness. After my victory beer in the park I met up with So-eun and Min-oh for lunch to fill them in on the big news, not that they had any doubts in my abilities. They too had invitations to the black tie gala.  Z met up with us later at a pool house near my air bnb. So-eun to say the least was not a fan of Z from jump. The first moment she met her, her face immediately went cold. Z, who I've come to learn a lot about in the 20 hours I’ve known her, is childhood best friends with Jay’s little sister and a recent college graduate. She's a psychology major per her parents request with a passion for photography. She says she's working for Jay till she can make a name for herself and travel the world snapping pictures. 

We were currently sitting in my living room studying the dress Jay picked out for me. It was beautiful, gorgeous but I'd be lying if I said I didn’t think Jay was tryna show me off.   

“You're sure this is the dress, you didn’t pick up the wrong one?” I ask Z.

“Honey, when you walk into a boutique that houses dresses like this, and say you're here to pick up for Jay Park, you don’t get it wrong.”

“It pains me to say, but I agree”

“Well thank you, to the both of you, and Jay I guess. I’ve got the contract over here, let me get it to you before you go.” I grab the contract and walk her to the door.

“We’ll send a car to pick you up around 7. Will there be others traveling with you?” She trails off peeking behind me.

“Haha yeah So-eun and Min-oh will both be with me. You should ride with us.”

“I don’t think So-eun would like that very much.”

“Don’t worry about her, she's just grumpy and old.”

“Ok, well I’ll see you tonight.”

Shutting the door I walk back in to see So-eun scanning a magazine.

“Really So-eun?”

“What?” She doesn’t even look up from the magazine. I roll my eyes sitting next to her on the couch

“You know what. Why are you so mean to Z?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about. I have nothing against her”  

“Ok sure and what about last night.”

“What about it?”

“I’m serious So-eun, you wouldn’t let her get a word in, in any conversation we had. Not to mention your intense pool energy whenever she went up to pot a hole.”

“Ok, so I get a little competitive.”

“What about just now ‘Of course you would’, it ‘pains’ you to agree with her.” 

“I was joking.” Deflection from the real problem.

“Don’t you think that after all these years I would know when you're joking or when you're being hostile?”

“Stop gilling me, I don’t have a problem with Z.”

“Mmhmm well she’s coming with us to the event tonight.” She shoots me a tight smile obviously fake. 

“Great. Enough about me and your suspicions. How are you feeling, really?”

“Honestly, it all feels so surreal. None of it has sunk in yet. I mean I just got off a plane 5 days ago, I'm out here for a completely different project I just-- I just don’t wanna fuck it up you know.

“You’ve always done your best when you follow your heart. Don’t let the fear of chasing your dreams stop them from coming true because of self doubt. You are one of the most talented people I know; next to Min-oh, and if anyone deserves this opportunity it you 100%”

“Thanks So-eun.”

I pull her in for a hug. as we pull away she notices a small piece of paper on the coffee table.

“What's this?” she asked as she picked it up.

“Oh it's the business card of the guy I met when I first got in. Mr. Yo? I think his name was.”

“Yu? Christan Yu? Christan Yu was the fuckboy who splashed you with his car?”

“Well I don’t think he meant to.” 

“Did you call him yet?”

“No, why would I?”

“He gave you his card. He obviously wants you to.”

“ No he doesn't, his driver gave it to me.”

“ He gave it to you, told his driver to give it to you, it's the same thing. No?”

“Absolutely not, and it's been damn near a week, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember who I am or the situation that happened.”

“How could he not? Imma call the number.”

“What? So-eun no stop.” 

She quickly punches in the number, throwing the phone at me after she presses speaker. It rings 3 times before a deep voice answers.”

“Hello?”

I just sit there staring at the phone. 

Say something. So-eun mouths.

Like what.

I don’t know anything.

“안요?” He asked again but in Korean.

I hesitate, rushing out a quick “Sorry wrong number.” then hanging up.

“Smooth babe smooth.”

“Shut up. No one told you to do that.”

“I was just tryna help you out. You could get some good Korean Dick while you're in town. And knowing your sex drive we will need to find someone soon.”

“ I have traveled in preparation thank you very much. And how would you know if his dick game was good?” She looks at me surprised then guilty. “Oh my god. Did you sleep with Christian?”

“Let's get ready for the Gala. We only have six hours till the event starts and if you're still the same girl from college it's gonna take you forever to get ready. What time are we supposed to be leaving?”

“Oh this is great. Does Min-oh know?” She’s stuck in it and she knows it.

“No, it was before we started dating.”

“Oh this is great.” I get up heading to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“ To shower.”

“You won't tell Min-oh right?” I just continue walking to the bathroom whistling a tune “Right B?!?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This dress was tight as fuck, my feet hurt, everyone who's anyone in South Korea is here, and oh, I’m the only one in a bright red dress. The fact that I don’t like big events like this isn’t helping my mood. I need to smoke ASAP. Lucky for me I smuggled a blunt in my bra at the airport. I just have to find the right time to sneak out. I scan the room from the corner I was standing in near the stage. A perfect view of everyone in the event but still hidden in the shadows.

When we arrived Jay swooped me away from So-eun, Min-oh, and Z. We spent almost an hour working the room. He introduced me to some of the label's top artists, producers, and stylists. Even some artists from H1GHER music. Don't get me wrong, it's been fun getting to know the people I'm gonna get to work with but this is all new experiences that I'm just gonna have to get used to.

"So here is where you're hiding" So-eun sneaks up next to me leaning on the wall.

"Ha, yeah I just need a break. So Many 'hellos' 'nice to meet you' and 'the pleasure is mine'. Did Min-oh talk to his guy?"

"Yeah we can pick up after the Gala."

"Ugh, ok I'm gonna head outside for some air."

"So you sneak away, leaving me to deal with Loopy and Nafla's drunk asses on my own. And you--" Min-oh turns to me, shaking his finger. " Why are you in a corner in the dark all alone?" 

He was clearly tipsy, he gets a little clingy and bossy when he's under the influence.

" You guys were only talking to each other. What was I post to do, stand there like a deer in the headlights?"

"Yeah and I was just going to get some air, I'll leave you two to talk. Where is Z."

" With her people." "With the AOMG guys'' They both said at the same time. I shoot So-eun a look for her comment and start to walk off.

" Ok, cool. I'll be right back."

Heading off toward the exit, I clutch my bag housing my soon to be smoked blunt. I'm close. I can see the exit in the clear, bodies start dividing, allowing me to pass. I've got one hand on the door ready to open. At the same time I push, the door is swung open and I come stumbling out colliding with the feeling of soft velvet against a firm chest. 

"Sorry I didn't know someone was on the other side." That voice. 

I look up, stepping back. It's him, the guy from the airport, I mean Christian Yu, and he was looking good. Fashionably late but fashionable he was. He was wearing a slim fit crimson velvet blazer jacket with silk black slacks and crimson velvet loafers to match, his hair was styled back making his jaw line pop. I stood there just staring at him.

" Are you ok?" No realization is present in his voice. He doesn't remember me. I mean I was covered in street water, but this is the second time we've had a forced interaction and I'd be lying if I say it didn't hurt my ego a bit.

" Yeah, sorry I was in a bit of a rush. Thanks for breaking my fall tho’ I don't think this dress would have survived." He scans my body taking in the silhouette of my dress lingering a little longer than need be. "Excuse me." 

I step to the left, walking past him and heading out the door. Yeah, that blunt will be nice right about now.

[ofmelrcse]

( hunter schafer, trans nonbinary ) have you seen AVI MELROSE ? i heard SHE/THEY is/are a EMPLOYEE at HAND ME DOWN. they’re 22 years old and they’ve been living in san verto for 22 YEARS. they tend to be VIBRANT & CREATIVE, but rumor has it they can also be NOSY & RESTLESS.

hii this is my second baby avi. she’s my oldest character and indirectly responsible for the existence of this entire rp bc without avi, tally and i probably wouldn’t be friends. since i’ve had her for so long her backstory is quite detailed lol but i tried to make it comprehensible below the read more. like this and i’ll come @ u for plots.

pinterest

Born on the edge of town, where San Verto ended and nature began, Avi Maura Melrose had a very idyllic childhood. She spent her time surrounded by nature, wandering through the woods surrounding her home, trailing after the many older cousins she shared said home with. It was a happy childhood, despite her not-so-wealthy family often being looked down upon by the rest of the town. Not so much for being poor, more for being weird.

Avi’s family home was known for being the house that you went to to get your palms read, or have an eccentric-looking woman do a tarot spread for you. It always smelled like weird tea and sage. Avi’s mother, Esther, had always had a way with tarot cards and the like. To the Melrose family this wasn’t really odd. Esther and her sisters learned from her mother, just like their mother had learned from their grandmother and so on. Men never stuck around for very long, leaving a huge run down house with just women and children, Avi being one of the youngest ones. The baby of the family.

If there’s one thing that’s gonna make your life even harder when you’re already seen as the weird kid, it’s being the weird kid and being trans. Lucky for Avi, her family has always been more than accepting, there was always space for her to express herself as she wanted to. And a benefit of being the baby of the family meant that there was a team of older cousins ready to defend her at school. If that hadn’t been the case, the bullying she endured as a kid might have had some very negative and lasting effects. Instead, being her most authentic self became kind of an act of rebellion. She learned how to be happy by herself, by being herself.

Avi never really realised how she actually really missed having a friend, always being content either by herself of with the numerous cousins she could play with. It wasn’t until she was 9 that she finally became friends with Mae, the new girl in town. They immediately hit it off, and have been pretty inseparable since.

Avi took on a job at the local thrift shop when she was 16. She’d always been pretty crafty with all the hand-me-downs she got from her family, making herself a very unique wardrobe. But if she wanted something that wasn’t already worn to bits by someone else, she needed money and she wasn’t going to get it from her mom. She could have joined the family business and made a career out of tea leaves like her mother and aunts, but that isn’t what she wants to do with her life. Reading tarot is a quirky party trick for her, not a job. 

What she wants to do instead, well she isn’t sure what she wants actually. It’s not that she has no idea, she has too many. She wants to be a therapist, so she can help trans kids like herself, but she also wants to do something artistic because she’s always loved drawing, but she also loves music. And then there’s the issue of paying for college. She has collected quite the following on instagram over the past few months though, but that was never her intention, nor does she know what the next steps would be to make a career out of it. So until she figures that out, you’ll probably see her hanging around town. You can’t really miss her. She’s probably wearing something neon pink.

CONNECTIONS

i’ve got some more specific wcs below but i’m always up for brainstorming smth else of course - former bully/enemy: someone avi really didn’t get along with when she was a kid. maybe they get along better now, or maybe it’s extremely awkward. - unrequited crush: avi is quite the dreamer and a bit of a hopeless romantic. but of course not everyone is going to reciprocate those feelings. bonus points if she’s friends with this person because.. angst.

[lilacyennefer]

The Siren's Song II

Part 2

Summary: Jax meets with Grace, a singer, in Nero’s bar, and he can’t help, but fall in love with her immediately, and sooner he realises he never met with a woman like her before

TW: mention of a wound

24 hours passed since Jax asked Grace out on a date, and he didn’t call her yet.

To his excuse, he was really busy with some club business, and even got into a fight leaving him with a cut on his eyebrows. 

He was somehow ashamed to go on a date with Grace while having a cut on his face, but this was part of him, and his world. 

This made Jax worry about their future, if they’ll have a future. He still didn’t know much about her, but he knew that Grace didn’t know that Jax was the President of a biker gang, and she didn’t know that he was an outlaw, so he didn’t know her view on this. 

This terrified Jax, he didn’t want to lose her, but he wasn’t sure she could handle this life. It’s never too late to back out, he still could just not call her and ask her out, knowing it would leave both of them with a broken heart. But Jax’s heart would break even more if she’d leave him because who he really is, or worse, if something would happen to her because of who he was.

It was Sunday, and Jax knew that the club is closed on Monday and Tuesday, so Jax waited for Monday morning to call her, hoping that she wouldn't be mad at him.

On Monday morning Jax took her business card out of his pocket where it’s been resting since she gave it to him, and dialed her number.

After a few rings, she answered.

“Hello?” Grace’s voice was sleepy.

“Grace, hi! It’s Jax.”

“Oh!” her voice was more awake now.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Not really, I was already up.”

“Grace.” Jax started “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, I was really busy. I know it’s not an excuse.”

“Jax, it’s okay. I understand.” Jax felt like he could breathe again when Grace told her she’s not angry at him.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Jax asked the Siren hopefully.

“No, I actually don’t.” The truth was that Grace planned to spend the day in bed, watching stupid tv shows and eating trashy food.

“Would you like to come on a date? This afternoon?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Now that question made Jax stop talking. He didn’t have a plan yet.

“I don’t want anything fancy.” Grace answers for his silence. 

“Are you sure?” Jax hesitates, wanting to give her the best.

“Yes. I spend most of my days in a fancy bar. And I prefer casual anyway.”

After their phone conversation Grace texted her address to Jax so he can come and pick her up. 

She was nervous and excited about her date with Jax. Maybe, she was more nervous than excited. She didn’t have to know Jax well to know that he’s experienced and confident, he certainly is aware of the effect he has on women.

And Grace was the opposite of this. She was shy, she only had one relationship and that wasn’t a good experience, so she wasn’t sexually experienced either. The only time she felt confident was when she was on stage singing. She didn’t find herself attractive at all, but this can be led back to her first and last relationship. 

To be honest, Grace didn’t know what Jax saw in her, why someone like him asked someone like her out on a date. 

But, sooner or later, she will figure it out. 

After their phone conversation Jax had to figure out where he wanted to take Grace.

Casual, but lovely were the keywords. 

He didn’t talk about Grace to anyone yet, not because he was ashamed of her or anything like that, but because he tried to protect her from this world as long as he could. 

Jax kept thinking about where he should take her, he wanted to be alone with her, quietly, and he wanted some anonymity to himself.

And finally, he had an idea. 

Grace lives on the nicer side of Charming, with big and nice family houses, making Jax feel like an outsider again as he parked his bike in front of her house. 

As he walked to her house Jax swore he never was this nervous about a woman before. He didn’t want to fuck this up, he couldn’t fuck this up. Just the thought of hurting her in any way made Jax sick in the stomach. 

He ringed her doorbell and waited for her to open the door, and when she did and he finally saw her again, he gasped. 

Grace was breathtaking.

She was wearing a simple jeans and a blouse that had a delicate cleavage, not showing too much, but it was enough to make Jax’s blood rush south. 

“Hi!” She greeted him with a big smile that faded quickly when she saw his scar. 

“What happened?” Grace asked worried.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Jax replies immediately, but he saw she didn’t like the answer. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” He promised. Either way, he’d have told Grace about what he actually does. 

Grace nodded in answer.

“Hey, you look breathtaking.” Jax complimented her, making Grace blush immediately. 

“Well, thank you. You don’t look bad either.” She avoided eye contact with Jax as she spoke, and the blush in her cheeks were deeper when she complimented him back. 

Grace looked down to the floor before she looked back at Jax, but her eyes never reached him when she saw his bike behind him.

“Is that your bike?” Her face lit up again as she looked at Jax.

Jax smiles at her as he replied “Yes. Do you mind if we use it?”

“Oh, no! Not at all.” Jax swore she was excited. 

“C’mon, let’s go then.” Jax waited for Grace to close the door and follow his lead to his bike. 

“Where are you taking me?” Grave asks the Biker as she puts on the helmet Jax gave her. 

“That’s a surprise.” Jax smiles at her. 

Jax could see Grace get nervous and her smile faded a little bit.

“I wouldn’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.” Jax quickly says “If you want me to tell you, I will.” 

Grace hesitates for a few seconds before she replies “No, it’s fine.” she takes a deep breath “I trust you.” 

There was something in Jax what made Grace trust him. She didn’t knew the Biker very well yet, but something deep inside her told her she could trust him. And the fact that Nero knew him and trusted him confirmed her feelings. 

Grace’s heart skipped a beat when she sat on the bike behind Jax and wrapped her arms around him. She could feel how hard his body was under his t-shirt and this made her heart beat faster and a heat rushed between her legs. 

Not long after they left Grace’s house, Jax parked his car in front of a huge park.

“Figured we’d get coffee and walk around the park, or just sit down to talk.” Jax says as he turns towards Grace.

“I love the idea.” She smiles at him, making Jax’s chest ache as feelings rushed over him. 

He helped her off of his bike and led her to one of the coffee shops nearby the park. Jax ordered for both of them, he drank his coffee dark with lots of sugar, then they walked back into the park and sat down on a bench. 

“So, tell me. Do you do anything else besides singing?” Jax asks her, then takes a sip of his coffee. 

“I do many things. I love to be creative. I actually write the songs I sing, and besides that I love to draw, paint, cook and bake.” She shrugs “You know, just do something creative.”

Jax never met with anyone like her before. He never met with artists like Grace, and never knew anyone who liked to do such stuff. And Jax himself wasn’t artistic either, but he had great respect and admiration towards people who were.

“So, are you gonna tell me what happened?” Grace asked him.

Jax clenched his jaw and looked down to the warm coffee in his hands.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Grace. You deserve it.” 

Jax swallowed hard before he talked again.

“I, uhh. I have a motorcycle club. I am the President.”

“This still doesn’t explain the wound.” Grace said softly. 

Jax nodded, agreeing with her. “We don’t have a legitimate business. We’re trying to leave this behind and go legitimate. But shit goes down sometimes with other MCs and we have enemies.”

Grace was silent for a very long time after Jax told him about the Sons of Anarchy, and this made Jax really worried. 

“Grace, I understand if this scares you, and this world isn’t for you.” Jax licked his lips.

“Jax“ Grace sighed. “I live in Charming. Everyone in this town knows who you are, so I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to come on a date with you.”

Jax almost forgot about this.

“I really like you, Grace, and I don’t want to lose you. However, if you decide you don’t want to see me ever again, I will accept it.” Jax said.

Jax’s confession about both what he’s doing and that he really likes her surprised Grace, and suddenly she didn’t know what to say. 

“I really like you too, Jax.” Grace whispered so softly Jax thought he imagined it. “I just need time to adjust to this. If that’s okay.”

Jax nodded “Anything you want.” and he brushed his fingers over her cheeks, making Grace bite her bottom lip.

The way how Grace was looking at him, Jax knew he’s already deeply in love.

They were talking for hours in the park until it started getting dark and colder, and Jax saw that Grace was freezing so he took her home.

They were standing on the front porch of her house, saying goodbye.

“I really enjoyed today, thank you.” Grace said, her cheeks are crimson coloured again.

“I’m glad to hear that. I enjoyed it too.” Jax replied, and he took a step closer to her, cupping her cheek in one hand.

Grace gasped from feeling Jax’s rough hand on her soft cheek.

“May I kiss you, Grace?” Jax asked his Siren. 

Grace gasped again from his question, and blushed even more. 

“Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but Jax heard it clearly and her answer made him smile.

He looked deeply into her eyes before leaned closer to her.

Jax saw her lick her lips and he couldn’t wait any longer, he crossed the distance between them and pressed his lips against her soft ones. He felt her gasp a little, but a few seconds later she melted against him, placing her small hands on his chest as he kissed her, slowly. 

Grace moaned into the kiss and Jax took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, eager to do anything to make her moan again, because the sound drove Jax absolutely crazy.

And she did, she moaned again as Jax brushed his tongue against her, massaging her velvet tongue with his. 

Jax didn’t want to pull away from her and stop kissing her, but his lungs were screaming for air so he had to pull away. And he was so satisfied when he did, because the look on Grace's face was worth everything. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were full, and her eyes were dreamy and were shining like a thousand stars in the night sky. 

This perfect moment was interrupted by the hungry grumble of Jax’s stomach, making Grace laugh.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Jax says with a shake of his head. 

“It’s okay.” Grace smiles at her “Do you want to come in? I have some leftovers from my lunch, and I can hear them calling your name.” 

“If that’s not a problem.” Jax says, uncertain.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” Grace assures him as she opens the front door of her house, inviting Jax in.

“I hope you like veggie lasagna. I don’t eat meat, but I promise this lasagna is worth it.” She explains as she goes further into the house, and takes her shoes off.

“Please, take your shoes off.” She asks Jax, and he obligates, stopping behind her and taking his shoes off.

“I made the pasta for it myself, and the vegetables are from my garden. I even made the tomato sauce myself.” Grace explained excitedly as she led the Biker into her kitchen. 

Jax was listening to her talk while he tried to see as much from her house as he could, and he couldn’t help but smile. Not only because it was so heartwarming to see Grace this excited about something she made, but also because her house was so warm and homey, and full of art. 

Her kitchen was big, and Jax could tell that she was using it a lot. 

“Take a seat.” Grace said as she walked to the fridge, taking the lasagna out.

“I always cook a lot more for some reason, so I usually eat the same food for like a day and a half.” She explains and she puts the food on plates. 

“It looks really good.” Jax smiles at her, and Grace looked up from the plates with a big smile.

“Wait until you taste it.” Is all what she said as she put his plate first into the microwave.

“Grace.” Jax called her name “Come here, please.”

Jax wanted nothing else but kiss her right now, wanting to feel her lips against his.

Grace slowly walked to where Jax was sitting, she was eyeing him as she walked in front of him, and stopped. 

“Closer.” Jax whispered, and Grace took a step closer to him until she was standing between his legs. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met with. Not just on the outside, but inside too.” Jax spoke softly, and his words turned Grace’s cheeks pink. 

“You barely know me yet.” Jax shook his head at her reply.

“I don’t have to know you for long to know this.”

Grace looked down between them, and the look on her face made Jax worried.

“Did I say something wrong?” 

Grace shook her head as she took a deep breath to calm herself down, but Jax could see tears in her eyes. 

“It’s just…” it was Grace’s turn to make a confession. 

“You’re so different. You’re so confident and I’m...I’m not.” She was avoiding eye contact with Jax, but even as she was looking down to the floor, he could see her face. 

“I don’t know what you see in me. I’m shy, and don't really have experience in relationships or in bed, and the one I have is a bad memory.” Grace took a deep breath. “I bet you’re used to different women, with more experience, and I’m worried now that you know how inexperienced I am, you don’t want me anymore.”

Grace really thought after her confession, Jax will get up and leave and her tears started to fall, but when she felt Jax’s hand on his cheeks, wiping her tears, she looked at him.

“Do you really think that I’d leave you just because you dated with some asshole before?” Jax asked.

“How do you know he was an asshole?” Grace asked, confused.

“You said it’s a bad memory, so I had a good guess.” He wipes his thumb across her cheeks “But Grace, darling, believe me when I tell you that I don’t care how experienced you are. You could have been with 0 or 100 people, I still want to be with you, because you are you. And when you decide you want to share your bed with me, I’ll make sure to show you how amazing sex can be.” Grace looked down to the floor again from his words, and Jax could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she blushed. 

“And I promise you that I won’t pressure you. We will wait as long as you want, until you feel ready.” 

Jax’s words were interrupted by the sound of a microwave, making both of them jump a little. 

Before leaving Jax, Grace pressed her lips against his, surprising Jax for a second before he kissed her back. 

The food was indeed amazing, Jax swore he never ate anything this food before, although he wouldn’t say this in front of his mother.

After they ate, Grace showed him around his house, and it was full of art, but not any kind of art, it was all Grace’s. The paintings and drawings on the walls were all her work, and although Jax wasn’t big into art, he knew that Grace was really talented in anything she did. 

Jax stayed for hours as they talked, and shared so many things about each other, gaining each other’s complete thrusts.

Tag list: @innerpaperexpertcloud @lady-evans @agirllovespasta @oldstuffnewstuff @claudiahxrdy @keithseabrook27 @alexa-rae-dreamz @minnicelli @woahitslucyylu @de-profundis-ad-astra @mylifeliterally @happyhenners @rebel-without-cause-x

[supercasey]

TF2 RED Headcanons by an idiot that can’t pay attention well enough to read the comics

Back on my bullshit, because I apparently can’t shut up tonight. This is gonna be a big, possibly in-cohesive mess, and will probably have more focus on Scout, Pyro, Sniper, and Spy since they’re my favs, but I still felt like writing down all my dumb headcanons/ideas regarding everyone’s favorite mercenaries (at the moment at least; I might make another post like this later on, hopefully after I’ve read the comics)! Sorry if any of these seem OOC, I’m just goofin’! (Putting this under a readmore because WOW this got LONG)

Every Sunday afternoon, Scout, Pyro, and eventually Sniper when he tells everyone that he's a trans guy, hold a makeshift “Trans Buddy Club” meeting, which mostly consists of Scout mindlessly rambling about drama on base, Pyro nodding along, and Sniper occasionally adding his two cents/spilling tea as well.

Scout can speak fluent French, on account of his mom making sure to teach it to him so he could have more of a connection to his dad, but no one found out until a little after Spy told Scout he was his dad. It wasn’t long after this that Scout revealed that this entire time, he’s known every single thing that Spy's ever said to him in French, but he didn't say anything because he thought it would be funny to keep the ruse going (also because he really liked being praised in secret). Cue Spy freaking tf out because oh no, now his kid knows that he's secretly a huge softie for not only his son, but his whole team.

Sometimes Spy and Scout talk shit in French right there in front of the team, but no one has any fucking idea what they’re saying and to be honest it’s pissing Soldier off the most, much to the father and son duo’s amusement.

Pyro secretly has a little black rabbit named Lucifer (Lucy for short) in their bedroom, which they only take out to get some fresh air and hop around very early in the morning, before anyone else is awake. The only people who know are Medic, Spy, and surprisingly enough Soldier, whose raccoons became friends with Lucy.

Sniper has a goldfish in his RV, but it died three months after he joined the team; he has no idea though because Miss Pauling replaces it every time one passes away, so now Sniper is convinced he has the world’s oldest goldfish.

Scout and Soldier both really want a dog, but they're not allowed to have one on-base. :(

((Heavy plans on sneaking a dog in next Christmas and no one can stop him. It’s gonna be a Border Collie named Bandit, and it gets the most attached to Scout and Heavy.))

Demo is no longer allowed to make mixed drinks for parties; the last time he did, he got everyone so shitfaced that they had to cancel work for three days in a row in order to recover from it.

Continuing off of that: drunk headcanons.

Demoman: Unassuming drunk. Acts like he usually does, unless he’s gotten particularly shitfaced for a party/event, in which case he’ll be slurring so bad that no one can understand him anymore.

Pyro: Giggly drunk. Is just laughing the whole fucking night at nothing in particular, which scares anyone who’s still sober. If they’re too far gone, they’ll start mumbling something that sounds like it’s in Spanish.

Spy: Party drunk. An absolute fucking mess, he’s trying to impress everyone and keep their attention on him, which usually leads to him standing on tables and dancing until he falls and passes out.

Sniper: Sleepy drunk. Out like a fucking light at the slighest bit of alcohol. If he wakes up and keeps drinking though, he’ll just be slurring like Demo, only with a lot more anger in his voice. Let him sleep, or he’ll fucking stab you to death.

Scout: Clumsy drunk. Bumps into anything and everything; eventually has to be given a sippy cup for his alcohol because he dropped three glasses in a row. Talks even faster than usual, until he accidentally fucking pukes on someone.

Soldier: Calm drunk. Instead of getting loud and aggressive like most would think/fear, he’s just… chillin'. Just watches the shitshow as it happens, not even laughing when people get hurt/fall down. Kinda terrifying if we’re being honest here.

Engineer: Depressed drunk. His depression goes through the roof if he has too much, so he doesn't drink more than a few beers if he can help it. If he does accidentally drink too much, he'll be sobbing his eyes out in no time flat.

Heavy: Cuddly drunk. It’s very, very hard to get him drunk, since he’s really good at holding his liquor, but if you do, he’s gonna be hugging and carrying everyone he can get his hands on; you can expect him to have Medic and/or Pyro on his lap once he’s drunk enough.

Medic: Angry drunk. He wants to start fights with fucking everyone, all his rage coming out once he’s had a few too many; god help anyone who tries to stop him. Luckily for all involved, Heavy is more than capable of holding him still until he tires himself out.

BONUS Miss Pauling: Dumbass drunk. With too many bottles in her, she’s gonna be the one shouting and encouraging Spy to act reckless, while also encouraging Engie to drink more because quitting is for losers. Will pass out within an hour or so of downing her first drink.

BONUS The Administrator: Stereotypical drunk. Slurring, stumbling, she’s got the whole nine yards, but she’ll be damned before she let’s anyone see her that messed up. Secretly sips wine at work.

Okay, back to my rambling.

My personal headcanon names and ages for Scout’s older brothers, going from oldest to youngest: Grant 34, Timothy 32, Jacob 31, Arthur 31, Patrick 30, Malcolm 27, Curtis 26, and Jeremy (Scout) 23.

((Also, I’mma go off on my headcanon personalities for them, which are based off of how I’ve tried portraying them in my "Jeremy" fic.))

Grant - 34 years old - Bisexual - Occupation: Veteran/Construction worker - Personality: the oldest of the bunch, he takes it upon himself to keep his little brothers in line/help Ma out as much as he can. Enlisted in the Air Force after he graduated high school, and still takes a lot of pride in his veteran status after serving overseas three separate times. The family peacemaker.

Timothy - 32 years old - Homosexual - Occuptaion: Cartoonist - Personality: the gentlest of his brothers, he often gets roped into helping Grant keep the pack from running too wild. Bit of a softie; loves his husband and loves his job. Closest relationship is with Scout. Doesn’t approve of Scout being a merc but is too scared to say so. The family heart.

Jacob - 31 years old - Heterosexual - Occupation: Freelance guitarist - Personality: the firstborn of the only set of twins, Jacob is a lot more abrasive and instigating than his twin brother. Can’t grow a beard for shit, which pisses him off. Doesn’t get along well with Timmy, despite them both being talented and devoted artists. The family sword.

Arthur - 31 years old - Pansexual - Occupation: Carpenter - Personality: the second born of the only set of twins, Arthur is far more outgoing and nonchalant than his twin brother. Has a beard and loves it more than life. Secretly has a boyfriend, but is too nervous to come out. Gets along better with Jacob after they’ve become adults. The family shield.

Patrick - 30 years old - Heterosexual - Occupation: Hairdresser - Personality: probably the least social of all of the brothers, he prefers staying out of sight and out of mind tbh. Used to practice cutting everyone’s hair when they were kids. Doesn’t talk to his brothers that much, mostly due to being busy/forgetting to call more. The family shadow.

Malcolm - 27 years old - Heteromantic Asexual - Occupation: Wrestler - Personality: the most aggressive and physically competitive of his brothers, there’s nothing he won’t do to win a fight, save for using weapons/lethal force. Hard to get along with, but he still loves his brothers to bits, and was overprotective of Scout when they were younger. The family instigator.

Curtis - 26 years old - Heterosexual - Occupation: Bartender - Personality: was a total fucking mama’s boy growing up, and constantly got in trouble with his brothers for tattling on them. Still argues with Scout every time they see each other. Wants to make Ma proud, but it’s hard for him to keep a job for very long. The family drifter.

Jeremy - 23 years old - Transmale Pansexual - Occupation: Mercenary - Personality: (This is mostly for how he was as a kid) was constantly following his brothers around (especially Malcolm) in hopes of getting in on the fun. Was always treated as the family baby, so everyone was a bit scared to wrestle/fight with him for fear of getting him hurt. Very close to Timmy and Ma. The family runt.

No one on RED team can fucking drive well, save for MAYBE Sniper, but even he hates doing it. Spy gets so goddamn mad within two seconds of driving, Pyro can't stop swerving, Scout drives like a 16 year old who hasn't realized their own mortality yet, Medic jumps at every little inconsistency on the road, Heavy shouts at other drivers for being too slow/fast, Demo's depth perception is shit, Engie drives like a 90 year old grandmother, and Soldier is fine except he will literally shoot at other drivers for tailgating him/cutting him off.

The whole team has designated “Team Bonding Days” thanks to Miss Pauling, which involves playing board games, card games, and video games (in a slightly more modernized AU) together… this, of course, goes badly sometimes. The worst incident they ever had was a bad game of Monopoly that almost ended Heavy and Medic's friendship.

Uno is forever banned from Team Bonding Days. No explanation is needed.

Off the battlefield and in the base, Miss Pauling had the team set up a chore wheel, which is only occasionally followed. Engie is the most dedicated to following it, while Demo and Sniper try everything in their power to avoid cleaning the base.

Spy sometimes disguises himself as other teammates in order to get out of doing his chores, which has led to a lot of shouting matches that ended in Spy being forced to admit it was his fault.

Spy's favorite teammates to disguise himself as are Engie and Scout. He likes being Engie because he gets to be more affectionate with people without being found out, and he can act as Scout incredibly easily due to knowing him so well (tbh he's so good at masquerading as Scout that it's scary).

For Halloween, everyone put their names in Soldier's hat, then proceeded to pull out other teammates’ names to dress up as for their Halloween party. I dunno exactly who would be who, except that Scout traded around to get Spy, steals one of Spy's suits, and just goes around the party bonking people with a plastic baguette he bought online and speaking in a purposefully bad accent.

Spy: Mon fils, you can speak perfect French and you fucking know it. Please stop making a fool of ton père.

Scout: Hohoho, wee wee, I am a fucking frog that gets pegged by baguettes, hoho!

((Spy is this fucking close to committing filicide.))

Everyone can actually cook pretty well, but only very specific things for each merc: Demo can mix and blend drinks (not just alcoholic ones) like it's nothing, Pyro and Heavy like baking, Medic can barbecue anything, Scout knows how to make a lot of shit from scratch (thanks, Ma), Spy and Engie can grill like the true dads they are, Soldier will deep fry every piece of food he eats, and Sniper makes the best soups and stews imaginable.

In order of least to most messy bedrooms: Spy, Heavy, Engie, Sniper, Pyro, Demoman, Medic, Scout, and Soldier. You'd think Scout's would be the worst, but Soldier's room looks like a literal fucking war-zone.

Even when they're not working but get injured in some way (namely from shenanigans/horseplay), people will straight up kill themselves in order to respawn without the injury. The pettiest thing anyone ever respawned off-duty for was Medic suiciding over a tiny ass paper cut.

Demoman is scarily competent at the weirdest of times. For instance, Engie was once trying to figure out how to fix an issue on one of his turrets, only for Demo to stumble over, completely shitfaced, and point out the problem as well as the solution, before passing out under Engie's worktable. Demo doesn't remember this at all.

The first time Engie swore in front of the team in excess (due to dropping a hammer on his foot while he was tinkering), everyone was absolutely horrified because they had only ever heard him say “fiddlesticks” and the like.

Medic's room may not be the messiest, but goddamn is his office a fucking bomb waiting to go off 90% of the time. No one but Medic can find anything in the mess, which is just fine by him.

Heavy likes to sing (mostly just to Sasha) when he's cleaning her in the locker room. The others try to be within hearing range when he does this, because holy fuck, Heavy is a very good singer! He mostly just sings soft songs/lullabies, so his singing is sometimes used by the team insomniacs to help them get some much needed rest.

Okay, another group one. The mercs during shopping trips together:

Demoman: Sneaks a shit ton of alcohol into the cart when no one's looking. Starts complaining if he has to be at the store for too long; will try and sneak away to go home at least once during the trip. Accidentally bumps into a display case and makes a huge fucking mess.

Pyro: Sits obediently in the cart the whole time, occasionally nabbing candy and stuffed animals off of nearby shelves. Will puppy-dog eyes their way into getting everything they grabbed, no matter how much it is.

Spy: Somehow managed to steal an employee uniform and he pretends to work at the store the whole trip; the other mercs keep accidentally falling for it and asking for his help. This all goes to shit when a Karen starts shouting at him over something he didn't do, and he straight up slaps her.

Sniper: King of forgetting wtf was on the list and just grabs shit on the grounds of “Doc said we needed milk, right?” and other such excuses. Knows where everything is despite never having come here before.

Scout: “Gimme the list, I can get everythin' in, like, ten minutes!” Wants to speedrun grocery shopping due to years of shopping with his mom and brothers. Will run loose if left unsupervised and accidentally bust ass on some spilled milk.

Soldier: The one who spilled the milk that Scout busts his ass on. Insists he knows where he's going, but doesn't. Gets into a fistfight with a soccer mom while everyone's waiting to check out; the soccer mom won.

Engineer: Has a full, printed list of everything the team needs, which is organized by aisle number. Is the one who gives into Pyro's begging. Team Dad; keeps an eye on everyone and stops the soccer mom from murdering Soldier.

Heavy: Pushes the cart the entire time. Spends way too money on stuff in the protein shake aisle. At one point runs the cart down the aisle and let's go because Pyro wanted him to, and it ends up crashing into Demo.

Medic: Argues with the pharmacists at the pharmacy counter. Got lost with Soldier until they found Scout unconscious, so he had to perform CPR in the dairy aisle and a fucking paramedic criticized him the whole time; the paramedic hasn't been seen since.

BONUS Miss Pauling: Tries to more or less chaperone this shitshow of a shopping trip. Starts out cheerful and happy, ends up threatening to put child leashes on every last one of these dumbasses.

After Spy taught him how to dance in Expiration Date, Scout goes to him occasionally for advice, such as how to change a tire, how to cook certain things, how tf to do laundry, etc. Spy secretly loves that Scout does this, and tries to help him as much as he can.

Everyone on the team has called Engie “Dad” at least once, even Spy and Medic. No one comments on it.

Medic has been known to go on hour long tirades about anti-vaxxers, with Engie sometimes joining in.

Heavy buys Pyro stuffed animals during his trips to visit his family, which has started a tradition of everyone buying Pyro stuffed animals/toys when they go somewhere without them. Pyro's room is starting to look like a preschooler’s dream bedroom.

Scout calls his mom every other Friday, and he’ll occasionally let his teammates talk to her. Soldier always goes on and on about how good a soldier Scout has been (Scout cries like a baby), Medic tells her about Scout’s latest injuries (Scout damn near chokes him over it), Sniper is just glad to talk to a mom who won’t scold him for the whole phone call, Pyro hums music while Scout’s Ma sings the lyrics for them, Heavy talks about living in huge families with her, Demo asks her how she’s doing and if he can help her out at all, Engie is polite and also praises Scout, and Spy just tells her he’ll call her later before hanging up (Scout punches him for being rude to his mama).

Spy calls Scout's mom on the Fridays that Scout doesn't, mostly to check on her and sometimes to get into some, uh, “steamy” conversations over the phone. Sniper overheard a conversation between them once and now he can't look Scout or Spy in the eyes anymore.

And that's all I've got for right now! I hope you all liked my stupid headcanons!

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep 32 S4: Most Disturbing Kid’s Show Award Goes to This Episode

I often talk about how wonderfully effed up Yugioh is. What a freakin delight, how effed up this kid’s show is, somehow still remaining a Y7 kid’s show, despite everything it tries to do to get pulled off the air.

Y’all this was a filler season and it didn’t even have Bakura in it so...why did it go so edge? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for how many levels of “OK THERE, KID’S SHOW” it was.

But what the hell was that, Yugioh?

Anyway we start off completely normal in this foggy ass graveyard--Halloweens in this season so I’m down for this. Halloween is also...cancelled...this year, so at least I can celebrate it somewhat in a Yugioh episode. Then again, can you imagine how many people would be dressed up as sexy Covid?

So I don’t really talk about the card game mechanics on here, and (full disclosure to any new people) I don’t know how to play this game. But, considering that this card doesn’t usually send you to distant graveyard memories IRL, lets get into it.

We’ve clarified before that Card Graveyard is a place--like an actual place--but that it isn’t the same place that the cards vibe in within the Puzzle necklace. It’s a separate place, but ALSO not the same place as the Shadow Realm, either. Card Graveyard is just...some other third place we never talk about.

TBQH I think the people who make this show have kinda forgotten how many random pocket dimensions we’ve made that are basically the equivalent of hell (including California, PS), and are just like “no one will write a blog about it and list them all in one place, we’ll be fine.”

We’ve only seen Tristan bum out here once in like S1 and he spent most of his time running away from the Grim Reaper. But, if you remember correctly, the Grim Reaper is currently hanging out and living his best life haunting some park in Japan, so now instead of the Grim Reaper it has...this?

So is this a memory stored within the card graveyard, or did Dartz literally take Raphael to the card graveyard and tell him this was a real ass graveyard?

We’ll never know! It gets very vague from here on out!

(read more under the cut)

First off, I’d like to welcome our new guest star--the Rain--there’s a lot of rain in this episode, and we animate it by just making all of our characters glow. This comes through fine in animation, but in caps I just want you to know that no one has gone super Saiyan, they’re just...wet.

PS get a gander at Raphael’s baby boy mutton chop mustache. They somehow got longer with time? And also, when soaked his hair is just as spiky. Everyone on this show has unparalleled hair gel. The real heart of the cards.

Anyway, Dartz shows Raphael a bunch of gravestones and is like “Get it???”

and me, the audience, was like “no???”

The headstones, by the by, aren’t...normal, either, they have Orichalcos symbols on them instead of words. So like...it sort of infers that his family was taken by Orichalcos, too. I mentioned before that it sorta feels like Dartz caused the whole shipwreck to munch up a bunch of yummy souls, and maybe he did in the Japanese version--cuz like...

...why else do all these headstones have Orichalcos symbols on this graveyard that you can only access through a card god like Dartz or Yami?

Just throwing that deep lore out there, and the fact that Raphael can’t really see it or understand is either because that didn’t happen or...Dartz totally killed his family, right? And that makes this relationship between the two of them extremely effed up?

This is a great show for kids with separation anxiety.

Which is...somewhat convincing of a motive for Raphael. He gives Raphael a way to move on from his trauma in the past, and it’s not a GREAT way to move on--but it’s falls in line with things Dartz has done with his other card generals by offering false redemption.

Like Mai needed to move on from her insane jealousy, so Orichalcos was her way to prove she was better than Joey Wheeler (which, honestly, no one needed proof of). Alister needed to move on from his dead brother, so Orichalcos was his way to get revenge. Valon also had a backstory but a bunch of it got deleted in the English version apparently so...

And Rex and Weevil needed...cards? I guess? I think they just needed a ride, mostly. And Orichalcos can give you a ride. It’s not like we had Uber in 2003 and clearly they were not fit for Caltrain.

And like Gurimo.............existed...?

Anyways, they’re looking for justice that they can see. Justice for their pain. To make that pain worth something for more than just suffering. A system where this type of thing can’t happen anymore. But the thing about justice is that...eh...it’s probably not done through cards that kill people.

OH OK, KID’S SHOW.

Mmmmm take in that burying up your grave imagery. Again, this show is rated Y7 for 7 year olds, and I think that’s amazing.

Anyway, this is symbolism that is so heavy handed that it really needs no explanation, so he’s just gonna dig dig dig for...days I guess? Relive his trauma over and over again? Dig up that past like you’re a popular artist on twitter and you gotta make all of your followers relive that time you got called out because you offended a hell ton of people?

(Which is so many people on art twitter right now, ps, you don’t even know which one I’m talking about because It’s SO MANY of them. Art twitter during Quarantine is like watching the fall of Rome but it’s freakin Art Twitter. Everyone’s the freakin worst and just poopin all over themselves as they roll all the way down the steps.)

But I want to know. Who’s grave this is? It has a slightly different meaning if it were his family’s or his own. I guess I’ll have to save it for the fanfiction.

And so to add another level of spook, Raphael’s card mom shows up and kinda just stands there with a sad face?

Raphael’s reaction to seeing his card just alive and hanging out was “I’ll get to you in a sec, I gotta do some unforgivable evil, first.“

WHERE DID THEY GO?

These two shots are like nearly back to back. They’re just GONE. No explanation.

And yes I’m gonna talk about the outfit because it makes no freakin sense, even for a Yugioh card. Granted, this was a show made in Japan, for kids, with a budget that had a limit. A lot of people get involved with these productions, many aren’t artists or historians versed in American History, just basic ass business people. That be TV.

But her outfit looks waaay too modern. Like she’s gonna go to a musical festival, drop acid and climb on top of a statue and take a bunch of instagram selfies and regret all of them 4 years later. If these are Atlantean cards, this is not an Atlantis outfit to match with Dartz, who has been dressed vaguely medieval. So whyyyyy would this girl be dressed more like a vague old western costume bought at a discount so she could vogue in front of installation art at Burning Man in 2008?

Anyway, I won’t even get into the bird that is slowly devouring her face as a stand in for a headdress or wtv. Just a lot of stuff happening here and I just wanna say, Yugioh did it so you won’t need to. Just delete that desire. Yugioh already did it so you are now free from wanting to draw...anything like this problematic situation on your own OCs.

And then Yugioh predicts exactly how I’d feel about this outfit.

And she then lights ON FIRE and falls dead into the grave he just buried for her.

And in case you were like “kinda on the nose there, Yugioh, that got DARK” she climbs out of his own grave with a spooky ass face and no more coconuts to share with her bros and he’s like...

Rapheal’s reaction was like...Ya OK I can get used to this, and Yami is just pointing at the scene desperately trying to follow Raphael’s brain waves.

And like, this is YAMI.

Yami just walked through Yugi Hell earlier today. He’s seen some stuff. He’s already undug his own grave this morning in a more poetic card sort of way. But Raphael’s memories of literally digging up his family’s graves with his bare hands because Dartz told him to was...stuff he didn’t want to see today. (especially since it’s super suggested Dartz was the one who...murdered them in the first place, like I know it’s a reach but...it just feels like we were supposed to reach that conclusion)

But whether or not Dartz put the bodies here or gave Raphael a bunch of phoney graves, Raphael is still essentially siding with the guy who ruined the only thing he has left of his family--this paper card mom--and turned it into an undead evil Mom. And it just had...no freakin impact on Raphael at all.

Like what?

He just murdered your card mom. This is fine?

Card shenanigans continue and Raphael eventually realizes what he should have realized like 10 years ago when he was digging up graves and killing card Mom’s. That maybe it’s a bad idea. So Raphael decides to sacrifice his remaining monsters to “free” them from the graveyard and basically commits suicide. There’s no other way to say it, really. He kills himself.

But wait, right when you figure this episode will end like every other Orichalcos fight before it...They decide not to.

Like an angel from heaven, our drunk ass looking music concert reject descends from the clouds, along with all of Raphael's dead family members!

Yeah.

I REALLY didn’t expect them to show up. This was so much content it’s like...an entire season of any other TV show. I say that a lot with Yugioh but these episodes really like to just jam-pack it in there.

And here I thought I’d actually have to take them off the Death Count one day. Here I thought 4 kids would do something to like...prevent this many dead kids, but I was wrong.

Everyone’s HELLA DEAD.

it’s both vindicating to actually say that, despite 4kids, these kids absolutely died, but also disturbing because even Raphael is like “ah, the hallucinations today are really swell, right?”

NO, GHOST CHILD.

DON’T TELL ME THAT.

And I’ve been over before how “heart of the cards” is a catch-all phrase that can mean literally anything in this show, and it’s not the first time that cards have kept someone’s spirit around. No word on his family members if they are thrilled to be trapped in a Pharaoh situation, or whether they only occasionally drop from the heavens, or whether they have actually been the spirit that was within each of these cards the whole time. I don’t know.

And so the card family “cures” one of the most evil people on this show.

He’s fine now. This guy murdered the hell out of Yugi, our main character, but don’t think nor worry about it. This isn’t the show to worry about such things.

This show has Marik.

Bro and I were talking Star Wars the other day, and mostly about the Kylo Ren arc and how a lot of people happened to dislike that particular ending. Mostly about how there is a difference between your character being redeemed and being forgiven. I think this children’s show wants to redeem Raphael, but honestly, much like Kylo Ren--he’s just forgiven. And that’s fine. You don’t need to have your characters redeemed. We can stop at forgiveness.

And also, Yami forgives him immediately because he knows he can’t throw a single damn stone, his house is made out of 2 mm of extremely problematic glass.

Man, RIP Weevil, right?

Weevil who just pretended to rip up a card that could have been Yugi and got tossed off the freakin Caltrain? Raphael got off so freakin lucky and I am boggled he’s still alive. He freakin killed Yugi!

The injustice to Weevil right now, omg. Not like I enjoy Weevil. I super don’t enjoy that character. But DAMN. Yami murdered Weevil for even mentioning Yugi. Just feels like there’s a bit of a hypocritical line here in how the justice is dished out and...that tracks for a Pharaoh so I’ll just let it go.

And also, looking at that sunshine and I’m pretty sure they’ve been up over 48 straight hours. No one’s slept since Yugi died, right? I mean Yami is fine. We know from Bakura that puzzle people don’t need to sleep, or eat, or have blood in their body. But like Seto really needs to get Mokuba to bed.

(Although I am 85% positive that Mokuba is still part Noah Kaiba so it is...also unlikely that kid sleeps anymore, just leaving Mokuba’s future therapist so much to unpack.)

The GALL of this show right now.

Of all the generals--they saved RAPHAEL? Arguably the worst one?

I would take even Alister. I would take even Weevil.

Raphael?

I mean if he ends up as the next Duke Devlin, just driving us around for the final season of this show I guess I’ll accept this but, damn.

Raphael?

Are you sure, Yugioh???????????????????????????????????

Can’t we just let that guy die? He’s basically dead already, Yugioh. This guy does NOT want to be alive anymore. Literally everyone he cares about is super dead and now he doesn’t even have Card mom because she sacrificed herself to save his soul. This GUY.

I can’t believe Mai is dead but we still have Raphael.

The same disappointment when I watch British Bake off, man, they just...sometimes they save people and I’m like...no man...that one can’t bake. Just because they pulled something off last second does not mean they get to the semifinals. Raphael can’t bake.

Anyway, the episode attempts to end on a cliffhanger but like.

Just want to reiterate how common and boring Earthquakes usually are to a Californian. This was the most normal thing in this episode.

Man.

Freakin Raphael.

Anyway, if you just got here and is like “I don’t know who the hell Raphael even is,” Yeah, I know, I didn’t think twice about the dude until like just now, but if it’s because you’ve never seen my recaps before, I’ll direct you to the link to read these in Chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

Anyway, stay safe and have a very happy and safe Halloween alone eating your own carmel dipped apple slices.

[gayenerd]

The Band You Love To Hate By Tom Lanham of RIP  (There’s no date on this but I would say 1995 or 1996?)

Eyes wide as a barn owl's. Spines stiff with anticipation, like a hungry scorpion. The two teenage girls sit stock-still in their booth at a posh Berkeley diner, practically bursting with excitement, but without the faintest clue how to handles it. Clueless, you might call them. A few feet across the linoleum aisle--with his back to them, oblivious to all the oh-my-gawd facial expressions--sits the object of their adulation, dressed in unassuming black jeans, black T-shirt, shredded black Converse, and a beat-up black baseball jacket. But even with his once-green dreadlocks tamed to a short black business cut, Billie Joe Armstrong--yes, the snaggle-toothed MTV ragamuffin from megaplatinum neo-punkers, Green Day--is as easy to spot as Michael Bolton at a Rogaine convention. Although the kids want to leap up from their seats and race over for an autograph or a jittery hello, they don't dare. Instead, they're forced to deal with their seething emotions as if they were eating post-tonsillectomy ice cream: a lot of numb gulping and a quick pain chaser. This is the blessing of being Billie Joe Armstrong. Alas, it's also his curse. By the time you read this, the irascible little rocker will have turned 24. And exactly two years ago, he and his wacky bandmates--drummer Tré Cool and bassist Mike Dirnt--lolled around the trashy basement flat they shared, getting stoned and sneering at the idea that Dookie--their just-released "sellout" on big-time Reprise--would ever amount to more than a nice drink coaster. Fame? They were more preoccupied with their bong collection, stacks of rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards, and a thriving sea monkey tank displayed prominently on a window-sill. Most of their furniture had springs poking through--they didn't care. Armstrong regularly picked boogers from his gold-ringed nostril and then flick them onto the scary shag carpet--what did he have to worry about? Too bad he couldn't have foreseen the all-too-near future. Green Day happened to be in the right place at the right time. The three-chord slam-a-rama Dookie--a pop-edged return to decade-old punk ethics--became the surprise hit of '94, going on to sell over 11 million copies. Armstrong, accustomed to frenetic club performances, began translating the group's infectious energy to larger and larger venues. Demand continued to grow at a staggering pace; Green Day fought back. They turned a satellite MTV Video Awards performance into a "spit-cam" fest by urging the crowd to gob any camera lens it could ("[The cameramen] tried to make it look like it was cool, but it wasn't"). Last October, Armstrong and company issued their 32-minute follow up, Insomniac, almost as an afterthought, with little promotion, a visually offensive video (for "Geek Stink Breath") and--at least initially--a strict no-interview policy. Simultaneously, they ditched their high-powered Cahn-Man management team and are now virtually managing themselves. Along the way, Armstrong married his long-time sweetheart Adrienne and last March fathered a son, Joey. In typical down-to-earth fashion, the couple spent their honeymoon a few blocks from home at Berkeley's prestigious Claremont Hotel, not on some exotic island. Beginning to see the problem here? How does a street-smart kid from humble beginnings skyrocket to world-class notoriety and yet--with his music in millions of homes and his privacy suddenly a right that needs defending--still adhere to the simple ideals, the simple lifestyle that spawned him? Is "successful punk" an oxymoron? Insomniac provided few clues--it was more of the same slacker-ennui sentiment, more defeated, disenfranchised grousing set to speedy, memorable hooks. Or, as Armstrong barks in the aptly-dubbed "Walking Contradiction," "My wallet's fat and so is my head...I'm a victim of a Catch-22." And that, in essence, was the topic this tortured artist wanted to discuss at the diner. The old "be careful what you wish for" adage. The classic "problem with success is finding someone to enjoy it with you" truism. Armstrong, who takes occasional sips from a vanilla milkshake, but mostly stares morosely at the floor, seems to be dealing with superstardom in a relatively normal way. Don't be fooled by the steady stream of negative vitriol that follows; he's analyzing it, breaking it down, figuring out ways to disconnect his kinetic career. Or at least turn down the volume for awhile. 

RIP: We know what's going right. But what's going wrong? 

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG: Lots of things, really. Actually, when I came here today, I said I didn't wanna talk about anything good, because I don't really have anything good to talk about. Goin' on tour pretty soon--don't really wanna go. Just because I've been kinda torn. I wanna stick around at home. I don't like playing arenas, and I realized I didn't know what I was getting myself into on the last tour, but I went into it being positive and getting excited about it. But I didn't realize that I was the kind of person to whom it's too much of an event and not really a personal thing anymore. And I started to realize how much I liked being the background music to this scene at the club. And now it's.... I dunno. People expect so much. It's cool and stuff, and it can be a lot of fun, a really good experience. But when you play that many arenas.... The first time we ever played those big kinds of shows at the Shoreline (Amphitheater in Mountain View, California), there was weirdness--we were playing for a lot of f?!kin' people. And I hate to say it, but sometimes it just feels like another gig. We played every day, 50 gigs this last leg, and it just wears on ya. There's all these people, and they think "Alright. I paid my $15--you better impress the f?!kin' shit outta me right now!" And I realized that for Joey, the rock and roll touring life is not a good atmosphere for a kid. I tried to make it to where it would be, bringing lots of his toys out. But there are no familiar surroundings for him. And he likes all the attention--people come up and say hello to him every day, people who are on tour with us. But he doesn't have his own room or a home to go to every day. So, no more touring for Joey. 

RIP: Turned on Regis and Kathie Lee this morning to find their gossip columnist dishing dirt on Green Day. How Insomniac didn't do nearly as well as predicted, how it was a disappointment to the label. A failure, supposedly. 

BJA: Well, it's like, we didn't set up this record. We didn't. We didn't do any promotion beforehand, we completely quit doing interviews, and basically we just wanted to go on into it. We weren't even sure if we wanted to do a video. And then when we did a video, it got yanked from daytime rotation because people were getting grossed-out by it. So I think we did alienate a lot of people. So that was expected, that it wasn't going to sell a lot of records. 

RIP: NOFX have taken it one step further. They refuse to talk to press, make videos, pander potential singles to radio. They don't want to get any bigger. 

BJA: I dunno, maybe I'm just getting jaded or something. But I just got cable again and I can't stand anything. Six years ago you could hear something that was different and know that it was different. So it'd be "alternative" or whatever. But now it's like you get this Joan...Osborne? With the ring in her nose, waving the alternative rock flag, when she's just...not, ya know? And I'm thinking, I hate all this music that's coming out now--the past year was just hell for music. But people are buying it, so then I'm thinking, Maybe they're the ones that are good and I'm the one who sucks? I just don't know if I really wanna be involved in the rock world anymore at all. Period. I don't necessarily have anything against a big record company or people who what to join up with a big record company. It really is right for some people, but more and more, I don't think that I'm really meant to. And I hate to sound like that, because I don't like taking things for granted. I don't like to talk about my problems when there's some kid struggling in his garage somewhere saying "F?!k him! He's just taking it for granted. Shit, I wish I could do something like that, but I'm just stuck here in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I can't even get a gig." I'm so confused right now. 

RIP: It must be odd to know that, with all those millions of albums sold, drunken frat boys are probably staggering around to your music right now. Your audience grew far beyond your control. 

BJA: Oh, totally! We became what we hated. Which is, the people I despised in high school--and now--are buying our records. We initially became a trend, so there was no way I expected to sell as many records with Insomniac as with Dookie. That's one of the biggest-selling records of the decade. We get slagged by the punk rockers, and it's like, I don't blame them. If you draw that much attention to yourself, that's what you're gonna get--attention--and it's not personal anymore. 

RIP: Ever think about giving it all up? 

BJA: There isn't a day goes by in the past year and a half that I haven't thought about quitting. I went to this party on New Year's Eve, and this band Juke, and another band, the Tantrums, played in a friend of mine's backyard. And a lot of my old friends showed up, and everybody was just dancing. And I was dancing, and getting really muddy, and I was having a great time. I can't remember the last time I sat down and listened to a record from beginning to end and felt this incredible spine-chilling music. And it's because I haven't been able to go out and watch bands play at my free will. I'm not gonna live in a closet, I'm not gonna vegetate myself. 

RIP: But it has to be difficult, when tons of kids know your face. You're on your way to Michael Jackson-dom, where you have to wear a disguise in public. 

BJA: If you think about the Beatles, at that time all people had to go by were the photographs on the records and every now and then a television appearance. So when they'd come to town, people would just flip out--it became this huge public event every single time. Whereas now, everything is so saturated kids don't even have to leave their home to go to a show anymore. They can sit in the comfort of their living room, and your favorite rock star is gonna be entertaining you while you sit down and have your microwave burrito. 

RIP: The Milwaukee cops weren't pleased with aspects of Green Day's Milwaukee show last November. Why were you arrested? 

BJA: I dropped the pick and--actually, I even forgot about it--I just mooned the crowd, which is pretty harmless compared to what I've done before. And I wasn't even thinking about it--I just went out and started playing again. Then I went backstage and was hanging out with Adrienne, and this guy Jimmy who does security for us goes "Come on--there's a car waiting for you outside right now. You've gotta get out of here!" I said "What's wrong?" and he said he didn't even know. So we get in the car and all of a sudden about ten cops come walking over, fully surrounding the car. So the guy puts the cuffs on me, throws me in the car, and I get tossed in the holding tank for two, three hours. I wasn't in the bullpen--I was in with the other ones, the not-so-bad ones. They made me take all my jewelry out. And my shoestrings, so I wouldn't hang myself or something. I dunno. I just don't know how to fit into rock music anymore. I don't know what I like about it anymore. I don't like anything about it anymore, to tell you the truth. To tell you the real truth, I'm a pretty miserable person right now. I'm totally depressed, and my wife can vouch for that because she's around me. In fact, she's the only person who's really around me. I dunno, the whole thing with the mainstreaming of punk rock. I just feel lost in the whole thing...I don't really know...I don't wanna...I dunno...It's miserable, it really is. It's f?!ked up. 

RIP: For every original voice that comes along, there will be countless mad signing dashes for any and all sound-alike artists, with no thought given to the artist's longevity. Just throw the record out quickly and hope it sticks. 

BJA: The thing is, a lot of musicians have gotten so comfortable with this big so-called "Revolution in Rock Music" over the past decade. First it was like, "F?!k the corporations! F?!k the corporations!" And then people just sorta got cozy with that, and forgot that these bands are getting lost in the shuffle. And I'm talking about the ones that never get noticed at all and just get kinda bitter. The 15 minutes of fame is getting shorter and shorter. And now music is totally going backwards--the first half of this decade, there were a few things going on that were interesting. It wasn't my favorite kind of music, but it had a sensibility about it. If you think about Nirvana and Pearl Jam and that whole Seattle scene, and even the Offspring--there was this thing going on that was more honest, in a lot of ways. It wasn't like, beer, drugs and pussy, like what went on through the '80s with all the hair bands. But now what we've got is Hootie & the Blowfish.... 

RIP: Who are probably a lot like you. They seem like nice, regular guys who--through no real fault of their own--are suddenly assimilated into pop culture. 

BJA: Yeah, but that's the problem, is that they are nice regular guys. And they're totally comfortable with that, and they sort of put that out, to where they don't really have...I dunno, there's a certain amount of attitude that, say, someone like Cobain or Vedder has that they don't have. But it's becoming way not...real anymore or something. Maybe not real to me. It's just turning back into what it was in the '80s. It's like, "Hey, everyone! We're Huey Lewis and the News!" I dunno. Maybe nobody knows what the f?!k I'm talking about anymore. 

BJA: I get so irritated by people. I think I'm more bitter than I've ever been in my whole life, to tell you the honest truth. I think Insomniac is much more of a bitter record than Dookie. And I think the older people get, the more they kinda get angry. I think a lot of people feel like they get cheated by lief somehow--no-one is ever completely satisfied. There's maybe a few. But I mean, I'm in a place where I don't really wanna be. It's like, sometimes I feel like we're losing our passion for playing music. And that's the f?!ked-up thing, when you lose passion for what you love, then it's like, Is this marriage headed for divorce or what? 

RIP: Theoretically, you can fight back a couple of ways. Like Cobain, you could make a record almost calculated to offend all the bandwagon-jumpers. Or take as much time off as you'd like. Who says you can't go live on a desert island for two years? 

BJA: That'd be nice. I'm just not enjoying life right now. I'm really not. I'm so cluttered, I can't even speak. Yeah, I do feel like I'm getting old, and I'm kinda bitter about that. I'm not excited about being onstage anymore, and I was really trying to convince myself that I was. Really. Before we did this last U.S. tour, every time I did an interview--I don't know if you read the last Rolling Stone piece--I was like "Yeah! I'm excited! I wanna play these arenas!" and stuff. And then just every night, it started sucking, it felt like a routine or something. It felt almost choreographed in a lot of ways. And I was yelling "f?!k you!" to people, but I didn't know who I was yelling "f?!k you" to anymore. 

RIP: Last time we spoke, you said you went out of your way to change every single show, make each one different. 

BJA: Well, I think it's just the stress of getting up in front of all those people all the time, every day. It's like, "Do I really feel like downing another f?!cking pot of coffee and a bottle of wine before I walk onstage to do this again? Just to get myself ready to go?" You know, for all those people. And every night I always do something different and stupid. But at the same time, it'd be really cool to just say "F?!k you!" to people and like, walk off. And then they'd get it. It's like, "I'm really telling you to f?!k off this time! Time to pack up and go home." It'd just be so nice to start from scratch again. 

RIP: In many ways you can. That's the music-making system trying to program your behavior. And obviously you've broken quite a few rules already--you don't even have to be talking to me right now, actually.... 

BJA: Oh no. I really wanted to do this interview, just because the last interviews that I've done, I've been miserable, and I was pretending not to be. I really was, I was lying. Not to the reader, not to the person I was doing the interview. But I was lying to myself, convincing myself that I was really happy with how everything is going. 

RIP: So you always knew what you wanted, and now you've got it, in spades. You're having trouble figuring out what's next? 

BJA: I didn't even know what I wanted back then. I really didn't. I didn't know if I wanted to be huge, totally successful. I never knew that. I was struggling so hard even to sign that f?!king contract--when I was sitting there, I was contemplating, "Should I just run outta here right now? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?" A lot of people say, "You're totally disillusioned with what money can do for people," but money never meant shit to me. There's something very passionate to me, very romantic, about living on the street in a lot of ways. Just because I really like my lifestyle back then. I was totally content, in retrospect. A lot of it has to do with the fame. I dunno, I'm trying to talk right now and just totally stuttering. 

RIP: It's not like you chose music--it chose you, and you can't help it. 

BJA: Yeah, it's cool when people really get it. But what a lot of people don't understand is that we're a band that's been around a lot longer than people know. And that's the thing. The difference between this and what happened between Kerplunk and Dookie--in a year, I got married, I had a kid, and I sold 11 million records worldwide. That can do something to ya, ya know? 

BJA: Sometimes I think it'd be cool to just hang out with my friends, drink beer, smoke cigarettes. The more I think about it, the more I'd be really happy with that. I don't think that we're feeling quite like a band anymore--that's one problem we have. There was this certain rock 'n' roll underdog think that we always had--we always drove for something, always drove from town to town in a small van. And you know, I f?!kin' like touring like that--it's like culture shock, really, driving around in a van, setting up my amp when I get there, and playing. That's rock 'n' roll, that's what it started out as. A bunch of sweaty pigs in some tiny f?!kin' bar having a hootenanny, that's what punk rock was to me, that's what drove me to it. I love rock music in its simples, rawest form. And I think we're the only band, really, that plays rock 'n' roll. 

RIP: Has all this put a strain on your old friendships? Do your pals treat you a little differently now? 

BJA: When I come up to friends I haven't talked to in a while, there's a weirdness. And the ones who are really close to me don't really bring up anything, but that thing is still there; it's still in the air. And sometimes I'll just not say anything the whole time we're hanging out. I'll be totally quiet, because the only thing I'll have to talk about is my band, and I get so sick of talking about my band and myself. So I'll just be quiet, since that's the only thing there is to me, except for my son and my wife. 

RIP: Pretty soon, you'll be boring everyone with slide shows--"There we are at Yosemite!" 

BJA: Ha! Adrienne was telling me the other day, "When you were in there dancing with all your friends, while the band was playing, you were so happy because you were so in your element." And I've even gone as far as saying we're not a punk band anymore. But no matter what, that's still gonna stick with me forever, because I love the music, I love the energy of a new band coming out that creates this sense of urgency about 'em. I'll never be able to kick that habit. I love hangin' out with my friends who have small fanzines--kids just writing their guts out about whatever the hell's bothering 'em, and putting it on a Xerox machine and then handing it out for a quarter apiece at shows or at a party. All I wanna do is just try and work it out. I was sitting there the other day, counting all the records that the Replacements put out, stuff like that, Dan thinking how [Paul] Westerberg totally came across to his audience and did everything, everything that the wanted to do in music. He wasn't extremely successful for it, but the guy has influenced people, and a lot of 'em don't even know that they are influenced by him. All I wanna do is just write good songs and stick to it. I wanna develop--not being experimental--but go into different styles, go across my boundaries of the two-and-a-half minute punk song with a three-and-a-half minute jazz song, or maybe get into a little bit of swing or rockabilly. 

RIP: With such staggering success, you could walk into Reprise and tell 'em you're doing an album of saxophone solos and they'd allow you that creative luxury. 

BJA: Well, I never wanna be that experimental. I don't wanna get into synthesizers and shit like that. The thing that was cool for me with Insomniac was that I think we definitely set a foundation for ourselves, because we put out our hardest record to date, totally in-your-face all the way through, and now we're able to go anywhere we want. We can do that now--we do have that going for us. That is, if people are still interested. Which is kinda weird for me to say.... 

RIP: Your craft will always remain the most important thing of all, even if you're just writing for your own amusement. 

BJA: Yeah. No matter what, I'm gonna be writing songs for the rest of my life. I mean, I already have a shitload of new songs right now. But I just wanna do some other things with it. We've sold a million of Insomniac so far. But I definitely want to be respected as a musician. Well, more as a songwriter than as a musician. I wanna be f?!kin' normal, is what I wanna be. The thing is, I've seen so many freaks and so many weirdos and crazy punk rockers and drunks and junkies. But for a lot of those people being weird is easy. It's so easy to be strange--the hard thing is to try to be normal. There's no such thing as normal, ya know. 

RIP: How's your mom feel about all this? 

BJA: She's kinda worried about me. She doesn't know what to think of everything. We have a hard time communicating with each other, just because I don't like to talk about it that much. So she feels like she has to walk on eggshells around me all the time. 

RIP: You buy her anything cool once the money started rolling in? 

BJA: Nah--she doesn't want anything. I've asked her. She's been living in the same house for over 20 years, and she's content living there. But I did give her a trip--she went to Hawaii, her and her boyfriend. And I think travelling is really good--if you paid for someone to travel, so they can go and explore and see some things they've never seen before. But I think that's probably where I get it from. I get so content with not having much. And then you get all this stuff, all this attention, and you don't really know what to do with it. You don't know how to channel it. 

RIP: Most outrageous thing you've bought for yourself? 

BJA: I got my car primered! And one thing I did do was build a home studio. So I've been recording all my friends' bands for free. I produced this band called Dead and Gone, and Social Unrest, Fetish and the Criminals. And I have this side-project called Pinhead Gunpowder--nothing's up with it right now, but we played at the beginning of '94 a few times. RIP: Sounds like you've got more than enough pressure valves to let off the steam. Still, do you worry about death? 

BJA: Yeah, I do. But I have too many reasons to stick around. One is my son and my wife. And I don't feel like I'm finished yet. I'm not done, ya know? And the beauty of it is that death is forever and your problems aren't. And that's why I'm talking about my bad shit, because you vent that, you get it off your chest and you can move on to something else. There's gotta be a positive side to all this--so you just sort of try and dig it out. Get rid of all the bad--out with the bad air, in with the good air. 

RIP: You said about Green Day that you think your "bandwagon is coming to a close and all that's gonna be left is just a band. Hopefully." So then will you start writing happy songs? 

BJA: I thought about writing a totally sarcastic song called "I'm So Goddamn Happy," just talking about how happy I am. Actually, I'd like to put out a double record--I'd like to put out tons of music. But I never wanna become an egomaniac. I just wanna keep things down to earth, so I think it's really important for us to take a long break after all this stuff. We just put out two records back to back, one year after another, and now we can sit back and work on ourselves as people again. So we don't parody ourselves. And it's so hard to be a father and a musician at the same time. If I get into one thing and I pay close attention to it, like if I'm with Joey and I start neglecting my music, then I feel like I should play more often. So I start playing my music, and then I'm going, "Am I neglecting Joey?" So it becomes hard to do everything at the same time. 

BJA: I wanna create a very mellow and sound atmosphere for him, because I don't wanna make any mistakes for him--I want him to be able to make his own mistakes. And even when it comes to swearing--I don't cuss in front of my kid. I'd rather him get it from some dirty-mouthed kid at school. Then at least I'd know, I could go "Thank God--my kid is in a real world and he's learning these things from his surroundings." That'd be a good thing. Because the best things you ever learn are the things you learn in kindergarten. 

Finally, after more than an hour worth of gut-spilling, Armstrong suddenly observes four brace-faced girls, each no more than 12 years old, idling over by the cash register. They're there on the pretext of getting change. In reality, they just want to ogle punk icon and pin-up darling Billie Joe, stare at those caterpillar eyebrows and chiselled cheekbones up close. Another oh-my-gawd event. "I gotta go--it's gettin' weird," the reluctant rocker whispers, literally leaping up from the booth. "I can feel eyeballs all over me already...." And as fast as that, he's gone. "Was that...was that...B-B-B-B-Billie Joe?" stammers one swooner. "No," says the waitress, with a subtle smile. "That was just some guy who usually eats here alone, nobody famous at all. You know, just an average guy." A little white lie to herd the young 'uns out. But nevertheless the truth.

[florenceandthemachine]

talk stackson to me about stiles getting a piercing (or piercings) of your choice while they’re in college and them driving jackson out of his fucking mind. bonus points if jackson goes with him to get his next one and they end up getting matching tattoos instead.

So, here's the thing. Jackson doesn’t even notice the first piercing that Stiles gets for like, a week. 

After suffering through what feels like a month of insomnia and developing what feels like a crippling tolerance of NyQuil, Stiles finally breaks down and looks to alternative sources of sleep aids. He tries acupuncture, he tries massage, he tries aromatherapy. Nothing works. 

He reads about the benefits of a daith piercing online, and while he has learned to take everything on the internet with a grain of salt, he’s beyond the point of desperate. He googles the nearest tattoo and piercing shop, grabs his keys, and walks in about twenty minutes before there set to close.

He looks a mess. He has rings under his eyes, his clothes are crumpled, but the artist in the shop doesn’t even bat an eye when he says he needs a “daith piercing, like, yesterday.”

He’s in and out in less than ten minutes. Apparently, after a few days without sleep, Stiles no longer has an aversion to needles. Not when the needles come with the sweet promise of getting knocked the fuck out. 

He gets home after grabbing one of Kira’s cards (because she seems like a cool person in general), takes off his pants, flops onto the couch...

...and sleeps for thirty nine hours. 

(Jackson, bless him, comes home from work, sees Stiles sleeping, and silently cheers. He’s two years into his pre-med program at this point, so he knows how dangerous insomnia can be—he just takes Stiles vitals every six hours and lets him sleep.)

So, no. Jackson doesn’t notice Stiles first piercing right away, and when he does, it’s with hardly a second thought (if it helps Stiles sleep, why would he be mad about it?). It’s a tiny, barely there hoop of surgical steel, almost buried in his ear—why the hell would he notice it immediately?

Stiles second piercing, though, that Jackson notices. Partially because Stiles calls Jackson drunk and crying about it. 

Stiles has just finished one of the most grueling midterm seasons of his life, and he demands a party. Scott, the eternal bro that he is, agrees immediately. Stiles sends out a mass text to everyone in his phone, kisses Jackson good luck on his last midterm, and immediately heads to the liquor store.

Jackson finishes his anatomy and physiology midterm (at seven PM on a Friday, because his instructor is a sadist) in less than two hours, and takes no small comfort in the warmth radiating through his body when he turns on his phone and sees supportive text message pouring in from Stiles, even as they progressively get less coherent as Stiles undoubtedly gets more imbibed.

He’s about to call the idiot love of his life when his phone goes off, Stiles having beat him to the punch. He’s still grinning as he puts the phone to his ear. 

“Hey baby, I just finished up. I can be there in fifteen—”

“JACKSON! I LOVE YOU.”

Jackson beams.

“JACKSON KIRA BROKE MY FACE.”

Jackson... beams significantly less. He has to tell himself that of course it isn’t anything even remotely close to real danger, but he has never quite been okay with the idea of any part of Stiles being remotely hurt, or as drunk Stiles would call it, “broken”.

“Stilinski, I’ll be there in ten minutes. You’d better be with all of your pieces or I’m going to kill Scott.”

Stiles gasps and must drop his phone, because his voice is higher pitched but further away as he wails. 

“OH NO HE CALLED ME STILINSKI I’M GONNA BE IN TROUBLEEEEE—”

The line cuts off, and Jackson makes it to Scotts apartment in eight minutes. 

When he gets there, the party is in full swing; apparently the mass text that Stiles sent out included Kira, his one-time piercing compatriot, who now had a line of people wrapped around the hallway to get a needle stuck through some part of their body. Kira was taking payment in shots. This did not bode well. 

Stiles found him before he could even make sense of the situation—seriously, how did Scott and Stiles even know this many people?—and their earlier phone call must have been forgotten, because Stiles all but jumped into Jackson’s arms, somehow stumbling over himself while managing to avoid spilling a drop of his drink (which honestly smelled like gasoline. Stiles never was one to waste time mixing drinks).

“Hi baby! You look so good in your scrubs! How was your exam! Did you dish—dith—disvvhh... take apart any bodies?” he fires, speech slurred, but Jackson is too busy making sure that he’s okay to take stock of Stiles mental state. He... appears fine, which is all the more concerning. 

“Stiles.”

“You’re so smart, you know that? I can’t wait for you to be some big shot doctor—”

“Stiles.”

“—and you’ll have an office! And you’ll help so many people! And—”

“Stiles, what the fuck happened with Kira?”

Jackson gets all the answer he needs as Stiles mouth snaps shut, his eyes wide and fearful, and Jackson has to bite down on his own tongue to curb his temper as he reaches to hold Stiles’ face.

“You promise you won’t be mad?”

Jackson absolutely cannot fucking promise that, not if Kira hurt Stiles, not if—

“Kira is a kitsune.”

Jackson’s mind stumbled, doing mental gymnastics trying to catch up with the turn that the conversation had taken.

“And she has magic powers. And I think Scott likes her. And she knows I love you. And... she gave me a present."

Jackson is more lost than ever before, and he pretends not to be shocked stiff when Stiles tilts his head, pulling Jackson’s thumb between his lips, lavishing the digit with his tongue, and—

and Jackson feels something... new, something that definitely wasn’t there before, and any anger, irritation, or doubt he felt in his stomach was banished when Stiles released the digit. His tongue followed soon after, and sure enough, there was a smooth, narrow bar placed dead center in Stiles pretty pink tongue. 

Jackson is stunned silent, his eyes following the metal as it retreated behind Stiles’ teeth. 

Stiles, who seemed a whole lot more sober as he smirked, licking his lips, giving Jackson just the slightest flash of the bar once more. 

“She even healed it up for me, right away, once she replied I knew about her being... you know. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. But really, this is a gift for you.” he murmurs, and Jackson’s belly pools with lust. He was going to have to thank Kira later—but for now, he just slung Stiles over his shoulder, caveman style, and hauls him home.

—

When they first started dating, Stiles spent... a painful amount of time discovering Jackson’s erogenous zones, and repeats the process with the bar in his tongue over the next year. Jackson loves it, of course, but what he really loves it he look on Stiles face when they discover something new together—Stiles lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. 

Kira becomes a staple in their friend group, inevitable once she and Scott start dating, so it becomes a regular thing that they hang out at her shop.

Which, Stiles is impressed to learn, is her shop—as in she owns it, not just works there. 

They swing by late one evening, after a wonderful anniversary dinner, and really, where had five years gone? Stiles insists that he has something for Kira before they go home, and Jackson is in no hurry—they had started talking serious things over the past few months, and Stiles had left no doubt to be found about the fact that he intended to spend the rest of his life with Jackson. 

He was loved, he was happy, and he would do anything for Stiles. Even if it meant waiting for what he knew would be some mind-blowing, commitment laced, anniversary sex. 

Scott is there, surprising no one, and Stiles hovers around, watching in morbid curiosity as Malia, one of the artists, wipes clean the last in a series of corset piercings on one of their female customers, her hands fast but gentle as she laces the last piercing up. 

Jackson, on the other hand, is drawn almost immediately to Kira. Or, more precisely, what Kira is sketching. She had a set of designs open on her tablet, two nearly identical looking rectangles detailing some of the most ornate scenes he had ever seen. He often found himself entranced in what Kira drew, on skin or on screen, and this was no exception. 

They’re both monochromatic, and they look like they belong together—one with a wide forestscape, trees and earth and ark sky blending together, the other with a wolf, tall and proud. They could be standalone pieces, Jackson thought, but they looked almost cyclical, like they could be arm bands.

Well, no, not arm bands—they were too small for that, they were more like—

“Rings.” Stiles says, behind him, a small smile on his face as Kira hits Print. “They’re going to be rings, Jackson.”

Jackson turns back and tilts his head as Kira shows them the transposed stencil printouts—he can kind of see it, they’re definitely small enough to wrap around a finger, and Kira is amazing enough with her detail work that she can probably make it fit, impeccably, to fit halfway between someones hand and their first knuckle. 

“I know you’re not really into the material things, and lets be honest, I would lose a ring.” Stiles starts, and Jackson turns, still clueless, but definitely picking up on Stiles nerves, picking up that there’s something that he’s missing. “But, I figured that this was a good compromise... I mean, I know I want to have something that reminds me of you always, so... what do you say, Jacks?”

He takes one of the stencils—the one of the forest—and peels it from the paper gently, getting down on one knee as he takes Jackson’s left hand, wrapping the stencil around the lowest portion of his ring finger. It’s almost a perfect fit. 

“Will you marry me?”

—

By the time they tie the knot, they both have several more additions to their body. Stiles has a pair of studs in each of his ears and a second hole in his tongue, placed near the tip, so he can fit a ring through it. 

Jackson had quickly discovered a love of ink—he had a thin snake, coiled around his neck, low enough to be covered by his scrub top at work (Stiles had called him macabre), a Rod of Asclepius over his heart (he was so tired of explaining the difference between it and the Staff of Caduceus), and a triskele on his shoulder blade (Derek had cried, literally cried, when Jackson showed him, their pack bond thrumming stronger than ever).

(He also might have had a wedding present for Stiles done that morning, a shining Prince Albert, courtesy of Malia [who blessedly didn’t ask questions while stabbing Jackson’s junk with a needle] and an instant heal courtesy of Kira [who really, really didn’t want to know].)

His favorite, though, by far, was the band on his finger—and as the Justice of the Peace declared them married and he dipped his husband into a filthy kiss, cheered on by all of their friends and family, he couldn’t help but admire the two bands together. They were different, but they still fit together. Beautiful. Complimentary. Permanent. 

And Jackson wouldn’t have had it any other way.