#before giving up again every other episode

[damn-stark]

Chapter 2 Lavender green, lavender blue

Chapter 2 of Sinnerwoman

A/N- Ahhh!! The second chapter is here and I really hope you all like it just as much as I liked writing it!!

Warning- ANGST!! Weapons, blood, light violence. Talks of death! And small SA part. Spoilers for the show!

Pairing- Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Episode- 1x09 & 2x01-2x02

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

——

A decision has been made. It was made the moment the Front Man revealed his identity, but what is the warmth and the sound of your lover's beating heart compared to a lifetime of bitter solitude and agonizing screams?

Nothing…nothing compares to what you have to return to, but you can’t stay or risk waiting. Jun-ho might be in a coma, he might wake up a month from now, and you would have waited a month or all your life if you had to, but you can’t risk it.

You have to leave, he has to forget about you for his own safety. And maybe it is a selfish decision, you got mad at him because he chose to leave you in the dark when he decided to put his life at risk to sneak onto that Island, but this is different. This is a sacrifice you're making to save his life. Does it make leaving him behind any better?

No, you don’t want him to forget about you. You don’t want him to meet someone else, and you don’t want him to live the life you wanted with him with someone else. You want him to only love you, but there’s no other choice. He won’t stop pursuing the Island and that will get him killed, and you don't think you’ll be able to survive this time if you have to watch someone else that you love die in your arms again, so you have to leave.

First, though, you have to snuggle up against him and share his warmth for a little longer. You have to hear the sound of his beating heart for a little longer to memorize its calming beat.

Just a little longer.

“Lavender’s green, dilly, dilly…lavender's blue,” you sing, or try because every word of the lullaby comes out shaky and like you’re out of breath because you can’t help the tears that run down your cheeks and stain Jun-ho’s hospital gown.

“If you love me…dilly, dilly. I will love you,” you continue and maybe you aren’t the best singer, but memories fade or get obscured, especially those of children, and that lullaby is one of the few memories you have of your sister when she would sing it to you at the orphanage. It means so much to you, to her memory and now when you think of that song, besides your sister, you’ll think of the only man you’ll love. The man who loved you; your Jun-ho, so you have to share it with him. Even if he can’t hear it.

Yet those last words uttered were like a pierce to the heart and with each impact, more and more of you was chipped away, leaving no more strength to continue the rest. Thus you stroke Jun-ho’s chest one more time before you shift your head to press a light kiss on the part of his chest that you were resting your head on. You then slide off the bed and sit up to study every inch of his face before you lean down and leave one last kiss on his lips.

Rather than getting up right away, you let the warmth of your lips linger on his to cherish the taste before you force yourself off the hospital bed.

When you’re standing at the foot of the same bed you steal one last glance at him, wishing you could have seen his eyes and talked to him one more time, but you keep telling yourself that what you’re doing is for the best, so you push yourself away with tears crawling down the curve of your cheeks.

Before you can leave the room and the hospital, however, you make a stop at the bathroom. You splash your face with water to wipe the tears off your cheeks and any marking they could have left behind. If you had any other clothes besides the ones you wore to the Island, you would have put them on now, but you have nothing. All you can do is disconnect your phone from any satellite that gives you service, and then the wifi to go offline, making the hospital the last place your phone would have been.

Once that is taken care of, you move to leave, but you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, so you stop and slowly scale your eyes to the scar of a skidding bullet above your ear, and every bad memory you have of the island comes rushing in, making you hesitate and dread having to return to that horrible and terrible life.

You almost have the nerve to return to Jun-ho’s bedside and pretend you weren’t going to leave. You don’t want to see it again. You don’t want to live it. You can’t hide behind a mask again, but…it’s a sacrifice you have to make for the man you love, so after a deep breath you make it out of the bathroom. You throw your phone away in the nearest trash can and stride out of the hospital.

No one stops you, and no one looks. You walk out alone under the cover of rain and leave everything behind.

——

*3 YEARS LATER.*

“…IT'S ALMOST BEEN THREE YEARS SINCE THE DISAPPEARANCE…”

Whatever had been said before didn’t matter. It didn’t even register as noise, but these words finally steal his attention. After all, it's been the same words they once repeated daily and then weekly, monthly, and then every year, so like his name, Jun-ho becomes alert when he hears them,

“…OF THE RESPECTED AND DECORATED DETECTIVE KANG…”

Yet when the news anchor begins to say your name he tunes out the news again. He can’t muster the strength to hear your name or see the portrait of you that they display on the screen without feeling agony pierce his heart. So with memorized timing, he tunes out those few seconds and then focuses again to hear the rest of the news bit.

“…SHE WAS LAST SEEN LEAVING THE HOSPITAL. IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION ON HER WHEREABOUTS PLEASE CONTACT YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES. THANK YOU.”

Yet no one ever does contact the authorities. It’s like you just vanished in the rainfall that supposedly hit that night.

Maybe if you hadn’t been seen at the same hospital he was taken to it would be easier to pass you off as dead, but you were seen. You made it out of the Island, just like he did, so how could he possibly forget you? You of all people. You out of every soul he knew. You…his epic love.

Just like his brother was his life. You were also all of his life and so much more of it. He would have to be dead to forget you.

Maybe death would be good though. That way he would forget what he saw his brother become. That way he could stop blaming himself for your disappearance, but when he looks up at the picture of you and him that he has attached to his locker mirror, he thinks to himself, “How can I possibly die without knowing where you are, or…what happened to you?”

He can’t die yet. He has so many questions, and so much unfinished business that also has nothing to do with you, but, you…

“You,” he thinks to himself as he pulls the picture off the mirror, catching at that moment the wandering eyes of his colleague before he quickly looks away and walks off without saying a word.

At first, the first few weeks of your disappearance, when he returned to work, all he would get was pitiful consolations. After that, anytime you were brought up they just passed him pitiful stares that were also mixed with curiosity as they wondered if he still cared.

He would tell them to fuck off, but he doesn’t want to waste his breath so he lets them think what they want. He’s still searching for answers and he’s the only one that needs to know that.

“I won’t stop looking,” he thinks to himself as he folds the picture so you and your timid smile are the center of attention.

After he strokes his thumb over the image of you he sticks the picture back on his mirror and tries to continue changing back into his normal clothes, but then the scar his brother left on his shoulder steals his attention.

Just like you, how can he possibly forget about In-ho? Sometimes he forgets what he saw, but when he sees his scar, when he feels the shape under his fingertips, he remembers what happened that day In-ho shot him and he’s hit with a wave of different emotions and questions.

One question he has is if In-ho has anything to do with your disappearance. You escaped the Island, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t find you after you escaped.

Maybe In-ho…took you away from Jun-ho’s life?

He doesn’t like that possibility, he can’t imagine that his brother is the one who stole the woman he loved from him, so he finishes changing. Once he’s done, like every day that came before, he leaves the department and heads to his car.

Yet this evening as he’s walking to his car he feels this sensation like someone is staring, so he stops walking, and lifts his gaze to look in the direction he felt the stare coming from.

However, when his eyes find the spot, there’s no one there. There’s just an empty street. So after a couple of seconds of lingering, he continues to his car. It’s only once he’s driven off that you come out from behind a pillar, and keep your eyes where you had seen him last before you take a deep breath and collect yourself to check your phone.

When you see what time it is you groan in annoyance and set off. There’s no hurry in your pace, or an urgency to get a ride to where you’re meant to be. You go on as if you’re taking a stroll through the city, enjoying the sights like a tourist, and enjoying the sounds of everyday life because that’s the one thing you like; the commotion of the busy city life.

Where you live now is like living in a construction site, or sometimes it feels like an office. In the off-season when there’s not an army of workers, there is a stillness that you appreciate, but with it comes a silence that drags on and if you weren’t used to it you would be driven insane.

That’s why you soak in the everyday commotion while you can. Even if it makes you late to your meeting.

“Hi, I’m here to join a party already at a table. Under the name, Oh,” you let the hostess know, and right away her eyes search the list on her screen. In a matter of seconds, her finger stops scrolling and she faces you with a perfectly practiced smile.

“Follow me,” she says and walks away from her podium to guide you to a secluded table at the end of the room, still nicely lit, but secluded to offer privacy.

Thus the walk is longer than usual, but when you reach the table the party waiting for you stands from their seats to welcome you to the table at long last.

“Here you go, ma’am, do you know what you want to order or should I leave the menu?”

“No,” one of the party members interjects. “We already ordered ahead for her. Let the waitress know she’s here.”

The hostess offers him a smile and nods in comprehension before she backs up and walks off, leaving you alone to face your rather patient dates.

“Forgive me,” you announce with a small smile. “I’m late. I know. There was some business I needed to take care of.”

You proceed to take your seat that faces the party you met up with, and they then take their seats after you, letting you meet them at their eye level and offer them a wider smile. “Shall we?” You suggest.

——

*2 YEARS AGO*

“…I don’t like to see you get hurt and if something had happened to you, or if something happens to you because of me, I…don’t think I could ever in my life forgive myself. I…love you.”

“I…love you.”

“I…love you.”

Jun-ho’s words are the commotion that keeps the quiet lobby from truly being deafening so late at night. While the picture in your hand keeps you company in a lobby where you’re the only one occupying it.

That is until you hear the glass front doors get pushed open and a single pair of wet footsteps walk in and change the occupation from one to two. Or so that’s what it sounds like.

You peer back thinking you’ll catch more people walking in with the person you’re waiting for, but alas, it’s a single man. A homeless man…maybe? He looks ragged with his beat-up clothes, his shoulder-length unkempt hair, and his dirty face.

But who are you to judge his appearance?

“The elevators are down the hall,” you share as you turn your head away from the man who seems lost. “If not. The receptionist start their shift at six. You’ll have to be gone by then.”

The man begins to walk down the hall while he offers you a response. “Oh…thank you. Goodnight.”

“Good night,” you deadpan and keep listening in. It’s not until you hear the elevator doors close that you bring up your picture again and keep admiring Jun-ho’s image, his heartwarming smile that he only showed to the camera because you were posing with him. Otherwise, you would only catch him in a picture alone if it was off guard. It’s why you have a lot of pictures of him off guard, and that’s why the ones with him actually looking at the camera and smiling are your favorite, but the one you hold in your hand is a picture you cherish the most because decorations from your favorite holiday adorn it, and he’s holding your little black Scottish Terrier, Gentleman.

If only you could be with them, especially now, but if you picked up your dog the moment you left the hospital that night, it would have made your disappearance questionable, so you left him behind with your neighbor the day you left for the Island. And Jun-ho…there’s hundreds of reasons why you can’t be with him…

That’s why you’re here alone, watching the snow start to fall and stick to the ground with a solemn look that will probably never leave. Once the snow is thicker you put the folded picture away and step outside where you break the snow’s path so some part of it can fall on you instead.

It takes a while for you to look up as you stand in your solitude and let the snow weigh you down first as if you’re just another object on the street. When you do finally break from your stupor, you slowly look up at the white sky intermingled with the night, and notice two perfectly shaped snowflakes dancing down from the sky in an attempt to reach the ground, so you put your hand out and try to catch them on your palm.

Nevertheless, one snowflake breaks away from its path and continues barreling to the ground, while the other lands on your palm all alone and melts right away.

Perhaps if the other snowflake had also landed on your palm, the lonely snowflake would have lived longer, but it was no good alone. Thus you fist your hand with disappointment and attempt to head back inside, but in that moment you then catch a man across the street.

He doesn’t seem conscious, he seems to be sleeping with the way he’s slumped on the ground, but you can’t be sure from where you are, so you make your way to him.

The moment you reach him you call out to him in hopes of gaining his attention. “Sir? Are you okay?”

You wait for a few seconds but there’s no response. His eyes remain closed and his breathing heavy, so you get closer and catch a whiff of alcohol, but you don't let that matter. You still shake him gently, causing him to slip.

When he doesn’t wake up that way you back away and immediately pull your phone out to call the police. And rather than staying there and waiting for the police out in the open, under all the street lights, you choose to walk off to a bench across the street and wait there where you won’t be seen.

You continue to wait and wait until finally a siren sounds and police show up to take the man out of the cold. And even then you don’t leave the cold yourself, you stay on the bench, letting the snow continue to pile up on your slouched figure as you wait and lose yourself on the untouched sheet of snow already covering the ground.

After some unknown time passes the headlights of a car break you from your stupor and you look up, noticing black SUVs with dark tinted windows pull up to the apartment building you had been waiting in. Thus ending your waiting period and making you dust the snow off your body before you get up to look like some creep waiting just outside the car.

Thankfully who you’re waiting for doesn’t leave you waiting too long, but the moment your eyes land on him your breath catches in your throat. And when his eyes fall on you, he comes to a stop and has the nobility to look at you in the eyes.

There’s no softness and no agitation. He doesn’t pass you a firm or deadpanned look. He seems curious about you, just as you are about him; Hwang In-ho, the older brother of the love of your life, and the Front Man.

Even so, neither of you exchange any words on any matter, he just says your name so you counter by stating his own name. “Hwang In-ho. It’s nice to meet you in a calmer environment.” You scoff and he just looks at you before he turns his body to face the car.

“Are you coming?” He asks and walks away without waiting for an answer as if he knows what you’re going to choose. Yet you still linger where you are to hesitate as if you have a choice when your mind's made up and has been forcing you to follow through with that decision for a year now.

It’s just…if you get that in that car, you officially go back to that nightmare. You leave your life behind. You leave Jun-ho, and trade it for…a life that turned its back on you?

“Your father is dead,” In-ho shares from inside the car as if he can read your mangled thoughts only getting more and more twisted—“you have a chance to start over. Not where you started, but by my side. Just as we discussed. Get in the car.”

You put your hands in your pockets to grab the picture and debate for a second longer before you choose not to live a lifetime secluded. If you’re going to be alone you might as well be alone there where you can be a piece upon the board. So you get in the car and watch your decision get sealed when the door closes.

“Is the host dead?” You ask first and foremost, skipping formalities because you already know each other's names.

“The flower arrangement was inappropriate,” he says in a deeper tone that could be passed as scolding.

“Well,” you respond with a growing malicious smile. “Look at it this way, now my flowers will be the first to decorate his grave.” You snicker and look over at him with a smile, but he looks at you nonchalantly.

“You can’t see Jun-ho anymore,” he changes the subject bluntly, causing your smile to fall and your amusement to fade right away.

“I know that,” you mutter as you turn your head away to look out the window. “That’s why I disappeared because I saw you. I knew who you were and what you meant to the games, and I…knew,” you pause and swallow back a lump of emotions that had begun to form in your throat. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie to his face.”

You see your eyes water through the reflection painted on the window, so you avert your gaze and continue. “He really cares about you…you know. He looks—looked up to you. It wasn’t long after we met that he told me about you, so…seeing you take that mask off…” you trail off and peek over at him, seeing that he can't look at you, his eyes are on his hands, and his jaw is clenched, giving away his discomfort on the matter.

“…was when I knew what I had to do to protect him because if he knew that I knew how to find you, he wouldn’t stop. He would get himself killed to get back on that Island again. To reach you, and,” you pause and feel the tears break away to fall down your cheeks.

“I can’t lose him. He means everything to me. And coming from someone with nothing, losing everything is like losing one's own life.”

In-ho hums, and you take that as a simple form of acknowledgment, but if you could understand the deeper meaning behind that simple acknowledging hum, you would know that he also knows what it’s like to lose everything.

“I already lost everything once. I can’t lose it again. So I know I can’t see him again,” you finish stating and then wipe the tears off your face to slowly look over at him.

“Are you sure there will be a place for me there?” You make sure to ask.

In-ho’s eyes drift to you to catch a glimpse of you before he reaches down and grabs a black box decorated with a pink bow to give it to you.

You don’t wait or question him. You pull at the pink bow to pull it off and then pull the lid off the box. When you reach inside you pull out a shiny silver mask of the top half of a crane’s face.

“This is where you belong,” In-ho assures you as you keep looking at your mask and realize there’s no turning back. This is you now. Again.

Another piece on the board…

Or the piece that ends it all.

——

*NOW*

“I’m glad that we are meeting in the city,” you muse as you pull your coat off and hang it on your chair. “The island tends to suffocate me.”

“You insisted on meeting here,” In-ho quips as he studies you as if that will give away where you were. “Annoyingly so.”

You shrug and flash him a sweet smile. “And you accepted. You had the power to deny my suggestion but you caved, so my point still stands.”

In-ho sighs deeply in annoyance before he snaps his gaze away to look at your third guest, the man in charge of recruiting the players for the games. “Anyway, considering some of us are meant to be missing, we're short on time. Tell us what you know,” he directs at the recruiter.

“Well,” the recruiter doesn’t leave you waiting. “As I’ve mentioned, player 456, Seong Gi-hun, and his…hired lackey,” he adds without masking his disgust. “Are trailing me.”

“What else is new,” you mutter and sit back as the waitress walks over with your cup of coffee just the way you like it. “Aren’t they on the subway lines every day?”

The recruiter sighs whilst he also picks up his spoon to mix his coffee. “On the dot. Which leaves me surprised that…such low lives are so loyal to their boring jobs.”

You pick your cup up and raise it to quip. “Money. Maybe we can offer them more to act like they don’t see you. That will keep player 456 chasing after his own tail.”

The recruiter laughs and you flash him a smile as you take a sip of your coffee. Albeit In-ho doesn’t share your amusement. “That won’t be necessary. You will let Player 456’s lackey find you.”

The recruiter lets his spoon go and blinks repeatedly in confusion before he questions the command. He’s not one to question any command given to him. If In-ho or anyone above him says bark, he will do so without hesitation, but he questions this command this one time. “Are you sure?”

In-ho nods. “Play with them or be straightforward. It doesn’t matter as long as Player 456 gets this key,” he shares before digging in his suit pocket and pulling out a brown card that he hands to the recruiter. “He won’t want any other thing but to see me. That key will have all he needs to find me.”

The recruiter doesn’t read the card. He blindly tucks it away and nods in comprehension.

“How many players have you recruited?” You interject now as you take a longer sip of your coffee.

“I’m close to getting all the players we need. I have of course left three spots open.”

“Good,” In-ho mumbles.

The recruiter licks his lips and leans forward. “Will you still go through with it, Captain?”

In-ho grabs the cup of his almost-finished coffee and leaves the question unanswered for a moment before he nods and then takes his last drink of coffee. Once he's done he proceeds to answer. “As long as player 456 does.”

You set your cup down and keep your eyes lingering on the coffee in your cup to avoid anyone’s potential stare.

“Will you?” The question gets passed and you know the Recruiter is looking at you. “It’s hard to imagine you getting your hands dirty. All those people.”

You swallow thickly and simply steal a glance at him before you take a sip of your coffee and keep your eyes on the cup rather than him to avoid letting him read any part of your current thoughts.

The Recruiter is no mind reader, but he’s crazy enough to know what’s lurking in the shadows of your mind. He always has.

“I’ve been a cop,” you argue. “I know how to get my hands dirty. It doesn’t bother me, and neither do the people.”

“Right,” he snickers. “You’re a lone wolf. With no social skills.”

You sit the cup down hard and snap your eyes to him, catching that stupid taunting smile plastered on his stupid face.

Just like when you were young he always finds a way to pester you.

“If you weren’t number two. You would die. There’s a difference between watching and actually playing. Did you ever play those games in the orphanages you—”

“My brother and I played all the time,” you cut him off before he can tick you off. Which is hard to do. You know how to keep your cool, but he just knows how to press your buttons. “Don’t worry about me,” you deadpan and then look at in-ho. “Shall we?” You press.

In-ho nods without fret, letting you grab your coat before you get up. In-ho mirrors your actions, and before he heads out he does add one last thing to the Recruiter. “Do you have us covered?”

Without a doubt the Recruiter tries to please In-ho by agreeing, letting In-ho then point his hand ahead to let you lead the way out of the cafe.

“See you soon,” the Recruiter throws at you as you walk away without giving your goodbyes, but there’s a reason you didn’t so you just offer him a feigned smile over your shoulder before you roll your eyes away and leave. Once you’re in the car you lean your body toward In-ho and don’t forget to complain.

“Why don’t we change recruiters? This one’s psychotic,” you grumble as you prop your elbow on the armrest and rest your chin on your hand. “He’s always been missing a few bolts in the head.”

In-ho grabs the newspaper of the day from the seat pocket and begins to read the articles. “Some will say that’s what makes him perfect for the job. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

You roll your eyes but keep watching him. “I know someone who will be better at the job. And he’s got a charm to him.”

“Who?” He immediately counters. “I never see you talk to anyone besides me.”

You sit up and look at him like he’s wounded you, while he hides his faint smile by keeping his eyes on the newspaper.

“Oh. Funny.” You grumble and turn away to look ahead with your body slumped in the seat.

“If you’re going to join the game you’ll need to socialize. Gain their trust. Or you’ll be a burden to me.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of me. We can pretend not to know each other.”

“That'd be impossible, who would you talk to then?” He teases you dryly. He’s teasing you!

It seems like you're starting to prefer when he was standoffish and blunt.

“Just be a player. Gain their trust and sabotage Player 456,” he puts it simply without long explanations because this is a matter you already discussed.

“No, no.” You shake your finger. “My job is not to crush Player 456 and destroy his last flicker of will. That’s your job. I am simply joining to not die of boredom watching the games.”

Or so you say out loud.

“Well whatever the case, there’s no fun in it if you isolate yourself,” he disregards you to keep insisting, making you sit back again and look out the window this time. “Do you want me to tag along on the 31st?”

“If it’s what you want,” he says while the newspaper in his hand rustles as he sets it down. “I’m gonna have snipers posted on the route. And two men that will walk in the club.”

You nod in comprehension and share what you already have planned. “Well, I’ll be your lookout then. I’ll have your back. Secure the perimeter, and figure out how many people Player 456 brings with him.”

Through the reflection on the window, you see In-ho nod before he turns his head to look at you before he bluntly changes the subject. “You went to see him didn’t you?”

You stiffen and slowly meet the reflection of his eyes. “You had me followed?” You snap.

“You’re making it harder on yourself,” he says without denying or admitting to the accusation which means it is true—“let him go. What if he had seen you? What if any of his colleagues had seen you?”

You roll your head his way to look him in the eyes with a firmly pointed look. “But he didn’t and he never does!” You argue with your voice raised higher than usual.

“It doesn’t matter if he never has. He can and he will,” he counters with no raise in his voice. He’s just trying to sound firm. “If he sees you, what then? You’ll throw away everything you sacrificed for him and for what? To see him dead?”

You furrow your eyebrows and puff out your chest, but can’t form any argument to throw back at him because you know he’s right. “He was all I had,” you say instead as your eyes wander down.

In-ho sighs and his voice is now softer. “I know, but you’re only hurting yourself more.”

You swallow back thickly and huff as a response. While In-ho steals a glance at you and lets his eyes linger on your drooped frown, your watery eyes, and your furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t show any emotion, he’s still, and providing a deafening silence that is…odd and uncomfortable. There was once a time when he could sit in the silence without it bothering him, but now?

He’s made a mistake welcoming you back on the island and allowing you to have a spot in the innermost circle, but he didn’t know what your presence would bring to his life and now that he lives amongst it, you are his new normal. So when that normal is disturbed it always feels so odd.

Like he’s upset the scales of life.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

Maybe it’s because when you were growing up you were never asked for forgiveness from the man who called himself your father, so you learned to move on and not expect it; live like nothing happened in the first place and shove that problem away. Or maybe it’s because In-ho was/is right about you hurting yourself more by continuing to see Jun-ho, but now as dinner has rolled around, it’s like he didn’t make you upset to the point you haven’t talked to him since the car ride home hours prior.

As is your new normal, you set the dinner table for two, just him and you. It makes for quite a lonely dinner, but there isn’t anyone else either of you care about on the Island to have seated with you for dinner. Plus, after the awkward stage passed, it’s actually nice having dinner together. You look forward to it when you’re not upset at him.

Therefore once you finish setting the table you have the intention to go get him, but when you leave the dining room, there he is just outside the door. It seems like he was passing by the moment you opened the door.

Albeit, unbeknownst to you, he had been outside the door debating whether to come talk to you in order to balance the scales or not. Nothing he said was wrong, he was right and he was going to stand by that, but he also knows there could have been a kinder approach and he was going to explain that.

However, he also debated whether there was a point in asking for forgiveness. He isn’t your brother or your father, he’s your superior, your colleague, and your friend so he was leaning toward that choice. Yet you walked out before he could leave.

“Dinner is ready,” you let him know with a glass of wine in your hand. “But if you want sad ramen that’s okay too.”

In-ho is stuck again. You’re giving him a way out to do as he had chosen to do, but there you stand across from him with a tiny smile tugged on your lips, a pleading gaze you couldn’t keep discreet no matter how hard you try, a warm plate of food already expecting him, and no one else to fill the silence. You’re waiting and asking for nothing in return even if there is something he wants to offer you.

Thus, he accepts your invitation. He walks in, washes his hands, and sits down with no forgiveness to offer you in return. And it's not like you bring it up either. It's like you knew how not to expect it just to please him.

“My sister,” you offer him some more information on a past that you rarely share. “…Was older, so we were separated for most of the day at the orphanage, but when dinner rolled around we always made it our tradition to eat together. It was always my favorite part of the day and something I always looked forward to.” You pause and take a bite of your food, making sure to chew it well and swallow before you take a long drink of your wine and then continue.

“When I was adopted by my family, I was glad that I could continue that tradition with my mother and my brother and on occasion my father. And then…after Jun-ho and I became close, every day after work we would have dinner together. Whether it was in the park, in a car, or at one of our houses. That’s why I learned to cook so well. You’re lucky I’m not six anymore or we’d be having banana sandwiches.”

In-ho scoffs with amusement, letting a small smile appear on his lips as he chews. When he’s done with that bite he interjects. “I can’t imagine your sister was too pleased with your meal choice.”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “Never. She always scolded me, but they were my favorite and the only thing I was allowed to make at a young age, so on days she expected me to make them, she always had boiled eggs for us to eat after.”

In-ho’s smile stays on his face for a moment and it’s in that comfortable silence that was made by the fact that you could make him smile, that you bring up the matter that left a strain between each other.

“You were right, you know,” you say after you take a couple bites of your food. “About Jun-ho.”

You pick up your wine glass as you also lower your head.

“But,” you argue in your defense.

“No,” he cuts you off, and as you bring your eyes up to look at him, you notice that his smile and any sign of amusement is completely gone, leaving him…as always, nonchalant—“You need to completely cut him off. You need to forget the life you had on the mainland. That life will only drag you down and be your worst enemy.”

Tears slowly fill your eyes, but you’re tougher on yourself this time. You don’t cry, you simply snap back with no sign of spite, just nonchalance. “So should I be like you?”

In-ho clenches his jaw as he doesn’t know how to take that, but there’s also no other way to be. “Yes,” he deadpans.

You blink and look down at your food to take a couple of bites and then a longer drink of your wine, managing to finish it and serve yourself more as you think about what he said and that it's not what you want

You know what you yearn for, or so you tell yourself and you don’t want to become everything you despise. You know what you want and you don’t want to be the person that the masks turn you into.

Is he everything you loathe though? If you look at him in the eyes. Really look at him, will he be the reminder of the father you loathe? That’s who he wants you to be…is that who he is?

“Do you think that the workers here will obey me if I am more like you?” You fill the silence as you sit back with your new glass of wine in one hand, and a firmer look that isn’t like that warm look you carried moments ago. “I mean when I’m not in your shadow that is.”

In-ho sits up and holds your gaze as he nods with reassurance. “They’ll no choice will they?”

You tilt your head slightly and scoff.

“When your father was the Front Man…”

“He ruled with an Iron fist,” you continue for him since he wasn’t here when your father was the Front Man. He only knows stories. “Yes, but that’s a thing of the past. Done by different old men. I am no man. I left a different regime behind shall we say, and then I came back under you donning a position of power right away. Do you see where my doubt comes from him?”

“They don’t get to ask questions,” In-ho says. “They have to listen to you. Now if they catch you slipping they will take the chance to do what they want. And with that comes chaos that will eat you alive. Never falter.”

You slowly look down at your wine and begin to gently spin it. “I suppose it is easy to get rid of those who don’t listen here isn’t it?” You ask with a faint smirk.

“You don’t want to overstep either. Easy or not,” he interjects.

You slowly look up at him as you stop spinning your wine and nod stiffly. “I know,” you mutter.

He holds your gaze for a couple more seconds, letting you look him in the eyes and search for what you need.

Right away you see that his eyes are kinder, he is kinder—or was, from what Jun-ho has told you, and from the rare times he metaphorically takes his mask off. Albeit if you look deeper will you see everything you despise? Or something different?

You…don’t know.

But does that change anything?

——

*A FEW DAYS LATER*

“Can you hear me?” You ask for assurance after you made a discreet sweep down the street.

“Yes,” In-ho responds right away in his distorted voice. “We can hear you.”

“There’s nothing that stands out specifically, but I spotted two vans full of men who have not moved or left the car. Both the driver and the front passenger have earpieces on in both cars as well. Let me pass you the license plate,” you direct that last bit to the pink guards before you share what you mentally noted in your quick scouting trip around the block.

“I’m heading back toward the club now,” you follow up by announcing as you pick up your pace, but not in a way that will pique anyone’s interest. You’re fast enough to return to the club quicker.

“We spotted player 456,” a guard shares. “He and a companion are getting out of the car and are en route inside.”

“Wait for them to get inside and then go after them,” In-ho orders.

“There’s also a man in the driver's seat. It seems like he’s waiting.”

In-ho answers with a hum before he passes an order. “Get the license plate and share it with The White Crane,” he refers to your alias. “Take note of who he is, White Crane, and if he gets out of the car to go after player 456, stop him.”

You press the button on the earpiece to give your response. “Understood.”

You keep your pace with a new task in mind. No one stops you because you blend perfectly with everyone else on the busy street celebrating Halloween.

However, you do have to admit you are a bit envious that people seem to be having so much fun. It makes you want to walk into the club and get plastered to have fun too, but you’re on the mainland on a mission, so you’re strictly forbidden to even drink, you can only be envious.

Then again when you finally approach the club, you catch sight of the club and the giant line formed outside, and you admit that maybe being inside doesn’t sound as tempting.

“They’re inside,” a guard shares.

“Alright move in.” In-ho demands.

You finally reach the street where the Pink guards said the car and the man are, but there, in a black car parked in the exact spot you’re on the lookout for, sits Jun-ho. He’s in the driver's seat of the car that matches the license plate the guards told you about.

You could be mistaken. This could be some delusion, but you’re not sick and you can see perfectly fine through your mask, so no, he’s not some fever dream, it’s Jun-ho in the flesh.

Does he notice you?

Your heart stops at the sight of the man you love, making it feel like you’re about to be hit with a heart attack, so you stupidly stop in front of the car and look in wondering if he sees you too.

But how can it be if you’re wearing a fucking mask…

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Of course, he’s involved. Why wouldn't he be in the middle of this ordeal?!

With or without you he didn’t let the Island go and now…you have to confront him and do what In-ho told you to do. There’s no other choice, but will you tell In-ho that it’s his brother working with player 456?

No.

Will you tell him that now that you know he’s here and once again involved in all this, that you have an absurd plan to confront him after 3 years of disappearing from his life?

Also no because he doesn’t need to know.

“I found the car and the driver,” you share through the earpiece after you manage to unglue yourself from your spot before Jun-ho can find you suspicious.

The moment you finish crossing the crosswalk though, the sight of Jun-ho getting out of his car catches your attention.

“He’s out of the car in pursuit of his friends,” you let your people know.

“Stop him,” In-ho deadpans with no clue that you’re referring to his brother.

“On it,” you assure him and cross the street properly, unlike Jun-ho who runs in the middle of a busy street like a madman, forcing a car to break.

He does make it across unscathed, but when he tries to just walk inside he’s stopped by the bouncer, so you have to pretend that you’re taking a smoke break so you don’t look like a stalker, or so he doesn’t spot you before you can stop him.

“Hey, no cutting. Go to the back of the line,” the bouncer tells Jun-ho off, which more than likely aggravates him knowing how impatient he can be.

“Police. Move,” Jun-ho snaps bluntly and once again tries to walk in, but again, the bouncer pushes him back.

“See your fellow officers waiting in line?” The bouncer points out to the line of people waiting. “It’s Halloween. Go put your uniform on first.”

With no warning and zero patience, you watch Jun-ho pull out his gun and point it at the bouncer as he shoves him back against a wall. “Does this look like a toy?” He threatens him, making you smile with amusement.

This time around the bouncer has nothing to say in return. He’s speechless, so Jun-ho is able to walk in, whilst you wait a couple of minutes before you drop the cigarette and stomp on the barely used stick to walk in without any resistance. Not because the bouncer was left shaken up after Jun-ho, it’s because they know who you are. That’s why In-ho chose this specific club.

Once you’re inside, you’re immediately enveloped by all the commotion, the raging music, and the bodies of people crowding the entrance and every step you take, making it hard to find Jun-ho, but not impossible. Luckily enough he didn’t make it far so you’re able to find him just on top of the metal stairs that lead to the main floor before he descends them and joins the madness.

With no other choice but to be like some haunting spirit you trail after him rather than being a part of the madness.

Every step he takes you take not so long after. Every turn he makes you do the same, and every person he shoves aside, you carefully slip past. There comes a point where he stops at a bar and shakes an unconscious man with a bright green horse mask, so you finally stop trailing after him. Instead, you pull your mask off and walk in the crowd of dancing bodies to find a way around Jun-ho.

“Dance?” A drunk man shouts and grabs your waist to try and pull you, but you shove him back harshly and snap at him while glaring at him.

“Do that again and I’ll tear your fingers off your hand to shove them up your ass.”

The man is left bewildered so he backs away, letting you disappear in the sea of bodies. And for a moment, because of the interruption, it seems like you lost sight of Jun-ho. You can’t find him again, but as you keep pushing through, you catch a glimpse of him so you run to get ahead. When you finally find an opening, you exit the crowd and stop across from him, making him come to an immediate halt as he notices right away.

You, the person who has been missing for three years. You, the woman he loves and has been searching for relentlessly. You stand there looking him in the eyes, unscathed, healthy, and just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Yet it’s because he sees you so clearly in your flowing white robes that show off glimpses of your figure when the lights flash on you, that he can’t believe it’s really you. You have to be some divine spirit brought by stress.

“Come,” you wave him over with your hand without letting go of those dark eyes that glisten with brimming tears every time the flashing light basks his face. His jaw then drops slightly and his eyebrows rise as his eyes widen with shock. You proceed to not wait and turn to start walking away.

“Wait!” You hear Jun-ho call out after you.

You peer over your shoulder and see him do just as you want; he follows you, so you lure him to an employee-only door. It is hard making sure that he doesn’t lose sight of you or that actually reaches you since there’s so many people and it’s so crowded, but you manage to stay one step ahead and reach the employee-only hallway without having him stop you.

When Jun-ho sees that you disappear in the hall, he calls out your name and turns cautious when he approaches the door, letting you rush up the stairs to position yourself just around the corner and take out your taser gun.

Jun-ho continues to be cautious when he walks inside, but as he’s climbing the stairs he breaks into a run. In doing so, turning the corner hastily and not being able to stop you from hitting his neck with your taser gun that doesn't leave his flesh until he's knocked out.

Before he can hit the ground you catch him in your arms. “I'm sorry,” you whisper as you admire his face now that you can finally be close to him again. “I had to do it, but it will be okay,” you assure him before you lean down and press a kiss on his forehead. “I promise,” you whisper one last time against his temple.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Ahhhhh xD

[saturnisfallingdown]

i think i still have wwdits fan followers … with the final season on the way i must ask…. for the LAST TIME…..

[bunnieswithknives]

I feel bad for neglecting Hazel so much, I do have many thoughts about her.. and also a mermaid au that im probably not going to do anything with

[secriden]

*cracks knuckles* Okay lets talk about the elephant in the room: Style going to the support group for those who've suffered loss and telling what appears to be a fake story about losing his pet dog.

I'm going to point out a few things that I think provide a framework for Style's actions here. Not because I think it excuses what he did, but because I think a nuanced read is what the character deserves.

Point 1: An irresistible opportunity

The subs put the "Support Group for Loss" on the image in the notebook, but I'm not sure there's anything to suggest that Style would've known that was what this image represents until he showed up and saw the sign on top of the door.

In episode 2, Bison says, "He plans everything down from years, months, weeks to days" and then tells Kant:

So Style is literally just going to addresses/locations at given days and times, potentially not knowing what to expect. And as much as Fadel is certainly attending this meeting as a response to having that heartbreaking flashback (😭), this is also something he attends regularly and has planned to attend way in advance. So Style has no reason to think Fadel is attending this meeting because of a recent resurfacing of his pain.

What we, the audience, and what the characters know are very different things.

Now, should Style have turned his cute ass right around once he realised what this meeting was? Of course he should. But that wouldn't have been true to Style's character. We've been told by his best friend that he is "crazy" and been shown repeatedly that he lives right up to that description.

Style is impulsive. He's all base instinct and he acts on his desires without thought or contemplation. And by this point he is desperate for a deeper connection with Fadel. He's fascinated, captivated by the mystery that is Fadel and this is an excellent opportunity to finally see behind the wall Fadel so carefully maintains.

When Style sees the sign above the door, Style looks at the notebook (which, again, shows nothing but people sitting in a circle with the words RISE UP) like he's just realising what it means. He then gets this amused, almost rueful look on his face (like he's thinking "am I really going to do this?") before it shifts to determination and he walks through the door.

(My soul for the ability to once again gif something because FUCK Dunk is doing SO MUCH in this show!!)

To Style, this is just too good of an opportunity to give up.

Because let's be real, Fadel is so clearly lying and hiding something:

Fadel is shady as FUCK. He is simultaneously actually a really good cook (Style finally tries his burger so he knows, now), and also has the skills to work at a strip host club, and also can take on 3 guys in a fight, and also can break a man's arm with his thighs. Can you honestly blame Style for losing his mind just a little bit about wanting to get his hands on something, anything, to figure this man out?

Style is being absolutely consistent in his persistence to understand Fadel. This isn't about the car or about finally 'winning' the fight (thank you @airenyah for giving such a detailed framework to understand what Style's been doing until this point) anymore. This is about Style wanting to know Fadel himself.

Point 2: The potential implications of the setting

Now, what might give us a bit of insight as to why Style is this way? I have a theory (albeit one that could prove to be very wrong, but hear me out). I think this whole entire show is set in what could potentially be quite a small town/suburb.

There's a few things that make this theory plausible:

(1) Fadel and Bison are in hiding after Bison blew their previous cover. They're probably on the run from some section of the authorities and so it makes sense to settle in a quiet/out of the way place.

(2) Style seems to be really familiar with the people in the area. Like he grew up there and its the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone is in everyone else's business.

(3) Style is clearly the darling of the market aunties and uncles.

Style just lost her a sale and potentially a loyal customer, and she's still rooting for him? In episode 2, when Style asks the uncle to let him borrow his cart, it takes nothing but his word for the uncle to give Style his entire cart of produce for his ridiculous scheme.

Style is so clearly someone they all know well and have great affection for, and a very plausible explanation for this is that they all watched him grow up and the entire market (town/village) is fond of him.

And honestly?? Yeah, we see the way Style is actually quite sweet in that careless, guileless, thoughtless way. He goes the extra mile to fix his mistake with Fadel by replacing his car parts for free in episode 1. He helps out by taking orders in episode 2 without being asked and takes it seriously. In episode 3, he tries to drive more business to Fadel's store (bless him, he so clearly does NOT understand how restaurants work, but he MEANS well!!), and can we all acknowledge that it works?? He understands how to appeal to potential customers in the area because he knows the people there. It's not (entirely) his fault that Fadel wasn't remotely prepared for an actual rush crowd and Bison was off getting kinky with Kant and not doing his (fake) job. He is so clear about not judging Fadel's host job and tries his hardest to help him (to absolutely NO effect, but still) when the 3 guys gang up on Fadel.

Style is so loved and more importantly so very loveable.

Point 3: What this could mean for Style's character

So, potentially, Style is someone who grew up in a small town, who has been well loved, potentially spoiled and coddled, but also very much kept within the confines of the narrow viewpoint that a quiet, country town places on you.

It's in the way his dad scolds him as if he was still a child when he's at least in his mid to late 20s. It's in the way Style was so mad at Fadel for scolding him ("thanks for the lecture, dad"), like that hit a sore point for Style. It's in the way no one in the market takes him seriously; they're fond, but he's still a kid in their eyes. It's in the way he has an abundance of free time like he doesn't REALLY need to work at his dad's shop. It's in the way he sees Fadel beat 3 guys up with ease, starts wondering if Fadel is an assassin or a hitman, and is completely unfazed like he doesn't quite have a handle on reality.

It's in the way his best friend is a man who has no qualms about lying to him and putting his life in danger, and how Style seems to have no other friends or people (aside from his dad) in his life.

@wuxian-vs-wangji made a comment to me about Style being desperate for a meaningful connection, and I think she hit the nail on the head. Because along comes Fadel, a mysterious stranger with a suspiciously versatile set of skills who is also very hot and keeps giving Style these wonderfully complex reactions? Who sometimes wants nothing to do with Style, but at other times seems to be at war within himself about desperately wanting him? Who treats Style with anything but apathy?

This is catnip to Style; he never had any hope of resisting this.

Breaking news: Style is a complex and imperfect character...

Here's the thing, though: he was never going to try. The show has been incredibly upfront about who Style is as a person. Regardless of whether I'm correct about why he is this way (ie. that he is very much the product of the environment that didn't know how to handle a kid with Style's personality), episode 3 shouldn't have surprised anyone about Style. He's been incredibly consistent and true to himself.

He wants Fadel and he's "crazy" enough to go all in, no holds barred about it, and the Support Group was the biggest doorway to finally discovering something REAL about Fadel.

And its not just about sex or to prove his superiority anymore. Because if it was just that, then Style would have reacted very differently to their first time.

In this scene, Style is pleased and evidently enjoying himself, but he isn't exuberant. He isn't overcome with joy. If anything, he was more happy and excited when Fadel let him help out in the diner (I mentioned this in the tags in this post too) than he was when Fadel is literally fucking him. He lets Fadel set the pace; barely moves to touch Fadel except to hold him close. Almost like he doesn't want to accidentally mess this up, like he's worried he'll take too much, so he'll take what Fadel gives him and no more (please appreciate @braceletofteeth's amazing tags on this post). For a character that has been so aggressively on the offensive, this is shocking until you realise that sleeping with Fadel - while it's a step in the right direction - isn't Style's end goal anymore.

And he makes that abundantly clear in this episode:

Does Style even fully realise the weight of this desire? I doubt it. But I do believe that Style is in earnest. He doesn't fully understand his own feelings, but he also doesn't really care to either. All he knows is that he wants Fadel, wants his attention and his passion and his focus and his heart.

...but Style is also kind of, sort of, perfect.

Because he's exactly, precisely, breathtakingly exactly what Fadel needs.

Because Fadel is hurt and broken and bleeding inside. Because Fadel is barely holding it all together for Bison's sake, but has already given up hope for any true happiness for himself. Because Fadel can't trust anyone or anything in his life, when he's been used and used and used by the family who should've loved and cared and protected him.

Because it's going to take nothing short of this kind of unwavering, unshakable, uncomplicated determination to give Fadel even a chance of healing and opening his heart to love again.

[camgoloud]

he still has his tonsils. by the way if you even care

[moonpaw]

Fighting DEMONS rn trying not to get invested in one piece to figure out wtf you're posting about!!!!

come here cyber.... we have this thang

‎

[comradecowplant]

I don't follow blogs ran by people being racist about rap so I'm only witnessing the secondhand responses to the recent "discourse" and sadly 'tumblrinas being racist about their bad taste in music & low lyrical literacy' is exactly what I'd put on my 2024 bingo card for this steadily declining shithole....

[channiesbakery]

yapper —

prompt / request — "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry."

pairing — reader + boyfriend!dino

word count — 561

genre — fluff

you and chan have a nightly routine that you liked to follow. you’d get ready for bed, freshening up and changing into comfy clothes before crawling into bed together.

you’d both have your nightly tik tok scroll— well, you’d scroll on your phone while chan watched along with you, questioning you about a current trend every few videos.

“what do you mean peeling an orange is a sign of love?” he questions when he sees the videos of people asking their significant others to peel oranges for them.

you explain the trend for him before he somewhat seems to understand. “I’d peel a hundred oranges for you,” chan says, kissing the top of your head before he’s silent for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

“you okay?” you turn back to face him. “i wonder if my hyungs would peel an orange for me…” he mumbled mostly to himself.

it’s not long before you end up on seventeen tik tok, seeing all the edits and fancams.

“aw look at kwannie,” you show him the cute fancam. “why are you, my girlfriend, watching a seungkwan fancam and not one of your boyfriend?” chan scoffs before grabbing your phone to look for fancams of himself, making sure to give all of them likes.

after ending up on a weird side of tik tok, you decide that’s enough social media for the night, shutting off your phone and turning off all the lights.

chan’s chest is pressed against your back, his arm loosely around your waist as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

you always knew your boyfriend was a bit of a yapper, but his need for conversation just seemed to increase every time you’re about to fall asleep.

“do you think i should create a new character for the next gose episode?” he asks. “baby, i think you have more than enough alter egos.” you tell him, shutting your eyes and trying to fall asleep.

but the silence doesn’t last long before he’s starting another topic.

“would you love me if i was a worm– i could probably do the worm so much better if i was actually a worm.”

“that new cafe just opened in the city, we should go this weekend. i heard their matcha lattes are amazing.”

“do you think i should start a new hobby? maybe knitting… shua has all his crafty hobbies, maybe knitting could be mine.”

“actually… it seems like it takes too much patience and what if i stab my eye…”

“do you ever wonder why people count sheep and not other animals? like why not count chickens?”

you only mumble short responses to him as he switches topics nearly every other sentence.

he finally goes silent and you’re just about to finally drift off to sleep when chan speaks up once again. “are you still awake?” he whispers.

“no,” you grumble tiredly. “oh okay,” he replies and you think he’s finally going to go to sleep until you hear his soft voice again.

“hey baby?” he says softly and you just hum in response. “i love you,” chan mumbles against your hair.

“i love you too channie, but if you don’t stop yapping I’m kicking you out of bed and you’re sleeping on the couch.” you threaten.

[moonslitmuse]

when cait said "viktor's at the centre of all this isnt he?" i dont think we all understood how much "all this" was to jayce. to the viewers in the moment and everyone else in the room, "all this" meant the ongoing battle. to jayce, "all this" meant everything in his life up until this very moment.

viktor was the reason he became obsessed with magic, viktor was the reason he and his mother survived, viktor was the one who saved him from jumping, viktor was the one who had faith in him and helped figure out hextech, essentially giving him another chance in life.  AGAIN.  jayce's affection for viktor is what causes him to revive viktor with the hexcore, his promise to the older, future viktor is what brings him home with a renewed determination to get his partner back.

his entire life has revolved around viktor and he didn't even know it.

how do you think he felt learning that his "first" meeting back in s1e1 was in fact, destined to be? to learn that in every timeline and in every possibility, he and viktor will always find each other.

so to jayce, it was always viktor at the core of it all, and still is.

+++

fun fact: in this scene, right after cait mentions viktor, jayce's pupils dilate.

then his memories show us a viktor that is much softer and even presents with a smile, which was NOT what we saw in the actual episode!

cr reyenii

and note: this is the viktor that jayce saw right before killing him with his hammer. imagine just how gut-wrenched he felt in that moment.

[withahappyrefrain]

Unraveled- Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob Floyd likes to think he can keep it cool. Then along comes a sundress.

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, so much pining, language,

Bob Floyd didn't like to brag, but he considered himself pretty dang smart and sensible. 

He knew the ins and outs of every jet he has flown. Hell,  he could break it apart and put it back together again within a few hours, if that.  He was able to quickly assess a situation, weigh the pros and cons, and come to a sound decision. It’s why he was the top WSO for the mission in Miramar. 

So why has a piece of fabric thrown him for such a loop? 

All Bob was trying to do was be polite. You had mentioned taking an Uber to the Hard Deck tonight and Bob knew the polite thing to do was to offer a ride. After all, he wasn't going to drink. You would save money. It's what any good friend would do. It had absolutely nothing to do with the crush he had been harboring since your first debriefing. 

He was just trying to be courteous. The gentleman his Mama worked hard in raising. Getting to spend time with you, without the other members of your shared squadron around or loud music, wasn't even near the forefront of his mind when he made the offer. Bob was just trying to be a good friend. A good friend who just wanted to help. A good friend who was forcing himself to look at you through a platonic lens, not a romantic one. 

Bob liked to think he was doing pretty well at that. 

That is, until a dress came along and unraveled him. 

Perhaps you said hello when you opened the door.  You probably did, considering how polite you were. But all Bob could focus on was the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves. 

And what little fabric there was. He had seen you in civilian clothes before. But never anything like this. His mind absolutely went blank when you hugged him and he could feel how much of your bare skin was exposed. Due to the halter style of the straps, nearly your whole upper back was now perfectly visible.

“Um you-you look um nice,” Bob barely got out. He was too busy trying to burn the feeling of your soft skin into his brain. You were warm, like a walking ray of sunshine. 

“Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. Bob tried to focus on the pattern of dress; how the green brought out your eyes. 

But all he could focus on was the curves of your body, now being highlighted. The way the halter style made your breasts swell and the lack of a bra very apparent. How the fabric stopped at the top of your thighs when you spun, giving Bob a peek of what he often thought about late at night. 

This was bad. 

“I take it you came early to watch an episode of Love Island before we leave?” You asked as he stumbled walked in.

The truth was, Bob wasn’t a fan of reality TV. But he watched because it gave the two of you a chance to talk to one another. Just as friends, nothing more. When watching the silly show, you two could make jokes, talk about things other than work. 

“Yeah! Ready to watch hot people make poor decisions again,” Bob said with a nervous laugh. The joke failed to put him at ease. If anything, it reminded him that he was about to spend at least forty minutes with you and that did not include the drive to the Hard Deck. 

“You’re using my tagline!” your smile lit up your whole face. Bob was certain it could light up the whole turmac. All he could do was nod, his heart fluttering when you grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room. 

"I have some kettle corn in the microwave for you! I also made cherry seltzer water!" Bob could feel heat rush to his face. You always remembered the little details that no one else seemed to pick up on; that he loved salt but had an even bigger sweet tooth. How in an attempt to cut back on soda, he switched to sparkling water. His favorite flavor was cherry because it reminded him of cherry coke. 

"Did you see the video I sent you?" You gently squeezed Bob's hand as you two sat down. 

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." Ever since learning about Bob's favorite animal, you had sent him every otter-related video you came across while scrolling the internet. You even got him a pair of Otter socks for his birthday.  It was the fact you paid attention to seemingly minor details that made Bob fall head over heels for you. 

But alas, you were a coworker. The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. After all, there were only so many things you could do on a ship before switching to people. No, it was the potential issues that came with dating. Rejection being the main one. Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. What worried him was rejection. Having to go to work everyday and put on a facade, that things were fine. When deep down, he knew he'd be heartbroken. And even worse, he'd no longer have your friendship. 

So Bob settled, as he often did when it came to love. He took comfort knowing he'd still have you, albeit as a friend instead of a partner. That should be more than enough. For the last few months, he had convinced himself that it was enough. 

But God was it difficult when you bent over right to grab the remote. 

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and- 

he could see the swell of your ass. He could see the flash of red lace. Your skin looked so soft and supple and you were so close he could just reach out and- 

Oh God he was hard. Oh no. 

This was bad. Worse than that time he popped an erection during sex ed in middle school. There, he at least had a jacket and a desk to cover it. 

But here? He was a full grown adult and San Diego’s seventy degree weather didn't give him any additional layers. Bob looked around, desperate for something, anything, to hide his cock that was currently straining against his jeans. 

Thank fuck for your love of decorative pillows. 

He grabbed the closest one, shaped and designed like a pomegranate. You were so excited the day you picked it up from some Facebook Marketplace deal. He had driven you, partly out of wanting to spend time with you, partly because he wanted to ensure you were safe. It was adorable and definitely shouldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, such as hiding a boner. This was wrong, so fucking wrong.   

Bob was trying to think of anything and everything that would kill this boner. But his spot on the couch aligned perfectly with the entranceway of the kitchen, where you currently were, rummaging around to fix Bob a drink. 

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. Every time he tried to think of something, you were right in his line of view, turning every thought into something more devious. 

His family? His family would love you. If you two got married you could make  your own family. 

Work? You worked with him, in that damn flight suit that clung to your every curve. No one else could make that god forsaken green fabric look good.  

School? God, you were so smart. The top of your class. And witty, always ready with a clever, underhanded comeback. It’s how you two originally bonded, both having muttered something about Jake under your breath. 

Bob Floyd was screwed. Thoroughly. 

He tried to comfort himself with the fact that soon you two would be watching people in their early twenties making the dumbest decisions over dating. If anything were to be a boner killer, that had to be it. He just needed to make it through then. 

“Bob?” Your lithe voice broke him out of his thoughts. Not that it was much of a reprieve, with the way you were standing at the kitchen entranceway with a glass of sparkling water in each hand, “You good?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He said with an all too eager nod, desperate to convince you this was truly the case. Fuck, you were so beautiful. And you were showing so much skin. He had seen you on the beach before, adorned in athletic shorts and a sports bra. But this was different. 

The dress was far too nice for the Hard Deck. No, you deserved to be taken to a nice restaurant, one with a lovely outdoor patio. The image of you sitting on a lovely chair with a glass of wine in your hand came easily to Bob. It was also the perfect dress for a picnic, particularly at the nearby park, specifically in that little secluded area. God, the idea of you laying down on a red and white checkered blanket, the hem of your dress pushed up your thighs as he leaned over you, ready to take you-

Bob leaned forward, clutching the pillow as he tried to will himself the strength to get it together. 

“Bob? Are-are you okay?” You quickly placed the drinks down on the coffee table, rushing over to kneel in front of him on the couch. 

Oh what a sight that was, you looking up at him with big eyes, full of concern. Your hands were on his biceps, and Bob knew if he looked down he would have the perfect view of your breasts. 

 It was so hot and also the very last thing Bob fucking needed. 

“I’m good. Stomach doesn’t agree with what we had for lunch, that’s all.” Lying was never good, his mother instilled that in him at an early age. But in this scenario, Bob was certain the truth was much worse. 

“I’ll go get you a ginger ale!” Bob opened his mouth to protest, though no words came out due to seeing not only the tops of your thighs, but a flash of your ass as you spun around to go back into the kitchen. 

For a few seconds, the  supple, plump flesh was so close to him. Practically within arm’s reach. 

Maybe he should just leave while you were in the kitchen. 

But that would be rude. Not only rude, but it would raise your suspicions if they weren’t high already. Plus, he had already promised you a ride to the Hard Deck. He couldn’t just leave you hanging, not after you brought a dress for the occasion. He may be in dire need of a cold shower, but the last thing Bob Floyd was going to do was hurt you. He squeezed the pillow, knuckles turning white as he tried to find strength. For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point. 

“Here ya go,” You sat down on the couch next to him, glass of ginger ale in hand. You even remembered how much ice he preferred in his cold beverages. You were perfect. 

“Thanks,” Bob slowly took one hand off the pillow, the other still holding onto it for dear life. 

“You uh, like that pillow?” You chuckled, though your nerves still shined through. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Bob looked down, ensuring his big problem was still covered, “It uh, helps my stomach!”

You raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t further question it. Instead, much to Bob’s delight, you reached for the remote, clicking through until you finally landed on the desired episode. With a shaking hand, Bob gulped down the ginger ale, promptly placing it on the coffee table so he could have both hands on the pillow. 

The room was silent, saved for the ridiculous conversations happening on the TV screen. Normally you and Bob would be shoulder to shoulder, laughing as you both narrated your opinions on the contestants. But today Bob was rigid, his fingers still clutching to the pillow on his lap. He hadn’t even touched the bowl of popcorn. 

"Do you like my dress?" It took everything in Bob not to groan at your question. The last thing he needed was a reason to look at you. But how could he deny himself such a chance? So he put on his best smile as he turned to face you.    

"Uh yeah it's lovely. I'm sure everyone will love it-" 

"I got it for you.” Your voice was soft as you hit the pause button on your remote, eyes remaining on the screen. 

The words hit Bob like a freight train. 

"What? Why would you-"

You shrugged, fingers toying with the short hem of your dress, "I thought maybe, if you saw me in something different, something that wasn't my flight suit or a tee shirt, that maybe you would finally notice me?” 

You finally looked him in the eyes, “Maybe you'd finally notice that I've been trying to flirt with you for the last few months?" 

Bob opened his mouth just to promptly close it. He thought back to the last few months, now analyzing every seemingly ordinary interaction he had with you. 

The way you insisted on sitting next to each other during lunch. As well as during briefings. And when you went to the Hard Deck. Whenever a guy tried to flirt with you there, you turned them down, focusing your attention back on him, continuing your conversation about his latest D&D campaign or a Lego set you had found that reminded you of him. The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. The little trinkets you’d bring him. 

Oh god, he was a fucking idiot. 

The tension in the room was thick. You, sitting restlessly as you waited for Bob to acknowledge what you had said. Bob, processing your words and what they meant. 

“How long?” Bob asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You chuckled as you shook your head, “Honestly? First day. We hadn’t even spoken yet. I saw you walk in and you just were….not only handsome but also looked so kind? Then you offered me a spare pencil, made that comment about Jake’s driving and I….was a goner.”

“I saw you talking to Halo before the briefing room was open,” He confessed, “She said something that made you laugh and it….it was the prettiest sight I had ever seen.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, huh?” You both stared ahead at the TV, still too fearful to face each other. 

Bob dryly chuckled, “Yeah….a lot of time. Months, if we’re being more exact.” 

The two of you remained in silence, your words sinking in. Neither sure what should be said, if anything should be said. Until finally, you spoke up. 

“Bob? What’s underneath the pillow?” 

His hips shifted, involuntary, “What?” For a moment, he forgot about the darn pillow and the erection he was covering with it. 

The cluelessness in his voice brought a giggle, “The pillow? Why are you using it to cover your lap?”

Bob sighed, “Can I at least kiss you first?” 

You nodded, moving to close the gap between you and Bob. Pillow be damned, his hands cupped your jawline, giving you a sweet smile before leaning in, closing the gap between your lips and his. 

Bob Floyd’s lips were soft, no doubt due to the sweet mint chapstick you'd watch him apply countless of times. You didn't want to admit how often you'd wondered about the taste, what his hands would feel like on your body. God, they were huge. His thumbs rested comfortably on your jawline, but you could feel his other fingers spanning your neck, down to your collarbone. 

The first kiss was gentle, practically modest. Your lips were only apart for several seconds, if that, before connecting again. 

You easily found his shoulders, grasping them for purchase. The gap between your bodies was too much, Bob wanted to be as close as possible. So his hands trailed down your body, skimming along until they found the back of your thighs. Using his strength, he moved your body, situating you onto his lap. 

A high pitched gasp fell from your lips upon feeling the bulge that was straining against his jeans. Good god, he was thick. You had heard whispers, chalking it up to typical locker room talk. 

Nope, those rumors were one hundred percent true. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob groaned, hands exploring your soft curves. Worst of all, he sounded earnest, only making you want to touch him more. 

“I-I wore this on purpose ah-after all,” you confessed, finding it difficult to speak as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your exposed chest. 

Right. You wore this on purpose. To entice him. To see if perhaps he felt the same burning desire. Once realization hit him again, Bob’s hands moved along your back, just stopping above your ass. 

Wait, he was about to touch your ass. 

“We-we shouldn’t,” Bob mumbled, retracting his hands from your body. You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face. 

“We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. Had regret finally emerged, beating the rush of adrenaline? Was he going to regret this, ask that you two never speak about it ever again, pretend it never happened?

“I…” Bob sighed, “I need to take you on a date first.”

Bless his heart. 

Sighing, you relaxed your body into his, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “You’re too sweet, y’know that?”

Bob chuckled, “That's supposed to be my line.” 

His hands gave your hips a loving squeeze, causing you to nestle further into him, until your bodies were nearly molded as one. Your lips searched for his, trailing up his neck, his jawline, along the side of his button nose until finally reaching his soft lips. Bob shifted in his seat, causing you to do the same. As a result, you could feel his erection, despite the layers of clothes. 

“Good lord Bobby, you've just been walking around with all that?” Bob groaned, but not due to your words. No, it was because you had started moving your hips in circles, his erection now pressed against your covered core. 

“I’m- I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Bob couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to stop. He should stop. Maybe you two could skip the Hard Deck and go out to dinner. Then he could take you home and not feel as guilty. 

“You can be a gentleman later,” by throwing your arms over his shoulder you finally had access to his neck. His skin was so soft, so delicate. How could you not sink your teeth into his neck? 

Normally you'd have better self control than this. But you were ovulating and had six months of sexual frustrations and wet dreams- 

“You had dreams about me?” Uh-oh. That wasn't meant to be said out loud. Granted, maybe it was for the best to get everything out in the open. 

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.” 

A band had snapped within Bob, no doubt due to the numerous times you didn't sit next to him during briefings. 

Within seconds, you found yourself on your back against the couch, the bespectacled WSO hovering over you. There was a fire flickering in his blue eyes as he remained laser focused on your face. 

“After this, you're putting this dress back on and I'm taking ya out to dinner, is that clear?” his voice was gruff and deep, similar to when he did a hundred pushes that one day (that you definitely didn't think about while masturbating). 

Chest heaving, dress pushed up to your upper thighs, lips kiss bitten, God, you looked like an angel to Bob. He remembered learning about angels in church growing up. How pious they were, that seeing them was a sign of comfort, that they would guide one to safety, to a holy life. 

There was nothing holy about what he wanted to do to you. 

His mouth was hot, searing kisses along your skin. Your back arched into him, desperate for me. But he always seemed to pull away before you could get enough. Would you? Ever get enough of Bob Floyd? 

Finding an answer would have to wait, for now you wanted to relish in the feeling of Bob’s hands kneading your breasts. It was obvious you weren't wearing a bra, a fact Bob ob had spent forty minutes trying not to think about. He still felt a smidge of guilt, as though the newly drawn line between friends and more hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Was he even supposed to be doing this?

“You can keep going. I want you to.” You sensed his hesitation. In all the time you knew Bob, he had never taken someone home for a one night stand. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to build a connection, to feel comfortable enough to be himself. That’s why he loved spending time with you. With you, there was no need to put up a front, no need to be fearful of judgement. 

“And then afterwards, we can order some Thai food and continue watching the episode, if you want. Or we can just do that now,” your hands cradled his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you. He found a sweet, reassuring smile, similar to the one that made him smitten six months ago. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Bob could be blunt, and often was when it came to his colleague’s shenanigans. But with his own feelings? He always chose his words carefully. 

Hence why his admission took you some time to process. Bob could see it on your face; first your eyes widened, lips slightly parting as if driven by the need to respond immediately. But then your lips closed, your brain quickly gaining back self control. 

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy, that gave him the courage to move his hands to your hemline up to your hips, revealing the thin, lacy red fabric underneath. 

You were breathtaking. Always were. But this? This solidified things for Bob. You two had made a step forward in your relationship. Many things would still be the same. But there were now new things to experience. Simply another layer of intimacy had been added.

His long fingers skimmed over the fabric of your panties, every touch sending a spark of electricity along your spine. Every stroke caused a small gasp to fall from your lips, music to Bob’s ears. Lowering himself, Bob decorated your hips with opened mouth kisses. Finally, gaining enough courage, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. 

Fuck, you were wet. 

If there was any hesitation left in Bob, it died upon seeing how visibly aroused you were. He had done that. No one else. Lowering himself even more, he was now at eye level with your wet cunt. This wasn’t some vivid wet dream. 

When his touch licked a broad stripe up your slit, a broken moan fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. It was the prettiest sound Bob had heard. He wanted to hear it again. All the time. 

With more confidence, Bob begins lapping up your arousal, determined to taste every inch of you. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. Looking down, you see his glasses are now crooked, though you highly doubt Bob cares, given how his eyes are half closed in pleasure. 

Wait, was he grinding against the couch? 

The discovery caused your thighs to clamp over Bob’s ears, your hips thrusting upwards to get more of his talented tongue. Bob wasn't reserved around you, never had been. But this was a new side to him that you had wondered if it ever existed. Animalistic. Devouring. Loud. 

His groans vibrate against your core, only heightening the pleasure. Slowly, his right hand goes from your hips to your core, mouth moving to your clit as the long digits trace your opening. 

“Oh my God, please,” you all but beg, not quite ready to admit how often you thought about his fingers and how they would feel inside of you.

Always thinking about your comfort, Bob started off with just one finger. You tried to fuck yourself with it, your own fingers gripping the soft strands of his hair for better leverage. The thought of making you beg crossed Bob’s mind. Would you like that? Would you be open to that? There were so many new topics to discuss, so many new boundaries to explore now. 

You happily welcomed the stretch of two, three fingers. Bob found the little moans you let out to be quite adorable. He could feel his cock throb against his jeans, but pleasing you took priority. 

“C’mon honey. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His voice was low, husky even. 

“C-can you be inside me? Like your…your cock?” A broken groan fell from Bob’s lips at the very thought of being inside of you. 

“I don't….I don't think I'll last long,” he admitted sheepishly. Hell, he could probably come just from eating you out. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it sounded pretty good- bringing himself to the height of pleasure just from ravishing you. 

“I don't think I will either,” you giggled, “But we’ll….we have lots of other times to go slow.” 

Bob helped you sit up on the couch. “You wanna go to the bedroom?” He asked, thinking about how this could be more comfortable for you. 

Instead, you shook your head, hands moving to his jeans, hastily undoing the buttons. 

Now it was your turn to explore, to discover. There was a dark trail of hair that went past the waistband of his jeans. He wore boxer briefs. And Bob Floyd had the prettiest cock. 

His face turned bright red at the compliment, “Oh it's…I mean it's like fine, but it's not-” 

“Take the damn compliment Robert,” you all but scolded, eliciting a laugh from him, your favorite. The high pitch, near giggle one. The one that made your heart flutter. 

Feeling at ease, you moved so that you were hovering over Bob’s lap. Your fingers moved to the base of his cock, making you realize you would have to ease yourself into it. 

“I gotcha,” his hands found your hips, slowly easing you down. His sapphire eyes never left your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. He went slow, waiting until you made it vocally known you were ready for more. 

By the time you reached the base of Bob’s cock, you were a mess. You wanted him to move, to fuck you within an inch of your life. But he was also so big. The stretch was nothing you had experienced before. 

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” he assured you, as though he could sense your internal conflict. His lips found yours, and in that kiss you found comfort. Bob grounded you, always had, whether it was up in the air or right here on your couch. 

How much time had passed, who was to say? You could recall both your phones vibrating a few times, no doubt messages from the rest of your squad. Those messages could wait. 

“I think I'm ready,” you whispered against Bob’s lips. He needed, digging his fingers into your hips to gain a better grip. With his help, you lifted yourself no more than a couple of inches off his cock, returning to the base. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Bob moaned. You just made Bob Floyd curse. Something not even a bird strike could do. That four letter word gave you the confidence to lift your hips up on your own accord, returning swiftly. Slowly, just an inch or two, which became several inches. Up and down motions turned to swiveling your hips in a circular rhythm. What was once a quiet living room, saved for a few small gasps and the static from the TV, had now become a symphony of melodic pants and groans. 

Bob could tell you were close. Your pussy was tightening around his cock more and more, your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, as if trying to anchor yourself. You practically whined at the sight of Bob taking two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. He lowered them to where your bodies connected. 

Upon first contact with your clit, your head dropped to the crook of his neck, unabashedly moaning his name, hips moving in a now frantic motion. 

“That's it, I gotcha.” Fuck, we he going to talk you through it? Was Bob Floyd a talker? Ironic, considering at work he was known as a man of few words. 

“Feels s’good, being inside ya.” Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed, “Wanna, wanna make us cum. Bet ya gonna feel even better when ya soak- fuck- soak my cock.” 

Your brain was hazy. Was this real? If it was a vivid wet dream, you never wanted to wake up. Was it wrong to hope that you were in a medically induced coma, so that if this  was indeed a dream, you wouldn’t have to wake up so soon? Surely, your friends and family would understand upon meeting Bob. 

Then he pointedly thrusted his hips upwards, reminding you that no, this wasn’t a dream. No, you wouldn’t wake up feeling frustrated and unable to look him in the eye. After this, you two could go out to eat, on a real date. Not some hey let’s get dinner that feels like a date in everything except in name. You could also order delivery and cuddle up on the couch. Maybe you could even shower with him beforehand, and see his bare body, find out what was truly hiding underneath that flight suit. Oh, he was deceptively strong, you always knew that. But to see it, to feel the hard planes of his muscles? Oh, that would be quite the joy to experience. 

“Sweet girl,” you clenched at that nickname, you wanted him to continue calling you that for eternity, “Let go. Know ya want it.”

“I-I do,” you all but whined. Bob found the noise cute. What other sounds did you make? What would you sound like if he kept fucking you after you came? What about if he ate you out for hours? Or teased you until you were teetering on the edge?

There were so many questions, so many areas to explore. But for now, Bob was satisfied with experiencing how tightly you clenched his cock, how you practically sang his name as you came. Your release triggered his, pulling your hips down until they were flushed against his. His lips smashed against yours, swallowing your moans. 

Then there was silence. No words spoken. Only the sounds of panting, you both clearly trying to catch your breath, and kisses exchanged, ones that neither of you could resist giving. 

Realization hits you like a freight train. “I’m on birth control.”

Bob’s eyes widened, “Oh thank God.” He was usually so good about asking, about pulling out. But you….you made his brain feel like cotton. 

“You saying you don’t want to have kids with me?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek to let him know you were only saying it in jest. 

“Not yet.” You sat up to find he had an earnest smile on his face, cheeks rosy and eyes shining in adornment. 

Bob Floyd was going to be the death of you. 

So you brushed several strands of sandy brown hair off of his forehead, replacing them with a kiss, "Gotta get me a ring first."

Luckily, you were going to be the death of Bob Floyd.

[johanna-swann]

I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.

Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.

Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.

Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.

Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.

Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.

Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]

And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.

Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.

And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)

Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.

But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.

They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.

Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.

And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.

What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.

But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.

Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.

[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]

I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[ssahotchnerr]

public displays of affection - aaron hotchner x reader

the aaron take on the derek/penelope workplace seminar (episode of reference: 9x12)

cw; bau!reader, established relationship, suggestiveness, small allusions to sex, fluff <3, bau family banter, aaron being mortified😭, references to the episode wc; 1.4k

"penny," you shut one of your files, placing it in your desktop organizer. "you're creating a draft."

"this is bad. oh so very very bad." she stammered, continuing to pace back and forth, "i'm just mentally preparing myself to be humiliated in front of the entire unit. for the second time, may i add. god, who blabbed this time?

"what did you even do?" spencer chimed in, his head lifting from his current read.

"i don't know." she exclaimed, an exasperated breath leaving her. "nothing out of the ordinary, so that means anything is possible. you," she pointed at morgan, who casually was making his way over to the rest of you. "we're in big trouble."

"this could be totally unrelated." jj reassured her. you agreed, giving penelope a nod and a hopeful smile. "there was no footnote on what this meeting consisted of."

"well, there was no footnote last time. and to this day, i still get asked what flarpy blunderguff means." she huffed, crossing her arms and turning towards derek. "i love you my hunk of a man, but this. this is a nightmare."

as two began rolling around, the bullpen filled in anticipation for the seminar, a light hum in the room as conversations were exchanged back and forth in waiting.

in addition, a presence soon stilled beside you. one always familiar, but surprising under the current circumstances.

"what are you doing here?" you looked up to find aaron's gentle eyes. he took a seat on the edge of your desk, just behind your chair.

meetings like these - usually below aaron's pay grade. he hadn't needed to attend the last, infamous meeting for instance, HR meetings were normally things he had prior knowledge of, or simply not worth his valuable time as unit chief.

"i got the email as well." aaron's hand found the back of your neck, his fingers comfortably kneading into your always-tense muscles. every so often, his hand would brush to your shoulder, and then back again.

"oh no," penelope slapped onto derek's arm, the smack covered up by slim buzz within the vicinity. "what did we do?"

"looks like we're about to find out." dave stated, his eyes following the woman who had just entered the bullpen, moving to the front.

the notorious HR lady of the bureau, nancy, sauntered over to the large presentation screen set before the clusters of desks. not wasting a second to get down to business, she turned toward the crowd of eager agents.

"thank you all for your attendance and time, this shouldn't take too long." she started, poised and head held high.

penelope took a deep breath.

"this afternoon's presentation," nancy clicked a button on her remote, displaying the title page. "public displays of affection."

oh no.

aaron's hand, which had continued to smooth out the stiffness in your neck, halted immediately.

"as you all- most are well and should be aware, keeping conduct professional in the workplace is a must to prevent disruptions within the environment. displays of affection - examples upcoming - can cause extreme feelings of uncomfortableness amongst your colleagues, and can be distracting nonetheless. all of which, creates a...."

just as last time, she clicked her remote. and adjacent to penelope and derek's presentation, in big letters across the top:

"hostile work environment."

derek immediately snorted under his breath, inviting others to openly laugh as well. despite the urge to shoot daggers at him, you were utterly incapable of pulling your attention away from the front.

it wasn't a top secret ordeal - everyone could infer the pair this presentation was centered around, and be correct.

"and so," nancy exhaled a breath, her eyes darting in your and aaron's shared direction for a smidge second, causing the heat to grow in your face and body. "i urge everyone to refrain from the following,"

similar to yours, aaron's face burned, comparable in color to his tie. he let out a nearly inaudible, nervous cough from above you.

"sitting on one's lap, while working on caseloads - not appropriate."

more laughter rippled through the division.

"oh god." you mumbled under your breath, uncomfortably crossing a leg over the other as your palm covered the bottom half of your face.

contrary to the present belief, aaron was a stickler on pda.

for the first few months of your relationship, he hadn't dared to touch your arm, back, anything in order to maintain such affection within the field; it was reserved for closed doors at home only. he loved you, but he wanted to uphold his reputable professional nature.

but as time moved forward and your relationship progressed, he hadn't gotten sloppy, per se, but more relaxed or lenient was a better way to put it.

some displays were accidental by habit. if he wanted to give you a quick peck, depending on the situation and setting, he would. seated beside each other, he would lovingly squeeze your thigh under the table, if you needed the encouragement or if you made him proud in some regard. if he were feeling frisky one day - sure he would do something, just to rile you up for later, to each of your benefit. so on and so forth.

and if he was initiating affection, you took that as the all-clear to do the same. in variation, of course.

so more often than not, it was in private. just not... always. and the lock on aaron's office door often came in handy for that.

"prolonged kisses in the bullpen, elevator, not appropriate."

once. you were caught once in a (very) heated kiss in the elevator.

as you and aaron cowered in embarrassment, both dave and morgan looked far too amused for their own good. the rest of the team - raised, entertained eyebrows, tossing glances to one another while trying to constrain their laughter.

nancy swallowed, as if she needed strength to deliver the next point, "grabbing one's behind when going up the stairs, not appropriate."

another mortified cough exited aaron.

she went on, giving more examples of affection aaron and you were completely guilty of. and if just one singular time wasn't enough, she went-forth on the explanation that such displays can cause a barrier within the workplace.

when you thought it would never cease, nancy finally delivered her ending statement, "save it for home people, thank you."

and with that, as well as the screen darkening, everyone disbanded, low murmurs and chuckles filling the room as each went about their usual routine.

you looked up at aaron in absolute horror, whose face was currently in his hand. but even that didn't hide the blush brewing within his face, his ears flushed wildly as well.

you reached up, grabbing his wrist to pry his hand away.

"nuh uh uh," derek grinned as he wiggled his index finger at the two of you, imitating nancy to a tee. "not appropriate."

"you hush." you got to your feet, allowing you to remove his hand more easily. you cautiously prolonged your hold, brushing your thumb across his knuckles before letting it drop. "aaron?"

his brown eyes found yours, full of embarrassment. "that was..."

"humiliating?"

he nodded, his head accelerating in speed with each nod, "yeah. that's the term i would use."

"oh you poor dears." penelope breathed out, the one compassionate member of the team.

"damn." emily chuckled.

derek cackled again, clearly not ready to let this go. honestly, he probably never would. "thought we didn't notice when you pulled the blinds in the office, did ya?"

aaron gave him a pointed glare, putting a very quick end to the conversation. just as the rest, the team carried on with their remaining work for the day - you and aaron remaining frozen in place.

but surprisingly enough, a laugh did escape him, shaking through his chest. "guess i have to tone it down a little, huh?"

"oh thank god," you blurted out and exhaled in relief, a small smile forming on your lips. "i thought this would cause an avoidance arrangement or something." you teased - partially.

"of course not. some reservation, maybe, but not avoidance." aaron laughed quietly again, a sigh escaping him.

"that was bad, wasn't it?" a slightly pinched expression took form on your face, your cheeks tinting once more.

"it wasn't... good." aaron admitted with some hesitation, but his brown eyes still glowed despite the lines of troublesome. his hand found yours - after scanning that no one was paying attention to the two of you - giving it a squeeze. "but hey, out of problems to have, i'd take showing my love for you any day."

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Ken "Okarun" Takakura relationship headcanons

warnings: established relationship, fem!reader, tooth-rooting fluff, spoilers up to episode 8 in the anime.

divider by @cafekitsune

Ken “Okarun” Takakura is a socially awkward guy with an all-consuming interest in anything related to the supernatural, especially cryptids and aliens. Some people may think he is too much to handle because he’s a nerd or his appearance is a little off-putting, but he’s used to that after being bullied throughout elementary and middle school. He can handle the taunting, the jeers. It’s nothing new to him.

But when he hears a nasty rumor being spread around school about you, his precious girlfriend? Momo is going to have a hard time keeping him calm and will definitely drag you away from class as a last resort to revert the transformation into his yokai form. Good luck with handling an extremely overprotective boyfriend, especially if you unintentionally get caught in the crossfire of whichever ghost or alien are targeting him for his reproductive organs.

He doesn’t know why everyone is after his junk, so please do not ask him that question.

You are important to Okarun, so his happiness is your happiness. He’s not really a person who would do over-the-top gestures just to make you smile, though he shows his affection for you in the small things like leaving little snacks on your assigned desk or waiting to walk home with you once classes are over for the day.

Physical intimacy with him is going to be like a slow-burn in those romance novels, so please respect his boundaries and decision to relish in the feeling of your interlocked fingers or sharing kisses on the cheek before going into the heavier stuff. He’s shy and wants to do things the right way, even when every relationship is different for everyone. If you start something instead of him for a change? His face will resemble a ripe cherry, and smoke will come out of his ears before squeaking in embarrassment.

Cuddles? Definitely possible, but much further down the road once he gets more comfortable in the relationship.

He’s the guy who doesn’t mind doing an X-Files or horror movie marathon on the couch with you and it counts as a date. Any time with you is precious.

You have a part-time job? No worries, he’ll be more than happy to wait until you get off if you’re working late to walk you home!

Okarun trusts you, and he hopes you will trust him. Communication is also key, so if there is something bothering you, please tell him. He won’t know unless you say something, and you avoiding or giving him the silent treatment will have him second-guessing and thinking he really isn’t good enough for you. He’s a green flag. Seriously, talk to the guy if you got troubles on your mind. He will listen and not judge you.

Remember what happened when Aira tried to kiss him in the school courtyard during lunch and he pushed her away? He did it once, and will gladly do it again to her, to any girl who tries to make a move on him because he doesn’t want them. He wants only you.

Treasure this cinnamon roll and treat him like the amazing person he is, because there is no other guy around who would fight yokai and aliens to protect you like Ken Takakura.

Taglist: @hoodiepandaninja16 @napbatata @silverklaus @karai-frost @anonymity-222 @melodiblues @myduality @cumbersome-robes @taesy-miranda-lee @osarumi @satorousgf @theofficialfem @sadprimrose @miaurieee @bumblebeebutter @shidousprincess @minnie-1-3 @cherie-soup @kazudare @sleep-all-day-everyday @decay-1 @justamegafan @bdudette @skwunkler

[tittyinfinity]

Amazing! Glorious! Spectacular! Wonderful! Doo-diddly-awesome!

Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). hurt+comfort. two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. fluff. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

[hairmetal666]

There's a boy, Eddie meets a boy, and it's mundane because they're boys and it's summer and they find each other like lonely boys in summer do. It shouldn't be the defining experience of Eddie's life, that summer, that boy. His memories are all sun drenched, tanned skin, minnow catching, swimming, camping under the stars, a fumbling, toasted-marshmallow-sticky first kiss. He grows up and still Eddie thinks there will never be anyone else like that boy.

---

There's this new teen soap schlock on the CW. It fills his social media algorithms with gossip and BTS footage and spoilers. He ignores every bit of it, so far from the target audience it's laughable.

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak get into it. At first, he takes this as a betrayal of the highest order, threatens to kill all their characters in their next dnd session, but they convince him to give it a shot.

It's airs Thursday nights and thank god Wayne is at work, he'd never live it down. He turns the TV on just in time for the cold open, and within ten seconds there's a beautiful man on screen. Chestnut hair, coiffed carefully back; down-turned, hazel puppy dog eyes; freckles and moles dotting his face and neck--Eddie would recognize them anywhere, spent hours mapping the constellations of them during their one magical summer.

He sinks to his knees in front of the TV--nose inches from the screen--watches the whole episode that way. For the entire hour, the only thing he sees is Steve Harrington.

Eddie doesn't move until after the credits have rolled. He can't believe that the boy he knew all those years ago is an actor on a popular show, that he'd just missed finding him, all this time.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he Googles, which is a mistake immediately, because the most popular pictures are from a GQ photoshoot where Steve is very wet and very shirtless, the amount of chest hair on display enough to kill a man. He forgets how to breathe for several seconds, before quickly scrolling away, which is also a mistake because it's how he learns that Steve 1) dated his castmate, Nancy Wheeler for several years before 2) she got caught cheating on him with another castmate, and 3) he's often seen out and about with his current on-screen girlfriend, Robin Buckley.

For his own sanity, he has to put his phone away. It isn't like he's going to see Steve ever again, obviously, so he needs to forget all this. Keep the memory of that summer safe.

---

It's late spring and Gareth invites them all to their favorite bar in Indianapolis. One of their friends from their Corroded Coffin days got a gig playing bass for some up and coming indie guy, tickets and drinks are comped. It's not their usual vibe, musically, but who is Eddie to say no to a free night out?

And, look, night of, the music isn't his vibe, but the place is packed and he's with his best friends, and the drinks are flowing, so even he finds himself swaying along to the whiney hipster shit coming from the stage.

Eventually, the lights go down for the headliner, and the crowd crushes forward in a way Eddie isn't used to in this bar. He lets himself be pushed forward, somehow ending up right in front of the stage.

When the lights go up, he stops breathing.

It's Steve.

Steve right there in front of him, guitar strapped across his midsection. He's wearing dorky little Ray-Ban sunglasses, but Eddie would know that hair, those moles, anywhere.

There's no way Steve will notice him, remember him, but it's enough to see him now, to hear his music. Eddie dances and smiles at the boy who got away. Maybe he'll mourn later for the distant hope he harbored deep within his heart. But, he thinks, this is enough.

Steve comes out for the encore, takes off the sunglasses, tosses them straight to Eddie, smiles big and genuine and familiar. His heart stops. It can't be real, it can't mean anything, but he's so elated that his soul might rise from his body.

The show ends, the buzz of it, of Steve, reverberating through Eddie as he makes his way back to the bar. It's crowded with people, but he slides through the bodies until he's at the front. Someone taps him on the back, and he thinks they're trying to get through, but when he turns it's Steve.

His smile is so beautiful, Eddie thinks that maybe he's dying.

"Eddie!" Steve says.

"Stevie!" He doesn't mean for the old nickname to come out, couldn't keep it in.

"You remember me!" Steve is beaming.

"I'd never forget you." He's smiling just as hard. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Steve's nose wrinkles. "I've got, like, fifty coming. We could go somewhere quiet to talk?"

He's never said yes to something so fast in his life.

They go back to the postage stamp sized green room, and he's surprised to see Robin Buckley there. His stomach shrivels for a second, but she stands and he sees the lesbian flag painted on the side of her Converse, the oversized vest she's wearing.

"You want me to skedaddle?" She asks. He loves her immediately.

"Do you mind?" Steve asks. Robin shakes her head.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie," she calls as she sails out the door.

"You told her about me?" He knows his smile is downright goofy.

Steve blushes. "Um, yeah. Maybe a little? Just that I met a boy from near here one summer. And, uh, maybe something about him being my first kiss?"

"Oh." Eddie thinks he might burst into flame. "I wasn't sure if--I didn't know if you'd remember."

"I'd never forget," Steve says.

"You got famous." Eddie says, which is dumb, but he doesn't know how to deal with Steve cherishing those childhood memories the same way he does.

"I guess I did." Steve looks down, hair tumbling around his face. "It's probably not what you were expecting."

"Did I expect to turn on the tv and see my first crush staring at me in HD? Not quite. But It was amazing. You're amazing."

"I'm on a CW show," Steve laughs.

"So?"

"I think maybe you're a little biased about your first crush."

"Are you saying that's a bad thing?" They're flirting, he thinks. Can't believe it's happening, that Steve might--

"Well, maybe, but only if you tell me you don't have a crush on me anymore."

"Are you kidding? I saw that GQ photoshoot."

Steve's laugh is loud and bright, like fireworks in Eddie's chest. They're closer now, sharing warmth, breath.

"I have some candids if you want to see."

"Don't tempt me with a good time, Stevie."

They're quiet for a second, Eddie a little breathless from how hard they're flirting, how right it feels.

"You were great out there," he says.

"Thanks." Steve smiles, bashful. "I know it's not your kind of music."

Eddie shrugs. "I like what you do."

"And to think, you've barely gotten a taste yet." Steve pauses for a beat, horror dawning on his face. "Oh, shit. That was--I'm sorry--I--Robin says I always come on too strong, and I promised I would play it cool, but--"

"You never have to play it cool with me," Eddie says, sincere through his laughter.

"This is fast, though, right? I mean. The second I saw you in the crowd, it--it confirmed everything I thought when we first met. That's--is that crazy?"

Eddie's smile is softer now. "Not at all." Gently, he cups Steve's cheek with his hand. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please," Steve breathes. "God, Eddie, please."

Their mouths meet and it starts out sweet and slow, but it's not childhood crushes anymore. Eddie's tongue teases at the seam of Steve's lips, which part for him like he's the only one in the world with the magic words.

It's sweeter than any marshmallow.