#careful with that fax machine

[rastronomicals]

4:42 AM EST November 26, 2024:

Rumah Sakit - "Careful With That Fax Machine" From the album Rumah Sakit (2000)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: What the fuck is Math Rock

[spilladabalia]

Rumah Sakit, "Careful With That Fax Machine"

[waugh-bao]

“I don’t have a - what do you call it? - machine thing [computer]... I don't have a mobile phone, either... a) I don’t need one and b) I've got no interest, really. I mean, I must admit I'm a bit of a charlatan when it comes to the mobile, because I'll often say - to Mick, for example - "Can I borrow your phone?" But I don't actually possess one of my own. Nor does Keith, by the way, who doesn't use a telephone at all. Very rarely. He very rarely rings anyone. He faxes people. He writes the best faxes in the world, but he's not a telephone man.”

Charlie Watts, 2010

[the-casbah-way]

Can i ask how old is Oct and Jed in the fic?

octavius is 45 and jed is 41 :3

and YES i will be describing the greying hair and permanent eye bags and smile lines so no one is allowed to picture them as sexy and young. and YES octavius is going to have shitty clicky knees during sex and probably will need to pop some viagra before the whole ordeal and i will be describing his dad bod in excruciating detail so that it’s physically impossible to imagine him as a twinkified 30 year old. only visibly ageing sexy men in my fics thank you very much

[spacelazarwolf]

in honor of that anon who said jews have done nothing for the world, here’s a non exhaustive list of things we’ve done for the world:

arts, fashion, and lifestyle:

jeans - levi strauss

modern bras - ida rosenthal

sewing machines - isaac merritt singer

modern film industry - carl laemmle (universal pictures), adolph zukor (paramount pictures), william fox (fox film forporation), louis b. mayer (mgm - metro-goldwyn-mayer), harry, sam, albert, and jack warners (warner bros.), steven spielberg, mel brooks, marx brothers

operetta - jacques offenbach

comic books - stan lee

graphic novels - will eisner

teddy bears - morris and rose michtom

influential musicians - irving berlin, stephen sondheim, benny goodman, george gershwin, paul simon, itzhak perlman, leonard bernstein, bob dylan, leonard cohen

artists - mark rothko

actors - elizabeth taylor, jerry lewis, barbara streisand

comedians - lenny bruce, joan rivers, jerry seinfeld

authors - judy blume, tony kushner, allen ginsberg, walter mosley

culture:

esperanto - ludwik lazar zamenhof

feminism - betty friedan, gloria steinem, ruth bader ginsberg

queer and trans rights - larry kramer, harvey milk, leslie feinberg, abby stein, kate bornstein, frank kameny, judith butler

international women's day - clara zetkin

principles of journalizm, statue of liberty, and pulitzer prize - joseph pulitzer

"the new colossus" - emma lazarus

universal declaration of human rights - rene samuel cassin

holocaust remembrance and human rights activism - elie wiesel

workers rights - louis brandeis, rose schneiderman

public health care, women's rights, and children's rights - lillian wald

racial equity - rabbi abraham joshua heschel, julius rosenwald, andrew goodman, michael schwerner

political theory - hannah arendt

disability rights - judith heumann

black lives matter slogan and movement - alicia garza

#metoo movement - jodi kantor

institute of sexology - magnus hirschfeld

technology:

word processing computers - evelyn berezin

facebook - mark zuckerberg

console video game system - ralph henry baer

cell phones - amos edward joel jr., martin cooper

3d - leonard lipton

telephone - philipp reis

fax machines - arthur korn

microphone - emile berliner

gramophone - emile berliner

television - boris rosing

barcodes - norman joseph woodland and bernard silver

secret communication system, which is the foundation of the technology used for wifi - hedy lamarr

three laws of robotics - isaac asimov

cybernetics - norbert wiener

helicopters - emile berliner

BASIC (programming language) - john george kemeny

google - sergey mikhaylovich brin and larry page

VCR - jerome lemelson

fax machine - jerome lemelson

telegraph - samuel finley breese morse

morse code - samuel finley breese morse

bulletproof glass - edouard benedictus

electric motor and electroplating - boris semyonovich jacobi

nuclear powered submarine - hyman george rickover

the internet - paul baran

icq instant messenger - arik vardi, yair goldfinger,, sefi vigiser, amnon amir

color photography - leopold godowsky and leopold mannes

world's first computer - herman goldstine

modern computer architecture - john von neumann

bittorrent - bram cohen

voip internet telephony - alon cohen

data archiving - phil katz, eugene roshal, abraham lempel, jacob ziv

nemeth code - abraham nemeth

holography - dennis gabor

laser - theodor maiman

instant photo sharing online - philippe kahn

first automobile - siegfried samuel marcus

electrical maglev road - boris petrovich weinberg

drip irrigation - simcha blass

ballpoint pen and automatic gearbox - laszlo biro

photo booth - anatol marco josepho

medicine:

pacemakers and defibrillators - louise robinovitch

defibrillators - bernard lown

anti-plague and anti-cholera vaccines - vladimir aronovich khavkin

polio vaccine - jonas salk

test for diagnosis of syphilis - august paul von wasserman

test for typhoid fever - ferdinand widal

penicillin - ernst boris chain

pregnancy test - barnhard zondek

antiretroviral drug to treat aids and fight rejection in organ transplants - gertrude elion

discovery of hepatitis c virus - harvey alter

chemotherapy - paul ehrlich

discovery of prions - stanley prusiner

psychoanalysis - sigmund freud

rubber condoms - julius fromm

birth control pill - gregory goodwin pincus

asorbic acid (vitamin c) - tadeusz reichstein

blood groups and rh blood factor - karl landsteiner

acyclovir (treatment for infections caused by herpes virus) - gertrude elion

vitamins - caismir funk

technique for measuring blood insulin levils - rosalyn sussman yalow

antigen for hepatitus - baruch samuel blumberg

a bone fusion technique - gavriil abramovich ilizarov

homeopathy - christian friedrich samuel hahnemann

aspirin - arthur ernst eichengrun

science:

theory of relativity - albert einstein

theory of the electromagnetic field - james maxwell

quantum mechanics - max born, gustav ludwig hertz

quantum theory of gravity - matvei bronstein

microbiology - ferdinand julius cohn

neuropsychology - alexander romanovich luria

counters for x-rays and gamma rays - robert hofstadter

genetic engineering - paul berg

discovery of the antiproton - emilio gino segre

discovery of cosmic microwave background radiation - arno allan penzias

discovery of the accelerating expansion of the universe - adam riess and saul merlmutter

discovery that black hole formation is a robust prediction of the general theory of relativity - roger penrose

discovery of a supermassive compact object at the center of the milky way - andrea ghez

modern cosmology and the big bang theory - alexander alexandrovich friedmann

stainless steel - hans goldschmidt

gas powered vehicles

interferometer - albert abraham michelson

discovery of the source of energy production in stars - hans albrecht bethe

proved poincare conjecture - grigori yakovlevich perelman

biochemistry - otto fritz meyerhof

electron-positron collider - bruno touschek

[dinogoofymutated]

I absolutely adore how you write Kurt,

Could you write something for Kurt being concerned for an overworked reader?

And or a reader that struggles with sleep?

SFW!Nightcrawler/GN! Reader The amount of comfort that this man gives me UGH! He's just so caring and sweet, but I worry about him :( He's been the therapist friend in basically every episode in 97' and he deserves some comfort too so I added basically the reverse version of these headcannons at the end as well! Sorry I didn't end up writing anything for sleep, I've written a fic with some sleep struggle themes here but I might end up writing some seperate headcannons for that later! TWs: Themes of burnout/exhaustion. Mentions of the Genosha attack and Remy's death/funeral, religious themes. As always, reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned. I'm doing my best with adding German dialect while Kurt speaks but I'm not super knowledgeable, so let me know if there's something I need to change!

Kurt makes it his absolute mission to make sure you're always taken care of. Food, emotional support, laundry, dishes, Hell, he'd give you the sun and stars if you needed them. He just cares about you so much, and he never wants you to feel like you're alone in this world.

This being said, when he feels that you're overworking yourself, he's not afraid to let you know.

When he first starts to notice it, He'll check in on you more often. He'll pull you into a hug and give you kisses and he'll only leave when you reassure him that you're perfectly fine.

If you're still overworking yourself after this, he will outright tell you that he loves you, but you need a break. You can't go on like this and he's concerned about you. He doesn't purposely give you the sad puppy eyes, but seriously, how could you think about saying no to that face?

He really likes to brush his hands through your hair when he's trying to help you relax. He'll move your head into his lap on the couch and hum you softly to sleep. He might take you to bed, but he won't wake you up unless he absolutely has to. He won't go as far as to turn off your alarms, but he just wants you to rest.

However, if you know you're overworking yourself but still refuse to let yourself stop, or take a break, he's going to be a little more "aggressive".

    Your computer screen is giving you a migraine, you feel like you want to tear your brain out of your head, and plainly? You just can’t sit still. You had been in this spot for about six hours straight. The last time you actually got up was to eat dinner, and even then you had only relaxed for what, thirty minutes? You can’t really remember.

    You sigh deeply, leaning back in your chair as you massage your temples. Working for the budding country of Genosha was certainly not for the weak. You needed to have this paperwork finished and faxed before the end of the week so that talks of Genosha entering the U.N. could continue. It was such a hefty amount, but it was necessary. Everyone else had done their part, and all you had to do was make corrections, edit, and make sure everything was in top shape. You’d been working on it for about three days straight, and with the finish line in sight, you didn’t want to stop now. 

    Oh, but your head hurts so bad, and you feel like you're starving. You look from your computer to your copy machine and the huge stack of mostly finished paperwork on your desk. You just want it to be over with, you decide it’s best if you just push through.

    “You haven’t moved from that spot since lunch,” You hear Kurt state. He comes around the side of your chair to brush some stray locks away from your forehead, and you do your best to give him a smile, although it’s obvious the expression is pained.

    “I didn’t hear you come in.” Your voice comes out a little gravelly from being silent most of the day. Kurt’s hands begin to gather your hair and caress the back of your neck lovingly. His hands feel good, grounding. You close your eyes to appreciate the feeling and miss the sight of Kurt’s frown.

    “Let’s get you to bed, Liebchen. I can tell your head hurts.” Kurt’s tone is gentle, although displeased, and it makes you feel guilty when you shake your head and pull away, leaning forward as you restack the paperwork on your desk.

    “I can’t. I’m almost done with this whole U.N. thing and the sooner it’s over, the better.” You mumble stubbornly. Kurt shakes his head at you, pulling your rolling chair away from the desk before you can get your hands on something else. You don’t even have the energy to express your shock as Kurt takes the papers out of your hands, using the table to straighten them before placing them in their proper place. He tuts at you as he does so, and continues to save your files and power down the computer despite your protests.

    “My apologies, love, but I won’t let you rot in this room for another moment. I understand how important this work is to you. Giving Genosia a voice that the world can hear is a very noble cause, and yet it is still a cause that can wait till tomorrow, Ja?” You open your mouth to attempt to protest again, but your head hurts so bad, and you are so tired. Kurt takes your hands to help you out of your chair, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls you into a gentle hug.

    “Okay. But-” You don’t finish your sentence before Kurt is tucking your face into his shoulder, sparing you the view as he Bamfs you away. When he lets you go, you’re standing in your bedroom. You’re thankful that he spared you the sights, knowing that it would have just made your head worse- but it didn’t change the fact that you hadn’t been remotely done in the office.

    “-I still need to lock up, Kurt.” You start to say, but he’s gone in a puff of smoke before you can even finish the sentence. When he makes it back a few minutes later, Kurt sends you a cheeky smile, lifting his tail to show you the keys he must’ve snagged from your pocket earlier. 

    “Did you-”

    “Lock the file cabinet? Yes. And I turned off your lamp, and closed the curtains before I locked the door.” Kurt kisses your temple as he sits you down on the bed, beginning to take your shoes off. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you taken care of.” You feel like your heart might explode with the overwhelming fondness you’re feeling right now. When he’s done with your shoes, he carefully helps you undress and change into pajamas, something he knows you struggled with when you were as exhausted as you are now. He makes sure to tuck you into bed before he himself goes to change. It doesn’t matter how much pain you felt at this point, when he crawled into bed you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up close to him, pressing tired kisses to whatever part of him you could reach. Kurt simply chuckles, pulling you into an embrace as he whispers sweet encouragements for you to sleep.

    “Kurt?”

    “Yes, Meine Liebe?”

    “ ‘Think you could Marry me?”

Now just because Kurt will do everything in his power to keep you from reaching the point of burnout, doesn't mean that he himself will stop from reaching that point.

Kurt is a genuinely good person, right to the core. He likes helping people, he likes to care for others, but he doesn't always ask for help when he needs it. It's not that he doesn't have emotional intelligence for his own feelings, he just tends to soothe himself by assisting others. Even then, to an extent, that's not healthy coping. There is only so much someone can carry alone.

After the attack on Genosha, there was a lot of work that had to be done- and Kurt, being a familiar and dependable face in the many religious communities, was needed constantly in a tumultuous time when many turned to religion.

It's been a struggle for the two of you, much of your time together being cut short in one way or another, and the longer you spent away, the more worried you became.

It all came to a head after Remy's funeral.

    Remy’s funeral was… Rough. To say the least. No one was coping very well, especially not Jubilee. You had walked out to the cars with the group after the last of the dirt had been laid, making sure to give her a tight hug. The X-men were the only real family she had ever had, and now she had lost a brother. You had let her sob for a moment, listening to her cries and the sounds of doors, opening and closing. 

    When everyone had loaded up and was ready to head out, you noticed that Kurt wasn’t there. You told everyone that you would catch up. You had a feeling you knew where he would be.

    You find Kurt in an empty church. He’d shed his outermost robes at some point, and was sitting silently on a pew. His eyes are closed and his hands folded, praying. You don’t disturb him as you sit down, simply reaching a hand out and placing it on his knee, squeezing it to let him know you were there. When he finishes, he places his hand over your own, opening his eyes as he looks down. His tears are flowing freely, and he leans into your touch when you wipe them from his cheeks.

    “I’ve been told that there is strength in a man that freely mourns, but… It’s silly. I can’t help but wish that I was stronger.” Kurt’s almost whispering as he speaks. You feel a lump form in your throat, your stinging eyes welling with tears for the countless time today. It hurts so unbelievably to see someone you love hurting so much, knowing that there is so little that you can do to make the pain go away, even if the loss is shared.

    “It’s not silly. I think that a lot of people feel the same- especially right now.” You say. You take hold of his left hand, tracing the cool metal band on his finger. You compare it to the one you wear, and find yourself thankful that the hand that bears his is still warm. You think of Rogue and Remy. The life they could’ve had together, if only they had been given more time. 

    You lean your head on Kurt’s shoulder, and he rests his head on top of your own. 

    “You don’t have to carry it alone.” You whisper eventually. Kurt says nothing, lacing his fingers between yours. “I know we haven't had a lot of time together lately, but as long as I’ve known you, you’ve carried so much on your shoulders- but you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I’m here for, remember?” Kurt laughs lightly at your words, squeezing your left hand before lifting it to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

    “You are a gift that I’m not entirely sure I deserve, my love,” Kurt says. You scoff at him, frowning now as you look up to meet his eyes.

    “Lying is a sin, Kurt.” You say playfully. His smile is blinding, and you gasp as Kurt Wagner of all people rolls his eyes at you. 

    “Even if it was a lie, which it isn’t, as long as I have you near, Schatz, Heaven will be in reach.”

[pinkanonwrites]

HEHEHE I LOVE THE RODIMUS STORYY I'm obsessed with all the first contact au stories with rodimus and I would love if you could please do more if you ever feel like it 😭 the ones with language barrier and size difference are muah 🤌💫

If youre ever up for it or would feel comfortable, would you be willing to please write one where maybe the reader is sick with the flu and is either about to or actually does throw up and rodimus has no idea what the flu is or what throwing up is for humans and he has no idea how to deal with it 😅 and ofc the human can't explain bc language barrier.

Or any other rodimus with lil human stuff you can post I will happily gobble up hehe

I liked this idea too much for it to just be in bullet points, so it turned into a mini fic. Hope you enjoy!

Rodimus/Reader First Contact AU, Human Reader, GN Pronouns, Sickfic, emeto mention

Gazing blearily up at the ceiling as fluorescent lighting above whizzed past, you couldn’t fully tell if the nauseating pitch and wave of your surroundings was just from your sickness, or if panic was making Rodimus significantly less gentle than usual. Either way, if you had anything left in your stomach you probably would have thrown up again by now.

How foolish you were, to assume that being on an interdimensional traveling spaceship meant you would be less likely to suffer from the illnesses and maladies that you would normally find on Earth. No, now you were subject to an entire galaxy’s worth of potential contractible ailments instead. And though you could compare this one to some of the worse stomach viruses you’d had throughout your life back home, you didn’t really have a way to communicate to Rodimus that you weren’t, in fact, dying. No matter how much it felt like you were.

The hiss of a hydraulic powered door was almost drowned out by your caretaker’s panicked boops and screeches as he ran up to another one of the bots aboard the ship. A black helm and a shoulder-mounted cannon stepped into your nausea-warped vision, and a familiar gleam of a single, blue lens stared down at you. One of the scientist bots, the nicer one of the two that had poked and prodded at you when Rodimus first presented you to them. His name was… Perceptor?

But when he reached out a giant metal finger to you, Rodimus was quick to pull you back against his chest and out of the other’s reach. A kind gesture, but one that left you nearly gagging from the sudden wave of vertigo that racked your system. You winced at the feeling of Rodimus’s thumb brushing your cheek, the sticky pull of sweaty skin against hot metal, and the warble he let out in response sounded absolutely heartbroken. Through your hazy vision you could see tense corners of his mouth pull down, the soft glow of his eyes looking dimmer than usual as he cradled you. Then, with as much care as he could muster, he laid you so delicately upon Perceptor’s desk. His fingers stroked the top of your head, hands still bracketing you as if he was afraid you’d slip through his fingertips and right off the edge of the table as soon as he let his guard down. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel safer knowing he was worried about you. It was hard to imagine many worse scenarios than getting sick in outer space, but getting sick alone in outer space seemed pretty high up there.

So you let yourself be gently prodded at and scanned by Perceptor, Rodimus’s hands never straying far enough for you to not reach him. They murmured back and forth to each other all the while, a chittering of mechanical whirs and buzzes like an old fax machine pumping out a distant message. The chill of the metal surface under your back left goosebumps crawling up your skin, another detail that quickly drew Perceptor’s curiosity. After an amount of time you couldn’t possibly have estimated with your sickness-addled, swimming mind working at less than half the capacity of usual, both bots leaned away from the table to discuss something, like they were afraid you’d somehow overhear.

The sudden, harsh glow of the ceiling lights above left you squinting, a soft whimper escaping your throat despite yourself. Immediately Rodimus was upon you again, his giant chin resting on the edge of the table as his eyes flitted about over your shaking, exhausted frame. His hands hovered around you, fingers tense like he wasn’t sure if he should pick you up or not. But the warmth of his massive hands was a lot more comforting right now than the sterile chill of the tabletop, so with a great amount of effort you wormed your way back into his grasp.

Perceptor let out another, stern sounding buzz. Rodimus brought you back to his chest, resting your cheek against the smooth slope of metal as he responded in kind. You let your eyelids flutter shut as they continued to chatter. Whatever they were talking about didn’t really matter to you right now. Regardless of whatever was going on, you knew Rodimus would take care of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“And it’s not atrophosia? You’re sure?”

“Just because atrophosia comes from organics, Rodimus, does not mean they can contract it. No, what we’re looking at seems to be some form of organic virus.”

“That’s good, right?” Rodimus peeked at Perceptor from the corner of his optic, unwilling to take his full attention off of you for too long. Your little frame was sprawled weakly across the scientist’s desk, organic coolant and these strange, microscopic bumps beading across your body. Perceptor let out a curious hum, lifting your tiny servo up with the tip of his pen. Rodimus stifled the urge to slap it away. “If it’s a virus, it can be removed, right?”

“It’s not quite that simple. Organics don’t have accessible coding to allow ourselves entry. Their only solution is the old fashioned way, get plenty of recharge and wait it out.”

“But look at them! They’re all shaky and covered in coolant! A-And just earlier today, they purged their tanks!”

“That’s a good thing. Organics will purge their tanks as an emergency reflex to intrusive disease or illness. There’s actually a fascinating organic, a form of amphibian which can expel their entire tank when in-”

“Great! Cool! Love the fun facts, Perceptor! But are they-” And here Rodimus gestured to your small, shivering frame, “-going to be okay?”

“I’ve acquired some information on human illness- from Swerve of all bots, if you’d believe it. When humans are ill they require copious recharge, plenty of clean, desalinated water, and, apparently, a fuel comprised of the boiled carcass of an Earth bird and various edible flora.”

“I don’t have any Earth birds! Earth has the Earth birds!” Rodimus sat up with a jolt, a bristling wave of heat rolling off of his frame that was swiftly ignored by Perceptor.

“I am certain the replicator could produce a suitable substitute. It has worked for providing nourishment thus far.”

Both bots’ attention snapped back to you when you let out a small whine, squinting under the blaring light of the overhead systems. 

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry bud!” Rodimus’s voice dropped to a soft coo as he hovered his servos back around your frame. “Is it too bright in here, your optics sensitive?”

“Perhaps it would be good for the human to rest here, where they can be monitored. You have other duties aboard the ship, after all.”

“Yeah, but…” Rodimus stared as you dragged yourself across the table, curling weakly into the crook of his servo with a soft sigh. He cradled you again, letting you rest your helm upon his chassis as he supported you with both arms. “I- I think I’ll keep an optic on them. What if being in here makes them nervous? Then they can’t recharge properly.”

Perceptor let out a soft huff, pinching the bridge of his olfactory ridge between two digits. “...Whatever you insist, Rodimus. But do allow them to rest. No joyrides.”

As Rodimus looked down at your frame in his arms, for once, joyriding was the last thing on his mind.

[kiaxet]

Sooooo y’all see the latest @somerandomdudelmao comic update? Because once again it is living in my head, which means once again my brain has generated fic. This one’s ~1200 words and slightly less tragic, depending on whether or not you take dramatic irony into account.

~~~~~~~

It starts fairly innocuously.

One of the surviving technicians monitors a computer as it finally, finally boots up successfully, whooping when the Genius Tech loading screen pops up. He grins and pats the power cable. "Thanks, Raph!"

It catches on.

A water purifier, disconnected to save a struggling power supply, gets plugged back in. It chugs back to life, and the kids responsible for its upkeep cheer and high five. One of them waves at the ceiling, where a power conduit runs overhead. "Thanks, Mister Raph!"

And it spreads like wildfire.

Every time something works the way it's supposed to - every time a much-needed device pops back to life, or the emergency doors close correctly, or a dying lightbulb flickers on one more time - they thank Raph. In gleeful shouts and careful whispers, they show gratitude for the person who gave up his life - and his second chance at life, at that - to keep them safe. It makes the emergency base, ramshackle and barely held together as it is, feel a little more like a home. A little more alive.

It doesn't take long for a few unspoken rules to develop.

They never say it in front of the metal shell. It's one thing to say it to the walls, the cables, the electricity; it's something else to say it to a figure with a face, seated against the wall like a sentinel that will awaken and protect them when danger arises.

(Nevermind that they've been in danger, constant and unending, for decades, and that this sentinel is already protecting them in smaller, everyday ways.)

They learn very quickly never to say it in front of Raph's surviving family, either. Master Leonardo gets angry when he hears it. It's an anger born of grief and loss, painful but not dangerous to allies, but given how terrifying Master Leonardo can be on the battlefield or a bad day, nobody really wants that anger directed at them. Master Michaelangelo just stops when he hears it, lips curling up in an expression too devoid of life to truly be called a smile. It's almost worse to witness than Master Leonardo's anger. No, they learn to watch themselves in front of the family, carefully taking their gratitude towards a dead man elsewhere.

Until the day someone forgets and says it in front of Casey Junior.

The kid looks up at Roger with wide, almost hopeful eyes. "Why did you- is he here? Can you feel him?"

Roger stares back at him with equally wide eyes. He'd just been grateful the computer had booted correctly for his monitor shift, and he hadn't been looking, and now he has to try to explain this to a kid who's never known a life outside the apocalypse. Oh boy. "No, uh- I mean- I don't have magic like your dads do, Casey, I couldn't-" He sighs. "It's just...a thing people do, when things work. Before the Krang, we had all sorts of machines that made life easier, and...we'd talk to 'em. Thank 'em when they worked, yell or beg when they didn't...I remember threatening a fax machine once, not that that made any difference. I think that just...kinda carried over here." Wait. "Not that your uncle was a machine or anything-"

"His body was a machine," Casey says simply, with a pragmatism that Roger hadn't been expecting. Apocalypse-raised kid. Right. "That wasn't what made him Uncle Raph. He was- it's-" Casey falters, expression starting to crumble. Pragmatism be damned, the kid is still grieving-

Rem, just coming off her shift, steps in smoothly. It's not the first time she's saved Roger's ass, both on and off the battlefield, and it won't be the last. "We know," she says gently, putting an arm around Casey's shoulders. "What Roger means is that we're grateful he's keeping us going, and that people like to bond with machines even when they're too simple to bond back. We all used to name our cars - can you believe it?"

"I named mine Red Rider," Roger says wistfully. He still misses that car.

"And I used to sneak out of the Hidden City with my cloaking brooch and go joyriding outside of human cities," Rem says, a grin splitting her feline muzzle. "I named every car I stole Phantom, like I thought I was cool."

Casey smiles - small and watery, but there nonetheless - and Roger breathes a sigh of relief. "What else did you name?"

"I mean, it was mostly cars, but some people named their computers."

"I had a friend who named her phone and just kept adding numbers when she had to replace it. It was Duchess O'Brien the eighth last I'd heard."

"I know some Yokai named their weapons, but I never really kept track of those. It was more of a Battle Nexus fandom thing."

Another Yokai leans in - a four eyed lizard whose name Roger could never remember no matter how hard he tried - and Roger shuts up. She's in charge of security now, and honestly she intimidates him. She looks around - at him, at Rem, at Casey - and then intones seriously, "I once named a kitchen appliance Toasty McToastFace."

There's a beat of silence. Casey has a lopsided grin growing on his face, like he doesn't get the joke but he knows it is one, and that's enough to lift his mood.

And then Rem doubles over, cracking up, and Bob smiles carefully. "Really loved that toaster, huh?"

"It was my closest friend," the lizard Yokai replies, deadpan as hell, before leaving the conversation.

Casey turns that confused grin on Roger. "Was she serious?"

"Kid, I have no idea. Some people are just really into this kinda thing."

Rem finally straightens up, wiping a tear from her eye with a paw. "Ohhhh boy. Oh, I needed that." She turns her smile back on Casey. "Point being, naming something makes it a little more real, and makes you a little more likely to take care of it. The system here...already has a name. We're just saying thank you, you know?"

The grin on Casey's face settles down into consideration. "Yeah, I think I do. I- Thanks. I'm gonna-" He waves at the door to finish his sentence.

"Go for it, kid." Roger waves him off as he departs, then sighs once he's gone. "God, that kid is just hemmhorraging family, isn't he."

"We all are, Roger, it's the fucking apocalypse." Rem flicks an ear.

"Yeah, but still. It's rough." There's a second or two of silence. "Also, if he says it in front of Master Leonardo, I'm denying all knowledge of this conversation."

"Spirits, same."

Roger learns a few days later - from Rem, of course - that Casey has named his chainsaw hockey stick Killer, because it's what his mom used to call him. Well damn, if kids like him are gonna be the future, then maybe they have some hope after all. He raps on a wall lightly, just below where the power conduit is mounted. "I know you didn't have a lot of time with the kid, but you did a good job." He can't help but smile. "Thanks, Raph."

[gramarye]

honestly so funny that my birthday is between Good Friday and Easter Sunday this year. i am a child of God. or like the very opposite because technically saturday is the day that jesus was dead to the world so as my friend said it is "the most godless day of all"

[unlimitedlust]

Good Girl Gone Bad (Javier Peña x Reader)

A/N: Heyyy, another Javier Peña thristy fanfiction for you!!! Now heads up for initial details I noted people appreciate:

Word count: 4.3K

Disclaimers: it’s a female Reader x Javier story, +18 (very explicit scenes ahead guys) 🌶️🔥👄💦, unprotected p in v, tinges of sub Javi and breeding kink!!!

When you see this “-0-”, I recommend you to put “Ride or Die, Pt. 2” by Sevdaliza, Villano Antillano and Tokischa for ambiance purpose!!!

Please let me know if you enjoyed it, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated and also encourage me to keep writing (if you like my writing ofc 😅)

Enough said: Enjoy your reading!!!

Javier seized the burning sensation from the freshly brewed coffee down his throat as he took a big gulp from his mug, as if the bitter liquid was going to turn off his mind from all the work he had to do for at least a few seconds. His eyes scanned the big piles of files around him, the full ashtray almost falling off the front border of his table and next to the telephone he’d left off the receiver on purpose.

DEA staff ran up and down their office talking on the phone, receiving and printing new information from loud fax machines, typewriters keys clicking annoyingly loud, both English and Spanish being spoken all the time. For an ordinary person who wasn’t used to such a busy dynamic it was a maddening environment itself, not to mention the main part of their job, which was chasing after narcos.

Javier knew all their faces and names, but he was under such stress he just didn’t care to engage in any kind of small talk conversations with his coworkers anymore, and day after day he understood the wallflower that sat in the farthest corner of the office, just doing her job like a horse on a winker.

He knew she worked there for a while now, but all the knowledge he had about her was her name and that she was a great investigator. She was so quiet the only times he’d heard her voice was when someone greeted her and she greeted them back. At first Javier thought she was a weirdo, but now not only he admired her invisibility and discretion, but also understood why she wanted to be left in peace in a corner just doing her job.

The fact that she was a beautiful woman didn’t go unnoticed by him of course, even without ever seeing her smile, but she kept herself shut to any contact with anyone in that place he just didn’t dare to bother the peace she seemed to hold and he envied so much.

Sadly his position in the DEA didn’t allow him to have that luxury, after all, he was The Javier Peña.

Hours flew by and by the time Javier broke his attention away from the files in front of him, he realized it was dark outside and he was alone in the building again.

He knew he still had endless work to do for the day, but he’d had enough, his head would explode if he spent another night in that office, he needed to leave and blow off some steam.

“Fuck this shit”

-0-

Grabbing his car keys, Javier left the empty DEA office and drove mindlessly around the city looking for the first place that would grab his attention enough to drag him inside.

Tonight he wasn’t looking for a hooker to spend a few hours by his side, if he wanted that he’d just head home and call one of his contacts and get it over with.

He wanted something different, something cheerful and with heavy drinks, he desperately needed to forget his job and all the shit he had to deal with everyday just for a few hours.

A club with big pink neon lights adorning its name caught his attention as he parked his vehicle on the side of the street, the loud reggaeton beats coming from the inside drawing him in as he made his way to the entrance.

Just as he stepped inside he was swallowed by a sea of sweaty and drunken people dancing, twerking, grinding on each other, hands all over the place, allowing the sensual and captivating beat to take over their bodies and desires.

It was perfect for what Javier needed at that moment.

He made his way through the crowd to one of the bars, checking out a few asses on his way there, feeling more comfortable and confident as he received some flirtatious glances in his direction.

With an ice cold beer in hand he checked out the dance floor in front of him once again, but this time a woman in a dark pink skin tight dress caught his attention. He hadn’t seen her face yet as she had her back turned in his direction, but the way she swayed her hips and how that tantalizingly short dress hugged her body in all the right places made his mouth water at the sight. He couldn’t help but wonder how she would look like moving like that on his dick, riding him in a reverse cowgirl position with that juicy ass and bouncy hips. The thought alone made his jeans feel tighter on himself.

Javier took a larger gulp of his beer as he got ready to approach her, ready to use all of his charm and unfailing game with women in hopes to be the one to take her home tonight.

But as soon as she turned in his direction, his jaw dropped when he realized the woman he was lusting on was the wallflower from the DEA, the one that no one knew nothing about other than her name and the info on her files, held a naughty smile on her face as she danced in the most provocative way possible, dragging not only Javier’s but many other men’s attention, and she knew it, she meant it.

Every now and then men tried to approach her to dance with her and maybe get a little taste, but she ditched them all gracefully. She didn’t want them. She wanted to feel desired and lusted on, but for her the real fun was in taking the candy out of their mouths, which was drawing them in like a mermaid, to then ditch them off like nothing.

The new discovery only encouraged Javier to take his shot with her. He was well aware that working with her could be both a leverage or a weakness, and there was only way he could find out.

She hadn’t seen him yet, the dim and colorful flickering lights over her didn’t allow her to see faces clearly from a certain distance, so he used that to watch her, waiting for the perfect window to go after her.

And just as she left the dance floor to the bar at the other side of the club the window was open.

“Good girl only during business hours?” Javier purred in her right ear just as she rested her forearms on the counter.

He didn’t miss the way his low voice caused goosebumps on her skin, the thin hairs on her arms standing immediately as he got by her side on the counter, waiting for her answer as she displayed a sly smirk on her plush lips.

“What makes you think I’m not a good girl full time?” She batted her eyelashes, a challenging glimmer in her orbs as her eyes traveled from his brown ones to his mouth, watching him lick his lips for a second as he seemed to get lost in his sinful thoughts for a moment.

Taking him off guard, she rested her right hand on his chest and slid her index finger over the first sets of buttons of his cream shirt, opening the them skillfully in a swift motion, revelaving part of his tanned and smooth chest, the light touch of her fingertip being enough to make his heart race.

“I like you better that way” The playful smirk never leaving her lips “Charming”

“Charming enough to buy you a drink?”

“I like shots better”

Javier was now by her side, right elbow propped on the counter as he signaled the bartender for two shots of tequila. He put two shot glasses in front of them along with a salt cellar and served them a small plate with pieces of lime, producing the bottle containing the golden liquid for last.

“Leave the bottle” He demanded just as the bartender finished filling the glasses.

They put salt on their hands, licked it and downed their first shot, the section of lime coming right after to soothe the bitter oaky punch, the alcohol instantly warming up their bodies.

“How did you find me here?” She asked, running her thumb in the corner of her lips to clean off the excess of lime juice.

“Are you upset about that, cariño?”

He faked a pout.

“Well…” She paused, pretending to be thinking deeply about the answer “I’m actually glad you found me”

“Is that so? Mind telling me why?”

“If you play my cards right, might as well show you” She teased him, pouring them another round of tequila.

“Then teach me how to play them”

They took their second round of tequila, but this time their eyes never broke their contact, a silent dispute of power between them, hunters hunting one another, testing each other to see how far their teasing would go, who would lose the battle and give in first.

Javier was both amused and tempted.

Amused because he still couldn’t believe that in front of him, challenging him, was the shy reserved woman from the DEA, claws out and ready to attack.

Tempted because she was the temptation herself. But Javier was a competitive man and he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Do you dance, Mr. Peña?”

“Javi” He corrected “You’ll have to find out by yourself”

“I’ll take my chances”

She winked and handed him another shot, both of them sinking it fast, the spicy-woody liquid didn’t even burn their throats anymore as their bodies already felt like in flames, not only from the alcohol, but also from the heated exchange between them as every second, every word, every glance felt like electric shocks, like adding fuel to the fire.

Javier waited for her to give the next move as she sized him up, the smug look on her face making clear she had nothing but bad intentions in her mind, and oh boy how he wanted to get into her trouble.

“Come on”

She hooked her index finger in one of his pant’s belt loops and pulled him, the sudden move making Javier jolt forward, his body halting less than an inch away from hers, a dangerously short distance separating them as she watched amused his surprised reaction over her small stunt.

Colorful lights beamed over them as they were now in the middle of the dance floor, a loud song with heavily provocative beats and lyrics guiding their bodies, her arms resting loosely around his neck and one of his hands keeping her close by the end of her back as they danced together, their hips moving in sync, up close, almost intimate, but never brushing against each other, one of his legs strategically positioned between hers as they swayed sensually.

She slid one of her hands down his chest seductively, but this time, he was the one in control.

The hand on her back slid to her waist and spun her around, his hands now keeping her in place and practically locked against his body by her lower belly and waist, her ass now rolling irresistibly close to his crotch.

Javier loved how her skin reacted to the way he manhandled her, goosebumps all over as she bit her bottom lip and threw her head back, leaning against his shoulder as she let herself get lost in her own lustful thoughts for a moment, the suggestive lyrics only adding to her imagination.

Taking advantage of her exposed neck, Javier got intoxicated by her smell, the jasmine and warm notes of cocoa overpowered his senses as his lips traced the sensitive skin towards her ear, the light touch of his lips along with his mustache intensifying the goosebumps she still hadn’t recovered from yet.

“Am I up to your expectations?” He whispered in her ear, his lips moving just above her lobe. His teasing affected her more than she’d like to admit.

They lost track of the time they spent dancing together, teasingly of course, but also having a great time singing, laughing and smiling at each other.

Javier, who'd never seen her smile before that night, couldn’t take his eyes off her lips every time they curved upwards, revealing not only her beautiful lined teeth, but also the dimples on her glowing cheeks, lighting up her already cheerful face.

And again he caught himself admiring her, as they were now outside of the club. Javier stood leaning his back on his truck’s passenger door while she stood on his opposite side, leaning herself on the wall behind her.

A comfortable silence hung between them as he lit up a cigarette and she drank the last bottle of beer she got on their way out. Javier inhaled the smoke, enjoying the feel of the nicotine kicking in his system as he watched her take a gulp from the bottle, her lips wrapping around it softly as she reciprocated his gaze.

He wondered what her lips felt like, not only against his lips, but all over his body, plump and soft kissing him, caressing him, marking him, sucking him, the thought alone making his pants feel tight once again.

The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement took him out of his reverie as he now realized she was coming to him, slow and steady steps. She left the half empty bottle on his truck’s roof behind his head and then took the cigarette from his hands, bringing it to her own lips as she held it between her manicured nails.

And just as she leant on his vehicle by his side, he took his cue to leave his position and imprison her between his body and the truck, his arms hovering on each side of her head, the smug smile indicating she had him right where she wanted him to be: his body inches away from hers, the muscles on his arms twitching with the force he held onto the truck’s roof ledge, trying not to lose the last bit of restraint he still had.

She puffed the smoke out of her lips towards his, the simple yet enticing gesture making him snap and take the cigarette off her hands in a swift motion, throwing it away just as he crashed his lips against hers.

Their tongues met right away initiating an erotic dance, devouring each other, euphoria rushing through their veins as their teasing had finally reached its goal.

Javier cupped her jaw and pressed his body against hers urgently, the jolt against the truck making the beer bottle fall and shatter on the ground, the loud noise and green glass on the pavement not bothering them at all as she pulled the soft curls on his nape and grazed her teeth against his lower lip.

His big hands slid down her waist behind her and grabbed her ass cheeks, pulling her up and making her wrap her legs around him for support, her short dress rolling up to her hips leaving her almost half naked on the street.

Using the leverage he had with the position, Javier ground his raging erection trapped inside his jeans against her core, covered only by already drenched black lace panties, earning a strangled whimper from her.

Part of him wanted to just pull her panties aside and take her right there on the street against his truck, raw and rough. But the other part wanted to take his time with her, after all it would be a shame to just resume the last few hours of teasing in just a few minutes. And also, he didn’t know if he’d had another shot with her after they got back to their professional facades.

“Are we getting inside your truck or you want to give our audience explicit content?” She tilted her head, indicating the group of people next to the club’s door, a few curious eyes lingering, waiting for their next step “Either way I’m in”

“You’re mine only, at least for tonight” His teeth dug on the soft flesh of her neck as he fished the car keys in his back pocket “But as long as I can fuck you I’m into anything you want, bonita”

Javier put her down and opened the truck’s back door, revealing the brown leather cushion dimly illuminated by the street lights.

He let her in first and watched with hungry eyes the way she crawled inside the vehicle and then rolled her body upwards, resting her back on the other door only to then slide her panties down and off her legs, spreading them open in a seductive way, offering herself to Javier, who hurriedly got inside the truck and closed the door behind him.

He pulled her by her ankle and hovered over her, his gaze connecting deeply to hers as he fished the panties she’d dropped on the car floor and put them in his back pocket, the simple yet unexpected action arousing her even more.

Javier’s hand made its way to her nape, bringing her head up for a breathtaking and passionate kiss, their hungry tongues invading and exploring each other's mouth as her fingers slid down the buttons of his shirt, undoing them without breaking their kiss.

As they devoured each other frantically, her hands explored his broad chest and abs, enjoying the feeling of his soft golden skin under her digits and the way his muscles flexed with the thrusting movements he made every now and then, purposely grinding his clothed erection against her exposed core.

Their kiss got sloppy as Javier’s hand found its way down her body, feeling her soft breasts, the curve of her hips then down the smooth skin of her thigh and leg, hooking it on his back before his hand slid up her body again but this time, skipping no beat towards her intimacy.

Javier growled when he finally felt how wet she really was for him, her arousal coating his fingers sliding up and down her pussy in feather-like touches just to tease her.

Whimpering, she rolled her eyes and clawed his back under his shirt when he increased the pressure with his digits and traced tight circles against her needy clit, her whole body melting under him as it got overpowered by shameless waves of pleasure.

Drinking in her sexed expression, Javier slid a finger inside her wanting a bigger dose of satisfaction out of the intoxicating woman under him. The unexpected invasion of his thick

finger made her moan louder and arch her back against his body, which only encouraged him to add another one right after, stretching her further, her slick pussy clenching around his fingers in response.

She bit his shoulder as he finger fucked her, his fingers massaging the magic spongy spot inside her as his thumb roled lazy circles on her clit, making her nails drag angry scratch marks down his back while her other hand pressed hard on the leather backrest, nails desperately digging in it.

Javier trailed small nips and kisses along her collarbone and neck while his fingers kepting working on her, all of it adding to the building pleasure in her lower stomach, getting her closer and closer to bursting at each expert rub of his rough digits against her clit and g-spot.

But she didn’t want to come yet, much less in that submissive condition.

Fighting against her own urges, she pulled his hand out of her, bringing it to her lips to lick her own juices off his fingers, her dark orbs drawing him in as she sucked his fingers suggestively, swirling her tongue around them.

“Now sit” She commanded, cheeks still red and heart racing from his finger fucking “And take of your shirt”

She didn’t need to ask Javier twice for him to comply, he knew she was close on his fingers, and now he wanted to see and feel what she had in mind.

Just as he took his shirt off and straightened his back against the seat, she straddled him and pulled down the top half of her dress, exposing her breasts, hard perky nipples at his mouth’s level and he couldn’t help but to dive in.

Javier fondled and squeezed them hard with both hands before he took a mouthful of one of them, teeth grazing the hard bundle of nerves, then rolling and sucking in with his flat tongue, and then repeated the same stimulation on the other one, feasting on the soft mounds before him as she unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans.

Catching up with her intentions, Javier lifted his hips from the seat, enough to take both pieces of clothes off, allowing her to undress him completely, all while he still delved into her breasts.

With his thick and hard manhood free, she spread his leaking precum over his tip with her thumb, tantalizing him before she finally took it and held it against her clit, rocking her hips back and forth, arching her back towards the front seat behind her and getting herself off against his shaft, her slick blending with his precum.

Javier broke apart from her chest to gaze down between them, his cock sliding easy against her drenched folds, teasing him shamelessly.

“Condom?” He asked, but only out of politeness.

“No” She leaned in, foreheads touching as she whispered against his lips “I wanna feel all of you”

Her answer got his cock impossibly harder and dying to feel her, and for his luck, she was also getting impatient.

Javier held his breath the moment she stopped her motions right when his tip was lined to her entrance, the thrill of anticipation of finally having her making his heart race faster as his hands flattened on her thighs.

“Tell me what you want” She demanded seductively, teasing his tip pressed against her opening, torturing him with slow rolls of her hips, threatening to slide down on him at any second.

“I want you, cariño” He gasped, chest heaving up and down.

“Yeah? And what do you want me to do with you?” One of her hands cupped his jaw and brought his lips close to hers, close enough to feel his ragged breath against hers.

“Ride me, bonita, I’m yours”

She placed a soft kiss against his lips before she leaned back between the front seats and placed her hand over her mound, fingers spreading her folds apart allowing him to have a full view of where his tip met her pussy, until she finally sank on his cock, her opening slowly welcoming and swallowing him in, his thickness stretching her walls each inch as his name came out of her lips in the sexiest moan he’d ever heard, and he swore that that scene alone was enough to make him cum.

But he needed to last, he needed to feel more of her, see her, have her, every detail in front of and on him, getting him terribly pussy drunk on her at each second as he felt their bodies merging and watched his cock disappear inside of her, her walls tightening around him in a slippery and warm embrace.

He threw his head back and rolled his eyes as she started to ride him at a deeply addictive pace, his fingertips digging in the flesh of her hips, pulling her harder down on him at each thrust forward.

“Eyes on me, Javi” Her command came out as a needy whine as her hand slid down his neck towards his shoulder, the skin slapping sounds getting louder as her bounces got harder.

Javier moved one of his hands to the back of her head, fingers tangling in the roots of her hair as he now thrusted his hips up to meet hers, the new and unexpected angle made her cry out his name again and dig her nails onto his shoulders, looking for an extra leverage.

He hooked his other arm on her lower back keeping her body against his, and the way she melted in his arms only made him keep on, thrusting harder and faster against her while she held onto him for her dear life.

Without disconnecting their bodies, Javier laid her on the backseat, eager to be the one fully in charge, especially because holding his release back was being a lot harder than usual.

One of his hands took support in the car’s windows, which was completely humid and foggy and entrentched with sex as he fucked her hard, her back arching and her walls tightening around him with her climax right around the corner.

She closed her eyes and moaned even louder as he put one of her legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to go even further, deeper and drive her into oblivion in record speed.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you” He demanded, bossy as the Javier Peña she was used to watch on duty, and that was the line for her to feel the knot on her lower belly snap hard, strong waves of white hot pleasure through her veins, making her cum hard and milk his cock looking deeply in his dark eyes.

The mesmerizing scene together with the clenching from her climax on his shaft also made him cum seconds after her, exploding inside her, his hot seed filling her in long spurts, the feeling of his dick throbbing inside her riding her high for a few extra seconds before they collapsed, the hand on the car window leaving a wet trail as it lazily slid down.

She moaned when he finally pulled out, instantly missing him inside her as he carefully took her in his arms and laid next to her, nestling her body against his, both their breathings and heart beats still racing fast.

“We have a problem now” He muttered looking at the car’s ceiling.

“What?” Her answer was low and unconcerned, too fucked out to care about anything at that moment.

“Office hours are gonna be challenging from now on.”

[pippytmi]

kacy + a break-up AU based on this prompt list: "you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital"

———————————————————————

The thing no one says about breakups is that they're an utter inconvenience.

Kate tries to rationalize it; she was dating Lucy Tara for twelve months and thirteen days, it's only natural to have established a routine that will take some time to unlearn. So when she wakes up and reaches for a warm body that isn't there, it still takes a while to remember why. And when she makes her morning coffee, maybe sometimes she will pour the creamer that Lucy likes by accident. (By the end of the week, she will have to pour the whole container down the drain). That’s normal too. Mostly.

Lucy’s absence hits the most in the morning, but Kate goes through the motions anyway. Before Lucy she would always take her coffee outside and sit on the balcony to watch the sunrise, so she still does it. Of course now there’s no Lucy wrapped up in a blanket and insistently making her way onto Kate’s lap to sleep while she does it, but. Kate sips from her mug and watches the clouds roll in over the gloomy horizon and pretends nothing has changed.

The drive to work is quiet save for the gentle patter of rain against her windows. Her radio is still set to the station Lucy likes, and Kate hasn’t managed to change it. Baby steps—that’s all it takes. Maybe tomorrow Kate might have the courage to switch it back to her own.

And when everything at home is too loud and simultaneously too empty, there’s work. Kate gets to her desk and finds a mountain of files with new assignments, and she welcomes them with open arms; her work has always been separate from Lucy, and it's the one constant she doesn't need to readjust to.

For a blissful hour and a half, Kate is in her own world. She argues with a client about what confidentiality means (and what it doesn't). She reschedules the deposition of a plaintiff on a particularly high-profile case because opposing counsel has accidentally double-booked. She creates an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of her new cases but organizes the clients by market value. 

By all accounts, her morning is shaping up considerably. That is, until her cell phone starts buzzing.

She ignores the first call from the unknown number flashing on the screen. Instead, she gets coffee from the awful machine in the break room. The second call comes thirty minutes later, and Kate ignores it again, spends her time politely explaining how to use the fax machine to her confused new paralegal.

When her phone rings a third time—just as Kate has gotten out of a grueling meeting with the senior attorneys which should've been an email—she answers it solely for peace of mind: “This is Kate.”

There's a brief shuffle on the other end. “Hi, I'm calling from St. Joseph Hospital for a Katherine Whistler?”

“Speaking,” Kate says curtly, prepared to give a spiel about how she won't donate at this time when the caller continues,

“Oh—good morning.” More shuffling. “Is this a good time? I have a sensitive matter to discuss.”

Kate frowns even if the person on the other line can't see it. “Yes, it's fine,” she says, and watches as her work phone lights up with another call that she will just have to return later. 

“I'm calling on behalf of a patient: Lucy Tara. She has you listed as her emergency contact. She is unresponsive and we were wondering if you could come in to discuss the particulars of her care…”

The rest of the call is static. Kate almost drops her phone entirely, only grasping onto select words like they're a lifeline. Lucy is alive. Lucy is hurt. Lucy was found unconscious. Lucy has yet to wake up. Lucy is alive.

Kate doesn't even tell anyone she's leaving; she just goes. Later, senior attorney Michael Curtis will tell Kate that she looked extremely pale and sickly when rushing out of the office, but Kate will only remember a vague blur from that phone call to actually arriving at the hospital. It might be the most reckless thing she’s ever done, come to think of it.

Dr. Carla Chase is the physician assigned to Lucy’s care, and she takes one look at Kate and blinks as if surprised to see her. “Forget an umbrella?”

“I'm sorry?” Kate says, heart caught dangerously high in her throat. She's literally choking on worry—Dr. Chase’s words don't sink in until she takes a step forward and realizes she is currently dripping all over the linoleum floor.

Dr. Chase gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “Let me ease your mind,” she says. “Ms. Tara woke up. Our timeline is good, she was not unconscious for long. Has a concussion and a nasty bump, but she's going to be just fine.”

Kate breathes. “Oh,” she says shakily, and embarrassingly, hot tears spring to her eyes at the confirmation. “That's…great. Thank you.”

“You can come inside, see her. I'll go find you a towel.” Even though Kate is a sopping mess, Dr. Chase still pauses to place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.

Even with the worst over, the hardest part is still walking into the room—harder still is watching as Lucy looks up with those wide, curious eyes that become expressionless the instant she sees Kate.

“Kate? What are you doing here?” Lucy asks, voice not quite harsh but definitely not welcoming.

Kate opens her mouth, but is unable to form words. She's too stuck just staring at Lucy: at the bruise that colors the entirety of the swell of her cheek, at the large bandage over her jaw, at the purpling of her black eye. Any relief at knowing that Lucy is awake sinks into horror at the state of Lucy’s injuries.

“Kate,” Lucy repeats, frowning. “Why do you look like someone died?” A beat. “And why are you wet?”

“The—the hospital called me,” Kate manages. “Are you okay? How are you…how are you feeling?”

“I'm fine. I just fell down a stupid mountain.” Lucy smooths down her blanket, twisting the corner between her fingertips the way she does when she's uncomfortable.

“A mountain?”

“It's not as dramatic as it sounds,” Lucy says. “Kai and I were searching for a missing kid and we got separated, and with the rain it was muddy and foggy and…well, you get it.”

“And he left you there? Unconscious?” Kate has met Kai Holman once or twice, and knows very little about him except that just like Lucy, he volunteers for search and rescue missions to escape his normal job. Beyond that, Kate’s opinion of him is quickly going downhill.

“He wasn't there when it happened,” Lucy argues. “I already texted him and explained, but, I told him he didn't have to come see me or anything.” She stops. “So why did you come?”

“Because the hospital called,” Kate says again, which is pretty self-explanatory.

Apparently, Lucy does not feel the same way. “But you didn't have to answer the phone,” she points out. “We’re not together. You could've just said ‘sorry, she’s my ex’ and called it a day.”

Kate stiffens. “You're the one who has me as your emergency contact. It was the…decent thing to do,” she says.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Okay, congratulations,” she says, “you have done your civic duty of not being an asshole. But I’m alright, so you can go back to deep-sea diving in your pantsuit or whatever you were up to before this.”

“Hold on,” Kate says, a flare of panic overtaking any objection she might have to Lucy’s disdain (which is completely unwarranted, by the way). “How are you getting home?”

“They’ve invented a modern miracle called an Uber, not sure if you heard.” Lucy waves her phone exaggeratedly. “I’ll survive.”

It's an out, and Kate should take it. She should walk out that door and never look back, let all the unsaid issues between them continue to morph and mutate into something ugly and irreversible. But she can’t. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Kate says at last.

Lucy immediately shakes her head. “That’s not necessary,” she says. “Seriously. If you’re that against Ubers, I can call Kai and get him here in two seconds. He’d be more than happy to take me home.”

“That would be unnecessary. I’m already here.”

“And you don’t have to be,” Lucy reiterates, staring Kate down like she expects her to cave.

If it were any other situation, Kate would. She's soaked head to toe from the rain, she has no obligation to be here, and by all accounts either reason would be a rational excuse to extradite herself from this hospital. Especially the former—the chill of her wet clothes is finally beginning to catch up to her, and she blindly brushes back her damp hair while resisting the urge to shiver. It would be the rational decision to go home and change into warm clothes (and explain to her boss why she left without as much as a text explaining why).

But for once in her life, Kate isn't being rational. “I'm not leaving,” she says, crossing her arms in an attempt to look firm. 

Lucy sighs, sagging backwards against her pillow. “Come on, Kate,” she says. “This is awkward enough. I don't need a babysitter after one tiny little fall.”

“Down a mountain,” Kate says, unable to let that fact go. “What do your parents think about this?”

“I…might've not told them. Exactly.” Lucy bites her lip in an obvious effort not to wince. “I asked for the day off when I woke up, so.”

Kate blinks. “You woke up after a traumatic fall,” she says slowly, “and…asked your parents for PTO.”

“I wouldn't call it traumatic. That's such an ugly word. Limiting, even,” Lucy says. “It would've been a total badass move if it hadn't been, you know, raining.”

A knock against the wall announces Dr. Chase’s arrival, who has thankfully brought Kate that towel. “How are we doing?” she asks.

“Ready to get out of here,” Lucy says, sitting up eagerly. “Whenever you say so, doc.”

“Well, I really would recommend a CT scan to be on the safe side,” Dr. Chase says. “But given that you've passed all our cognitive tests and your vision is good, I can consider a discharge…as long as you have someone at home to monitor you today and make sure no further symptoms arise. And no sleeping until your normal bedtime.”

“I’ll be with her,” Kate interjects as she towels off her hair. Lucy looks like she might argue, but her desire to leave must win out, because she doesn't speak up.

“Fantastic. Let me get your discharge paperwork and a prescription for some painkillers—all over the counter. Then we're going to have a serious discussion about what you should and should not do, okay?”

“Got it. Thanks, Dr. Chase,” Lucy says cheerfully, but the instant the doctor leaves, so does her smile. “What was that? You obviously can't stay with me.”

“I know,” Kate says defensively, even if—for a second—she had been completely prepared to. “I'm sure Ernie or Jane can monitor your symptoms just fine.”

“...yeah,” Lucy agrees slowly, as if she had been expecting Kate to argue. Then, “Oh, shit. I actually forgot to tell Jane I'm here.” She frantically opens her phone and starts texting up a flurry, her brow crinkling as she concentrates on her screen, and Kate is brought back to movie nights spent scouring Wikipedia articles and faux-arguing over date night picks and it's…too much.

This is the opposite of unlearning; this is an all too painful reminder that Lucy Tara is no longer in her life. Kate wrings the damp towel between her hands and takes a deep breath to save face. At the very least, Lucy doesn't seem to have caught on to Kate’s internal turmoil, because when she looks up again all the cheerfulness from before is back.

Kate knows in that instant she never wants Lucy to lose that cheer again. “Everything okay?” she asks, aiming for just-polite-enough interest, and Lucy is gracious enough to allow it.

“They found the missing girl,” Lucy says, sagging backwards in obvious relief. “Thank God.” When she smiles, even if it’s down at her phone, Kate nearly tears up all over again.

“That’s great.” Kate clears her throat, places her hands in her (wet) pockets, and tries very hard to act casual. “So is Jane going to stay with you, then?”

“No—she’s the one who found the kid, she has to stay and give the police a statement,” Lucy mutters, biting her lip distractedly as she types out another message. “I’ll see what Ernie’s up to.”

By the time Dr. Chase comes back with discharge paperwork and a spiel about avoiding screens (during which Lucy noticeably peeks at Kate, like she might rat her out), Kate has already resolved herself to zero interference. Obviously it’s not what she wants, but she listens to Dr. Chase and nods along at all the right times while in her head she is already drafting a very long message to Ernie with all the relevant information. Then she drives Lucy home to that bleak apartment that Lucy lives in mostly as a general “fuck you” to her parents, which Kate swears is either haunted or infested by very spirited roaches.

The entire ride there, Lucy doesn’t say anything about the car’s radio being set to her favorite station (and which  Kate would always complain about), which is just as well. Kate isn’t sure how she would’ve explained it.

“This not sleeping thing sucks, I’m honestly dead tired with our without a concussion,” Lucy groans as she exits the vehicle, stretching her arms overhead.

Kate follows her outside, and when Lucy gives her a questioning look, she says, “Ernie’s not here yet, is he? I can at least wait with you until he does.”

“I’m sure I can survive thirty minutes alone, Kate,” Lucy says. “I won’t pass out the instant you walk away or anything.”

“I’d really rather wait,” Kate says, and Lucy sighs.

“Fine. God, I would’ve changed my emergency contact ASAP if I’d known you would be such a stickler for lame hospital rules.” Lucy wraps herself up in a  large black hoodie which Kate recognizes as her own, still muddy from the fall but otherwise intact.

“Why did you?” Kate finds herself asking, mouth three steps ahead of her head, and Lucy pauses outside her apartment door.

“You mean why didn’t I change it? Because I forgot, I wasn’t exactly expecting to land in the hospital.”

“No, why…why did you make me your emergency contact in the first place?” Kate clarifies, her voice strangely quiet even to her own ears.

Lucy methodically unlocks her door, but her hands falter. “Just because,” she says at last. “You know how it is. Anything was better than my parents. Sorry I didn’t…ask you first.”

“Well, I mean,” Kate shrugs, “I didn’t ask you either.”

At that, Lucy whirls around, mouth agape. “You made me your emergency contact?”

Kate hesitates. “Yes? After like six months. It was a practical decision, we spent pretty much all our time together and I assumed…”

Somehow, she’s said the wrong thing, because Lucy’s eyes darken. “Right.” She moves away, digging through her fridge in search of something to drink, and Kate awkwardly leans against the kitchen counter and tries to make sense of what’s going on.

“Did you eat anything today?” Kate attempts to change the subject. “I can make you something before Ernie gets here.”

Lucy takes a gulp of a water bottle and doesn’t respond, just eyes Kate from across the kitchen with a sharp, unyielding glare. Finally, the words seem to burst out: “I wish you weren’t so—fucking—” She shakes her head. “Do you even know how you sound, sometimes? No girl wants to hear that they’re the practical choice. Just once, I wish you’ve would picked me because you wanted me.”

Kate feels her entire body prickle, partly in shock and partly in indignation. “What are you talking about? I did pick you.”

“Did you?” Lucy tilts her head. “”Cause it kind of feels like you picked the idea of me. At least, that’s how Cara tells it.”

“Seriously? Cara? She—” Kate pauses to exhale, swallows back a frustrated sob. “She’s wrong. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. Fuck, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” This time, her voice quivers like the sob might escape, and some of the steel in Lucy’s gaze softens.

“Then why did you leave?”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Kate says. “You were pushing me away, Lucy. What was I supposed to think?”

“You should’ve fought harder for me,” Lucy says. “You could have talked to me. Jesus, Kate, I don’t—I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m basically a prisoner in my house, this is the last thing I need.”

Kate’s shoulders fall. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that either,” Lucy snaps, and she chugs the remainder of her water before she stalks out of the room. “No apologies. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kate waits to see if Lucy will come back to the kitchen, but she doesn’t. Instead, she hears the tell-tale sound of Lucy banging around through her board game drawer, because the chess set Ernie gave her rattles and gives it away. Kate tentatively enters the living room, finds Lucy sorting through a Monopoly box, but doesn’t try to say anything else.

Lucy breaks the silence all on her own, eventually. “I have nothing to cook,” she says. “But I asked Ernie to bring food with him.”

“Alright.” Kate doesn’t sit down because her clothes are still damp, but she does wait by the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“No.” Lucy is sitting cross-legged on the floor and carefully stacking Monopoly money into piles by color, her muddy hoodie occasionally smearing against the carpet. “I’m fine.” She obviously isn’t; her jaw is clenched, her back stiff, her entire demeanor still a perfect mirror of her anger.

Kate wisely doesn’t push. And when Ernie arrives carrying Thai food and a thick stack of books which Lucy is outwardly horrified at, Kate doesn’t try to stay.

“I’m going to send you the doctor’s discharge instructions,” she tells Ernie instead, as Lucy gingerly pokes through one of the books Ernie has handed off. “Make sure Lucy eats something before she takes her meds.”

“On it, Dr. Whistler,” Ernie says seriously, his voice going low so Lucy can’t hear afterward. “And thanks, for being there. Even if you two aren’t…”

Kate casts one final look at Lucy Tara, bundled up in her clothes and adorably pouting at the prospect of reading all night instead of playing board games, and feels her heart beat so hard it hurts. “Take care of her,” she says, but it’s not a request.

Ernie gives her a small, sad smile. “I will.” 

Lucy doesn’t say goodbye, but she does spare Kate one brief, sorrowful once-over like she wants to. Kate memorizes that look—lets it linger in the back of her mind—and doesn’t cry until the first cheery pop song from Lucy’s favorite station starts playing on the drive home.

She hits the button to turn off the radio altogether, but her finger slips and she accidentally switches stations instead. Kate eases the car to a stop at a red light, watches as rain begins to drizzle once more, and then she makes the executive decision to switch it back.

Baby steps.

[rastronomicals]

8:18 AM EDT July 31, 2024:

Rumah Sakit - "Careful With That Fax Machine" From the album Rumah Sakit (2000)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: What the fuck is Math Rock

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks for the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Five

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 17.1k

Release date: June 26, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn, coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: A miscommunication has you bitter about your relationship with Seokjin. Will meeting one of his friends be enough to change you mind?

Chapter Warnings: swearing, miscommunication, Mingyu + Jungkook bff, Jungkook rides a motorcycle (that is a WARNING), masturbation (f+m), sex toys, pornography, alcohol, y/n is a messy drunk, a lil jealousy, SPOILER WARNINGS: oral (f,m), strength kink, spanking, slight brat behaviors, pet names, bigdick!Seokjin, slight exhibition kink, dirty talk, slight praise kink, unprotected sex, insecurity, traffic light system, consent, they're so stupidly down bad for each other, a little crying during sex moment, creampie

a/n: hello! finally, the moment we've all been waiting for! I appreciate your patience with this. I originally planned on a much shorter chapter, but I wanted to give our couple some time to really dig into their feelings for their first time, especially since they have so much at stake with each other. Just a reminder I'll be taking a short hiatus from TFTS to work on other creative projects, so I hope you treasure this chapter! -h

Seokjin fucked up. Right now, with everything so delicate, he should have known not to dive back into streaming. Not because of the awful energy last night, but because of his stupidity. When he stripped last night, he’d left his phone in his pants pocket. And in further stupidity, that pair of pants went through the wash this morning when he realized he had nothing clean to wear for work. 

He’d cradled the dead phone in his hands like it would have mercy on him and turn on. But it was too far gone. It hadn’t just been washed; it also went through the spin cycle. The screen was shattered, bits of glass echoing in the drum amongst a heavy thunk being the only thing that made him realize what he’d done. 

He didn’t have time to go get a replacement. Not with it being installation day for the new dishwasher in the restaurant. His phone would have to wait. He could wait. So long as he could get in contact with the delivery people on the phone in the manager’s office, he’d be fine. 

So he went in early, taking care of the next set of problems, one after another after another. The delivery people were late after taking the wrong turn, which meant the kitchen staff was handwashing all the dishes. That, plus the nice weather of spring seemed to have drawn more people in than usual. The restaurant was so busy, he barely saw you from open to when your shift ended. Whatever time that was. 

By the end of the day, as one of the part timers loaded the new dishwasher and peeled the protective film off the stainless steel front, everything seemed like it was finally in order. His father somehow found a fax machine on that cruise ship, which was boggling. Who was still sending faxes, much less on a cruise ship? And there was still a fax number associated with this place? 

Regardless, the contract work was finally settled and scheduled. No more stacking of appointments or missing payroll. He had gotten them back up on the cloud, and contacted the accounting service who luckily had stored everything from invoices to direct deposit information. Once he plugged everything back in, Seokjin realized things would be alright. 

He wanted to celebrate. Wanted to kick back with a beer and unwind from how stressful all this was. If he could make this transition smoother for his parents when they returned, leaving them with a much more efficient system and updated restaurant, he thought he could leave it behind a little easier and return to how things were before. 

A tightness squeezed his chest. What before would he be trying to return to? 

Would he go back to streaming more often? Is that how he wanted to keep paying his bills? In the time he’d been off, he’d felt like he was finally healing, finally good at something. Whether it was cooking or managing the restaurant’s problems, he had to give it to himself: he was a fair negotiator and probably not the worst manager that there ever was. 

Because he cared. When he worked in corporate, there were so many faceless names that he always delivered bad news to. No stories to anchor them to bodies. Just emails and phone calls. That doesn’t create much of a person to care about. 

But now, he knew each story, from one of his parents and why they decided to start a restaurant to the regular customers who always ordered the same thing to his employees. Every person was a person, and that made Seokjin care so much more than he’d ever thought he could. 

The idea of leaving that behind wrenched something in his chest. Did his parents know that the elderly white lady who came in and ordered mul naengmyeon even in the middle of winter did so because it was easier on her gums? Or that Mr. Lee was closing his vacuum repair shop because no one thought to repair vacuums anymore? The more Seokjin thought of all those familiar faces, the more he began to feel panicked. What would he do? Where would he go? 

What about you? Barely into the first year of your graduate program and already you had to take a break. Did your parents know this? 

Seokjin didn’t know much about this part of you, to be honest. He never wanted to push, though he noticed how you would talk around them and lead the conversation away from your family whenever you got the chance. Your parents were both still alive and married, he knew this. He knew you were an only child, that Wonwoo and you were childhood friends. 

But, did you have other friends? Now that he thought about it, he didn’t remember you ever mentioning anyone else that you spent time with. You weren’t from here, and that must have really tampered with the friendships you had back home. 

God, how had he been so clueless to not notice before? If you weren’t working or at school, you were streaming. You really didn’t take much time off from anything. And that was really sad. 

Especially because you were so great. You had the type of personality that his friends would love. He could see you and Namjoon talking about books. You had so many in that apartment, and while many of them were clearly romance novels, you had the classics too. 

You’d met Taehyung a few times when he came to mooch off of Seokjin for a free meal, and his puppy dog pout and awful jokes still drew laughter out of you. 

Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin. They’d like that you always put Seokjin in his place, never afraid to make fun of him or challenge him. 

And Yoongi. Yoongi would probably adore you the most. How gentle you were with others, yet protective of what you loved. How you were fighting to be the best version of yourself regardless of the challenges you faced. How you were thoughtful and filled the space with words that had a purpose, not just pointless chatter. You remembered the same faces in the restaurant as Seokjin, stepped in to help, to be part of a team. Those were things Yoongi always valued. 

You should meet them, he decided. He’d invite you to hang out with all of them in neutral territory. Let his friends see how great you were. And then you’d have friends here, in a place you could maybe learn to call home. 

Even if Seokjin was gone. 

His brother sent him the posting a few weeks ago. A major restaurant management company was looking for a financial consultant who would help develop new and repair existing restaurants’ financial strategy around the world. He’d sent in his resume without really thinking about it. And in the mess of today, he’d seen he received an email requesting an interview. 

Maybe Seokjin would leave Worldwide Handsome to go worldwide himself. He didn’t hate the idea. An excuse to leave streaming fully behind would be a nice end to things. 

What he hated, though, is that your time together was limited, and that job, if he was offered and took it, would shorten the window further. 

Once you started up with classes again, it would only be a matter of time. Summer would come. His parents would return. You’d drift apart further. 

Which is why he needed you to meet his friends. Needed to know that there was something he could do for you. 

He looked at the faded clock on the wall of the office. It was too late to go to the store and get a new phone. Hopefully no one had anything urgent to speak to him about. For the meantime, he knew his parents were resting on their cruise ship off Thailand? Italy? He couldn’t remember. His brother and sister-in-law and nephew were probably asleep now even though the sun still had left some lasting streaks of pink and purple in the sky. 

You were…well he didn’t quite know. Probably at home with your nose stuffed into a book. He could live with that. He could live with everyone being in the places he needed them to be. The world could turn to night once more without him being glued to his phone. 

Seokjin locked the doors of the restaurant. He watched the glow of street lights kick on. He’d get everything into place. Life goes on, right? 

Fuck Kim Seokjin. Fuck him and every stupid fucking man on planet Earth. How can he ghost someone he works with? Does he seriously just want you to quit?

You’d spent the following day waiting for an explanation. Seokjin is a man of many words when necessary. God knows you’ve heard him rant. So what was so goddamn hard about being upfront and honest? He spent all day running around in a frenzy, which you get, but he couldn’t even say hi? He couldn’t even text back with a “sorry I can’t make it”. 

That was two days ago. Your date was Friday. And you’ve gotten nothing in the form of a response. When you came to work today, he wasn’t there. You showed up early this morning to see if he was around so you could finally confront him, and sure enough, nothing.

Now, you’re trashed. All thanks to a “Happy Hour is Every Hour” A-frame outside of a gastropub near your apartment that makes their drinks strong and cheap and handed out bar nuts and a bottle of water the second you sat down. 

That was four drinks ago. Now, the word has a soft fuzzy glow to it, and if you’re not sitting here pissed off at Seokjin, you’re two seconds from calling him up and confessing how obsessed you are with him. And that also makes you want to cry. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you started drinking. What you do know is there’s chicken and beer being shuttled over to your table and the wait staff keep staring at you. 

“Thank you,” you slur as you reach for the piping hot rib meat before your server can even set the plate down. 

“Ah, no be care–”. But it’s already too late. The hot oil touches your fingertips and you jolt, throwing the fried food onto your table as you reach for your water, uncapping it and pouring it onto your hands, and consequently, the tabletop. 

You try to apologize, the words glooping together into some string of nonsense as the gossipy waitstaff veer over to the table, whipping white towels out of their aprons and wiping up your mess. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter again, but you know they can’t hear you, too busy tutting at you and pointing at the steam rising from your food. They don’t say it, but you can understand the tone: you should know better. 

You’ve now caught the attention of just about every other after-work Happy Hour goer, all flushed from the alcohol but more composed than you probably appear (and are). 

You resolve to try pulling yourself together, guzzling down the remainder of your water and taking occasional sips of beer between bites of juicy chicken. Though, how much worse can having a big fat crush on your boss–who is also a gay camboy yet straight– be? Surely the people who run this place have seen worse. 

Shit, you’ve seen worse and Seokjin’s family restaurant isn’t even a major hub for after work drunkards! One time a woman in six inch stripper heels and a Tina Turner wig came in asking you if you’d found a loose pig. You stood there speechless as she called for him. And what’s stranger is that it wasn’t even a pig. It was a man on a leash with the word “P.I.G.” written on his shirt. On the back, the shirt said “Pussy is God”. 

Therefore, overhearing your drunken blubbering is, in your opinion, the least chaotic thing that can happen to these people tonight. 

You pop a pickled radish into your mouth as you take in the crowd around you as they finally turn away and go back to the bubbles they live in. None of these people know what you’ve gone through the last few days. How the sharp sting of rejection paints every decision you make with a shade of insecurity. 

You want to talk to him about it. You want to sit in your apartment with him and cry over how he treated you. You want him to apologize for being an asshole and prove he’s not just like other guys. 

But there’s a sinking fear that he really is this way. That these behaviors are intentional, and you are actually wrong about him. 

And how fucking dare he if that’s intential. What a classless and petty thing to do. Someone should put him in his place. Maybe you should put him in his place. 

With that stroke of genius, you dial his phone, impatiently sighing as you are immediately redirected to the voicemail. The beep instructing you to leave a message pours you a shot of confidence. 

“Hey, it’s me…..Y/N. Listen, you can’t just keep ignoring me. How stupid and cruel of you to just agree to go out with me and then ghost me afterward and at work? Fuck you dude. Seriously, have some fucking class. Honestly, how hard is it to say no? ‘Oh sorry, Y/N I can’t’ is all I needed.” You drop your voice to mimic his. 

“Seriously, we work together. I really thought you would be different about other guys and have some decency to just be honest. And maybe that’s what’s missing here is honesty! So let me just be honest. I know you are a camboy. And at first it was weird yeah but like…I don’t care. Because I liked you. And you liked me right? Well, maybe not. I guess I was wrong. God, alllllll you men are the fucking saaaaaame. And you keep getting away with this shit! But I’m done! I’m so done with it all! You know what? Don’t bother getting back to me. I quit!” 

You hang up, satisfied, and dig into a chicken wing. As you suck the meat from the bone, you see a tattooed hand tap the table. 

“What,” you ask, annoyed. You really don’t have it in you today to deal with some douche bag hitting on you. When you look up, you see a guy in a black baggy T-shirt and jeans. His big doe eyes and rounded nose look down at you with a glint of sympathy. 

“Uh, Y/N?” He says softly. 

You squint at him, trying to place him in the sea of people you know. Is he one of your classmates? Or does he know you from streaming? He’s not a regular at the restaurant is he? He doesn’t register as familiar at all. You open your mouth to speak, but before you get the words out, he’s talking again at rapid speed.

“Sorry! I don’t want to bother you. Um, you don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Seokjin’s.”

A hot prickle of anger and embarrassment punches your gut. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Uh, I don’t want to bother you, but I noticed you were really upset and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He glances over at the empty glasses on the table. 

“I’m fine,” you say reflexively. “Just been having a bad weekend.”

“Ah,” the stranger says, furrowing his eyebrow. “I can understand that. Do you uh…do you want to talk about it?” 

He shifts onto his heels, rocking back and forth slightly. It makes you feel dizzy just looking at him. 

“No, no I’m good.” 

“Got it, sorry. I know that might be weird. Just thought maybe you’d need somebody to talk to.” 

“And what gives you that impression? A random stranger who is disrupting my night sure seems to know so much about me for no particular reason.” 

“Oh, I have a reason. Hyung–uh, Seokjin– he means a lot to me.”

You wait for him to go on, but instead he bites at a piercing on his lip. 

“I don’t really see how that’s relevant.” 

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. Um, I…you know what? Never mind. So, listen. My uh, my friend is the owner of this restaurant. And they don’t want other people to have a bad experience here.” 

You blink at him. “That’s..great?” What does this guy want from you? Why is he sharing this? 

“It is! And so um…” he holds up a take out container. “He wanted me to bring you this.”

“Okay? I’m not finished yet, though. I was going to finish this beer first.” 

He nods and you see a blush color his cheeks. “Sure, but you see, some people have complained. And he just. He would like it if you finished your food at home instead.” 

An awful silence rings out between you and you glance around. Other patrons of the restaurant are glaring at you. From behind the checkout counter, you can see a very tall man standing with his arms crossed, wearing a pained expression. He, too, is blushing. 

You glance back at the doe-eyed man. “He…you are kicking me out?” 

His eyes go wide and he starts waving his hands in front of him. “Ah, um! No, no one is kicking you out! Mingyu is a puppy, he means no harm. He just…last week someone stole all the change in the drawer and now things are really tight for him and he can’t afford to lose business.”

Mingyu, you now know he’s named, drops his head into his hands and sighs. 

“Got it,” you say through gritted teeth. Jesus, can today get any worse? You stand up, and suddenly the world is tipping sideways and being pulled out from under you. 

“Whoa, whoa!” The stranger says. You close your eyes, ready to hit the tile floor. But it never happens. Instead, the weight of your back is being held by something sturdy, and your wrist on your right arm is clamped onto tightly. You open your eyes and see him beaming down at you, his eyes wide. “Careful there.” 

“JK!” Someone calls out. “You know where she lives?”

“Nah and Hyung isn’t answering whenever I try calling him,” the stranger shouts back. Your right ear is ringing, sensitive to the loud noise. 

“SHH! God, right in my ear! Jesus! I’m fine. I can get myself home! I’m not some weak damsel in distress.” You slap his hands away and find your footing on the sticky floor. 

JK, you assume, holds his hands up in surrender. “Noona, I’m not saying you are. But you are really drunk, and I can’t let you leave when you can’t even walk.” 

You snort. “So I need to leave but I can’t? What kind of riddle is this for me to solve? Are you a troll that lives under a bridge? I can’t leave until I solve your riddles three?” 

He chuckles. “No, more that I am going to take you home. Here, get your food in this, I’ll get my keys.”  

“Don’t bother,” you say, scooping the still-warm food into the container. A part of you is mourning how soggy this is going to be later. 

“Please, Y/N don’t fight me on this,” JK says softly. 

“I’m not,” you insist. 

“Then let me drive you home.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Then why–”

“Because I live like two blocks that way.” You point. 

His tight jaw slackens as he follows your hand, peering out toward the direction of your place.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, and scoop up the container, glancing down at the empty drinks. In a last minute decision, you lift up your glass of beer and chug the rest of it down. 

JK sighs and shakes his head when you deposit the empty glass into the nest of the others. “Was that really necessary?” 

“Yes,” you reply, walking toward the cash register. JK walks through the swinging kitchen doors, you assume to grab his keys. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mingyu says, waving his hand. 

What? No way. You try to do the mental math, but at this point, you’ve lost count of how much anything costs. One thing you know: this meal wasn’t cheap. 

“No! No, I want to pay. I’m sorry I was so disruptive. Please let me–.”

JK reappears, carrying a leather jacket, backpack, and motorcycle helmet. “Ah, Noona, don’t worry about it. I already paid.” 

He what? Who the hell is this guy? 

“Oh,” you say awkwardly, glancing up at Mingyu. “Well..thanks.” 

“Yeah. Uh, you’re welcome. Get home safe. Maybe drink some water when you get there.” He steps away from the counter and grabs a gray plastic bin, shuffling over to your table to bus it. 

“Ready?” JK asks and you nod, following him out the door. 

“Are we really going to take your motorcycle a few blocks?” 

He laughs. “Why? Are you scared?”

Yes. “No. Just feels like a waste of gas.” 

“Sure. But I also was probably going to go to Seo-somewhere after this so it would make sense to take it. But if you’re nervous about it, we can walk.” 

“I’m not nervous. It’s just a waste of gas.” 

“Okay, Y/N.”

“Okay, JK,” you mock. He begins walking along the sidewalk in the general direction of your place and pauses at a shiny black Harley, scooping up a second helmet from the seat. 

“That’s not my name.” 

“Then what is your name?”

“Jungkook.” 

He looks at you and smiles, holding out the helmet he had in the restaurant. You stare at it, not making a move to grab it. 

“No? Well, I guess we’ll walk.” 

You’re not sure why you grab the helmet but do. You’ve never been on a motorcycle; they have always terrified you how they weave through traffic and tight alleyways, zip through intersections and rev themselves at lights in some grand show of ego. But Jungkook doesn’t look like any of the biker dudes you’ve seen with long beards and bandanas. He looks almost like an innocent kid. But with tattoos and piercings. 

His smile widens as you scoop up the helmet and plop it onto your head, letting Jungkook adjust the chin strap’s tightness. 

“Are you sure I’ll fit on this?” You ask, eying the incredibly small passenger “seat” off the back of the bike. Who even fits on these? Children riding illegally? 

“Huh?” He looks between you and the bike, scanning your body up and down as he tries to do math. 

“Yeah,” he decides and nods. “Yeah I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” 

So you hoist yourself onto it, trying not to tip the heavy machine over in your jolt. Jungkook clips his helmet on and hands you his backpack. “I’ll need you to wear this though. Otherwise it’ll squish you.” 

You loop the straps over your arms and reposition yourself. Jungkook easily navigates his leg over to the other side, using his left food as a grounding while he holds the bike up. 

“Okay, let’s go!” He says enthusiastically and you chuckle before realizing he has no idea where you’re going. 

“Oh, uh you’re going to head that way for about three blocks. Then turn right.” 

He nods and then inserts the key into the ignition, turning it on. Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his thin waist, and as you whip down the main road toward your apartment, the chill of the spring air on breezing across your arms feels a little bit like freedom.  

When you arrive, you do the polite thing and invite Jungkook in to prove that you are not so inebriated that you’ll aspirate and die in your apartment. You even drink an extra glass of water to ensure he believes you when you say you’re fine. You’re mostly tired now, the exhaustion of the week and Seokjin’s rejection heavy on your body. 

“Well, thanks,” you say, signaling it is time for Jungkook to leave. 

“You’re welcome. And Noona, I’m sorry about Mingyu, he really didn’t mean any harm.” 

“I understand, I was kind of a lot.” You say, the haze of the restaurant fading into the night. All the things you were mad about are starting to seem quite immature. You pause, realizing something. 

“God damnit! I left my chicken there!” 

Jungkook laughs and shrugs. “Well, it’s a good thing I know the owner. I can always get you a fresh order if you want it?” 

You mull it over for a second before shaking your head. “It’s fine. I probably don’t need it anyway. It was just comfort food during a bad week.” 

“You mentioned you were having a hard time. I hope you feel a little bit more at ease now that you ate and got more water into you.” 

You sigh. “No, not really. I am starting to feel a little stupid for the phone call I had earlier.” 

“Oh yeah, I overheard a bit. So what was that all about? Mad at a friend or something?” 

“Yeah,” you say and Jungkook’s smirk drops. 

“Hyung? What did he do?”

“It’s…it’s not a big deal really. He just…we were supposed to…hang out the other night, and he blew me off.” 

“Oh, that’s not really like him. I’m sorry that happened.”

“Not your fault,” you say, smiling up at Jungkook.

A beat passes and Jungkook sniffs, glancing around at your place. “So, about Seokjin-hyung.” 

You raise an eyebrow in question. Where exactly is this going? When you don’t say anything, Jungkook looks over at you. 

“Well, h-he’s not a bad guy. Really. I hope you know that.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask. 

“Doing what?” 

“Building a case for him. All your friends really. Trying to mediate on their behalf.” 

Jungkook glances down and sighs. “I don’t know. But we aren’t talking about me right now.” 

“Are we even talking about anything? We’re strangers.” 

“Have you considered that people become friends instead of strangers by sharing things about themselves?”

You wince. “I don’t like you.” 

Jungkook splits into laughter and you can’t help but chuckle in response. He’s charming, but you don’t need him to know that. 

“Fair enough. I’m just saying, Seokjin he…he’s really a good guy. Practically raised me. Although sometimes I think I’m more mature than he is. But he’s had a rough time lately with all the stuff happening with the restaurant and his family coming back soon. I think he’s just not entirely sure who he is, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you.” 

You sigh, defeated. 

“Take care, Y/N. I hope to see you around.” Jungkook walks toward the door, turning the knob. 

“Hey, wait,” you say. You feel a little guilty as you sober up. You’ve been bratty all night to the poor kid; you could cut him some slack. 

“Thanks for helping me out tonight,” you say sheepishly. 

“Anytime. Really. Although maybe we can avoid making this a habit. I’d like to meet you again when you aren’t drunkenly shouting at my hyung over the phone.” Jungkook picks up his spare helmet off the floor and waves, and then slides through the door and into the dark. 

For a few minutes you stand there, trying to balance the scales of the weekend, from the ghosting to the drunken calls to running into one of Seokjin’s closest friends who drove you home on the back of his Harley. Your head feels like it’s spinning. 

What are you supposed to do about any of this? You’re not sure. Jungkook told you that he was basically raised by his friend, and that touches something really soft within you. You’re not surprised. Look at how good of a mentor he’s been to you in the kitchen staff? It’s not common for bosses to take time out of their schedule to train you, especially before the place even opens. 

But that’s Seokjin’s dedication. He cares. And that’s also why this rejection hurts. Because you know that if he’s being this way to you, it can only mean that you did some unknown thing that has driven him away from you. And it has to be big enough for him to ignore you all day? 

What if he’s seeing someone? What if he’s trying to create distance with you? Your head spins with all the ideas and you need any details. Anything. 

You practically run to your computer, typing in Worldwide Handsome’s website address and searching the performer tab. You don’t have to scroll long. He’s one of the top streamers of the year, and you see that he has a stream that happened Friday night on his replay list, but it’s blocked behind a paywall. Did that asshole seriously stream on Friday instead of hanging out with you?

You pause for approximately two seconds before you begin typing your credit card information in. You need to be sure. In a matter of seconds, all of Seokjin is everywhere; there are photos of him, clothed and naked. Some are crystal clear in quality, looking almost professionally taken, every ridge of his hard cock portrayed through pixels. You feel heat creep into your chest and cheeks, almost like you’ve just taken three shots of vodka. 

As it turns out, the alcohol’s effects paired with Seokjin’s own hotness have you pulling the fabric of your shirt away to try and get some proper air. After a moment, you decide you’re done wrestling with it and strip it off. It’s your apartment, you have a right to walk around topless if you want. And pantless. You feel the cool air wick away some of the heat from the back of your knees as you slide the pants down. Much better. You probably smelled like fried chicken anyway. 

You look back at the screen, your entire monitor displaying an HD photo of Seokjin in the middle of an orgasm, his neck thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing as he squeezes the head of his cock. His hands and stomach are messy with a milky, somewhat translucent load of cum. You squirm a little in your seat, feeling the heat that was once flushing your body send a sharp flicker of desire to your core. What is it you’re supposed to be doing? 

You blink a few times at the screen before exiting out of the photo gallery and heading into the video playlists. Ah, you remember when you see the most recent stream. Research. Because he’s avoiding you. A sharper, more painful throb stabs through your chest, carrything with it the sting of anxiety.

You need to know how you can fix this. You take a deep breath and load in the video. 

“Hi Everyone,” Seokjin says, a lazy wave fanning into the shot. “It’s been a while.” You study his face, he seems sad and upset. Is this really the same Seokjin you saw at work two days ago? He seemed a little stressed, sure, but not like this. 

Seokjin greets some of the names of people who must have responded to his chat. After a few minutes, he smirks. “I needed this. I missed you guys, too.”

Has he not been regularly streaming? You never really thought to look again after you stumbled upon him a few months ago. Okay, that’s a lie. You’ve definitely thought to check on him at least a hundred times, but you promised yourself that you wouldn’t peek. He deserves privacy. 

But now as you’re learning, he hasn’t been consistently online in months. Where has he been? Have you really been taking up that much of his time with your own streams? Your chest follows the sharp pain up to your throat, where guilt nestles itself in. 

He’s seeing someone. He’s got to be. Pulling away from streaming makes all the more sense if he’s dating someone. All that horny, intimate energy has to be directed somewhere? It only makes sense that he would direct it onto someone. 

Jealousy sours your stomach. Maybe he realized that you were intending for this to be a date on Friday and didn’t know how to let you down. So he just did this instead? Why does none of this make sense? 

Seokjin has a few more conversations in the next few minutes, but nothing really stands out. He seems guarded. Sheesh, how lovesick is this guy?

As he wraps up his conversations, you see his face fall in between words as he reads the screen that is determining what type of toy he has to use. Eventually, it is decided upon a vibrating cock ring, and you watch curiously as he places the device down his shaft and balls, snuggly resting at the base. As people donate, the ring vibrates. 

You don’t feel like this is going to give you what you need. It’s certainly hot to watch at first, but it also isn’t helping you understand him better. Even still, you don’t click away, and for the next hour, you watch the recording, his tired eyes becoming all the more lifeless as he approaches his orgasm. Honestly, it feels a bit sad. Not long after he cums, he ends the stream. 

This is not like the one you’ve seen before. In that stream he was passionate, domineering, and direct. Now, you’re not even entirely sure if he was turned on. You begin cycling through older streams, trying to find a date of when all this started. 

How long has he been seeing her? How come you were too stupid to realize it before? You study each video for clues, looking for moments when he might mention something that shows around the time he started closing off to his audience. Nothing promising. 

Until this one, one where he’s softer than usual, more submissive. He goes soft a few times even in this stream, despite the fact that he’s engaging with his audience, he’s giving them everything they could ever want. You watch as he grinds down on a pink dildo, gasping for air, little moans popping out of his chest. 

If you didn’t know him as well as you thought you do, you might believe it. You’ve watched enough of his videos now (including the one you caught live), to see how Seokjin looks when he’s turned on versus when he’s performing as Jin. 

A little buzz comes over the speaker and Seokjin’s eyes look past the camera, presumably toward the source of the sound. Then, like a switch, something happens, and he grows harder in his jerking hand, a flush creeping up onto his chest, his rhythm changing to form a steadier, lighter grind on the toy. But what lets you know that he’s truly, really turned on, is that his moans are not high pitched at all. They’re deep. Fuck. 

“Fuck,” he mimics, a low chuckle coming out of his chest. He’s closed his eyes, more invested in his fantasy. 

Shit, this is getting hot. You squirm a bit in your seat again, trying to focus. You’re looking for clues, remember?

“Yes, yes, that’s it. Right there,” Seokjin groans. You rasp a breath, which has become more erratic as the head of his cock becomes deeper in its blush. You can’t help it. This is what he does, how he affects you. He could be completely clothed or fully naked in this moment, and you would still be just as wet as he’s making you from using that voice. You reach down between your legs, trapping your hand in between to relieve some of the pressure. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” 

What? 

No. There’s no absolutely no way. You must be imagining it. Your stomach does a little flip out of hope anyway. 

“Mmm, I’m close. Fuck!” He changes the tactic for stroking himself, now flicking his wrist and squeezing his tip. You can see the bead of precum that is leaking out. 

You must still be so drunk that you’re running away with your fantasies. No. 

“Y/N,” he says again, clearer. And then, Seokjin orgasms, lifting his hips so his cock can thrust into his hand, droplets of cum spurting from the tip, dappling his thighs and stomach.

“Oh my god,” you say as the information all starts to click into place. “Oh shit.”

“Hyung, open up!” 

Seokjin rubbed his eyes, trying to understand what the hell was going on. What time was it? When he glances at the clock in his dark room, it says 1:43AM. Which is weird, because didn’t he go to bed last night after the sun came up? Maybe his clock was wrong and it meant 1:43PM instead of AM. 

But that was the least of his worries. Instead, he was heading toward the door, where one of his dongsaengs was beating on his door like he was intent on breaking it down. 

He pulled it open, and found Jungkook standing in front of him, his hair sticking out in weird places. He looked like he just had sex. 

“What are you doing here, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook’s eyes looked anxious and he nodded. “Can I come in?” 

Seokjin moved away from the door frame, holding out an arm to let his friend in. “Is everything okay?” 

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? I’ve been trying to call you all day and your phone is off.” Jungkook said as he stepped into the apartment and unlaced his boots. 

“Ah, that. It went through the wash this morning. I think I’ll leave here soon to go get my new one.”

“Are there phone stores open this late?” Jungkook asked, furrowing his eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that it’s almost two o’clock in the morning on a Monday. I don’t think someone is going to be open to sell you a new phone.”

“It’s not Monday, it’s Sunday.”

“I think I know the seven days of the week, hyung,” Jungkook scoffed and pulled out his phone, showing the display to Seokjin. He was right. It was Monday. 

“Holy shit. That means I slept through my entire Sunday! I was supposed to get a new phone today!” 

“Well, I guess your body was in sleep debt or something and you needed the rest. Anyway, as much as I love being Father Time and all, that’s not why I came here. I need to tell you something.”

He couldn’t help it, but as he heard his friend speak, Seokjin’s pulse increased. Nothing ever came from that sentence. But before he could even begin to think about what life altering event happened that would change him and Jungkook’s friendship forever, the youngest was already walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

Jungkook unscrewed the cap and took a long chug. “Sorry, thirsty. It’s been a long night. Listen, I was just at Y/N’s.”

Of all the things Seokjin was anticipating Jungkook to say, that wasn’t it. His stomach dropped as he further took in the rumpled appearance of his friend. 

“Wh-what? You were hanging out at her house at 1 in the morning? H-how did this happen? I didn’t even know you guys knew each other.”

Jungkook blinked at his friend for a moment, realization dawning on him. “Oh, no, nothing like…intimate happened hyung! I met her tonight. I was at Mingyu’s and she was there!” 

“Well that makes me feel so much better now!” 

“What? You don’t think I would sleep with her, do you?”

“Well you really weren’t holding much back a few months ago when you saw her streaming!” 

“I…okay so she’s really pretty and I did give her a ride on my bike back to her place but that’s the most we touched! I swear!”  

The sickness of jealousy pulled at his stomach.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said lightly. “I would never betray you like that. You’ve been interested in Y/N for a long time. And I know that.” 

He was right. And Seokjin knew that, too. He took a deep breath. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Jungkook smiled softly, and then sighed. “I just want you to be happy, hyung. Which is why I came over here right after I dropped her off. She was trashed. Mingyu kicked her out, and you know he’s too chicken shit to ever kick anyone out. But she was on the phone yelling about something and I recognized her. She had drunk herself under the table and was trying to finish a 4-person platter of chicken by herself. 

“And that’s not all, either. Uh, when I started talking to her, I learned what she was really upset about. Hyung, why did you blow her off about your date?”

“What? We didn’t have a date planned.” 

“Are you sure? Because I heard her leave you a voicemail saying that if you didn’t want to go out with her, you should have said so instead of blowing her off two nights ago and that you have ghosted her.” 

Seokjin furrowed his brow. It didn’t sound like you to behave so erratically. Did you get that drunk that you were thinking of things that never happened? When was it that you’d even spoken last?

He retraced the past three days, from him washing his phone this morning…or yesterday morning to work, to the Worldwide Handsome letter, to two days ago when his father began the chaos by sending over half the forms needed. That full day of sleep really was throwing him off. He’d talked to you that morning, hadn’t he? 

About going to that restaurant you’d wanted to try. He’d gotten a late reservation. That he completely forgot about because of everything else. 

“Fuck,” Seokjin said, running his fingers through his hair. 

“What? Oh, hyung, Don’t tell me it is true.” 

“I–it completely slipped my mind. I was supposed to take her out to dinner. It was going to be maybe our first step toward dating. God, I didn’t mean to forget! I was just so overwhelmed with everything that when the time came I was streaming instead.”

“Well, I’m not sure how she’s going to really be understanding about you spending your Friday night jacking off for a couple hundred people for cash instead of taking her out.”

“She doesn’t know I stream.”

Jungkook coughed on the water he had just swished into his mouth. 

“What? Seokjin-hyung, why not? How has it not come up in the last few months of you helping her with her stream?”

“I don’t know! Because she somehow sees the qualities I possess while streaming in me as the manager. And besides, I am the manager. Which means I’m her boss and talking about me ‘jacking off for money’ as you choose to call it is inappropriate for a work environment!” 

“Are you having conversations about this in the work environment?”

“No, of course not!” Seokjin said. “What kind of manager do you think I am?”

“That’s not the point,” Jungkook said. He sighed. “The point is if you aren’t having those kinds of conversations at work, then why are you so bent out of shape to not tell her? And also, you won’t be her manager for much longer.” 

Jungkook had a point. “Look,” he said. “I fucked up. I forgot to take her out, and now I need to apologize or something.”

“She was really upset,” the youngest said, eyes flickering a bit in the dim kitchen light. “Like, I think she really really likes you.”

“How do you know that?” His friend had always been perceptive, but Jungkook was also sometimes a little naive. 

“Well, when I finally convinced her to leave and let me give her a ride home, she seemed really responsive to what I told her.” 

“What did you tell her?”

“To cut you some slack. That you probably didn’t mean to blow her off. That you care a lot about everyone and everything and have been going through some stuff.” His eyes softened, and he carded his tattooed hand through his overgrown hair. 

Seokjin felt his chest tighten. Jungkook had always been so good to him. It didn’t matter that he was the youngest; his heart and eyes were always big with love and wonder, ready to receive all the love in the world and give it all back tenfold. 

“Thanks, Jungkook-ah. That means a lot.”

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully, chewing on his lip ring. “I just want to see you happy.”

“I know. God, I know. And I like her so much. She’s so funny and sweet and beautiful. Sometimes I’ll come over to her place and we will just sit quietly around each other not talking. And then sometimes we talk for hours about everything. I have really started to…maybe fall for her.”

“Oh, hyung, have you told her any of that?”

“No, I…I thought it might slip out of me soon enough. And I guess it did, just she’s not here to actually hear it.” 

“I think you should start there and tell her how you feel in your apology. Otherwise what else are you going to do? Be miserable?”

Seokjin thought for a minute about how agonizing the last few days must’ve been for you. You’d been around him at work and he was too busy to talk. You not getting a response from him for the last few days was probably incredibly confusing and he didn’t know if he could wait until later this week when your shifts aligned to talk to you. 

He walked Jungkook over toward the door, grabbing his car keys off the hook near the entry. 

“Actually, I’m going to go over there. And then I’m going to beg for mercy.” 

You keep replaying those two parts over. Watching closely as Seokjin calls to you from the edge of arousal before tipping over into pure bliss. For now, you have it paused on the moment right before he says your name again and cums. 

He wants you. Or he did at some time. Which means it could very well still be true. Seokjin masturbates to you. He fantasizes about you. You turn him on as much as he turns you on. The vibrator you have suctioning your clitoris buzzes deeper as it scoots over the bud, making a lower groan when it finds a part of you that’s more wet than the rest. 

“Shit,” you say as you feel yourself getting closer to cumming. You pluck at your nipple with your free hand, continuing to move the shoved bra cup out of the way so you can enjoy the prickle of desire pulling toward the surface of your skin. 

You clench around nothing as you watch Seokjin pump his thick cock with one hand. You’re aching to be filled, but you also are too far gone now to move. You will have to orgasm this way,

getting at least some relief before the next. You have time now, the haze of alcohol fading from your bloodstream. It’s almost as if becoming horny made you sober up faster. 

You adjust the settings on the vibrator, upping the intensity. 

So close. You’re almost there. All you need is–

“Y/N?” You hear Seokjin call from somewhere. Your eyes flit to the screen, expecting to see the video unpaused. But that Seokjin is frozen in time. 

A knock echoes through your apartment.

Oh god, Seokjin is here? Right now? 

You quickly flip off the vibrator, chucking it to the floor in your pile of sweaty clothes from earlier. You exit out of the screen, noting that it’s almost 2:30 in the morning. What is he doing here so late? 

You adjust your panties back into place and pull your bra back over your breasts. In a panic, you throw the first thing you see long enough to cover you up and head to the door. 

When you open it, Seokjin is real and standing right in front of you, face flushed and panting. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper-shout. Now is not the time you want to disturb your neighbors. 

“Please, can I come in?” Seokjin asks urgently, and you nod. 

He steps through the door, closing it behind him carefully. 

“I-I fucked up.” He says. 

You wait for him to finish. He doesn’t. 

“Oh, um, with what?” Playing nonchalant doesn’t serve you. 

“With what? With you. And I’m sorry. Y/N I completely forgot about our date. I honestly have been so overwhelmed with all the new things happening at the restaurant that it slipped my mind. And I haven’t had a phone the last few days, so I haven’t been able to text you.” 

So that explained his ghosting. And him streaming. 

“Oh.” 

“I just. I’m going to come out and say it. I like you. A lot, Y/N. And I do want to take you out to dinner. And I’m also so sorry for not communicating with you. A lot’s happened in the last few days. But I need you to know that I’m sorry.” 

Seokjin looks at you, eyes shimmering, a little wet like he might cry. Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

“You like me?” 

“Yes, I thought it was obvious.” 

“What do you mean you thought it was obvious? You’ve done nothing that would make me think that!” 

Seokjin blushes. “I-I’m sorry. I have been so nervous for a long time that I swore I wouldn’t make the first move until you did. And I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same, I promise you I’ll get over it. But I like you.” 

Seokjin likes you. 

Your brain immediately wants to refute it. No, you couldn’t possibly like me. You’ve mistaken me for someone else. Someone else with my name. Not me. 

“I…”

Ask if he has a fever, if he’s drunk. There’s just no way he could be serious about this. Is this a joke? Please don’t let this be a joke. 

“Oh, uh. God I’m such an ass, I should’ve known. Never mind. I…I should maybe go.” He looks you up and down, and you see his cheeks go beet red. Your eyes follow his gaze down to your ensemble.

Oh, that’s right. You’re standing in front of him wearing some ratty panties and a bra…and his shirt. 

Seokjin’s eyes go wide, and he casts his gaze away. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“No! No, it's fine! You can look!��� You say quickly. “I mean, no, don’t go. I…I’m sorry I just am so not good at this and am having a hard time processing it. You like me. Me. Right?”

He nods, eyes still not looking your way. 

“Okay. Okay. Great. This is good! Um, fuck. I like you too. Sorry, I maybe should have led with that.” 

His head snaps in your direction, eyes now fixed completely on yours. “You do?” 

“I thought it was obvious,” you say, repeating his own words back to him. A huge smile blooms on his face. 

He closes the distance between the two of you, pulling your arms you were using to shield yourself for a bit of decency away from your body. You happily concede, wrapping them around him for a tight squeeze. 

He feels like home. There’s no other way to describe it. Security, safety, as if he fits in with the mismatched shelves in the living room. His scent floods into your nose, and you revel in it. It’s long since left his shirt you now wear, and something about it embedding into your skin has you sighing in relief. 

You both stand there for what feels like forever and also not long enough. His fingers gently caress the length of your spine. 

“Y/N?” he asks quietly. 

“Mm?” You force yourself to let go enough to look up at him. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“You’re asking?”

“I feel like we probably should have asked each other the first time it happened.”

“Yeah…you’re right.”

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s more patient than anything else. 

“So is that a yes?” he asks lightly, a tiny bit desperate and you laugh, looking back into his deep brown eyes. 

“Yes,” you say. 

Seokjin moves slowly, carefully, almost like every single move he makes is marked with thought and consideration. He lifts your chin with his index finger, rubbing his thumb across your upper lip tenderly. Then, lightly, his hand expands along the length of your cheek, guiding you closer to him. On instinct, you close your eyes. When you feel his lips touch yours, you’re unable to get over how silky and soft they feel. Has this man never experienced chapped lips once in his life? 

You think to tease him, to pull away and ask, but then he’s parting your lips with his, the taste of him enveloping you as his tongue moves into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten how good he tastes. 

You lean deeper into him, letting your exposed stomach collide with the fabric of his pants, your breasts resting along his ribs. Your hands wander along the expanse of his strong, broad back.

When you nip the bottom of his lip with your teeth, you hear him gasp a little bit. 

He pulls back, his eyes dark, lips a little red and swollen. 

“Don’t start something you’re not going to finish,” he warns.

You cock an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He chuckles softly and drops his hand from your cheek, stepping away. He not-so-subtly adjusts himself in his pants. The air feels cold between you, and like a magnet, you move to close the distance again, craving more of him. 

Seokjin raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he doesn’t dismiss you, instead leaning down as you cup your palm around his neck, and you begin to kiss him again, only this time you venture downward, leaving little pecks along his jawline. As you reach his neck, you test the waters again, sucking the skin between your lips. He moans. 

“Fuck, Y/N, what are you doing?” 

You know the question is rhetorical, but you decide to give him a response anyway, licking along his neck and swirling your tongue in his collarbone. 

God, you can’t believe any of this is real, that he’s real, but you refuse to let the disbelief ruin this moment for you. Instead, you allow your other arm to start shifting down his chest, resting playfully at the waistband of his pants. 

Suddenly, Seokjin rips your hands away from him, and before you can even question what’s wrong, you’re being scooped up and carried across your apartment before being tossed onto your bed. 

“What did I tell you?” he says, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Mmm, not sure.” This game is getting to be a little too fun. 

“Bad girl,” he mutters and you feel a thrilling rush of desire back to your center. You’ve been wet because of him for so long tonight, and still no relief. But with him here, what more can you really ask for?

You grin, going to move back toward him, to tease his chest this time when you find you’re landed flat on your back with your arms pinned above your head. 

He clicks his tongue. “Nuh uh. Only good girls get to touch.”

Heat, so much heat in your body. Seokjin is resting slightly over your hips. If you angle yourself just right, you might be able to relieve some of the pressure. You buck up, but to no avail. He already saw that move coming and has created distance between you two. 

“Ugh,” you cry in annoyance, but Seokjin laughs. 

“I promise it won’t be so bad, princess.We do need to take a step back anyway. I need to know more about how you’re feeling about this. What you want. And if you keep doing that I’m going to fuck you on this bed right now and will not be able to control myself.”

You gasp at the response, still squirming under him. After a moment of locking eyes with him in the silence, you can’t take much more. 

“Please,” you beg, but over what exactly? You aren’t sure. 

Seokjin knows, though. Somehow he knows exactly what you mean by this. 

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need.” Something in that sentence is so reassuring and you force yourself to relax a bit under his hold. 

He smirks. “Okay. But first, we need to talk.” 

You nod in agreement, and Seokjin releases your wrists, instead tracing his fingers down your arms, past your armpits and over the swell of your breasts. He hums thoughtfully, but continues his exploration down your sides and hips. 

“First of all, what do you want from this?” He gestures between the two of you. 

God, what if you are honest and it isn’t what he wants? You’re about to say whatever you want but as you study his face, you can see that Seokjin is also nervous. His hand is shaking slightly. You reach up and lace your fingers in his. 

“I don’t know what to call it, really. But I want to do this. To spend time with you away from all the everything that can be reality. I want to explore things together. To learn more about you. To build our own world that feels nice to walk around in. It always has felt kind of like we step into something just for us when we are alone. I like when you come over and sit on my couch and do nothing. I want more of that. And,” you guide his hand down unlacing it just as you place his hand over your breast. “I want you to touch me. Especially like this.” 

He keeps his hand still but does not remove it. 

“Can you…tell me what you want?” You feel somewhat embarrassed to ask, despite the fact that he just asked you the same thing. 

“Mmm,” he hums. He begins exploring the silkiness of the bra with his fingertips. You can feel the skimming of them over your nipples. It’s not enough to make them hard, but the promise of it makes you shiver, and that does. His fingers work along the band of the bra, a few of them snaking their way under it and touching the tender flesh on the side. Fuck, he’s torturing you. 

“I think I like the sound of our own little world,” he finally says. “It would be nice to feel a bit more…free.” As Seokjin finishes his sentence, you feel his fingers slink forward, brushing underneath the cup of your bra and lightly plucking at your left nipple. 

You inhale sharply, glancing up from where his fingers roam to his face, which hosts a sexy, lazy smirk. But his eyes are a different story, honed in on you like you’re some kind of prey he’s hunting. 

“Can I take off your bra, princess?” he asks. Fuck, there he goes again with that pet name. 

You nod, but Seokjin shakes his head, clicking his tongue. 

“We are going to need to work on you using your words, aren’t we?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, one without any bite because Seokjin still moves to the clasp on your back, unhooking your bra. Which maybe was a bad move, because you’re still in his shirt, and the straps are beginning to pull away from your shoulders without the weight of your boobs to fix them into place. 

But Seokjin doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looks even more aroused somehow, exhaling through his nose heavily when your breasts drop out from their cups with a little jiggle. You move to begin taking the rest of your clothes off, but he’s already beating you to it, gently slipping his (or now your) shirt away from your shoulders, his hand supporting each arm as he peels away your layers carefully, like he’s opening a Christmas present and wants to preserve the paper. 

It’s when he’s chucked your bra and shirt to the other end of the room that he finally looks at you: chest, stomach, and all. 

“Fuck,” he groans and he leans back, trying to shift his very obvious erection around in his slacks with no success. “So beautiful.” 

Your eyes are fixed on him as he pushes down on his cock with his palm. You know what it looks like, how big it is, but that’s just on a screen, where the size of everything can be hard to compare. 

“Seokjin,” you say breathlessly, and his eyes snap away from your breasts as you lean forward and place your hand on his thigh. 

His breath is just as erratic. God, both of you need to get it together. He looks at you, trying to read your expression with his own concern. 

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, and the wrinkle between his eyebrows softens. “But can I touch you? Please?” 

You’re whispering. Like what you’re doing is some secret. And maybe it is. You hope it’s not, but only time will tell. Seokjin reaches to the hand that you’ve rested on his thigh and moves it up to the heat of his hard length. 

“Touch me wherever you want, princess. I’m yours to play with.” 

Shit. “Shit.” 

His gaze is scorching. He wets his lips and watches you as you explore him, slipping your hands up his abs under his shirt, which he graciously removes when you complain that you’re more naked than him. You remove your hand from his clothed cock and watch him spin into equal desperation as you, a somewhat annoyed look taking over his face as if to ask you what you’re doing. 

You stun him then, tilting your head just so that you can lock his lips with yours. Enough talking. More feeling. Isn’t that what you two do all the time anyway? And if anything it pushes you two further away instead of guiding you closer. He’s yours to play with, and hopefully soon he realizes you’re his to play with too. 

You let your kisses become messy, weaving your tongue through his mouth before sucking on his neck again, feeling a light spank on your butt when you do. 

“Hey,” you say. “That hurt!” It didn’t. Not even a little bit. If anything it makes you squirm more, wanting to grind down onto him but you’re not in the right position for that. Next time, you promise. 

He laughs lightly. “Don’t test me. I’ll make it hurt.”

“So many empty threats. I recall you saying you were going to fuck me?” You readjust your position so your ass is in the air as you trail your tongue down Seokjin’s chest, teasing his nipples on the way down to his navel. 

“Watch your tone, Y/N.” He warns again. This time there’s a little venom behind it. 

“Mm, okay. Sorry. Maybe we need to establish a safe word.” You pop the zipper of his slacks and look up at him. 

He nods. “We’ll use the traffic light system. You know what that is?” 

You scoff. “Of course I do. I read.” 

“Oh, of course. Sorry for asking.”

“You’re forgiven,” you say, pulling the zipper down. He’s wearing black briefs, but you can see a tiny damp spot from where his erection pushes against the fabric. “Can I?”

“Yes, baby. Go ahead.” 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, you’re tugging downward, whining when the pants don’t budge from how he’s sitting. 

“Here,” he laughs, and lifts his hips so you can tug. As you do, his cock springs free, tapping your wrist as you pull. 

Fuck. Seokjin is huge. You know this. You’ve seen hundreds of photos now and watched numerous videos, but that didn’t prepare you for reality. His tip is that same angry red it is when he’s incredibly aroused, and it’s glistening a little with precum. Your mouth waters. How would he taste? Will he let you taste him?

“Shit, Y/N. Look what you do to me,” he says. 

You blink at him. God, that’s right. You did this to him. He’s this turned on because of you. 

“I didn’t even do anything. You just took my shirt and bra off,” you say. 

“And you think you haven’t gotten me rock hard while fully clothed? God, do you remember that day in the kitchen a few months ago when I had you practicing cutting carrots and you hit your head? Did you not feel anything when you brushed your perfect ass up against me?” 

With that, Seokjin slaps your ass with one hand, the smacking sound ringing out in the room. A slight sting forms under his hand and you can’t help it, you moan. 

“I thought…I thought maybe you were hard but I didn’t know why. I just…I don’t know…I buried it in my memory because I didn’t think it would be true.” 

Seokjin rubs where he slapped, the warm sting soothed by his soft palm. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fucked my fist to the memory of you bending over and showing me your tiny little panties. Oh, shit, and those pajama shorts you always wear that ride up your thigh. Fuck. I almost came in my pants that one night you wore those to bed.” 

“I…I didn’t know,” you say weakly. Seokjin sighs and taps your side, pushing you into a sitting position. Your hands still rest on his thighs, right around the base of his cock. 

“Listen, Y/N, I know that I haven’t been the most clear on my feelings from the start, but I’m trying to rectify that now and hear me out. I like you a lot. And I’ve liked you probably since we first met, honestly. I dream about your thighs resting around my face as you sit on it. How sweet your wet pussy must taste. Every time I see you I have to try to think of morbid things to stop myself from popping a boner in public because I’m picturing you naked and waiting for me in my office, my tie in your pretty little mouth to silence your moans as I fuck you on my desk. I want to fuck those overthinking, stressful moments out of you and then feeding you delicious food after as we sit on the couch watching Netflix. 

“You have absolutely no idea what it’s like for me to feel like a horny teenager again the second you walk into a room. But god, I want to show you some amazing, dirty things.” 

You squeeze your legs together, your clit throbbing for attention now that it’s been promised.

“Then do it. Fuck me. Show me amazing dirty things.” You take his hot length in your hands and give him one long stroke. 

“You are such a tease,” he scoffs, which turns into a hiss as you lean down and take him into your mouth. 

God, he’s big. The edges of your lips are struggling to stretch to take him into your mouth. With a flick of your tongue along the tip, though, you wet him enough to slide more fully in. You taste the light tang of precum on your tongue and it makes you salivate more, allowing you to bob up and down as you hollow your cheeks. 

When was the last time you did this? You don’t even remember honestly, it’s all lost in the fog of shitty date nights, of trying to force yourself to take more than you could to prove something to yourself or the guy you were with. 

You know better now; Seokjin is too big to take all of; unless some porn star with no uvula or teeth is sucking him down, there’s no way to shove him all in without it hurting either of you. So you do your best, popping the head of his cock out of your mouth and dribbling some of your saliva around the shaft, laving your tongue along it as you pump him with your wet fist. 

The slick sounds of your hand movements are accompanied by soft little groans as you try to repeat all the things you’ve seen him do before. 

“Fuckkk Y/N. Yes.” You squeeze him a little harder and lick lower, then lower still until you’re making a little figure-8 around his balls. When you pop one into his mouth, he jerks. 

“Shit, fuck, fuck. Hold on, if you keep going I’m going to cum.” 

You hum a little and then you feel your hair leave the nape of your neck and a sharp tug. You gasp and detach yourself, leaving you coming up for air with strings of your spit dripping down your chin. 

Seokjin holds your hair looser in his fist now, cocking an eyebrow at you. 

“Were you trying to make me cum in some insanely short record?” He asks. 

You can’t help but laugh. “No, why? Am I doing a good job?” 

He also laughs and then wipes your chin. “A little too good. My refractory period isn’t that short. And you are still wearing these.” 

Seokjin tugs at the waistband of your panties, and you suddenly feel shy. Why did you decide to wear your most worn out pair today of all days?

“Oh,” you respond, and just as you move to take them off and never speak of them again, he slaps your hand away.

“I didn’t tell you to take them off, did I?” 

“Uh, no, but–”

“Are you attached to them?” He asks and you shake your head. “Good.”

Within seconds, Seokjin rips through the worn out material, tearing it away albeit unevenly, which snaps the elastic to your thighs.

You hiss a little, the tender area of your inner thigh not enjoying the pinch. 

“Are you okay?” And just as easily as Seokjin exudes that sexy dominant self, he’s also light and considerate, something you haven’t witnessed in his streams. 

“Yeah, just got whipped by the elastic right here,” you say and rub at the invisible wound. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and pulls your thigh a little wider, bending down to take a closer look. You open your mouth to tell him you’re okay, but before you get the chance, he’s kissing it delicately, poking his tongue out to just graze your skin and dampen it before pursing his lips and blowing. 

Cold air taps your thighs, which admittedly, are already damp from how turned on you are, and as your skin prickles with goosebumps, you can tell Seokjin takes notice. He glances up at you, ever focused as his tongue begins to explore further inward, lapping at your inner thigh further toward the center. His arms reach out and quicker than you can react, your knees are resting over his shoulders, locking his head between them. He pulls back and winks before licking his plush lips and diving back down, and that’s when you feel him gently pulling your labia into his mouth as he suckles. You never knew that could feel so good. 

A whimper escapes you and that only seems to spur him on, as he detaches from them and laps upward, this time sharply sucking your clit. 

“Fuck,” you moan. You feel him chuckle, but he doesn’t remove himself, instead devouring you more intensely, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thigh as he pushes himself further into it. 

“Goddamn,” he says after a moment, and when he pops up, his eyes are burning, a wicked smile on his face. There’s a sheen of wetness along his cheeks, nose, and chin, and he continues to lick it away. “You’re so wet, princess. Is all of this for me?” 

That nickname again causes warmth to dip down through your core. How is it that he can even stay focused now? You’re so desperate for him your brain can hardly form words. 

“Yes,” you manage to choke out. 

“Mmm, well thank you. I’m eating well.” He kisses the top of your thigh. “I could do this all night.” He begins to dive down, but you throw your hand out, sinking your fingers into his hair. 

“No!”

“No?” He raises his eyebrows and tries to read your expression. 

“I need you,” you say. That’s an understatement. If such a word exists that is greater than need, that’s what you have for Seokjin right now. 

“But I wasn’t done with my meal,” he teases. He runs his fingers through your wet heat, rubbing at your clit. You buck at the direct stimulation, the pressure acting as a welcome relief. “This pussy tastes so good. I don’t know if I’m ready to give it up.”

With that, Seokjin sinks a finger in. God, his fingers are long, finding the rough patch inside of you and stroking at it. You clench around his finger. 

“Hmm, do you think my cock will fit into this tight little cunt?” He asks, and you feel a rush of heat head to your cheeks. The way he can just flip like a switch, to taunt you devilishly, to crack a few jokes and then be so dirty is not just impressive, but so incredibly hot. He begins to retreat his finger from you, which draws out a whine. It feels so good to be filled. 

“Answer my question,” he prods. Everything but the tip of his finger has pulled out. You reflexively clench again, trying to urge it back in. “Is my cock going to fit in here? Or do I need to fuck it open a little bit?” 

You want to answer, you do, but you can’t seem to form a legitimate response besides the first thought that comes to your head.

“Wanna cum,” you say stupidly. 

“Then what do you need to do?” 

“I need to answer your question,” you gasp as he pinches your clit with his other hand. 

“And what is your answer?” 

“I…I need you to fuck me open with your fingers.”

“Mmm, and why?”

“Because my pussy is too tight for your big coc–fuck!” 

Two fingers sink in, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. You can feel Seokjin curl his fingers toward him as he touches your g-spot. Closer, you’re getting closer. 

“Ugh,” you whine, and as if he can tell what’s bothering you, he latches his mouth back onto your clit, flicking it with his tongue. 

The pressure in your stomach dips, and now you’re clenching firmly around his fingers as they scissor you wider. The slick sounds of him fucking you only add to your arousal. Your hips try to help, but you learn quickly that you’re not helping, you’re edging yourself away from your orgasm. 

“Y/N,” Seokjin says.

“More,” you respond, not caring if he’s scolding you or even concerned. You need more. Now. “Please, more.” 

He replaces his lips with his other hand, rubbing and pinching your clit within his own rhythm.

“Good girl. You’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you. All for me. All mine.” He bends down and pulls a nipple into his mouth. And that’s when you cum, your hips bucking into his hand as he strikes your g-spot head on. 

You can feel your heels tingle as they try to get the blood back into them. Seokjin massages your thighs as he places your legs back down on the bed, helping ground you in the swimming intensity of whatever the fuck just happened. The tremors of the orgasm’s aftershock rock through you, though not for long, as sure enough, he’s lying down on the bed next to you, pulling you close to him as you come back down. You tilt your head to let his lips find yours.  

He tastes like you, and there’s something impossibly hot about that. 

When he pulls back, you can tell how flushed he is, and when you glance down, sure enough his cock is so red and possibly harder than it was before. 

You reach down to relieve some of the pressure but Seokjin shakes his head. 

“We don’t have to tonight,” he says. 

You blanch. “What?” 

“If you don’t want to. I’m glad you came. That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life. And I wanted to make you cum. But you’re under no obligation to go further.”

Is he fucking serious right now? “Did you not just see me choke on your dick? Shall I give you an encore?” Seokjin laughs and you shake your head. “Don’t be diplomatic about this. That looks painful. Fuck the shit out of me like you said you would.”

“I didn’t say I would fuck the shit out of you.” 

“Fine then I’m saying it. Seokjin, I have wanted you to fuck the shit out of me since you walked into my interview at the restaurant and asked me if I knew what the difference between scallions and chives are.” 

“You’d be surprised how many people don’t know the difference! I didn’t want an idiot on my staff to have to mentor.” 

“You’re missing the point.” You laugh, leaning in and nipping at his shoulder. “I have wanted you since day one. I am the definition of down bad. Every book I’ve read in almost a year has me picturing you as the love interest who absolutely destroys the pussy of the main character. You’ve been haunting me for months. Now please make good on my fantasy.”

“Wait wait. What’s the best fantasy?” 

“I don’t know!” You say. But he knows you’re lying. 

“Tell me,” he urges. 

“No,” you say. “I don’t know!”

“Is it one where I’m some giant alien with a huge blue cock that only has the urge to breed you?” 

Head floods your face. “What? No! First of all, how do you even know about that book?”

“I’m chronically online,” he deadpans. Ah, you realize. Of course it’s come up in his other profession. “Enlighten me then. What is the fantasy?”

He laces his fingers with yours and pulls your fist to his mouth. Then he begins his strategy anew, giving soft, tender kisses along your inner arm as he makes his way up, pausing to kiss your shoulder and clavicle before delivering a scorching kiss on your lips. You feel yourself melting into him, eagerly trying to get more and more of him. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” he whispers in your ear before lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I would never make fun of you for having a fantasy about something, especially if I’m involved.” 

You sigh, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You hide your face in his broad shoulder. “It’s…it has to do with the pet name you started calling me recently.”

“Ah…princess?” A shiver runs down your spine. “Do you like it when I call you that?” 

“Yes,” you mutter. A hum rumbles through Seokjin’s chest. He shifts, sitting up on the bed. And then you feel him use that insane strength to pull you up with him, fixing you to sit in his lap. His cock is right against your pussy and you have to fight the urge to grind against him. 

“What do you like about it?” He asks and you pause, trying to not show all of your cards. He’s your friend, and possibly is becoming something more. But you’re not sure what you want to tell Seokjin about your past. 

You choose your words carefully. “I like the idea of being precious to you. To be seen as important enough to be royalty. Powerful enough.” You pull back and look at him. “And I like the idea that I have power…you never have used that over me. Except maybe once but you were so responsive to my feedback when we talked back in February about me streaming and school. Like, no I didn’t want you telling me what to do. But I liked that you respected me enough to back off and let me figure things out. That means a lot to me. You always let me figure things out.”

“Well, yeah. Because it’s your life. You have a right to choose for yourself. No one gets to decide what choices you’ll make on your behalf. And making choices doesn’t make you a bad person or a good person. You just are, Y/N.” 

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you for saying that. It hasn’t always felt that way.” 

Seokjin curls his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. “In terms of power, this is how things are supposed to be. You shouldn’t feel powerless around me. Especially not here. Just because I’m assuming a role that’s more dominant doesn’t mean you’re not in complete control. Just because in some places in my life I’m ‘in charge’ doesn’t mean that I decide what goes on here. You’re in complete control of what you want and how you want it.” 

You bury your face into his chest. If you could hold onto a moment forever, this would be it. After a few moments of silence, you hug Seokjin close to you, and then pull back, looking up at him. His eyes are so warm and tender as he gazes back down at you and you feel a tug in your chest. This, this is what safety feels like.  

He begins rubbing your back and you stifle a nod, but he catches it. “Do you want to go to bed?” 

You roll your eyes before rutting against him. He grunts. “I want to tell you about my fantasy,” you decide and he laughs. 

“Okay, princess. Go for it.” 

“Okay so we’re in the throne room. And I’m sitting on the throne. You’re my loyal knight. You’ll do anything to please me.” 

“Mmm, doesn’t sound too far off from the truth.” You pinch his side. “Yah! Stop it.” 

“Don’t interrupt me. So you’ll do anything for me. Slay beasts, accompany me on my journeys, defend me to the court. You’re my friend and my backup for when shit hits the fan. Anyway, after a long fought battle where you know, you pine after me for a while, you snap. And you decide you need me and you need me now.” 

You begin to rock against his length, and Seokjin grins, starting to follow your movements. “Tell me more,” he says, his cock sliding between your wet lips. 

“So after this long, arduous journey, you decide you need to claim me. Maybe it’s jealousy that I’m being promised to some king in a far away kingdom or something. But after meeting with me in the throne room, you get down on your knees and force my legs apart. 

“‘Princess’, you say to me, ‘I’ve learned in this world that time is not promised, and because time isn’t promised, I need you to know now how I truly feel. I am on my knees, letting you know I need you. Please, let me worship you,’ and being the diplomatic princess I am, I open my legs for you and you begin eating me out like your life depends on it. And then, ah…it gets kind of kinky,” you say, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“Hmm. Are you curious about kink? Or have you been part of kink communities?” Seokjin asks thoughtfully. 

“Definitely curious. Not really experienced,” you offer. 

“Noted. Continue.” 

“So, you decide to crawl under my skirt, eating me out like your life depends on it, but then my chambermaid or someone comes in and says I have a meeting soon I need to prepare for. 

“But I’ve kept you under my gown, really well hidden because it’s so annoyingly big, and all the while you’re still teasing me. Trying to test and see if I’d cum with others around.”

“And do you?”

“Sometimes in the fantasy I do, yeah. And usually by that point, I get discovered and you keep going, so unbothered by people watching. Or sometimes we don’t get caught, and the second the others leave I’m riding you naked on my throne wearing only my crown.” You are panting now, your slick body fully stimulating Seokjin’s cock, which is leaking precum again. 

“Mmm, I like that. A little exhibition kink in there. So desperate to be fucked you don’t care who sees. That’s pretty hot.” 

“Uh huh. So, so desperate.” 

“Is your pussy that needy in your fantasy? Or is that how it is now?”

“Fuck, Seokjin.” 

“Yes princess?”

“Please.”

He leans down, claiming your lips as you two continue to rub your bodies against each other, sliding skin against skin with delicious friction. When his cock slides at a particular angle, you feel it rub straight over your clit in a way that has you moaning. 

Seokjin rips away his lips from yours, instead latching onto your neck for a deep suck that you know is going to leave a mark. But you don’t care. God not even a little bit.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? My girl is so needy for my cock, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Please, more,” you respond, shifting your hips to try and get him closer to where you need him. 

“Not even patient at all, are you?” You know this is him playing it up, because the way he’s breathing suggests he, too, isn’t very patient. He slides a little more, grinding his hips into you. 

“I need you. I need it,” you whine, and Seokjin slows his grinding for a moment, a thought clearly crossing his mind. 

“Oh, shit. I don’t have any condoms,” he says weakly. You grind down again, a bit harder this time. 

“I’m on birth control.” Your next appointment for your birth control shot is in a month. You should be fine. 

“I’m clean,” he offers, hands going to your ass and shoving you further into him, the weight of his large hands on your hips making you dizzy. 

“I would hope so. I put your cock in my mouth earlier. We probably should have established that sooner,” you copy his previous movement and suck on the hollow of his collar bone, hoping you’re marking him as he marked you.

A strained laugh leaves his chest. “You’re right. And you’re clean too?”

“Yes, sorry.” You stop gyrating. You know you need to be more serious about this. “I’m clean. And…I also haven’t had sex in a long time so I’m sorry if I’m not good at this.”

He sighs. “Pause.”

Oh shit, you think. Does that turn him off? What if he doesn’t want to have sex with someone who has been so obviously horny and lonely for a while? It’s not like you’re a sex god like he is. You can barely even say what you want and where you want it. Maybe he doesn’t want to have sex with someone who needs this much direction. After all, what fun is it when you have to instruct your partner how to make you come because they have no instincts? 

You are about to break down, to call it all off, and then you look at Seokjin again, feel how hard he is under you, see the perspiration dotting his hairline. He said only a few minutes ago that you almost made him cum with your blowjob skills. He admitted he likes you. 

You know he wants you, regardless of how many times you’ve had sex in comparison to him. There’s proof right in front of you that this man wants you. You take a deep breath. “Sorry. I…I don’t know why I’m apologizing actually.” You force a nervous laugh. 

His eyebrows twist closer together. “You don’t…need to apologize for your sex experience. It’s not being graded.” 

“I know, I know. And I also know that sex is different for every single pair of people. It’s less about being good and more about listening to your partner and figuring it out together. If you were treating me sexually the same way as you treated other people you’ve had sex with, it would probably be…maybe not as good? Because we might not like the same things.

“But I guess I just…I’m a little insecure; that’s all.”

“Okay. That’s ok. I feel a bit insecure too. This is all really vulnerable and I’m terrified I’m not going to know what you want or pay enough attention to check in.” 

“Why?” You ask. You’re surprised to hear Seokjin is insecure about anything. 

“Because I want you so much, Y/N. I have never felt such intense, deep desire like this and I’m afraid that once I get a taste of you I’ll just want more and I’ll start bending the rules for my own sick pleasure.” 

“Has….has that ever happened before? Where you crossed boundaries?”

“Never. And that’s why it’s so terrifying. I’ve never felt so out of control before. You look at me a certain way and I get so hard I swear my dick will fall off. I’ve always been so collected but with you I feel scrambled and like if I’m not careful I’ll, I’ll–”

“You’ll fuck the shit out of me?” You tease and you see Seokjin’s concern wash away as you giggle. “Isn’t that what I told you to do anyway?”

He grins. “Yeah, you did.” 

“Well then let’s remember what you said before. Traffic light system when it’s needed. Or, for now, maybe we can just trust that if we are uncomfortable we’ll say something? Since this is so new…Stop means stop for now. A color if we feel like we aren’t being taken seriously. Just to be sure.”

Seokjin nods, then tenderly kisses your forehead. “Okay, I like that.”

“Good, because I am so wet and if you don’t fuck me soon I might explode.” 

You both laugh at that, but your laughter is turned into a tight moan when you feel Seokjin’s hand slip from around your back and down to your clit. You hum in delight. 

“Feel good baby?” 

“Yes,” you say, clenching as he rolls his thumb around your nub. 

“You’re so wet. Shit.” His hand moves to his cock, jerking it in his fist a few times before gently tapping your thigh so you push up a bit away from his lap. He adjusts the angle, brushing his cockhead against you to gather some of your arousal. And then, he’s inside.  

Holy shit. You can feel him stretching you, testing your limits, your body spasming around the girth of him as he nestles deep in you, making you feel exceptionally full. 

“Oh god,” you moan, grinding down to the hilt. 

“Oh, fuck, Y/N. You’re so fucking tight.” 

Both of you take an exasperated breath and you can’t help but giggle at your dual reaction. “Damn, where have you been hiding that thing?” You joke and Seokjin hisses. 

“Ah, ah, careful. When you laugh you squeeze around me and you feel so good. But to answer your question, either you’ve been oblivious every time I’ve popped a boner around you or you know damn well where I’ve been keeping it.” 

He tests the waters, rolling his hips a little. A gasp escapes from you. Seokjin grins at you devilishly and you cock an eyebrow before clenching down in retaliation. His eyes widen. “Y/N,” he warns.

You bat your eyelashes innocently. “Sorry, but you did this,” you say, echoing his earlier sentiment back to him. “You made me this way for you.” You shove your hips back, causing him to grunt. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll last, it’s been a while.” 

“I don’t care. It’s fine. Cum whenever you want. Just, god, don’t stop.” 

A dark look casts across his face. “Alright. Just remember this is what you asked for.” 

Seokjin pulls out. What? How is this supposed to be what you asked for? You make a pathetic noise at the loss, pouting at him as he lays you down softly onto your sheets. 

He clicks his tongue at you. “So needy.” Maybe he’s trying to sound condescending, but he’s also smiling. He leans forward to push some of your hair out of your face, his palm resting on your cheek. “So beautiful.”

Something in your chest clenches, and you take a deep breath to try and break apart the feeling. But it’s still there, so deep in your chest you don’t think anything is going to make it go away. And you’re also not sure you want it to. 

You lean into his palm, pecking it with your lips before glancing up at him. He swallows hard. Seconds pass as Seokjin follows the lines of your body with his eyes, as if he’s trying to memorize you. As if you might just slip away. He breathes unevenly, and you see his eyes glistening in the dim light of your room. 

“Hey,” you say hoarsely, reaching a hand over to his thigh and poking it. “Come back to me.” 

He blinks a few times and takes another breath, this time a steadier one. “Sorry, I was getting lost in my thoughts.”

“Are you okay?” You ask. “Do you want to stop?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “No, no I’m fine. I was just thinking about how long I wanted this. And maybe longer than I even realized. But I’m okay.”

You get it; for some reason the energy between the two of you is so intense, charged with waves of emotion you didn’t even know you can feel. “Okay,” you say, and you reach out your hand for him to lace with this. “How do you want me?”

This seems to refocus things. Right now you’re lying flat on your back, your legs slightly open, and you know that’s not how Seokjin planned to position you. He grins and takes your hand, leading it to the back of your thigh that he lifts. You follow his lead, spreading your legs so that you’re grasping behind both your knees, incredibly open and vulnerable for him once more. 

He reaches behind you and puts a pillow under your neck before grabbing the other. With a simple lift of your hips, he scootches the pillow under your hips, creating an angle for your back to rest more comfortably and clearly, allowing him to reach deeper. 

From this angle, you can also see better as he strokes his cock a few times before positioning himself between your legs. 

“If for some reason this hurts at any point, tell me and we’ll find something more comfortable for you, okay?” You hum in agreement, staring down at his length, clenching as you ache to feel it filling you once again. 

He snorts. “Verbal agreement please, Y/N. Remember our rules.” 

“Yes,” you say eagerly and without any more conversation, he takes himself in his hand and fucks into you. 

“Jin,” you breathe. Did he get bigger? You know that there’s no way that can be true, that it’s probably due to how you’re angled for him to reach deeper, but each stroke is deliciously dizzying. 

Seokjin responds with a concentrated grunt and then he pulls out completely. 

“No! No please,” you beg and feel him sheath himself back into you, harder. 

“God, such a pretty little pussy you have, don’t you?” He rocks his hips back, kissing against your cervix, which elicits a deep moan as he begins to thrust harder, the slap of his balls against your wetness sounding so incredibly filthy. “Taking me so well, princess.” 

Seokjin groans but doesn’t relent, instead leaning more of his weight onto you, forcing your legs to tuck in closer to your chest. At this angle, he rubs directly against your g-spot, sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh my god, there! Please!” Thank god he listens, snapping his hips with short, hard thrusts. You’re so close. 

“You gonna cum for me?” He pants, sweat now thoroughly beading down his temples and blooming on your chest. You nod. Words aren’t forming in your head. 

“Poor baby, did I fuck you stupid? Cum for me princess. Cum on this cock.” You don’t need much more convincing, and you feel yourself shake as you orgasm, clamping down on him. Your hands go loose on your thighs, fingers tingling so much that they can no longer hold on. 

“Good girl. That’s it baby, just let go, I’ve got you.” He intercepts your legs before they close, pushing himself forward and angling you back as he continues to thrust. Maybe it’s the feeling , or his sweet affirmation, but your vision blurs and you feel yourself blink away a few stray tears that leak from the corners of your eyes and down your cheeks. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Seokjin says, teeth gritted as he thrusts again. And again. And again. You feel your muscles tighten as you brace yourself for another orgasm, and find enough strength to reach down to your clit and rub it. The sudden pleasure spikes once more and you’re falling again, this time your body quaking roughly as Seokjin finally cums, his cock twitching as a pleasurable warmth spills into you. 

You study his face, fascinated how you’ve seen it before, yet it feels so different to witness it in person. The tendons in his neck protrude, and you feel the energy of the room sink into blissful exhaustion as he rolls the both of you onto your sides while still connected. 

He sighs and then closes his eyes, his dick twitching a little here and there, but overall beginning to go soft inside you. You feel the flood of cum beginning to leak around it, but you don’t care right now, no. 

Right now you are studying Seokjin and perhaps doing what he was doing to you before: memorizing everything about him in case it’s the only time you’ll see him this way. Any minute, he could decide this is a huge mistake, and he’ll flee out the door apologizing. But for the moment, you are studying the moles and freckles that dot along his neck and back, counting them so you can commit the number to memory.  

“What are you staring at me for?” He asks, though his eyes remain closed. 

“I’m just thinking,” you say. 

His eyes flit open. “You don’t regret it, do you?” 

“Not at all, I just…I’m thinking about where we go from here. I don’t want this to be the only time.” You shake your head and smile shyly. Everything feels so tender right now. But you know honesty is needed more than anything. 

Seokjin shifts, and you hiss a little as you feel him slip out of you, wetness dribbling onto your sheets. You’ll definitely have to wash these tomorrow. 

“It doesn’t have to be a one time thing if you don’t want it to be. Like I said before; I like you, I want to date you.” 

“We kind of skipped the first date and had sex instead though,” you chuckle and Seokjin rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, well, we aren’t really playing things by the book right now anyway. This can be our first date.”

“It’s not though! We didn’t go on a date, we just talked and had sex.”

“Yah! It was not just sex. It was great sex! I think that counts for something. Do dates require any more?” 

“Usually eating something, leaving the house. Two things we’ve failed to do.”

Seokjin suddenly rolls away, standing and searching for his clothes, gathering them in his hands. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, shifting yourself up in the bed. 

“Get dressed,” Seokjin says, pulling his slacks up his waist. “We are going out to eat.” 

“It’s 4am! Isn’t everything closed?” 

“Not the convenience store. We are going to solidify this as a date by having post-sex 4am ramyeon and kimbap and maybe some dessert. And then I will walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight and you’ll invite me in to hang out. Then we’ll have sex again until you kick me out and decide the first date is over.” 

He reaches into the pile of laundry in the corner, grabbing your bra and tosses it to you. As you begin to pull it over your body, you notice Seokjin has frozen over another pile of your strewn laundry. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, latching the hooks into place. 

He shifts a little, pulling whatever he was looking at from the pile. Embarrassment floods through your stomach as you realize what he’s holding. 

“Do you normally toss your vibrators into your laundry or is today my lucky day?” 

He holds the purple clitoral vibrator in front of you and you hide your face behind your hands. “Ahh no! This is so embarrassing!” 

Seokjin laughs and walks over, pulling your hands from your face. “What about this is embarrassing? First, you stream raunchy pornographic games sometimes to thousands of strangers. And second, I just spent a good chunk of this last blissful hour with my mouth serving as your personal sex toy.” 

“I know, it’s just that. This is different somehow. Like now you know!”

“Know what? That you masturbate? Well, yeah I kind of figured you did. Do you think I don’t?”

“I know you do.” 

“How?”

Shit. You can’t tell him you’ve seen him do it on his channel. “Um, well, you said so earlier you do.” Seokjin chuckles and then begins rifling through your dresser across from your bed, grabbing you a fresh pair of panties since he destroyed the last pair you were wearing. 

“Touché. But anyway, it’s good that you masturbate. It’s healthy. And also, it’s none of my business if you do or don’t. Unless you want to show me sometime, which I would beg to see, whatever you choose to do when I’m not around is your business.” 

He gathers together a large, baggy t-shirt and some joggers from your closet. “One sec,” he says, telling you to pause as you begin to maneuver into your panties, the stickiness of your combined arousal beginning to dry between your legs in an uncomfortable way. 

He returns a few seconds later with a damp washcloth and instructs you to lie back, opening your legs slightly to wipe away the mess.

“You don’t have to do this,” you insist but Seokjin continues anyway. 

“I know, I want to. I want to make sure you receive proper aftercare.” When he finishes, he kisses your kneecap. “Okay, let’s go.”

You groan, fully content to just lie in bed, but your stomach says otherwise. It ekes out a deep gurgle and Seokjin smiles smugly. 

“Ugh, fine. I’ll use the bathroom and get dressed. But just know if they don’t have the ramyeon I like there, I’m making you drive around town until we find it.” You flop out of bed with your pile of fresh laundry and head out of the bedroom toward the bathroom. 

“Sounds great,” he calls behind you. “Sounds like the perfect first date.”

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[feminist-space]

"EviCore markets itself to insurance companies by promising a 3-to-1 return on investment — that is, for every $1 spent on EviCore, the insurer would pay out $3 less on medical care and other costs. EviCore salespeople have boasted of a 15% increase in denials, according to the investigation, which is based on internal documents, corporate data and dozens of interviews with former employees, doctors, industry experts, health care regulators and insurance executives. Almost everybody interviewed spoke on condition of anonymity because they continue to work in the industry.

An analysis of the company’s own data shows that, since 2021, EviCore turned down prior authorization requests, in full or in part, almost 20% of the time in Arkansas, which requires the publication of denial rates. By comparison, the equivalent figure for federal Medicare Advantage plans was about 7% in 2022.

...

EviCore is not alone in engaging in the denials-for-dollars business. The second-biggest player is Carelon Medical Benefits Management, a subsidiary of Elevance Health, the health insurer formerly known as Anthem. It has been accused in court of wrongfully denying legitimate requests for coverage. The company has denied all charges. Several smaller companies do the same kind of work.

...

Insurers do not make explicit demands for more denials, a former EviCore sales executive said, Instead, they asked about “controlling the spend” — the amount of money paid out on certain procedures, he said. Nor would EviCore always use the word “denials” — they employed circumlocutions like “inappropriate determinations.”

Aetna and Cigna are two of the companies that have requested “high touch” plans — those that would send more cases to clinical review and thus generate more denials, according to the former employee involved in data issues.

...

Holding the companies legally responsible for their decisions is also difficult. In 2022, Carelon settled a lawsuit for $13 million that alleged the company, then called AIM, had used a variety of techniques to avoid approving coverage requests. Among them: The company set its fax machines to receive only 5 to 10 pages. When doctors faxed prior authorization requests longer than the limit, company representatives would deny them for failing to have enough documentation. Carelon denied the allegations in court and admitted no fault. A spokesperson declined to comment on the lawsuit."

Read the full article here: https://www.propublica.org/article/evicore-health-insurance-denials-cigna-unitedhealthcare-aetna-prior-authorizations

[naamahdarling]

GP's Office: We need your permission to get your records from Urgent Care.

Me: calls the UC, sets up a verbal release.

Me, to GP: I have set up a verbal release. I don't have a car or printer or fax machine. UC said this was enough for them.

GP: What we need from you is a request for information. Here is the form. We have scanned it badly.

Me to GP, internally screaming because I have no way to sign the fucking thing: Can I give this to UC myself? They are open later and I will have the car.

GP: That's fine!

UC: ...Why are they asking for this? We're the ones releasing the information, you set that up, we can do it. We have been waiting for a request for information from THEM.

Me, to GP: Anyway. I had them fax this, watched them do it, had them send me a confirmation that they did it, I have the original, and have attached an image of it to this message as well. They said they need a request for information. I don't know how that differs, so I'm assuming it's the same form. They are ready to send you whatever you need.

...

I have no idea what they are doing. I don't know which place is screwing up or who I should believe or trust. I truly didn't expect this part to go badly. I should have known it would.

Another day lost. Another day this infection can just do its thing.

I'm so so so tired. I'm ready to scream.

Literally nothing has gone right this entire time. Why start now.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20A: I Don't Need Nothing When I'm By Your Side

So hold me close, better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

-- “Born To Be My Baby,” Bon Jovi (1988) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || February 1989

Jamie frowned, looking back and forth between the shelf he’d just put together and the three unpacked boxes of books (two marked CLAIRE, one marked JAMIE).

Would she like them organized alphabetically by author? Genre? Size?

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Or perhaps she wanted medical books in her workroom? And maybe he could put his music books on the cabinet in his studio –

“There you are.”

He hadn’t heard Claire pad into the room – at some point they would need to get throw rugs to protect the gorgeous old hardwood floors – and smiled as she effortlessly stepped into his embrace.

They held each other for a long moment – his lips against her hair, her face buried in the safety of his neck.

Almost three months since the acoustic tour had ended, the night before Claire’s birthday. About six weeks since they had closed on their dream house, nestled against a mountain in the forests of North Carolina, not too far from The Ridge. And about two weeks since the items in storage – from her packed-up apartment in Boston, and his packed-up house in Los Angeles – had arrived.

The property had everything they needed. Privacy and solitude, of course. An old barn that they were using as a garage for Jamie’s motorcycle and cars. The house – an old cabin, really, dating from the 1800s and which had been lovingly expanded over the years – was perfect. A spacious living room, complete with the original stone fireplace. An eat-in kitchen, with newly replaced appliances. Two small rooms off the back that were now his music studio and her workroom – spaces to pursue their interests. A modestly-sized master bedroom. And a small extra bedroom – which for now was for guests, though God willing would be a nursery very soon.

Claire had insisted on doing two things quickly, before spending their time unpacking all the boxes.

The first was to hang his six gold and two platinum records in his studio – and he agreed, after he had hung her framed medical school diploma on the wall of her workroom.

The second was to install the fax machine on the bare floor of the studio – which, together with the phone, was their only link to the outside world.

For as much as they isolated themselves in this beautiful, peaceful place – the world pushed along without them.

In March, they would leave for L.A. and three weeks of rehearsals with the band. Maybe play a few small gigs in clubs on the Sunset Strip – Jamie had always wanted to do that. And in April, they’d fly to Europe, and kick off the tour that had swelled to 120 dates and stretched into 1990.

Colum was busier than ever – finalizing logistics, negotiating with local promoters, running interference with the suits from the label, upgrading the concerts from arenas to soccer stadiums. He had a conference call with the band every Tuesday – with Ian calling in from Lallybroch in upstate New York, and Angus from various resort spots in Mexico and the Caribbean (“I can’t believe Charlotte and Molly haven’t worn him out yet,” Jamie had mused to Claire one day. She had only shrugged and said, “they take care of each other”). Colum would always have a punchlist of decisions for the band – OK to book studio time during the week off in Scandinavia in July? The roadies couldn’t figure out the pyro setup without the band, OK to wait until rehearsals? They would need to film at least three music videos, which one could be a live performance? – and follow up with decisions in a fax sent later that day.

Jamie had been clear with Colum that he had three conditions for the tour: that Claire would be with him, that Raymond would be traveling with the band, and that the same no alcohol/drugs/groupies rule from the acoustic tour would carry through to this tour. Of course Colum had agreed. Just as he’d agreed to make provisions for Jenny to periodically fly out to visit Ian, and for Angus to always have a suite with two bathrooms to keep his girlfriends happy.

Claire and Jamie knew that this tour would be difficult, for so many different reasons. But they would be better prepared this time, to draw strength from each other, and to have Raymond for support. And maybe, just maybe they would return home from Europe with the best souvenir of all…

“Another fax from Colum,” Claire murmured after a long while.

Jamie snorted against her hair. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.”

“I do admire how hard he’s working for you and for the band. And how much he’s keeping all of you in the loop on the decisions he’s making. He doesn’t want any surprises.”

“I’d imagine not. The amount of bullshit he has to be putting up with right now must be insane. I just hope he doesn’t crack.”

“He never said if he’s bringing Tricia on the tour.” Tricia – Colum’s wife of more than ten years. She stood a head taller than her husband, still impossibly beautiful in her late thirties, smiling for every frown on her husband’s face. Claire had only met her once – couldn’t say she really knew her – but she knew enough about her.

How she had first met Colum at a party in 1970, when he was a roadie for Led Zeppelin and she was part of a gaggle of groupies that held court at the Riot House in L.A.

How, when she and her girlfriends joined the Led Zep tour the following summer, he had punched out the lighting guy at the Cow Palace in San Francisco when he heard the guy didn’t understand what Tricia meant by saying “no”.

How Geordie Ash – the reporter who had put Jamie (and, in a way, Claire) on the map last year with that Rolling Stone article – had sent flowers to her hotel room every day for a month during Led Zeppelin’s 1973 U.S. tour. Not knowing, of course, that she was allergic to lilies – or how Colum, who knew more about her by that point than he cared to admit, had wordlessly disposed of them for her, every day that month.

“I don’t think she likes to tour.” Jamie’s thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of Claire’s back. “Too many bad memories.”

If you asked any rock journalist or musician who had found Alex MacGregor – assistant to Led Zeppelin manager Peter Grant – dead in his Seattle hotel room in the spring of 1975, they would all say quite confidently that it had been Colum Laird, who by that point had advanced to lead Zeppelin’s touring crew.

But a handful of people – Peter Grant, and Colum, and Jamie, and now Claire – knew the truth.

Tricia woke up, Alex cold beside her in bed, a needle in his arm. The only thing she knew to do was slip quietly down the hall, tumbling into Colum’s room…and finally, his arms. Where she had remained ever since.

“I couldn’t imagine being away from you for so long.” Claire sighed. “I don’t know how they make it work.”

Jamie shrugged. “They love each other very deeply. They fixed the broken pieces in each other. And now she has the two boys to keep her busy.” He kissed her forehead. “Something for us to aspire to, perhaps. What’s in the fax?”

She held it out for him to read. Sharing a smile at Colum’s scrawl.

J+C: I’m not calling because I interrupted enough moments between you on tour and I’ll probably do it again this year. I don’t have Raymond’s info pls have him get in touch so we have a copy of his credentials and the travel agent can make all arrangements for Europe. I got the label to foot the bill for his travel meals and hotels, convinced them it’s a business expense, you’re welcome. Stay out of trouble. Colum.

“We’ll have him give Colum a call after he arrives this afternoon,” Jamie mused, folding the fax and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Claire nodded. “The guest room is all ready. And I’m glad Dougal and Gillian and William will be here tomorrow – I’m so happy they’re so close by.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, and released her. “As am I. Now, I have a question for you about these books…”