#fox fails writing

[foxeroni]

VOTE FOR JOEL

Reasons:

1. He is an absolute loser and a pathetic meow meow

In season 2 he is so insecure that he goes out of his way to make lore in order to make it cannon that he is tall and sexy. His own wife refuses to be his lawyer because she knows he will lose.

Going off the last sentence, in last life, whenever joel interacts with lizzie she always talks about how incompetent he is before and afterwards. In the one scene where she flirts with him, he has the most awkward and uncool respince possible. She votes for him to die first and profits off it. He dies 4 times in the second episode and looses all his friends (only had one to begin with).

In afterlife when Joel has objectively the best origin in the game, he needs an umbrella to walk in the rain. He dies in his second origin because he accidently walks off a cliff. When he has the supposedly "cool" origin (iceling) he falls into a cauldron by accident.

(Have not wached x life yet)

2. Joel is also a total whore

He sleeps with sausage in like the third episode of empires s2. He and his worst-enemy-turned-friend Jimmy fuck barely 2 episodes after they become friends. His wife is a ten foot tall axolotl hybrid who could absolutely step on him and he would let her.

In the first few episodes of double life he takes as little damage as possible and tries to stay out of trouble on green and yellow despite his soulmate going to the deep dark and spawning the warden, all while building a lovely and flammable home.

Joel also flirts with Jimmy in empires s1 and somehow asking Jimmy to be his best man is more romantic than a marriage proposal to his own wife?? He has bi wife energy.

3. He is absolutely unhinged and chaotic

In third life, he tames a wolf army and sicks them on absolutly everyone. It is also believed that one of the life series 'curses' is that the player that tames the most wolves is the most unhinged.

When he goes red life in LL, he tries to get kills on absolutly everyone possible, he also has no hesition when lying to his teammate when he is the boogeyman. He goes on a killing spree with grian at the end, it's even said by Scott that dying of "natural causes" included dying at joel and grians hands.

During double life, as soon as the ship burns he immediately starts burning everything and goes on another killing spree. Also, the first thing he does after dying a second time is killing someone with zero hesitation.

He starts a whole religion and goes on a whole villan arc because of a fucking donkey. A fucking donkey.

Now this is not physically, emotionally, or even that visibly unhinged, but. Let's rember that this is the guy who spent like over twenty hours worth of building in Jimmy's empire for the purpose of 'it would be funny'. It is literally insane. On that topic, all his bases are also absolutly insane, one could say, unhinged.

4. Do it for...

Vote joel, for he derves to win the mcyt sexyman bracket. And if this has convinced you that he is too pathetic to vote for, then do it for his son hermes. Hermes is too precious for this world and his other dad sadly got out of the competition yesterday. Do it for the smol armor stand demigod lore child. Or do it for donkey Jeremy, idk.

Shoutout to @infamousvamp , who inspired this post, I tried to add more stuff and make difference points, but you should check out https://at.tumblr.com/infamousvamp/vote-joel-smallishbeans-for-mcytblr-sexyman-2023/ngx5hduweccw , the original. In the end though, it really dosnt matter, as we all would like joel smallishbeans to with this competition, or at least this round. Hopefully this has either influenced your vote or reminded you how pathetic joel is. Vote here at https://at.tumblr.com/mcytblrsexymen/round-four/kprd9e10zjmp

[shopkeeps]

maxing out stats

[5h0w1sh]

SOUL EATER x SONIC THE HEDGEHOG

[myymi]

i wanna write smthn with knuckles and tails so badly but for the life of me i cant think of anything to actually write

[hedgehog-moss]

I lost one of my chickens :( she was caught and carried away by a fox... I’ve been growing complacent about my chickens’ safety I think because we’ve only had one other attack before, a goshawk that swooped in abruptly (unsuccessfully), but no fox sightings nearby so I’ve been assuming Pandolf was a great deterrent. Which he is, just not foolproof. I’ve talked to some people in town about this and they were pretty philosophical about foxes stealing chickens, like “it’s the tribute we pay to woodland animals, it’s just a few hens here and there.” I don’t begrudge the fox for being a fox, if anything I have a renewed respect for foxes because everyone I talked to proceeded to give me their best / worst fox stories, and most of them involved foxes outsmarting humans (learning people’s habits / timetables, opening latches, faking a limp...) Still I feel terrible for my hen, she was only three. RIP Cordy :( You’ll be remembered fondly... (except by the cats.) I feel bad for the other hen too, who just lost her pal!

When I said that last thing, one of my neighbours jumped on the opportunity to try and convince me again to accept a rooster from him. He had a rooster baby boom last summer and I’ve been telling him for months that I don’t need a rooster, I don’t want to raise chickens I just want eggs, and his new argument was that a rooster would protect my hen (or if it comes to that, would heroically sacrifice himself rather than let the hen be eaten—I’m sceptical...) I asked around for a young hen but there aren’t any to be had in this season, so my remaining one is going to be alone until the spring, and my neighbour said she’d get stressed and male company is better than no company. (I wish I could ask my hen what she wants! Maybe she’s penning A Coop Of One’s Own as we speak.) I said the rooster was more likely to stress her out and harass her and he said nah they’re free ranging all day, it’ll be fine, and he’s young so your adult hen will boss him around. I was like, but then will he be any good at protecting her? etc. etc. and after a while I caved in.

When I told her about this on the phone my mum sighed “you’re terrible at saying no”—excuse me, I said no so many times and the guy just kept ploughing on until he could foist a rooster upon me. I’m good at saying no, other people are terrible at hearing it! I reassured her that I had only agreed to take the rooster for a short probationary period, and if he bothers my hen too much I’ll drive him back to his native farm. My mum was like “Drive him back? look I’m sorry I raised you as a city kid but there’s no need to waste gas on driving a rooster around, I’ll have no qualms about wringing his neck for dinner if he’s more trouble than he’s worth.” The rooster’s fate is not sealed though, if he is anywhere from vaguely useful to not actively problematic I’ll keep him, so we’ll see...!

[m3tr0n0m333]

“This isn’t you, Nine”

More like This isn’t Tails. The ‘perfect’ little buddy of yours. The fox you can’t help but imagine in my place. Despite everything, you still see me as a reflection of him. As him. How much do I have to act out to prove that I’m not your friend? How much do I have to hurt you to show you that I’m not who you wish I was?

Stupid. So stupid. You’re so stupid, Sonic. I’m my own person. But it seems you don’t know me enough to realize it.

And you don’t realize that you don’t know me at all.

[laylawatermelon]

I didn't like the dinner scene... Or the progression of Buck's relationship.

Let's talk about it!

I've been lurking and waiting to form my full opinion (away from my buddie mind) and I will compare the two.

I came in the fandom rather late and before season 7 aired. Buddie had been the consensus ship let's say.

I want to talk about these things

Bi buck

Bi buck episode

The aftermath

The rise of tommy

The fall of tommy

Buddie and BuckTommy relationship

The wheel

As a fan and a writer I recently started doing in depth analysis for my favorite TV shows to challenge myself and learn the trade I'm eventually going to work with.

I'll start with my problem/observation with the hamsterwheel --> bucktommy relationship --> separation of Buddie --> differences between the relationship.

First the hamster wheel I truly believed that when he mentioned having to work hard and it being new and different I really expected something special.

Now as a Buddie before this happened I was like OMG its happening. All the way up until the last part of 7x04 (where i promptly blacked all the way out) and that Buck was going to work for Eddie.

In the case of the preview and marketing they did in fact put a beautiful buddie shaped blanket over the whole thing and pulled it away for a new ship.

Now it would make sense some fans would be mad. Most people have an otp. That doesn't change with anything.

Buddie was still very prominent with all the female love intrests so it became confusing to me with the response but I'll get back to that in a minute.

The kiss (which he didn't ask before and it was really sudden / can argue Buck was okay with it cause hot guy duh but still a lil mehh) was quick. It felt very hamster wheel like he's jumping into something new.

Then subsequently in the other episode called you don't know me aka the BUCK!! date where a closeted joke was made (funny in tv but not in real life).

Granted Buck could've handled it better but he literally brain melted. Your straight (?) friend catches you on your literal first date with a man in secluded past of town. Yeah I'm taking myself outside for a sec.

The Evan thing also applies. On screen we haven't gotten a denounc

ement of the name Buck and what it means. I don't know it feels like two separate lives if I think about it.

He's Evan with him but Buck with everyone else (this is very convoluted).

That name thing has been and will continue to be debated. 🤷🏾‍♀️

The hamster wheel sped up expeditiously when he invited him to his sister's wedding. Right after Eddie stated he is rushing too fast.

(Which Buck also does due to ✨abandonment issues✨)

Then the bachelor party where he didn't dress up.

I know people made real life excuses but the things is I'm a canon more than a fanon person.

(yes buddie isn't canon hypocrisy ik but WAIT)

What I mean by that is that I take what characters say and do at face value. That information forms my opinions of them.

Unfortunately there's been about 7 years and all couple parallels with Buddie so my brain was like yep, that's canon.

When Tommy was being discussed at first (and now) I'm still saying as that he's a blank sheet that the fans who've wanted Buck to be in a loving reciprocal relationship so that's being projected on him.

So that equates to him being a let's say "out of character" personality in the online space.

I said in an episode analysis that Tommy's interested and not invested and I stand by that until the show proves other wise or writes their relationship on a deeper level.

Fanon Tommy's character would've worn a costume, hell they might've been the ones matching.

Because he's that dedicated and invested.

In canon, he didn't even come up with a simple enough reason and just brished it aside.

Now once again the you don't know me and writing wise it's significant that Buck's not acknowledged as Buck, and his lover isn't allowed to call him that. They're cooking something.

Idk what it is or if it's burning or not. But it's cooking regardless.

Deep conversations. Honesty with Eddie.

Tommy. Redirection and minimization. (and a smidgen of jealousy)

I also had some qualms about the sexualization of Buck's character or the minimization or common theme of Buck being used/useful.

They make it a poetic irony that the man who failed to be useful in saving/being savior baby then be used throughout his adult life.

Whether that be a substitute/donor for his older brother, a fantasy or story for some, or a quick fling/easy relationship the writers haven't fully gotten him out of the hamster wheel.

(but they're cooking ik it. Im praying. Im hoping. Please be cooking!!)

The writing of the relationship is failing it. Unless it should be like that.

For the rest of the topics I was talking about the bi buck episode and how much it meant to TV.

As we still know, Hollywood/American TV is a global thermometer let's say and tends to be discussed/acknowledged/distributed worldwide. As a result when certain things are done in the shows it can be a milestone.

I can admit I overlooked some things (as I am an avid hunter of media especially HAPPY! queer stories being told of POC and otherwise) so I can sometimes forget how impactful/important certain things are for the American/world audience to see.

Like henren, a black lesbian couple with a kid! Married! Both incredibly successful in their respective jobs.

Like that alone could be a TV show honestly.

That's why when Bi Buck happened I was happy. (I legitimately blacked out because I didn't see or hear the preview right after 🤣🤣 I was distressed when I came to)

But honestly I am still happy and proud that it happened.

I didn't get the significant of the extent of visibility of having a male (later in life is important!) come out or be acknowledged as bisexual.

Granted in cannon the word hasn't been uttered or expanded on but they head a rough 10 episodes so I'll give em some slack.

But as a viewer and a writer I see how important it is to have it happen and the significance of it through real life stories and anecdotes and for that I am happy for that party of the relationship. 🥺

I won't take that moment away from them. Was it perfect (including all the other stuff afterwards?) No.

But was it necessary and messy and awkward like real life? Absolutely yes and I love it.

This is peak TV I tell you. (I've never blacked out like that to TV before so that was a first🤣)

But on a real note I was excited (and neutral towards Buck and Tommy being together).

I still ride the Buddie ship all start for to the context clues (slutty dangerous barbell scene anyone??) that it may be confusion on his part or at least leaving the door partly open for Buddie.

(it really could be just gauging the audience reaction)

I won't really talk about the second half of Buddie sexual identity because that either deserves it own post and has to be expanded on.

(Eddie i beg. The women of the world DON'T need you right now. Be a beautiful centerpiece. Do not traumatize the women of la no more. Take care of your son. Don't go through treacherous roads. Take the journey elsewhere. I beg!!!)

But on a serious note I noticed the quick turn I would say on the characterization/head canon of Buck's love interest.

I find it interesting that for female counterparts there hasn't been such a response. (I have heard about Buck Taylor riders though)

(this is my inner thoughts. Very hot. 10/10. My soul was pleased. Couple? Awful. Friends? Brilliant. Taylor motives? Nah you can't be round me with all that sneaky stuff)

But her character was the most expanded on.

But with Tommy, most of what's stated about the relationship at the beginning was headcanon.

I think where the shows heading is to show the incompatibility between them.

Tommy's scenes so far have been casual, smooth and easy.

He doesn't mind a quick date. He doesn't want to dress up for the theme. He'll be there but it's not too important to fuss about it.

The deleted scene is avoidant (which may become a character trait about emotions) to deeper conversations. We see this reflected as well when they're at the dinner after Bobby's finally pulled through (and Buck lost his son😭😭 I'm not even on no shipper shit that's his baby😭😭) and he starts to be vulnerable.

I expected it to lean more towards a heartwarming or honest conversation but one again he shuts it down.

What I think they're going to do with his character/have been doing is show that he's avoidant to confrontation.

(i could argue that for his friend he might do more because the Eddie flying things still throws me for a loop in comparison to how they're portraying their relationship)

But I stick by the interested not invested point.

With the little screen time they've had to develop his character they've shown that it's not really endgame they're just incompatible. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Comparing the Buddie and Tommy relationship the investment/support becomes a bit evident.

Not matching with Tommy. Incompatible.

Matching with Eddie. Compatible.

Deep conversations. Honesty with Eddie.

Tommy. Redirection and minimization. (and a smidgen of jealousy)

Now you can argue (as a writer in gritting my teeth as I type this) if they do go down the route of his love "changed" me, it it's a possibility to write him becoming a better partner through love or sum.

As Buck is very emotional and he can get him to open up be more serious as he sees him taking it seriously.

As a buddie that killed me!!!!! but as a writer i had to speak up.

Anyways... If it goes that route I'll hate it a little. Hare it and like it seesaw kind of (look ik potential when i see it)

The hate part is that once again it'll be uaed/hamster wheel/i have to prove or gain your love or show that you appreciate me.

Like it cause who doesn't like a good you changed me by being yourself?

I'm a hater through and through. 😤

Tommy as a character I was neutral on at first. I'm still lukewarm about the relationship itself but the character is falling into the same old box all love interests get.

Not enough character but more than enough sex.

Regarding Buck's relationship they're always a give and take, Buck ending up being more of a giver (I'm not defending no white man for his mistakes though he do be doing some things side eye worthy).

But because the love interests are just that and not fleshed out characters, they end up not being able to stand on their own and be interesting enough outside of the one off appearances.

With the exception of Karen my love, my sweetness.

But most of Buck and Eddie's love interests can sometimes be reduced to props to move plot along/give character development.

(which as a writer i didn't hate as it's a multi lead drama series but..... If they want a long term partner to be introduced they can write it like Karen)

I can think of many scenarios and ways to actually make the character less off-putting to some.

Examples: more enthusiasm/effort actually being put in (or maybe that's where the statement Buck had to work for it applies? That Buck had to work for his love ??? I'm speculating now), being more straightforward, the jealously not being brought up like twice now.

Sirens are blasting with that one 🚨🚨

(The characters actions being vetoed off screen doesn't help either. It also applies to a lot of problematic things that sweep under the rug. Only the queer characters cheating? Violence against each other? Goading into drinks? Kissing/cheating? Manipulation?.... Eh it's drama but the cheating storylines and the characters it happens to makes me a lil 👀...)

All in all me and my homegirls not pleased.

I ain't been swayed anywhere and the way the wind in this writing ain't blowing nowhere.

[howdidthisevenhappenanyway]

somehow a miracle has happened and I have some fics already finished for foxquin week

pray to the feeling-brave-for-posting gods that they’ll smile at me when the time comes!

putting this here just for me to keep track

Day 1 "I'll buy you time" or soulmate meeting maybe? still deciding.

Day 2 Undercover/undercover as civilians —finished

Day 3 “Technically it wasn't on fire" "Of course it wasn't on fire! You completely blew it up!" Wing AU —started

Day 4 Culture sharing/multicultural relationships —honestly faffing because there are so many things I could do for this one

Day 5 "I found him in the dumpster" —mostly done

Day 6 BAMF Quinlan and Fox Migraines/chronic pain —finished

Day 7 Quinlan as Guard general from the start —started

[foxeroni]

Jimmy is not loosing to wilbur soot in a cringefail competition. Of all things. Let me provide you some reasoning as to why traffic jimmy should win, or at least why you should vote for him.

Also this post is directed at EVERYONE. Not just trafficblr and fandoms adjacent to trafficlr. If you watch mcyts not related to the life series i would hope you would read, for i wish to sway your vote in favor of our sopping wet cat.

THE POINTS (very long btw)

1) He dies first every single game

For those who don't know, the smp that he's from is essentially minecraft hunger games with a twist. And of all people, it's this guy that dies. But not just dies. The twist is that you get three lives. And jimmy is the one who dies first. But. It goes for all three series (thus far). And he dies first every single time.

2. He gets a total of maybe one kill throughout the whole series

He has a comically low kill count in comparison to other players. I think he got maybe one kill in all three games? And that was on someone who killed him five minutes earlier. Said person is also his sister (kinda).

3. He has terrible luck with deaths and lives

Aside from the first point, aka the canary curse, he has awful luck with this stuff in general. In the second series, a twist is that you get more than, less than, or just, 3 lives before the game even starts. Jimmy is one of the most unlucky players in the entire game, as he hets only 2 lives.

In the third series, he had the default three lives, but instead, he shares deaths (and a health bar) with another player. Said player promptly gets blown up in the first 20 minutes. They then go on to die first (as usual).

4. He gets bitches, but not too many bitches

In the first series, pretty much as soon as it begins, he marries Scott Smajor. No, they do not date beforehand. Yes, it is less than 10 minutes into the first episode.

In the second series he is pathicly lonely (L)

In the third, as previously mentioned, the way he meets his mystery soulmate is because the guy kills him before they can meet properly. BUT. The twist here is that they actually have a healthy relationship. That being said, the couple with one of the most toxic relationship wins while these two get out first, but. They are failures after all.

5. Everyone makes fun of him

The first death thing makes him a laughingstock. Everyone makes fun of him all the time. Including his husband, sister (kinda), and brother (also kinda). He is pathetic and everyone knows it.

So yes, vote jimmy solidaritygaming. He is cringe and fail. He is pathetic. He is a wet paper bag of a man and has that loserboy swag. Vote for jimmy below.

[rooksunday]

going on holiday on saturday but primarily trying to finish the Fic That Ate My Face for corrie week. priorities 😌

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Wip Wednesday

The "Eddie sort-of proposes after the lightning strike" fic... Also about a longer, slower recovery, and Buck really actually accepting that the people around him love him no matter what. It's at 10k already somehow and needs probably another 5? Anyway: here's the opening scene...

Waking up is a shit show. Buck comes to choking on the intubation tube, panicking, trying to claw at his face with leaden arms. He's barely opened his eyes and the room is already spinning, terse voices of nurses only on his right side and only as if from deep underwater saying they'll have to sedate him again if he can't calm down. Trying to plead with plastic still down his throat, trying to hold still and follow instructions to breathe out hard as he can as they pull the horrible slimy thing out of him like a scene from Alien. His first ragged gasps on his own power hurt, his throat burns, his lungs ache, he coughs and it feels like his ribs are going to crack. People are asking questions but they sound so far away, and then he's gone again.

He becomes aware in dim little bursts. Maddie is crying, Bobby is holding his shoulders as Buck begs him not to make him leave, Hen's thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of his hand. His head hurts. Everything hurts. Doctors ask questions that he only knows some of the answers to. What's your name? Buck. Evan Buckley. Do you know where you are? A hospital, obviously. Do you know what day it is? No idea. Do you know what happened to you? Something bad. Something bright. What do you last remember? Eddie. Eddie saying "Go get 'em, cowboy."

Eddie is sitting next to him the first time he's really lucid. He looks fucked up. His hair is greasy, he hasn't shaved in a while, the bags under his eyes are big enough to carry groceries for the whole station. His hand is gripping the side of Buck's mattress, the taught stretch of skin over his bones translucent and bloodless. Buck's movements are still clumsy but he aims his arm well enough that their knuckles rest together. Eddie's head whips to stare at him, examining his face, eyes slowly tracking back and forth like he doesn't want to miss a single millimeter, and Buck idly wonders if he's got jello on his chin from Maddie's attempt to feed him lunch earlier. Eddie doesn't look like he's in a state of mind to give a shit.

"Hey," Buck rasps. How are you? Are you ok? What happened? How's Chris? I want to go home. My head hurts. Can I sleep on your couch? It's good to see you. "S' good to see you."

Eddie's face crumples. He looks away from Buck, hooks some of his fingers through his own. Buck grips as best he can. He feels nauseous. He remembers that Eddie had looked pale and small in his hospital bed after he got shot, and tries to make himself look bigger, to will blood into his cheeks.

"M' okay." It's sort of a lie, he feels worse than Eddie looks, but he's alive and he takes the deepest breath he can to prove it.

Eddie pulls his hand away with a sharp inhale of his own. He only glances at Buck as he works the ring off his finger. He holds it up, turns it back and forth, and sets it on the tray at Buck's side next to the half finished cup of red jello. It makes a click audible even to Buck's still muffled hearing.

"Don't ever leave me," Eddie says, eyes fixed on the wall behind the machine that monitors Buck's heart beat. He says it hoarsely, with the little furrow in his brow he gets when he's considering something carefully. Like he'd been running through everything he could possibly say, everything he'd thought and felt since light came down from the sky and cracked Buck in half, and those four words are the best way he can find to distill it all.

And Buck thinks Isn't that my line?

And Buck thinks don't make me swear to something I can't guarantee.

And Buck thinks I won't, not ever.

"Promise," is what he says, throat sandpaper. He looks at the ring, then at Eddie, who's still not looking at him. Look at me, please. After a few silent moments he tries to reach for the ring, unsure of what else to do, but the angle is difficult and his vision and arm swim with the effort.

Eddie, finally, looks back at him. He picks up the ring again, and gently grabs Buck's hand. There's a question on his face and Buck doesn't entirely understand what it is, but he nods. Eddie slides the ring onto Buck’s finger, and then leans forward and presses his lips to the strawberry mark above his eyebrow. Buck doesn't close his eyes, staring at the sudden close up view of Eddie's chin, staring as he pulls back again and settles into the chair. He keeps on staring, and Eddie stares back as Maddie comes back into the room, Bobby and Athena in tow. Everybody talks, they joke around, and Buck tries to keep up as he wonders if maybe he wasn't lucid after all.

[unforth]

I just realized USAdians on this website treat anti-capitalism the same way they treat voting.

As in: "I hate how this country is run, and I think both parties suck, so I won't vote." and when it's pointed out to them that treating both parties as "the same" when they're clearly NOT tends to lead to Republican victories and much worse public policies, they shrug and go "not my problem, I didn't vote" when it's like. Literally people not voting for Democrats because they'd prefer a Perfect Dream Candidate Who Is Much More Left is part of why Republicans win as often as they do, especially on a national level.

As in: "I hate capitalism and being advertised to, so fuck no, I won't give Tumblr/Mozilla/this small business/this independent creator my money, they advertised to me!" with zero recognition that as much as we all hate capitalism, we're fucking stuck with it, and the platforms you love won't exist without support, and small and individually owned business will cease to exist without customers, whereas their anti-capitalism "just don't buy things that are advertised to them" thinking doesn't hurt the big places at all and therefore their attitudes actually tend to further the most harmful aspects of capitalism instead of preventing them.

As it turns out, doing nothing is pretty much the exact opposite of virtuous in cases like this! Who'd have thunk!

(don't even get me started on the forms of privilege that go into saying, "the outcomes of this actually matter to me so little that I think it's better to do absolutely nothing than to compromise and support something that isn't perfect/exactly what I want." And definitely don't get me started when the platforms disappear, the business close, the bad laws are passed, and people go, "but I didn't vote for the Leopards Eating My Face party OR the Leopards Not Eating My Face party and it's not MY fault the Leopards Eating My Face party won so WHY ARE LEOPARDS EATING MY FACE?")

[nervouswreckhere]

hello nexo knights fandom, i'm going to be your new problem! rejoice!

i'm serious this is my new hyper-fixation, here read something that popped up in my brain:

Later, the legends would speak of the knight ensnared in the witch's magic. About his quick descent. They would rave about his redemption and her defeat. No one would speak of the grey area - the times he laughed with joy as he cut his way through the hordes of stone-faced enemies. When he attacked everyone - foe or friend - with ruthlessness previously unseen. No one wanted to remember that he was twice as evil and vengeful as their supposedly wicked enemies. Yes... The legend wouldn't speak of that.

[thesoundofmadness]

I fucking hate conservatives I swear to fucking god can y'all not think critically about shit for 5 fucking seconds

[gigglegirlhappy]

I threw this in the tags before but it deserves its own post.

So we only ever see Sonic hog out at night in any official capacity, and when he does, his speed gets turned into strength. It’s an inverse of his strengths and weaknesses, like how nighttime can be seen as an inversion of the day.

What if that inversion applied for everybody?

Imagine!

Werefox Tails losing his flight and air mobility, but gaining a body more specialized towards burrowing underground tunnels!

Weremeleon Espio losing his quick reflexes and sharp senses, but gaining a much more durable and armored body like a Samurai’s armor that can weather any storm!

Weremadillo Mighty losing his incredible strength and strong defensive shell, but gaining incredible speed and agility like an ambush predator!

The possibilities are endless!

Y’all remember how in the rebooted Archie Sonic continuity, Sonic’s Werehog transformation was caused by him inhaling some nasty Dark Gaia essence, resulting in a slow, gradual first transformation that took place over several days?

I humbly propose a Sonic Unleashed AU, where the events of Sonic Unleashed play out pretty much the same as they usually do, but with one key exception: the fissures that resulted from the world splitting apart emits the same misty vapor, resulting in other mobians having to deal with the whole Werehog thing after some nonce inevitability ends up inhaling the stuff.

I feel like, since Chip gives Sonic the whole spiel about how it was his own will that kept him pure, the personality of werehoggified mobians should probably fall more in like with how it affects people being influenced by Dark Gaia, but with more feral and frenzied undertones, similar to the crazed frenzy Archie Sonic found himself in during his first proper transformation.

I’d love to see how something along those lines would affect not only the story, but also the character’s relationship with one another. We didn’t see many mobians in Unleashed, which makes me wonder more about how, for example, Team Chaotix would deal with a newly werehogified member (or members).

We have a lot of story potential here today fellas!!!!!!

[highvern]

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter. 

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement. 

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding. 

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy— 

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back. 

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor. 

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop. 

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as  “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place. 

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough. 

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now. 

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation. 

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette. 

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it. 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” 

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth.  “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.” 

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs. 

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means. 

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music. 

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach. 

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name. 

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection. 

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct.  “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence. 

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?” 

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance. 

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down. 

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin. 

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf. 

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his. 

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs. 

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation. 

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along. 

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.” 

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books. 

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months. 

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs. 

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers. 

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch. 

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’ 

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours. 

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again. 

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth. 

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull. 

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive. 

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder. 

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider. 

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted? 

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been. 

“They were out.” 

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing. 

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines. 

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.” 

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?” 

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. 

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen. 

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning. 

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom. 

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?” 

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.” 

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back. 

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt. 

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg. 

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely. 

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head. 

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy. 

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth. 

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry. 

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down. 

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens. 

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load. 

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side. 

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth. 

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter. 

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school. 

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed. 

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument. 

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now. 

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

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