#if i had to repeat last week a billion times over just to get a replay of saturday i would

[lizard-rustler]

i hate missing her because i cant do much else except miss her 😭 the the thoughts of her freeze me in place and hold me down so i cant focus on anything else. god she’s gonna be the death of me

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #18

May 10-17 2024

The Justice Department endorses lifting many restrictions on marijuana. Since the 1970s marijuana has been classified as a Schedule I controlled substance, the most restrictive classification for drugs that are highly addictive, dangerous and have no medical use, like heroin. Schedule I drugs are nearly impossible to get approval for research studies greatly hampering attempts to understand marijuana and any medical benefits it may have. The DoJ recommends moving it to Schedule III, drugs with low risk of abuse like anabolic steroids, and testosterone. This will allow for greater research, likely allow medical marijuana, and make marijuana a much less serious offense. President Biden welcomed DoJ's decision, a result a review of policy he ordered. Biden in his message talked about how he's pardoned everyone convicted of marijuana possession federally. The President repeated a phrase he's said many times "No-one should be in jail just for using or possessing marijuana,"

The Department of Interior announced no new coal mining in America's largest coal producing region. The moratorium on new coal leases has been hailed as the single biggest step so fair toward ending coal in the US. The Powder River Basin area of Wyoming and Montana produces 40% of the nations coal, the whole state of West Virginia is just 14%. The new rule is estimated to reduce emissions by the equivalent of 293 million tons of carbon dioxide annually, the same as taking 63 million gas powered cars off the road.

Vice-President Harris announced that the Biden-Harris Administration had broken records by investing $16 billion in Historically Black Colleges and Universities. Harris, a graduate of Howard University, is the first President or Vice-President to have gone to a HBCU. The Administration's investment of $900 million so far in 2024 brought the total investment of the Biden-Harris administration in HBCUs to $16 billion more than double the record $7 billion. HBCUs produce 40% of black engineers, 50% of black teachers, 70% of black doctors and dentists, and 80% of black judges. HBCUs also have a much better record of helping social mobility and moving people out of generational poverty than other colleges and universities.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development announced $30 billion dollars in renewal funding for the Housing Choice Voucher Program. The program supports 2.3 million families that are in need of housing with vouchers that help pay rent. This funding represents a $2 billion dollar increase over last year.

The Department of Agriculture announced $671.4 million in investments in rural infrastructure. The money will go to project to improve rural electric grids, as well as drinking water and wastewater treatment infrastructure. The money will go to 47 projects across 23 states.

HUD announced a record breaking $1.1 billion dollar investment in Tribal housing and community development. HUD plans just over 1 billion dollars for the Indian Housing Block Grant (IHBG) program. This is a 40% increase in funding over 2023 and marks the largest ever funding investment in Indian housing. HUD also is investing $75 million in community development, supporting building and rehabbing community buildings in American Indian and Alaska Native communities.

The Department of Transportation announced $2 billion in investments in America's busiest passenger rail route, the Northeast Corridor between Washington DC and Boston. This is part of a 15 year, $176 billion plan to rebuild the corridor’s infrastructure and prepare for increased ridership and more trains. So far investments have seen a 25% increase, 7 million riders, over figures last year. a fully funded plan would almost double Amtrak service between New York City and Washington, D.C., and increase service between New York City and Boston by 50%. It would also allow a 60% increase in commuter trains.

HUD announced plans to streamline its HOME program. Currently the largest federal program to help build affordable housing, the streamlining of the rules will speed up building and help meet the Biden Administration's goal of 2 million new affordable housing units. HUD announced last week $1.3 billion dollars for the HOME program, which built 13,000 new units of housing in 2023 and helped 13,000 families with rental assistance

The Department of Interior announced $520 million in new water projects to help protect against drought in the western states. The funding will support 57 water related projects across 18 western states. The projects focus on climate resilience and drought prevention, as well as improving aging water delivery systems, and improving hydropower generation.

The Departments of Agriculture and HHS have stepped up efforts to wipe out the H5N1 virus prevent its spread to humans while protecting farmers livelihoods. The virus is currently effecting dairy cattle in the Texas panhandle region. The USDA and HSS are releasing wide ranging funds to help support farms equipping workers with Personal Protective Equipment, covering Veterinary costs, as well as compensating farmers for lost revenue. HHS and the CDC announced $101 million in testing an monitoring. This early detection and action is key to preventing another Covid style pandemic.

The Senate confirmed Sanket Bulsara to a life time federal judgeship in New York and Eric Schulte and Camela Theeler to lifetime federal judgeships in South Dakota. This brings the total number of judges appointed by President Biden to 197. For the first time in history the majority of a President's judicial nominees have not been white men.

Bonus: The 11th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that transgender health insurance exclusions were illegal. The ruling came from a case first filed in 2019 where an employer refused to cover an employee's gender affirming surgery. The court in its ruling sited new guidance from the Biden Administration's Equal Employment Opportunity Commission that declared that Title VII of the Civil Rights Act protects trans people in the work place. These kinds of guidelines are often sited in court and carry great weight.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - June 30 - Week 26

Hello, friends! Hopefully you had an amazing week. As a quick note, tomorrow AO3 will be down for a substantial amount of time, so be sure you have your fic needs prepared for that. I’ll be sharing the monthly podfic rec list later in the day to account for that. 

Now here’s this week’s recs! 

*

I don't think there's a manual for this by itsallAvengers

So. His son can stick to things, apparently.

If only Tony had realised this before he'd caught him hanging off the 89th floor of the tower.

Well. Parenting was never going to be a smooth road, was it?

my thoughts: it’s so fluffy. Steve’s exhaustion and panic are spot on for a new parent, and Tony just needs a nap and toddler proof glass. 

Found My Heart Wandering by ItsMayBiTheWay 

The scenery, for lack of better words, is simply breathtaking. The colors of the sunset before him, as he crosses his legs on the wooden pier, reach inside Steve’s sternum and cradle his heart gently, the soft pinks and blues swaying in the sky to create the perfect shade of lilac.

They fill in the cracks like the ancient art of kintsugi, proudly emphasizing all the scars with gold- you are better for all the scars you take, Steven, it shows you have loved, it shows you have lost- it all shows you have lived; instead of wasting your heart away, the voice of his mother repeats.

Backpacking across Europe for inspiration for his upcoming art show after a bad breakup; the last thing Steve expects to find is love.

my thoughts: i love a good meet cute. This was adorable. 

Take the Moment and Taste It by betheflame

“You cannot be serious, Tony! A friendship bracelet.”

Tony Stark grinned up at his business partner from his place bent over the lawnmower engine he was tinkering with. “Aw, Pep, come on. It worked for Travis.”

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you honestly want to pattern your love life off of a fanfic come to life, to a straight man, be my guest, but have you considered that you cannot just waltz into a mall and wait in line for a hockey player’s autograph?”

Or, Steve is a closeted hockey player, Tony is a publicly gay fanboy, and the NHL has no idea what's about to hit it.

my thoughts: a Tayvis flavored sportsball AU? What’s NOT to love?? I had a lot of fun reading this one and was sad when it ended. 

it might just have been you by Areiton 

"You have the whole world in front of you, Tony," Steve says, slowly. "When you get off this boat, there's nothing to stop you from living the life you want. If that's as a mechanic with a nice Alpha--you can have that. Just because what you grew up with is trash, doesn't mean that all alphas are. You can still have exactly what you want."

Tony laughs, and it feels brittle, sharp, cutting at his throat as it spills between them. "There aren't nice Alphas, Captain. No one is nice enough to walk away from a billion dollar fortune for someone like me."

"I would," Steve says, and it feels like a confession, like something he doesn't mean to share, and all the more precious for it. 

my thoughts: um. Well, so I wrote this one? But I haven’t read it since I wrote it a year ago and it was a lot of fun to see what happened with these two. Bearded Steve is kinda amazing. 

If The Collar Doesn't Fit by askaniblue 

Subs need to belong to a dom. That's the law and being Captain America doesn't place you above the law. But when Steve shows up to a fight with ugly looking injuries Tony gets worried. Tony starts digging. Of course Iron Man is a switch, everyone knows that, so what does he know about what goes on between doms and subs? And why should Steve listen when Iron Man charges in to his defense? No other dom wanted the contract of an overgrown sub like Steve. Not even Mr. Stark.

My thoughts: i really love the dynamics here and Tony taking care of Steve is everything to me. 

[lorena12me]

Timbern Week 2023 Day 3:

“My boyfriend has an identical scar here” | Fanfic Writer Bernard | Hurt / Comfort (comfort will come with the announcement of the 7th)

Title:

Five minutes to go

Summary:

If you only had 5 minutes to live, what would you do with them?

The world was so devastated after the latest apocalypse that the Justice League decided to send Flash back in time to prevent destruction. Tim and Bernard embrace as they watch the world they met in fade away. Aware that in this new timeline they may never be together again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Bear" Tim say softly, clinging to Bernard with all his might, ignoring the pain and wounds that filled his body after surviving the final fight to save the earth from invasion.

His Robin suit was in tatters, blood and tears splattering every part of his body where Bernard laid his eyes. It wasn't the first time Bernard had seen him hurt, limping and bleeding, but it was the first time he had seen him so scared. So vulnerable.

"You won, Tim, it's over" consoles the blond, but Tim denies and looks him in the eye, tears beginning to fall, a line of translucent glass wiping a small gap of grime on Tim's mangled face.

"No, we didn't" his voice cracks "we stopped him, but it's too late, everything is ruined."

"W-what?"

"The machines had already extracted a large amount of the earth's magma and it's predicted that there will be earthquakes and drastic climate changes over the next few years…billions of people will die Bern…we didn't win it in time"

Bernard's mouth goes dry, horror coursing through his veins like scarecrow poison, but it's worse because it's real. The world was spared the violent and swift destruction of the enemy, but doomed to perish slowly and agonizingly like a poisoned animal.

"What are we going to do?" he asks, the food stored in the safe houses and the various bat bases will last only so long and if the planet will take so many years to stabilize everything will become a repeat of no man's land globally.

"Bear… Bernard" Tim grits his teeth forcing himself to say the following words "The justice league decided that it's too much unrecoverable damage… they're going to send an agent back in time to prevent all this."

"But that's good, right?" Bernard smiles shakily and then is horrified when Tim nods and then shakes his head in despair.

"It'll prevent this whole mess, sure" he says finally "But… Bear, traveling back in time involves rewriting the whole timeline. There's… a lot of things that are going to change or cease to exist… it's a coin flip about what's going to stay the same"

"…" Bernard begins to understand and doesn't think he's liking what's being implied "What does that mean for us, Tim?" he exhales

"It means there's nothing to assure us that you or I…we, exist."

Bernard feels his heart stop for a moment, his breathing quickens and eyes water finally realizing how much they are about to lose.

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know… Minutes?" Tim pulls his hair then lets go and takes three determined steps until he's beside Bernard, pulling him into another hug "I just heard they made the decision before I turned around and used the last of the Zeta-tube's energy to get back here."

Here… Tim left his family behind, the other bats to come back to Bernard… He squeezes his arms tightly around his Robin, crying, because Tim just chose him, as he has every time, even when Bernard has felt so unworthy of it. Every damn time Tim makes it clear to him that he doesn't have to fight for him, for his love. That he's chosen it because he loves him the same way Bernard loves him.

"I didn't want it all to end without being able to see you at least one more time, Bear…"

"I love you" Bernard cries through tears "I love you Tim, you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I love you Bear… I…"

Before Tim can finish whatever he was going to say, the horizon beyond Gotham begins to glow with an orange and white glow. They both turn around without releasing their embrace, to watch as the light grows bigger and bigger. It's not like an explosion, there's no sound or shockwave, the light approaches them silently and Bernard hasn't yet finished processing that there's a giant chance he's about to cease to exist, but, he thinks hysterically as the light reaches out and engulfs them, there's no other person he wants to fade into nothingness with, than Tim.

(reposted because I finished writing the drabble that accompanied the drawing)

[questionablequeeries]

Your Kiss Is On My List by Hall and Oates

“Kiss me.”

“…Excuse me?” Steve looked at Eddie, who was slightly out of breath as he burst into the Family Video, clutching a paper and camera.

“Kiss me so I can get a picture.” Eddie clarified, thereby making shockingly even less sense.

Steve put a hand on his hip and arched a brow, “Why?” He highly doubted it was a spur of the moment thing, though there was the less logical part that screamed at him to shut up and accept the man’s offer.

Eddie let out a long, dramatic sigh before slapping his paper onto the counter, “I’m doing a scavenger hunt. You know, the one the radio station’s putting on?”

“…Okay?”

“And the more outlandish the thing you can bring in, the more points you get.” Eddie stopped there as if that should be obvious, and Steve was impressed by the much longer, far more dramatic sigh when he realized there were no dots being connected. He wondered if he should applaud, “I have everything except the last thing, and that’s worth the most.”

Steve’s eyes trailed down to the bottom of the page before he frowned, “‘The impossible’? Eddie, if this is because it’s impossible for me to kiss boys, I think I’ve been out way too long for it to shock anyone that I’m bi.” And he wasn’t stupid, knew the influence of the Harrington name protected him slightly from the backlash Eddie received for the very same ‘crime’. Well, similar. Eddie was completely gay, and Steve wasn’t planning on looking too deeply inside of himself to figure out why that delighted him.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “No, it’s because it’s impossible for King Steve to be kissing The Freak. I’ll get, like, a billion points for that!” He grinned like he hadn’t said something that absolutely broke Steve’s heart.

“Hey, why do you think that?” Steve frowned, the joyful air sucked out of the room.

“Because you’re perfect and I’m literally just me.” Eddie crossed his arms and looked down, toeing the carpet with his sneaker, “You’re everything I’m not, so it’s kinda tough to think you’d ever go for someone like me.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Not exactly a catch as a super super super senior.”

“You only had to repeat because you were in a coma.” Steve argued, “And you were in a coma because you were saving Dustin. That deserves some accolades.”

Eddie shrugged again then sighed, but this time it was far too real for Steve’s liking, “Look, can I get the picture or not? Daylight’s burning.” He waggled his Polaroid.

“…Fine.” Steve nodded, grabbing a sticky note and scribbling something down. He leaned over and there were sudden sparks waiting for him. He was sure his heart was about to beat right out of its chest as he was enveloped by the scent of cigarettes and cologne, the taste of Hubba Bubba, the feeling of slight chap and the beginning of a five o’clock shadow. With a flash of light, it was over far too soon for his liking.

Eddie grabbed the picture as it printed, shaking it to make it dry faster, “Thanks, I’ll be sure to buy you something with the prize mo-“ His voice caught in his throat as he stared down, face becoming a new and exciting shade of red. Yes, there was the kiss but, below it, was a post-it note clutched between Steve’s thumb and forefinger, facing the camera: ‘Eddie, will you go out with me this Friday? -Steve’

Steve decided to break the stretching silence, “You could buy me dinner.” And his grin grew to match the one before him, both equally delighted by the possibility of the impossible.

The newest prompt by @steddie-week, and you can follow along on AO3:

[mikkouille]

Dear mutual @mashmouths taggie me for the game of 'Post the ten first songs on your 'On repeat' playlist on Spotify' or SMTH like that.

As I do not have a Spotify, idk what all that means, but I decided to eyeball it from what the randomiser of my phone seems to give ten times a day, from me local files.

It is a hard work of statistic 100% accurate nothing could go wrong (lie, girlie behind me in the train loudly licking chips crumbs off her fingers and chewing. noise unbearable. thought jumbled over it. the statistics have been messed up). Basically, just clicking 'next song' til I get one that makes me go oh yeh she plays all the time'. What's on my Bandcamp isn't on my local files so unfortsh we lose a whole lot of potential songs there. It's life.

1. Boris Farewell, honestly she's so good portable. I can vibe on my better audio equipment, I can vibe in the metro, in a crowd, she'll always be an enjoyable one no matter the sounds around me.

2. doechii Stressed, well damn so true. I must be stressed too.

3.Nature LIMBO, LIMBO LIMBO LIIIIIIIIIM BO LIMBO LIMBO LIIM

4. Moses Sumney Gargarin, it's hilarious how I'll hear this song ten billion times a week from shuffle, go 'oh what's that song it's nice- oh right of course' somehow there's a spell on it that makes me forget the name. but not that I like it.

5. Britney Spears Outrageous, it's not even my fave of its album yet my phone is OBSESSED with her. Outrageous. When I move my body OUTRAGEOUS when I'm at a party OUTRAGEOUS in my sexy jeans

6. THORNAPPLE As Above So Below, had a phase in my life where I looped that song for hours and then days nothing else, my shuffle never recovered I think.

7. vvv Oh dirty Leeds, I swear it's been months since I Voluntarily of my own clicked the song, she's part of the landscape of my shuffle.

8. ShinEE The Feeling, if I hit shuffle I am sure to hear it at a point or another. It's like the home screen at this point.

9. shygirl BAWDY, it's criminal how you will never witness the gay AMV that happen in my head when this song plays (10 times a day).

10. FLO Losing you, often in immediate succession with the previous one. Keep them on their toes....

++++bonus

for some reason my phone constantly plays christi interlude, but not any other song from the album... hey there sweetieeee I was just taking a look at your cHArt and OoOøh myYyi GOODNESS (goodness) You Are. experiencing THE most powerful transit right now. we have the FUOUL MOÖN. Today! At 24 degreeeeees of CAPricorn. we have PLUTO. the MAIN! planet of transfhow delightful ☺️ you were born on a Nyew Myoon :] that gives you such an OPTImistic EnErgy. you believe Anything can Happen. the woooorld is you Oyster :] the Symbol! of the New Moon... is the SEED star seed (star seed) SCA(???neverunderstoodthatword) thru the galactic Center to Evolve Humanity.

btw last time it played it, it immediately played Rina's Take me as I am and honestly the transition was so seamless to me. granted the child screaming in the BG of the train I was in did help blending stuff together but.

didn't put any song of The Kpopman's group BC it'd have been passé. cliché. frenchwordé. you can assume that yes, it throws some at me at regular intervals. Respect my privacy. (I think if I had to identify one that I'm fed the most it'd have to be Venom, every shuffle she'll be here)

Also I got songs from the game tho and aside from. the. mh. miss answers. which I respectfully skip whenever out cuz it's for in private. I have to ask my phone; what's with amdapor. carrying the dungeon ost pack...

-----

The total here is somewhat cohesive but also doesn't feel complete, alas it's all one can do with 10 songs...

Tagging; ppl who don't have a Spotify only.

[xtruss]

“Utterly Dismayed”: Air Force Engineer Resigns As Dissent Against Gaza War Slowly Spreads Within Military

“I don’t want to be working on something that can turn around and be used to slaughter innocent people.”

— Prem Thakker | June 18, 2024 | The Intercept

New York, New York — February 27: A sign with words one of the last words said by U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell is seen during a vigil at the US Army Recruiting Office in Times on February 27, 2024 in New York City. Bushnell died after setting himself on fire outside the Israeli Embassy in Washington, DC on Sunday. In a video that was posted to a social media account showing the act, he stated that would “No Longer be Complicit in Genocide," before pouring an unknown liquid over himself and igniting it while yelling “Free Palestine” repeatedly. Photo by Michael M. Santiago/Getty Images

Sixteen Years Ago, Riley Livermore enlisted in the Air Force. His path to the military was shaped by his evangelical Christian upbringing and growing up amid the war on terror. His ensuing career as a flight test engineer took him to Israel, where he spent two years doing missile guidance research. And shortly after October 7, he decided he couldn’t continue anymore.

Livermore is “utterly dismayed” by how President Joe Biden and the Department of Defense “has been complicit in the genocide in Gaza,” he told The Intercept. So much so that he is in the final steps of separating from the Air Force, a monthslong process he initiated in late October. Once he officially exits the military, he said, he will never again work in what he describes as the military–industrial complex.

“I don’t want to be working on something that can turn around and be used to slaughter innocent people,” he said. “I think the dissonance just kind of continued to get louder and louder, it’s like ‘I can’t really do this anymore.’”

Livermore joins a burgeoning wave of dissent within the Biden administration and the military over U.S. support for Israel’s war on Gaza — including nine prominent resignations in recent months; 25-year-old Airman Aaron Bushnell’s self-immolation in February; and a new service member-led campaign to help soldiers speak out against elected officials’ support for Israel’s war.

The latter campaign comes in the wake of Jewish Maj. Harrison Mann’s public resignation from the U.S. Army, in protest of America’s “nearly unqualified support for the government of Israel, which has enabled and empowered the killing and starvation of tens of thousands of innocent Palestinians.”

In the weeks since Mann’s resignation, The Intercept has heard from members of the armed forces who expressed emotions ranging from guilt and frustration to outrage and repudiation regarding the Biden administration’s unconditional support for Israel, which includes billions of dollars in military aid as well as political and diplomatic cover. The testimonies, while limited in scope, nevertheless signal dissent within American power structures bubbling beyond the public resignations and protests seen thus far. The Department of Defense declined to comment.

“Every single one of my friends in the military agree that this is a genocide,” one seven-year member of the Army wrote in a message. “We’re all outraged by the repeated war crimes and depravity of Israel, as well [as] America’s complicity/enabling.”

Riley Livermore joined the Air Force 16 years ago. At the onset of Israel’s war on Gaza, he decided to leave. Photo: Courtesy of Riley Livermore

An Airman’s Evolution

Livermore first commissioned with the Air Force in 2012, and after graduating with a master’s degree from the Air Force Institute of Technology two years later, he was selected to go to Israel for an engineering sciences exchange program.

During his two years there, Livermore researched missile guidance algorithms while learning Hebrew, immersing himself in the culture, and making friends. “Israel had kind of a special place in my heart,” he said. Ironically, Livermore’s open-armed experience in Israel is what helped lead him to his belief today that the U.S. government may be complicit in supporting an Israeli genocide against Palestinians.

The first seed was planted by a Palestinian friend in the Air Force who pulled him aside before he departed for Israel. The friend warned him of possibly being met with a lopsided story about Israel and Palestine, Livermore recalled. He said his friend introduced him to the Israel lobby — like the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, or AIPAC — and its influence on U.S. politics. He also recalled his friend advising him simply to note where people “start the story” when they talk about the country’s history: Do they acknowledge historic Palestine, or is their starting point the Balfour Declaration or the creation of the state of Israel in 1948?

“I’m so grateful for that because it kind of helped me, maybe inoculate a little bit from what I see now is like heavily Zionist propaganda. And it always didn’t sit well with me, in general, just some of the Zionist talking points as far as, like, we’re a nation surrounded by enemies, but yet we’re the strongest around,” Livermore said. “There’s also this sense of being an American, being in the American military — it’s like America owes Israel something. There’s a lot of things, dynamics I didn’t super like.”

In language classes he took before his deployment and in interactions with people from around the world upon arriving, he added, his conversations with peers began to challenge his preexisting assumptions.

“‘We’re the good guys. They’re the bad guys. We’re protecting interests abroad. We’re the fighters for democracy.’ Like, it kind of put a lot of cracks in that,” Livermore said.

Riley Livermore spent two years in Israel as a member of the U.S. Air Force. Photo: Courtesy of Riley Livermore

Livermore’s experience in Israel also challenged his faith. He grew up evangelical Christian and was active in his church, where he met his wife. In Israel, he joined what’s called a messianic congregation: a self-proclaimed Jewish sect that embraces evangelical Christianity.

Having grown up as a Christian nationalist, he began to see self-avowedly moral and pro-life people setting those values aside for the sake of their political interests, which intersected with Israeli policy aims, pointing to widespread support for President Donald Trump’s moving of the embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem as an example. He saw his faith being used as a “cudgel for capitalism and power and oppressing people.” While maintaining a strong connection to a Jesus who preached love today, he added, he “doesn’t believe in white Jesus anymore,” the Jesus “wrapped in an American flag with an M4.”

Livermore slowly grew disenchanted with the military, especially as he reflected more on how the U.S. waged war in Iraq and Afghanistan. “I’ve had friends who died,” he said. “It’s like, what’s this all for?”

Then came October 7. His exposure to Israeli military brass during his training, as well as the rhetoric he heard from Israeli friends in October, primed him for how ugly things could get.

“I knew just how bad it was going to be and how there would be wholesale acceptance from the Israeli population,” Livermore said, offering “demolish Gaza, wipe it off the face of the earth” as an example of the types of comments he heard.

Before October 7, Livermore said, he would “have been a little bit more of an Israeli apologist, or like ‘it’s complicated,’ kind of take-a-both-sides-type approach.” Israel’s war on Gaza, however, was a “pry bar that kind of ripped it wide open.”

Livermore’s work in the Air Force has mainly focused on research and development, he said, though he’s worked with several contractors he reckons had a more direct link with operations in Gaza. He said that learning more about Israel’s use of targeting systems like Gospel and Lavender — artificial intelligence systems that have mechanized Israel’s war on Gaza, with little oversight — scared him. He credits his wife for helping him “cut through the bullshit” and not simply put his head down without engaging with the moral stakes.

It’s not an easy process to leave, Livermore noted. “The joke is the only harder thing than getting into the military is getting out of it.” He said it’s typically a multi-month ordeal, including congressionally mandated training and bureaucratic exit processing. There are also varied contingencies and approval processes based on how long members have served. In his case, the process he commenced last year will be finalized later this summer.

“Not only do I want to get out of active duty, but I want nothing to do with anything that’s directly like the military–industrial complex,” he said. “It’s not worth the money.”

Breaking Points

For Livermore, Mann’s resignation letter was extremely relatable. The Jewish Army major described the anticipation of waiting for things to improve or to end, only for them not to. It was a similar feeling that bolstered Livermore’s resolve to act on his preexisting inclinations to leave the Air Force.

Nemesis Hazim, who serves as a doctor in the U.S. Army, also found Mann’s decision a source of comfort as she’s grappled with her role in the military. “I wish I could just quit…… but at least this is validating and makes me feel like I’m not the only one feeling completely out of place,” Hazim wrote to The Intercept.

She said she enlisted to help pay for medical school and has rationalized her way through because of it. “But it gets harder and harder,” she said, adding that she’ll fulfill her time obligations in November 2025.

“I feel useless, ideally I would get out now and volunteer in Gaza, but I don’t have that option until they no longer own me.”

One 22-year member of the Air Force who comes from a lineage of service members described to The Intercept his evolution from committed foot soldier to today fearing that the U.S. is enabling genocide.

In the wake of Bushnell’s self-immolation, he appealed to higher-ups to lead conversations around mental health and Gaza. Those efforts didn’t go anywhere, but he himself broached the subject of Bushnell with his unit to indicate it was safe to talk about the war on Gaza. After Mann resigned, the Air Force member wrote a letter to a senior officer that invoked some of Mann’s own words and once again requested internal conversations to help people cope with the war.

“At some point — whatever the justification — we’re either advancing a policy that enables the mass killing and starvation of innocent people and children or we’re not,” he wrote. “We’re either advancing the destruction of schools, hospitals, and life-supporting infrastructure of 2+ million people or we’re not.”

In a message to The Intercept, he wrote that he condemns Hamas’s attacks on Israel as well as “any and all anti-semitism and Islamophobia.”

“At the same time,” he continued, “I also condemn what I feel is not a proportional response by Israel (as it related to international Law of Armed Conflict). I also feel like our country and leaders are enabling what seems to be genocide.”

“It was indeed preparing us to potentially do harm to others but also to desensitize us to that fact.”

It’s a remarkable turnaround for someone who enthusiastically enlisted in the wake of 9/11. “I remember feeling proud that I would be able to join the Armed Forces to help rid the world of terrorism.” He recalled the “hype” videos that were part of training in the academy. “We would see videos of jets flying at high speed, dropping bombs, tanks firing munitions, etc. while Bombs Over Baghdad by Outkast or Bodies (‘Let the Bodies Hit the Floor’) by Drowning Pool played.”

Reflecting on the academy atmosphere now, he said, “whether intentional or not … it was indeed preparing us to potentially do harm to others but also to desensitize us to that fact as well.”

His time as an intelligence analyst in Afghanistan, where he said he observed military abuses of ordinary Afghans, contributed to his eventual disillusionment with the U.S. military.

Still, he’s decided to remain enlisted in hopes of encouraging younger soldiers to view things more critically — even as America’s relentless support for Israel’s campaign against Gaza makes it increasingly difficult.

The seven-year member of the Army who expressed outrage at the war enlisted at the age of 21, they said, because they had just become homeless, had to drop out of college, and didn’t know where else to go. The military changed their life for the better, they said.

“I would do 20 years if our country didn’t use the armed forces to commit war crimes and violate international law at every step.”

But the war on Gaza has taken its toll. “I’ve been at the edge of my limits pretty much since the conflict started,” they said. And the recent U.S.-supported Israeli operation to rescue four Israeli hostages that killed at least 274 Palestinians and injured hundreds of others felt like a “breaking point … one that feels too little too late, but better late than never I guess.”

They are “experiencing tangible mental health consequences as a result of watching a genocide in real time while simultaneously wearing a uniform that represents it,” they said. Consequently, they plan to exit when their contract is up next year and also stay away from any Department of Defense-related work.

“I would do 20 years if our country didn’t use the armed forces to commit war crimes and violate international law at every step,” they wrote. “It feels like every conflict we participate in or facilitate is fucking sinister and evil.”

Capitol Police Captain Rani Brooks warns Brittany Ramos DeBarros and other U.S. military veterans occuping Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand's (D-NY) office that they risk arrest if they do not stop blocking the door as they demand a ceasefire in Gaza. They refuse to leave until they speak to Gillibrand - known for her support of veterans - in person or by phone. Photo by Allison Bailey/NurPhoto via AP

Organized Resistance

Earlier this month, a coalition of veterans and anti-war organizations launched a campaign to help people in the military who are similarly struggling with U.S. support for Israel’s “continued war on the people of Palestine” to advocate against it.

The campaign — led by Veterans for Peace, the Center on Conscience and War, About Face: Veterans Against the War, and the Military Law Task Force of the National Lawyers Guild — provides people in active duty, the National Guard, and the reserves with guidance and legal advice on how to raise concerns about the war with elected officials.

The groups have prepared templates that service members can use to reach out to elected officials. “We are not mere pawns in a political game; we are human beings with the capacity for empathy, compassion, and moral discernment. It is time for us to reclaim our humanity and refuse to be complicit in the genocide of an entire people,” one template reads.

As of Monday, about 30 service members had engaged with the process, according to Mike Ferner, special projects manager at Veterans for Peace.

The “Appeal for Redress v2” effort is inspired by a campaign of the same name that took place in 2006 and 2007. That campaign, the groups say, led to nearly 3,000 armed service members sending protected communications to their congressional representatives calling for an end to the wars and occupations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Former Ohio Rep. Dennis Kucinich helped deliver over 1,000 signatures to Congress on a statement that carried the calls.

Senior Airman Larry Hebert, who is seeking conscientious objector status, told The Intercept he views the new effort as baseline action that every service member should take part in. “This is your constitutional right and I advise everyone to exercise that right,” he said. “Whether you like to believe it or not, the Department of Defense supports the missions that kills innocent Palestinians. We cannot just ignore this fact.”

[crystalelemental]

Last week, I failed miserably to do an F2P clear, because the Electric-weak Siebold stage is...bullshit?  It's bullshit.  If you don't have an EX Striker in Hau or BP Sophocles, get out.  So with that in mind, I gave up.  This week, however.  This week was revenge.

Vs. Wikstrom Ghost-weak is a fantastic time, because Shauntal just casually tosses out like a billion damage per attack.  She's ridiculous.  Agatha being able to sleep lockdown the opponent means you operate pretty freely.  Lodge Morty is a little slow to max out Shauntal, but he gets the job done easily enough that Agatha's stalling does make all the difference.

Vs. Malva BP Karen is not my favorite to use, but I'm getting used to her.  Sometimes you just have to throw around Double Edge.  Her recoil is nothing short of severe, she can 2HKO herself on recoil if you're not careful.  But there are means of getting around it.  Hop can cap her needed offenses, allowing her to take Feint Attack on the left side to weaken it, setting up for Double Edge KO, which deals significantly less damage back to her.  With Hop having EX, Double Edge is a pretty sure KO with even mild chip damage, so chip really exists just to prevent recoil.  Hop's Potion isn't even strictly necessary.  Nanu's sync is particularly strong, and even with only -4 defense on Chandelure, he dealt enough to put it well into critical HP, which is Double Edge range.

Vs. Siebold Now to once again sing the merits of No Field Effects over Offenses +5.  Barrold eats so much shit when offenses are up, but with no weather change?  Easy street.  Initially, I wanted Erika to nuke, and that requires Sun.  But I realized...there is no reason to do that.  Barry/Erika is a fun comp when looking at powerhouse Sun setters like NC Leaf, but it's frankly terrible otherwise, they're far too slow.  What they can do, however, is push Sycamore to what I'm going to call "Bullshit range."  Sycamore needs for very little in terms of Barry's buffs, while Erika's Energy Ball offers special defense drops for further damage.  Following Barry's EX Support sync, Sycamore could casually toss out around 9k damage at base, with no concerns.  Erika, if she landed a special defense drop, suddenly produces well over 10k damage ranges.  I think his last shot on center hit for like 12k.  This was at +4 special attack, because I messed up Barry's actions and he died early.  EX Erika is also a treat.  Sure, she missed sync crit and also only had +4 Sp Atk, but hitting the Light Screen for 10k damage isn't bad.  Were I smarter or paying better attention, this would've been done on parameter 4, where the paralysis chance may have saved Barrold.  Oh well.

Vs. Drasna I was under the impression that boosted status meant boosted flinch rate.  I must be wrong, because Tate almost never hit a flinch.  I'm also gonna bitch out Giovanni a little: dude kinda sucks?  Like, I'm so happy to say that.  His DPS and sync aren't strictly bad, he has enough oomph behind attacks thanks to his ridiculous special attack.  But the multipliers being based on special defense debuffs puts him in a painfully awkward spot.  Lucian is pretty much a requirement.  When you do not have access to Lucian, you effectively do not have access to debuffs.  Which means...why use Giovanni when you can use someone who is bulkier, has better setup, costs nothing in gauge, and hits approximately twice as hard as his standard damage, in Caitlin?  God it feels good to say that.  I will praise MC Mesprit, though.  Dual Screens are ridiculously good, it survived so many repeated hits, and the boost to speed on its trainer move offsets Drasna's speed debuffing.  Absolutely love Mesprit.

Vs. Diantha Okay, here we go.  Finally, a Steel-weak stage.  BP Valerie was my favorite part of this update, and I haven't been able to use her on-type yet.  That said, Valerie is good, but not so good that I trust her to sweep a Steel stage with F2P partners.  So I brought Solgaleo, who...man, I think maybe I under-valued Solgaleo's grid expansion.  I know it's post BP Janine's EX sync, but 27k sync and 12k DPS?  Nonsense.  Absolute nonsense.  Valerie herself is no slouch either.  Iron Head's base damage is around 7.5k, which is entirely respectable.  With proper anticipation and use of swords dance, SEUN would put that in easy denial range.  As for Janine, I initially thought about Marley, who boosts team speed for easy selection of moves.  I wanted Team Sharp Entry too, to remove a trainer move from Valerie's rotation.  But Marley is very frail, and I realized that BP Janine can boost attack as well, and has evasion/speed boosting on trainer move, making her...frankly just better?  Even with just +1 gauge was never truly a problem.

Final Thoughts I feel like what types are F2P clearable has shifted weirdly.  Dark, Steel, and Ghost used to be types that were a nightmare.  Ghost at least had Giovanni's Shadow Ball, but that one took a hit when his sync no longer worked due to Standard Damage Reduction.  I feel like Dark is still a little rough because of Karen's recoil, but any single physical Dark addition with like Crunch from the Lodge would salvage it.

Yet in exchange...Psychic was the hardest clear.  Yeah, sure, Giovanni, but he kinda struggles with modern CS.  The survival is bad, and his damage isn't shattering records.  It feels like we don't have as many F2P options in some of the conventionally strongest types anymore.  It's strange to think about.

[youremyonlyhope]

I feel like I wasted my summer.

On paper I know I didn't. I worked for a month and a half at a place I've always wanted to work. I hung out with new friends more than I expected to. I hung out with old friends. I auditioned for a show and got a callback for the first time in my life (didn't get cast but that's fine). I finished a bunch of crochet and knitting projects.

I've even had nearly 2 weeks completely to myself because my parents are out of town. I basically became a hermit during that time. But the gig I thought I'd be working right now ended up falling through. I was happy at first to have nothing to do because April-July felt like it was full speed ahead with maybe 2 weeks of quiet in the middle. So having free time and not working for the last 6 or so weeks felt great.

But now that it's September, I feel so anxious. I have no gigs set up until October at the earliest unless something changes, so I have no income at the moment. My apartment is a mess and I'm overwhelmed since I need to tidy up at least a bit before my parents get back. My dishes are piling up because I get overwhelmed looking at them so I put it off, then I add more, then I get overwhelmed, then I put it off, rinse and repeat for over a week. I was supposed to go through a pile of old mail and I can't even look at it. I have plans the next two days so I NEED to clean up everything today, tomorrow night, or Monday. Or I could be a recluse and not do the plans tomorrow. I am honestly somewhat leaning that way. Though I know if I cancel to give myself more time to clean, I'll probably just sit in my apartment too anxious to even start and then feel even worse, and guilty for cancelling.

I LOVE autumn. I am really happy it's September. But September arriving reminds me that with summer ending, the free time doesn't feel as good. September has always been chaos month in my life because of school then college then my old job. Last year September was chaos because grandma was sick and I was going to Hawaii for my cousin's wedding and then I caught covid. This September is almost too calm. It's like it's empty.

I'm sure in a week or so when it starts getting cooler, I'll be glad again that I have this free time and probably take a billion long walks around and enjoy the fall air. But right now I am literally on the verge of an anxiety attack over dishes, recycling, and mail. Yay.

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Our weekend was primarily a logistics weekend. As in yes. We successfully moved out of the apartment on time but we are not fully moved in.

So yeah. Our living room's still pretty much a staging area for stuff that doesn't have a place to be yet. Mostly boxes and crates of my stuff, actually. Hard drives and books and a billion source videotapes from long ago summer camps.

We also still have that storage unit into which I unloaded a van's worth of stuff one day so I could drive back down to the apartment to load another van's worth of stuff.

We have an idea of what's in there, of course. But we don't really know. Not until we dive in there.

The upshot is that there are some things that've gone missing. Oh... they're somewhere among a number of different suspected locations. We just don't have everything where we intend for it to be.

Speaking of which, while we're trying to organize, we're also trying to divest and we're on the lookout to replace some of what we own with anything better suited to how we're now using the house. So OfferUp, CraigsList, and Facebook Marketplace are part of our daily routine as are trips to Habitat for Humanity, Value Village, and a number of GoodWills.

There are a lot of moving parts, is my point. And there's more motion in our days than usual.

With that in mind (and for awhile now) Kimmer uses a blank page notebook into which she sketches the furniture we're donating, the kind of furniture we're looking for and, on occasion, the kind of furniture needing to be built if custom made's the only way to go.

It's really a quite clever way to keep track of, you know, everything we're trying to accomplish.

On Saturday, we scored a blue framed glass cabinet for Kimmer's office from a fellow OfferUp user. Up to that point, she had one of our long hanging cabinets temped in there where it kept the office door from fully opening. At some point Kimmer'll paint over the blue with a combination of blue and green to better match the work she did on her grandfather's antique hutch.

Later that the day, we swung by our storage unit to pick up a couple almost black, dark brown single shelf hanging bookcases with vertical separators for my office. It's kind of a big deal for me... actually, it resolves a bottleneck in my own moving process because these bookcases are where I'm storing the most essential reference books I own. So once I get those shelves squared away, the rest of my organizing should follow easily.

That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. 😉

Those book cases, by the way, were as inconveniently placed in our storage unit as it was possible to be. Alllllllll the way in the back corner under other stuff. Which led to an impromptu reorganizing of the entire space fueled by Kimmer's Tetris-ing mastery.

Then today, Sunday, was kind of a repeat with drop offs at Value Village and GoodWill and a friend's house. That drop off at Value Village, by the way, included a quick walkthrough of the store that revealed yet another need, another piece of furniture sketched in Kimmer's notebook.

Now, just me looking at what she found at Value Village... I'm mystified. It's a desk. And we don't need a desk. We do need night stands, however, and if Kimmer were to slice out the section of table between the desk drawers...

Night stands is what you're pretty much left with. Pretty vintage-y looking ones, too.

So that happened. For about eight bucks. 😊

And so on.

Definitely definitely definitely we're making progress. We've gotta better idea on the night stands/headboard challenge that's been tripping us up last week. Everything's too much behind us. Kimmer's office is getting there with the new glass cabinet and the bed she made to look like a couch. There's more about the room that just belongs. My office is a little behind but still looks great. It's just all the books I've gotta place and some of what I already placed that is it isn't in need of donating.

The family room is basically done. The kitchen seems pretty done. At least there's nothing to obviously indicate that either room is not. The dining room is still basically storage. The living room is also basically storage although less so, especially since I cleared out a couple more crates of my stuff.

The weekend wasn't all logistics, thankfully. I got in an evening at The Rustic Cork in Lake Stevens where Linzy performed. Kimmer was home getting more charting done 'n done. Sunday we got to hang out a little with our friends Ben and Hilary and their kids for a lovely and fun break in all our moving and organizing. We had home-made pizzas crafted to perfection both days. And we got in a coupla episodes of Madame Secretary because we can't keep watching all eight episodes of The Diplomat season 1. Well, we can. But we've gone through season 1 three times in a row now. So we should at least try to watch something new.

😁

[venomous--fics]

Anon Requested: Omg wait can i request a fic where reader feels like they aren’t good enough for eddie and venom so reader breaks up with them and eddies sad and just a lot of angst (BUT happy ending) if not thats okay !

A/n: Day 5!! I'm think about just extending the weekathon to the entire month! Not too sure yet, but I should decide quickly huh!! I just think it'd be fun to do something like that. Maybe get more and more festive along the way. What do you think?

Song: Halley's Comet by Billie Eilish

"So, that's just it? You're just gonna up and leave and not tell us why?"

He wanted to sound mad, but his voice gave it all away. You couldn't stand the thought of what you were doing to them both. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at them as you left. You didn't even bother to grab your things. You just left emptyhanded.

Subconsciously, maybe you knew you'd find your way back eventually. But...Not now.

The weight of the world began to crush you with every step you took away from their place. You knew they were watching you from the window. If you had to leave, they'd at least make sure you'd stay safe.

It all felt like a cruel punchline to an unfunny joke. How could you be such a fool to think you'd be good for them? They....They were a protector. A lethal one, but still a protector. They helped people and saved the world from every threat imaginable. You sometimes couldn't even drag yourself out of bed.

It didn't seem fair to drag them down like that. They deserved better. They deserved the world, and you just couldn't give them that. Someday they'd find someone who would.

That night was spent alone on a friend's spare guest bed. The world was so quiet. There were no streetlights beaming into your room. There was no more sounds of late night traffic or the people talking and walking as they passed under your shared window.

There was no more fighting Venom for the comforter because he'd purposely hog it just to get your attention. It always worked. There wasn't the usually jokes about forgetting to set your alarms for the work morning ahead.

You simply set your alarm and laid down. The world seemed so much colder and emptier. It didn't seem fun and bright anymore. The bed felt much more spacious now.. The pillows felt too squishy and new. The sheets looked nothing like his.

Staring at the wall wasn't going to put you to sleep any faster, so you rolled over and clamped your eyes shut. You willed yourself to not cry.

The tv kept repeating the same old stuff. Robbery after robbery. Someone got shot. A car accident. Oh, it's going to rain tomorrow.

We should be fixing that..

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore."

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore either, V."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Normally there'd be some form of a pep talk from you, but now.. Your spot on the couch was empty. All that was there to suggest that you even existed was your favorite throw pillow.

With hesitation, Eddie grabbed the pillow and held it in his lap. It still looked brand new, and that's simply because you always knew how to take care of things. Nothing of yours ever really got broken or misplaced..And you always knew just how to handle things.

"I miss them."

A thought they shared in common. It's felt like months, but it's only been a couple of weeks. Your things were still occupying space here. It was almost torturous having to look at them each day and know that you weren't going to come home.

It was that thought that broke them both. They curled up on the couch, sad and defeated. The world was incomplete because you weren't here to make ti better. A rough day at work? You'd say, "Oh, don't worry." as you made some hot coco to relax with. Emotions getting out of control? You were always there with ways to fix them.

Did they take you for granted? Did they forget to cherish you? Did they do something wrong? Everyone always told them that they were just screwups who ruined everything, so maybe they just fucked it up again.

Maybe they'd learn to live with it. Just not today.

It's just not home anymore. Home is where you were.

The rain was awfully heavy today. But you were thankful. Today was hitting you harder than the last few. You were stumbling down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your face. Nothing seemed to hold any meaning anymore. You'd pass by Mrs. Chen's shop, and normally you'd stop by there to get Eddie and V a snack or two. But now, you simply keep walking.

Today you just let your body walk. To where? Wherever you felt like you needed to go. You were so tired, and so worn down. That only help cement in the fact that you just... You were an absolute nobody. Who could love a nobody?

If only you were born gifted with the brains, the talents or even the powers. Maybe you'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see yourself as more. Maybe if you felt like you held any importance to anyone, you'd find a reason to stick around anywhere, with anyone.

Despite wanted to be more to literally anyone, all you could think is being better for them. They meant so much, no, no, they mean so much to you. It felt so dumb and childish to be so hung up on two of the goofiest creatures on this planet. You couldn't lie to anyone. You were hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock, a man who truly was a breed of his own. And you were in love with Venom, an alien with a heart bigger than his stomach but he's too embarrassed to say it.

You don't want to love them anymore. Because you still believe it was better to not be with them.

You slumped against a light post and wiped your eyes. You tried everything to stop the tears from flowing, but that only made them multiply. You'd scold yourself if you had the energy.

The world really did begin to feel more and more empty. People seemed to walk pass and not even give you a second glance. None of them cared, and to be honest, neither did you. Normally you never noticed other people, because you'd be so wrapped up in whatever it was you and Eddie, and yes, Venom too, were doing.

But they aren't here anymore. You were back to where you started. Alone and afraid of what the world had in store. You used to wake up knowing what you'd be doing...But now you weren't sure.

You remained leaned against the streetlight for an eternity. The sun had set and the moon had risen, yet you remained put. Everything was cold now. The rain had subsided, but the light continued to drip down on you, but even then, you didn't have the willpower to move.

It's better to be cold than to have never been warm, right? That is how the saying goes...Right?

You sniffled, waiting for the next set of drops to hit your head, but they never did. You slowly looked up and saw someone's hands holding up a jacket. They looked like they were doing their best to hold it up like an umbrella, and without touching you. You recognized the jacket immediately, even just from seeing the inside of it. You'd worn it so many times.

You stood up straight and turned around, being greeted with the sight of Eddie. He looked just as tired as you, and just as lost. He looked like he had a million things to say, but it seems like the cat had his tongue.

The universe was giving you a chance. For some reason.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing to spill out of your mouth.

"We're sorry, too."

"You didn- It was me. I was.." You took a step back from under the jacket, but it seems like Venom wasn't having any of that. He moved Eddie's body for him, this time, draping the jacket on your shoulders.

You gently crossed your arms and held them close, appreciating the gesture now.

"You can leave now. If you want." Eddie moved back a little, "We just saw that you were cold.."

"I don't want to go." you gripped onto the jacket, trying to fight the new wave of tears threatening to come out, "I just.. I had to because I felt like I wasn't good enough."

You were about to ramble on when Eddie cut you off, "That's why you left?"

"I'm sorry." You felt like you could just curl up and die on the sidewalk.

You looked down, staring at the cracks that littered the walkway. You'd find someway to make this poetic.

Two hands, one human and the other very much not, wrapped themselves around you as they pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Did we make you feel that way?"

The way Eddie's voice cracked made your arms go limp at your sides.

"No. I made myself feel that way- But I can't help it. You guys do so much good and I-"

"We love you."

The hug got tighter, "We used to do what we did because it was the right thing to do. But then we met you and it all changed. It seems so cliche to say that, but...It's true."

"You're just saying that."

"We adore you. We promised to do everything we can to make sure we leave this world a better place for you."

Your hands shook as your fought with yourself. You wanted to hold them just as close as they were holding you, but you felt-

"I don't deserve this.."

Unworthy.

In typical Brock fashion, and never knowing how to truly deal with his emotions, Eddie clung to you, almost pleading, "Would you just listen to what we're saying."

"You can't love me."

"Why the hell not? Huh? Whose going to stop us?"

"Nobody's going to stop us."

"Why is it me. Out of all the worthy people, why me?"

"You're such a good person. I know you don't see that..But you're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Certainly the nicest I've met..."

Every last word you wanted to yell out into the night sky just vanished from your mind. You wrapped your arms around Eddie and squeezed as hard as you could.

"How many times do we have to say it to make you believe it?"

"I'll say it a billion times," Eddie said, "Most guys would quit at a million but me? I don't know when to quit."

"It's true. He doesn't. But if saying it a billion times gets you to come home, then I'd do it a million more than him."

"I," You started, taking in a deep shaky breath, "I wanna go home regardless."

"We can talk more there if you're comfortable."

"With coco."

"I would like that."

The walk home was a talkative one.

Eddie's hand held yours tightly, but not too tight. He was so afraid that if he didn't hold it firmly enough, you'd simply slip away again. He was sure as hell not letting that happen again.

The apartment looked the exact same as when you left. You were so surprised by that. Normally they'd be a mess if you were gone for too long, and the apartment would reflect that.

"It all looks the same."

"Oh. Yeah." Eddie busied himself with fetching the hot chocolate ingredients.

"We couldn't bring ourselves to ruin your hard work...Or move your things." For the first time, Venom seemed sad.

They both seemed tired. You wanted to feel bad, knowing that they felt that way because of you. But knowing that they loved you meant that they felt bad, not because of you, but because you were gone.

Without thinking, your hand reached out and grabbed Eddie's arm, startling him a little.

"Can we go lay down for a little bit.." you asked quietly, "I think we all need a little rest."

Relief washed over him as he set down the cups and lead the way to the bedroom. There was no more words as you three crashed onto the mattress. Venom used a small tendril to turn the lamp off and pull you closer to Eddie.

"Are you okay with loving a nobody like me?" you asked as you watched him shut his eyes.

"Are you okay with loving two nobodies?"

"We are all losers."

Venom pulled a blanket over you and Eddie, going so far as to fluff the pillows under your heads.

"And that's okay. I love us the way we all are."

You yawned for the first time in ages as your eyes closed, "I love us too."

There was that familiar light coming through the window. And there was the sounds of the cars and the people. The world felt just right and you were home. You moved closer to Eddie and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, and his arms were quick to wrap around you.

You felt a soft tendril wrap around your arm.

"I know what you're feeling and what you're thinking." His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, "But you are more than enough for us. We don't say it, but sometimes we feel the same way. You could certainly do better than us. But.."

The tendril tighten a little, but not enough to really do much.

"You left and we realized...We don't know what to do without you. We didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It felt pointless."

You turned your head to look at your arm, seeing two small white eyes staring at you with a mixture of sadness and adoration.

"I know I'm not good with these human emotions..I might never be good with them, but..I know that I love you. And Eddie loves you too. We always try our best to show you..But you are truly all we need to be happy in this life."

You were a bit shocked with how much Venom had to say. Most of the time, he tried to use the least amount of words possible to get his point across, so you knew that he meant it.

"You both complete me, and for once, I finally have the courage to say it, because I don't know when I'll get the chance to say it again."

You smiled softly at him, and moved your arm in a way where you could place a soft kiss onto the top of his tiny little worm head.

"I won't leave again. I promise we can talk about it first."

"Talking is good."

"I love you, V."

"I love you too." He seemed to pause as he shot a glance up to Eddie, just to make sure he was still asleep, "More than that guy."

"Not possible." Eddie groaned, adjusting a little.

You smiled a little as you curled up under the blanket and actually shut your eyes for good for the night. Finally, a good night's rest. You still had doubts, maybe not many and none as big and frightening as before, but that was normal.

Not everything in life is a given or a certainty. You're not promised to tomorrow and it's not a give that you'll be a millionaire. But where you are now is where you're supposed to be. Don't doubt it. The two halves of your heart will quite literally walk to the ends of the universe just to see you smile, and that's more than enough for you.

[snackhobi]

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested.  It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose  at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.) 

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.) 

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist. 

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle. 

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.) 

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back. 

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power. 

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it. 

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

 “Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall. 

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered. 

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond. 

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it. 

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron. 

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi. 

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner.  There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.  

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway. 

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out. 

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot. 

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire. 

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway. 

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary. 

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you. 

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else. 

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it. 

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright. 

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you. 

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.) 

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung. 

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth. 

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to. 

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up. 

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say. 

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really. 

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists. 

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.” 

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor. 

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed. 

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad. 

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee. 

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is. 

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

 “Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say. 

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all. 

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice. 

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity. 

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think. 

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand. 

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?” 

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say. 

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove

[momentsbeforemass]

What motivates you?

(by request, my homily from Sunday)

I’d like to talk with you today about what motivates you.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus warns His followers not to be terrified, to not live in fear. Why?

In Jesus’ time, Roman-occupied Judea was a bomb. Waiting to explode.

The Jewish people were looking for the next King David, the next Judah the Maccabee to lead a rebellion against Rome. All they needed was someone to rally them and the revolution would be on.

Jesus knows what’s coming their way. So does everyone else. It’s that obvious. And they have a lot of reasons to live in fear.

Because it’s going to get worse. A lot worse. They will get their rebellion against Rome. And it will end horribly – one hundred thousand people will die and the Temple itself will be destroyed – when Rome has finally had enough.

In the face of that, Jesus doesn’t tell them to stockpile weapons or pack a bug out bag. He doesn’t tell them to get a second passport. Instead, Jesus tells them – not to live in fear.

And you’re thinking, “Wasn’t the Temple was destroyed in 70 AD? The last time I checked, we were a few years past that. Thanks for the history lesson. But this doesn’t really apply to me.”

Actually, the Church Fathers like to point out that what Jesus is telling people to not be terrified by – is pretty normal stuff.

Jesus’ list of “wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famine, plagues?” As St. Augustine puts it, this is the “common condition of nations.”

And he’s right. Look at the news. There’s a war in Ukraine. There are insurrections in Hong Kong and Iran. In the last few weeks we’ve had major earthquakes in Indonesia, the Philippines, Mexico, Guatemala, and elsewhere.

Closer to home, the drought that’s drying up the Mississippi is already driving up food prices and will get even worse if we don’t have a really wet winter. And for plagues? We all know the answer to that one.

Which means that Jesus’ warning doesn’t have an expiration date. So what exactly is Jesus trying to tell us?

Jesus is trying to tell us to be careful about what we focus on, about what we let in. Because if we focus on the things that terrify us, if we let in things that fill us with fear, that’s what will motivate us. And we will be deceived.

As you know, there are people who are happy to deceive us. There are multi-billion-dollar businesses built on deceiving us. If you and I live in fear? We will be easy to deceive.

With so many people in the business of selling fear – and anger, which is just a secondary emotion that grows out of fear. With so many people mindlessly repeating that stuff on social media, it’s hard for us not to be afraid.

Is there anything you and I can do? How do we respond?

We respond by choosing what we let in. By being intentional about what gets into us – to motivate us.

And it starts by choosing to let in the simple, basic baptismal call of every Christian. To reflect the love of Christ poured out for us. The love that our hearts are filled with. The love that keeps our hearts beating.

To let that love motivate us, in everything that we do.

What does that even mean? It means to be intentional about what you let in. To recognize that what you let into you - will become what motivates you. And to choose only those things that will motivate you to be who God made you to be.

Starting with the love of Christ. And coming back to the love of Christ. Over and over. Day by day. Hour by hour.

Judging everything else you let in by the love of Christ, and your high calling to reflect the love of Christ. And intentionally rejecting anything that does not reflect the Love that made you.

What does that look like in practice?

One of the people it looks like is St. Frances Xavier Cabrini. Mother Cabrini.

And you’re thinking, “That’s an impossible standard. She founded the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart. She started 67 different institutions – schools, hospitals, orphanages – only the great saints do stuff like that.”

Before she was a saint. Before she ever founded anything. Before she was Mother Cabrini. Before she was a nun.

She was Maria Francesca Cabrini. The youngest of 13 children on a small farm in northern Italy.

She was inspired by the sisters who taught her at the little school in her village. So she studied to become a grade school teacher and got her teaching certificate.

But she didn’t start out with the grand and the glorious. Actually, she didn’t even get to start out teaching third graders full-time.

She had to balance her career with her parents’ failing health. So she worked part-time as a substitute teacher, while she took care of her mom and dad.

The key to it all – and why Maria became who she became – is how she did it.

She didn’t do it resentfully, begrudging her parents for holding back, from keeping her from being a teacher. She didn’t do it in fear, wondering what would happen to her after her parents died.

She let herself be motivated by the love of Christ poured out for her, the same love that’s poured out for you and for me.

She let herself be motivated by the love that her heart was filled with, the same love that your heart and my heart is filled with.

What separates Maria from the rest of us, why she eventually became Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini, is that she worked to keep her focus on the love of Christ.

This wasn’t a one and done for her. She kept coming back to the love of Christ in prayer. Over and over. Day by day. Hour by hour.

Hers was not a breakthrough followed by perfection but a lifetime of dogged persistence. Coming back to God again and again. Because of that, God moved in her and through her to do all of the things that we think of, when we think of her as a saint.

What separates Maria from the rest of us, is that she judged everything else that she let in by the love of Christ, and by her high calling to reflect the love of Christ. She intentionally rejected anything that did not reflect the Love that made her.

We see it in one of the prayers that she composed for herself, rejecting by name the things in her that did not reflect that Love. It goes like this:

Fortify me with the grace of Your Holy Spirit and give Your peace to my soul that I may be free from all needless anxiety, solicitude and worry. Help me to desire always that which is pleasing and acceptable to You so that Your will may be my will. Amen.

That is how you and I do it.

Take this prayer of Mother Cabrini. Go to the first sentence of her prayer, to the underlined words. Those are the things that Mother Cabrini saw in herself that did not reflect the love of Christ.

Replace hers with yours. Instead of anxiety and worry, maybe yours are anger or fear, maybe doubt or loneliness, maybe envy or pride.

You don’t have to tell anyone, this is between you and God. But do it.

Whatever they are, name the things in you that do not reflect the love of Christ. Name the things in you that do not reflect your high calling to reflect the love of Christ.

Then pray this prayer, your version of her prayer. Over and over. Day by day. Hour by hour.

And watch as God moves in you and through you in ways you would never imagine.

Sunday’s Readings

[myherowritings]

PART 4. HOW THE RICH SUCK THEIR OWN DICKS

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.9k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. enji makes an appearance bleh, enji being classist, enji...ew, okay i swear most of the chapter is shouto and y/n being cute though 

A/N. ngl i have genshin brainrot real bad at the moment but i still have motivation for ceo!shouto and ceo!shouto only u.u there are only 7 parts to this series so we’re at the halfway mark already AHHH i hope u enjoy reading and lmk what u think!! :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

Shouto’s day went from good to bad faster than it took to pull an espresso. 

It started off with a good morning text from you and having a brief, but pleasant, interaction at your work. Actually, the past few weeks have been going along a similar routine that he found himself settling into all too comfortably. You even upheld your promise of stealing him away one weekend to walk around the park, get food, and just have time to relax and be happy for once. 

Getting to be in your presence almost daily became so normalized in his life that even some of his employees heard about the cute barista with the best pastries. Yet, although he saw you often, he found himself wanting to talk to you more and more.

But for now, Shouto told himself to settle with starting the mornings off with you. They were the best mornings he’s had in a while and he didn’t want to sound ungrateful. 

Today, however, went sour fast after he heard his father was coming up to the top floor for a meeting with him. He didn’t find the idea of Enji visiting to be the most abhorrent thing, but the moment his father opened his mouth, Shouto quickly took that back. 

As expected, his father reminded him about the annual charity gala Todoroki Enterprises was expected to attend. Handfuls of galas ran through the year, but the once hosted by Naruhata Industries under the guise of raising money and awareness for the charities of choice.

In theory, a charity gala ball sounded humanitarian and a way for the upper class to give back, but in reality, most of the funds collected didn’t go to the actual charities, instead they went to paying for the venue, live bands, entertainment, the most expensive catering, decorations, and more. What presented itself as a charitable event in the eyes of the public was really a way rich people could flaunt their wealth and feel good about themselves for doing absolutely nothing to benefit society. A way for the rich to suck their own dicks, if you would. 

Shouto absolutely hated it. 

It was also a press opportunity and, in his father’s eyes, a way to gain public favor for the Todoroki business. Today, Enji attempted to tell him that bringing a date that fit the mold of high society was the best way for him to establish rapport through media coverage. Apparently, the image news outlets have placed on Shouto were either a heartbreaker and playboy with no care for other’s emotions, or a monotonous stoic who seemed like a robot with no care for other’s emotions.

In either cases, there seemed to be a theme of Shouto not caring for others. 

He sighed. 

“You can’t keep that image, Shouto,” said Enji with his arms folded across his chest. “If the media sees you with someone—a nice girl with a good upbringing—then your likeability will increase tenfold. If there’s no one you like, I’ll have to set up a date for you.”

For a while, he was torn between telling his dad to fuck off and trying to do as he said to keep peace within the family. But then, an image of you popped into his head.

“Actually, there is someone I like.” 

Enji narrowed his eyes. “Oh? An educated girl with wealthy parents?”

“There’s someone I like,” he simply repeated, the tone in his voice growing cold. 

He didn’t know anything about your upbringing or family nor did he exactly care. Shouto didn’t want to bring a date to the dumb gala, but if he had to, he would want it to be you. Only if you agreed, of course. But if you weren’t willing, then he had to face the facts that his father would most likely force a date of his own choosing upon Shouto. 

“That’s good you like someone, son,” Enji said through his teeth, “but we have to make sure it’s not some sort of...loose woman. That’d be even worse publicity—”

“I like someone and if you really cared about my happiness like you said you did, that’d be enough.”

There was a tense silence in the air. Shouto didn’t have enough fingers to count the number of times Enji had told him and his siblings that he would try to be a better dad. A caring dad who only wanted what was best for his children. A better husband for Rei. A better example for the public. The first few times, Shouto believed it. But Enji said the same things over and over again with no lasting change and Shouto was just fed up. 

After hearing the same lie told to him over and over again, it seemed to lose its weight. He seemed to lose his hope in his father ever changing.

Still, Shouto had to deal with him for as long as he lived. That much he knew as a son living in this society. 

But he hoped Enji at least had enough guilt to let him have this.

“Fine.”

Shouto blinked in surprise. 

Enji stated, “If you think your date can help your public image and not be a complete embarrassment to the business, you can bring them.”

That was the closest thing to approval Shouto would get today. He nodded and listened along to whatever else his father had to say, the only thing actually on his mind was thinking about how he would ask you out on a date to some stuffy gala. And hope that you’d say yes.

— ✩ —

“Wait, so, let me get this straight— You’re the CEO of Todoroki Enterprises and even after almost two months of knowing you, I had no clue?”

He inclined his head, looking solemn. “Yes, I’m sorry. Are you upset with me for not telling you sooner?” 

Initial shock aside, you couldn’t say that you were too surprised at the revelation. You knew Shouto was wealthy and probably in some high-up position in the business industry, but you never knew to what extent. A CEO? That had to be the highest rank in a company! And a company as well known as Todoroki Enterprises? 

The thought made you a little nervous. The guy you slowly befriended over the course of short cafe visits and silly texts was Mr. Todoroki? Or worse— The guy you stole away from doing work for a whole weekend was someone as busy as a CEO? You internally groaned. That had to be against laws of the universe or something. 

“I’m not upset, no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I just...can’t believe it I guess.” Eyes widening, you were quick to amend your words. “Well, I can believe it. You seem very intelligent and well-put together and, uh, rich! But I guess I just didn’t think a CEO would be so funny and kind.” You winced. “Oh no, is that mean to say?”

“I don’t think it’s mean.” He shrugged. “You’re right to say most people in this field aren’t known for their delightful temperaments.” 

You absentmindedly drummed your finger against your thigh, trying to process this new information. “So you’re Todoroki Shouto...and you want me to be your date to the Naruhata Charity Ball?” 

“Yeah. I know it’s a huge favor to ask, and I promise you can say no if you choose,” said Shouto in earnest. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to agree.” 

With a hum, you stretched your legs out under the table before crossing one over the other again. It was a Saturday afternoon where you had no work and Shouto managed to escape from his for a few hours of the day. You took him to your favorite ice cream place nearby and the two of you ate at a dining area outside the establishment. 

Just a mundane day as two friends hanging out with each other where you found out one of those friends was the chief executive officer of a billion dollar business headquartered in Japan. 

Totally normal, everyday occurrences, obviously. 

“And you need a date for this event?” you asked. In all honesty, you would be more than happy if Shouto asked you out on a date. He was fun and you enjoyed getting to know him. But these particular circumstances made you a tad bit more nervous.

“I normally wouldn’t need to bring one, but my father insists it’d help my public image and in turn the image of the company.” With a pinched look on his face, he took a bite of his ice cream. “In other words I bring a date or he picks one for me.” 

You weren’t the most caught up on super rich people drama, but it was almost infamous how estranged the Todoroki family was. Again, you didn’t know much but you did know enough to say that Todoroki Enji seemed like a Class A asshole. If you could help Shouto out with his weird dilemma, you saw no reason not to. 

“So this charita gala is like where they have those live auctions and silent auctions and get tipsy on fancy wine and champagne for hours right?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah. Have you attended one?” 

“Not quite,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I’ve volunteered at one in school though. As one of those runners? It was fun. I got a bunch of those tiny complimentary candies!” Your mouth watered at the memory. “What kind of drug were in those candies? I’ve never had candy so good before!”

“The tiny, circular candies with the excessively big wrapper? The fruity ones?”

You shot up in your seat, excited he knew what you were talking about. “Yes! That’s the one!” 

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “I always see those at these types of events.”

“So… The candy will be there at the gala you want me to accompany you to?” 

“Most likely.”

“Can I take a bunch of those from candies there…?” you asked with an optimistic grin.

“I’ll be your accomplice in sneaking them out.”

“It’s a date!” you said before Shouto could get another word out. 

You’d be reunited with those yummy, fancy candies you’ve been separated from for far too long. What other reason did you need to agree? 

With a determined look on your face, you held your hand out for Shouto to shake to seal the deal. 

He blinked. “Wait. Did you want to discuss it some more? Maybe have a few days to think it through? I’m grateful, of course, but I don’t want you regretting anything.”

“No. I won’t regret it. I’d do anything to taste those candies again.”

Shouto looked unsure what to say. “Isn’t there some parable warning people not to be bribed by candy?”

“Not to take candy from a baby?”

“No. Not that one.”

“That’s the only one I know.”

“Never mind then.” 

The two of you exchanged confused looks before letting out fits of laughter. You weren’t sure if either of you knew exactly what the other was laughing at, but the moment was an enjoyable one nonetheless. 

“Yet another reason to bring me to that fancy event— I’ll make sure you’re entertained all the way through,” you playfully bragged, smoothing down the front of your shirt. 

“The event will definitely be more bearable with you there.” He licked a small bit of his ice cream from his pink spoon, making a sound of approval. “But you can change your mind about coming at any time, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you said, holding a pinky out. “Pinky promise.”

With what seemed like a bashful expression on his face, Shouto extended his own pinky to interlock yours. You sealed it with a kiss and a heart, like you were a kid again. 

“Now, am I supposed to be in love with you at the gala?” you asked nonchalantly, finishing off your last bite of ice cream. He offered you a spoonful of his and you tried not to grow too flustered at Shouto feeding you his dessert. You murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

He gave you a small smile. “You’re welcome. As for being in love… I don’t think that’s necessary. Just pretend you like being around me, I think.”

Under the table, you nudged his shoe with yours, pulling a face. “I don’t have to pretend about that, silly.” 

“Ah, well,” he paused, offering you another spoonful of ice cream, “I don’t either.”

“I’m glad.” Then, “Is this strawberry? I was never a big strawberry ice cream fan but for some reason this tastes so good.” 

You ignored the nagging voice in your head that said maybe it wasn’t so much the ice cream flavor but who you were enjoying it with. 

The two of you finished his dessert in peace and after cleaning up the area with a napkin, Shouto turned to you with an intent look on his face.

“Before the gala, would you mind if I talk you shopping so you could pick out what to wear?” he asked. “I would pay of course— It’s the least I could do to say thank you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me! You’re my friend and I want to help.” You thought about it for a moment. “And get the candy.”

“Anything for the candy.”

“Exactly,” you said in complete seriousness. “But I wouldn’t mind going shopping with you. You could help me decide what to wear! I’m not exactly sure how to dress for an event as fancy as this.”

“You could wear anything to the event and still look amazing.” His words were ones of flattery but his tone sounded completely genuine. 

Heat rose to your cheeks at the compliment. “Look who’s talking— You’re practically runway ready no matter what time of day.”

“I’ve never walked a runway before.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation of your words. Cute. “Me neither.”

He looked confused at why you were grinning, but it still brought a smile to his own lips.

By now the sun had begun to set and Shouto was walking you to the train to see you off before you went home.

“Can I pick you up next weekend in the morning?” he said. “So we can get your outfit for the gala?”

“Sure! I’ll text you my address.” 

He nodded in contentment. “And again, you don’t have to worry about any costs.”

“Is this why my friends have called you a sugar daddy?” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked down the street, side-by-side. “But thank you. Shopping will be fun— We can even match colors!” 

“Mn.” He looked between the both of you, as if trying to picture what colors would complement each other. 

You crossed the sidewalk in a comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery by Shouto’s side. A few times, you even felt his knuckles brush against yours and you had the undeniable urge to hold his hand. Would that be weird? you asked yourself before deciding against it. 

Just because he asked you to be his date for the Naruhata Charity Ball didn’t mean he actually liked you, right? It was just a favor from a friend to a friend.

Something about that though made your stomach unsettled. Maybe part of you wanted it to be a real date— Wanted this to be a real date. 

“So I won’t be seeing you tomorrow,” you said after a moment’s silence, trying not to look too dejected. 

You knew he’d still text good morning and good night and ask you random things throughout the day (all of which you found really endearing, by the way), but it was still different from seeing him in person. Even though your time together in the morning was small, they still were enough to make your day. The thought of your waking hours being so entwined made you nervous, but for some reason it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it was sort of...nice. 

“I’ll see you Monday morning, right?” you asked hopefully, though you were already fairly certain of the answer.

Shouto nodded. “Of course. It’s already marked on my calendar.”

“Ever the flatterer, hmm?” 

“Not flattery, just the truth.” He pulled his phone out and showed you his (rather packed) calendar app. To your surprise, a little reminder that said ‘See Y/N :)’ was marked on his Monday schedule. 

Unable to stop the beam from spreading across your lips, you hid your face in your hands. Gosh— Did he have to be so cute? He was making it harder and harder to only like him as a friend. And even now, you weren’t sure if you liked him only as a friend.

But you pushed those thoughts away.

That was something to deal with at a later time.

When you reached the train station you normally took home, you turned to Shouto, giving him a big hug. He was tall and warm. You could feel his lean muscles through his button-down shirt as you rested your head against his chest and arms around his waist. 

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you again soon.”

After a pause, he gave you a hug back, hands rubbing hesitant circles on your back in a way that made you smile. “Text me when you get home safe,” he said as you both reluctantly released each other from an embrace.

“I will,” you promised. “You do the same! Later, Shouto!” 

And with that, you waved goodbye and boarded the train, unable to shake the unwavering grin on your face all the way home.

a/n: when shouto started feeding y/n spoonfuls of his ice cream i cried (Ｔ▽Ｔ) that’s so cUTE OF HIM LIKE PLS SIR STOP BEFORE I FALL MORE IN LOVE WITH U !! >:O he’s such a sweetheart ahhhh,, i hope all the fluff made up for the brief appearance of endeavor ಠ╭╮ಠ  FHDJKF 

what to expect in the next part:

shopping for the gala time !! 

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~ part 2

oh my, y/n has to try on dresses? oh my, it’d be a shame if they needed help putting it on :o *fake gasp* 

yeah things get just a lil steamy but shh

[venusiangguk]

gold rush pt. 2 | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, v little plot, smut, kinda fluffy, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 8.9k

>>warnings: romantic ass eating 😐, oral (m), fingering (m/f), butt stuff but it’s SEXY, explicit sex, crying, jungkook likes to be praised, soft koo, dom reader... but like soft, spitting in mouth, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, this is so soft, that good smut, literally like 7.5k of filth

>>notes: hot girls eat ass!! oc is a hot girl!! this involves butt stuff (just mouth and fingers, no pegging 😔), so if that isn’t ur cup of tea just read pt 1 again lol, i separated it this way in case there were people who weren’t down to go down... iykyk. but with that said, i encourage u to open ur eyes and ur mind and give this a chance 🤩

>>summary: jk finally lets you eat his ass 😁👍🏻

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

It’s day 6 of trying to get Jeongguk to let you eat his ass. It’s getting hard to function, and the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it used to. The week has been a rough one, filled with clenched butt cheeks, and fewer blow jobs than normal. You just can’t seem to stop yourself from wandering south when you’re down there, so you’ve lost the privilege. Constantly met with Jeongguk’s laughter filled eyes when he pulls you up to where you’re supposed to be, and a “You should not want to eat my ass this bad.”

He just doesn’t understand.

Currently you’re sat in the cafeteria with your friends, your eyes consistently roaming to a table across the large room. He’s laughing at something and his hands are clapping in front of him as he throws his head back. You rest your head on your arms, pouting, and you breathe a deep and miserable sigh.

“Alright y/n what the fuck?” Your friend Yuna says, flicking your cheeks.

Her speaking up causes a few of your other girlfriends at the table to direct their attention towards you. “Yeah, you’ve been like... pouty for the last few days. What’s going on?” Cho questions as well.

You debate keeping the silly internal struggle to yourself before giving in and stating plainly, “Gguk won’t let me eat his ass.” You blow absently at a piece of hair that falls into your face, eyes crossing as you look at it. Next to you, Jiwoo chokes on the zero cal drink that she’s been sipping.

Yuna stares at you blankly for a moment before recovering. “That’s... well that’s a predicament.” She hums in thought. “Does he actually not want to or is he just being shy and stubborn?”

“Second one.” You say. You’ve known your boyfriend for years and you’ve definitely learned how to tell when he’s being serious and when he’s just being stubborn. If you really thought he wasn’t about it you would have dropped it. But you know Jeongguk’s just being difficult because he thinks it’s funny to make you pine, and actually has at least some curiosity about the act. He just won’t admit it.

“Minjun was the same way,” Cho nods in solidarity. “But he likes it now.”

“How’d you get him to change his mind?” You ask perking up. A beacon of hope.

“We watched porn of it together.”

“That’s how I discovered it!” You gasp.

You pull your phone out to text your boyfriend.

you:

minjun let’s cho eat his ass 🥺

You watch Jeongguk from across the room and see the moment he receives the text. He searches the lunch room before his eyes land on yours and he let’s out an incredulous harsh laugh, before shaking his head slightly to himself. You glance at your phone and see the text bubble appear in your messages.

koo 🥴:

maybe he’ll let you eat it too 🥺

You gape at your phone and look at your boyfriend only to see him talking to his friends again. He gives you a side glance and you see his smile grow bigger as he tries to ignore you.

~~~

Jeongguk’s sitting at his lunch table picking at the food in front of him listening as Jimin rambles about the not-so-great grade he got on his latest science test. “Why the fuck do I need to know that the sun will make it too hot for life to exist on earth in a couple billion years? Not only will I be dead, but that is just anxiety inducing.”

His phone that’s vibrating on the table catches his attention, a picture message from you on the home screen. He gets a little excited at the sheer potential that a picture message has and opens it eagerly. Sure the chances of getting a titty pic when it’s mid-day and you’re both in the middle of a lunch cafeteria are small... but they are never zero.

When he opens the message and sees the picture, he laughs loudly before clapping his hand over his mouth to quiet himself.

baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

He’s about to respond when Taehyung says, “Alright, you can’t keep laughing at your phone and not tell us what’s so funny.”

Jeongguk looks at the couple in front of him a trace of a smile still lingers on his lips. He shows them what you sent. “Y/n wants to eat my ass so bad.” He laughs to himself, going back to his phone.

“Are you not letting her?” Jimin asks.

Jeongguk sets his phone to the side before he gets to respond. It’s clear his friends are ready to have a conversation about it. “I don’t think so.”

Jimin and Taehyung look at each other and smirk. “Why not? It feels really good.”

He looks between them silently before asking, “You’ve done it?” He receives two nods.

“This one’s a real ass-muncher.” Taehyung says jerking a thumb at his boyfriend. Jimin swats at him.

“He says like that like its a bad thing and like he doesn’t cum from just my mouth and my fingers.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Jeongguk tenses and turns a little red. A little tremor of heat coursing through his body at the thought of feeling so good that he could cum without even having a hand around himself. “Just from that? No dick touching? Is that even possible?”

“Oh to be straight and oblivious to the wonders of butt stuff.” Jimin pouts at him like he feels bad for him.

Taehyung on the other hand is a bit more helpful. He pops a fry in his mouth and talks with his mouth full, “It’s possible. We have like a button in our ass that’s like... magic. You know what a prostate is right?”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Obviously.”

“Okay well let her put her fingers and tongue in your ass then, if you know so much about it. Have you eaten hers?”

“Yeah I’ve had my tongue in every crevice of that girls body.” He’s nodding and smiling like he’s proud. He glances at you, and he sees you huddled next to your friend, looking closely at something on her phone, your long hair falling like a curtain over your shoulder, some pooling on the table. You look so pretty. You feel his stare, and look at him. Your smile is soft, and your lips pucker in a little kiss. Chuu.

“Right,” Jimin says bringing Jeongguk back to the topic at hand, “Well if she let you, and you’re open to it you should let her... like it will actually feel better for you than it probably did for her.” Jeongguk looks like he’s about to defend his honor and sex skills, before Jimin cuts him off, “Not saying you didn’t do it right or whatever. It’s just that guys are like programmed to like it... like biologically or- something.”

“Or something.” Jeongguk repeats.

“Why don’t you want to in the first place? Is it because you think it’s gay?” Taehyung asks laughing, knowing that that’s not why.

Jeongguk gives him a bored deadpanned stare. “No. Maybe it’s because I shit out of my ass and don’t want her mouth near it? She’s perfect, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Jimin cackles. “Well it’s not like you just let her go for it! You have to prepare.”

Jeongguk sits and listens as his friends give him nothing less than a full comprehensive lecture on the logistics of ass eating and ass getting ate. Ass 101. He’s still unsure but hearing from guys who have actually done it and enjoyed it makes him feel a bit more open and curious. It has him pulling out his phone and tentatively typing out a text to you, finally replying to the picture you sent.

me:

i’m thinking about it

He watches you, waiting for the text to get to you. He smiles when he sees you get excited at seeing his name on your home screen, something warm blossoming in his chest. He struggles to keep his face straight when he sees your head whip up, looking at him wide-eyed like you can’t believe what he just texted you. His fingers wiggle in a small wave, and the biggest smile slowly crawls across your face. He receives one last message before lunch ends.

baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

say less, sir 🤤

~~~

Jeongguk lays on his back patiently, looking down at you below him while you take your time planting soft kisses all the way down his body. He was in a quite docile mood considering all the pestering you’ve put him through the past few days. And despite what you both knew you had planned for him. Something he claimed to be nervous about, but you supposed one could be nervous and excited and pliant all at once.

When you take one of his nipples into your mouth he lets out a soft “oh...” his hands flying up like he wants to wrap them in your hair, hold you there till he’s pleased, but he catches himself when his arms are halfway raised. He brings them back down by his sides, fists the sheets like he’s holding himself back, like he wants to be good for you. As you lick and suck on the paired nipple, feeling it pebble in your mouth, you watch  Jeongguk’s mouth fall open silently while his eyebrows furrow and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between them. His cock is steadily going from warm and plump to hot and hard and leaking, you can feel it twitch against your lower belly.

He opens his eyes to watch you and you can see his pupils are blown and you smile up at him, a tiny bud still pulled between your teeth and Jeongguk whines. A high pitch needy, breathy noise falls from his lips before he pulls his bottom one between his teeth. His head turns to the side, baring his neck in subconscious submission, and God. He doesn’t get like this often but when he does? He is the prettiest sight.

Heat pools in your belly and your panties are already sticking to your bottom half. You hum before moving your ministrations to his torso, soft wet open mouth kisses being placed any and everywhere, prolonged ones on each of his abs. He works so hard for his body, his physique. It’s something he does for himself, but you feel lucky that you get to see him like this in all of his glory.

“Thank you.” You say as you place a kiss on the tattoo he has on his hip bone.

He hums, “For what?”

“For letting me see you like this,” You finally wrap a hand around his cock. You bite your lip when you feel it jump in your palm, “For letting me explore today. You’re so sexy, and so lovely, and so perfect. You work so hard, baby.” Kisses, so many kisses planted over his groin area, but never where he wants it most.

He huffs and you can see a flush from embarrassment darken the already present flush of arousal, due to the praise and mention of exploring. He squirms in your hold, not wanting to talk, probably wishing you would just get on with it already. Surely you can feel him throbbing in your hand, right?

Finally, you bring your lips to his frenulum and place the softest kitten lick to it and Jeongguk positively keens in your hold. You stroke his cock, squeezing on the upstroke to watch a bead of precum well at the top. It glistens, shiny and clear, at the pink head. You wrap your lips around the tip fully, lapping and swirling your tongue over it, humming at the heady, slightly bitter taste on your tongue. It’s not particularly pleasant per se but it’s sexy. The fact you get him so worked up that his cock can’t help but leak, so worked up that he can’t help the soft little whines that fall from his lips; the fact that he gets so turned on and hard and wet just from a few of your kisses and licks makes you moan with his cock in your mouth, thighs squeezing together for some type of pressure and relief.

You pop off with a harsh suck. “I can’t wait to taste you.” You groan, licking a broad stripe up his cock with the flat of your tongue.

He grumbles quietly shifting, sort of like he’s antsy and frustrated. He knows what you mean and he knows you don’t mean his cock that you just had in your mouth.

“What was that?” You ask through a smile, nipping at his hip with your teeth.

“Can you stop talking about it and just suck my dick so I can forget you’re even gonna do that?” He rolls his eyes and pouts down at you with a tiny scowl on his face.

“Oh baby,” You laugh, not patronizingly, but there is a little bit of a teasing lilt to your voice, “Are you still embarrassed?”

He doesn’t answer, just scowls harder if that was even possible.

You move away from his cock, and up his body. His eyes reflect panic and his hands finally move from the sheets to press on your shoulders, trying to keep you in place. “No, stay,” he whines.

You laugh again pushing against his hold before finally settling half on his chest. You rest a leg over his thigh, keeping your body close and pressed to his. You look into his big brown doe eyes that are slightly glassy from all the teasing. You can see some apprehension and nervousness swimming in them as you place a hand on his cheek, stroking softly. He closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm before his hand comes up to hold your wrist, to just touch some more. His other hand runs up and down your body that’s resting half on top of him, tickling slightly like your the one that needs attention. He kisses your hand that’s on his cheek softly before looking at you again.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You say quietly, thumb brushing over his cheek bone.

His eyes fall closed again and you can see his brow furrow once more, though this time it isn’t out of pleasure it’s because he’s thinking. Despite all the playful teasing and pestering and banter, you’ve always made sure to check that he was actually okay with you going down there. And, yeah, he was nervous but after talking about it seriously and doing some research together he always said he was fine with it. But you know things can change in the moment and you just want to double check, make sure that he still feels that way.

You hum in question gently, prompting a response.

He huffs, tightening his grip on your wrist, a nervous gesture. His eyes are still closed when he quietly says, “No I just... I- I’m not like backing out...”

“You can though.” You interrupt.

His eyes open quickly, and he shakes his head. “No, no I want to I just...” His voice starts off strong but tappers into a softer tone. “I want to I just feel a bit like... weird.”

Your brow furrows this time. “Why, baby?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t want you to.” He doesn’t meet your eyes and you can feel his cheek heat up in your palm.

Ahhhh, you think. Although you talked and teased about the topic, you realize that while Jeongguk agreed (whilst impishly feigning a faux diswant on principle) you never realized that the lighthearted “You shouldn’t want to eat my ass this bad” remarks may have stemmed from something serious, and weren’t just playful protests.

“Why do you feel that way?” You press gently.

His eyes flicker to you and then to your mouth, then back to something (nothing) off to the side. He has a small not-so-amused smile on his lips when he says, “It’s kinda taboo isn’t it?”

You can’t help but giggle at the word he used. Taboo. Out of all the things you guys have done, this is what he chooses to get shy about. Sweet boy.

“Not any more tabooo than you wanting to eat my ass, or fuck my ass.” You hum at him, stretching out the word in a teasing manner, making him look at you. You smile at him before continuing, “Or you like slapping me, or me gagging you with my panties, or-“

“Okay okay! I get it.” He laughs and places a kiss to your lips to get them to stop moving.

You beam, glad to see he’s a bit more relaxed. The boner however, is definitely gone, but that can be fixed.

“I’m not trying to convince you though.” You emphasize, “I only want to if you want to.”

He nods, softly smiling at you. “I want to.”

A salacious grin takes over your face and you sigh softly into his ear before whispering, “Perfect... I’m going to make you feel so good baby, make you feel so good with my tongue. Get you all whiny and red and sweaty. Maybe your legs will start to shake from how good it feels? Do you want that, Jeongguk?” You nip at his ear lobe as you feel a slight tremor run through his body. Your hips subtly roll against the side of his body, seeking any friction at this point. You feel him nod. “Maybe if you like my mouth enough we can use fingers when you’re ready baby.” You hear him suck in a sharp breath and slowly let it out on a shaky exhale. You grin and place a kiss to his temple before continuing. “Get them inside of you to find that spot that will really set you off. The spot that will make you cum for me. Wouldn’t that feel so good baby?”

He nods again and you can feel the hand that has been running up and down your back throughout the conversation grip at your ass roughly.

“Say it baby, I wanna hear you.”

He whines and struggles against the hand on his face that is now gripping his jaw, still putting up a little bit of a fight about wanting something he considers “taboo”. But he gives in easily enough when he realizes you won’t continue until you get more confirmation that he genuinely wants this, and is excited to have it.

“It’s gonna feel so good y/n. God, you’re gonna make me feel so good.” He’s shy when he says it, but he’s almost panting as well. At last, he’s giving in and admitting to himself that this is something that will feel good and is okay to want.

He grips your face and kisses you. It starts slow and tentative but quickly manifests into a kiss that is deep and hard, one that is full of lust and neediness. He bites at your lip needing to release some of the pent up frustration but at your whine of pain he licks over it apologetically, placing softer kisses instead for a moment before he rests his forehead against yours, both your breathing is ragged for a minute until he speaks up.

“Please y/n. I’m so hard.” He pleads in a soft whisper.

You take a second and look down between your bodies and sure enough, his cock has returned to full hardness, and your mouth waters seeing even more precum welling at the tip than before.

“I’m gonna suck it.”

“Please do.” Jeongguk laughs as you move down his body, but the laugh goes high pitched and breathy when you take him down your throat immediately.

“Fuck...” he sighs, his head falling back and eyes fluttering.

You pull off and close your eyes, relishing in the fact that you can make him feel like this. Grinning against his cock you place a kitten kiss to the shaft. “Good baby?”

He nods his head. “Yes yes, please keep going.”

You hum against the head causing Jeongguk to exhale sharply, hips twitching due to the vibrations. He’s so sensitive and you crave the reactions you pull from him. Whether they’re the soft noises and the small twitches or the loud moans and jerking muscles, they are all equally loved and desired.

Quickly you pull off and reach up placing your hand under his mouth, before he can protest at you pausing again. Maybe you’re being a little mean, but he sounds so pretty when he’s desperate and you just can’t help yourself.

“Spit.” You instruct.

You see him work his jaw, sharp edges protruding here and there while he gathers some in his mouth before spitting it into your hand. You peck a nipple on the way back down to his cock wrapping the spit filled hand around him. You see him watching you and you hold eye contact as you gather some of your own and let it drool from your mouth landing on the tip of his cock. You swear you see his eyes go impossibly darker, his jaw clenching, hands turning to fists in the sheets beneath you both.

When you stroke, mixing everything, his eyes close and he lets out a breath through his nose as he rests back and gets a little more comfortable. It’s not too messy, just the perfect amount of wetness for the glide to be slick and pleasing for him. You tighten your grip and twist under the head watching as the muscles in his stomach and thighs tense, a soft grunt draws your gaze to his face.

“Yeah... like that...” he whispers. He’s just barely rocking his hips into your hands, trying to be subtle while also trying to chase the feeling.

You speed up your hand, keeping up the movements he likes while adding your tongue to flick at the underside of his head. You glance at him and find him watching you again, a fucked out look on his face, mouth slightly parted and a bead of sweat running down his temple. Slowly you sink down watching him till you can’t anymore, burying the tip of your nose in the soft patch of neatly kept hair at the base of his cock. When you feel him hit the back of your throat you contract it and shake your head from side to side and finally, finally you pull out one of his loud and unrestrained moans. It goes straight to your pussy, making it feel like it’s pulsing in your panties.

You come up for a breath before you stay down as long as you can repeating the same actions that pulled the lovely moans from his throat and you continue to hear them as you feel him start to sink his hips, almost like he’s overwhelmed and trying to pull away from how good it feels, like he can’t handle how how good it feels.

In your peripheral vision you can see his hands twitching like he’s fighting with himself before he gives in and sinks them into your hair, pulling slightly before pushing your head down and bringing his hips back up. He’s not fucking your face, but he let’s his cock sink as far back as it can and let’s you work your throat around him, lets himself get overwhelmed instead of pulling away from the feeling like he was before.  

Jeongguk was a head pusher in every sense of the term. Some people hated when their partners did that, but you loved it. You loved it because Jeongguk was different from most head pushers. He had variety. Sometimes he liked pushing your head down and holding you there to choke you and watch tears form in your eyes, to watch your makeup run while you struggled to breathe. Sometimes he did it in a face-fucking way, his hips jackhammering while he moved your head up and down just the way he wanted it. This time though, he held your head down in a begging way. In a way that said “Oh god please, please don’t stop, it feels so fucking good, please stay there forever”.

Jeongguk is whimpering above you and you hum and moan loudly sending strong vibrations up your throat and down his cock and he’s thrashing, throwing his head back, grip in your hair tightening, a pleasant pain on your scalp.

“Oh my fucking god,” He groans, neck extended and his eyes squeezed shut.

His whole body is burning when you bring a hand down to massage his balls while still moving your throat against his tip and then all of a sudden he tenses and stills before he’s pulling you off, frantically chanting “Stop it, stop it.”

At lightening speed you grip the base of his cock, squeezing, trying to keep his orgasm at bay. Jeongguk’s whole body jerks with his cock, but no cum leaks out, only precum and spit making a mess on his angry, swollen cock. He relaxes back for a moment, cock still jumping, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath and you do the same and after you slowly release the hold you have on his cock you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Suddenly your world is blurry and you’re quickly being pulled to his chest and smothered with his hands on your cheeks, and his lips everywhere they can reach.

“God. You’re so good, so so good y/n. So perfect, make me feel so good baby. How do you do it?” He praises you between kisses and you giggle, gently pawing at his chest to get him to stop or at least slow down.

He does and you take a second to look at him. And he’s glowing. His eyes are shining, like he was close to tears and his cheeks are flushed. His sweaty hair sticks to his forehead in places while the longer pieces are fanned out on the pillow underneath him. And his smile. He’s beaming and you are so in love.

You bring a hand up and brush some sweaty strands back off his face. His eyes close and he pushes into the touch like a kitten wanting pets. He sighs contentedly.

“You’re so beautiful, Jeongguk. So pretty.” You whisper, placing a kiss to his forehead.

You bring your hand down from his hair and cradle his cheek, running your thumb over his plump, red bottom lip. You can see faint teeth marks underneath it from where he was biting it. His eyelashes flutter on his cheek as his eyes close and he sighs quietly before he nibbles on the fingertip with his front teeth and then takes the whole thing into his mouth, sucking on it. You gasp quietly, and apply light pressure pushing down on the wetness of his tongue prying his mouth open and he just lets you.

Your lips find his, and you dip your tongue into his open mouth before your hand moves to his jaw to keep it agape and you fuck your tongue into it.

“This is how my tongue is gonna fuck you...” you whisper.

He whines high and needy, and his hands move to cup your cheeks. You moan before settling over him more comfortably and pushing your soaked panties to the side before wiggling till his cock is settled between your lips.

The night was supposed to be about him, but you need something before you lose it. You move your hips in small little thrusts, the length of his cock rubbing deliciously over you clit. You both gasp into each others mouths. The hands on your ass encourage you, pressing into your cheeks and the small of your back whenever you thrust forward, and the thumbs on your hips push when you grind back.

“Holy fuck you’re so wet.” He’s says it like he’s in awe, like he can’t believe it. Like he hasn’t made you this way so many times before.

You rest your forehead on his while continuing to grind on his cock. “Love you like this...” You grip his jaw again and pry it open, even though you know he would open willingly if you just asked. You look in his eyes searching, before you feel him nod in your hold. You lean forward over his mouth and let some spit fall into it, he moans while he eagerly drinks it down.

His grip on your hips tightens and you feel his cock jerk against your clit, but he’s good. He doesn’t cum.

“I love it too... just not all the time... it’s- a lot. Overwhelming.” He whispers, and you coo.

“I know baby, you’re doing so well. Color?” You ask.

“Green.” He answers without hesitation.

You smile and kiss him. “Wanna keep going?”

He flushes when he nods his head. “Please.”

Once again you find yourself between Jeongguk’s legs. You play with his cock a little before smoothing your hands under his thighs, trying to gently push them up and back but he whines and resists.

“You have to let me see baby.” You say, a smile in your voice.

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before slowly letting his legs fall apart.

You hum, before saying, “Hand me a pillow please.”

He’s confused but does as you ask, understanding when you tap the side of his cheek with instructions to lift his hips, pillow settling underneath his ass and lower back, propping them up a little.

You settle back down on your tummy, and open his legs again. Jeongguk says nothing but you can feel his body shaking a little with a constant tremor. He takes a deep breath settling back into the pillow he placed behind his head so he can watch what you do next.

“Ready?” You ask, hands gripping at the meaty inside parts of his thighs. You get a stiff nod, but still no noises. You pout but get started by running your tongue flat over his balls, hoping to ease him into it.

You feel his thighs tense, as you lap at the hairless balls, sucking them into your mouth every once in a while. Your eyes constantly flicker to Jeongguk’s face to make sure there’s nothing wrong, but all you see is pleasure on his face while he breathes out in soft little puffs through his nose. His eyes are hooded and his lip is drawn between his teeth.

You hold his heady gaze and you place your first little lick on his perineum. At the contact, his head falls back, mouth hanging open. You wiggle closer to place a kiss to the area, transitioning to quick little flicks of your tongue and Jeongguk moans, and you watch as he spreads a bit more, lifting his feet so his knees are pulled closer to his chest, giving you easier access. You moan at his eagerness, and have to stop for a minute, putting a hand between your legs to just press on your center for some kind of relief.

His eyes are still closed, like he doesn’t want to see you between his legs licking at his most private area, but his quiet whining and restless shifting is enough to let you know that he’s okay and enjoying it.

You bring your hands up and place one on each of his cheeks, squeezing a little, admiring the soft give of his muscles. He’s so plush. You apply pressure so his legs fall farther back and then spread him apart. You bite your lip and your mouth waters at the thought of how good your going to make him feel.

Tentatively you poke your tongue out and trace it around the little ring of muscle. He gasps and tries to clench and close his legs but you hold them in place.

“It’s okay baby.”

“‘S weird...” He mumbles.

“I know. Just try to relax for me, okay?”

You hear him take a few deep breaths before you feel his body shake with a nod. His legs fall open again and you make quick work of his hole, placing your tongue flat over it, dragging all the way up to where his balls meet his perineum.

“Ohhh,” He breathes out.

You take that as a good sign before getting a bit rougher with your actions, less of the tentative licks and more of some tight sucking and quick flicking. He’s doing so well and you can hear him moaning above you. His cock is so hard and swollen on his belly, neglected and leaking.

“Pull your legs back baby.”

He opens his eyes and they are unfocused. It takes him a second to process what you asked him to do, but once he does he moves quickly. He has a hazy look in his eyes, his mouth in parted slightly, and his tongue peaks out to wet his lips as he gets comfortable in the new position.

“Watch me?” You plead, while licking over his hole again, eyes not leaving him waiting for a response.

His eyes close for just a moment and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between his brows and his cock jumps, a little spurt of precum oozing out. He inhales and opens his eyes on the exhale, breathing out a small “Okay.”

Once you start to figure out what he likes and what makes him happy, all you hear is the steadily getting louder pleased noises falling from his lips. You point your tongue and gently push past the tight ring of muscles and Jeongguk sobs. He brings a hand to his face and rubs over it, before throwing his arm over his face, hiding because he’s so overwhelmed. To your surprise he starts to gently rock against your tongue.

“Oh my god you’re so hot Jeongguk,” You moan.

“Don’t stop,” He begs. He sounds close to tears.

“Touch yourself, baby.”

You wait until you see his hand wrap around his cock giving himself a few slow strokes, wet eyes on you, waiting for you to keep going.

As soon as your mouth meets him again, his hand he has on his cock starts moving faster, almost frantically over his length and his hips are stuttering like he doesn’t know if he wants to fuck his hand or if he wants to fuck himself back onto your tongue. You decide for him and hold his hips close to your face, sucking repeatedly on the ring of fluttering muscle.

Jeongguk gasps, “I’m close, I wanna cum y/n- Please, I-“ His head falls back and his hand doesn’t slow.

You give your hum of approval against his hole, and watch him fall apart.

His head is thrown back and he’s so sweaty from working so hard for his release. His chest rises and falls in quick staccato breaths, and his free hand goes up to a nipple, lightly rubbing his thumb over it and he keens, before he goes silent, whole body stuttering and he chokes out nothing more than a quick, quiet “Cumming” before his cock pulses and shoots out 1, 2, 3 stripes of white, the rest dribbling down his length and over his fingers. His body almost convulses from the pleasure coursing through his veins. He keeps stroking, and he lets you keep licking until he squirms, uncomfortable from the overstimulation.

You wipe your mouth and immediately make your way up to his face, straddling his hips. You don’t care about the cum, but you’re carful to avoid his sensitive cock, which is a little deflated but still laying somewhat hard on his tummy. You’re both out of breath when you slam your lips against his so it’s more gasping into each other’s mouths while your lips occasionally meet before you need a breath again. But you’re desperate to show him how good he did.

You pull back and grip his face in your hands. His hands hold your wrists, like he’s keeping them in place on his cheeks. He’s still catching his breath with his eyes closed, but you want him to see how proud you are.

“Jeongguk, look at me.”

He does and his eyes are glassy and wet and his eyelashes are clumped together with unshed tears. He offers you a sheepish smile.

“You did so good baby. So fucking good. I love you.” You pepper kisses over his face.

He laughs breathlessly, “Didn’t get to your fingers...”

You laugh with him quietly. “That’s okay baby, we can do that next time. You were perfect.” You take a deep breath and collapse on top of him, resting your face in the crook of his neck, smiling while leaving small lovebites all over.

After a minute or so though, you feel him start to get restless underneath you.

“What is it baby?” You ask not really moving much.

He mumbles something into the top of your head.

“Huh?” You say sitting up to look at him.

He looks kinda petulant for someone who just came so hard it hit their neck.

He mumbles again.

“Koo. Words.”

He blushes and scowls looking away from you but the hands settled on your hips rub small circles into your hip bones, showing he’s not actually mad and most likely just being a brat.

“I want them now.” It’s quiet and pouty, but at least you understand him this time.

Your mouth opens in understanding but your eyebrows raise in surprise. You look over your shoulder and down to see his cock still laying plump and hard on his stomach in a little puddle of cum.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I know we said that was the plan but we can always do it ano-“

He grabs the back of your neck pulls you down to kiss you deep and slow, his tongue finding it’s way into your mouth. When he speaks again it’s soft against your lips.

“Please y/n... it felt so good,” A tiny peck is given as your noses touch.

You exhale a shaky breath, “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want.”

He kisses you deeply again, but positions you over his cock so he can rut up into your pussy.

“Can’t you feel how bad I want it?” He whispers against your lips. He nips at the bottom one while smiling before pulling away and settling against the pillows again, looking at you expectantly once he gets comfortable.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Big words coming from someone who claimed they didn’t even want this like an hour ago.” You smile down at him, eyes sparkling.

He snickers. He breathes a deep sigh before settling back even more. “Yeah. That was before I came so hard that I almost blacked out.” His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed like he’s reminiscing about a distant memory, a smug smile on his lips.

“You switch from being my baby to a pain so fast.” You pout as you settle once again between Jeongguk’s legs.

He parts them with a hum. “Still your baby... just- make me feel good please, I’m like so hard- throbbing.”

You suck on your fingers a little bit to get them wet before circling one around the ring of muscles. You don’t miss the tiny gasp, or the way his legs subconsciously part even wider.

“I don’t think it’s gonna feel the best at first....” You warn, applying the slightest pressure to his hole, before going back to circling it. “Hand me the lube on the nightstand please.”

Jeongguk obliges before he says, “I know just... go slow.” He sounds just a little bit nervous.

You give a quick nod while you open up Jeongguk’s half empty bottle of lube and drizzle some onto your fingers, lathering it over them to warm it some before getting them into position.

“Do you think about me when you use this?” you ask still running your slick fingers over him.

He nods and licks his lips subconsciously. “Mhmm sometimes.”

You fake gasp and bite at his knee by your side. You’re sitting crisscross applesauce in between his legs. “Only sometimes?”

“I watch porn too,” He giggles breathlessly. “Sometimes I look for girls that look like you though, if that helps.”

“It does not.” You say indignantly, only half joking.

He brings his foot up and lightly kicks at your leg. “You watch porn too that’s literally why we are in this mess right now. We watched it together.”

You full on laugh at that. He has a point. “Okay enough, hush and relax baby.”

You weren’t sure if it was better to warn Jeongguk, or just slowly ease him into it without saying anything. If you warned him you knew he would tense up and it would just make it harder on his body, but you also didn’t want to take him by surprise either.

You must have just been circling his rim for a minute because Jeongguk huffs before asking, “Are you gonna like... put it in or...?”

You take that as a go, and peck the inside of his thigh a preemptive apology because you knew it was going to hurt a little. Jeongguk had prepped you for the times you tried anal with him and you vividly remember the sting before it became bearable. Your hands and fingers were much smaller than his, and certainly much smaller than his cock, so you are hoping the pain isn’t too horrible and ends quickly.

Oh so slowly you start to sink your middle finger inside of him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and when you flick your eyes up to look at him you can see his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t really hurt yet, it’s just uncomfortable... Keep going.”

You nod softly before you resume what you were doing, and once you get down to your last knuckle, you wiggle your finger around inside for a second like you had seen in the porn that you and him watched together, hoping to stretch him out some.

Above you Jeongguk is taking shallow breaths the sort of sound like they are getting a little higher pitched at the end, and he shifts and wiggles a bit because of the foreign feeling. You glance at his cock and see that’s its gone just a little soft.

“Touching yourself might help you relax a little bit and it might make it feel a little bit better.” You suggest lightly.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything but he does as he’s told, slowly stroking his cock back to it’s full length.

“That’s it, good boy. I can feel you’re less tense already.” You praise, and you start to move your finger in and out. It’s tight, but there’s a lot less resistance. You move them just a bit faster and focus on Jeongguk’s reactions.

His hand has started to move a bit faster over his cock, and his mouth is parted and his eyes are closed, like he’s lost in the feeling. There’s a flush on his face that has travelled all the way down his chest. Soft moans fall from his lips occasionally, although you can’t tell if that’s from you or him touching himself.

“Does it feel good?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“It feels…” He pauses like he’s unsure. “It feels… nice. I think.”

You snort. “You think?”

He laughs a little breathless, hand still stroking over his cock. “I mean it’s weird. But it’s not unpleasant. I could probably cum if I kept touching my dick.”

“Don’t cum, I haven’t found your button yet.” Your eyebrows furrow, determination set on your face.

“I do not have a button.” He says absently.

“You do. I’m gonna do the second one kay?”

“I don’t and okay.”

You ignore him and grab the lube again, adding a bit more. Your fingers find their place and as they start to sink in, Jeongguk sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, and goes rigid. You wince.

“Hurts…” He says quietly.

“I’m sorry baby.” You rub your free hand over his thigh, trying to comfort him. You give him a moment, he takes a few breaths before saying to keep going.

It takes a little bit but eventually you get both fingers in. Jeongguk isn’t feeling good yet, teeth grinding, body tense, and hands fisted in the sheets trying to ground himself, but you are determined to make it good for him. You get on your stomach and add your tongue to your fingers as you start to pull them out just to push them back in. The lube doesn’t taste very good, but the way that Jeongguk’s breath hitches when he feels your mouth on him again makes up for it.

“I- I love that.” He says, voice airy and soft as he turns his head to the side and into his shoulder like he’s trying to hide.

“Mmm, starting to feel good now baby?” You ask, flicking your tongue while your fingers start to sink in easily.

“Yeah, ‘s good…” He mumbles.

Once you’re sure that there’s no pain at all for Jeongguk, you start to crook your fingers inside of him on every thrust in trying to find that secret spot of his. Jeongguk sounds lovely while you’re searching, but the way he sounds when you finally hit it is like nothing you’ve heard from him before. It’s like he gets punched in the gut and looses his breath, a moan getting caught in his throat for a moment before he exhales a high pitched whine. You didn’t get to see it, too focused, but you know his eyes rolled back.

“There,” he breathes.

You moan as you rest your head against his thigh, focusing on your attention on your fingers and hitting that spot every time you move them inside of him. Each time you hit it sweet moans are punched out, or quiet affirmations are whispered. “Yes, please, more…”.

He has that look of pleasure on his face, the scrunched eyebrows, the parted mouth. He’s fidgety, and fussy like he just wants more but doesn’t know how to get it. He huffs, annoyed, before he starts to push back on your fingers.

“God… you’re so desperate for it,” You whisper completely captivated by how much pleasure Jeongguk looks like he’s in.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Until you start to put a constant pressure on his prostate, rubbing.

“Oh fuck- I-“ He looks down to where your fingers are like he can’t believe the way they are making him feel before he throws his head back and let’s out a deep groan.

He lets you make him feel good, let’s the pleasure build up in his body until you start to feel him tense. His whines start to come out more frequently, almost constant moans filling the air. So noisy. His legs open more and you see how his toes curl in the sheets.

“Oh my god I think I’m gonna cum,” It’s said breathlessly, almost confused. Like he didn’t think that he would actually be able to cum just from your fingers inside of him, hands still at his sides fisted in the sheets.

“Yeah baby?” You ask, voice airy.

He nods, tongue poking out of his mouth like he’s concentrating.

Your arm hurts, but you keep thrusting and rubbing over that spot inside of him. His muscles are strained, and next to your body, you can see his legs start to tremble. His breathing is fast and short. His cock is fat and swollen laying in a puddle of precum, it looks like it hurts with how red it is. You take you other hand and start to rub on his perineum, stimulating him on the outside as well as the inside and that’s when he loses it.

He let’s out a choked cry before his body jerks up, curling in on itself. “Oh fuck I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-“

You don’t let up, an awestruck smiling forming on your face as you watch Jeongguk fall apart on your fingers. He’s so tight around them, it’s like his body is begging you not to stop, keeping you in place. He feels like every hair on his body is standing on end and like his skin is overly receptive and sensitive to every little thing. Wave after wave of ecstasy is flowing over him. His whole body trembles, yet his cock doesn’t jerk like with his other orgasm. This time it just pulses flat on his stomach, cum leaking out of the tip adding to the mess that was already there. With every pulse of his cock, Jeongguk’s body curls more, back raise off the bed, abs flexed due to the strain on his core. The look on his face is one of indescribable pleasure. It’s obscene. After the final pulse of his cock, he falls back, absolutely spent.

Your fingers slowly come to a stop, and you carefully remove them from him and wipe them on the bed before you crawl over his thigh and flop down by his side. You peck his cheek, staying quiet this time, not wanting to overwhelm him. He’s still has tremors running through his body when he turns his head to look at you. His chest is heaving and his eyes are droopy, but there’s a sleepy smile on his lips. He curls onto his side so you guys are facing each other.

The silence is thick and heavy but not in a suffocating way. More so in a comforting way. The atmosphere feels like you both are wrapped in a weighted blanket, just relishing in the warm afterglow of what you did together.

You wiggle closer, hook a thigh over his hip. “How was it? Did you like it?” You don’t know why but you sound shy, kinda nervous.

He simply nods, a soft smile on his face as he brushes some hair behind your ear, hand coming to rest on your cheek for just a few seconds before it’s sliding down your arm, down your hip, playing with lacy top of your panties. He bumps noses with you, breathing in your exhales before he closes his eyes and fits his lips between yours. His hand slips into your panties.

You open easily for him, angling yourself mostly on your back so it’s easier for him to reach where you want him most. He sighs into your mouth when he feels how wet you are. He dips between your lips and you gasp, hand going down to grip at his wrist willing him not to tease, to not move his hand away.

“Don’t worry, I just wanna make you feel good baby.” He coos in your ear as his middle finger starts to rub slowly over your clit.

You let out soft whimpers at the slow pace that makes the fire in your belly curl and steadily grow.

“Jeongguk, I’m already close…” You warn.

“Mmm, that’s it baby. Want you to cum for me, like I came for you.” His finger speeds up some. “Fuck, you made me cum so hard y/n. Made me crazy. You always do.” He moans gently into your ear.

You nod, and your legs begin to tremble. “Don’t stop,” You beg, meaning both his fingers and his words.

“You wanna know what it felt like? You wanna know what you did to me?” He presses a touch harder, and nips are your cheek.

You nod again, subtly rocking your hips into his touch.

“You made me cum untouched y/n. Do you know how good you had to fuck me in order for that to happen? God, it was so intense, and I was just leaking so much the whole time. You did that to me baby, you made me feel that good. Fuck, I wanna make you feel that good too, please cum for me y/n. I know you’re close, I know your body just as well as you know mine.” He sounds desperate, just yearning to get you there. “I can tell by the way your legs are shaking, and the way you can’t stop whining my name. Sound so pretty baby, just for me. Your hand on my wrist is gripping so hard, like you can’t take what my fingers are doing to you. But you’re gonna take it and give me what I want right? Just like I gave you what you wanted, hmm?”

“Fuck, Jeongguk I’m cumming,” You cry, his words and his fingers making you shake and finally get the release that you’ve been putting off the whole night. Your thighs close over his hand but Jeongguk doesn’t let up, not until you’re cumming for the second time in a span of minutes.

“Please- I can’t-“ You squirm, and wiggle, until his fingers slow and finally slip form your panties. You sigh in bliss, body twitching as the last bits of your climax leave your body.

You turn back to your side and snuggle all the way against Jeongguk’s body, legs intertwining. Jeongguk runs his nails over your back, making little goosebumps sprout over your body. There’s a peaceful quiet coming over you, both tired from the events of the night. Jeongguk breaks it.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” It’s a timid statement, but you can hear how much he means it.  

You kiss softly over his heartbeat. “I always will.”

“Just please don’t ever ask to peg me.”

You simply hum. “Goodnight baby.”

------------------------

i hope you liked it!! i’m thinking of writing a smutty drabble of when oc and jk watch the porn together 🤨 let me know if you would want to read that or anymore of this universe! comments, notes, and feedback are YEARNED for. my ask is also open if you want to request, share thoughts, or just talk

part 3 here!

[ragingbookdragon]

And I Will Still Be Here Stargazing

Batsis x Batfamily Story

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I shouldn't be allowed to make new stories when I've already got WIP's to do. Oh well, HERE'S ANOTHER STORY! -Thorne

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She glanced through the telescope once more, scanning the expanse of the night sky before her. Giddiness ran through her at the thought of seeing the supposed comet coming back around. Apparently, it was one that hadn’t been seen in two hundred years. It’d taken almost two whole days to convince her dad to let her go out on her own in the field three miles out of town.

Of course, that convincing came with a massive surprise—not—of taking a tracker with her just in case—being the only non-vigilante in her family did make her vulnerable to trouble, but most of their enemies wanted nothing to do with her, so she figured she was alright.

Pulling away from the scope, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and she sighed as she answered it, putting it to her ear. “Dad, I already told you, I’m fine.”

You weren’t answering your brothers’ texts. They were worried.

“Oh, for the love of—dad, I’m twenty-one. I shouldn’t have to check in every five freakin’ minutes.”

We worry about you, (Y/N).

“I know,” she griped. “C’mon, one night where I can actually be treated like I have a functioning brain inside my skull. Let me have it.” She glanced up again, seeing something streak across the sky. “Oh, there it is!” (Y/N) grinned. “I gotta go dad! I love you!”

Wait, (Y/N)—

Hanging up, she stowed the phone in her pocket before looking into the glass. “Oh wow,” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful…and big.” (Y/N) hummed and pulled back slightly. “Really, really big. Almost like it’s…coming to earth.”

She took a step back when she realized that was exactly what was happening. The comet, or whatever it was, was barreling towards the field near her and she gasped, taking another step back. Her foot slipped in the mud, and she fell, but the thought of being obliterated made her scramble to her feet and run as fast as she could away from it and while she wasn’t sure she’d outrun the devastation, she was going to try.

That being said, whatever it was, hit the ground with a thundering explosion, sending dirt and gravel flying, along with her and she screamed as she was thrown to the ground. (Y/N) covered her head, crying in pain as debris scraped her arms and legs, but she stayed still until the world calmed around her.

When it did, she peeked through her arms and gaped at the destruction around her. Trees had been blown from their roots and in the middle of where her telescope had once been, was something smoking inside a hollowed dip in the ground, dirt and rocks thrown away.

(Y/N) shakily got to her feet and crept closer, terrified that she was going to find some horror movie come alive. Alien and Predator stuck in the back of her mind and part of her wanted to flee. The other part—and curse her Wayne curiosity—wanted to know what it was.

“Hello?” she whispered as she neared the rim of the crater, peering in. A groan sounded and she gasped, pulling away before she took another glance and she saw a woman. At least it looked like a woman.

Her body was unlike anything familiar to (Y/N), in the form of an average woman, but she had no skin. Instead, her body looked like the night sky, swirling pools of stars and dark matter, and her hair was long and white, shimmering like glitter. Her hips and wrists were plated with some type of metal, gold and inlaid with what looked like diamonds.

(Y/N) slid down the side of the crater against her better judgement, nearing the woman carefully. “Hello?” she called again. “Are you alright?” The woman groaned and rolled onto her back, eyes opening at her. She gasped at the white eyes, like stars.

“Help,” she weakly moaned.

Hurrying over, she knelt beside the woman. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She reached out to touch the woman but stilled when she felt the warmth radiating off her body.

“Please…help me,” she begged. “They’re…coming.”

(Y/N) shook her head and took the woman’s hand; it made her skin tingle. “Who’s coming?”

“The Insentients,” the woman said. “They’re coming in a years’ time.”

“I…I don’t understand,” she replied. “What are Insentients?”

“Terrible creatures that destroy life.” The woman grasped her hand. “I am Astra, Queen of the Stars. And you must help me.” (Y/N) couldn’t believe a thing she was hearing, simply gaping at her. “I have battled the Insentients for billions of years, but I am at my end.” She squeezed tightly, reaching up to cup (Y/N)’s cheek, white eyes widening. “You must take my place as queen and protect the life of this galaxy.”

She couldn’t even form words, mouth opening and closing like a fish and all she could muster was, “I’m sorry? What?”

Astra coughed and something splattered on (Y/N)’s clothes before fading from sight. “Please, you must do this or life as you know it will cease in one year. Take my place.”

“But I’m—I’m not some alien queen! I’m a human!” She spluttered. “What do I even do?!”

The queen sighed tiredly. “Child, nothing will stop the Insentients unless you help. They will destroy all in their path.”

(Y/N) shook her head and happened to glance towards the sky. “The stars,” she breathed. “They’re so…dull.”

“My life is fading…so they are too.” Astra whispered. “They will die.”

“What?!” she shouted. “But the sun?! It’ll go out!”

“Yes.” The queen murmured.

Bewildered, she asked, “What can I do?”

Astra gazed at her. “Take my power. Be reborn as the Queen of the Stars.”

“How do I?” She questioned and Astra took (Y/N)’s hands, placing them on her chest.

“Grasp my heart.”

“Grasp your what?” she repeated.

“My heart.” The woman’s chest opened, and she stared in surprise as a small, but brilliant light came into view. “Bring it to your own.”

“I better not die,” (Y/N) deadpanned as she cupped the light carefully. Her fingers tingled like she was being shocked, and she swallowed thickly as she brought it up to her chest, just above her heart. “What now?” she asked, and Astra’s form began to fade, starting at her feet.

“Your body will absorb all that I am…all that I…have been.” She smiled. “Place it within your chest.”

“That’s not possible.” (Y/N) retorted, though she moved her hands against her chest. “My body can’t just absorb—holy shit it’s working,” she blurted, and she went still as her something jolted her spine, all the way up her spinal cord to her brain.

Her jaw went slack as he eyes widened, head tipping back to stare at the sky above her. Memories flashed across her vision, faster than she could keep track of and then her mind felt like it was imploding. She let out a strangled gasp and tipped backwards, fatigue overcoming her. The last thing she remembered was Astra’s eyes and her smile before she disappeared from sight and (Y/N) descended into darkness.

***

When she came to, all she could think about was the pounding headache in her skull and the lack of memory the night before. (Y/N) sat up and looked around. The sun was high in the sky and her telescope was sitting neatly where it had been. She blinked, feeling as though she’d forgotten something important. When she couldn’t remember, she shrugged and got to her feet, beginning to take the scope apart and put it away.

(Y/N) rolled the sleeping bag up and put it in the tote, carrying both back towards the side of the road. Her butler should’ve been around to pick her up but when she didn’t see him, she frowned. Huh…I thought Alfie was coming to pick me up? Blinking in confusion, she patted her pocket for her phone and pulled it out, though her eyes went wide when she saw the shattered screen and burnt phone.

“What the hell?” she questioned. “What happened to my phone?” It looked like it’d been blown up. Now she was really confused. What the hell happened last night? (Y/N) sighed heavily and shoved the phone in her pocket. “I guess I’m walking then.” She grunted and heaved the telescope and sleeping bag over her shoulders, starting back towards the city in the distance.

***

GCPD was the first important building she came upon and as tired as she was, she knew they’d let her use one of their phones to call home. (Y/N) lethargically wandered into the department, stopping near the counter.

“Excuse me, can I use your phone?”

The man at the counter looked up and suddenly shot to his feet. “(Y/N) Wayne!” he shouted, and she blinked.

“Uh…yeah, that’s me?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re here.” Gesturing to her, he added “Wait right there! Don’t move!”

“Wait, but I—” the man sprinted off and she sighed. “Great. Probably going to get everyone so we can do pictures.”

Next thing she knew, Commissioner Gordon was running into the entry way. “Miss Wayne!”

(Y/N) looked at him. “Yes sir. That’s me.” She pointed to the phone at the desk. “I was wondering if I could use the phone to call home? Mine’s…busted.”

He reached out, grasping her arms. “Are you hurt? We should get you checked out immediately.”

“I’m fine?” she answered confusedly. “What’s going on? Why is everyone panicking?”

Gordon gaped at her. “You don’t know what’s going on?” she shook her head. “(Y/N), you’ve been missing for an entire week.”