#the last minute penalty coming in clutch

[bagel-batch]

Austin gp 2024 you will always be famous

[steddieas-shegoes]

coming in clutch

@starrystevie asked two days ago for someone to write enemies to lovers Steddie on the same hockey team and one of them gives the other his stick from the bench and so I volunteered and yesterday afternoon started writing this and it got to almost 6000 words by this morning. Oops?

This is therapy for me, as a Bruins fan, who is suffering tremendously this season. I can't believe some people live like this all the time. I am so, so sorry. I promise you fixing it with Steddie helps ease the ache a little. It's bitch4bitch, what's not to love?

rated e, minors dni | 5801 words | also on ao3 | cw: mention of injury, hate making out for the drama | tags: modern au, hockey au, enemies to lovers, feelings realization, sorta love confessions, anal fingering, anal sex, handjob, life is a series of connections

🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒

If there’s one thing Eddie Munson knows, it’s that Steve Harrington will steal the show.

With less than two minutes left in the game that will determine if they clinch the wild card spot for the playoffs, it could still go either way. They need a goal to tie it, and the point will be enough to get in, even if they lose in overtime.

The Rangers don’t even get anything if they win this one except a pat on the back, yet they’ve pulled their goalie in hopes of ruining the only chance the Bruins have of getting into the playoffs. If Eddie wasn’t seething with rage about potentially starting his offseason much sooner than expected, he’d respect the hell out of them for it.

How they got into this much of a mess is beyond him…or really it isn’t. It’s well within reach.

He knows from the beginning shit was hitting the fan and then it just…kept hitting the fan.

They started bad and they don’t play well from behind in games, so how could they catch up when their entire season went to shit so early on?

It should never come down to one win, not for them.

But he knows that some of the issues are that Steve was handed this captaincy before he was ready, and Eddie’s done nothing to truly help him. He wears an A, but it’s more for Asshole or Annoyance than Assistant. He knows it, Steve knows it, the team knows it.

It’s making everything harder.

Coach already lit him up a few times over stupid shit this season, things he can’t get away with for much longer. His time will be cut short on this team if he can’t-

The whistle blows and there’s a penalty on Hargrove. Not surprising, but it’s enough to get Eddie out of his own head and focus. There’s barely a minute left and they’re facing a long offseason if they don’t get their shit together.

He won’t see more ice time today. He’s third line right now, a demotion from his usual first line after a string of shitty, stupid penalties. Coach will send the first line back out for the last minute to increase their chances of scoring.

The puck drops and they make the fastest line change they’ve managed the entire game.

Steve’s skating to the puck, eyes on the prize. He’s good at it, despite Eddie hating that he feels constant competition with him. They don’t even play the same position. Eddie’s a defenseman for fuck sake. Steve’s a center. The only competition is what’s made up in his own head.

Steve gets there first, manages to pass it to Sinclair, who passes it to Hagan. It’s beautiful, but it’s not enough.

The puck is cleared out and they have to rush to it to start setting up again.

They don’t have time.

And then Steve tries to shoot it to center ice and his stick breaks. It’s the worst timing. Eddie feels his heart sink in his chest at the realization that this is it. They’re done.

Steve’s skating to the bench, yelling about needing a replacement when he should just get off the ice, let someone else out there. They’re gonna lose anyway.

Eddie throws Steve his own stick. It’s not the right curve, and not the right length. It’s not even the same brand.

But if there’s one thing Eddie can respect about Steve, it’s that he’s a damn good player. He makes shit happen, even when no one else can. He’s been their saving grace this season, arguably the only reason they’ve managed to even have a shot at the wild card spot.

He may hate his guts, and he may be annoyed that he got picked as captain, and he may also find him impossible to be around most of the time, but he can see that he’s one of the best players in the league.

Steve’s never skated harder than in this moment, and Eddie can’t feel his face as Steve sneaks the puck between the legs of Wheeler, winds back, and shoots.

None of their players get to it in time.

It goes in their empty net.

The bench is so loud, Eddie can’t even hear himself think.

They’ve tied it up.

The clock says 24 seconds.

It’s as good as done.

They’ll have overtime, of course, but they squeaked in the playoffs. They get at least four more games.

Steve skates to the bench and hands Eddie his stick, but doesn’t say anything.

That irks Eddie a little.

“Not even a thank you for getting the assist on that one?” Eddie asks because if he’s one thing, it’s a shithead.

“Shut up, Munson. Could’ve scored an empty net from the locker room,” Steve replies with an eyeroll, his smile dropping in annoyance.

A for annoyance, after all.

“With a broken stick?” Eddie pushes because he loves to push and because Steve always pushes back.

It’s their game.

Steve sits on the bench, catches his breath for a moment while the arena celebrates his goal.

“How about a thank you for getting us to the playoffs?” Steve says back.

It’s unlike him to be self-centered like this. It throws Eddie off.

For once, he doesn’t have a damn thing to say.

The goalie gets back in the net and the Rangers finish off the regulation game with their tails tucked between their legs.

Eddie doesn’t get sent back out, but neither does Steve.

Coach leans down to say something in Steve’s ear and he grits his teeth together, jaw clenching painfully.

When they’re about to start overtime, Coach taps his back and tells him to go.

“But it’s first line?” Eddie asks.

“I said go, Munson!” Coach says, leaving no room for argument.

So Eddie goes. He’s not gonna argue with the coach, and he’s damn sure not gonna be the reason there’s a delay in starting.

He skates to the blue line and sees the focus on Steve’s eyes.

This game can end either way to him and he won’t care, but Steve wants this win. He wants the two points, not just one. He wants to say they overcame a shitty game to pull off a win.

He would never admit it, but his effort is for Steve. His speed and hits during the first shift are to give Steve every opportunity to pull off this win.

If Steve wins, they all win.

Eddie should have had that mindset for every game. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to fight for their lives just to get a shot at the playoffs.

It’s not a great shift, but they manage to shut the Rangers down a few times.

Steve is red-faced on the bench, watching the second line move with a fire they were lacking for much of the first 60 minutes. That’s been a pattern this season, something Eddie isn’t sure they’ll get over with this group.

It ends during the third line’s shift.

The Rangers get a breakaway and score.

It’s a loss, but they’ve still won something. They aren’t leaving completely empty-handed.

The walk down the tunnel is interrupted by the broadcast person yelling for Steve to stay back to do the post-game interview and accept third star of the game. It always sucks accepting a star away from home ice, but Steve’s used to it by now.

He’s the guy who comes in clutch. He’s always a star.

Eddie’s only a little jealous over it.

The rest of the team is pretty quiet despite their playoff spot.

Coach stands in the center of the room.

“We got lucky,” he says. His tone is calm, but there’s something hidden beneath it that Eddie can sense is anger. “We won’t get lucky in the first round. Get your shit together before next week or you might as well start scheduling your tropical vacations.”

He leaves the room.

No one says anything as they get undressed. No one speaks when Steve comes in the room and wordlessly undresses. No one utters a word when he’s the first to leave, even though that’s the first time that’s happened in the history of ever.

Eddie follows him.

He should give him space. Now isn’t the time to work him up more.

Now is the time to be a good teammate, a good alternate captain. Behave and follow the rules and be a good example off the ice. Leadership saw something in him to give him the A in the first place, now’s his chance to prove he respects them for it.

“Since when do you walk out without a speech?” Eddie calls after him when they’ve exited the building. This arena is relatively normal, but there’s a lower level of parking just for VIP. He doesn’t see anyone else yet, but that’s not surprising. Their bus is parked a few rows away, doors up to start loading equipment for the haul to the airport.

“Since there isn’t a damn thing I can say to get this team motivated and I’m done trying!” Steve yells back without turning. “If you’d like to try, go right ahead.”

“Doesn’t seem like something a captain would do.”

Steve freezes, turns.

His face is bright red and Eddie knows immediately he pushed too far.

“Maybe you should be the captain if you know so much about what it takes, hm? Maybe instead of passing me your stick to score you could score one once in a fucking while. Maybe,” Steve takes a shaky breath, exhales it right into Eddie’s face. He didn’t even notice how close he was before. “You could start acting like a leader and less like a fuckin’ nuisance.”

Eddie scoffs.

“I’m sorry I helped? Was I supposed to let the opportunity to score go? Would you rather have not tied the game? Do you wish we were going home for the summer instead of just the next few days?”

Steve’s chest is brushing against Eddie’s.

Neither of them showered, so there’s a faint scent of sweat clinging to his nostrils, but Steve must’ve freshened up with deodorant and cologne before getting changed. Cedar and pine overtakes the locker room smell as Eddie’s eyes dart down to Steve’s lips.

“Did you want me to do all the work for you?” Eddie grins.

It’s painful, when their lips crash together. Eddie doesn’t care.

Steve’s mad, he’s loud, and he tastes like victory. It has nothing to do with their game.

“C’mon,” Steve says against his lips, and Eddie isn’t sure exactly what he wants. They’re kissing in public, in a place that could be filled with their teammates any second. Steve’s hands are against his chest, pulling him impossibly closer by his shirt. “More. You want more out of me, take it.”

Eddie’s not always the smartest guy in the room. He’s, like, smart, but sometimes he misses some obvious shit. Unobservant, his uncle calls him.

But he can read people pretty well if he has a second to really see them and he thinks he’s seeing something Steve didn’t mean to show. He knows what Steve’s really asking and he knows he can give that to him.

“No.”

Steve stills. He pulls away, hurt clear on his face before he manages to school his features. It’s eery how quickly he was able to do it.

“Knew you weren’t up for it, anyways,” Steve mutters, but Eddie doesn’t let him walk away.

His grip on Steve’s wrist is tight enough to cut off circulation, tight enough to bruise. Steve doesn’t react at all.

“I’m not taking anything from you. You’re gonna take what you need from me.”

Steve’s brows furrow, and Eddie allows himself a moment— just one— to think that he’s cute like this. If they weren’t teammates, and if Eddie could stand him for more than a few minutes at a time, maybe they could do something.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“No? Like how you didn’t need my stick to score earlier?”

Steve’s mouth snaps closed, but Eddie doesn’t feel as smug as he normally would. He can hear voices coming and he knows that if they leave here now without something worked out, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.

“When we get back, come to my place,” Eddie orders.

“And if I don’t?”

Eddie laughs.

Steve likes to win. He’s gonna come just to see what his prize will be.

He boards the bus and ignores his half-hard dick in his slacks.

Steve always finds a way into his brain. And now he’s found a way into his bed.

~~~~~

The bus ride is quiet, but most of the guys are busy texting significant others and coming down from the adrenaline of the game. The flight is silent, everyone taking a power nap before they have to get back home. They’ll have a day off tomorrow, but most of these guys are married and have kids, or fiancées who haven’t quite figured out that a day off is needed for recovery, not for filling the calendar with other events.

Steve is far away from Eddie, barely even visible unless Eddie leans into the aisle and squints.

He doesn’t do that more than once, doesn’t wanna draw attention to whatever it is that’s happening between them.

Eddie is the first off the plane, but he walks slow enough to his car that a few teammates catch up and tell him his quick reaction saved their asses. He laughs and thanks them, tells them they’ve got some work to do if they’re gonna win the first round, and gets in his car.

Somehow, Steve’s already at his door when he gets home.

“Eager?” Eddie asks.

“You tell me,” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and places it over his crotch. He’s already hard.

“Did you touch yourself on the way here?” Eddie feels like he’s been struck by lightning, energy zapping through him at the speed of light. Realizing Steve’s into this is rewiring his brain.

“Obviously,” Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie unlocks his door and pushes Steve inside. He pushes him down the hall and right onto the bed. He pushes until Steve pushes back.

“I thought I was taking from you,” Steve says as he sits up, taking his shirt off and throwing it to the ground.

“You are. But only when I’m ready to give. I need a second,” Eddie says as he strips his own shirt off. He walks to his bathroom to throw some water on his face and pretend for a second that the sweat dripping down his spine isn’t a ridiculous reaction to Steve.

“It’s been a second!” Steve calls to him.

Eddie smirks at himself in the mirror before heading back to the bed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I assume you’ve got something specific in mind?”

Steve eyes him up and down. “Take everything off.”

Eddie does as he says. Steve’s surprise that he didn’t argue is obvious.

“Get lube and condoms.”

Eddie reaches into his bedside drawer and gets out his unopened bottle of lube and the only three condoms he has that may or may not be expired. He doesn’t have time to fuck around much, and most of the time he does, it never gets far enough to need a condom.

His traitorous stomach swoops at the thought of Steve being inside him.

Steve looks at him like he’s starving and Eddie’s a five course meal on a table in front of him, and Eddie likes it. He likes that Steve wants to devour him.

He’s pulled into a bruising kiss, can taste blood on his tongue when he swallows spit that’s just as much Steve’s as his own. Eddie knows if they kiss like this for long enough, Steve will barely have to touch him at all to get him there.

As if reading his mind, Steve’s hand is on his dick, stroking it slow enough to drive him insane. Eddie blushes, but doesn’t let it hold him back from pushing Steve more.

“You gonna take your clothes off or are the lube and condoms just for decoration?”

Any hand is better than his own, but Steve’s hand might be the death of him. He tightens his grip around him, leaning in to bite Eddie’s collarbone.

He’s sensitive there and somehow Steve knows it, and Eddie might die tonight, but he can’t let Steve know he’s making him feel this fucking good. He wants Steve to take what he wants, but he doesn’t wanna give it easily.

“You like this with everyone or am I special?” Steve asks before he licks a stripe up Eddie’s neck.

It’s gross. It’s hot as fuck. Eddie’s lightheaded.

“Just you, sugar. Or should I call you Captain here, too?”

Steve pulls back like he’s been burned.

“I’m not your captain right now.” He’s glaring at Eddie, making him wish he could shrink into the mattress, down through the floor. “I’m Steve. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eddie’s nodding along, but he feels like he’s teetering into uncharted territory, some kind of rough terrain that most people don’t get past the fence to explore.

Steve starts taking and Eddie lets him.

First, it’s rough hands pushing him around until he’s in the position Steve wants him: face down, arms under the pillows, legs spread so Steve can see him.

Then, it’s teasing touches, laughing when Eddie gasps and moans, nipping at his skin after a soft brush of his fingers.

It’s hot and cold, it’s hard and soft, it’s push and pull.

It’s the first time Eddie feels like he understands who Steve is.

The lube is cold as Steve spreads it around his entrance, more teasing, more taking. Eddie doesn’t mind. He’s always loved the build-up as much as the finale.

Steve’s quiet, focused, as he works his fingers into him. He’s meticulous about it, looking for the best reactions.

When Eddie whines into the pillow, spreading his legs further apart to make more room for whatever Steve wants from him, he realizes that this will change everything. He should’ve realized it sooner. He may regret it tomorrow. He may not.

“You ready?” Steve asks.

Eddie feels empty. Steve’s fingers aren’t there anymore, aren’t stretching him and prodding every sensitive part of him. He whimpers pitifully at the loss.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve’s cock is pushing against his entrance, and Eddie thinks he was severely mistaken about Steve before.

Because why is Steve being gentle? Why is his hand rubbing Eddie’s spine as he pushes into him slowly? Why are his lips against Eddie’s shoulder, not kissing so much as resting there, his hot breath a comfort that he’s right there paying attention to everything Eddie’s doing?

Why is this the best Eddie’s ever been fucked and why does it feel less like getting fucked and more like making love with every passing moment?

Steve’s big, which Eddie knew already. There’s just a difference between seeing it and feeling it. He fills him up, makes him wonder if he’ll be sore tomorrow.

Kind of hopes he will be.

“Take it,” Eddie mumbles against the pillow.

Steve grabs his hair, strong grip, but gently pulling. “What?”

“Take me.”

Eddie’s not sure where those words come from, but he feels the way Steve responds. His cock twitches inside him, his hands grip his waist harder, and Steve moans against his shoulder.

His own cock is trapped against the sheets, but it’s fine. He’s in no rush. Steve will take what he wants and Eddie will wait. He’ll wait all night if he has to.

He feels good like this, at Steve’s mercy.

He didn’t think he’d be able to relax under him. He thought the fight he always has to assert his own dominance with Steve would carry over here, too.

But it’s easy to let Steve have this.

He knows that Steve needs this just as much as Eddie needs to be used.

“You’re quiet. Everything okay?” Steve whispers against his skin. A check-in to make sure Eddie doesn’t need to stop.

“I’m good. Feels good. Keep going.”

The softness never goes away, but Steve’s moving faster, breathing heavier, putting more weight on Eddie’s back. It’s almost too much, the pressure inside him, surrounding him. The scent of Steve, the scent of both of them mingling together and staining his bedsheets.

He’ll have to wash them tomorrow. He won’t.

“God,” Eddie says as he fists the pillow under his head. “Right there.”

Steve’s nailing his prostate, almost more than he can handle. It feels like when they reach their groove on the ice, like despite their disagreements and different styles of play, they’ve meshed together for this moment to make something happen.

“Yeah? You like letting me have you like this?” Steve asks.

It feels out of place here, but Eddie’s allowing it all. If this is what Steve needs, if this will help, then he’ll let Steve have everything.

“Mhm. C’mon, want you to come,” Eddie begs.

He doesn’t want this to be over, though. He finds it shocking how much he wants Steve to keep fucking into him for hours, finding new positions and ways to make Eddie question his existence. He wishes Steve wasn’t wearing a condom, wishes he could fill him up with his cum, plug him up so he stays filled until morning.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking these things. He’s never wanted that with anyone, let alone Steve.

Steve’s hand covers the back of his neck, applies just enough pressure that Eddie knows it would be hard to move.

He’s coming before he even realizes the tug in his belly is there, moaning into the pillow as Steve’s hips meet his ass with every thrust. It’s too much, but Eddie’s giving himself.

That’s all this is.

It’s everything now, but tomorrow it’ll be nothing.

And the day after that, when they have team meetings to review tape for their first round matchup, it’ll be even less than nothing. It’ll be like nothing ever happened and Eddie never let Steve fuck him into his mattress. It’ll be back to tolerating each other for their job, and Eddie poking at him until Steve is riled up and the coach is yelling at both of them to get their shit together.

And then when they inevitably lose in the first round, they’ll go all summer without speaking and Eddie may get traded to a team that will put up with his antics.

Eddie sniffles.

“Eddie? Shit.” Steve pulls out, which is wrong and terrible and not at all what he wants. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

“No,” Eddie’s voice is shaking and he feels stupid. How did this happen? How did he get to this point? Over Steve Harrington? “Sorry, I’m okay.”

“You’re clearly not okay.” Steve turns him over so he’s on his back and that makes everything so much worse.

His release is sticky across his stomach and the head of his cock, and he’s flush from his cheeks to his toes. Tears have fallen, leaving tracks down his face.

He doesn’t paint a pretty picture.

“What’s this about?”

“I didn’t expect this,” Eddie admits.

It can’t hurt. Honesty is only a small vulnerability compared to letting a man fuck you.

“Expect what?”

“This. You to be soft and caring. You don’t even fucking like me. I thought you’d be quick, come on my back, and then find a reason to leave,” Eddie says, covering his face with his hands. It sounds even dumber out loud. Jesus.

“The thought did occur to me,” Steve says.

Eddie peeks through his fingers to see Steve smiling with an eyebrow raised.

“What the fuck is happening.”

Steve snorts. “You threw me your stick during the play so I could score the goal that sealed us a shot at the Cup. I’ve been hard for, like, six hours now, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude while you’re staring at my dick!” Eddie argues.

“You annoy the shit out of me,” Steve rolls his eyes. “More than anyone else I’ve ever played with.”

“Okay. My dick’s already soft, you don’t have to talk me down, Steve,” Eddie groans, covering his face again.

Steve pulls his hands away, laces their fingers together, squeezes. Eddie’s stomach flutters.

“But you’re good. And you know you’re good. That’s why you’re as frustrated as I am about how this season’s been. It has fuck all to do with me being captain, and everything to do with nothing going right for us.”

Steve’s right. He’s always right, even though Eddie rarely acknowledges it.

“Does this kind of talk get you off or should I do something for you?” Eddie tries to joke, to push.

But Steve doesn’t push back this time.

He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in, kisses him soft, so gentle it feels like a whisper of something Eddie’s absolutely terrified to name.

“Let me take a little more,” Steve says against his lips.

He lifts Eddie’s legs and slides back into him, and Eddie moans at the overstimulation. He’s definitely gonna be sore when he wakes up, but he doesn’t mind so much right now.

“That’s it,” Steve groans as he moves in and out, holding Eddie’s legs apart so he can make sure he gets as deep as possible. “Let me have it.”

Eddie’s never come twice like this, without his cock even being touched properly. But here he is, barely even hard again, and cum is leaking onto his stomach as he whimpers his way through another orgasm.

“Fuck, so good.” Steve’s hips stutter as he tenses his hands around Eddie’s thighs. “That’s it, baby. Let me fill you up.”

It’s not real, but for a second Eddie can picture it. He pretends he can feel it inside him, and his cock twitches, but otherwise doesn’t act like it can do anything else tonight.

Steve lets his legs drop as he pulls out, and Eddie winces at the feeling of emptiness it brings.

Eddie closes his eyes, tries to figure out how he’s gonna ask Steve to stay.

“Is it okay if I stick around?” Steve asks before he can think of something.

“Yeah, of course. Shower’s all yours if you want it,” Eddie offers, sounding breathless still. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels like the world around him is spinning.

“You wanna join?” Steve asks him, seriously.

“Showering together doesn’t seem like a teammate thing to do,” Eddie replies.

“Neither is watching a teammate come twice.”

“Point made.” Eddie groans as he turns on his side, reaching a hand out until he makes contact with skin. He thinks it’s Steve's thigh, but he can’t be sure with his eyes closed. “Go on without me. I can’t feel my legs or my…anything.”

Steve doesn’t get up, and he doesn’t say anything. After at least a minute of silence, Eddie blinks his eyes open to see Steve staring at him.

“Are you gonna be fucking creepy all night? I rescind my permission to stay if you are.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s just. I’ve seen you mostly naked so many times, but I never noticed this scar.”

Steve gently brushes a finger across the scar on Eddie’s abdomen. It’s barely an inch in length, and you can’t even see it unless the light hits it just right.

Eddie looks down at it, at the way Steve’s fingertips graze the outer edges. He doesn’t think about it much anymore, but he remembers when it happened.

“Junior hockey. Kid’s skate got me just as I was falling. My chestie rose up too high and didn’t protect the spot,” Eddie shrugs. It could’ve been a lot worse. He was back on the ice within three days. “Accidents happen.”

Eddie watches Steve’s face morph from curious to confused and then shocked.

“That was you?” Steve asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie leans up on an elbow, looks back at Steve as if he’s lost his mind.

“I…holy shit. They never told me the player’s name. Just said he was getting stitches in the locker room and would be fine,” Steve is rambling, gesturing wildly and shaking his head. “They wouldn’t let me check on you. I tried as soon as the game was over.”

“I’m still confused.”

“It was my skate. I tripped over a player’s stick as you were falling. I didn’t even realize it actually hit you until I saw the blood on the ice.” Steve scoots down so he’s eye level with the scar and then he does something that changes Eddie’s DNA.

He presses his mouth to the scar, his lips parting just enough for his hot breath to cause goosebumps to break out across Eddie’s skin.

“Why did you give me your stick?” Steve whispers.

Eddie swallows. He feels heavy, weighed down by whatever this is.

“You had a chance. You just needed a stick,” he whispers back.

“Eddie. You would rather lose than help me any other time.” Steve tilts his head to look up at Eddie. “Why did you pass me your stick?”

“I-” Eddie breathes in. “I wanted to do something right. I wanted you to look at me and not see someone failing for once. I wanted to be good enough to wear the A.”

Steve’s forehead drops to his hip, and it takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s laughing.

“What’s funny about that?” Eddie’s ready to pull away, kind of wants to make Steve leave now that he’s feeling like he’s being made fun of.

“I just cannot believe that you would think you aren’t good enough.” Steve looks back up at him, grinning, eyes shining with amusement. “Who do you think chose you for the A?”

Eddie thinks about it. He always assumed that the coaches just picked the guy with the most NHL experience out of the few options they had. He never thought he’d be A or C material professionally, so he accepted the offer, grateful to be given the chance.

He felt like an idiot for wasting the opportunity this season.

He didn’t produce the way he knows he can, and he let his stupid jealousy of Steve get in the way of everything. It’s not like he wanted the responsibility of being captain. He knows now he probably isn’t cut out for any type of leadership role with the team.

“I thought the coaches?” Eddie frames it as a question because now he isn’t sure.

“They wanted to name Hagan. I suggested you instead.”

Eddie’s breath catches. “You suggested me? Why? You fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Steve raises a brow and gestures at their current state. “I don’t sleep with people I hate.”

“I thought it was spur of the moment! Like you were so mad at me that the only thing you could do to get it out of your system was fuck me!”

Eddie’s head is spinning.

“I mean, it was spur of the moment. I never had any intentions of acting on anything I felt for you.”

Eddie’s head is going to explode.

“Harrington. You’re really making my head hurt. Like, I have never felt this confused after getting fucked.”

Steve laughs, which doesn’t help anything. It almost makes it worse.

He crawls back up so he’s only inches from kissing Eddie.

“I chose you. They said I had to pick someone who would compliment me on and off the ice and you were the first and only choice I could make. You’re an incredible player and the only defenseman I trust on this fucking roster,” Steve leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. “If I’m annoyed with you, it’s because I’m annoyed at myself. I’m making your job harder by losing the room. I don’t even know how it happened.”

“You haven’t lost the room,” Eddie interrupts, placing his hand on Steve’s hip. “They love you. You’re the hero.”

“I don’t wanna be the only guy who comes through, though. I want everyone to succeed.”

“They will. It’s just not our year. It happens. We started off bad and we never got back on track.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “It’s my job to make it work.”

“It’s everyone’s job to make it work. You can’t do it by yourself. They don’t hand Stanley Cups to a player, they hand them to a team.”

Steve smirks. “They do hand them to a player first, though.”

Eddie smacks him. “Don’t argue with me. I’ve had my brains fucked out of my head.”

They stare at each other, both of them smiling fondly.

It’s such a stark difference to everything they’ve been this whole season. Eddie doesn’t know how to handle the electricity between them. He thought it would fade once they were done, once Steve cleaned up and they got dressed. In the morning, he’d leave, and they’d go back to being a mediocre team and he’d probably end up traded or losing the A.

But now, he’s looking at Steve with something he’s pretty sure is affection, maybe even love. It’s ridiculous, which is why he isn’t gonna say anything.

“So, are we good?” Steve asks.

It’s such a jock thing to say. It throws Eddie off yet again.

“Um. Yeah.” He pulls away slightly, considers turning around and getting under the blankets. “We’re good. Hit the showers or whatever.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Eddie has got to figure out how to get a read on this guy. Seriously, the whiplash he’s getting from Steve’s words and actions might break his neck.

“You want to?”

“I don’t kiss people I don’t want to kiss.”

“Alright, then.”

It’s so soft, it practically melts what little brain Eddie has left. He’s not sure he’s ever been kissed like this, like he’s precious and like this moment needs to be cherished.

“Are you still gonna be a bitch?” Eddie ruins it.

Or, he thinks he does. But Steve is just smiling at him, amused, like he wants nothing more than Eddie’s attitude.

“Depends on if you’re gonna keep giving me problems.”

“Oh, so this is like a thing for you.”

“What?”

“You like disciplining me. Oh, this will be so fun.”

Steve shakes his head and falls against the pillows. Eddie turns his own head to smile at him.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says after a minute of just watching Steve exist in his bed.

“You answered yourself.”

“You’re irritating.”

“So are you.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“Everything is a competition,” Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, smirking. “And I’m winning.”

“We’ll see about that.”

[ceesimz]

Booked

TW: Mentions of blood, Ingrid gets injured during a game but it's not too bad.

For the most part, María Pilar León Cebrián thought of herself as a calm and level-headed person in almost all situations. She was only human, there were indeed a few cases where that wasn't the case and even if her friends would never deem her as a calm person overall, she was sure that when the time came she was the model person in emergency situations.

What those one off cases were, you're wondering?

Ingrid. Syrstad. Engen.

All sensibility and composure flew far out the window as soon as Ingrid was involved, and that's where she found herself today.

It was an easy game, some may call it a battering, and Mapi had been subbed out just before the 70 minute mark so that she had somewhat of a rest before the weekend for a Champion's League game. Her performance was good, if not a little boring and easy since the other team had barely stepped a foot in Barça's penalty box, and she had a big, cheesy smile on her face when she saw that Ingrid was being subbed on just as she was coming off. And if Ingrid was annoyed about the two light pats on her ass from Mapi later before the Norwegian sprinted onto the pitch, she would simply say it was just for luck.

However, luck didn't seem to be on Ingrid's side for her quick involvement in the game. All of a sudden, it seemed the scoreline of the match had gotten to the opposing team's heads and before any of the Barça girls could realise, the physicality of the game increased tenfold. There was brutal tackle after tackle, shirt tugs, arm pulls, and risky one-on-ones for headers that saw Ona land horrifyingly on her neck and the player at fault to receive only a yellow for what everyone knew was a malicious and purposeful act. Ona was fine, she stood up after taking a few minutes to come back to herself, before moving to defend another corner as Alexia and a few other players were shouting at the referee who had made countless questionable decisions already.

"We're lucky nobody has been stretchered off yet." Mapi exclaimed to Frido from her seat on the bench, arms tightly crossed across her chest over her puffer coat.

"It's not a surprise though, right." Frido sighed disapprovingly, referring to the situation everyone was frustrated at in terms of the Liga F referees.

"Es tonterías." The Spaniard grumbled, slumping back in her chair as the whistle blew for the corner to be taken.

Her sulk didn't last long, it couldn't, because perhaps the most frightful occurrence of her life carried out right in front of her eyes. The ball curled right into the box where Ingrid was marking the targeted player at the front post, and the Norwegian wasn't able get a clean jump as the player to her side stomped on her foot aggressively. But before she could fall to the ground as a result of the pain of studs being dug into the space just below her ankle, there was an agonising strike to her face.

An elbow smashed against the outward corner of her eye hard, a sharp and sudden pain that immediately caused her to feel sick to the pit of her stomach, overriding any pain in her foot. She fell to her knees with a loud, excruciating scream, one hand immediately coming up to her face as the other clutches desperately at the goalpost beside her that she slumped against. When her hand came into contact with her face, she let out another scream, this one somewhat quieter, as the pain increased due to a nasty gash that stretched up into her eyebrow which stung impossibly more when she touched it. That's when she realised her hand was covered in blood and the sight of it caused her body to weaken as she paled, absolutely not a fan of blood. Her hands fell out in front of her as she kneeled over, side still pressed against the post, and she tipped her head forward to prevent anymore from dripping down her face.

The opposition's counter attack had to be stopped by Jana before the referee eventually blew their whistle. Jana had been subbed on for Mapi earlier and was now fuelled with rage, leading to her delivering an outstanding slide tackle to the player rushing towards her on the halfway line. Everyone will give her her kudos after the game for such a perfect tackle, it really didn't get much better than that, but for now the focus was, rightfully so, on Ingrid.

Alexia, Salma, and a few others had called for the game to be stopped as they rushed over to Ingrid the second she went down, absolutely enraged that a player had suffered not only a possible concussion which should have stopped the game straight away, but also had a gushing cut which was even more reason, if at all needed, for the whistle to be blown. Lucy and Irene were already arguing with the referee as words were ushered to Ingrid, but they were lost on her due to the intense ringing in her ears.

Mapi watched every second of it from the bench. When she saw the initial stamp on Ingrid, she stood from her chair and clutched at the back of the one in front of her as she voiced her outrage at such a blatant act. However, that was nothing compared to the reaction she had when she saw the hit to her girlfriend's face, followed by the stream of red. It was almost the exact same scenario she had gone through a while back, but her fear was about a million times more intense this time around since it was Ingrid. Her Ingrid.

When Mapi went through the same injury, she had been relatively calm when it had happened, and it had stayed that way as the medics attended to her before she was able to go back out onto the pitch. This time? Her emotions ripped through her and swiftly took control of her mind.

Even as Frido tried to hold her back, Mapi raced out of the seating area and onto the sidelines. An endless amount of colourful expletives left her mouth, cussing out the referee and the other team and just about anyone she could think to blame for causing such an avoidable situation. Jona and a few of the other Barcelona staff tried to call her back and stop her from acting out, but it was futile. She needed an outlet for her worries and if disguising her anxiety with anger was the first alternative her panicked mind thought of, she was fine with that. Some rational part of her mind had prevented her from rushing onto the pitch towards Ingrid, but that's about as far as she got.

The match officials came over to her and gave her multiple warnings about her actions but that didn't stop her, nothing would stop her until she knew Ingrid was alright. By now, the medics had made it to Ingrid and were cleaning up her, but Mapi had tunnel vision that she only snapped out of when the referee showed her a yellow card. Not the player that had brutally stamped on Ingrid, not the player that elbowed her, neither of them, the referee chose Mapi instead. The Spaniard could only laugh, and she went to let loose on the figure in front of her again but was stopped by Alexia, who had noticed the situation playing out after she had stepped away from Ingrid.

"Hey! Hey! Step down, stop, Mapi!" Alexia pushed her back off the pitch by her shoulders, the shorter woman not even realising she had gone onto it. "I know you are upset but you will get suspended if you carry on. Cálmate, María, ahora."

"That puta, she h-"

"Oi! I know, I saw it. Ingrid is fine though, just a bit freaked out." Alexia squeezes her shoulders before letting go and pointing over to the Norwegian, who was now sat up with her head being held still by one of the medics whilst the other gently dabs at the wound on her face. "See? She is okay. You can speak to her when she comes off, but for now calm down. This is not something to get suspended over."

"She's okay?" Mapi mumbles quietly to her friend after a moment, a concerned frown on her face as her eyes don't drift from Ingrid's spot on the pitch.

"Yes. You can find out for yourself in a minute." Alexia tells her, hands on her hips as she stands beside her. Mapi nods solemnly, all the fight gone from her, watching on silently.

Ingrid stands up and is met with an applause as she does so, one of the medics carefully lifting the blood-soaked jersey over her head before guiding her to the sidelines. With one eye, she spots an antsy looking María waiting for her and it makes her smile, feeling significantly better than she did a few minutes ago. When she arrives in front of Mapi, the Spaniard hastily unzips her coat and takes it off before draping it over Ingrid's bare shoulders.

"Thank you." Ingrid mumbles to her, grateful for the act as she was a bit cold now that she wasn't running around anymore. Mapi can't get a word out so just nods vigorously at her, something that makes her laugh a little and it's a noise that fills Mapi with relief.

The staff urge Ingrid to sit down in a chair at the back of the dugout and the Norwegian pats the chair beside her for Mapi to sit in, to which the Spaniard does immediately.

"Are you okay?" Mapi asks her breathlessly. Before Ingrid can answer, the cut is shown to her when the medic moves the gauze away from her eyebrow. "Ouch!"

"Why are you saying that?" Ingrid laughs, wincing when the gash is cleaned again with an alcohol wipe.

"Sorry, princesa, it freaked me out." Mapi answers with another grimace, though she looks at the cut quite inquisitively for someone so 'freaked' out.

"What a kind thing to say to your injured girlfriend." Keira said from one of the chairs in front of her, Ingrid giggling as Mapi looked a bit sheepish.

"Eso es un poco repugnante." Vicky comments from beside Keira.

"Oi! That's my girlfriend, nena." Mapi scolds her before turning back to Ingrid and scoffing when the dark-haired woman rolls her eyes.

"Hush, María. You don't need to play the hero." Everyone around falls suspiciously silent around her when Ingrid says that. She squints her eyes at her friends as the medics begin to bandage her up, eyes flicking between each person. "What is going on?"

"Nada." Mapi shrugged, sending what she thought was a sneaky warning glance to her but Ingrid caught it of course. The Norwegian sends a stern look of her own to her teammates, a silent plea for them to tell her whatever she wasn't clued in on.

"Mapi got booked for running her mouth off to the ref when you went down." Keira reveals, Mapi gasping harshly and slapping her shoulder.

"Oi, chivato!" She shouts, before turning back to Ingrid with a grimaced smile. "Sorry?"

"María, why?" Ingrid fixes her with another stern look, but unfortunately for Mapi, ever the childish one, she can't really take her seriously when she's got a comical amount of bandages wrapped around her head, looking like Mr Bump from the Mr Men books. "That was silly, you didn't need to do that. You could have got suspended!"

"I was scared!" Mapi argues, shoulders stuck in a shrug as she held her hands up blamelessly. "I feel better now, now that you're..."

"I'm what?" Ingrid pushes her, knowing that the words about to come out of Mapi's mouth weren't anything along the lines of 'now that you're okay' or 'now that I'm with you'.

"Now that you look really cute with that big bandage." Mapi comments with a mischievous grin, hearing some of the girls and staff around her laugh as Ingrid makes an outraged noise.

"María! I didn't tease you when you had the same bandage!" Ingrid exclaims, nudging her arm.

"I'm kidding, princesa, I'm joking!" Mapi defends herself, placing a hand on her bare knee and the other on her forearm. "Sorry elskling, I am."

Ingrid can't stay annoyed at the older woman for too long, not when she looks equally as adorable when she's begging for forgiveness, not when she's calling her pet names in Norwegian, and not when Ingrid knows she's just trying to lighten the situation and make her feel better. It's why she loves her, after all.

"You are annoying." Ingrid murmurs lovingly, shrugging the coat off and handing it back to Mapi when she gets given a fresh jersey. "Am I good to go back on?"

The medics have cleared her for now and Jona gives her the nod, so she stands but is quickly pulled back by Mapi who grabs her hand.

"Be careful, princesa." Mapi tells her in a soft, pleading voice. Ingrid nods and smiles when Mapi kisses the back of her hand before giving her a shy wave and walking to the sidelines.

Thankfully, the rest of the game goes off without a hitch, no more nasty fouls and not quite so much fury running through the other team. At the end of the game, Mapi joins her team in going through all the post-match procedures like the huddle and handshakes and fan interactions, before following Ingrid to the physio room like a lost puppy.

Before they start to take the bandage off though, Mapi grabs her phone from her coat pocket and makes sure to take plenty of photos of Ingrid with her head wrapped up, something that the Norwegian complains about before swiping the phone out of her hand and sliding it underneath her back where she lay on one of the beds. Mapi pouts dramatically before moving to stand at the top of the bed so that she's out of the way of the medical team.

They go through the process of taking off the bandage before examining it more closely now that they're not stuck in a mid-game rush, deciding that it can be solved with some stitches. Surprisingly, it's not Ingrid whose face pales at that, it's Mapi. But she just gives Ingrid a weak smile when the Norwegian looks up at her, squeezing the taller woman's shoulder comfortingly. Then, Mapi further grimaces when one of the doctors gives Ingrid a tiny injection in her eyebrow to numb the area before they start stitching. The Spaniard has her eyes screwed shut at that point, hand still placed reasurringly on her girlfriend's shoulder, until the doctor says he's done.

He gives the couple space for a while to allow the injection to work, at which point Alexia decides to walk over from where she'd been watching the whole thing, mainly her long-time friend.

"Stitches, no?" Alexia says, wandering over still in her kit except she'd swapped her boots for a pair of sliders.

"Yeah, stitches." Ingrid frowns, not quite a fan of the idea of it.

"You scared?" Alexia wonders, quickly shooting a smug, knowing grin at Mapi.

"Mhm. Mapi wouldn't stop gagging when she was getting her stitches." Ingrid and Alexia share a laugh as Mapi pulls a face at them both.

"That's because Mapi is a gallina. You should have seen her face when they injected your eyebrow, I saw the whole thing." Alexia teases as she looks back at Mapi whose face was now quite red, Ingrid giggling and also gazing up at her embarrassed girlfriend.

"No es justo, Ale." Mapi murmurs, glaring at both women.

"Cheer up, cobarde." Alexia lightly pats Mapi's cheek twice before the doctor comes back in.

"Ingrid, try to raise your eyebrow for me." All three people in the room standing over Ingrid watch amusedly as she tries so very hard to do as she was asked, but to no avail. "Perfect. Let's get started."

Alexia moves to grab a chair and sits on it backwards with her arms crossed over the top edge of it, smirking at the slight fear present in Mapi's eyes. The pair of them stay silent as they watch the doctor stitch up her eyebrow, and when he gets to the last few, Alexia grasps Mapi's hand that was gripping the edge of the bed so firmly her hands hurt.

"Come on, Mapi, you're doing so well, amiga. Nearly done, you're doing so well." Alexia reasurres her friend dramatically, Ingrid bursting out into laughter at the ridiculousness of it. Mapi grunts in frustration and slaps Alexia's hand away, lightly shoving her out of the chair and taking her seat.

The doctor quickly does a once over of his work before asking Ingrid a few questions where he decides she's all done for the night. With a quick thanks, he nods and smiles at the three, then leaves them to it.

"We will have matching scars, princesa." Mapi grins childishly at the thought, Alexia and Ingrid both rolling their eyes.

"Buena, I will leave you both. Make sure to look after her, yes Ingrid? She's a delicate little mariposa." Alexia pouts at Mapi like she's the injured one, pinching her cheek like a baby.

"Vete al diablo." Mapi slaps her thigh once more, then watches as Alexia squeezes Ingrid's hand quickly before bidding them both goodbye and leaving the room.

Mapi turns back to Ingrid who is already looking over at her, heads both at the same height now that Mapi was sat down, and Ingrid had a humoured but adorable look on her face.

"Not you too." Mapi grumbled.

"I did not know you were so squeamish, María. You can't even look at a tiny injection?" Ingrid grins at her, moving to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet grazing Mapi's shins.

"I'm not so perfect after all, princesa, sorry I kept that a secret from you for so long." And just like that, her teasing nature was back.

"Ha ha, Mapi. Very funny." Ingrid rolls her eyes, now in a little bit of pain due to the dark bruising beginning to come out.

Mapi smiles a toothy grin up at her, leaning forward to rest her arms on Ingrid's thighs and rest her chin atop them. Ingrid huffs a breath of laughter and rests back on one hand, the other moving to tuck some of Mapi's hair behind her ear.

"How do you feel?" Mapi wonders, one of her fingers pushing Ingrid's shorts up ever so slightly so that she can stroke her thumb along the soft, tanned skin that's there.

"Tired. I have a bit of a headache." In Ingrid's terms, a bit of a headache meant quite an uncomfortable headache, that Mapi had learnt in the time they'd been together.

"Well, you do not have a concussion which is good. Good for me because then I don't have to tape my mouth shut like last time." They both laugh at the reminder, Mapi simply gazing up at Ingrid. "We will get you some medicine for your head and I will drive home. Are you showering before we go?"

"Mm, no. Can we have a bath at home?" Ingrid asks shyly, and Mapi swears she feels her heart double, triple in size at the sound of her voice.

"If you'd like. Anything for min kjære. Mi princesa."

Sure, maybe Mapi wasn't always a calm and collected woman, but who wouldn't panic when someone like Ingrid was in the face of danger? María Pilar León Cebrián would, that's for sure. She'd happily get booked every game she played if it was for defending Ingrid, even if it Alexia or Jona wouldn't exactly be too happy with that. Because when the sun is staring at you with such a beautiful face, it's hard not to get blinded by it.

[sortanonymous]

Last-Minute NASCAR Cup Playoff Predictions (No visual grid, sorry)

Round of 16 Exits:

Harrison Burton (I'm sorry, but... duh!)

Daniel Suárez (At least my second-favorite Trackhouse driver got in)

Austin Cindric (Penske playoff magic isn't unlimited)

Joey Logano (Please tell me reality sets in for both the Steelers of NASCAR and football this fall!)

Round of 12 Exits:

Alex Bowman (Making it this far would honestly be miraculous considering the dumb off-field distractions)

Martin Truex Jr. (I don't even really care about the title. Just please racing gods, let this legend go out with just one more win after the hell you've put him through these past 14 months!)

Chase Briscoe (SHR's final ride has almost certainly already peaked, but I still can't wait to see Briscoe in the 19 - as long as James Small doesn't waste his prime like he wasted MTJ's twilight)

Ty Gibbs (This last cut was tough, but I think his sneakily solid sophomore season goes no further, unless he can come close to a win anyway.)

Round of 8 Exits:

Denny Hamlin (I was initially on the fence between "It's his time" and "He'll choke again", but that brutal penalty could really be the dagger by this round)

Chase Elliott (Consistency should yield championships, but it unfortunately doesn't in modern NASCAR, so he may fall behind the other win-worthy drivers.)

Brad Keselowski (Maybe I'm high-balling him, but I think Brad has enough recent playoff energy left in him to carry RFK this far, but not any farther.)

Ryan Blaney (VERY close between him and Byron, but while Blaney is coming into these playoffs better than his championship year, I just get the feeling Hendrick will turn it up again and get Byron back to Phoenix. I saw someone call this the modern version of Jummie and Knaus's formula for the Chase, and I think they've got a point.)

Championship 4 and why they could win:

Kyle Larson - Even if this isn't his best season, it feels like a true banner year for Larson as a racecar driver, and with him being just one point away from the Regular Season title even after getting washed away from the most valuable race of the year, he could have a good case to win his second Bill France Cup. (Heck, it looked like he would seal it last year off another clutch pit stop, but unlike in '21, he wouldn't hold on during the final restart.)

William Byron - As said earlier, Byron may be catching onto the same formula the 48 team made a dynasty out of, and even if his championship-caliber season last year didn't end on a high note, his past success at Phoenix could be enough to put the legendary 24 car in championship lane for the first time in 23 years.

Tyler Reddick - Moving onto my two real championship contenders, Reddick made a heck of a late charge to win the Regular Season title on fumes (albiet with a little help from Mother Nature in Indy), and being arguably the best driver in Cup this year, he should be able to get over the hump and get 23XI to not just its first Championship 4 berth, but perhaps the first championship ring of any kind in decades for both of its very differently decorated owners. (Maybe its last Final 4 berth though considering this charter drama that I already lost track of like four months ago.)

Christopher Bell - Chalk it up all you want to bias for who will, after a certain retirement, soon become my second-favorite driver, but not only has Bell been insanely clutch in the playoffs as of late (he's damn near NASCAR's Mr. October at this point), but if the October Bell indeed rings all the way to Phoenix, he'll be in his paradise of the kind of flat tracks he's been so good at. (Legit, he may be the only person in the world who isn't a NASCAR executive that wants Phoenix to stay as the championship track, even if he's had championship success at Homestead in lower divisions.) Yeah, he lost his first two Final 4 berths, but those were respectively due to an OP Logano car and his tire becoming a nuke just as the race got going. Considering how he's already had his best season so far, he may have just enough to secure the 20 team (and in fact any JGR ride not driven by Kyle Busch) their first Cup title in nearly two decades. (It'd be especially since SHR's closing may mean the end of the last #20 car champion's 26-year involvement in NASCAR, as if Smoke really seems to care about that.)

And my pick for 2024 NASCAR Cup Series Champion is...

Christopher Bell! (Reddick was really close, but the Phoenix factor could be the difference. No, I'm just high on hopium after one of my two favorites collapses out of a playoff spot and the other is on pace to easily the saddest final season and a half of any Hall-of-Famer (present or future) that didn't die on the track.)

Now watch as these age like milk and the Wood Brothers win their first(?) ever Cup with a driver they issued a pink slip to months ago! 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Yeosang: Soulmate (oneshot)

Genre: Angst, fluff, idol au, soulmate au.

Pairing: Soulmate!Yeosang x Reader (fem) / Yeosang x idol!reader

Warnings: none.

In this world, everyone has a soulmate. Most people give up on trying to find their soulmate, while some travel the world just to find that one special person.

Each person has different indicators that a person is their soulmate; in your case, every mark your soulmate gets on his skin appears on yours, like a burn scar, bruise, or a cut. You didn't have the same moles, freckles, or birthmarks, and if he drew something on his skin, it wouldn't appear on yours; basically, anything that changes an area of the skin that can't be easily or instantly undone, will show up on your skin. Luckily, you couldn't feel the pain from it, you could only see it.

"Y/N, you're next," your group's makeup artist said to you, making you get up from the sofa. You sat on the chair, allowing her to work on your face while you listened to some music. After everyone in your group got ready, you went on stage. You were the leader of your group, so you had to talk before the performance.

-

Ateez had just finished performing and were currently watching your group from the TV in their waiting room while they had some refreshments.

Yeosang wasn't paying much attention as he was really tired... that was until he noticed the burn scar on your finger while you talked: it was the exact same burn scar as his that he got two days ago while helping Wooyoung cook. He got up from the chair, moving closer to the TV to check if it was really the same. He mentally cursed when you gave the mic to another member, cause now he couldn't see your hands anymore.

"What's wrong, Yeosang?" Hongjoong asked.

"Hyung, she has the same scar as me," he replied, showing the scar on his finger, shocking some of the members. "I'm not sure if it's exactly the same."

"Wait, wait, wait," Wooyoung took out his phone; he had already found his soulmate, so he was sure this was a sign. He immediately searched for images on Twitter. When he found a picture of a bruise that you had on your knee, he showed it to Yeosang. "Didn't you have the same bruise last month?"

Yeosang's eyes widened. "No way... this can't be true."

"You don't look very happy for someone who just found out who their soulmate is," Yunho commented.

"That's cause I'm not," Yeosang said through gritted teeth. "I hate this whole soulmate bullshit. I'd rather genuinely fall in love with someone than have the universe choose that someone for me."

None of the guys questioned Yeosang, knowing it was not the best time to talk to him about it; however, they really hoped he would change his mind soon.

-

After your group's performance ended, you all started filming for your behind the scenes content. Today, you all had a challenge to do: your six-member group was split into two teams, and one member from each team had to visit five other groups/soloists in the building to play a round of rock, paper, scissors, and the team who gets the least wins would face a penalty that would be shown on the next vlive. You and one of your members, Aeji, decided to volunteer for it.

After finishing the first four groups, you went to Ateez's waiting room which was at the end of the corridor. Aeji knocked on the door and Ateez's manager opened it. She explained what you both were here for, and he agreed to let you film with them.

You entered the room, bowing to the eight men.  "Hi! I'm Y/N and this is Aeji, we have a small challenge to do here. Could one of you play rock, paper, scissors with us?" You noticed how some of the boys glanced at Yeosang who was staring at your hands. As soon as you made eye-contact with Kang Yeosang, you felt something unexplainable in your heart, making you gasp in shock. Your vision became blurry and your head started spinning, making you clutch your head with your arms in hope of getting the spinning to stop.

"Y/N?! Y/N, are you all right?" you heard Aeji ask, but her voice seemed so far away.

Your head started spinning even faster, causing you to faint.

"Fuck!" Aeji kneeled down, putting your head on her lap while Ateez's staff got some water for you. They sprinkled some water on your face, but you didn't respond. "Oh god, what suddenly happened? She was fine minutes ago," Aeji mumbled to herself, but everyone heard her.

"Yeosang, do something," Wooyoung said. "Maybe she'll respond to you."

Aeji glanced at them in confusion.

"I'm not doing shit," Yeosang said. "You know I don't like this whole soul—"

"I'm sorry, but what are you guys talking about?" Aeji questioned.

"Y/N is Yeosang's soulmate," San stated, making the older man glare at him for exposing him.

Aeji's eyes widened. "Oh, is that so? Well, then do something, please. I don't know what made her faint."

"Well, from what I know, she passed out cause she has seen and been in the same area as Yeosang, but never realized he is her soulmate. The intensity of not knowing but being so close probably caused her to pass out," Hongjoong explained.

You could hear everything, but you just weren't able to open your eyes.

"Hyung, touch her cheek or something," Jongho suggested.

Yeosang hesitated for a few seconds before he sighed, kneeling beside you. He placed his hand on your cheek, gently cupping it, stroking your skin with his thumb. Even though he hated the whole soulmate thing, he couldn't deny that you were absolutely stunning; he had never seen anyone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes slowly opened, immediately landing on Yeosang's beautiful brown ones. Time seemed to have frozen at that moment, and your heart filled with happiness. It was obvious to you that he was your soulmate; you were thrilled about it as you always wanted to find your soulmate, and you always found Yeosang unique whenever you saw him at shows.

"I-I have to go," Yeosang murmured before standing up and leaving the room, leaving you confused. Why didn't he look happy?

-

"Kang Yeosang from Ateez is my soulmate," you told your members. They all were happy for you, except Aeji.

"Y/N, I don't think Yeosang is as thrilled as you," Aeji mumbled. "Jongho told me that Yeosang hates the whole soulmate thing."

"Oh, my brother hated all that too, but after he found his soulmate, he loved it," one of your members said with a small smile.

"Then let's hope Yeosang is the same, hmm?" Aeji said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You really hoped everything would go well.

-

"Um, hey, can we talk privately?" you asked Yeosang, standing outside Ateez's waiting room. He rolled his eyes, but followed you to the rooftop of the building.

You gave him a small smile. "So, uh—"

"Look, Y/N," he started in a cold tone. "I don't care if we're soulmates according to the universe or whatever shit it is. Neither do I want a soulmate, nor do I need one. I'd rather find someone who genuinely loves me for who I am, not because of some hideous so-called soulmate bond." You just kept quiet, unsure of what to say while your heart ached terribly. 

"So just move on, yeah?" he continued, staring at the clouds moving in the blue sky. "I'm sure you'll find someone who will genuinely love you." He glanced at you before leaving you all alone on the rooftop with a shattered heart.

You always wanted to find your soulmate. You wanted to experience being madly in love with the person you're fated to be with till death. But how could you do any of that when your soulmate doesn't even want you? You wondered how it was so easy for him to break your heart. Was your bond really that weak?

You sighed, blinking away the tears from your eyes. You can't and won't force your soulmate to love you back, so you should probably take his advice and try to move on.

-

"Wow, Yeosang, didn't know you were getting some action," San said with a smirk, confusing the man who had just finished showering.

"What are you saying?"

"No need to act oblivious, we all can see it," Wooyoung said.

"I pity our makeup artist," Seonghwa commented.

Yeosang raised an eyebrow.  "What the hell are you guys talking about?"

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "The hickey on your neck, obviously."

Yeosang's eyebrows furrowed. He checked his reflection in the mirror, eyes widening at the big hickey on his neck and one below his collarbone.

"It's on Y/N," Yeosang said through gritted teeth, feeling extremely annoyed and hurt. His heart ached terribly. He wanted to see you right now, but it was nearly impossible. Both his and your group's promotions ended two weeks ago, and there was no way he could meet you anywhere outside due to paparazzi. He didn't even have your number.

"You look... pissed," Jongho stated.

"Well, yeah, my soulmate is fucking another man," Yeosang spat before sitting on the large couch in the living room of the dorm, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

Yunho raised an eyebrow. "Do you expect her to wait for you when you literally told her to move on?" he asked in disbelief. "And now that she has, you're pissed? That's unfair."

Yeosang sighed, remembering every word he told you. He knew Yunho was right.

"I know, but... I just can't do this anymore. The bond is torturing me. A-And," his voice cracked as tears swelled up in his eyes. "I love her. I really love her, soulmate or not."

Wooyoung sat beside Yeosang, wrapping his arms around him, letting his bestfriend cry on his shoulder. Everyone could only hope it wasn't too late for Yeosang.

-

"Yeosang... it's been a week. You need to come out of your room," Seonghwa murmured, kneeling beside Yeosang's bed.

"I don't feel like doing that, hyung."

Seonghwa sighed. "We have to practice for the award show tomorrow. Our manager won't let you miss practice for the third time."

Yeosang groaned, putting his blanket over his head. "Can't I miss it? Can't our company say I'm sick?"

"Absolutely not," Ateez's manager said, entering the room. "You might win a big award tomorrow. And there's a large audience, you could draw a lot of attention. Besides, Y/N's group will be there." Yeosang instantly removed the blanket from his head at the mention of your name.

"She'll be there?"

"Yeah, the final lineup got confirmed an hour ago."

-

Yeosang leaned in close to Jongho. "When is our break?" he whispered in Jongho's ear.

Jongho groaned. "Hyung, this is the eighth time you've asked me that in less than half an hour."

Yeosang glanced at where your group was seated; unfortunately, one of your members was covering you, so he couldn't see you. He sighed, shifting his eyes back on the group that was currently performing while he tried his best to wait patiently.

As soon as all artists were given a break, he rushed to your group's waiting room. He found only half of your members there.

"Hello," he bowed. "Where is Y/N?"

"She's in the bathroom on the second floor."

Yeosang rushed there as fast as he could, ignoring the stares he was getting from other artists and staff.

"Y/N!" he yelled once he saw you leaving the bathroom, causing you to turn around.

Yeosang now stood right in front of you, panting from the run. Your heart raced at the sight of how ethereal your soulmate looked tonight, especially in his black suit and newly dyed black hair. He was absolutely stunning.

"Can we talk, please?" Yeosang asked anxiously, hope clear in his beautiful eyes.

You couldn't say no, even though you should've. You simply nodded your head, letting him drag you to the emergency staircase in the building.

You leaned back against the wall, waiting for him to say whatever he wanted to. You noticed how he was fidgeting with his fingers while he leaned against the railing of the staircase.

"Are you okay?" you asked in concern. Your soulmate sighed, taking a few steps towards you.

"Can I hold your hand?" he questioned. When you nodded, he took your hands in his, gently rubbing circles on the back of it while he tried to calm down by taking deep breaths.

"I love you, Y/N," he confessed. "I just... can't stand the thought of you being with anyone else. It kills me to even think of it. I know I was a jerk before and I know you've moved on, but I—"

You cupped Yeosang's cheek before capturing his lips with your own, surprising him; he couldn't believe you were kissing him after everything he said. He kissed you back, his heart beating rapidly like yours. The soulmate bond between the two of you strengthened, causing a euphoric feeling.

You pulled away with a smile that grew wider when you saw how stunned and happy Yeosang was.

"I tried to move on," you explained. "But I couldn't. Not when my heart, my soul, belongs to you. I love you, Kang Yeosang."

Yeosang chuckled happily, leaning in to kiss you passionately. His heart swelled with happiness and he mentally thanked the universe for bringing the two of you together as soulmates.

[utilitycaster]

Skill Proficiencies are the Bedrock on Which the Success of a D&D Party Rests, Monks are  a Utility Class, and Other Correct Opinions

This came up when I was thinking about the Cobalt Soul subclass and the discussion thereof, especially the dismissive way in which people sometimes treat the mystical erudition feature. I am also a bard player, in my longest-running game, and I prefer utility classes in general, so I decided to write a whole essay that maybe like 5 people will appreciate, two of whom are in my inbox (thanks for the encouragement, @ayzenigma and @agigabyte and one of whom is me.

In D&D, on a fundamental level, this is what happens:

A DM describes the world

You decide to interact with the world in some way

The DM decides if you automatically can do what you want, if you automatically can’t do what you want, or if there are a range of possible outcomes. If the last option, roll a d20.

The DM narrates what happens when you act or fail to act, ie, describes the new state of the world; the cycle begins anew.

The vast majority of those d20 rolls will be skill checks. Some will be combat rolls, which are a whole other thing, but most will be skill checks. Some will be incredibly important skill checks. Some will be relatively minor. Sometimes you’ll be aware of how important the roll is; sometimes you will not. Spells can sometimes guarantee or improve the chances of a success, as can some class abilities; but those are finite resources, and in the end a lot of D&D is resource management, and many of the choices you make in interaction are going to be influenced by what resources you have left.

Consider: the party comes upon a door with a single lock. The party is D&D four-person-party classic: a mage archetype, a thief archetype, a healer archetype, and a strength-based battler archetype.

The mage can cast knock to open the door. This does guarantee success, but it’s extremely loud and will not only alert anyone nearby but also uses a second level spell slot. They may be able to get around this if they or the healer also casts silence, depending on how you play it*, but that’s either another spell slot gone, or ten minutes wasted.

The battler can, for free, either kick down the door or attack it. This is also going to be very loud unless silence is employed, they might choose to use a finite resource (a once a day weapon ability, a rage) and even if this itself doesn’t alert anyone on its own, the big hole where a door should have been, or even the smashed keyhole, probably will.

The thief can, for free, pick the lock. Assuming they are specifically a rogue, because of their class build there is a very high chance of success, and specifically a high chance of quick, quiet, secret success even without additional help. And if they fail, well, the other options still exist and only a small amount of time has been lost.

Things like a single rage, or a second level spell slot, don’t seem like much on their own, but that is the other thing about D&D: usually you go to bed with some things left in the tank, but occasionally you do not, and as the resources get into the red line it is not terribly difficult to get into a death spiral of throwing your limited resources at a problem too large to be solved by them. When you’re in a game where, mechanically, there is no difference between having 100 hit points left and having 1 hit point left, but there is a vast chasm between having 1 left and having none, that extra second level slot worth of healing or damage can mean everything.

Or: at levels 5 through 8, with a cleric, the difference between an ally’s life and potentially permanent death is whether the cleric is left standing with one third level spell slot at the end of a battle.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t use spell slots to achieve things, especially if they’re important; just that there’s a balance, and sometimes a single good thieves’ tools check, investigation check, or persuasion check makes just as much of a difference in terms of the party’s success as a high level spell, even though it’s far less flashy.

The game designers realize this. Older versions had the idea of taking ten: if time is not of the essence and there is no significant penalty for failure, you could take ten and guarantee an average job (which does still require some skill proficiency to take that assumed roll of ten to “pretty good”). This still remains in 5e in the form of passive checks. It’s a core element of the rogue and bard classes that they are people who are highly skilled - both have more skills than most classes and access to expertise, which significantly increases their proficiency bonuses and therefore reduces the chance of failure - and both have additional class features that either improve the breadth (jack of all trades for bards granting them partial proficiency in everything) or depth (reliable talent for rogues granting them a guaranteed average job) of those skills. Frequently, and especially for bards, this is not seen as a significant help, possibly because it rarely comes up in combat. This is wrong.

Here’s the thing: combat takes a long time at the table but in terms of what the party is doing, two minutes of combat a day (20 rounds, total) would be considered an incredibly difficult day. The rest of the time, you’re not in combat.

Here’s the other thing: how did that combat happen? Did it happen because someone failed a check - that a better stealth roll or deception check, perhaps made by someone with expertise in one of those two areas, could have prevented? Or if this conflict was inevitable or necessary, was the party able to use that stealth or deception to get a surprise round? Investigation, nature, arcana, or history to know a little bit more in advance about what they’re about to face? Perception or survival to even find the enemy they need to stop? Persuasion to gain an ally? All of these can make the difference between a success and a failure.

When you come to the end of a long-running D&D game, you will probably think back a lot to combat moments and RP moments, and unless it was one of those few clutch ability checks where you knew how momentous it was at the time you probably won’t think back to the dozens of locks picked without issue, or social encounters navigated with relative ease, but they’re going to be there, and you would have felt the strain without them.

This isn’t limited to skill checks, honestly; it’s a problem with almost all so-called fluff/flavor abilities. It’s interesting, in that the words we use to describe a well-built character are themselves quite neutral in terms of the specific build (min-maxed, optimized) but in practice many people assume these fit into one of two categories: the tank, or the glass cannon. Of course, those are combat-specific abilities, and see above with regards to combat. And maybe you are in a D&D game that is very much about combat and combat only, but if you’re not, that so-called fluff is far too dismissive of utility.

And monks, in particular, are more of a utility class than one would expect. Sure, they get a lot of attacks and they’re sort of tanks of the ‘too fast to hit’ variety and they can stun, but monks are utility in a negative-space sort of way.They don’t need your buffs, and a monk in your party, like a rogue who can pick locks or a bard who can talk their way out of trouble, saves your resources. They are incredibly fast, and don’t need longstrider or jump cast on them. They don’t need feather fall or fly because they run up walls and avoid falling damage. They don’t need to be healed, if they just catch the arrows that were shot and evade the area of effect spell; they don’t need a magic weapon (or any weapon); they don’t need a restoration to end effects, they don’t need protection from poison or disease, they save you the need to cast comprehend languages or tongues, they’re less likely to need a buff to help them save against other effects, eventually they don’t even need food or water. A monk, like a skill check, helps the party by saving finite resources. The Cobalt Soul build merely makes it a little more literal by granting the monk themselves the ability to make those skill checks.

In conclusion: skill checks are cantrips that everyone gets, and if a class got 8 cantrips when most others got 4, and they had an extra bonus to hit, you’d absolutely notice.

*per a quick search it’s up for debate based on the ranges of the respective spells and whether the lock needs to ‘hear’ the spell or not and anyway if this is what you choose to fixate on in this essay I cannot stress this enough: you have the reading comprehension of a slime mold and the sense of relevance of a Republican congressperson.

[bbangsoonie]

tangerine guesthouse

member: haknyeon genre: fluff word count: 2,238 synopsis: on a healing trip to jeju island, you meet a guesthouse owner who goes the extra step to make sure you enjoy your stay.

a/n: happy birthday to our jeju boy, juhaknyeon ! 🍊

After impulsively quitting your job, you packed a suitcase and booked a last minute flight to Jeju Island. You wanted to escape but unfortunately didn’t have enough money for an international flight. So you found yourself flying over on a domestic plane.

Everything about this journey was spontaneous. The money you saved up on the side from your tedious 9-5 job was all spent on this healing trip. With nothing but a camera in your hands, you were determined to finally rest and have fun for once. You hadn’t had the luxury to do so in years.

Before you left Incheon Airport, you reserved a room at a random bed and breakfast you found online. “Tangerine Guesthouse”. It had a cute name.

The taxi dropped you off in front of the place and you cautiously walked in with your bag rolling behind you. You peaked inside the building, unsure if you were supposed to just enter.

“Hello!” a chirpy voice greeted you. Startled, you jumped as you turned around to face the person who nearly gave you a heart attack. Seeing him only made your heart beat faster. He was cute. Extremely cute.

“Are you here to rent a room?” he asked.

“Y-Yes, I made a reservation a couple of hours ago,” you pulled out your phone to show him the details.

“Ah, Y/n! Yes, welcome,” he beamed. “My name is Juhaknyeon but please call me Haknyeon.”

You reached out to shake his hand and were surprised to feel how soft they were.

“Allow me to show you to your room,” he said before guiding you upstairs.

The room was fairly small but cozy. It had everything you needed and made a cute space for photos. After Haknyeon left, you began to unpack.

You heard a knock on the door and mindlessly told your guest to come in. You looked up when they entered, surprised to see another male.

“Hello! I’m Sunwoo and I’m staying in the room next to yours,” he introduced himself. “I just wanted to stop by to say hi and get friendly.”

“Nice to meet you, Sunwoo. I’m Y/n,” you smiled.

“The other guests and I are gathering this evening to just chat over beer. Would you like to join us as well? We’d love to have you,” he said.

On a normal occasion, the introvert in you would have declined. However, you were on a healing trip and resolute about trying new things. So you happily accepted the invitation and promised to meet them in the yard at 7.

You had about four hours until then and decided to kill time by exploring the neighborhood. You enjoyed the change in scenery and the fresh air that Seoul could not offer.

You found yourself alone at a nearby beach and embraced the solitude. There were no managers yelling at you about deadlines or coworkers passive aggressively criticizing your work here. It was just you and the roaring waves. Grabbing your camera, you took a few shots of the salty sea. Perhaps you would return to your hobby and pursue photography.

You allowed yourself to consider it as an option as you headed back to the streets to look for a restaurant. You settled for the closest one and were satisfied with your choice when you took a bite of their seafood ramen.

You roamed around a bit more after the meal. You came across a souvenir shop and ended up spending a lot of time—and money—there. You certainly had a thing for cliche souvenirs. Keychains, magnets, mugs. You loved them all.

You came back to the lodging with a bag full of trinkets you knew you would keep instead of gifting. The retail therapy added a bounce in your walk as you climbed up the stairs. You organized them accordingly as you happily hummed.

You looked at the clock and saw that it was time to convene with the rest of the boarders. You threw on a cardigan before going back outside.

Haknyeon was by the grill flipping meat and Sunwoo was busy taking out the drinks from the fridge. You awkwardly stood around, not knowing where to go.

“Take a seat wherever you want,” Sunwoo called out.

Finding an empty spot, you sat down and looked around. The yard was decorated nicely to bring a nice ambiance.

“Hi, I’m Eric and this is Hyunjoon,” the guy next to you grinned.

You exchanged greetings with the two and introduced yourself. You had to admit it was nice to meet such amiable people.

The night went by with the five of you conversing over black pig samgyupsal and alcohol. Haknyeon was a big foodie, Sunwoo was a big tease, Eric was a big dork, and Hyunjoon was a big sports enthusiast. Hyunjoon came to Jeju to enjoy horseback riding and planned on dragging Sunwoo and Eric along.

“If you guys are down for some physical activity, I can destroy you in badminton,” Haknyeon suggested.

“Loser has to down a bottle of soju. Each,” Eric laughed evilly.

To make the teams fair, you were paired up with Haknyeon to play against the other three. He definitely proved his worth as the ace, easily winning 21-12. Sunwoo let out a scream, blaming Eric for his punishment suggestion. The latter tried to run away but was caught by Hyunjoon who handed him a bottle.

They all retreated to their rooms after fulfilling their penalty, leaving you and Haknyeon to clean up. The work was done relatively quickly and you made it back to your bed before midnight.

The next morning, you came out of your room clutching your Ryan doll that doubled as a pillow. You mumbled a “good morning” to Haknyeon who was preparing breakfast and chuckled at your appearance.

“Cute,” he commented on your tastes. You replied with a yawn, still not fully awake.

“The guys are probably gonna be hungover so I’m making some soup. I hope that’s okay with you,” he said.

He rolled up his sleeves before washing his hands. He then grabbed a knife and began cutting the vegetables. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of onions. You had forgotten to mention how picky you were. It was an embarrassing conversation to have as an adult. You had to explain how your childish tastebuds never matured while people let out an incredulous gasp. It was something you had to disclose every time you ate with someone new and it was honestly pretty tiring. People didn’t understand that you didn’t choose to be picky. Your tongue just refused the tastes of a lot of foods. It was more inconvenient for you than anyone else.

Nevertheless, you were excited to try the food made by the self proclaimed food connoisseur. You would just have to pick out the vegetables later.

The two of you decided to just eat together after the guys refused to wake up before noon. Haknyeon took a seat in front of you after he set the table and you thanked him.

To your relief, he didn’t seem so shocked by your childlike palate. He let the conversation end by saying something about respecting other people’s preferences.

Noticing your hair falling in front of your face, he got up to go look for something. He returned with a hair tie which he offered to you. It was just a courteous gesture but it still made you giddy regardless. The hair tie was probably just a spare left by previous guests but to you, it was a token. Something to remember him by.

“So, Y/n, what brings you to Jeju?” he questioned.

You’ve heard your name before many times in your life. Obviously. But hearing it from his voice felt different. The way your name rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh you know, just the typical “I wanted to get away from the city” trope,” you hummed.

“Classic,” he nodded.

After breakfast, Haknyeon volunteered to be your tour guide for the day. He showed you his favorite places in town and even drove further out to take you to the photo exhibition you wanted to see. You had a blast, taking a bunch of pictures to commemorate your trip.

When he asked why you used such a fancy camera and why you took photos of everything, you simply shrugged in response. Truthfully, you didn’t know why either.

For lunch, he brought you to a sashimi place where you bonded over a large platter of raw fish. Both the view and quality of the restaurant were amazing. And your company too, of course.

“Do your guests always get such personalized treatment?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Honestly? No,” he laughed. “I’m not that great of a host. Nor do I have the time and money to.”

“Then what’s all this? Today?”

“Hmm… I’m not quite sure.”

You left it at that and let him take you to an aquarium. Haknyeon had more fun watching you than looking at the animals. You were like a little kid in a candy store. Everything was fascinating to you.

The last time you visited an aquarium was for a field trip when you were in elementary school. It felt like you were going back to your childhood roots.

You made it back to the guesthouse in time for dinner. This time, you insisted on cooking. With the ingredients left in the fridge, you made kimchi fried rice. The smell lured the others down to join you two in the kitchen.

The rest of the night was rather uneventful, which you appreciated. You got to relish time just passing by. It was exactly what you came to Jeju for.

Back in your room, you connected your camera to your laptop to browse through the photos. Looking at them, you noticed that Haknyeon was in half of them.

“Maybe it was him I wanted to save in my memory,” you whispered under your breath.

Another week went by and you wished time would flow slower. Hyunjoon was the first to leave the guesthouse and it already felt a lot emptier without him. You hated goodbyes. You hated how all good things had to eventually come to an end.

The feeling made you cherish the remaining time you had left on the island. You spent your evenings with the guys and frequently chatted in the group chat with all five of you in it. You never expected to grow so fond of strangers you barely got to know. Haknyeon, in particular, had a special place in your heart.

He often took you out on what you liked to believe were dates. Under the guise of being your tour guide, he showed you the hidden parts of his hometown. Though he was slightly disappointed that your favorite thing from all the menus you’ve tried was the black sesame frappuccino from Starbucks.

“Really? Of all the things you’ve eaten and drank, you choose something from a chain store?” he had whined.

“Hey, they only have it here. I can’t get it anywhere else,” you defended.

He made it his mission to find you something local that would triumph over your love for the Starbucks drink. A close second was the makgeolli made and sold only in Jeju.

By the time Sunwoo and Eric left, you and Haknyeon had gotten extremely close. With him, it was so easy to open up and just be you. You practically lived in his room. You slept over after late night movies and cuddles.

Neither of you ever verbally defined your relationship. You were both somewhat afraid to ask what exactly you two were. Instead, you focused on each other.

“So you’re picking up photography again?” he asked with your head resting on his chest. The two of you were lazing around on the couch with a random show on for background noise.

“Possibly. It was always an interest of mine. I thought I’d get to have it as a side-job once I started working full time but I never got around to it. Trying to make a living was a lot harder than I thought it’d be,” you revealed.

“You definitely have the talent. I think you should take the opportunity and go for it,” he encouraged.

The idea lingered on your mind as the second week flew by. Your passion for photography had been pushed to the side as you struggled as a paycheck worker. You missed taking up odd gigs for extra cash in college.

On your last night at the guesthouse, you paused in the middle of dinner to stare at Haknyeon. The more time you spent with him, the more you didn’t want to leave. Changing your career path because of a guy was crazy. Moving to an island because of said guy that you only met two weeks ago was even crazier. But he inspired you to do what your heart desires. And that included being with him.

“What if I moved here to start freelancing? Publish that photography book I always dreamed of. Maybe set up my own studio one day,” you pondered aloud.

That proposition had many implications about the relationship between you two. He took a moment to carefully contemplate over it. Your heart pounded waiting for his response.

“If that’s what you truly want to do, I think that’d be nice,” he smiled, making your own face light up.

a/n: wow i was reminiscing my own time at jeju while writing this 🥺 and now, with this fic, i have officially written for all tbz members! :)

[itsmaddienotmaddy]

Okay I was just fucking stressed out of my mind for a full ninety. Idk if I have a lot to say. Let’s SEE.

US V SWEDEN

Alyssa Angel Naeher - maaaaaybe should not have come out on that corner kick. And since she did, unsure why no defender chose to cover the line. They weren’t covering that tall ass Swedish player, so... they were free to. (Not like they would have guaranteed to save it, but there could have been an attempt.) I wouldn’t place the blame of that goal on Alyssa’s shoulder though. Especially because we would have been down by a lot more if not for her incredible saves.

Becky - got the captains armband back too late. She connects better when she’s left-central. It’s been like that most times Tierna slots in. Not much to say beyond that though. Like, she did the defense. As she does.

Tierna - a big test for her. Her clearances were good. She held people wide very well. I didn’t find myself yelling about her a lot, idk if she just wasn’t as involved or what. Either way. Love me some Baby T.

Crystal - held it down defensively. That’s never a surprise. The lack of connection between her Lindsey and Christen, the connection that WAS THRIVING before. Wasn’t there. Like. When Crystal was making the run, she wasn’t getting passes. And then the passes would come and she wasn’t making the run. But nice to see her get some minutes up top too!! Would have liked to see her be able to get some moves going.

Kelley - well Alexi Lalas kept saying how poor she did. She wasn’t balls to the wall amazing but it’s not like she was sucking out there. She was definitely committing too hard, biting at moves she shouldn’t have. The lunges had her a step behind, she needed to play some stand up defense. I’ve said time and time again, her and Lynn do not connect well and the offense on the right was non existent all first half unless Rose decided to carry the ball up the field. Kelley DID have some decent crosses, as per usual. And let’s be real. We all know it was slightly outside the box, but Kelley earned the foul. So, g’bless that little sock puppet peach. Driving the box and getting that penalty saved our score line.

Rosemary - I mean. She was DOING THINGS. Thank goodness. Her speed was on point today. She was running the ball down the field, breaking through lines, and she had that cracker of a shot. It’s a bummer that she came off since she was such a bright spot. But with the physicality of the game, you needed bodies to take up space and bulldoze and that’s exactly what a midfield of JJ, Lindsey, and Sam is good for.

Julie - a lot of defensive work for her this game, a few times there was a lack of communication with her and Kelley, but still pretty solid. Certainly lacking offensively, but got a couple good crosses off, won some good balls out of the air.

Lindsey - her and Aslani duking it out with each other was cute, ex-teammate fun. Certainly had bright spots throughout the game. Had really good spells of controlling the midfield, but her weighted balls and the angles of her passes through were off today. And she wasn’t given the opportunity to win offensive headers in the box. Like hello. Big giant scoring target. Would have been a good plan. Still had some silky moves, switched the side of play as to not overload, was always open for an outlet pass. Would have liked to see a bigger motivation to get a shot off. And to reiterate. Again. Her Christen and Crystal need to get back on their vibes.

Samantha - I don’t know if it would have made a difference if we had her in from the start, but it sure was a relief seeing her come onto the field. I think I was getting food during her one attempt on goal, so missed that. But never fully settled into the game. So that’s no fun. She’s been in spectacular form and I wish we could have utilized her sooner. How? Idk. Maybe a 4 person midfield? Coulda shoulda woulda.

Kristie - what position did she even come in as??? I was so confused. Not enough time to say much. But it really speaks to the US offensive productivity that Kristie got two shots on goal in her minimal time. Would have been rad AF if one of those chances had gone in.

Carli - 300 caps is cool. Credit where credit is due. But I just about lost my mind. Shots to the moon. Falling every time she got touched. Offsides. Heavy, heavy touches and lost possessions. This was not a game to celebrate for her and that’s too bad. Leaving her in that long was rough. AND the one time she should have been selfish and shot the ball, THAT WAS WHEN SHE PASSED. I could not deal.

Lynn - Gosh I want good things for Lynn. But today was not her day. She was lost out there and her decision making on when to turn on the wheels and when to make cuts and crosses, it wasn’t there. She wasn’t stretching the field either. She drifted central and it made an already congested middle, even more crowded. There was definitely a play where she was extremely IN THE WAY and thwarted a potential goal attempt. She did work back defensively and was successful in that. But. Another shot to the moon and not much else to speak on. I don’t know what she she needs to get a spark, but she needs one, bad.

Christen - I hate not being able to gush about Press. I always want her to be phenomenal. But her touches were heavy. Her moves weren’t as sharp. And Sweden was able to anticipate and cut off the angles of her passes. Maybe it was just an off day. Maybe it’s the knock she’s dealing with. But there was no zoom and typical Pressy cuts and it wasn’t fun. And for the last time. Her Lindsey and Crystal need to be on the same page again. Tooooo many miscommunications. You know what she did well though? DEFENSE. So, positive there.

Pinoe - was sooooo fucking happy when she came in. She really does provide a spark and a change of pace and play. There were definitely more opportunities once she came on. She connects well with Lindsey through the midfield so that was nice. AND EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU PINOE FOR BEING A FREAK OF NATURE AND BEING CLUTCH AT PKS.

And Alex - very happy to see the mother of Charles in the game. She’s going to need more minutes to get back to her peak game. She provided a new challenge for the Swedish defense and definitely was more dangerous than Carli, but never truly got all the way into the game. She did get some decent goal opportunities but... oh my god... that one PERFECT cross when literally NO ONE was there?? I screamed. That sucked. That would have been a sick assist.

Is that everyone? I think so. God. Overall, touches were too heavy and connections were off. We are lucky lucky lucky duckies to tie it up with a PK. But like everyone is saying. It’ll be a benefit in the long run to get the kinks out now. Have the shaky, not so good games, NOW. It’s the kick in the pants we need to peak during the Olympics.

Lol. I guess I did have a lot to say. No one should be surprised.

[sooibian]

IRS and Prejudice

Pairing: CEO!Minseok x fem!employee Reader

Genre / Themes: Fluff!!! Frenemies to (maybe) Lovers? Office AU with some references to ‘The Office’, flirtatious, cat-whisperer, Aries Minseok vs Aries reader!

Description: In which Kim Minseok is nothing like other bosses. Nothing.

A/N: happy birthday to mochi ari! @his-mochi-cheeks​ 💗

Word count: 2.7k (written in a state of delirium eeeek)

You quickly hit Alt+Tab on the resume that you sat updating for the umpteenth time as the sound of heels click-clacking against the floor grew closer.

“My office,” said your immediate supervisor the moment you looked up at her, a well practised unfazed expression crossing your face. If switching between applications at lighting speed were an Olympic sport, you were certain you’d score nothing less than a gold medal. Yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, you had a niggling doubt about having been caught in the act.

You gave her a slight nod in response, lips stretched into a thin line. Smoothing out the wrinkles in your red and black plaid shirt (the one you wore on most casual Fridays since you could hardly be bothered with your appearance at work; despite the feminist within you, the dull back office team discouraged you from making the effort), you followed her into her office with your best businesslike gait while your mind made up a million excuses for what her keen eyes might have found on your 24-inch screen.

“Sit,” the middle aged woman commanded, resting her hands on her hips. Leaning against her teakwood desk, she crossed her legs at the ankles, pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, and cleared her throat. It’s how she’d fidget when she was on the edge about something.

You imagined your expression if a camera was to pan to you, cinéma vérité. Indulging your curiosity, you shrugged your shoulders with a confused look on .your face

“Everything okay?” You mustered in your best Pam Beesly impression.

Your supervisor let out a deep sigh and answered your question with a more awkward one, "When was the last time you submitted cash reports to the IRS?”

You froze into a still frame.

One of the major reasons you wanted to change jobs was because innumerable responsibilities that were entirely unrelated to your department had been carelessly plonked upon your shoulders. Submitting monthly cash reports to the IRS should have ideally been a task of the receivables department and not shifted onto someone incharge of warranties.

“I - I - ,” you started by trying to justify your negligence before even attempting to answer her question but honestly, you didn’t even want to think about when you last submitted those reports and there was absolutely nothing you could say in your defense.

You’d messed up. Big time.

“Ten months. Ten months is not a small amount in penalties,” she said in her quietest tone as you struggled to fight back angry tears. You’d been with the company for over six years now but it was the first time you’d been accused of laxity. It felt like a punch in the gut.

She turned on her heel to take her seat - movements deliberately slow, allowing you some time to regain your composure. With her eyes on her phone, she leaned back in her chair and said with a sense of finality in her voice, “You know what you have to do.”

Head hung low and eyes lined with tears, you walked out of her office muttering all the things you didn’t say in your defense. The long and short of it was that this duty should’ve never fallen into your lap in the first place. As you paced in the direction of your cubicle (with twenty sets of curious eyes on your back), a pair of hands suddenly gripped your shoulders and a dulcet voice sang, “Careful, Warranties.”

At this point, you were ready to rip your hair out. Looking up you met CEO Minseok Kim’s bright, catlike eyes as he stood at a hair’s breadth distance from you, smelling of expensive cologne - the kind that was equivalent to several months of your salary, and coffee. He always smelled like coffee and in your opinion that was his only redeeming quality.

His handsome face that every woman and man in the office fawned over was a source of your annoyance - you didn’t care for cocksure people at all and he was the uncrowned king of arrogance. He took over the reins of a used car dealership from his father upon his retirement - it was nothing too fancy - yet he enjoyed strutting around the office as if he managed a multinational conglomerate.

It was his younger sister that did the real work. She managed the more important businesses while Minseok had been handed the responsibility of just one company and from your (and the Sales Team Lead Baekhyun's) standpoint, he wasn’t doing a marvellous job at it.

Your Aries energy didn’t permit you to apologize for nearly butting heads with him so you feigned a polite smile and side-stepped to your right and he simultaneously side-stepped to his left, his every little wrong move bolstering your frustration level. It happened again and again and again until he bowed ever so slightly, stretched his arm out and said, “Please,” gesturing for you to leave first, the corners of his mouth curled up in a wide, gummy grin.

What was he so happy about all the time?

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he winked at you in response. You immediately made a mental note to find out if you could report the CEO for improper behaviour. You had a full-blown list that started with his attire - should a CEO be allowed to dress in hoodies, skinny jeans, and comfortable sneakers while the rest of you suffocated in the restraints of formal clothing for four days of the week?

Huffing, you slumped in your chair and texted your aunt informing that you wouldn’t make it to barbecue night and immediately flipped your phone to silent to avoid seeing her colourful messages berating you for the last minute cancellation.

Next, you aggressively typed ‘IRS CASH STATEMENTS’ in big block letters into the sticky notes app as a reminder of the humiliation you experienced today.

***

When you last checked time, it was noon.

The sun had long gone down since then as you tried to wrangle customers’ social security numbers out of the ever-so-reticent-to-share-information receivables department who were all packing up for the day. You were this close to socking them in the jaw but you still maintained a courteous smile and pleaded with them throwing in tonnes of cringey corporate jargon, “Please, I just have three more reports to go and I’d really appreciate your prompt help with the information.”

Suddenly, a familiar cheery voice fell upon your ears, “What’s going on?”

You were surprised to find Minseok still in the office but also extremely grateful for his presence because his single sideway glance at Angela achieved what your five emails and three verbal requests failed to.

Furiously typing away on her keyboard, she said through gritted teeth, “I’ve sent them over.”

Minseok gave you a casual two-finger salute and nearly went skipping back to his ...no, not his but to your immediate supervisor’s now empty, glass-paned office - where you could see him directly and he you - the three walls of your cubicle doing nothing to keep you out of the periphery of his blatant staring and his trademark cheeky grin that lit up his ridiculously handsome face.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat you returned his smile but not with your eyes. You hated the effect he had on you - making you, a grown woman, blush like a schoolgirl under his self-assured gaze. Minseok was nothing like a CEO - he dressed casually, talked to anyone and everyone like he’s known them forever. He’d come into work regularly after prolonged dry spells only to disappear again. His laidback attitude did no favours to your opinion about him.

To pointedly avoid Minseok you put your head down on your desk on the pretext of catching a little break.

… big mistake.

***

You woke up with a start to the soothing and inviting aroma of... home. Opening your eyes to cinnamon bread drizzled with cream cheese on your desk felt like a fever dream until Minseok rolled his chair forward in your direction and you instinctively backpedaled. Clutching his stomach he broke into a vast roar of laughter while offering you a paper napkin with his other hand.

Brows furrowed, you stared at him quizzically as sleep continued to irritate your eyes and the mark of the ballpoint pen you fell asleep on, niggled at your cheek. Hesitantly, you took the napkin from his hand and dabbed it around your eyes and he shook his head in response, pointing to the annoying curled up corner of his own mouth.

“You were drooling,” he guffawed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Upon noticing that you immediately grew conscious about your appearance, he waved his hands frantically and added, “It’s no problem… I drool too, haha..in fact it’s ...umm..”

You glowered at him and he instantly looked away allowing you to fix your face as his fingers impatiently drummed away on your desk.

The clock struck 7:53 p.m.

Your last meal had been sometime before noon. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve been grateful for the little snack Minseok had brought you - it was an uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture from someone like him but you’d been expecting your period in a week’s time which made you unusually ravenous.

Lips pursed and head tilted to the side, he handed you a bottle of water which you gulped down within a matter of seconds while steadily growing wary of your ultimate boss’ intentions. But you pivoted your attention to prioritizing. First, you’d wolf down the delicious cinnamon bread and then think about whether you were going to walk out of this office on your own two feet or as a human-skin suit on Minseok’s well defined back.

“Thank you for the snack,” you said to him with a forced smile, “I’ll get back to my reports now.” As you swivelled your chair to face the monitor, his hand hooked at the armrest and he spun you back around towards himself.

“What’s the rush, Warranties?” Resting his chin in his hand, he wondered with a quirked brow and a smile teasing the edges of his plump mouth.

It was not your place to ask what your boss was doing in his own office at 8 p.m. on a Friday night, especially one that hardly ever came in to begin with. He could clock in and out at his own whim and sit wherever he liked even if it meant being an utter inconvenience to someone on a stringent deadline but you took your shot anyway. Doing nothing to mask the sarcasm in your tone, you said to him, “Minseok, if you came into work everyday, you wouldn’t have to stay back so late, you know.”

Unfazed, he responded, “But my schedule doesn’t allow me to come into work everyday.”

Schedule?

You decided not to stretch this conversation longer than necessary, especially not after his ridiculous response. Drawing in a deep breath, you said, “I just have five reports left to finish, Minseok. Maybe we can talk later.”

“I run an organization involved in wildlife rights and care,” he explained anyway, rummaging the pockets of his jeans.

No shit, you scoffed. If only Minseok Kim could get any more predictable. A not-for-profit organization was every rich kids guide...no facade...no scam.. to make it seem like they actually did something.

Handing you a card, he continued, “It requires me to travel extensively - last month I was in a park in South America, working with this one puma, Elsa. She was a cage cat who got so used to the confines that she wouldn’t come out of the cage for walks in the jungle because she didn’t like anyone touching her collar, so we couldn’t attach a rope to walk with her. But, I think I’m somewhat of a genius and a cat-whisperer. Within three to four weeks, we managed to get her out of the cage.”

He pulled his phone out next, brought his chair closer to yours and started swiping through the picture gallery to show you a magnificent puma walking around the park as if she were its reigning queen. He resumed the story proudly, “Now she walks every single day, without a rope around her neck. And she’s very, very loving and affectionate.” His face lit up with awe and admiration for Elsa.

Probably you'd misunderstood Minseok…just a little. His passion about his organization did something to favourably change your opinion about him but that didn't mean you didn't have your immediate supervisor and the IRS to answer to anymore.

"Why are you telling me all this?" You asked, covertly moving closer to your workstation.

"We have a vacant position in Treasury." He answered and you immediately stopped dead in your tracks.

Mouth agape, you exclaimed, "You did not just try to poach me from your own company! Minseok you don't cease to surprise me -"

With a smirk on his face, he gave you finger guns. "That’s always been the goal, Warranties!"

"I still have five-

"Three..you have only three reports left. How stupid do you think I am?”

Caught in a lie, you could do nothing to save face so you simply pivoted your chair only to be forcefully twirled back by his strong arms again.

“Now what?" You asked, letting out a groan.

With his foot on one leg of the chair base, he pushed you back towards your desktop and said with a voice laced heavily with his trademark sass, "Check your inbox first."

Grumbling under your breath, you said something along the lines of ‘what does a CEO do anyway’. You then refreshed your inbox, impatiently waiting for an email of several MBs to load as Minseok watched you with an expression of victory painted across his features.

Your mouth fell open to find perfect to the t cash reports for the last three months which made you instantly regret your snide remarks.

Minseok snapped you out of your reverie with his smooth voice, “I may not know much of what a corporate CEO is supposed to do but I do how to get work done. Angela was more than happy to do this for a ‘team leader’ nameplate on her desk.”

Struggling to hold his compelling gaze, you muttered, “I don’t know how to thank you...”

“But I do!” He quipped.

“Of course, you do,” you sighed.

“Let me join you for barbeque night at your aunt’s..i’m sure they won’t mind you bringing a friend along?”

Before you could begin looking for a bug in your cubicle, he explained, “I caught a preview of her message on your phone while you were happily tucked away in dreamland.”

“You - you - that’s an invasion of privacy!” You lambasted him.

Stifling a yawn, he leaned back in his chair and said casually, “I was bored. Besides, privacy is a myth in today’s day and age...just like democracy, the importance of drinking eight glasses of water a day, the goldfish memory, or the thing about houseflies -”

“Okay, okay! I get it! Privacy is a myth. You - you can join us, I guess,” you interrupted him.

With widened eyes he emphasized, “Unless you don’t want me to -”

No matter how much and how often Minseok irked you, he was a charmer. You knew your aunt and your cousins would love having someone like him join in the get together and it really wouldn’t hurt your reputation to bring your boss, especially one like Minseok, along at a family event. You also couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospects of working in an NPO’s treasury department.

“You know that’s not what I meant -” You replied, eyes on the monitor as you double checked the email you’d drafted for your immediate supervisor.

“So you want me to come along?” He asked in his flamboyantly flirtatious tone.

Ignoring him, you hit send only after adding a little smiling emoji. Shutting down your system, you picked up your coat and answered with a genuine smile this time, “I’m driving.”

************

A/N: the story about puma Elsa is real! i’ll link it in one of the rb’s for those interested :)

[petri808]

I3+Bakudeku mutual pining idiots Actor AU @miss-lorali request. I’m an idiot cause my idea is gonna be waaaay longer then I was aiming for lol.

“Okay,” the hiring director motioned for the pair to move closer. “Mr. Midoriya, remember you’re a scientist and Bakugou’s character is here to take you to safety. But you don’t understand why just yet. So, if you are ready, please begin the reading.”

Katsuki gesturing wildly, “pack it up quick nerd, we gotta get out of here before DAV gets here!”

Izuku pretending to complete a file download. He slammed his fist on the imaginary desk. “I can’t make the computer move faster! I don’t even understand what the hell is going on!”

Katsuki, “you’re science experiments aren’t important, we—”

Izuku straightened out, walked over and placed a finger on the larger man’s chest, running it slowly down from his collarbone to his pecs, while lowering his tone and narrowing his eyes. “Oh,” his brow raised, “and what would a grunt like you know about science?”

Katsuki slapped his hand away in annoyance, though a light flush arose on his tinged cheeks. “F-Fuck off!” He gritted back. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

“Yeah, yeah...” Izuku went back to the imaginary desk and pretended to type something. “30 seconds, fast enough for you? Probably like your bedroom speed,” he mumbled the last portion.

“What?!”

“And cut!” The hiring director yelled. “That was perfect!! Midoriya you’re hired!”

“Oh hell no!” Katsuki screamed at the director. “He added lines at the end! How is that okay?!”

“Because,” the woman countered. “It was still perfectly in character, and you know very well that the Director allows actors to ad lib if it fits the scene.”

Katsuki crossed his arms, “I refuse to work with him.”

“You’ve already signed the contract,” her brow perked up, “and may I remind you of the penalty if you quit now?”

“Find someone else!”

“No. The chemistry between you two came through perfectly on camera. It’s done. He’s it. End of discussion.” The woman then ignored the raging blonde and turned to Izuku. “I’ll let your agent know so we can sign the contracts, and I’ll have the full script sent to their office by end of day along with the filming schedule. You did a great job today holding your own and not getting lost next to Bakugou. I’m glad to have you on board with this project.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Ashido. I was quite excited when I heard about the project and look forward to being part of the team.”

“Kiss ass,” Katsuki sneered. “You’re in. No need for simpering.”

But Izuku played it cool. He wasn’t about to play into the leads temper tantrum. “You might be top as an action star, but I have my own credit successes. So, stop treating me like the hired help, or I’ll make you scream in another way.”

Katsuki’s eyes flashed wide and mouth hung agape. It’s been a long time since anyone’s stood up to him and this smaller, green-haired, freckle-faced mouse just grew a set of balls to rival his own. “H-how dare you?!”

“I dare,” Izuku grinned brightly. “See ya later Kacchan!” He waved as he walked away.

Ms. Ashido giggled. “Oooo, this is gonna be so good! I must say I’d chalked him up as iffy, but he really proved me wrong.”

“Little shit is already giving me a nickname? Who the fuck does he think he is?!”

“Your new co-star.” She patted his chest twice and walked away with a smirk.

“Fuck!” What did he just get himself into?!

That afternoon, Katsuki left the studio in a total huff. And to think, he’d gone in excited to be working with Izuku Midoriya. Their movie credits ran in different circles, but he knew exactly who the man was. Izuku was from all he’d seen a great actor, and the perfect person to play his opposite. The guy looked like a handsome office worker, lean but built well, smaller then himself, and would fit snuggly against his chest in a romantic scene. In fact, it was after one of Izuku’s very first movies as a lead that a crush bloomed for the man. He had expected a quieter guy, but oh, boy! Had he been blindsided! And if that didn’t just turn him on even more!

Hence the dilemma he now found himself in. He’d have to act side by side with a man he was extremely attracted to, but only pretended to be. Katsuki was certain that Izuku’s attitude during the read was the same as his— pretending. Because that’s how you sell a movie. If the audience buys into what you’re selling, box office sales will go up. It’s not supposed to be real emotions. Heaven help him this just might kill him!

At home, he read through the script again noting the section that would be his hardest to overcome. The love scenes. No full nudity, not even close, but there is a section near the end where in a moment of pent up emotions, and the exhilarating rush of emotions, they end up lip-locked. Granted, the more realistic it is, the better, but Katsuki felt the nerves kicking in just thinking about it. He could only pray that in the real moment, and energies are heightened, he simply runs on instinct and acting prowess.

‘Come on, dumbass! It’s not your first kiss scene!’ Katsuki growled to himself in the safety of his own home. “Stupid!” He was making himself all flustered like some virginal teenager about to kiss his first crush! Fuck that! He wasn’t about to show Izuku any weakness! The last thing he wanted was for the man to figure out he was really just an overgrown pining fool behind a mask of anger. He didn’t even know which way the man swung because Izuku kept his life private, very private. A miracle in their world of paparazzi. It meant two things, Izuku really was good at hiding, or simply wasn’t seeing anyone for them to catch. Either way, Katsuki couldn’t figure out what he desperately wanted to know. Did he have a chance?

A month later, Katsuki and Izuku found themselves on location in Europe where most of the scenes would be filmed. The premise of the movie is of a top-tier scientist in the field of chemicals played by Izuku, who is to be kidnapped. But because MI6 caught wind of the plan, they sent in one of their agents played by Katsuki to get Izuku to safety. They barely make it out of the lab in time and now they’re on the run, being hunted by a group called the DAV who want Izuku to create chemical weapons for them. Katsuki needed to somehow get Izuku safely from his home in France, back to England where the MI6 brass waited to secret him into permanent hiding.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Izuku screamed and yanked Katsuki to halt. The moment they stop moving, he collapsed onto his knees, clutching his chest trying to catch his breath from all the running. “W-what is going on?!”

“Look,” Katsuki tried to yank the man back to his feet, but Izuku slumped and played a dead weight. “Damn it, we gotta get out of here before someone sees us!”

“No! I-I can’t keep running like this! I’m not exactly athletic! Now, tell me what the hell is going on!”

Katsuki growled and ignored Izuku’s pleas. He grabbed him instead and dead lifted him up, hoisting the man onto his shoulder in a fireman carry. Izuku bucked, but Katsuki literally slapped his ass to behave. “Just shut up for now,” he snapped and took off running down the alleyway. “I’ll explain everything when I get us somewhere safe!”

“If I’m the victim, shouldn’t you be nicer to me?!” Izuku retorted.

“I’ll be nicer if you stop causing me a headache!”

As soon as they exit the alley, Katsuki quickly surveyed his options. The bad guys blew up his car, so he needed transportation. He saw a man exiting a vehicle and rushed over, pulling a gun on them.

“Gimme the keys,” he aimed at the man’s head, to which they immediately complied. “Now scram!”

Katsuki put Izuku back on his feet. “Get in!”

“Where are we go—”

“Just get in the fucking car!”

Once Izuku is inside the passenger side, Katsuki got into the drivers and hightailed it out of there, heading towards the outskirts of town.

“Trailing car... And cut! Perfect!” The director called out. “Thirty minute break to reset for the next scene.”

“Kacchan, wanna get some lunch with me?” Izuku asked as they stepped out of the car.

“No,” Katsuki replied and quickly walked away, leaving his co-actor standing there with a sad, pouting look on his face.

‘Don’t turn around!’ He screamed at himself. Just co-workers, he reminded. Don’t get too close to that cute... freckled... “Fuck!” Katsuki screamed the moment he slammed his trailer door behind him and fell back against it. ‘Why’d I slap his ass!’ He groaned and ran a hand down his face. It wasn’t in the script and apparently the director didn’t mind it. ‘You did it cause you wanted to...’ his conscience chimed back. “Fuck you.” That’s not true...

A few minutes later there was a knock at his door. “Go away!” Katsuki snapped, he didn’t want to be bothered. Then a second knock, and a shuffling sound. “Go the fuc—” He whipped the door open to find no one standing there. “What the?” That’s when his looked down and saw a wrapped sandwich and a piece of paper tucked under it. Katsuki picked it up and closed door, opening up the sandwich to eat it. He was hungry, just didn’t want to take Izuku up on his offer. As he ate he opened the note:

I just wanna be friends :) that was a taxing scene, so you must be hungry. See you back on set. -I

It had been Izuku.

“Tch.” Katsuki bit down on the sandwich. ‘Didn’t have the balls to stick around though.’ But despite his grumping, he couldn’t help the light blush filtering onto his cheeks and warmth filling his body. Izuku was just too damn nice.

Filming an action movie was a lot more taxing then the consumers might realize. Thankfully, stunt doubles did the hardest scenes for the pair, but close ups and cardio elements were all them, and to see Izuku keeping up with him left Katsuki pleasantly surprised. Too pleasant. Moments in close confines, of him holding or dragging the man around left his libido in agony by end of day only to be relieved by a hand it didn’t want. Almost four months of agony had left Katsuki’s mind a buzz, trapped in a cycle of false realities and wishful thinking.

It was the last day of filming, and the scene Katsuki had dreaded had finally arrived. So much so, that he’d convinced the producer to hold off on filming it till the very end despite it taking place two-thirds of the way through the movie itself. Screw it, they can edit and splice it in. For a lot of actors, the intimately romantic parts were the hardest to accomplish, because conveying such raw emotions and making it believably real for the audience took great finesse.

They were holed up for the night in a small run down inn Katsuki managed to find after crossing the French border into Belgium. They were both exhausted, Izuku’s character more so, unused to such physical demands. DAV always managed to catch up to them within a day or two, so it left them little time to breathe, and Izuku was at his breaking point.

The smaller male pounded on Katsuki’s chest while tears streamed down his face. “I can’t keep doing this! Why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s flailing arms gently to stop him. “I don’t know why.” He pulled the man towards the bed to sit down, taking a place beside him as he did his best to console. “But I promise I’ll keep you safe. We’ll get to safety soon and it will all be over with.”

Izuku sobbed harder, burying his face in Katsuki’s shoulder. His fingers gripped tightly to the man’s torn shirt. “You can’t promise me that,” he mumbled. “I’ve caused you so much trouble, maybe it’s best if I gave myself up to them.”

Katsuki pushed the man back and forced Izuku to look up at him. “Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare! You think I’m gonna just let them take you?!” His voice cracked as he channeled real emotions of the fear of losing this man. “You... I’m not letting them take you away from me Hitomu!”

Izuku looked up when he heard the pain behind Katsuki’s words to find tears pooling and clouded ruby red eyes. He held the man’s gaze for several seconds, staring, lip quivering. “I don’t want to leave you either, Takeo.” Izuku’s fingers slowly uncurl, smoothing out and lowering to Katsuki’s firm abdomen where it came to rest just above the waistline and pressed in firmly. “I feel safe with you.”

Katsuki’s breathing slowed as his eyes widened. Shit! He’s not ready for this scene! He thought he was, oh how he wanted to just rush in and steal Izuku’s lips! But his mind froze as glistening emerald eyes held it hostage. What was his lines? Are there any lines? Fuck! He couldn’t think straight!

“Cut!” The director yelled. “Bakugou, what’s the problem? You hold the gaze for a second then kiss him. Do you need a break?”

This was the first time since making it big that Katsuki’s messed up a scene like this. He took a moment to snap out of his trance, then yelled back. “No! Let’s just get this over with.”

“Alright. Places people, let’s take it from the last line Midoriya. Action!”

Izuku repeated the last line, “I feel safe with you,” adding a deeper grip to the waist band of Katsuki’s pants.

Katsuki’s eyes lower, half-lidded as he reached out and caressed Izuku’s face gently, cupping the man’s cheek before leaning in and landing a solid kiss. His mind was barely holding it together to keep his actions gentle.

Izuku reacted accordingly, once again his fingers gripping to the fabric of Katsuki’s clothes as the kiss was deepened considerably.

Katsuki’s hand trailed up and behind, tangling into his co-actors green curls. He let go of any control and lost himself in their embrace, in the feel of Izuku’s supple lips against his own. In that moment, they were no longer filming a movie scene, but transported into the blonde’s fantasy, of so much more that he’d love to do this man’s body. His eyes rolled back and fluttered as Izuku trailed heated kisses down to the nape of his neck, pressing firm nibbles and light mewling whines.

“Kacchan...” Izuku huskily whispered too low for the microphone to pick up.

But Katsuki heard it loud and clear, and he responded with a rumbling groan that went straight to his groin. Izuku had used his nickname... Not the characters name! His nickname! And damn did it sound sweet to his ears! Katsuki’s too far gone and doesn’t stop the decent, even as the smaller male applied pressure, allowing Izuku to guide them deeper onto the bed. Hands followed curves and groped flesh as they moved under the confines of shirts in the makings of a sex scene. Izuku truly felt wonderful against him, moving in time with his movements like a perfect dance. It was only once on his back, with their bodies semi-entwined, that the director finally yelled cut, and Katsuki’s fantasy came to a screeching halt.

“Brilliant work guys!” The director congratulated his two stars as they made their way off the bed. “I think we can call it a wrap!”

Applause rang out on the set as everyone was high-fiving or shaking hands, patting the two men on the back and adding to the job well done message. Izuku was blushed and beaming, but Katsuki still flustered from the scene, ignored the jovial repartee and beelined it to his trailer for some privacy. It was a miracle no one noticed the slight pitch in his pants, because now he was fucking horny! If the director hadn’t stopped them, who knows how far things would have gone. The sound of Izuku’s voice whispering his name continued to repeat in Katsuki’s mind like a siren, but he couldn’t give into it.

“This was just acting!” Katsuki screamed in the safety of his trailer as he punched the wall as hard as he could. It’s a fantasy! A goddamn fantasy world! And it’s over! “Stop thinking about him!” At that moment, there’s a knock on his trailer door followed by his name being called out.

“Kacchan? What was that loud bang?”

Fuck! It was Izuku again!

“Kacchan?” More determined pounding on the doror. “Kacchan, c-can we talk, please, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m fine, go away!”

“I’m not going away, we need to talk about what just happened!”

Katsuki growled and slammed the door wide open, ignoring the throb of his hand. “No, we don’t! It was just a scene Izuku!” But after shouting his piece-of-mind, he’s taken slightly aback at the teary-eyed man who looked like he was on the verge of crying.

“It wasn’t just a scene for me, Kacchan.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki questioned, though again his whispered nickname sprang back to the forefront. Had Izuku said it on purpose?!

“Did you feel nothing between us?” Izuku’s lip quivered as he spoke. “Was the passion that came out on set just acting?” His voice cracked. “If you say yes, I-I’ll leave you alone. It’s just— I took this job because... I like you, Kacchan. I’ve liked you for a long time and thought maybe... but— that’s okay, just forget it,” he turned to walk away unwilling to take the rejection face-forward. “Thank you for the opportunity to work with you.”

Katsuki stood in his spot completely stunned by the confession. But the further Izuku moved away from his trailer, he quickly realized he was about to lose the very thing he’d come to desire. He raced after the man and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around, and slammed his lips into the stunned Izuku. It was filled with an even more heightened passion then before, now that there was no audience watching them. He nibbled at the man’s bottom lip, eliciting a groan, while Izuku’s hands grabbed desperately onto his shirt, holding tight.

“Fucking nerd,” Katsuki mumbled with a smile while threading his fingers through Izuku’s hair. “How could I not want you too after you’d riled me up since the day we met.”

Izuku blushed in embarrassment. “S-sorry for coming on so strong. I just got in my head that I needed to look cool and not a pining mess. I really wanted to work with you.”

“Tch, I guess I can’t really talk, because I acted like an asshole, so I didn’t look like a pining idiot.” Katsuki laughed. “Guess we’re both pining idiots.” He kissed Izuku again and lowered his voice to a sultry tone. “Wanna finish what we started?”

Izuku giggled as his hands tugged at the man’s waistband. “Most definitely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silly Bonus: from a chat with a friend lol

As they start to walk back towards Katsuki’s trailer, Izuku takes hold of the man’s hand. But now that the adrenaline had worn off, Katsuki immediately flinched from the pain. Izuku stopped and lifted it up for inspection, seeing the slight swell of the man’s knuckles and drying blood. “Oh my goodness, Kacchan was that noise from you punching the wall?”

“What? No!” He pulled his hand back and hid it behind his back.

“You’re bleeding, we should get the medics.”

“I’m fine, it’s fine, it’s just ketchup.”

“Ketchup?” Izuku’s brow raised. “Really?”

“Really.”

Izuku:

[bongaboi]

Washington Spirit: 2021 NWSL Champions

In a National Women's Soccer League season that will be remembered more for its leaguewide off-field problems than its splendid play on the field, the Washington Spirit became a fitting champion Saturday, beating the Chicago Red Stars 2-1 in a thrilling extra-time finish.

To say that the Spirit's road this season to the final was a rocky one would be an understatement. The NWSL stepped in and banned their coach after player allegations of abuse failed to prompt the team's owner to act. A power struggle between that owner and another investor ensued, with the players publicly demanding the team be sold. And the Spirit had to forfeit two regular-season games after a COVID-19 outbreak, earning a hefty fine for protocol violations too.

In a word, the Spirit's season has been chaos. But the only way the Spirit could come back from a goal deficit and beat the Red Stars on the league's biggest stage was not by ignoring the chaos swirling around them -- the players simply had to embrace it.

"It's been a lot of different emotions but we've been leaning into them and soaking up the chaos and seeing what we could do with it," Spirit captain Andi Sullivan said. "I don't think you could create something else like it."

You probably wouldn't want to either -- the Spirit were hardly the only team in the NWSL dealing with off-field problems this season -- but the Spirit's unique ability to use the uncertainty to their advantage means there is no better team to go down in NWSL history as the 2021 champion.

"People have no idea what we've all gone through," veteran defender Kelley O'Hara said. "The resiliency and perseverance of every single player on this team is pretty incredible and something that I haven't had on any NWSL team I've been on. It's the best feeling ever to be ending on a win."

In the first half, however, it looked like perhaps an emotional toll had finally caught up with the Spirit. Whether it was the weight of the stakes or the drain of their off-field turmoil, something tamped down some of the Spirit's flair and flashiness, which had carried them through the playoffs to the final.

Trinity Rodman, the 19-year-old breakout who was named Rookie of the Year, looked frustrated as she created dangerous moments for the Spirit but couldn't tap into her previous magic. In the 11th minute, she had only to get around center-back Sarah Gorden for a breakaway, but the NWSL Defender of the Year poked the ball away. Later, after some ball circulation to create space for Rodman, she pulled the trigger from the top of the box, but it went straight to goalkeeper Cassie Miller.

"I was extremely frustrated with myself and our movement of the ball," Rodman said. "Once you can get out of your head and keep focusing on the next pass, the next shot, the next ball, that's gonna get you to the end."

Since early in the match, Rodman was seen at times bent over clutching her side as if she were cramped from overexertion -- but she never stopped. She leaned in even more and single-handedly shifted the match's momentum, leading a Spirit turnaround in the second half. It started in the 62nd minute when Rodman fired a rocket off the post from well outside the box, a chance that seemingly rattled the Red Stars' back line. Three minutes later, Rodman took on three defenders, finally breaking free with a nutmeg through the last defender's legs before another shot from distance. But her key contributions would be assists that followed, not goals.

In the 66th minute, Rodman slipped a ball to Tara McKeown, who was fouled in the box, earning a penalty that Sullivan buried to equalize. After the match moved to extra time, Rodman lofted a long ball to the back post in the 97th minute, finding O'Hara's head. It was O'Hara's first goal of the 2021 season.

"We never quit," Spirit goalkeeper Aubrey Bledsoe said. "We never gave up on each other and that second half shows who we are."

For the Red Stars, it was a brutal end after it looked as though they'd overcome their own set of challenges.

Coming into Saturday, they were already missing starters Julie Ertz (left thigh), Casey Krueger (illness), Alyssa Naeher (right thigh) and Kealia Watt (right knee). Within 12 minutes, captain and midfielder Vanessa DiBernardo had to come off with an injury, replaced by Makenzy Doniak. More bad luck struck before the half, when Mallory Pugh went down with injury -- but, as has become the Red Stars' identity, they stayed locked in and scored in first-half stoppage time, despite being down a player. Arin Wright (nee Gilliland) lofted a long cross to the back post and Rachel Hill nodded it home.

After losing the 2019 NWSL championship and the 2020 Challenge Cup, the Red Stars have now lost their third consecutive final.

"It's been hard because we've had that taste in our mouth of losing a final like that," said Morgan Gautrat (nee Brian), one of Chicago's most consistent players this season. "It's why we go to practice every single day and we play every minute like it's the last."

For anyone who didn't know about the Spirit's off-field problems or the reckoning in the NWSL at large, Saturday's final had all the normal trappings of a celebratory finish to the regular season: full stands at Lynn Family Stadium in Louisville, Kentucky; supporters for each side banging drums and cheering; players putting in a high-level, competitive, focused performance. "The crowd brought it -- there were some people heckling me," O'Hara said, laughing.

But there were hints of the shadow cast by the tumultuous season that preceded the final. Local fans of Racing Louisville took it upon themselves to bring some large hard-to-miss signage for the Spirit: "We support Spirit fans. Sell the team, Baldwin." Spirit fans who made the trip brought their own signs urging majority owner Steve Baldwin to sell amid a public and ugly power struggle for control of the club. Baldwin, who stood by former Spirit coach Richie Burke even as players alleged abuse, has been pitted against Y. Michele Kang, the female minority owner who has earned the backing of Spirit players.

Other signs scattered throughout the stadium offered even weightier slogans like "Listen. Believe. Protect." And "#NoMoreSilence. Support NWSLPA."

Those signs were, of course, a reference to Burke, the coach accused by Spirit players of berating them with cruel name-calling and racial remarks. When Baldwin caught wind that journalists were looking into it, he claimed Burke had health problems and gave him a front-office job instead of firing him, which prompted the NWSL to step in and ban him. But the signs were also a reference to a larger backdrop of abuse and mistreatment of players that forced a reckoning in the NWSL this year.

The most shocking allegations came against former Portland Thorns coach Paul Riley, who two players said forced them to kiss as he watched, sent them lewd photos and showed up to film session in his underwear. A player filed a formal complaint in 2015, and Thorns owner Merritt Paulson and general manager Gavin Wilkinson let Riley quietly leave the club in what was framed as a routine non-renewal after poor on-field results. Riley quickly landed a new job, and was fired last month only when the players shared their stories publicly for the first time. The NWSL's commissioner, Lisa Baird, resigned last month under fire for refusing to investigate Riley earlier this year.

"It's been a really long year for every team, for different reasons -- a bunch of adversity on and off the field, and it's necessary to make this league better," Gautrat said, reflecting on Saturday's final. "But I do think it was a great showing -- 120 minutes of end-to-end soccer, good goals and excitement."

The NWSL championship wasn't even supposed to be in Kentucky. It had originally been scheduled to be played in Portland, Oregon, the city that has nicknamed itself Soccer City, USA -- but to accommodate a national noon East Coast broadcast slot, it would be played at 9 a.m. local time, which drew outrage from players and fans. The mishandling of the allegations against Riley from the Portland Thorns front office didn't make the location any more attractive.

But that the players managed to force the league to move its marquee event some 2,000 miles away was yet another testament to the power of the players. In a professional league, players shouldn't have to get involved in fixing off-field problems as often as NWSL players have, but they've risen above the challenges repeatedly, as the NWSL final put on full display.

That's as true for the Spirit players as anyone else, as no club has dealt with more problems -- at least in public -- this year. It's fitting that the Spirit have been the best team in the NWSL at coming back after conceding a goal first: their whole season has been a comeback of sorts. They haven't lost since Burke was finally fired months ago, a hot streak that carried them to the final, and on Saturday they made enduring a season of messiness well worth it.

"We've been in playoff mode since the end of the September -- we controlled what we could control, and that was winning," O'Hara said. "Here we are."

[eusjason]

𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌 SATURDAY, APRIL 10TH 10:26 PM

↳ please welcome your 2021 frozen four champion : EONIA UNIVERSITY !!

          after the exciting conclusion to the semifinal game, finals all but staggers out to a sluggish start. there's a lot of time in the neutral zone, play ping-ponging back and forth but both teams struggle with entries and getting anything set up for some sustained pressure. the uneventful first period closes out with a 0-0 tie. the second period brings us a whole different game. be it the firm words of a captain, or the tongue lashing from a coach, eonia comes out looking much more like the team that'd scored three unanswered goals to clinch their finals spot. eonia gets the momentum rolling with a goal from val serra, keeps it going with a decisive penalty kill, and oskar kamen brings eonia to 2-0 in the dying minute of the second. 

          antioch shows more signs of life coming into the third, bringing themselves within one with a powerplay goal just two minutes into the period. it becomes evident that both teams are acutely aware of just how much is on the line as it's back and forth play for a breathless ten minutes, antioch netting their second for a tie 2-2 game. their relief doesn't last long as jason goldhirsch breaks up an antioch rush only the shift after their goal, sending a seeing eye pass to sebastian keller ( who else ?? ) already rushing up the ice. it's a 2-on-1 with elio riccardo who dekes his man and brings eonia back up one with a beautiful wrist shot. it's 3-2 with just two minutes remaining in the game, antioch pulling their goalie as expected. two minutes, two hours — time becomes separated as eonia goes on the defense against antioch's pressuring offense. a massive block from goldhirsch comes in clutch while his goalie is down as eonia weathers the storm and izak moler all but seals the deal half a minute later as he sends the puck near the length of the ice for the empty net goal.

          eonia wins, 4-2, and takes it all. the sound of the final horn is nearly drowned out by cheers as the boys rush off the bench, helmets, gloves, and sticks flying everywhere as they converge and dogpile on the ice. eventually, there’s enough order on the ice to present the team their trophy and the team spends another stretch of time celebrating with it on the ice — including a rendition of this from jason and sebastian. eventually, the team exits the rink and heads back to the dressing room where festivities kick themselves up a notch : loud music, enthusiastic but questionable renditions of queen’s “we are the champions,” and lots and lots of champagne.

[tendertenebrosity]

Ruler and Empress part 14

Masterpost here! Even the first few paragraphs of this is gonna contain spoilers for part 13, so if you haven’t read that bit yet, you probably should before going further!

Lian sat, numbly, expecting to hear the sound of guards rushing in at any moment to drag them away.

What have I done? I killed her. I never thought - I needed to stop her, but I didn’t think -

Lian could not believe what had happened. That the Empress had allowed the opportunity to arise, or that Lian had taken it. Any second now, this brief moment of stillness in which they understood exactly what they’d done would break apart, into terror and violence and inevitable consequences.

But there was… nothing. Incredibly, whatever noise Lian had made when they killed Elisandre, it had been slight enough that nobody outside this room had heard it. Hadn’t the guard that had brought them here stayed outside the door? Surely not, or he would be in here by now.

Lian sat there on the ground, surrounded by broken glass, beside the cooling, bloody body of the Empress. The curtain danced in the light of the softly glowing candles. And nobody came.

An unknowable amount of time passed before the pain of the cuts on their fingers brought them back to themselves.

I have to hide this, Lian thought, their first coherent thought in what felt like a very long time but must have been only minutes. Nobody knows  - yet. If they find out - the guards, the Empress’ court - If they find out what I’ve done, what will they do in retribution?

Their breathing was harsh, ragged, filling their ears, as they carefully, haltingly started down the trail of thought. Lian wouldn’t have been so afraid if it was only themself who would pay the price - or at least, they liked to think they wouldn’t have been afraid.  It would still be worth it, if Lian died but nobody ever heard that last order that the Empress had been planning to give out. But the Empress’ court was made in the image of its monarch - or the other way around, perhaps - so Lian didn’t dare hope things would stop there.

Far more likely that the penalty would fall on their country as a whole.

Lian raised their hands up to the candlelight, trying to gulp back their breathing to something resembling calm. No glass fragments remained; underneath the blood - oh gods, so much blood - the cuts didn’t seem serious. Their fingers stung fiercely, but they still moved.

It was astonishing that nobody had come for Lian already. But since they hadn’t… maybe there was still time for Lian to fix this.

No more time to sit here in a horror-struck daze; time to think. The breeze that pushed past the curtain still smelled of smoke. Lian had a thought of climbing down from the open window, but dismissed it; they could never make such a climb without rope, and what good would it do to flee and leave evidence of their guilt? Their people could not escape through a window.

It’s the middle of the night, and she called you out of bed. Who knows you’re here? Only that one guard?

Once the Empress retired to her bedchamber, Lian knew, she usually wasn’t disturbed until she emerged on her own. Only the most urgent of messages would be brought to her. So if the guards truly had not heard… and if Lian could return this little sitting-room to normal… her absence probably would not be discovered until long past dawn.  

Lian took one final deep breath, and let it out as slowly as they could. Then they pushed themself to their feet, and into feverish activity.

The table was easy enough to right, the unbroken glassware set aside. But after that it was no longer avoidable; they needed to deal with the body.

As they lifted one of her arms - terribly warm and terribly heavy - they were appalled all over again at the blood. The smell of it clogged their nose, thick and metallic and nauseating. They’d seen this much blood before, of course, but if anything those memories made their stomach flip even more.

Wait. I shouldn’t get any more of it on me. Lian looked down at themself. Their right hand was already sodden, of course, and there was rather a lot on their chest, but amazingly, the rest of their nightclothes had only flecks. They tried to breathe through their mouth and let themself be consumed by the practical problems the body and the blood posed.

They went to her bedroom, holding their hands carefully away from their clothing. The bed, as before, was covered in silk and velvet; they hauled one of the covers free. They wiped their trembling hands and their face with a corner, then bundled it up in their arms to take it back to the sitting room.

It took them… gods, they weren’t sure, perhaps as much as half an hour and what felt like most of the fabric in the Empress’ room. But they mopped up the blood and the spilled water. Swept up the shards of glass, all but the tiniest pieces, with shaking hands and rapid, panicked breathing. Nobody knocked on the door as they worked.

Lian wasn’t particularly strong. Elisandre’s body was both extremely heavy, and nowhere near as heavy as it felt like it should be as they wrapped it up in the covers. The golden braid and the embroidered silk almost overwhelming the slight body with richness and heaviness. All of this. All of everything they’d been through, the power this woman had held over so many lives, all the damage that had been done… and in the end she was so small.

No, you idiot, Lian thought, a touch hysterically, as they managed to roll the fabric-swathed bundle over for the final time and tuck in the edges. It’s not all her, it’s not just her. Do you think the entire Empire will evaporate into dust just because you killed the person at the top of it? Was that what you thought? Idiot, idiot, idiot. You didn’t think. You should have thought! Their heart pounded so hard, and they were so clumsy, it seemed incredible nobody could hear the noise they were making. Any moment, the door could fly open, and everything would be ruined.

You should have thought this through. What have you done?

The edge of the window hadn’t seemed particularly high before, but it did now. Arms around one end of the bundle, heave upwards, find the tipping point and…

The terrible velvet roll slid over the windowsill and was gone, out of their arms in an instant, and Lian heard the flap and rustle as it fell, long moments of falling until it hit the garden bed several stories below.

Surely someone had heard that. Lian stood there, in the stifling candlelit dimness, and gulped for breath.

I’ve ruined everything. I’ve killed everyone.

They stuffed that thought away as unhelpful. They closed their eyes and made themselves take several more deep breaths.

They opened their eyes and surveyed the room. Did it look like it had before? Not perfect, but better.

They ended up rearranging the tiny tables and dragging a rug three feet to the left, to cover the places where blood was caught in wood grain. Tided the bedroom and rearranged the silken pillows.

Then they stood, out of breath, in the centre of the room, and realised that was all they could do. Part of them couldn’t believe they’d even got this far in their frantic, barely-thought out attempt to hide what they’d done. They would almost certainly be discovered as soon as they stepped out the door…

But that didn’t mean they could stay here.

Lian blew out the candles one by one. They rolled their sleeves up, retrieved their wrap from the floor where it had fallen so long ago, and arranged it around themself with exacting care, so that not a fleck of blood showed.

On their way to the door, they examined their own reflection in the glass front of one of the cabinets. Fine lacquerware and silver glittered in the dimness behind their washed-out face.

No blood showed. Their hair, still pulled back in its braid for sleep; the wrap tucked close under their chin; their eyes shadowed with tiredness and red-rimmed, but nothing more than that. They looked like they’d been crying, but as long as they didn’t look like they’d been frantically covering up a murder, Lian could live with that. They practiced dropping their gaze and looking only miserable.

Tense as a harpstring, as a bowstring, they opened the doors and padded out into the corridor on cold bare feet.  

There was a guard at the end of the hall; less than a hundred metres away. Oh, gods, oh, gods. Lian swallowed back their heart, beating fit to burst in their chest, and approached him.

It was, they realised, the same one that had pulled them out of bed. An age ago.

“Her Majesty’s done with you, then?” he said, as Lian stopped a few feet away.  

“Yes,” Lian whispered. They clutched their wrap tight with numb fingers, gaze fixed on the floor. Oh gods, was there blood on their feet? They had not thought to check… “T-take me back to my room, please.”

The guard stepped closer, intimidatingly close; he seemed to want to see Lian cringe, so they obliged, shrinking back. “That what her Majesty’s orders are?” he asked - was it suspicion, or just the guards’ usual heavy-handedness than made him press Lian?

“For now,” Lian stammered. “I’m to - uh - her Majesty will want me back when, when it’s light, but I…” Their voice dried up into a croak.

The guard looked them up and down, and Lian felt like their guilt was plain to be read on their face, in their shaking hands, the sweat that beaded their temple and their neck. The Empress’ blood was cold and sodden against their chest under the wrap. But they stood there, silent, and prayed he would take their stammering and trembling for distress at whatever the Empress had said or done.

Eventually he nodded, and they nearly collapsed from relief. He took them firmly by the shoulder and guided them back towards the darkened cavity that was the staircase downwards.

Lian sniffled, quietly, as they walked, and didn’t try to dislodge the hand on their arm, for fear of disturbing the careful arrangement of their wrap. Their head was spinning, and if they stumbled a few times on the stairs, the guard didn’t seem to find it odd.

How much does he know of what’s happened? Lian wondered. Of what she had planned for the morning?

If the Empress had told anybody else of her intentions, all that Lian had done tonight might not be enough. The cataclysm they had tried to avoid, a third of the city to be burned, could still occur.

The guard made an impatient noise as Lian stumbled, taking a step too quickly. They clutched their wrap desperately and held their body away from him as he supported them down the next few steps.

Once the corpse was found, Lian thought shakily, glancing over at him, this man would point the finger at Lian. Was possibly the only person who could, given that he’d escorted them there and back alone. If Lian was a different person, they might have been thinking of ways to make sure he couldn’t do that.

Impossible, even if Lian had wanted to.

The guard was mercifully silent as he escorted Lian down the stairs and through the silent, dim corridors. The sound of their bedroom door closing behind them was muted, soft, somehow definitive; footsteps followed as the guard walked away.

Alone inside the dubious haven of their bedroom, Lian cast off the wrap and their bloody nightclothes.

They could scarcely summon the energy, but after a long moment sitting on their bed and just breathing, they pulled it together enough to put the bloodstained clothes somewhere out of immediate sight, before they cleaned the blood from their chest and hands. This done, they crawled to huddle under their blankets.

I need to get rid of those, they thought, numbly, wrapping their arms around their shoulders in the darkness, trying to keep from shaking. Someone will find them. I can’t endanger the cleaning staff. Tomorrow, I’ll get rid of them. How can I get rid of them where nobody will see?  

What do I do in the morning?

The Empress must not have given any orders for punishment of the city. Lian clung to that thought, using it as an anchor to pull themselves together. It had been a spontaneous decision, while Lian was there; she had been wild with anger, nothing she said had been calculated to her usual standards. So surely she hadn’t told anybody else yet.

In the morning, Lian would see to the aftermath of the fires. They would act as if nothing untoward had happened. Should they pretend the Empress had not even summoned them? Could they pretend to shock when someone told them of the fires?

Please, gods. Let me not have brought ruin on us all.

[kth1]

Again [MYG]

Again [Yoongi x Reader] ⟶ Credits: @kimtaehyunq​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU ⟶ Warnings: use of vulgar language, adult content, mature themes, bloodplay, foreplay, creampie, biting, unprotected sex, yoongi is a hungry vampire, bed sex, etc ⟶ WC: 3.5k+ ⟶ Summary: History with a vampire, you think you’d be over it by now. Yoongi comes and goes as he pleases. But why does he keep coming back?  ⟶ Teaser: “He looked up at you through leering eyes, beaming deep garnet because he was so drugged on your blood. Mouth tinted red and in awe, “I told you I’d make it feel good.”” ⟶ Author’s note: Hi, hey, what’s up? It’s been awhile since I dabbled with writing but I’m glad I had creative juices flowing to help motivate me in making some BTS stuff. Many writers and editors have re-inspired me and I’m grateful to them. Also, nearing Halloween, I had to do something like write about a vampire. 😊

A shifting sound alerts you out of sleep. The room is dark, only being illuminated by random electronics throughout the area, like the blinking green light coming from the computer. A weight on your bed silently moved from the side towards the end. You heard a “pounce” sound come from the foot of the bed. In silence you listened to your cat scurry off out the room. It creaked the bedroom door as it exited the room and you listened to her pattering down the hall until the sound disappeared.

Lazily, you cracked open your eyes briefly to check the alarm clock on the stand beside the bed. Noting that it was close to 3:30 am. Inhaling in deep, you try to find composure to continue where you left off. Sleeping.

The standing fan facing your bed blew a soft breeze towards you. It was something you’re used to having, conditioned yourself. The sound of a mere fan helped you sleep at night. The soothing sound created just enough to give you low ambiance during the still nights. Complete silence had its own aura, that made you uneasy. Causing you to stay up listening to you own mind ponder useless nonsense.

You felt the temperature drop, a cooler breeze flowing through your room abruptly that wasn’t created through the single fan. Rolling over to face the wall that had your window, you noticed that it was left open allowing the cool night breeze flow in. Pushing past your navy curtains that shifted with the motion of the air. But you didn’t leave the window open?

As you leaned up in bed to head for the window a mysterious figure emerged into view, quickly making its way towards where you lie. In a blink of an eye you gasped, about to yell out when it leans down suddenly to cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhh… Don’t scream. It’s me.”

With eyes still widened from the shock, you soon relaxed. After recognizing the deep voice that split through my room, you eased back. How long has it been since you last heard this voice? With a nod, giving them the acknowledgement that you won’t shout.

The figure sat themselves down on the side of the bed, indenting their body into the mattress. Releasing their hand off your mouth slowly. It’s not the first time this happened, but it’s something you never fully got used to.

“Yoongi?” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”

His features were lit up slightly from the moonlight piercing into your room. He had a puzzled look to his face, he looked utterly confused. But his features were still stunning as ever. Effortlessly, he looks unreal, skin clear and glowing, hair styled neatly, and his attire clean cut and alternative. No doubt he was beautiful, he is a vampire after all. And most vampires are generally born with an extra little ‘spice’ to them.

But you still worried why he looked so disoriented. Something seemed to be bothering him and for him to randomly show up in the middle of the night, especially after not seeing another for a few months, you didn’t know how to take the situation that was at hand.

He sat still, looking broad and staring into the abyss, locking himself in his own world. Hesitantly, you placed yours hand over his that propped him up on the bed. His skin was cool and smooth, it felt like you just hovered your palm over a marble slab.

Yoongi’s thumb brushed over your fingers, slightly taking a grip of your hand in return. Grabbing hold of it only seconds later and bringing the back of your hand up to his mouth to place a small but sweet kiss. His touch reminded your of being touched by a snowflake that quickly melted by your own body heat. Yoongi lingered there for a few moments; you felt his cool breath exit his nose.

“I missed you, Y/n.”

You sighed. Not this again. There’s no way you could put yourself through this again. You’ve always been there for Yoongi ever since the two of you first met. Helping him in any way you could. But it’s difficult to keep up with him. He’s out of your league to put it nicely. Everything he needs is something you cannot match up to. It takes a toll on you each and every time.

You fully sat up in bed, retracting your hand slowly from his grasp. “Yoongi, we can’t do this,” you admitted. You were scared to put yourself through any more pain. Even though something in the back of your naive mind was yelling at you for saying those words out loud. Deep down you truly cared for Yoongi, truly wanted to be his and only his. But you weren’t enough.

He continued to stare off into the distance, listening carefully to your words. He looked calm though something felt off. That’s one inspiring thing you loved about Yoongi, no matter the situation he was able to give off a cool and relaxed exterior. But that also makes him scary at the same time.

“I need you.”

You blinked at his words. Did you hear him correctly? Yoongi snaked his hand back lacing it with your fingers once again, using his thumb to soothingly rub over it. “Please,” he spoke turning his head to look at me. From what you could make out it looked like he was struggling hard with his composure. His mannerisms felt off. It felt like there was something more to it than he was giving.

Leaning over with your free hand to reach for the light on the stand, Yoongi quickly snatched your wrist and held it still. “Keep it off.”

His sudden movement had you shocked, not as shocked when he broke into my room through the open window and nearly gave you a heart attack a few minutes ago, but shocked, nonetheless. Now you were beginning to feel totally concerned. He was hiding something from you! “Yoongi, what’s really going on with you?” You spoke, biting down on your lip.

Yoongi brought both of your hands to him, holding them close to his chest. He wasn’t one to really show much emotion, not because he didn’t have any, but more because it was difficult for him to express himself. You’re sure he constantly had conflicting thoughts in his mind endlessly.

“I just needed to see you again.” His voice deep, mumbled under his breath.

Yoongi kept his head down, clutching his hands to yours. Was this his way of  showing sincerity?

You leaned towards him, moving your hands up, cuffing his face. Forcing his head up you held his cold face in your warm palms. Easily you could make out more details in his features. Your thumbs brushed along his cheekbones, ones that stuck out more prominent than you remember. It’s still fairly dark around your two bodies and though it was difficult for you to see under his hooded eyes, he had deep dark bags formed. Making him look drawn out.

“Have you been feeding, Yoongi?” You spoke in a soft tone.

He attempted to turn his head away, though you held it still. Instead he averted his gaze and exhaled deeply. “I’m fine.”

“You look pale.” You addressed matter-a-factually. 

He half-heartedly chuckled, “I’m a vampire. I’m supposed to be paler than normal.”

You rolled your eyes at his bluntness. Yes, that was a given, being a vampire and all. “You know what I mean!”

Yoongi shifted himself more on the bed, kneeling towards you. Misery laced through his aura, he looked like he’s been through a tough time. Pain painted across his delicate face.

“Why aren’t you eating?” You asked, pushing his dark bangs away from his forehead with a hand.

Yoongi shook his head, in disapproval of what he’s about to say. What he’s trying to admit. “It’s not satisfying anymore... It’s not the same.”

Cocking your head to the side, like a puppy trying to understand the voice before them. “What?” Your body involuntary moved to the side, opening up space for Yoongi to lay besides you. Patting the newly opened spot, you offered him with a gentle smile. 

He obliged, kicking off his shoes without the exchange of words. Lifting the duvet up and over his thin body once he slid himself closer. Yoongi laid facing you with his precious head resting in the fluff of a pillow. Pieces of his hair flared out, his arm hung loose around your waist; giving you just enough space away but not enough to be completely out of reach.

Your body heat trapped under the covers helped add some temperature to his cooled body. You couldn’t stand the way he looked. Your heart ached seeing his pain. “Talk to me, I’m begging you.” You traced his bottom lip with your index finger, trying to get his lips to open up and move.

Yoongi’s eyes met yours, the set of deep brown orbs connecting back to your own pair. They swirled with hidden emotion. His breath hitched the moment the pad of your finger landed on his mouth. He gulped, “It doesn’t feel right, unless it’s you.”

Your heart beat raised slightly to the reaction of this news. Your mind trying to process what he’s openly saying. “Please don’t say silly things.” You retorted with a scoff.

Something was telling you not to believe him and fall for this. Your mind was only trying to protect your from being hurt once again. But your body… your body ached and longed for Yoongi’s touch. You knew you missed him too, but you were utterly afraid to admit it yourself.

“Since when have I ever lied to you, Y/n?”

You swallowed hard. He’s right. No matter the penalty he was very straight forward with everything. Never giving false hope. So why would he be doing that now? Unless…

He is telling the truth.

You laid there speechless, staring back into Yoongi’s gaze. Not having a single word, a single vowel, not a single sound release from your lips. Just your two bodies placed side by side in soundlessness.

“How long has it been?” You mustered up the courage to ask.

“Two months.”

“But- Why?”

Two months is too long. Yoongi - he was depriving himself. He was willingly starving himself. And for what? Because it’s not the same? What’s not the same? Nothing has changed. He’s vampire. Your human. It doesn’t work. The two of you clash. It’s a reoccurring cycle - it’s all the same.

His gripped tightened around your waist, latching your close into his body and deleting all empty space. Your hands found their place against his carved chest. Faces just inches away from another. He formed a soft smile while looking down to your parting lips.

“Because of you.”

In a smooth motion he leaned in, meeting his thin curved lips to your rosy ones. The sweet savory moment heated up your cheeks, blossoming a hue of red. His tongue eagerly reached forward asking for access to your mouth. It was tender, sensual, and you groaned for him to touch you again. Memories flooding back to your mind of the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that… All impressions of him.

You caved hard under his presence.

Yoongi had a hold on you, curling his free arm to lift your thigh up over him. You extended your hands up into his hair, running your digits through his neat dark beautiful locks, tousling it up during the heated exchange between us. Enough to leave you short of breath as he finally pulled away from the kiss.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate. He trailed kisses from your jawline down to your neck and touching base at your collar bones. Hitting that magical sensitive location that made you go wild. A faint moan escaped pass your lips, “Yoongi…”

He fluttered many gentle icy kisses all around. Tender. Intimate. Lingering. You arched your neck enough to give him more room to continue his actions, to continue making your feel the way you were experiencing once again. He guided his hand up and down your thigh, gaining friction between your skins. You couldn’t help but ease into his delightful touches, slip under the patterns he traced with his slim fingers. Pushing your body up against him as much as you could to feel his hardening member under all the fabric.

“It’s okay, you can.” You muttered.

Yoongi continued to sway your body, completely falling under his spell one more time. He dipped his hand down, pushing under the hem of your shorts and past your pants, gliding a single finger between your slick folds. His digit taunted your clit, that little bundle of nerves controlling your every move. You were a sitting duck under Yoongi’s movements, all nerve endings screaming for him to work his tricky fingers.

“I’ll make it feel good for you.” Yoongi reassured to you.

A puff of air left your mouth; gripping down onto his shoulders. He slides down another finger, copying exactly what he did with the first. Yoongi’s touch is entirely intoxicating. Pressing against that sensitive sweet spot then plunging them deep inside your entrance in one swift motion.

With that, Yoongi licked a firm line up your neck. His trail of saliva coating your supple skin, glistening in the dim light. He curled his fingers up into your core, sliding in fast using thanks to your self-lubrication that collected down there. The tips of his fingers prodded straight into your g-spot, stimulating you even more as his teeth sank into the crook of your neck. The sensation sending shivers all over your body.

You moaned out in pleasure. A wave of sparkly adrenaline raced throughout your veins, washing over with a radiating heat. He hasn’t done it like this before. Oh please, “don’t stop!”

Yoongi sipped down the stream of fresh blood that leaked into his mouth. The impending orgasm that crept up far too fast for your liking had you fluttering your eyes shut. Instantly you body jolted to him, walls clenching hard around his slender fingers, riding out the ripples pacing within you as steadily as ever.

There was no recognition of how clothes flew off of your bodies, but they were on one second and gone the next. Bodies fumbling together, contacting the hot and cold temperatures.

Before you could even register the moment, you felt something thick and hard push pass your entrance and velvety walls, stretching you out with every inch that sank in. Your vulnerable puckered cunt receiving the full length of Yoongi’s hardened cock. 

He looked up at you through leering eyes, beaming deep garnet from the drug of your blood. Mouth tinted red and in awe, “I told you I’d make it feel good.”

Not once has he told you anything but the harsh truth. He never spoke out a lie  and you appreciated everything about that. Not once ever deceived. Mislead. Or felt like he exaggerated from facts or reality. You loved him for this, so much.

You reconnected your lips, pushing yourself pass the taste of iron that came with it. You wanted him, you craved him, you needed him again. Even if it hurt you. Just like this you’ll keep him.

Yoongi hovered over you; dick still submerged into your pussy. Tip entering and exiting you in long strides at a fast pace. Please don’t stop this. God, please don’t.

“Again.” You tossed your head to the side enjoying the pleasurable feeling.

“Okay.”

He locked his teeth back into the juncture of your neck, creating another puncture wound. But it didn’t feel like a wound to you. It felt like a love bit - a mark of his signed and packaged directly to me.

With the weight of him on top, Yoongi’s hips bucked sharp into you, jacking his cock back and forth. Skin slapping together filled the room, you held on tight with legs crossed around his tiny waist. Penetrating you perfectly into bliss.

Yoongi’s mouth moved down to my left breast, immediately contacting it with sloppy wet open-mouthed kisses. Raising a free hand to give attention to the right breast, stimulating and pinching the nipple making it harden within seconds.

“Y/n, I can’t get enough of you.” Yoongi admitted between kisses, botched of blood peppering your skin. 

Face flushed, “Again!” You whined rolling your hips up into him to match his pace.

He can’t get enough of you? You can’t get enough of him. You had wanted nothing more than to feel connected to Yoongi regardless on how different the two of you were. His fangs once again pierced your bare skin, just above the breast this time. How he’s doing this is beyond you, fucking you hard with his dick, sucking you weak. But you still felt more energy than ever.

Yoongi continued his pace, eventually fastening his thrusts and mouth messily moving across your exposed skin. Staining areas with blood as he continued to paint over my body. Unbothered by the look, it felt natural.

Your blood put Yoongi through a craze of his own that he could only experience. Your scent filling up the room for his own satisfaction. Yoongi repays you back with lustful strides of his cock, forcing himself deep against the crest of your cervix. Shifting your body up with every powerful thrust, rocking the bed beneath your molded bodies.

Inaudible voices traded to another. Grunts, moans, growls. You could feel your climax coil in your lower stomach, persisting to blow over again and wishing to wash your body with sporadic twitches and spasms.

Was it the loss of blood in your body making me lightheaded or was it from the wonderful pounding you were getting? Probably both, but you couldn’t imagine it being any other way. If this is the Yoongi you get, you’re going to keep him as long as possible.

“I can tell you’re close. You’re stiffening around me, why don’t you let it go?”

You shook your head stubbornly; refusing to confess him your thoughts. You couldn’t reveal something that would mean nothing to him in the morning. Yoongi furrowed his brows as if he knew exactly what going on in that little head of yours.

Yoongi lifted himself, bending his knees into the bed and positioned one of your legs over his shoulder - giving his cock easier access and angle into your womanhood. Lifting your bottom half up on his thighs and snapping his hips repeatedly into you at this new angle forced you to squeeze your eyes shut, rolling your head back with a gasp. Simultaneously your hands reached out for anything to hold onto, to anchor yourself down. 

He grunted at the sight of you, grinning wide with specks of blood on the corners of his mouth. You laid out in front of him at his own supervised mercy. A puppet and he- your puppeteer. This is what he couldn’t get enough of. What Yoongi missed. What he needed. This is what satisfied him. You laying beneath his control with joy plastered across your face has he’s balls deep into the warm wetness of your clenching pussy, tightening around his fully erect dick. 

But you were delaying the grand finale.

“O-oh god, Yoongi…” You shrieked as the head of his cock forced itself dead on your g-spot, numbing tingles shooting down your legs.

Yoongi wasn’t giving up. He was determined to flush you out completely and taste the rich flavor of your metallic blood. Addicted to the taste and smell of it all.

“You’re going to cum again whether you like it or not.” He hissed.

Forcing his thumb between your legs, he rubbed harsh circles on your clit. His thrusts jammed deep into you, forcing your release to hit you full force. Juices spilling around his cock, sending your body in a raging frenzy. 

He attacked his mouth to your raised thigh, burying his teeth, forming a deep gash and allowing a stream of blood run down the expanse of your leg. Yoongi lapped up the spilled liquid, at the same time using his lower back to roll his hips and chase his own sinful high. He clenched his teeth hard, bruising and mutilating the skin on your thigh once he released his full load into your cunt, earning a shriek of pain from you. Dick throbbing, your walls held onto him tightly, milking every last drop.

Yoongi tossed your legs to the side and collapsed face down into the mattress, panting heavily along with you. Your legs felt a tingly sensation all over besides the area that burned from the mouthful of flesh he dug into. His essence slowly oozing out of your cunt.

Again, your mind flooded with ‘am I good enough’. Did you satisfy Yoongi to make him stay with you or will this be a repetitive process and you will not see him again until he needed to get off? Why does your mind fill with doubt? With everything Yoongi just said, you still refused to believe it.

“Stop thinking.” Yoongi turned to face you.

“I-I can’t help it.” You choked, fresh tears collecting in your eyes.

Shifting so that his body connected to yours, Yoongi placed delicate kisses along your arm all the way up to your face. He latched his arm around your waist, rolling you to face him in return.

“I’m staying. I promise.”

The tears fell, you couldn’t control it. It’s like he read your mind, your body, and soul. Yoongi shushed you with a soft peck to your cheek, and one last one to your lips. 

Yoongi never lied to you. 

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 18

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

~~*~~

Read Chapter 18 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

If Edge were forced to consider it, likely under penalty of punishment and with great embarrassment, he would have been forced to admit that the next week might well be the happiest of his entire life.

The station was running as smoothly as possible, all its occupants working diligently as the good weather held. No major mechanical issues, no emergencies, large or small, and overhead the auroras swirled and spiraled throughout the endless nights. His brother was doing well, going willingly if grudgingly to Alphys for his next healing session, and Alphys began joining them at meals more often than not, sitting next to Undyne who fairly glowed her adoration. All the researchers were busily focused on their work and not a single complaint, petty or otherwise, found its way to Edge’s door.

That was well and good, but not the source of his happiness. No, that came from the cheerful smile of another skeleton Monster who stood at over 2 meters tall and probably weighed no more than 100lbs while he was soaking wet and wearing full outdoor gear, including the boots.

Likely Rus could calculate the actual weight in that brilliant mind of his, someday, Edge should ask.

Rus fit into the station like a puzzle piece they never knew was missing, both at the dinner table as he laughed at Undyne’s lewd jokes and in the lab as he helped Alphys with the delicate calibrations of her machines. When Edge visited Bonnie in the kitchen sometimes Rus would be there, chatting with quick flashes of his hands and even if he weren’t, Bonnie would still be working contently, humming tunelessly beneath her breath.

If Red chose to join the others in the rec room, the evening might end with the two of them in a round of horrible puns and insults that was better than a recorded stand-up routine and left any of the scientists there roaring with laughter, to the point that many came right after dinner hoping to find a good seat.

Then there were his own nights with Rus. It wasn’t simply the sex, delightful as it was, it was also the time afterward. With the curtains drawn back from the window, the aurora cast tangles of complicated light across them, filling the room to the brim. Edge could hold Rus in the circle of his arms and listen as he talked. About his work, about gossip around the station, whatever caught on his clever mind. If Edge were genuinely interested, he could ask questions and if he weren’t, he could simply drift and listen to that rich voice washing over him. And if he wanted Rus to be quiet, well, there were ways to handle that as well and his voice was just as lovely when he was moaning out Edge’s name, his bared bones lit in the soft glow of the southern lights

All of those things packaged together were like an unexpected gift, lovingly wrapped and brought to Edge here at the end of the world.

But was a simple piece of fruit that made Edge realize he was in love.

Edge was only just returning from taking the Glaciologists out to Station #5, a trip that took several hours to get there and back, and left him mostly sitting in the cab of the Cat, half keeping a watchful eye over them as they worked and half on the kindle he’d brought along. By this stage, he could generally trust the scientists not to endanger themselves needlessly out of ignorance or stupidity, or a combination of both, and it gave him a rare chance to catch up on his reading.

When they returned, the scientists had their heads all but glued together as they discussed results, leaving Edge on his own to take care of the vehicle before heading back inside. Before he could make it through the door, a slim body crashed into his own, almost sending both of them into the snowdrifts. Edge caught Rus automatically, sputtering protests and laughter as one as he was smothered in kisses, Rus’s mouth icy cold against his own.

Despite the layers of outdoor gear and gloves, when Rus practically tried to climb him, Edge only caught him under the knees and hefted him up, saying teasingly, “Are you having trouble walking today?”

“if i say yes, will you carry me?” Rus grinned, but he didn’t give Edge a chance to reply, squirming free despite Edge’s attempts to hold onto him. He tugged on Edge’s arm urgently, pulling him towards the door. “come on!”

Edge frowned and followed along, out of the arctic wind into the warmth of the vestibule, "What’s wrong?"

"nothing is wrong,” Rus whispered loudly, “but alphys has this whole place hotwired and it’s a secret!" He made a show of looking around furtively, winking at Edge as he pulled off his boots and coat.

Bemused, Edge did the same, hanging them up as he always did despite Rus’s impatience. He followed Rus back to his room. More like their room; somehow in the past few days, Rus practically moved in, only going back to his own for a change of clothes. Edge’s once empty bookshelves were gaining astronomy magazines and star charts, along with pencils that weren’t his, riddled with teeth marks from their owner absently chewing on them. Even Rus’s work was migrating here, the bedside table was a mess of pages and notes in Rus’s chicken-scratch writing.

Not even a week before Edge would have firmly believed that chaos introduced into his carefully organized life would be infuriating, and yet, even the stray sock in the corner of the room only filled him with fondness, a sign that Rus was still here.

The moment the door closed behind them, Rus crawled up on the bed but instead of a leer or an invitation to an afternoon delight, he held up a triumphant hand. “check this out!”

When he opened his fist, in his palm he held up a small brightly colored globe. An orange, the dimpled peel very nearly the same shade as his magic.

“Where on earth did you get that?” Edge asked, astonished. Oranges were rare treat that they usually only had when the ship first dropped off the researchers. They didn’t keep well and generally the only citrus available on the station came in frozen concentrates.

Rus grinned delightedly at his surprise. “bonnie.”

Of course. Some time ago Bonnie ordered a couple tiny dwarf fruit trees and she’d kept them in her own quarters with a small hydroponics setup that Alphys rigged for her. That was well over a year ago, closer to two, and he’d forgotten about them entirely. Until now.

“she was so excited,” Rus said gleefully, “she said it’s the first fruits she’s gotten!”

“And she gave one to you?”

Rus scoffed as he began carefully peeling the small fruit, “please, like you’re surprised. we all know i’m her favorite. here.”

Truer words.

Rus held out one of the segments, white threads of pith still clinging. Edge took it from his hand, bone lightly grazing bone, and cautiously ate it.

Juice burst across his tongue, almost bitterly sour and as Rus ate his own segment, his pretty face puckered, his grin going into a grimacing wince and in that moment with shared taste of the fruit between them, Edge knew he loved him.

Unremarkable, really. It was nothing like the ridiculous movies that Undyne sometimes watched, loudly claiming they were Alphys’s choice when she was the one sitting there watching with a Kleenex clutched uselessly in one hand as her good eye streamed unhindered and her eyepatch glistened wet over a pretend couple onscreen proclaiming their love.

But there were no fireworks, no lightning flash, not even the aurora blazing overhead. There was only a soft pulse in his soul, a realization.

He loved Rus. Loved his smile and his laughter, the joy he brought into Edge’s staid life. Loved him as he complained, “oooh, sour!”, flopping back on the bed and rolling on the blankets in mock convulsions.

He loved Rus and said nothing, only took another segment of orange when Rus offered it, finishing off the tiny fruit between them.

Rus took the last segment, twirling the little crescent between his fingers. He stuck it between his teeth, tipping his head up in teasing offering, and Edge was not particularly worldly when it came to lovers, but he knew an invitation when he saw one. He leaned down, biting gently on his half of the orange piece and the sourness was tempered in the sweetness of the kiss.

“welp, that’s that,” Rus sighed as he drew back to chew the last bite. “bonnie asked me to save the peel for her cookin’ needs.” Rus carefully set it on the table and his grin turned slyly inviting. “you need to run off for anything important, boss?”

“It’s possible I have a few minutes left to spare,” Edge told him blandly. He let none of his roiling thoughts show in his expression, revealing nothing but uncomplicated desire.

“good thing i’m a minute man—oh!”

Because when the time came, he would need to let this brilliant light go. Rus was as bright as the sun, he needed to get back to the world, and leave this one of frequent darkness behind.

But until then, this was his, and Edge was going to hold it close while he could.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, he wasn’t the only one taking an interest in Rus’s future.

“So, you asked the fashion victim to stick around yet?” Undyne grunted. She was holding up the antenna they were installing for Alphys, a strange, spiraling device made of coils and scaffolding. After Rus’s adventure out in the snowstorm, Alphys devised a way to extend the capacity of their communication devices, her hope being that when she was finished, their cell phones would work as actual phones and not simply as text devices whenever they were close enough to connect to the wi-fi.

It was something that had been discussed before and apparently, all she needed was a burst of inspiration to work it out.

“I have not, not that it’s any business of yours.” The conversation was paused as Edge used the hydraulic drill to fasten the base deep into the concrete slab that held the communications tower. Four screws the width of two of his fingers later, and it was done. Even the fiercest of storms wouldn’t shake it loose. He was less certain about Undyne and swatted her away when she tried to jostle it. She fell back, scowling down at him as he packed up the tools.

“Why not?” Undyne demanded. “Don’t know how it’s escaped your attention, but he’s pretty much the missing jelly from our peanut butter sandwich. He’d do good work here, boss, and we could use another set of hands.”

Edge only busied himself sweeping up the last of the metal shavings into a small tin and sealed it. “I believe I already said that it was none of your business.” Not that he believed anything so droll as ‘not her business’ was going to prevent Undyne from jamming her nonexistent nose in, but he had to try.

From her fierce scowl, he was concluding that the attempt was a failed one. “C’mon, boss, you can hire him on. You and I both know it ain’t about the money. The institute would put him on payroll if you asked and even if they didn’t, we could each kick in enough G to afford keeping him around.”

“You’re right, it is not about the money,” Edge agreed. Some of his irritation leaked in his voice as he pointed out, “Weren’t you the one advertising our relationship as a temporary distraction? In fact, I believe that was one of your major selling points.”

“Yeah, but.” Undyne sighed, shuffling her booted feet awkwardly like an oversized child. “Al really likes him, and she doesn’t take to people easy.”

“I know.”

“And you like him. I like him. Red likes him, fucking Bonnie likes him, and the only other person she’s ever liked is you,” Undyne said, watching Edge finish with the tools without lifting a bratty finger to help despite still having eight to spare. “So what’s the problem here? Once this crew clears out, between you and me, we could get him trained up. On the next rotation, he acts as a junior guide, only works in the local stations. He can keep up with his studies, work on his starry mumbo jumbo as much as he likes, and you two can keep up with your mattress tangoing, after Al adds a little more soundproofing to your room. Win-win, boss, that’s all I’m seeing.”

“There’s one problem with your plan.” Edge picked up the gear bag and headed towards the Maintenance building.

Undyne was on his heels almost immediately. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Rus doesn’t belong here,” Edge replied. The weather was clear and after the racket of the drill, his voice almost seemed to echo in the cold darkness. “We are here because this is the only place in this dust-forsaken world where we can live in peace. Rus doesn’t have to stay, he has his entire life out there to explore and despite your confidence in my skills in bed, I daresay he can find someone else with similar aptitude out there.”

“Aw, c’mon, boss!” Undyne whined.

Edge stopped and faced her, and even through his goggles and hers, she looked upset. Undyne was also not one who took to people easily, cementing proof that Rus was somehow an expert at worming his way into their corner of the world. It did raise a few odd warning bells, reminders of his brother’s concerns over Rus, over his brother who should be dead, warnings that Edge was not ignoring but not allowing to linger in the forefront of his mind. It could be suspicious, or it could be that Rus was simply a very likable person, his personality shone like the stars he watched so diligently. Certainly none of the others on his team could say that, Undyne and Alphys might have a sparkle but Red was more of a black hole and Edge likened his own temperament to a piece of concrete.

Frankly, he rather expected Rus to laugh if he were asked to stay and Edge wouldn’t blame him for it. Rus had less than two weeks left of his rotation and whatever fallout came from him being here, they’d know soon enough.

“Undyne,” Edge said, trying for gentleness. “he has a family, a career waiting for him out there. Staying here at the end of the world will leach that spark out of him.”

Undyne only bared her teeth in a razor grimace, “If you’re gonna talk about him like that, don’t even try to convince me you don’t want him to stay.”

“I never said that I didn’t.” Edge started walking again, deliberately giving Undyne his back.

She didn’t take the hint. “Yeah, well, you might want to ask his opinion on that before you go on ahead and make it for him. Ask him!”

“No, because he might damn well be foolish enough to stay!” Edge snapped. “I want what’s best for him and I am self-aware enough to know that it isn’t me.”

“You sure?” Undyne retorted. She flung an arm out, gesturing to the endless expanse of icy landscape surrounding them. “All this snow ain’t exactly Alphys’s idea of a good time either, but she came with us and she stays.”

Where else could she possibly go, Edge did not say. No matter how truthful it was. Where could any of them go, they’d lived out with the Humans, tried on the idea of a normal life and found the fit to be an ill one. “I’m through discussing this with you, I told you, it’s none of your business.”

“It sure as fucking hell is my business if I have to sit for the next year watching you mope, you bony-ass, stubborn—” she trailed away, her held tilting to the side. Edge heard it, too, both of them turning to the north towards the faint rumbling sound overhead. Lights separated from the starry sky, a helicopter coming in fast.

“Who the fuck…?” Undyne muttered.

Red’s voice came out thin and filled with static over the walkie-talkie. “hey, boss, we got visitors.”

“Yes, we know,” Edge hastened his steps, tossing the tool bag into the Maintenance shed.

“already got the pilot on the horn. says they’re from the institute. he’s got the right landing codes. want me to send them in?”

“Direct them towards the helicopter pad,” Edge told him, “I’m on my way.”

Undyne was close at his side, her face drawn down in concern. “Since when does the Institute do more than send us a new list of researchers and take our supply list?”

“They sent me an email a while ago saying we might be receiving visitors,” Edge admitted, “but they never followed up on it. I’d honestly forgotten.” The unusual missive had gotten lost in the shuffle in the midst of his and Rus’s past argument.

The helicopter pad was as well-maintained as the rest of the station, kept clear of snow and debris despite nearly always being empty. It was generally only for emergencies, although Red threw out the occasional idle jibe that once his skull was healed, he was looking into getting a pilot’s license. As if Antarctica didn’t have enough dangers without his brother dive-bombing down from the sky.

They kept back, watching the sleek machine settle its narrow runners on the pad. The helicopter pilot only waved and did not exit, the side door sliding open and two figures clad in outdoor gear climbed out.

Next to him Edge felt the superheated surge of magic from Undyne, the air suddenly thick with ozone.

The bundled-up visitors coming towards them were obviously Monsters, one of them towering over the other who was not at all short. There were passing few Monsters of that size, less still with a nearly visible aura of power radiating from them, a sign of a boss monster.

They came to a stop a distance away, the larger Monster pushing up their goggles to regard them with eyes that were a deep, solemn shade of red.

“Hello, Captain,” Toriel said clearly. She inclined her head regally to Undyne.

If it was an attempt at diplomacy, it failed from the second word. Undyne puffed up like an angered sea lion, snarling out, “I’m not the one in charge here, you sanctimonious twat,” She heaved in a breath, spit flying as she growled, “and I sure as shit ain’t the captain of the guard, anymore.”

She took a step forward, eye and gloved hands already wreathed threateningly with magic and Edge held her back with a cautioning arm, though Toriel made no move to defend herself.

“Easy,” Edge murmured. He raised his voice, calling over, “What brings you to our station, your Highness.”

“I do, actually.” Her companion stepped forward and a pair of glowing hands formed out of magic appeared in front of them, moving in Hands to form the words even as Edge flinched back in shock at hearing a spoken language he barely recalled from childhood. It seemed somehow far away, like a voice heard in a dream. The other Monster pushed up their own goggles, revealing a be-spectacled skeleton face with narrow fissures running from both their sockets, each in the opposite direction as the other. “I’m looking for my brother.”

tbc

[brideofedoras]

Late for Shift, part 2

I had to do part 2, from Dredd’s POV.  

Word count:  1100+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: smut

Link to part one here

Enjoy!

He hated slipping out of bed in the mornings now that he had Angel in his life.  The urge to just stay in bed and wake her up for lazy morning sex or a quick fuck was getting harder to ignore, especially with how late his shifts would often run.  He had teamed up again with Anderson to take down another crime lord, another drug op.  He had barely seen her all week.

He grit his teeth against a tired groan as he eased out of bed.  Angel had fallen asleep on the couch last night in an attempt to wait up for him.  He’d carried her to bed without waking her.  He knew he would catch hell for it, but he would make it up to her.  Eventually.  His next day off.

Whenever the hell that was.

Dredd silently moved about the room to grab his uniform.  He stilled when he heard rustling behind him and the soft feminine moan that followed.  His eyes slid shut.  That moan was nowhere near sexual, just a regular sleepy little moan following a full-bodied stretch.  But the way she stretched, the way she arched her back and hips, the way her small breasts would thrust out...

He drew in a slow, deep, ragged breath and grabbed his leather jacket.  No time, Joe, he reminded himself when heat pooled low in his belly.  You’re gonna be late already.

He pulled on the jacket and bit back a grin when he heard the near-silent pad of bare feet behind him.  Either she’s not as slick as she likes to think she is, or she wants me to catch her, he mused.  Three… two… one.

He turned his head to glare over his shoulder, knowing full well what that look did to her.  “You know the penalty for attempting to get the jump on an unarmed judge,” he growled out in that gravelly voice he mainly used while on duty.  He turned to grab her wrists and pinned her to the wall.  He wedged his leg between hers when he realized her pupils were blown with need.

“Remind me again?”  The husky tone of her voice nearly brought him to his knees.  It had been far too long since they’d been intimate.  

His frown deepened as he curled the fingers of his free hand around her throat.  “I’m already late for shift,” he stroked his fingers over her soft, warm skin.

Her eyes fluttered shut.  “You were going to sneak out.”

“I would’ve woken you up, Angel,” he lowered his head until his nose brushed hers.  

She tried to lean forward, seeking his lips.  He pressed his solid body against hers to hold her in place.  “Joe…  It’s a crime to tease a woman and leave her hanging…” 

“Sorry, Angel,” he groaned when she hooked her leg around his hip and rocked her core against his leather clad thigh.  “You’d better stop.  I don’t have time.”

“Yet you still have me pinned to the wall, Judge.”

That smile.  That sexy little purr of his title.

Drokk.  If he wasn’t already hard, her little challenge would’ve done the trick.

He grabbed her hips and hoisted her up.  “I knew you were nothin’ but a troublemaker when I met you in Peach Trees,” he swore against her lips.  He kissed her hard and deep as he reached down to undo his pants and palm his length.  

A curse slipped from him when he felt how ready she was for him.  

But she was tight, so tight.  He had to use a little more force than usual to thrust into her.  His hands gripped her hips again, holding still so she could adjust to his thick girth.

Angel’s hands shakily slipped under his jacket to push it off his shoulders.  He shifted to pin her more securely to the wall before dropping his hands from her hips.  The leather fell to the floor with a soft thud.  His hands were back on her a second later, one curving protectively under her bottom, the other cupping her jaw in a rare display of affection.    

“I’m not hurtin’ ya, am I?” his hazel eyes searched hers.  

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  “No,” she breathed.  “Joe, please?”

“Please what?”  

She rolled her hips in reply, squeezing her walls around his length.  “I need you.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled out.  Dredd shifted his hold on her to wrap his left arm behind her back.  “Ready?”

Angel nodded.  

“You feel ready,” he covered her mouth with his before rocking his hips into hers.  He greedily swallowed her moans and cries as he pistoned in and out, in and out.  Hard and fast mixed with soft and slow to draw out the pleasure building deep within.  Fuck but he had missed this.  He had missed her. 

He winced when her hands clutched at his shirt, her nails scraping his back.  “You know better,” he groaned as he dragged his mouth along her jaw to her ear.  

“I’m… ah… sorry…” she whimpered.  He hated his back being clawed and scratched.  “A-accident.  Close…  so close…  Joe, please!”

He clenched his teeth together when he felt his own orgasm building.  He thrust harder, faster, gripping his fingers in her hair.  “Touch yourself,” his command ended in a deep groan at the full body shudder wracking Angel’s body.  

“You… you know it…” her protest broke on a whine when one particularly deep thrust hit the right spot.  “D-doesn’t w-work…  When I…”

“I can’t, Angel,” he groaned.  “Do it.  Please.  Almost there.”

Angel dragged her left hand down his chest, earning a low growl of her name from him as her fingertips grazed his right nipple through his shirt.  

He captured her mouth once more when her knuckles grazed his lower belly.  He felt her grow tighter and tighter around him, the little tremors preceding her release squeezing his length.  He snapped his hips harder into her.  “Come for me, Angel,” he groaned.  

She shattered around him with a low cry.  Dredd thrust harder, drawing her orgasm before he spilled into her with a growl.  He braced his arm against the wall when his knees threatened to buckle.

He hissed out a curse when he slipped out of her.   

Angel clung tighter to him when he straightened from the wall.  “Don’t go, not yet,” she whispered shakily into his neck.  “Five more minutes.”

Dredd loosened his hold on her to reach for the gloves he’d set on the table.  “Dredd to control.”  He waited for a response from control.  “I’m calling out.  Relay message to Anderson.”  His mouth curved into a rare smile when Angel lifted her head.  He dropped the gloves once more.  “Nothin’ but trouble,” he murmured fondly.