#a lot of people were visibly confused lmao just wandering around

[sailoryooons]

Suga's How-To Guide | Interlude One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 9,165

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Explicit language, light mentions of insecurity from reader, explicit sexual content including unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), ass play (small disclaimer: there's no verbal convo / visible discussion about practicing safe rimming - as with any sexual act there's a risk factor so pls don't take this as end all be all), fingering (asssss), nipple play, a lot of spit and cum and bodily fluids idk fam they fucking, recreational drinking (neither party drunk before sex), use of a color system, slut / sex worker shaming (lightly / implied)

☾ Published: October 7, 2022

☾ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble series but it has turned into a little more. Like I have said - this does not specifically have a plot but there will be a pinch of problem solving etc in the next chapter. Reminder: this series doesn't have a goal and I'm updating it whenever I feel like it. There aren't scheduled updates for it, they just sort of happen when I'm vibing with it. Anyway, this feels like it took me 500 years to write but my god I haven't really written a chapter of something in almost a month, though I've done some oneshots. It feels really good to finally have a finished product of something, so thank you for being patient with me. Also I actually edited a chapter LOOK AT ME GO. But if you see errors well I'm not perfect lmao

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Series Masterlist | Part of Hali’s Happy Agust | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The door to Seokjin’s apartment opens as you lean on the counter of the kitchen, drinking wine as a group of your friends pick at an exquisite charcuterie board. Taehyung swings his legs back and forth where he sits on the counter in a heated debate with Namjoon over books while Hoseok and Seokjin both move around one another in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“Will you go see if that’s Yoongi?” Seokjin asks you over his shoulder. “He’s supposed to be bringing a bunch of wine, he might need help carrying it.”

Pushing yourself off the counter, you nod. “I didn’t know Yoongi was coming.”

“Yoongi always comes,” is Seokjin’s answer, though you’re pretty sure that your best friend didn’t explicitly name Yoongi in the list of people he invited over for dinner.

Monthly dinner at Seokjin’s two-story home has always been a thing. As you wander through the door toward the entryway near the living room, you try to think if Yoongi has ever missed one of the monthly dinner parties.

You’ve never noticed before.

Of course, before there wasn’t a reason for you to notice. Before, you weren’t secretly hooking up with a long-time friend on camera for his viewers. Before, you were confident where you stood with Yoongi: a good, albeit a little distant friend that you’d never really consider doing much one-on-one with, but comfortable enough to pair up in crowds.

Now as you see him hanging a rain-slicked jacket, shaking droplets of water out of his damp, ink-black hair, you have no idea what to do. Before was easy. Now is a little bit confusing, especially because you haven’t really spoken much from his little how to give a blowjob segment.

Yoongi looks the same as he always does: t-shirt stretching across a broad slope of shoulders, dark hair curling beneath his ears and resting against milky skin, his onyx eyes fixated on you where you stare at him. All forms of greeting vanish from your brain in a snap.

“Hi,” he offers, eyes dragging up and down your frame. That one look makes your fingers tighten on your wine glass with almost enough pressure to crack it. “Can I bother you for some assistance?”

Yoongi nudges two cardboard box crates full of wine with the toe of his boot. “That’s what Jin sent me for. Holy shit, where do you get all the wine?”

“Friend of a friend owns a winery and they let me pick out two bottles every month. I’m not much of a wine person but they’re great gifts and even better for dinner parties.”

Walking to where he stands in the doorway, you bend at the knee to grab one of the crates by the handle. It’s a hefty weight as you lift it, grunting slightly. “I don’t think we needed a dozen bottles of wine tonight.”

“They’re not just for Jin.” Yoongi smirks as you turn away, stomach flipping. “I brought some for you.”

“Me?” He hums in agreement as you both head toward the kitchen. “For what?”

“Helping me, obviously.”

“Oh. I see.”

“And you said you liked red sparkling wine. I happen to have a few.”

Noise from the kitchen drowns out any response you can think of. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you haul the crate up onto the counter, careful not to knock over the glass of wine next to Chaeyoung’s hand. Yoongi sets his next to you and surprises you by not moving away.

Yoongi starts pulling bottles out and assigning them to friends around the room. Taehyung takes his with greedy hands, eyes flashing as he reads the label and settles back against the counter.

When Yoongi doesn’t touch the second crate, Taehyung notices, pouting. “What about those?”

“Not for you,” Yoongi grunts, focused on pulling the cork from one of the red bottles he’s selected. Hair presses against his neck and temples where it’s still damp. Suddenly, you have the urge to reach out and brush the strands from his skin, but you don’t. “I’m sorry, was a vintage French wine not enough for you?”

Taehyung cradles the bottle to his chest and you have the answer.

Conversation settles around you. Yoongi takes your now-empty glass of wine as he asks Seokjin questions about work, filling the glass with a fizzy red. You watch him curiously. He doesn’t look at you as sets your glass down, corking the bottle.

The wine is sweet and bubbly against your tongue, with a hint of depth and a little bit of cherry. You immediately like it, wrapping both hands around the glass and nursing it like a cup of tea as you exist between the multiple conversations in the room.

In all, your group dinners usually waver between ten and eleven people. Currently, you’re eight strong with conversations ping-ponging across the room and glasses being slid across the countertop in a fashion that would rival Manhattan’s subway systems.

When you had arrived earlier to help Seokjin set up for the gathering, you’d come with shaky hands, breath held, and winced every time he began to ask you something. But Seokjin never asked you the question, which led you to believe your best friend doesn’t know you’ve been hooking up with Yoongi for his cams.

Taehyung’s arrival had been another test. The younger had been your close friend for about as long as Seokjin, and is the only member of your group who has hooked up with Yoongi both on and off camera. There’s no love lost there – they were friends during and remained friends after, completely uninterested in the other romantically.

Thankfully, Taehyung never asked you about Yoongi. He was all smiles with an already-opened wine bottle, purple-stained teeth, and a little smudge of wine on the corner of his mouth.

It is a well-known fact that if anyone is going to be a walking callout and accountability police for your group of friends, it’s Taehyung. And yet he doesn’t even look suspicious when Yoongi leans over the counter to reach for a folded piece of prosciutto, placing his hand delicately on the back of your shoulder for balance.

Yoongi’s touch is only there for a moment and yet you come alive underneath your shirt. Your heart races as you take a few gulps of wine in an attempt to steady your nerves. The room feels hotter and you shift back and forth on your feet, heat creeping into every part of you.

If he notices, Yoongi says nothing. He pops the piece of meat between rose-red lips and frowns at something Namjoon is saying.

Studying his side profile is devastating. Even from a side view, he is exquisite, the soft slope of his nose the perfect compliment to round cheeks, a plush mouth and cat eyes.

Yoongi catches you staring. You clear your throat and look upward at the light fixtures, sipping your glass of sparkling wine to look busy. He leans his elbow on the counter, facing you completely and you know you’ve caught his attention.

Shit.

A direct conversation outside of whatever you’ve been doing with Yoongi on your weekends is exactly what you want to avoid. You’re unsure how to talk to him, unsure if you’re friends or if he’s doing what you guys are doing with other people – he is well within his right to do so and you know that.

But lately, thoughts of Yoongi have been haunting your every waking thought. The way his rough hands brushed over your supple thighs and gripped them tight when he went down on you, or the greedy way he liked to suck your tongue into his mouth just after you’ve come on his tongue or the way he gets breathy just from kissing the expanse of your neck.

The list of things you think about with Min Yoongi is never-ending and they don’t go away. On more than one occasion when your phone has gone off, your heart leaped at the thought that maybe it was him wanting to do another feature. But since the blowjob, you hadn’t really heard from him.

That’s okay. You’re friends, but you aren’t the chatty kind of friends. At least, you weren’t before. Now you have no idea what you are, and the thought of having to navigate it right there in the kitchen, surrounded by other friends makes you put your glass of wine down and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Heart hammering, you follow the steps to Seokjin’s guest bathroom blindly. The way isn’t hard to find – you’ve walked this place a million times.

With the door shut behind you, your nerves unwind a fraction. Turning a faucet, you splash some cool water on your neck. It smells like eucalyptus and mint thanks to the plugged-in scent that doubles as a nightlight. You’ve never been happier to have helped Seokjin pick them out, closing your eyes and letting the smell help you relax.

Getting so worked up over Yoongi feels ridiculous. The rush of the water past your shaking fingers relaxes you and the nervousness you felt at Yoongi’s easy touch peters out.

Being around Yoongi and doubting yourself is hard. You don’t know how to stop thinking about the one thing that has been haunting you more and more, especially when he’s in the same room as you.

You want more.

It feels like a poison, increasing in severity as you acknowledge that your interest in Yoongi has shifted from sexual curiosity to… something else. Something that makes your breath catch when he murmurs baby against sweaty, sticky skin. Something that makes you shake when he puts the weight of his hips on yours as he swallows you whole, consuming you until there’s nothing left but want.

Want want want want.

You always want him and you have no idea what to do with it.

A knock on the door startles you. You stare at the door, hands dripping over the sink filling and draining with water.

“You okay?” your stomach flips when the voice you suspected comes through the door, low and soft.

“Yeah.”

“You sick?”

“No.”

Too shaken to lie, you turn off the faucet and wipe your hands on a towel before opening the door. Yoongi is standing in the dim hallway, eyes shadowed by the lack of light. He smells like his cologne and a hint of mint.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you offer quickly. His brows pull together and you flick the light off in the bathroom to signal you’re done. “Strong wine.”

“You’ve been weird since I got here. Do you want me to leave?” Yoongi doesn’t move. Surprise fills you as you look up at him. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable or if friendship isn’t something you’re interested in anymore.”

“No!” You wince at how loud your voice is.

Thinking better of it, you flick the light of the bathroom back on and pull him inside. His hand is warm and rough in yours and you immediately don’t want to let go after he closes the door with his other hand, but you do.

“No,” you murmur and pause. Yoongi is close, the shared space is smaller now that he’s filling it with you. He leans against the tiled wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps strain against his shirt sleeves and you fight off a shudder. “I just… I’m sorry, you make me a little nervous.”

He hums. “You’ve been in a relationship for a while, is it safe to assume you haven’t really hooked up with a friend casually?” You nod. He offers a soft smile. It’s not as cocky and self-assured as his smirks are. “You can just be yourself. I really like you that way.”

Your eyes flit up to him. “It’s hard.”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No. It’s…” You blow out air, looking up at the ceiling to take the pressure off of you. His gaze is intense. Yoongi still looks unperturbed. It feels like everything comes easily to him. “I just like spending time with you and it’s a little confusing where we stand.”

Realization settles on Yoongi’s features when you peak at him. He takes a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to contemplate your words. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you decide you’ve said the wrong thing and you’re about to leave when Yoongi says, “Come home with me after dinner.”

“What?”

He smiles. “Come home with me after dinner.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to. But I’d like you to. Off camera.”

Your heart flutters and you stare at him, mouth open slightly. “Off?” You clarify. “Off camera?”

“Just us.”

“Really?”

His laugh is deep, brushing against parts of you that make your toes curl. He reaches for you, fingers gripping the bottom of your shirt and giving you a sharp yank. A gasp escapes you as you crash into his chest, hands pressed against the firmness of him as he looks down the slope of his nose at you, lips twitching.

Yoongi is beautiful, but up close you can’t focus on anything else but the way his eyes glitter, or the way the wine stains his lips the perfect shade of red or the way he has the barest hint of freckles across his cheekbones.

The way he looks at you says thousands of things and you don’t know what any of them are, but you want to. You want again.

“Yeah.” His words are barely audible. “Really.”

Without warning, Yoongi closes the space between you, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss. Before you can enjoy the sweet taste of wine and the warmth of him against you, his mouth is gone, leaving you flustered and hungry for more.

Yoongi laughs. “Don’t pout. Later. Come on, I was supposed to see if you’re sick. Dinner is ready.”

Dinner is easier after your conversation with Yoongi. Between Seokjin and Yoongi, you’re more involved in the conversation than you were earlier. As the chatter dies down after dinner and everyone enjoys their wine, you feel Yoongi’s arm press against your back as he rests it against the back of your chair.

The room is warm as you lean back, sliding your eyes to look at Yoongi. He’s not looking at you, completely wrapped up in a conversation with Chaeyoung. His arm is looped casually, skin against the back of your shirt warm through the fabric. Heat creeps up your neck into your face and you bite down a smile as you turn back to Seokjin.

If Seokjin notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Taehyung, however, definitely notices.

Taehyung’s sharp gaze is laser-focused on you, capturing your attention beyond Seokjin. His eyes meet yours and flicker to Yoongi’s hand where it rests against you before coming back up to meet your eyes. Your mouth feels dry for a split second before Taehyung grins and wags his eyebrows at you. He throws a wink your way before turning away.

A quiet, slow breath of relief escapes you. Taehyung knows something is different but doesn’t care. That is at least one less hurdle to overcome, though you know he’ll needle you about it later.

That is if he doesn’t do any digging around on Yoongi’s cam profile.

When dinner is over and there are buzzed, soft goodbyes happening at the door, you find yourself next to Yoongi who claps Seokjin on the shoulder, informing him that Yoongi will drive you home. You’re not drunk, but you hold the giant carton of wine Yoongi has dedicated to you while you kiss Seokjin on the cheek and say your goodbyes.

Taehyung presses a kiss to your cheek, slips toward your ear, and murmurs, “You’ll have to fill me in.”

You bite your lip but nod, feeling nervous as you shuffle out of the apartment with Yoongi at your back.

It’s cooler outside, the air a relief against too-warm skin. Yoongi takes the carton from you, heaving it far easier than you were as he walks down the stairs easily. Rain-scented air greets you in the parking lot, the pavement still damp. You jump around puddles, navigating to his nondescript, black car.

Yoongi opens the door with a cheeky grin. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you answer, rolling your eyes. His grin spreads when he shuts the door and rounds the vehicle to place your wine in the back and slip into the front seat.

Inside the car is meticulously clean and smells faintly of cologne and leather. Music plays softly in the background, almost imperceptible over the hum of the engine and the buzz of the tires on the highway as he drives toward his apartment.

The city is made up of stars spilled on a black canvas, winking in the night as he drives with one hand firmly on the wheel. The other slips to your thigh, giving you a squeeze. The gesture tugs at your heart and your fingers shake with a touch of excitement as you look over at him.

“How was your week?” he asks, slipping into a simple conversation.

This feels easy. You tentatively let your hand rest on top of his against your thigh. When his thumb brushes over your jeans you feel hot. You know there are goosebumps under the material, popping up every time his thumb strokes back and forth.

Though it feels wrong to compare Yoongi to your ex-boyfriend, you can’t help it. You don’t remember the last time you felt an intimate hold on your thigh or hand while driving. You don’t remember fielding questions about your favorite movie – Spirited Away – and why.

Yoongi and your ex are very different. Maybe he was different at the beginning – it was college and it’s hard to remember. Yoongi was always different though, a comforting and quiet presence in plenty of your memories.

Now Yoongi presses against your mind like glass, leaving fingerprints everywhere he touches. You don’t mind, especially when he grips your hand tight after helping you out of the car, leading you up to his apartment.

Linked hands swinging in the cool night, bottles of wine clinking softly and the squeeze of Yoongi’s fingers around yours before he lets your hand go to open his door is something you could get used to.

The thought is terrifying. There is no routine here. Nothing familiar except the smell of his candles long put out, and the dark softness of a familiar apartment. But you’ve never been here when there is no camera set up in his room. You’ve never been here without the bright halo of a ring light.

Yoongi turns on a lamp, leaving most of his home in mood lighting. He gestures to a bottle of wine and you nod, sliding onto a stool at his island countertop. He moves around his apartment silently, feet scuffing on the title as he slides a bottle out from your gifted crate to pop the cork. You grin as he pours you a modest glass.

It’s different from the wine you tried before – it’s on the drier side, but there are still notes of chocolate and heady fruit. The bubbles tickle your tongue as Yoongi pours himself a glass, coming around the counter toward you.

Genuine surprise sparks through you when Yoongi doesn’t take the seat next to you. Rather, he walks behind you wrapping an arm around your waist as he hugs you to his chest, slotting his chin against your shoulder while he sets his hand and wineglass on the counter next to yours.

Heart hammering, you turn your head to the side slightly to look at him. You can only see an up-close visual of the side of his face, but he’s stunning nonetheless. He has to be able to feel the way your heart slams against your ribcage as he squeezes you slightly, lips turned upward. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against you, his breathing deep and soothing.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

“Missed having you around.”

“You could have called.”

He shrugs a bit and lifts his wine. You watch as he struggles to sip correctly with his chin on your shoulder, making you giggle a bit. He places the wine back on the counter. “I wasn’t sure if you would want me to without the invitation of helping me out.”

“Really?”

“I mean – we’re friends but we’ve never hung out one-on-one until you started helping me. I didn’t want to push a limit by asking you to come over if that wasn’t what you wanted.”

It’s true – it was the exact same fear you’ve harbored all week. Hearing Yoongi repeat back your own anxiety melts you, the remaining stress leaving as you press your weight back into him, pivoting slightly in your seat so that you’re angled a bit better.

Long lashes blink above starry eyes. His cheeks are a touch pink – cotton candy against tan skin. Berry lips smirk at you, so close you can smell the sweet wine on his breath. You imagine his mouth tastes like dark cherries and a hint of chocolate.

“What do you want?” Yoongi’s words are breathy against your warmed skin. “Just curious. You don’t have to answer. You don’t even have to know. But I get the sense that you want something.”

“I don’t know,” you admit, eyes zeroing in on his. You could fall into those depths and keep falling forever. “I just- I just know that I want. It’s a feeling I can’t get rid of. I don’t know what to do with all of this want.”

“Give it to me,” Yoongi answers. “Give all of it to me.”

Before you can formulate a response, his lips are on yours. He turns you to face him fully, slotting himself between your thighs as his hands grip the sides of your neck. He pulls you in and you feel that want bloom again. He tastes just as you expected, sweet like wine. His kiss is hungry, matching the desire that has been gnawing at you for weeks.

Yoongi licks into your mouth, tongue ravenous as he tastes you. He pulls away for a moment, teeth pulling at your bottom lip as he catches a short breath before melding his mouth to yours again.

His hair is silk between your fingers, slipping easily as you pull him closer and closer and closer. Want pools low in your belly and you squirm in the seat. One of his hands moves toward the base of your throat, fitting his fingers perfectly on either side to give a gentle squeeze.

Both of you part slightly, exchanging breath as you pant, lips an inch apart and glossy. You open your eyes to look at him. His pupils are a little blown, looking at you like he wants to devour him. You would willingly crack yourself open for him and let him have his way with you, the craving for him overriding every anxiety and instinct you have.

“Color?” he asks, breathless. You feel lightheaded, your fingers wrapped firmly in his hair to keep you from floating away. His grip on you is firm but you want more. “I need to know.”

“Green,” you whisper. You tug his hair gently. “Please.”

It’s the only word you can think of. It’s the only word you need.

Yoongi understands. He asks nothing else of you as he reclaims your lips, nose brushing against yours as your tongue tastes the softness of his lips.

Kissing Yoongi always takes you somewhere else. You no longer feel like you’re in his kitchen, pulling and clawing at one another against the marble countertop. You feel like you’re in a place in-between, tangible and yet not quite there.

Floating forward, you let Yoongi pull you from the seat. His hands are on your waist, waltzing you toward his room. You know the steps. There’s no need to open your eyes, navigating the dark space as you slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.

Yoongi’s stomach is soft, muscles jumping under your touch. He breaks the kiss, dragging spit-slicked lips across your jaw. He catches your skin between his teeth in soft nibbles, a soft sting followed by a soothing tongue.

Running your hands under his shirt, you flatten your palms. He feels warm and thrumming, full of life. You tilt your head backward, letting him suck and bite and moan into the soft flesh of your throat.

Everything is spinning. You feel unbalanced as he clutches you by the waist. You bow into him, Yoongi pressing you further and further as his teeth trace the bottom of your neck.

It feels like the bubbles from your sparkling wine are trapped in your veins. Yoongi’s hands slide to your ass, kneading you over your jeans. He pulls you in tighter, presses every part of you against him. It feels hungry and desperate, drawing a gasp from your mouth as you crush yourself against him.

A pat on your ass is your only warning as Yoongi bends slightly at the knee. You jump as he hoists you and turns, sitting on the bed with you in his lap. Your hands fly to his shoulders as he gives you the higher ground, your face hovering above his as he casts his head back to look at you, pupils blinking at you like twin moons.

For a moment, you don’t initiate kissing again. With one hand on his shoulder, you use the other to trace the veins in his neck, feeling his pulse throb under your fingers for a brief moment as you drag them upward.

Yoongi is a work of art. He lets you map the canvas of his face with the tips of your fingers. Soft, round cheeks. A strong brow bone. Gentle, rounded nose. Plush, pouted lips. You trace the faint freckles, almost invisible in the darkness of his room. You’re so close you could count his lashes as they flutter closed, a hum escaping him as your fingers brush his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur. The accidental admission makes your touch freeze, eyes flying to his to see if there is any rejection there.

Yoongi doesn’t open his eyes when he says, “Why’d you stop? Feels nice. Your touch always feels good.”

Lips twitching into a smile, you continue, finger following the curve of his jaw. Your eyes keep flickering to his mouth, though, and soon you’re diving in for more, pressing your lips to his as you give a tentative rock of your hips, grinding into him.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate. He hums in delight, the hands resting on your ass giving a generous squeeze. He lets you play with him – fingers teasing the hair at the back of his neck, your mouth exploring the areas you’ve already traced with your fingers, your hips rocking slowly at whatever pace you desire.

Arousal pools in your stomach, low and sinking. You break briefly when he pulls your shirt over your head, a glossy line of spit connecting your mouths for just a second, broken by the shirt.

Every brush of his hands on your skin brings fire. You’ve never known touch like this, never thought you could want something so much. You want everything from him, you want to scream, you want to collapse into him on the bed.

Yoongi’s mouth is ravenous, sucking the swells of your breasts as he pulls your bra off of you. you lean backward, chest pushed toward his mouth, head cast back and eyes closed. Yoongi knows what you want, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. A moan escapes, his tongue flicking back and forth over your pert bud while his other hand comes up to squeeze your other tit generously.

Every flick of his tongue, pluck of his teeth and his moans vibrating from his lips to your chest sends you spinning. It’s an effort to cling to his shoulders, keeping you sitting in his lap instead of tumbling backward. You feel like if you let go, you wouldn’t even fall – you’d just float upward toward the ceiling, toward heaven.

The world tilts. Yoongi lays backward, careful to keep you balanced against his hips. You gasp, equilibrium thrown and feeling like you’ve crashed into another dimension. You sit up for a moment, dizzy and looking down at Yoongi while you straddle his waist. His hair fans around him, lips swollen and dark from kissing. His chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes half-lidded but pupils blown.

With possessive hands you pull at his shirt, making a sound somewhere between a huff and a whine. He chuckles, his traditional sideways smirk taking over his expression as he leans up, helping you remove his shirt.

In your dreams, you remember what Yoongi’s skin feels like. It pales in comparison to the warmth of him now, firm chest under your adventuring fingertips, his heart jumping as you lean down to teeth at his collarbone.

Under you, Yoongi is a vision. Little curses escape his lips, almost like he can’t stop them. He rolls his hips into yours, seeking friction, drawing out moans from your lips, breath drifting across his skin.

Yoongi is flushed all over and his patience for your seeking mouth is at an end. He rolls the two of you, making you squeal as your back hits the mattress and his weight sinks on top of you. It’s heavy and the air is hot between you, his lips brushing your earlobe as he nips you.

“Color?” his voice is deeper.

“Green.”

For a moment he doesn’t answer. Instead, he sucks gently on your ear, breathing low and soft as he exhales. “Turn over,” he instructs gently. “Jeans off, perfect ass in the air.”

Pulling away from you, Yoongi gives you space to pull at the button on your jeans. He joins your shuffling, tearing at his own jeans. In moments you’re both kicking the material from your ankles, giggling as you lose balance and he catches you by the elbows, placing a kiss on your nose.

“Cute,” you hum.

He grins. “Ass up,” he reminds you.

With an eye roll, you do as he says despite the excitement shooting through you. You’re on your knees shuffling to your elbows when he slaps your ass with a loud crack, making you gasp more from surprise than pain. His hand is quick to rub over the stinging flesh, pressure in his fingers firm as he massages dimpled skin.

“Sorry,” he snickers. “I couldn’t help myself, I should have asked.”

“I liked it.”

He hums and smacks your ass again, much lighter, though. “Noted.” His hand drifts toward the apex of your thighs, thumb pressing firmly over your clothed hole. The pressure is a surprise, making you moan out loud, forehead dropping to his sheets.

“Fucking wet.”

Yoongi is right. You’re soaked, the thin material of your cotton underwear clinging to your folds. The pressure of his thumb gently drifting up and down your pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back, breathing becoming shuddered as he absently plays with you.

His thumb leaves you and your eyes flutter open, already missing the pressure. He distracts you when his hands drift to the elastic waistband and asks, “Color?”

“Green.”

“Mmm. Good.”

Yoongi all but rips the underwear to your knees. He leans forward and bites the apple of your ass lightly, making you laugh as he waits for you to lift one knee at a time to slide the material off.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he asks, pulling his teeth away. The air cools your skin where you can feel his spit. “I said I like your ass.”

“So you try to eat it?”

He pauses long enough that you frown, turning to look over your shoulder at him.

It’s a vulnerable position, your knees spread apart with your aching pussy on display for him. You squirm slightly, seeing him look at you with an expression between inquisitive and hungry. “Has anyone?”

“Has anyone what?”

You shiver in the cold room, unable to sit still as the cool air hits you between the legs. Your eyes flutter lightly and you desperately want him to close the distance between any part of him and your heat.

“Eaten your ass?” That makes you open your eyes. You shake your head no and he grins, shuffling close to you. His hands go back to your round cheeks, rubbing his palms over chilled skin to warm them again. “Can I? We don’t have to. I definitely want to eat this pussy.” A hand sips between your legs, fingers deftly brushing up your wet slit. “Wanna play with your ass too.”

“Are you…” the words drift off as you lick your lips.

No one has done that before. It isn’t that you’re afraid of someone’s mouth being there or afraid you won’t like it. It’s just different and no one has offered it before and it never occurred to you to ask. 

But it’s Yoongi asking now, and your curiosity is piqued.

Yoongi must sense your nervousness. He squeezes you. “We don’t have to, forget I-“

“I want to,” you cut him off. You chew your bottom lip. “I think. I don’t know what it feels like.”

He smiles. “I like it. We can always stop if you’re not enjoying it. If it’s not good, tell me.” His pointer finger presses to your clit, making you sigh as pleasure shoots down your spine at the pressure. “First, this.”

Yoongi vanishes from your vision. You feel the bed dip where he leans, his hands skating from your ass to your thighs, rubbing up and down. Your eyes close and you sink your face into his bed as he places chaste kisses on the back of your thighs.

Fear of imperfection does not exist here. None of your previous concerns cross your mind with Yoongi – not anymore. Especially when he digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs and strokes his tongue slowly up your slit.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, unable to help yourself as pleasure shivers through you. It feels different from this angle as Yoongi slowly laps at your cunt with his tongue, mouth giving your pussy a gentle suck. “Yoongi- nnn.”

His hum vibrates through you as he leans in to gently pull at your clit with his lips. “My favorite fucking pussy.”

Even if you could respond, you don’t. Yoongi shoves his face in your cunt, tongue licking slowly and greedily. You can feel yourself dripping, fingers knotting in his sheets as he mouths at you.

The feeling that twists in your stomach is so tight that you feel like you sink further and further into his mattress, turning boneless. Yoongi uses his fingers to spread you wide open for him, alternating between fucking his tongue thoroughly into your clenching hole and giving broad, slow stripes up your entire pussy.

If there is one thing you can tell Yoongi enjoys, it’s eating you out. He doesn’t hide his enjoyment, his mouth messy and loud as he sucks at you. His hands do all the work holding you up as he continues to push his face into you.

Unyielding hands skim up to your cheeks. Yoongi spreads you a bit, pressing you into the bed further with the weight of his grip. With another long lick from clit to hole, Yoongi licks past your dripping entrance to tentatively flick at your perineum.

The feeling is different, making you hold your breath. His tongue continues with a few tentative licks and one of his hands leaves your ass, drifting to your clit. Your legs tremble as he applies gentle pressure, circling your clit with his fingers as he flicks his tongue against that new spot again.

It feels… nice.

A sigh leaves you as Yoongi drags his tongue upward, pressing it flat against your tight hole. You sigh as he curiously flicks over the unfamiliar spot. Each new pass of his tongue makes you shiver. You feel a little high, your cotton-candy-mind fuzzy and drifting.

Everything nerve feels like an exposed wire, sparking and jumping as Yoongi presses the flat of his tongue against your rim. The pressure feels good, something you didn’t expect. You relax further into the mattress, melted and mindless.

Noises fall out of your mouth. You're unable to stop them, lips parted and breathing sharply. Sometimes your breaths form his name, a curse, or something in between. The orgasm building in your stomach is white hot, your insides squeezing tightly as you begin to dig your fists into the bed, trying to release the tension.

“Color?” Yoongi asks. You mumble something incoherent, eyes rolling backward under closed lids. He presses a finger harder to your clit. “Color, baby. Try to tell me.”

“Green.”

You think it comes out something like grnn or gren – it's hard to tell with your words muffled in his dark sheets and the heavy feeling of your tongue in your mouth.

“All fucked out?” his words are deep as he kisses your ass cheek. “Feels good?”

“Mhmm.”

“You gonna be able to take my cock?”

You nod desperately. You want to feel the weighted slide of Yoong inside you, want to feel the pleasure as he sinks in. But you haven’t even cum from his efforts with his mouth yet and you feel dangerously close to passing out from delight.

But you want him. So you search for some clarity and come to, clearing your throat and getting up to your elbow as you gently push your ass backward him. “Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Mmm.” Yoongi dips his head down and gives a quick prod with his tongue. You drop your forehead to the bed, panting heavily and arms shaking. He pulls away briefly before spitting, making your muscles spasm as you gasp. “Cute little hole.”

You hear the grin in his voice. “Fuck - Yoongi.”

Carefully, Yoongi’s fingers go back to your clit, circling faster. Your stomach lurches. Warmth spreads over your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your ass backward to meet his hungry mouth. It feels like you’re going to explode, your pleasure so tightly wound that you know you’ll snap at any second.

Everything clenches all at once. You gasp and hold your breath. Your orgasm rushes out of you, pussy pulsing against Yoongi’s mouth as he hungrily sucks and licks at you. You can feel his hands rubbing up and down your thighs, the press of his mouth firm and unrelenting as you tremble against the sheets.

Catching your breath is hard. Yoongi pulls away from you as your legs give out on the bed. His palms are steady, kneading the flesh of your ass as he lets you claw your way back to the world of the living. Everything feels thick and heavy in your head as you roll over, breathless.

Yoongi kisses your knees and thighs, hands never pulling away from you. You look at him and you twitch through another shiver. The air is cold against your body but you feel over-warmed by your orgasm and the heat of his gaze as he stares at you.

Surging forward, you reach for the hem of his boxers, hardened cock straining under the dark fabric. Yoongi watches with lips curved upward as you sit up and shuffle to him, hands hanging loosely at his side. You feel the burn of his gaze as you brush your fingers up his shaft, feeling him through the material of his briefs.

Yoongi hisses, making you glance up at him as you use a finger to delicately trace the outline of his straining cock. His eyes are closed, head tilted toward the ceiling in prayer. You grin, gripping him firmly through the fabric, the curve of him heavy and warm in your hand.

“Mm don’t tease,” he mumbles. “I didn’t tease you.”

“This is fun, though.” You dip your hands under the elastic waistband and grip Yoongi’s cock firmly. His hips twitch and he opens and closes his fists, his breath coming out shaky. “You’re pretty.”

Carefully, Yoongi helps you take his briefs off before letting you mouth at him. He hums in response but otherwise remains to kneeling with his eyes closed, letting you do what you want.

Watching Yoongi’s minute expressions and body language as you pull him out in full is fascinating. His lips and brows twitch when you take his cock in your palm, stroking to the tip to gather the precum there. You work your hand up and down firmly, lubricating his cock with gentle twists.

Little sounds escape Yoongi’s mouth, making your grin spread. Everything he does pulls you in. His hips thrust lightly into your hand, his mouth is parted, neck shining with a light layer of sweat. It’s addicting, the way he loses himself at your touch, completely at ease and safe in your hands.

Surging forward, you take the crown of his dick into your mouth, swirling your tongue around. He curses loudly, a hand shooting to your head. His fingers are firm against your scalp, not pushing but clinging to you desperately as you low the spit in your mouth to dribble down the sides of his cock.

The salty taste on your tongue spurs you further, sliding down a little further each time you bob your head. It’s slick and messy but you don’t care, using a combination of your tongue and hollowed cheeks to slurp at Yoongi generously. You hum around him as you pull away from him with an audible pop, a string of spit chasing you.

Yoongi, though appreciative, has had enough. He surges toward you, pulling you gently by the hair to lay you back as he crawls on top of you, lips going to your neck and jaw. He presses himself between your hips. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate him, hips sticky with sweat and leaking arousal where your skin presses flush together.

For a few seconds, Yoongi’s mouth leaves you to reach for a drawer. You don’t know what spurs you still is movement, hand wrapping around his forearm firmly. He glances down to see you, your eyes round and hopeful.

“No condom?” he asks, arching a brow.

“We exchanged test results,” you murmur. It’s true – you had done that before hooking up with him in the first place. “And I’m on birth control. I mean – we don’t – sorry. I realize that’s not-“

He interrupts your thoughts with a soft kiss. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just…” his breath is hot against your face, his nose brushing against yours. “I realize that you may have other partners, I didn’t mean to assume and-“

“I don’t.” You stare at him, heart beating wildly. “It’s just been you since we started. I’d tell you if I was sleeping with more than just you.”

“Oh.”

You feel his smile more than you see it, his lips pressing against your cheek. “So you want me to fuck you raw, huh?”

You laugh at the way he says it, shoving at him slightly. He doesn’t budge, nipping your chin. “Just wanna feel you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” His hands scrape up your sides, cupping your tits as he licks and sucks the flesh around them. “How do you want it, hmmm?”

Instead of answering him, you roll, pressing your ass toward him. Yoongi kisses up your back, hands coming to either side of you as he cages you in with his chest.

“Mmm.”

Yoongi gets to his knees as you shift to all fours, looking over your shoulder at him as he shuffles behind you. His chest is pink and red, splotchy with warmth, and flushed from effort. He strokes his proud cock a few times, your eyes zeroing in on the motion. His tip is flushed scarlet from your teasing and slick with spit and precum.

His other hand comes to dip between your legs, teasing your clenching hole lightly. You whine and shimmy your hips, pressing toward him. He tsks at you but grins before pulling you open a little more. He has your knees spread far apart as he grips the base of his heavy cock to prod your entrance.

“Fuck.” You go down to your forearms, ass higher than your head. He makes a sound between a laugh and a moan as he slips his cockhead further, running it up and down your pussy to gather your slick. You’re a dripping mess and you don’t care. “Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he slides his cock past your entrance again. You clench around noting, frustration building. “Want it, hmmm?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you’ll get it.”

Even though he warns you, Yoongi catches you off guard as he glides his cock forward, making it a point to slide in this time. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as you breathe in sharply, the pressure of him sliding in on one thrust sending you spinning.

Yoongi’s cock is thick, filling every part of you as he sinks to the hilt. You feel his hips pressed against you, still for a moment as your pussy flutters around him. Your hands twist in the sheets, trying to ground you as you breathe through pleasure with the barest hint of pain.

“You okay?” his voice is deep and rumbling, pulling you back to reality.

You nodded your head, forehead pressed to the bed. “Feels so fucking full.”

Yoongi let’s out a breathy sound as he pulls back, the slide of him glorious against your walls before he thrusts in again. He glides without resistance, each slow pull sparking in the softness of you. Moans drip from your tongue.

Every roll of Yoongi’s hips is measured, setting a deep, gentle-stroked pace. It feels so good, like the tip of his cock is in the deepest parts of you.

When you start to thrust your ass back to meet him, Yoongi grunts, picking up the pace in earnest, fucking into you with force. You feel the weight he puts behind it, his cock brushing your spot each time and fuck you swear his cock is hitting the depth of your stomach, so deep you’re delirious.

“Oh god,” you gasp, trying to get a single, steady breath in. It’s hard, breathing past the electricity humming along each vein and the pleasure curling its fingers in your stomach. “Fuck – holy shit – fuck.”

“Pussy feels so fucking good,” Yoongi growls. He’s fucking you harder now, the slap of his hips against your ass audible. “You’re so wet, just fucking drooling on my cock.”

“Deep,” you manage to moan out, the only word that rolls around your rapidly emptying mind.

Yoongi changes the angle, hiking a foot up so that he’s almost lunging over you. His fingers claw into your hips, pulling you backward to spear you on his cock over and over and over. It feels so goddamn good that you should have known you would be a goner for him.

And then he introduces a thumb pressed firmly to your ass, the pressure on the nerves there enough to make you fall forward. Your breath gets caught in his sheets as Yoongi’s thumb circles your tight rim, not slipping in but playing with it enough to send your eyes back in your head.

You’re unsure if you’re even participating as you skyrocket toward another orgasm. You can’t say anything, can’t think anything – you’re helpless and whining as you suddenly go taught like a bowstring, pussy clenching around his cock as you come.

Yoongi is vocal, grunting as you squeeze him. He fucks you even harder, elevating your high. A squeal escapes you as you shake from overstimulation, the pleasure blinding you momentarily and making you go numb.

Everything flips as Yoongi pulls out and rolls you. It’s not graceful, but your tangled limbs follow his hands and movements as he spreads you out on his bed, breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead, slick cock bobbing against his stomach as he stares down at you. In return, you blink back up at him. You’re on the border of something like subspace, the pleasure sending you into a dark, fuzzy corner of your mind.

“Color?” he asks, hands soft on your spread thighs.

“Green.” You lace one of your hands with his, squeezing. Hair sticks to the back of your neck and the sheets beneath you smell like sweat and cum but you don’t care. “Green.”

“Can you give me one more? Wanna see your face when you lose it.”

You nod and reach for him. He seems confused but leans down, letting you brush sweaty hair from his face. His eyes close at the soft touch, letting you press the pads of your fingers into damp skin as you trace the shape of his features again.

“Wanna see you too,” you admit softly.

That earns a smile from Yoongi, the kind where he ducks his head shyly and it’s all gums and crinkled eyes. You love when he smiles like that. It makes your heart flutter, interrupted only when he thrusts back into you without warning.

You gasp and he chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you manage to grit out. You arch your back as Yoongi pauses to lean back, grabbing your right leg, lifting it and shifting your position so that both of your legs are pressed together, draped over his shoulder as he leans into you. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he pants, setting a hard and fast pace as he fucks into you. “I know.”

The angle is divine. Your thighs pressed together make your pussy feel tighter. You swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as Yoongi fucks into you hard. His thrusts are shallower and he bites his bottom lip, focusing on the way his cock disappears inside your heat.

In this position, you can watch him. His stomach flexes with every movement, muscles jumping and twitching. His hips are glossy with sweat and cum, but he doesn’t care. One hand grips your half, fingers dimpling in your skin while the other holds your hip.

One of your hands shoots to the hand at your hip, gripping his wrist as your eyes roll back into your head. You feel your orgasm again, rapidly approaching though not as strong as the second one. You can’t remember anyone ever making you cum over and over like this, but Yoongi is relentless, chasing after it.

“Touch your clit for me baby.” He’s busy holding your legs and hip to do the work for you. He kisses your calf, gentle in comparison to the way he’s throwing all of his weight into his thrusts. “I’m so fucking close.”

Following his instructions makes you squirm. You deftly circle your throbbing clit with your fingers, the stimulation making you shudder and whine. He laughs and encourages you to keep going.

The sensitivity is replaced with mind-numbing pleasure. You can feel your third release on the horizon, your breath hitching, and your moans coming out as high-pitched staccatos.

“Shit,” he curses, head ducked down. “Fucking squeezing me.”

Something about the way he’s fighting to stay composed sends you over the edge. You almost don’t feel yourself come, everything going white-hot and tingling at once. Yoongi come with you, losing his rhythm, curses laced with your name.

Time seems not to exist in the space between you. Yoongi pulls out – you only know because you suddenly feel empty. Cum drips down your entrance to the bed, the sticky feel of it slightly uncomfortable as you lay with your head to the side, unsure how to move or do anything else.

There are no thoughts. There’s just contentment and trying to catch your breath. Everything feels hot all over, like there is a fire burning under your skin. Yoongi collapses next to you, a human furnace. You don’t move away from him though, a hand automatically seeking any part of him to keep the connection between your body.

You find his collarbone, splaying your hand across his skin. His heart thuds underneath your touch. He lays a hand on top of yours, palms sticky with bodily fluids.

As your breathing slows, you don’t know how long you lay there. It feels messy but you’re tired, and just as you begin to teeter into the depth of sleep, Yoongi stirs and nudges you. A whine escapes you, but you let him pull you out of the bed, careful hands guiding you through dim light to shower.

Yoongi doesn’t turn the lights on in the bathroom. A single salt lamp casts a soft glow, more than enough for you to safely step into the glass shower. The spray of hot water uncoils already loose muscles. Your knees buckle a bit when he leaves you, but Yoongi makes sure that you’re standing safely before he steps out briefly and vanishes into the bedroom.

Steam fills the room. You touch sore places of your skin, feel the indents left by teeth and fingers. There’s an ache between your legs – battered pussy begging for sleep, you think.

When Yoongi returns, there is a soft exchange of touches. Yoongi presses soap into your skin, you scratching shampoo into his hair, a brush of swollen lips.

Somehow it feels more intimate than the sex.

After the shower, Yoongi wordlessly gives you clothes of his. You raise a brow but he waves it off, sitting on his bed and peeling back the covers. It’s a sure sign that he wants you to sleep there, and you’re so spent that you don’t think you could fight even if you wanted to.

The shirt and pants combo smell like him and you grin, sliding into the space he’s made on his bed for you. It occurs to you that he changed the sheets and grabbed a new blanket, the ruined ones balled up in a corner near the hamper.

For a moment, you feel hesitation. Yoongi’s bed for sleeping is foreign territory to you, and you’re unsure how he sleeps: does he cuddle, or does he not like to be touched, what side does he lay on what-

Yoongi reaches for you and pulls you toward him, stopping your stream of thoughts. He tucks you into his side as he lays on his back, one hand behind his head and the other wrapped around you tightly.

Sleeping curled into Yoongi’s side is the best sleep you get in months. But when you wake up the next morning, flinching at the bright screen of your phone to check what time it is, everything is long forgotten when you see a single text from your ex.

So what? You’re a pornstar now? Disgusting.

You lock the phone.

Sit in Yoongi’s room as he sleeps deeply behind you for a moment.

And then you get up and leave without a second thought.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #suga bts #haliiimedewrites #bts fanfic #minors dni #bts smut #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #mdni

[firelord-frowny]

!!!! 

idk why this is on my mind, but 

given that i am a Scaredy Cat, i don’t use public transportation very often, and the handful of times that i have, i’ve always been in the company of someone whose primary mode of getting around is the subway/bus.

so like. one day, i’m going with my frand to... somewhere in dc lol i don’t remember exactly what occasion it was. But anyway, this particular station was very low-traffic at the time, with only a few people around. No crowds, no lines or anything. 

We’re goin down the escalator, and we’re just standing, not in any hurry. And then I became vaguely aware of people coming down behind us. I’m not really paying attention to them and one of them sighed real loud and then just kinda squeezed their way past me, and i kinda saw them roll their eyes, and i’m like???????

and then my frand mentions to me that it’s like a ~unspoken rule of the subway~ to stand to the right on the escalators so people who wanna get down faster can do so with ease. 

Perfectly reasonable and sensible rule! One that I am glad to now know so that I can take care to be courteous to others on the rare occasion that I take the metro. 

but like WOW whyyyYYY are people so committed to being Rudely Righteous when they could instead just... Not Be Like That?

Like, if someone is in your way, and they don’t seem to be aware that they’re in your way... there is a HELLA EASY solution to that, and it’s called “saying ‘excuse me.’” Like, why would you just stand behind somebody and be Loudly Annoyed that they don’t realize you’re waiting for them to move, when you could just say excuse me??? 

#kinda hate how impatient people are In General #there was another time where we were taking the train to or from some sort of Event #the kind of event that attracts lots of people who are using the subway for the first time #so like #a lot of people were visibly confused lmao just wandering around #and my frand and i were in the line for the lil kiosk thingy where you can put money on your subway card #and the people right in front of us were CLEEEEAAARLY totally new to the subway system #and were having a lot of trouble figuring out how to use the machine #and they kept messing up #and allll these people behind us are huffing and saying and saying shit like #~come on now~ #~damn what's taking so long~ #~are you serious omg i have someplace to be~ #and I'm like!!!! #if you're so fucking bothered that the line is being held up by people who don't know how to use the machine #why don't you fuckin offer to help them?? #and then my frand finally stepped up and showed them how to do it #and that was that #and just #idk man i think it's so shitty and annoying #that people will so often criticize someone without making any attempt whatsoever #at helping the person

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma x Female Reader - Love-Hate Relationship

Thank you to my patron/client! Kokichi is always fun to write

Summary: Kokichi starts to fall for the only person in the killing game who likes him. His best friend is always on his side and has true feelings for him both platonically and romantically, but will he ruin everything with his harsh words and lies?

Friends to Enemies back to Friends to Lovers LMAO - ANGST and FLUFF

Warnings: Vulgar Language, otherwise SFW - Admin Myah

Word Count: 5.1K words 

When it all began, people didn’t like Kokichi. (Y/N) found this little fact out quite quickly. It was quite obvious. He was loud, and obnoxious, and stubborn, and whiny, and a great many other negative adjectives one would use to describe, say… an elementary school student.

 But! … he was also a great many other amazingly fantastical things, such as cunning, intelligent, hilarious, perceptive, adorable. These were the things (Y/N) saw in him, these and a lot more endearing qualities, these things the others seemingly refused to see in him. Even the more intelligent and reasonable of her peers, such as the intuitive detective Shuichi Saihara or the studied anthropologist Korekiyo Shinguuji could admit Kokichi was intelligent, but not much else. (Y/N) didn’t understand it. She truly didn’t think Kokichi was all that awful. Why weren’t they seeing what she saw? From the moment they all arose, groggy and confused in that eerie gymnasium together she knew he would be something special, someone to watch. She had a gift for reading people like that: their souls, their intentions, their true talents.

 The two of them, in time, had even started to become friends where he had none, and she essentially became his only link to the rest of the students. It would often go something like this: 

 Kokichi would reveal something critical, something hidden or potentially deadly that they all must know.

Kokichi, being the stubborn ass that he was, would lie about the details, or the information altogether, switching facts around and embellishing the story with fictional bits and bites.

The other Ultimates would ignore him, call him a liar, engage in some petty squabble.

(Y/N) would vouch for the little lord of lying, and the group would reluctantly scrounge up enough good faith to believe the pair.

 In times like those, (Y/N) would often chastise the tiny tyrant, forever asking him why he couldn’t just play nice and help the group out of the kindness of his heart?

 There was always some nonsensical, facetious, nonchalant response.

 And without fail, the more outspoken students would try to talk some sense into (Y/N), asking her why she put up with him, why she even tried to get to know him, why she liked him.

 But it was no use, she was drawn to him, and there was no stopping or changing it. (Y/N) was always one to latch onto the people who piqued her interest, who plucked her heartstrings, be it romantically or platonically. She found herself enraptured by his mind at first, then his looks, then the way he spoke, and more specifically... the way he spoke to her. 

 Yes, despite what the others thought, she found herself always defending him, and then, she found herself falling for him.

 And he would never in his life admit it, but he was starting to fall for her, too. 

 When the killing game first started, the others thought of him as a brat, just a nuisance. They ignored him and at worst, they told him off like the annoying kid on the playground. Back then, she would still hang out with him, ignoring his teasing jabs or even jabbing back. He found himself surprised with her comebacks and playful insults at times. 

 She was always around, and would never abandon him, a fact he most definitely took advantage of, for when the first killing happened, when Rantaro was taken from them and the killing game transformed from a hypothetical danger into a very, very real one, people started doubting and turning on each other. At that moment, he also was transformed in their mind. He was no longer a brat, he was becoming a villain and potential threat. People were choosing sides, forming cliques, trios, duos, going solo, and so on. 

 And she was always on his side.

 When it came time for their terrified little class of ultimates to enter the trial grounds for the very first time, her podium was directly across from his, as if by fate. Kokichi didn’t believe too much in fate… but he didn’t mind getting a perfect view of her all trial long. He found out quickly that he may come to regret the placement, however, as it also gave her a perfect view of him, and she was no fool like the rest of them. She would watch his expressions, catch the smallest twitch of his lip or raise of his brow. Much like Shuichi, she was one of the only ones who could study his words and actions and weed out the lies… at least most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on it, and she knew the tone of his voice better than anyone else there. She was making it terribly difficult for him to confuse others, extend the trial, stir up some fun… and he liked that about her. Someone who could keep up with him was certainly not boring… and extremely attractive.

 Even with so many people against him, dismissing both his lies and truths, verbally attacking him, she would hear him out, and by the end of it all, the innocent got out alive. The thrilling and bone-chilling trial ended with a correct verdict. Without their teamwork, even with Shuichi’s genius, it may not have been so.

 With the first trial’s conclusion, Kokichi’d made up his mind to stop simply admiring her and actually get to enjoy that not-boring personality to the fullest. That’s the most he’d give her: that she wasn’t boring, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her hand, he whisked her away to uncover the newest research labs that Monokuma’d allowed them access to. They inspected them all top to bottom, together as a team. They eventually would do this to every unlocked location in the academy, making short work of the campus while harassing each other, badgering and bantering, hurling insults the entire time. She was the only one he couldn’t exhaust. Just when he began to think it might be a tad bit more romantic to pull some punches for her sake, he discovered he didn’t have to. She’d punch back, and just as hard.

 In fact, he liked her so much, that when his poor classmates were subjected to the horrendous Insect Meet-and-Greet event, she was personally invited by Ouma himself, and not hauled over Gonta’s gentlemanly shoulders and carried, or worse, knocked the fuck out only to wake up surrounded by bugs.

 “How charming,” she teased, rolling her eyes as he stood in the frame of her dorm room’s door.

 “Yeah, you should feel pretty special! I wasted precious energy coming down here to ask you to come!” He exhaled loudly, far too proud of himself.

 “Well, as much as I’d love to be covered in roaches and piss myself when beetles attempt to crawl into every orifice on my body, I can’t. Again, love to, truly, but-”

 “Awwww! But we hang out every night! And you’re lying! You’re never busy you dirty, rotten, lying loser! Who else hangs out with you beside me?! What else do you have to do if it doesn’t involve me? Your life’s a yawn unless I plan your daily itinerary!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a small stomp of one foot. “Gosh, I hate liars!” He pouted.

 “Pout all you want, I’m not going to your bug fest. I hate bugs.”

 “Wait ‘til Gonta hears about your very controversial opinion!” Kokichi gasped, feigning absolute shock.

 “You wouldn’t...” her eyes widened, knowing instantly that she’d fucked up. He didn’t reply, but simply smirked, an evil, plotting, crooked grin creeping across his visage. She sighed deeply, head hanging in defeat.

 “Be my date?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers temptingly. Her head shot up, an uncomfortable, flustered warmth running through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. He caught this immediately, as he caught most changes in the air, and his face twisted into an equally awkward expression for a split second before his brow furrowed and he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, shithead! You know what I meant! Let’s go or I’m having Tarzan put your ass to sleep!” He spat, and she simply giggled, grabbing his hand before being pulled off.

 “Your date huh? I can’t think of anything I’d love more than some worms in my shoes.”

 ♡

 That morning when they awoke, Ryoma was gone, stolen away in what they assumed was either the night or the early morning. Kokichi was usually very much unfazed, desensitized to most shock and awe in life, but this time… it was different. He was upset, and visibly so, stomping around the crime scene like a child, brooding.

 It wasn’t the loss of a Ryoma, nor the gore and tragedy of the scene that had him so agitated, it was her reaction to it. (Y/N) wore her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of others, so it was no surprise that she was in tears now. She’d cried over both Rantaro and Kaede’s deaths, but that was different. Kaede was a girl, and he didn’t care about (Y/N) enough back when Rantaro was killed to be jealous of her tears, but now… he was practically green.

 (Y/N) had actually been pretty close with Ryoma. Like she did with most people, she dug past Ryoma’s appearance and the story he wanted everyone to know, and what she found was a pretty amazing guy. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Kokichi, but still…

 These weren’t tears of horror from seeing a dead body, or of witnessing a young person’s life cut short. They were tears of mourning the loss of a close friend, and Kokichi was positively boiling.

 By the time he’d managed to cool himself down while effectively hiding his meltdown from the rest of them, (Y/N) had wandered off to start the investigation and avenge her friend with Shuichi. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen. She was quickly swept away to start their own little search party. The two of them, the way it was supposed to be. Of course, he would never say all of these embarrassing thoughts aloud. He’d make up some stupid excuse for why she just had to come with him. But it wasn't personal, and he didn’t care about her.

 He didn’t

 He. Didn’t.

 Did he...?

 ♡

 When it came time for the second trial, Kokichi made sure to make fun of (Y/N), calling her a crybaby, mocking her “endless blubbering” and all the valuable time she wasted doing it. He tried desperately, now at war with his own heart and values, to convince himself she was nothing to him, that she was just another pea-brained opponent in this death game, that she was a source of entertainment at best, and nothing else.

 “Shut the fuck up, Miu, nobody wants to hear that gross shit! Cream your pants later!” (Y/N) spoke across the circle to the blonde exhibitionist with a scowl on her face. Miu, in response, shriveled and whined. Kokichi couldn’t help but crack a smile. That was one of the things he loved about (Y/N), how she put people in their place.

 What?! Shit, no! Not loved… I mean she was cool, but... not - his mind raced, trying to shake himself back to the place he wanted to be. Shit!

 The trial went on, and with every word she worsened the self-made conflict within him.

 “How could you say that Kaito?!” (Y/N) howled at the Ultimate Astronaut, who was taken aback by her anger. Kokichi, too, found himself taken aback. Kaito was the “good guy”, the macho action hero, the protagonist’s best friend. While many called Kaito names, dismissed his ridiculous ideas, and even told him he was plain stupid and wrong at times, no one ever truly challenged the trusted hero duo that was Shuichi and Kaito, and certainly not with such unbridled anger. “You must have no idea what it’s like to go through depression, to not see the point in living anymore! How dare you speak ill of Ryoma?! How dare you say he used to be your hero?!” She knew what it was like, those dark thoughts Ryoma must’ve been having for years.

 Kokichi watched her, like a spitfire, a firecracker. He forgot all about his decision to let her go, to stop interacting with her altogether after today, and couldn’t help being pulled in. They spent the rest of the trial working as they usually did: together, as a team. He spoke up more, and they teased each other, flirting harmlessly and carrying on.

 And the others were starting to notice…

 “Man, can’t you two save it for when you’re alone?! Damn! I can practically see you undressing each other with your eyes, bleh!” Miu gagged before letting out one of her infamous cackles. (Y/N)’s face ran hot, instinctively leaning back on her podium. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth, at a loss for words as she met Kokichi’s gaze.

 “Yeah right, as if! I’d love to be discussing with literally anyone else here but you guys all have the personality of dirty pond water…” Kokichi sighed defensively, looking at his nails as if Miu’s words meant nothing to him. 

 (Y/N) knew how he was, she knew harsh words and lies were his coping mechanism, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders sunk.

 ♡

 Despite her hurting heart, when Kokichi - the shit-stirrer that he was - revealed Maki’s truth to the group after Kirumi’s execution, (Y/N) was the only one to throw herself between them, prying Maki’s hands from her best friend’s throat.

 “Fuck, now she’s out here tryna die for this asshole!” Miu crowed. “HA HA! They’re definitely fuckin’!” She held her stomach, practically in tears from her laughing fit.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” (Y/N) pushed past the crowd, tired of them, tired of the humiliation, tired of Kokichi, tired of all of it. She left the trial room, running all the way and not stopping until she was locked up in her room.

 After the public embarrassment and Kokichi’s heartless dismissal of their… complicated relationship, maybe….

Maybe now it was her turn to cut him off.

 ♡

Days passed and she refused to see him. She stayed locked up in her room at night and avoided him during the day, well... avoided him as best she could. Kokichi wasn’t one to be ignored if he didn’t want to be. He persisted, harassing and tracking her around, begging her to talk to him, to play, to prank others with him, to investigate the new research labs, but she simply pretended he wasn’t there. It hurt, it really hurt to shut him out, but to go on with him acting like she didn’t matter in public and then deciding she did in private hurt even worse. Her loyalty could only go so far. She wouldn’t allow him to mess with her heart any longer… or so she thought.

 ♡

Hours before the third trial was to commence, (Y/N) found herself outside of Korekiyo’s research lab when what looked like a walking corpse stumbled by. She cried out, running over to a dazed Kokichi, bumbling about light-headed and pale, with fresh blood running freely down his head.

 “Kokichi!” Her feelings be damned! She couldn’t just sit there and watch him suffer or worse. Who knew how much blood he’d already lost? Crazed with worry, she threw his arm over her shoulder, looking around frantically wondering why no one else had noticed him yet.

 The answer was simple: no one else cared. They probably had noticed and simply written him off. (Y/N) pouted, contemplating leaving him there… she was supposed to be mad at him.

 “Ohhhhh… gah! ...Damn you, Kokichi!” How did he keep doing this? How was he worming his evil little ass into her heart again and again?! She began dragging him down the stairs and toward the dorms. The investigation would have to wait.

“(Y-Y/N)...?” Kokichi mumbled in his ditzy state. “Hoo hoo! I thought we weren’t talkin’?!” He nearly tumbled from her arms, weak and wobbly.

 “Oh, shut up, asshole!” (Y/N) growled, nearing the dormitory area and pulling him into her room.

 ♡

 “Man, that sucked!” Kokichi sat leaned against the glass of the sliding shower door in the small personal offshoot bathroom attached to her small dorm room. A cold washcloth sat covering his forehead, wetting the messy strands of his long bangs.

 “Tell me again why you didn’t just call for help once you realized how badly you were bleeding?” (Y/N) made small talk, wringing out the soiled rag she’d initially used to clean him off. He took a swig of some icy bottled water she’d provided and glowered, his bottom lip out in contemplation.

 “ ‘Cause I didn’t think anyone would come…” he spoke flatly, exhausted with the loss of blood and shittiness of it all. She froze, turning to him.

 “I’m sorry…” she sighed, replacing the washcloth on his head with some gauze that she started to gently wrap around the rather deep wound.

 “You should be! Hmpf!” He crossed his arms and she pulled on the gauze sharply, tightly constricting the oozing sore. “Shit!”

 “Don’t start, dickhead. You’re lucky I’m choosing to forgive you!” She chided. He shot her a dirty look, and for moments they sat in silence.

 “... For a moment I thought you hated me… like the rest of them,” he finally spoke up, any amount of silence torturous to his child-like psyche. She felt her heart sink.

 “... I could never.” She smiled softly, fighting off a nagging frown that threatened to present itself. Before he could make this even more awkward, she stood, taking control of the situation. “Okay, I’ll be right back, you stay right here. I don’t want you passing out again.” She took off, closing the bathroom door and sneaking away into the main room.

 Shuffling through her closet and by extension her Monokuma-provided wardrobe, she peeled off first her shirt then her uniform’s skirt, both now completely ruined by dark patches of Kokichi’s blood, her reward for carrying his sorry ass all the way here. Now in only her underwear, she reached for a replacement uniform and wandered over to her bedside table for her deodorant and some facial wipes. As she wiped the grime and sweat from the crevices of her oily face, the bathroom door slid open with an impatient force behind it.

 “I’m boooooooored-”

 “Ahh!” She screeched, rushing to cover herself up before she could even process what was happening, but the only things nearby were her comforter and intricate uniform.

 “Oh, God! Why are you naked?!” Kokichi hollered, his face turning beet red. (Y/N) pulled the comforter up and around her body, her uniform falling from the bed.

 “I told you to wait there!” Her cheeks felt engulfed in flames, the skin all over her body hot and her feathers effectively ruffled.

 “You didn’t say why! You didn’t say you were doing a strip show in here!” He retorted, covering his eyes with one arm, more for her to save face than out of his own desire.

 “Get out! Just get out!” She screamed, tears pricking her eyes.

 “But-!”

 “Now!!” Full of a genre of rage he almost never felt, he conceded, stomping out of her room without another word.

 (Y/N) fell to her bed, screaming into her pillow like nobody’s business. She felt ashamed, mortified, infuriated. Why, for once, couldn’t he just listen?! Her body was never something she was confident in or proud of, and now, to have him, the guy she had feelings for see her like that, and not only practically naked, but caught off guard… it was as more than she could handle.

 ♡

 The trial room was relatively quiet that afternoon. The usual suspects were chatting, defending themselves, accusing others. Shuichi was having a pretty smooth trial - a blessing in his eyes - with Kokichi not giving him an easier time than usual. When he did speak, it was his usual lies, with an underlying irritated tone, but he never spoke a word to (Y/N), and (Y/N) hardly spoke at all. After some time, someone addressed the elephant in the room… err, other than the murders, that is…

 “Soooo, uh…” Kaito, courageous as always, spoke out, “(Y/N), you awake over there? We could use some help to, you know, find the culprit so we don’t all bite it?” He was only somewhat gentle with his words, having already made up with her after the last trial’s argument, but anxious over the current situation. “Shuichi and I can’t handle this on our own! You usually have a lot to say!”

 “I resent that comment, Kaito, as I believe I help plenty, but yes,” Kiibo rolled his metallic eyes to the sky, ever focused on the current goal, “you do usually have more to say, (Y/N). We could really use another opinion here.”

 “Something wrong with (Y/N)?” Gonta, always concerned for his friends’ feelings inquired, brows furrowed in concern.

 “Hah!” Miu spat. “Of course something’s wrong! Haven't you noticed that little prick over there ain’t feedin’ us his bullshit nearly as much as neither?!” She pointed at Kokichi before placing a haughty hand on her hip. “He probably slipped her his little prick, and it was so tiny she was turned off for good! Probably can’t even speak, she’s so disappointed! Hella awkward!” She roared. Everyone exchanged the familiar looks of disgust or scorn that came after one of Miu’s outbursts, and as (Y/N) opened her mouth to defend them both, she was cut off.

 “More like the other way around!” Kokichi hurled Miu’s statements right back in her face, his knuckles crunching down on his podium with a vice-like grip. “After I saw her naked earlier, I was the one leaving with a softie!” He growled, his frustrations, self-loathing, and need to be in control and defend himself all culminating in these toxically destructive words.

 A few audible gasps were heard in the room, a few laughs from Monokuma and his remaining offspring, and the more mature students such as Maki and Shuichi simply sighing in exhaustion, wondering why they kept getting off track with useless information. (Y/N) felt her knees almost buckle.

 No. Not this time! She heard her mind shout at her heart, and she slammed her hands down on her podium, all embarrassment melting into pure rage.

“YOU- GOD!” An encore slam down onto the flat metal, “You FUCKING asshole! That’s not what happened you goddamn fucking LIAR, and you know it!” Her voice was hoarse with the force of it.

 “Uh oh! Struck a ner-” Miu began to speak.

 “You shut the fuck up!” (Y/N) pointed to the busty instigator before directing her venomous ire back at Kokichi, who refused to look her in the eyes. “I did everything to help you after your dumb ass fell through the fucking floor, and this is how I’m repaid?! I do everything with you and for you, and this is how you treat me?! Why do you always sit here and lie to these people about us?! Fucking shithead fucking-” she was struggling for words, holding back tears. “You tell them the truth, that I had your blood all over me from patching you up because no one else likes your sorry ass! Everyone else would’ve left you passed out on the floor or worse dead from blood loss or killed by the culprit who seems to be on a fucking spree!” She gestured wildly, talking with her hands. “You walked in on me changing my bloody clothes! It was your fault! Just like it’s your fault that you have one fr-” her voice broke, and she looked to her feet. “No friends. Fuck you… Shuichi just finish the fucking trial we all know who the culprit is.” She looked down the rest of the trial, saying nothing, hearing nothing, just a ringing in her ears.

 “This is reeeeeeal fuckin’ awkward and I hate it here,” Miu cooed, rubbing her hands together.

 ♡

 As soon as the trial was over, Kokichi, feeling the weight of his best friend’s words, searched high and low for her. The campus was huge with many places to hide, but he knew her well, and he knew her favorite spots. He checked the AV room, library, casino, her research lab, and her room first, then everywhere else, asking anyone he came across about her whereabouts.

“Dude you messed up, even by your standards,” Kaito demeaned with a righteous fist in the air.

“I think it’s completely reasonable that she would not want to speak with you,” Kiibo sighed.

“Kokichi, you probably really hurt her. Just let her be, that’s the right thing to do,” Shuichi offered guidance even to the worst of his peers any time he could.

“Why are you speaking to me?” Maki walked away.

♡

At long last, finding himself in the basement after wallowing around the school for a while, he opened the door to the AV room for some space and privacy, seeing as it was rarely used since Rantaro’s death. He gasped.

 “(Y/N)!” She turned from her position reading on the little couch, startled, and immediately turned back upon seeing the owner of the voice. He closed the door behind him, shuffling over with his tail between his legs. Quickly, before she could notice, he forced a rather convincing peppy voice. “The heck?! I already checked here!” She knew that. She’d been there earlier, and left when she heard he was making the rounds only to return later, but she didn’t say as much now. “Soooo? Whatcha readin’?” He grinned, plopping down on the floor beside her seated position on the couch. She didn’t respond, didn’t change her expression, and merely kept reading. “C’mon!!! Reading’s boring!!! Well,” he tapped his finger on his lip pensively “not always! But your taste in books is! Let’s at least go find some good shit to read together!” She had not the mental or physical energy, the want nor the need to banter with him. As far as she was concerned, this… whatever it was, was over. 

 Kokichi sighed, taking the hint to stop talking but not the hint to leave her the fuck alone. She would not physically kick him out, he knew this, and it seemed she wouldn’t do it verbally either. It was safer not to be alone, she rationalized in her mind… well, only if the group knew who was paired up and when, but he would never hurt her… physically. And she would never hurt him. And so, Kokichi resolved to sit there, just sit there and stare: at the ceiling, at her, at his thumbs. After the first thirty minutes he began to make pretend snow angels on the ground with his arms and legs flopping together and apart. He lapped around the room a few times, looked through the DVD options, sat with her on the couch, moved closer, then further, then closer, back and forth trying to get some reaction. Usually he could at least annoy someone into paying attention to him. Even negative attention was still attention. She was never like this with him. This was bad… he could feel his selfish little heart ache.

 An hour passed, and then another. She’d picked up a sketch pad she’d stored in the couch cushions, doodled, changed books, and now was reading again. He’d begun running his fingers up and down her thigh, making explosion and car noises when he hit her knee. And finally, he spoke.

 “You know, you’re super brave to be down here alone, you know... before I got here I mean… or at all really. Place is spooky… haunted since Rantaro got murked. No one comes down here but you. Surprised you’re down here… but I guess you always are.” He could feel the stone wall she’d put up between them. “You know, it kinda sucks, that we lost Rantaro…”

 “...and Ryoma, and Tenko, and Kirumi, Angie, Kiyo, Kaede…” she spoke up, irritated by his flippance. “Don’t forget them like they don’t matter.” He twiddled his thumbs in response.

 “At least you didn’t die…” he tapped on the back of the book you were reading, making the pages shake before her eyes.

 “Like you’d care if I did,” she replied without hesitation.

 “I woooooould,” he pulled at her sleeve like a toddler aching to be picked up.

 “I’m ugly. I’m fat and hideous and a turn off and just disgusting, right? So who cares if I die?” She spoke like she was reciting a grocery list: monotone, uninterested.

 “Well… I can still care about ugly people…” he batted his eyelashes innocently. The look she shot him told him she was not in the mode for jokes. “B-but, you’re not ugly! You’re way hotter than Maki or Miu or any other hag here! I just said all that stuff to catch Miu off guard! It was all a lie!” He was getting nervous now, sitting upright beside her on the couch.

 “That is not an apology,” she rebuked.

 “Aww come on, forgive me!” He collapsed, resting face down on her stomach and stretching his body out on the cushions behind him. “You’re my best friend…” His words were muffled, but she could make them out still. “You’re more than that…” her ears perked up, and she began to hear sniveling. Slowly, a wetness began to seep through her shirt onto her abdomen.

 Was he…?

 She placed a single hand on the back of his black locks and ran her fingers through the messy mop. The other placed the book on the floor then joined the other. For a few peaceful moments they sat silently while she stroked his scalp and played with the waves.

 “I’m sorry…” an apology came through his sniffles, but he would not lift his head up, never in a million years would someone see him cry genuine tears.

 “I can’t hear you,” she lied, something she learned from him. A devious smirk he could not see crossed her lips.

 “Yes you can!” Muffled frustration vibrated her tummy.

 “Well since I can’t hear you anyway this conversation is ov-”

 His head shot upward, a snarl crossing his red, moist, puffy face. He pulled his knees up, leaning forward with all his weight

And pressed his lips deeply into hers.

#kokichi ouma #kokichi x reader #reader insert #Female reader #y/n #x reader #daganronpa #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 killing harmony #sdr2 goodbye despair #friends to lovers #angst #fanfiction #imagines #reactions #oneshot #commission #Trigger happy havoc #Super Danganronpa 2 #fluff #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #miu iruma #shuichi saihara #writing commission #kaito momota #s/o #danganronpa fanfiction #head canons #slow burn

[commonwealthoccurences]

Roll Your Eyes (One More Time)(Part Two)

Note: I know this probably seems like it doesn’t follow the prompt, but I swear I just take inspiration weirdly lmao. Word Count: 2,373 Prompt: The Wanderer

Day: 12/27 Sole wasn’t fond of recovery units and the stench of antiseptics, the way the ward was so busy yet so quiet at the same time. They could pick out the stench of burn cream from a mile away, the result of more grenades being thrown after they managed to get Danse and his tin can dragged to another room. They’d lost more than a handful of good soldiers that day, soldiers Sole knew all too well, and they weren’t sure they could do it anymore.

Maybe it was the fact that they had almost lost the steadiest thing in their life; a long time rivalry with one of the most prominent Brotherhood soldiers. Maybe it was the fact that they weren’t born into the time, where losing the people you cared about was more than normal, more than common. It was eating at Sole, though. If they had been another minute later, if the grenade had made it any closer... They chewed at the skin around their nails, looking over at Danse, where he laid unconscious on the hospital cot.

He wasn’t knocked out for too long after they got him back to the Prydwen, a combination of the pain from the doctors treating his wounds and the fact that one of the people carrying him had knocked him straight into a doorway due to the Prydwen shifting. He needed as much rest as he could get, though. The injuries weren’t terminal but he wasn’t in the greatest shape and straining himself anytime soon would put him out of work. Permanently. Sole knew that was the biggest way to scare Danse into listening.

They only visited when he was asleep, creeping in, light on their feet to avoid disturbing him. It was hard to ignore the way the doctors shot them looks when they poked their head in after being told Danse had finally gotten back to sleep. Judgement or fondness, they couldn’t decide, but it wasn’t something they enjoyed.

Once again, they had snuck in after a passing soldier had nudged them and told them that Danse was asleep. They brought a book this time, grateful they were on a short break, and curled up in the chair across from his bed, glancing up from the words every now and then to make sure he was still breathing. Why? They weren’t sure. They didn’t know why they visited so often, couldn’t put the words together to brush off the teasing directed their way about their disgust for Danse turning into something else and “Everyone saw it coming” comments.

Sole refused to spend any time dwelling on those thoughts, or acknowledge the fact that the disgust had indeed left their chest whenever they saw Danse, and instead was replaced by a bubble of concern for his well being. What that meant, they didn’t know. They didn’t want to find out, either.

It was exhausting to be so concerned all the time and they weren’t sure they’d last much longer. Initially, they planned on putting off their resignation from their position until Danse was awake and ready to talk. More coherent. As much as they didn’t get along, he was the one who recruited them, sponsored them, and if anyone was owed an explanation other than Elder Maxson, it was him. But they were so, so tired of wondering if another one of the soldiers in the intensive ward was going to pass in the night, and the first thing they would hear in the morning would be that another friend had left them.

So they packed up their bags one night, making sure to leave behind anything Brotherhood issue, and set them to the side, out of sight so no one would make a comment. It was hard to hide the way they would suspiciously shuffle whenever someone would mention upcoming missions, but luckily, no one saw through the way they would simply nod in agreement and look away.

After a Paladin from that day passed, just barely having turned seventeen, Sole knew they weren’t going to last any longer. They had to get out before the feeling of fear and loss suffocated them and they were trapped on the Prydwen for the rest of their days, claustrophobic and terrified. The last night they spent in Haylen’s quarters, sharing a cup of coffee and discussing pre-War literature, giving away nothing that they were about to run from everything they’d worked so hard to achieve. No, not run. They weren’t a coward. They simply weren’t made to watch people die over and over again.

Haylen bid them a good night and didn’t comment on the fact that instead of heading down the stairs to their own quarters, they were headed up. To Maxson’s. With a breath they paused in front of his door, head bowed, eyes squeezed shut. Maybe they didn’t have to do this, maybe they would regret it. But when they closed their eyes all they saw on replay was Danse being thrown through the wall, his body slamming against the ground, and the way they struggled to get him to keep his eyes open.

After that it wasn’t exactly hard to build up the courage to knock sharply against Elder Maxson’s door. He opened it and raised an eyebrow, silently inquiring as to why they were bothering him so late at night. “Can I come in? We need to talk.” Sole asked, their hands clasped in front of them, shoulders tense.

Maxson scanned them carefully, eyeing them for any weapons or ill intentions. Then, he stepped aside and gestured into the room swiftly, not wanting to waste his time. Sole stepped in and listened to the door click shut resolutely behind them.

The following morning they left, bags packed and strapped to their shoulders, their dog tags tucked into their shirt; Maxson had finally found his kind streak and allowed them to keep them, on the condition that he would allow them to be taken forcefully if they were using them to impersonate the Brotherhood. They ignored the confused looks passing members shot them as they made their way past a patrol that was heading out, instead hiking the strap of their bag higher on their shoulder and walking faster. If they could make it out before news made it back to Danse, they were golden. They really didn’t feel like him yelling at them over intercom since he couldn’t get out of bed.

Leaving was easier than they thought it would be, though a sting of regret struck once they were off Brotherhood territory. They’d forgotten to leave a letter to Danse in explanation, they were so busy trying to explain themself to Elder Maxson the previous night. They shot a quick prayer to every God they could think of to not run into Danse in the future. The way he would chew them out incessantly would be more than painful if they did see him again.

Once they’d made it back to Sanctuary and settled in, unpacking their bags as they thought about everything they’d gone through in the Brotherhood up until that point, they broke out their gloves and headed out to the fields. There was something beautiful about the sweat and blood that went into farming. No one died from watering the corn and turning the soil, and for that, Sole was more than grateful.

Precisely one week went by before they were alerted by Preston to a small group arriving at the front gates of Sanctuary. Something in Sole just knew. It was Danse, and they were about to experience the lecture of a lifetime, and they didn’t have the energy to throw back their usual rebuttals. How would he even understand? He’d grown up in that mess, grown up losing people left and right like it was nothing. And sure, it broke him, but to him that was normal. Sole let out a deep breath and rolled their eyes before tugging their gloves off and stepping out of the gate to meet them.

Sure enough, Danse was being flanked by four Brotherhood soldiers, who started to smile and wave when they saw them, but were quickly shot down with a single glare from Danse. Danse folded his arms over his chest, the metal clanging as irritatingly as ever, and directed his nasty expression straight at them. They almost flinched. Almost. “We need to talk.” His voice was raspier than it had been before. Then again, getting blown up would do a lot of things to you.

They clenched their jaw and scanned him for a moment, trying to judge what damage was left from what he had gone through. There was nothing too visible, but he was definitely putting more weight on his left leg. Sole ran their tongue across their teeth, wondering if something had done permanent damage. “Alright.” They agreed, surprising him. “You boys can head into the bar. Tell Amber it’s on me.” They directed a warm smile to the soldiers behind him. They were no stranger to the fact that they could probably use some sort of break.

Danse shook his head at this, but said nothing and watched them leave. Sole turned and headed back to their home, not bothering to look back to wave Danse on to follow them. His footsteps echoed ominously behind them, a sound they fought themself not to msis, but other than the impending temper tantrum he was sure to have about honor, it was reassuring to know someone reliable had their back at the moment. They’d all too often felt exposed, walking through the Wasteland without the sound of a metal soldier behind them.

Sole, unenthusiastic as ever, pushed open their door and gestured inside, and watched in annoyance as Danse released himself from the metal contraption he walked around in. Yeah, he was definitely favoring his leg. They sucked air between their teeth. There was no way he was coping well with that; he struggled with feeling like he was doing well enough even before he got injured, and they were sure he was on strict orders not to overdo it, even though that was all he knew.

“What are we talking about?” Sole shut the door behind him, maybe a little too harshly, and moved to lean against the wall.

Danse turned on them with a glare straight out of an old school comic book. They sighed. There was no beating around the bush with him. “You abandoned post.” He fixed his eyes on them and casually leaned his hip against the back of the couch. Yeah, something had definitely happened to his leg.

“I was discharged by Elder Maxson.” They shot back, glancing down at his leg.

“And why wasn’t I informed of this before you left?” His tone had gotten significantly colder.

Sole sighed. “I left in a hurry. I meant to leave a note or something. Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d notice.” 

“Bullshit. You’ve been visiting every day since… I’m not stupid, Soldie- Sole. I just got injured in combat, protecting you.”

They froze, mid shake of their head. “You were asleep.”

Danse was the one to roll his eyes that time. “You mumble when you read. It woke me up every time. Plus, you’re not exactly the stealthiest.”

Sole scoffed. “I saved your ass once because I’m stealthy, so now I know you’re lying.”

“You read the book you always keep in your foot locker until three days in, when the scribes scavenged a copy of Alice In Wonderland.”

They had no retort to that. Shit. He really was awake when they went in there. They tried so hard to brush it off, and simply shrugged. “Is there a point to this.”

“You came into the ward every day after I got injured and read, on breaks and during your free time, when you thought I was asleep. And then you up and vanish without a word?” He was spitting out the words like they disgusted him.

“What’s. Your. Point.”

“I’m so sick of the mixed signals you give out!” Danse threw his arms up and turned away from them.

Sole was definitely used to the Paladin’s anger, even revelled in it at one point, but this was new. Usually his anger was cool and calm, stern and biting, but never did it have any outward energy. It was like a switch had flipped. They shifted in discomfort; they didn’t know how to react to this version of Danse. “What happened to your leg?”

“I got thrown through a wall. And you’d know exactly what happened if you stuck around and asked instead of sneaking around and then jumping ship because you’re too scared.”

That was not going to fly. They weren’t a coward, and he knew that was the one way to get them riled up every time, like clockwork. Sole strode forward easily, eyes narrowed in fury. “Scared of what, huh? What the hell was I scared of, Danse?”

He turned and looked at them before shifting forward. It wasn’t far, but then, with the way they were trying to get in his face out of anger, he didn’t need to move very much. He grabbed their jaw between his hands and kissed them. Out of frustration or pure expression of what he was trying to spit out from the moment he’d saved their life, he didn’t know. Both, probably.

Sole definitely wasn’t expecting that, but after a moment, they relaxed and rested their hands on his shoulders, kissing back, as they weren’t one to let someone catch them off guard for long. When Danse pulled away and stared at them intently, they raised an eyebrow. “You’re frustrating, you know that? I’ve been trying to get on your good side from the beginning, wondering why I saw any hope in you, and all you do is get under my skin and piss me off.” His voice wasn’t harsh, more breathy than anything.

They laughed and rolled their eyes. “So I’ve been told.”

Danse shook his head. “God, you piss me off when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Roll your eyes.”

“If you insist.”

Before they could think to make another gesture, Danse kissed them hard.

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fo4f #Fallout 4 February #Oneshot #Imagine #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fluff #Angst #Enemies to Lovers #Danse #Paladin Danse

[supremesukuna]

Part 2 of Jedi!Reader please? Maybe Jealous!Mando and uhh.. Smut (maybe) lmao I'm sorry

"So I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for the past couple of days. Could you write something where the reader just randomly gets kissed by someone and mando gets super jealous because he wants to be able to kiss them? I love your writing so much! It always makes my day when you post something 🥰"

Hope you dont mind that I put these two together! This was getting a bit long so the smut will have to wait until part 3 😅

part one

***

"I'll go and get the supplies. You wait here. I'm not sure how long this will take, so don't wander off." Din informed you.

You nodded. "I'll keep myself busy here." You smiled as you looked across the square of the little town you had stopped in. There was a small market which you could occupy yourself with.

You had taken your time looking across the various fruits, trinkets and foods for sale, many of which you had not seen before. You didn't have any credits on you to purchase anything, which had you kicking yourself, as you had already seen about 8 items you wanted to buy.

You were snapped out of your daze when you heard a familiar voice call your name. You turned to see who the voice belonged to.

"Tarver?" You questioned, a smile overtaking your face. "Is that really you?"

You rushed towards him and pulled him into a hug. He was an old friend of yours, you had both trained together and fought against the Galactic Empire together. You hadn't seen him since the fall of the Empire, when all the Jedi scattered.

"What brings you here?" He asked, his smile equally as bright.

"Just stocking up on supplies. You?"

"I live here. Moved here after our final battle."

"Have you seen anyone else? I haven't seen any of our Jedi friends for years!"

"A few, a lot of people pass through here."

"Prime spot for travellers I'm guessing?"

"Correct."

You continued catching up, talking about your old memories, your current lives, your future plans. It was comforting to have a reminder of where you had come from, it reminded you of how far you'd come, and how much your life had improved since choosing to travel with Din.

"I best let you go about your day."

You nodded in agreement. "If we don't go now, we'll be here all day." You joked. "See you soon, yeah? I'm sure I'll come this way again."

"See you too!" He leaned forward, which caused you to instinctively pull away. "Come on, you know I can't not kiss you."

You laughed, "you make it sound so romantic." You knew it was far from that.

Tarver came from a community who kissed friends and acquaintances goodbye, it was seen as offensive to avoid it. You had made many jokes about it in the past.

"Ugh fine. Make it quick. I don't want your germs." You joked, easily falling back into your old routines.

"Always so polite."

He leant towards you, pressing a quick kiss on your lips. You let him, but didn't pass up the opportunity to fake gag.

"That felt like kissing a sibling." You overreacted.

"Blame my ancestors for putting it into our etiquette."

"Curse you!" You waved your fist at the sky, causing the two of you to double over in laughter.

A sudden tight grip on your arm snapped you out of it. You looked up, seeing Din.

"Oh hi." You didn't bother to hide your surprise. That was much quicker than you expected.

"We need to go."

He didn't give you a chance to respond, moving his grip to your wrist and pulling you along, forcing you to fall in step behind him.

You yelled a quick bye over your shoulder, before concentrating on keeping up with Din's quick steps. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Something had really worried or annoyed him, hence your quick getaway, so you kept an eye out for any suspicious activity. Perhaps you had been followed to the little town, or Din had bumped into trouble.

But you only grew more confused when there was no sign of any commotion or any sight of people spying or trying to follow you. You couldn't sense anyone nearby either. It was when you had exited the town and started down the route back to the Razor Crest that you voiced your confusion.

"Din, can you please tell me what's going on? Are we in danger?"

"No." He responded, his tone clipped. Din's footsteps did not get any slower, nor his grip any looser.

"Then why are you so quick to leave?" You tried to pull your wrist away, but he didn't let up.

"Let's just go."

You dug your heels into the ground, forcing him to stop. Din swung round to face you, his posture showing annoyance.

"I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me what happened." He had a habit of hiding things from you, thinking it protected you, but it only made you ill prepared for when you inevitably ran into trouble. You had repeatedly asked him to start being more open, but knew it was difficult for someone so used to travelling alone.

He sighed loudly, tugging your arm, but you wrenched it away from his grip, crossing your arms.

"Stop being awkward. Let's go." Din stepped forward to reach for you again, but you took a step back.

"No, not unless you start being honest with me. What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Then why are you acting so odd? Something must have happened for you to be so rattled."

"I'm not... rattled." He didn't sound convincing at all.

"Well you're something."

"You wandered off. I told you not to do that."

Now he was making excuses. "You told me to make myself busy while you got our supplies. I stayed near to where you were, so don't blame this on me."

He didn't say anything, and an awkward silence fell over the two of you. You scraped your boots against the ground, waiting for him to explain, but he stayed silent.

"Please just be honest with me." You half begged.

"Who were you speaking to?"

You were taken aback by his question, and his unnecessarily rough tone. "Someone I know."

"Someone you know?" He repeated.

"Yes." You spoke slowly, unsure what he was getting at.

"You know them well?"

"Define well?" You had no idea what an earth he was on about.

"Well enough to-" he stopped himself, but you knew now what he was getting at.

"To what?" You were visibly annoyed now, realising what he was probably getting at. But he didn't need to act like such a child.

"You know what."

"So you're spying on me now."

"If you won't be honest then I'll have to."

"How have I not been honest?!" Your voice raised in annoyance.

"Keep your voice down. And how can I keep you safe if you run off with other men?" He regretted what he said once it was out of his mouth, not realising how bad it sounded until it was too late.

"Seriously? Din, what the hell?" You sounded genuinely hurt, at it made his chest ache.

"I didn't mean that to sound so... accusing."

"Well it did." You tried not to sound so offended, but failed.

You continued, explaining yourself to stop him thinking the worst. "He's a friend, I trained with him. We were Padawans together. And if you'd just asked me instead of assuming everything, you would know that."

"...And the kiss?" His own insecurity caused him to ask. It's not like he was able to do that with you whenever he pleased. You'd never openly discussed what your relationship was prior to this moment, but you both knew there was an unspoken thing between the two of you.

"Din, it was nothing. It's a weird etiquette thing from his home planet."

"To kiss people on the mouth?"

"Yes." You were exasperated. "Honestly, he'd probably try to kiss you if I introduced you." It sounded ridiculous out of context. You reached for his hand, knowing that your touch helped ground him. "Din please believe me." You looked up at him.

"I believe you."

He hated how upset you looked, especially as it was his fault. You were blaming yourself for his own insecurity.

"I didn't mean to upset you." His voice was soft, trying to remove the hurt expression currently dominating your features.

You took a deep breath, but Din didn't miss how shaky it was. "It's fine. I get that this-" you gestured between the two of you "-is different for you, and for me as well. I wasn't thinking."

Din's chest felt heavy at your response. You were so good, always thinking of him over yourself. Even when he was most arguably in the wrong, you were the one apologising.

"Don't apologise. I overreacted."

"No you didn't."

Din cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. "Yes I did. I shouldn't have done that. I got jealous and stopped thinking straight. It's not your fault."

"Jealous?" You tilted your head questioningly, a gesture you'd unconsciously picked up from Din.

"I..." He hesitated.

"It's okay. You can tell me." You encouraged him gently. Your tummy was doing somersaults at his unspoken confession.

"I... care about you. And I like having you around. It's nice. I would hate for you to leave."

"Din, I would never leave you. Why would you think that?"

He shifted uncomfortably, and you realised he'd probably opened up more than he had done to most people. Discussing insecurities out in the open would not be at all easy or comfortable for him.

You approached him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. You pulled him towards you, squeezing tightly.

"I care about you too. And I love being with you. Please don't ever worry about me leaving. I would never."

"I know."

"You're all I have, you know? And the kid." You reassured.

His chin rested on top of your head, his arms wrapping around your back just as tightly as yours were around him. His hands felt warm against your back, and you loved having him so close, despite his beskar armour not being the most huggable material in the world.

"We can go back to the ship if you want to?" You asked.

"Okay."

You went to pull away but he kept one arm wrapped securely around you as you fell in step side by side, your own arm around his waist.

***

part three coming soon!

#mando x reader #mando oneshot #mando one shot #mando requests #din djarin x reader #din djarin requests #din djarin oneshot #din djarin one shot #the mandalorian requests #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian x reader

[incarnateirony]

In what season and episode did you realised that Destiel went from subtext to actual text?

Difficult question really. I don’t exactly have a magic switch of some weird personal set goalpost I have, and frankly, wasn’t even really a shipper, just defended shippers, until... 13.5/6. I think I started slipping after 12.19 because I’m not a moron, I don’t live under a rock, I have eyes and know what the fuck a mixtape means to Gen X. But I kept it at arms reach because even Carver era was so totally subtextual-- atop all the stuff that got cut S10 after the S9 blowout, I didn’t exactly want to invest myself as much as point out shippers weren’t crazy for seeing what they saw, especially S8/9+ and even prior the resonance of the hero’s journey over our entire human civilization and historical othering of queerness made earlier readings or notices of it completely fair even if not really like, directional by the crew?

But to begin, Carver era was when I saw /intentful and meritful construction of the body of text, via subtext, to subtextually tell a story with classic queer coding./ Because a lot of what this fandom calls queer coding makes me want to hide my face behind a quantum hole of facepalms and is often like, pretty much the reverse of what should be advocated or considered. All those retro old “he’s been written as queer from S1″ make me want to kick puppies or something because oh my god it’s Not Good, most of the content there is Very Bad And Hugely Problematic, and it’s an attempt to retroactively prove what old canon was doing without any substance.

Carver era was the shift to substance, but silent substance. Subtext that’s genuinely thematically scaffolded into the storyline in a way that while the events themselves were largely cued on subtext, consideration of that subtext was critical to understanding the full body of text and people that refused to grow into and adapt with that text as the tone shifted are the ones that got more and more confused and angry.

Dabb era was the threshold crossing into (often low-visibility) text. Fandom intentionally arguing points that require complete removal from social structures (which is everything from regional meanings of major symbols, social codes, language, or why-letters-mean-things) doesn’t mean shit doesn’t mean what it means. A mixtape isn’t subtext any more than getting on one knee and popping open a box is subtext even if they don’t verbalize the words. We know what these fucking things mean and anyone who doesn’t is in DESPERATE need of going outside and experiencing the real world before making any kind of social commentary on a body of text.

When it comes to dialogue text, Last Call is where Bi Dean or at least Queer Umbrella Dean was textualized. Again, it doesn’t matter if people don’t understand the long argued history that was put to bed about repeat sexual encounters with men, it doesn’t matter what the gender of the other triplets were, literally none of that matters. It doesn’t matter if the person understands it. It doesn’t matter if they know their queer culture enough to know their arguments were already buried. It is what it is.

There’s this disillusionment that unspoken physicalized shit like kissing or sex, or verbalized ones like “I love you,” but “I love you, in a gay way, specifically and only you, and want to be romantic with you” because every other statement of the like so far has people crying or arguing about it as not enough either. 

These things are nice, but it is not the only way to deliver a textual romance. These are things we want and deserve, and people aren’t wrong for wanting them, the only wrong comes in deleting other text because it isn’t the style of text they want. 100% unhelpful.

Text in AV is complex. No matter how decontextualized people try to pretend this all is, throwing pasta at the wall and calling it an argument worth validating, AV media study doesn’t just incorporate social codes on shit like dialogue -- though anyone that applies those social codes wouldn’t be arguing anyway, as per my old post on that -- but visual language and TV literacy are a long studied topic and are just as relevant as understanding of textual/verbal language and having textual literacy. People trying to eschew these in the interest of favoring fanspaces to try to keep them equal within the canon, which is NOT what fandom space equality is supposed to be about, is just... lol. 

When that soap opera reporter that doesn’t even watch the show wandered in commenting on the full mise en scene of the 15.03 breakup being classical “Dark Point in the Romance” framing, that’s not subtext. In a book, characters aren’t running around on a blank canvas. Their environments are the text. 

What people may draw symbolically out of an environment varies, and if someone’s /interpretation/ holds up, that’s fine. But being able to digest the entire presentation of a work, that is to say, to read an entire scene in a book and understand their setting and the relevance of that setting is simply a form of text. And when literal fucking randos can spot classic cinematography, it’s time to consider what the full cinematic framework is telling you both in incremental minutiae of texts and in the full body of work.

So basically, I acknowledged lowkey text based on the most basic understanding of social codes, by 12.19, even if I was still kinda eyerolling about it. By 13.5/6, Castiel returned to Dean in something later echoed by Eileen for the zoom shot, but the rest of the arrangement was verbatim identical to the original ending of Swan Song with Lisa, with the only difference being “Never too late” wasn’t a verbal line, but an entire sound track they applied to highlight the scene.

Despite the Swan Song parallel ending reactives went up in arms about the fact that they weren’t having big romantic moments anymore and kinda failed to wrap braincases around the fact that the endgame reunion that was literally the ORIGINAL endgame shot, which ALSO didn’t include physicality (in fact, the text read, “this isn’t sexual at all. He’s a lost soul, and she’s his home” in the script for Lisa), and this dumbass fandom would go “SEE PROOF THAT MEANS THE TEXT MEANS IT WASNT SEXUAL AND HE JUST BECAME BEST FRIENDS THAT WAS HER BEDWARMER MAYBE SHE HAS COLD FEET AT NIGHT” and that’s not how this fucking WORKS. Common sense is NOT removed from fucking discussion and what sense is applied needs to be levelly-- again, social codes.

So at 13.5/6 I had considered it textually paramount to the original endgame arrangement. S14 was just... blatant ass domesticity. Dean got his happy ending. He had his family. He got his win, his everything. They spoke frequently in the kitchen -- only vaguely over cases, more slapping around idioms, eyerolling over barbarous eating, and occasionally discussing how to raise their son. In fact, if you look at non-research-non-casework S14 kitchen scenes I’m gonna let you sit there and map out what all those domestic moments in the heart of the kitchen was, minding 13.5/6. 

It was something gained. It was their life. And it was something to lose. 14.18 already advert framed it, we all saw it. Troubled family. People delete history of what is connected where to pretend “we” is vague or makes the romance any less of a canon piece and lmao guys 

And season 15 is their year long run where they’re spearheading a huge part of the plot and will be a critical final resolution.

Speaking of 13.5/6 and social codes, anyone remember that Jack hadn’t met Dave Mather and looked at one nonphysical picture of them and recognized “he’s her boyfriend”? SOCIAL CODES MEAN SHIT GUYS.

So there’s no magic moment. There’s S8/9 coding and subtext. There’s S12′s tape and other elements -- tape is just the easiest to nail down but several through the year tbh -- there’s S13′s Never Too Late, and all things that followed that in waterfall. There’s S14′s established domesticity with Castiel having essentially moved into the bunker, something that wasn’t even entirely established in S12 yet even if he was more frequent there than Carver era.

Without social codes, I could argue that “Dean loves pie” doesn’t actually mean he loves pie. In fact, I could argue those letters mean nothing, because basic social codes are what even give words meanings. Without them these are just squiggly lines on a screen. If I eschew social codes, I could take a “love me some pie” line from Dean and say it means he fornicates with children and make long convoluded excuses around it instead of the observable fucking fact that Dean fucking Winchester likes goddamn pie.

Waiting for your perfect personally dreamed magic moment for a landmark to call text generally disregards the full body of the text and merit of the work. The amount of time and effort this FUCKING shipping fandom has put into -- even Destiel shippers -- bashing down and calling blatant ass text subtext because it’s not the text they want -- just because they want to argue with people that threw the logic baby out with the destiel bathwater they thought was dirty -- it’s fucking embarrassing tbqh. Imagine if people’s competitive fandom BS was muted how anyone here would be addressing this body of text.

Like. “After Carver directed Misha to play Castiel as a jilted lover in season 9, Cain through S10 escalated it into Castiel as Colette, which was confirmed by both the author and actors, seating him as a lover, as Sam was Abel the brother; by season 11, pining and connected hearts becomes the driving theme of the show, repeatedly denounced both in text and showrunner commentary that it wasn’t Amara that was that romance, and instead, a different one rose; by season 12, domestic arguments were many, mixtapes were shared, coming into rooms and playing people for things secretly stashed under pillows were a hinging plot moment, by season 13 he was the Never Too Late Big Win as a far more powerful version of Lisa, by season 14 Castiel moved in, by season 15 their giant sacred marriage euchartist ceremonies on repeat are driving the entire body of the season while overtly making the straight pairing a secondary parallel to the primary Dean and Castiel pairing by 15.09 such as the AU scene, or the ending where they mimicked the same phrase, truncated by physicality. But anyone viewing this text is an adult not competing for their preferred fandom playbox to be considered in the text, and had eyeballs, saw Sam and Eileen were clearly courting, flirting, and/or romantically engaged for a long time before this.”

Can we hope for the equality in that, sure.  I want that, sure. That doesn’t erase all the other modes of text before that though. 

But there, I just addressed 4 consecutive seasons of storytelling as its stands in the critical themes, without breaking down the dozens of independent scenes themselves that have already been analyzed to death and yall have scorched in your eyeballs by now like angels have prophet names. 

I’ve seen people desperately, desperately try to reinterpret this text, or this story structure, in inconsistent ways that fall short. They’re never held accountable for their entire shit falling flat on their face, they just keep building new shit that falls on its face too and keep using it as a base. People can *interpret* ~text~ however they want. Anyone that tells you that “true text is inarguable” is either an idiot or selling you something for your subscription to their blog. Anyone CAN make any jackass interpretation of anything they want. 

So sure. You can make some nonsensical explanation around every core theme their relationship is shadowed by, removing all social codes and context from basic elements understood by adult human beings natively, whatever. You can take 200 pages writing around it and degaying it. Generally when I see this, I see unhinged, incomplete writings with no central thread, just a thousand disembodied excuses that don’t even make a story. They’re just that. Desperate excuses. Years of it at this point. And they’re free to /interpret the text like that/ if they want. But that’s their /interpretation/ of a /text/ and as-above generally in /intentional, willful, conscious denial and erasure of the basic social codes we all understand./

Just because they /can/ warp the most left field interpretation doesn’t make it not text. If I pulled an “I don’t know I can’t english suddenly” and threw those codes out the window that doesn’t mean that the shit doesn’t mean the shit it means just because it’s inconvenient to me lmao

And this isn’t necessarily at you, Nonnie, I just feel the need to expand on this because any single time I don’t nail down these conversational stakes, someone breezes through and intentionally hotboxes the conversation to go down these very predictable manipulations and extremizations of the conversation that I really am far too tired to repeat the arguments raging in my mentions again, so I head ‘em off before the shit ever reblogs.

[quillreflections]

Title: Strawberry Avalanche

Chapter: 7

Series: Yugioh Zexal

Pairing: Trey Arclight/reader

Disclaimer: I started this when I was younger so the early chapters are kinda shitty lmao

If you were a beautiful sound in the echoes all around, then I’d be your harmony.

You took a deep breath as you bounded up the front stairs, coming to a slow halt in front of the giant doors. Hopefully the Arclights were in a better mood today. A gruff voice echoed over your shoulder as you hesitated. "What are you waiting for? I've got much better stuff to be doing." You tensed up at the chilly tone of Kite's voice, quickly knocking loudly on the door. You didn't really wanna stand with these guys for much longer. . . As if on cue, the door swung open and Trey grinned brightly at you and the ragtag group you'd gathered. Standing behind you on the stairs were almost all your friends; Yuma, Bronk and Caswell had been ecstatic to join in, and with a few extra promises you'd looped Shark and Kite into the deal too. Tori'd come along and had been eyeing you the entire time, not too keen on the idea behind your entire project. Somehow Ray had caught wind of the ordeal, and he'd brought along Alito, with Dumon following out of curiosity and Mizar coming along to keep everyone out of trouble. (He was actually interested, though. You could see it in his eyes.) They hadn't agreed to help quite yet, but they were clearly interested in watching for awhile- hopefully they agreed, once they saw what was going on, because the more people you had, the better. Trey nodded, smiling brightly as he greeted you all. "Come on in! You can leave your stuff in the coatroom- right over there!" He waved in some general direction before grabbing you by the sleeve and pulling you away, down the hall and into the room he'd set up. He'd clearly gone all-out in getting everything ready, since the two of you wanted to finish most of the project today; it was one of the spare rooms, and all the furniture had been shoved to the side, the floor was covered in white sheets to protect the hardwood. Off in one corner, by the floor-length windows, another sheet had been set up as a backdrop, with several spotlights and a few cameras and tripods. On the floor in the center of the room was a multitude of colored paints and different brushes. Michael turned to you, still smiling. "Do you think we'll need anything else?" You shook your head as the rest of the group wandered in, accompanied by the other Arclight brothers. "I think we've got most everything we need, so. . ." you clapped your hands together, unable to stop the probably extremely thirsty smirk crossing your face as you turned to the others. ". . . boys, I'm gonna need you to remove your shirts." ☆☆☆ You. . . you were leaning awfully close to Thomas. And he was leaning awfully close to you. Michael's breath caught in his throat as his older brother smirked, leaning forward to whisper something in your ear as you dragged the paintbrush across his collarbone. Thomas' red eyes darted over to the youngest brother, absolutely relishing in the visible chill frosting over his face. "Trey, what's wrong? Are you done?" Trey blinked, bringing his attention back to what he'd been doing. Yuma was staring at him in confusion, wondering why he'd stopped working. Trey chuckled and shook his head quickly, dipping his brush back in the red paint and getting back to work. "S-sorry! I was just thinking about something." Yuma shifted a bit in order to keep his eyes on his friend as he worked. "Are you sure you don't wanna talk about it? You looked kinda mad." Trey shook his head again, quickly changing the subject. You picked up the finest-pointed brush, coating it in the purple paint and bringing your hand up to Quattro's face. It was incredibly difficult not to blush as he stared intently at you. You slowly traced the end of his duel gazer's design, carefully drawing it out into a jagged pattern that went down his jaw and crossed his neck to meet the lines you'd painted over his collar. Every few moments he'd let out a sigh, occasionally shifting forward and leaning into you even more. Eventually you couldn't take his advances, dropping the paintbrush with a heavy sigh. "Quattro. . . why don't you go take a seat under the lights, and let this dry a bit?" "Aww, I was enjoying that. I'd hate to have to share you." You just shrugged awkwardly, not really sure what kind of reaction he wanted. Clearly that wasn't it, and he frowned as he wandered to the edge of the room. You stretched your hand a bit, massaging it and rolling your wrist before motioning Shark over. You didn't notice, but Trey visibly relaxed as his older brother walked away from you- Yuma noticed, though. His eyes wandered between you and his friend, and he slowly realized what had been bothering the other boy. Usually he's not that good at keeping quiet, but thankfully his voice was low as he spoke.

"Hey. . . you do like her, don't you?"

Trey's brushstrokes faltered a bit, but he recovered quickly. Yuma's his friend, so he can be told the truth- there's a lot of resolve in his voice as he responds with a solid "Yes, I very much do." Yuma's satisfied with that answer, going back to humming as Michael reaches for a different paint color.

☆☆☆

You sighed heavily, slumping against the kitchen counter.

Today you'd finished painting the older Arclights- Quattro's design was sharp and took a lot of space on his skin, whereas Quinton's was a very methodical pattern- as well as Yuma and Shark; unfortunately you'd run out of paint, so you only planned the designs for the others. The Barians had also been roped into agreeing to help you, so you needed to work on designs for them too-

"So, {Name}, what do you want for dinner? I think we have some leftovers, but if you can wait for a bit, I can make something pretty quickly-" Michael glanced at the clock before peering into the fridge. You looked at your own watch, amazed that it had gotten so late. You'd been having a lot of fun working, but it had been exhausting, and then you'd taken more time to photograph the already-finished designs-

"Hey Michael, you remember when we were kids? We'd have breakfast for dinner?"

"Yeah, that was pretty fun, wasn't it? Do you wanna do that again?"

You nodded, and he got to work on scrambling some eggs. He knows exactly how you like them, so there's nothing to worry about. You'd always enjoyed watching him work in the kitchen; he seemed like some kind of wizard, or maybe an angel. His movements were smooth and very soothing, his eyes always focused but sparkling with enthusiasm- he was always so careful not to get anything dangerous near you, and he'd memorized your favorites and least favorites, so he always knew exactly what to whip up whenever you were over. As he worked, he glanced at you over his shoulder. "Hey, do you want to sleep over again tonight?"

You were exhausted, and although you knew the Arclights would drive you home so you didn't have to make that walk in the dark, you didn't really feel like getting up right now- you nodded and Michael grinned. "You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in, and we've got plenty of spare rooms- but we can always set you up in my room too, if you want- ah, I'll find some old movies to watch before bed-"

You closed your eyes as he spoke, just enjoying the sound of his voice. This feeling- you'd missed him so much while he'd been gone, and were beyond overjoyed to finally have him back. Spending all this time with him was great, and made you happier than you'd been in awhile.

Before you opened your eyes and started helping with the cooking, you let yourself think for just a moment about how great it would be to come home to him one day, when the two of you were fully grown. It'd be really nice to stay with him forever, wouldn't it?

#strawberry avalanche #trey arclight #yugioh #Zexal

[eightiesrockbaby]

Line By Line

Chapter Two: Shakedown

Description: A tale of two young, haywire carousers and their turbulent relationship. Party girl Angelica Davis likes to think she has a love for chaos, but, perhaps the chaos of new-found love Nikki Sixx is just too much to handle.

Word Count: 1,975

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex and drugs/alcohol

Click here to find my masterpost!

Notes: Wow! I made another chapter of the thing I said would probably never get another chapter. Look at me go, man. Sometimes even I can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic or not lmao. Anyways, enjoy chapter two. This fic is pretty slow moving but I’ll fix that in the next few chapters dw <3

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Thump. Thump. Thump.

Fuck.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Fuck. Off.

Thump. Thump. Thu-

“You planning on coming through that fucking door T-Bone?” Nikki tried shouting, but his voice was hoarse.

“Come on Nikki, you’ve been in there since I woke up! You’re not the only one that needs to shower!” Tommy roared back, audibly agitated.

What Nikki’s roommate didn’t realise was that he wasn’t actually showering. He was barely even awake. Instead, he lay in the bathtub naked with his fuck-buddy of choice from last night. The two had retreated to the tub in the hours after their...antics.

“Be out in a sec,” Nikki grumbled back to his roommate. He was less than comfortable in his current position, but the thought of moving didn’t really entice him either. He heard Tommy huff from outside the door and strop down the hall.

Angelica stirred in her sleep, pressing her slim figure closer to Nikki’s. She grazed her hand over his bare chest and opened her eyes, dark make-up visibly smudged from last night. The fact that she was completely naked, although it did dawn on her, didn’t exactly bother her. She’d always been confident in her looks; always willing to show off to anyone that’d pay attention. And for Angelica, that was usually a lot of people.

“Mornin,” she murmured, yawning slightly into Nikki’s chest. Their legs were still intertwined as they lay facing each other, her head resting on his chest while his free arm draped around her waist. It was a cramped space, but neither really seemed to mind. Even sober.

“Tommy’s outside. Wants a shower.”

Angelica took that statement as a  ‘please get off of me’ and nodded, beginning to sit up in the confined space. After a short struggle, the two were stood in the bathroom; Nikki covering his nether region with one hand as he bent down to grab his trousers with the other.

Angelica rolled her eyes and smiled as she buttoned her now grubby black leather trousers. “You acting shy now, huh?”

Nikki laughed lightly, though his attention was mostly focused on the half-naked girl in front of him bending down to reach for her shirt.

“That I am not.” He earned a small chuckle in response as he began buttoning up his red shirt.

After succeeding in getting dressed semi-quickly, the two made their way out of the bathroom and into the living room where Tommy and Vince were sitting watching TV. Tommy sat on the edge of the sofa, cream-coloured towel in hand, but was too focused on the news channel to notice the pair walking in. Neither of the two wore a smile - or a frown for that matter - just a tired and lifeless expression.

“Well look who decided to join us,” Vince nodded towards the hallway the two had shuffled down, their heads hanging low to avoid the bright lights in the room.

“Angelica,” Tommy looked over, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Looks like you’ve already met my bassist then.” He stated, knowing the girl would internally face-palm herself as part of her immediate reaction.

She didn’t tend to have have sex with Tommy’s friends anymore. Not after they boasted to Tommy a little too often about the details of the things they had done to her. Especially not after it ended in Tommy and a friend throwing punches at each other in the middle of the strip because of his refusal to put a pin in the conversation topic.

However it wasn’t out of jealousy, because Tommy and Angelica could have had each other if they’d wanted to. They just didn’t. And even that one time they did fuck, it wasn’t because of attraction or lust. It was merely a rebound for him; a way to fuck the other chick out of his system. Angelica offered, too.

“Apparently so,” she mumbled in return, wandering over to beside Tommy and punching his shoulder lightly. He smiled, jokingly punching hers in return. He didn’t linger for long, instead rising from his position on the edge of the dirty beige couch and making his towards the shower.

It left the three in an awkward position, Angelica not really knowing neither of the boys and Nikki being too uncomfortable to introduce them. Or perhaps he had just forgotten her name. That seemed more likely.

Usually girls who spent the night hadn’t known any of the guys beforehand, so nobody felt bad for throwing them out. But it was apparent that Tommy knew her, so they thought it was only fair not to treat Angelica like the usual suspects.

That left Vince with one option, and one option only. He stood up from his spot on the couch and stuck out his hand, “Vince.”

“Angelica, Tommy’s friend,” she said, giving a small smile and shaking the blond’s hand firmly. A look of confusion spread across his face.

“The one with the Zeppelin tattoo on her ass,” she rolled her eyes playfully as a grin spread wide across Vince’s face. He knew exactly who she was.

Nikki was silent during this ordeal, taking himself to the kitchen and sipping at what was left of the orange juice. Though, his ears did prick up at that statement and his mind wandered back to last night. To how he saw every inch of her, and in every position, too. She had a good body, there’s no denying. And the tattoo, well, that just made her even hotter.

A drunken Robert Plant tattoo wasn’t exactly seen as ‘hot’ by Angelica’s other friends, though in the heat of the moment Nikki became rather fond of the addition.

“Bet Nikki enjoyed seeing that one,” Vince joked and looked over to Nikki as he returned to sit beside him on the couch.

“Fuck you,” Nikki sneered back, taking a large gulp out of the orange juice carton he’d brought back with him. Well, someone wasn’t a morning person. Or an early afternoon person, considering it was already past twelve.

Vince squeezed his roommate’s shoulders lightly, whispering something in his ear that went unheard by Angelica. He then offered to give the girl a ride home after Tommy got out of the shower which, despite being a nice offer, wasn’t something Angelica really liked the idea of. She got travel sick at the best of times, so getting into a car with a near-enough stranger while hungover was essentially a no-go on her part. Instead, she decided to escape from the apartment while Tommy was in the process of getting dressed so as to avoid the teasing that was sure to ensue.

Saying goodbye to the guys was awkward to say the least. She met Mick on her way out, who she now knew as the band’s guitarist. He dealt with things a bit better than the others, making sure that she had a key to get back into her apartment.

Nevertheless, to say she was thankful to be back home was an understatement. The minute she banged her front door shut her heels were off and a beer was in-hand. Her roommates were quick to ask her about last night; what she did after they split up or, more accurately, who she did. Valerie, as per usual when one of the girls told her they had hooked up with someone, wanted to know every last detail. Except, Angelica couldn’t really remember much. The parts she did were...eventful, to say the least.

Nancy just huffed, saying that when she had seen Nikki at a bar a couple months back he paid no attention to her. It sounded unusual to Angelica, that he wouldn’t go for Nance. She was petite, blue eyed, and looked fine as hell in a tiny black skirt. What more could a guy ask for?

They had decided against going out for lunch - it was too much effort to walk into back down town and none of them had a car. They did still have the stranger’s keys from last night, but even that had the girls at a loss considering none of them could remember where the car was parked. No, ordering pizza was a definitely a safer option.

So there they sat, engrossed in a new episode of Happy Days, sprawled out on top of each other on their little red couch. The door knocked and Angelica peeled herself off the couch to open it, grabbing a few bills from the side table for the delivery man. The other two were too focused on the episode to even hear the door go. Typical.

She swung the door open, waiting for the smell of warm pizza to engulf her senses. Though, that was not the case. Instead, a weary-looking Nikki was standing holding her leather jacket out to her. Despite seeing him earlier this morning, he looked slightly different. Better, actually. His green eyes even had a slight twinkle to them. Huh.

“You, um, you forgot this,” he stuttered, looking down and kicking the gravel lightly with his clumpy black combat-style boots. Angelica took the jacket, nodding and saying a quiet thank you.

The two stood in silence for a few minutes. They didn’t really have much to talk about if they were being honest.

“Tommy was wondering if you and your roommates wanted to grab some food with us?” He looked down at the ground, as though he was embarrassed almost. Angelica didn’t quite understand why.

She looked down at Tommy’s ratchet car as she heard the engine rev. He smiled up at her, shouting an encouraging, ‘come on!’ He even beeped the horn.

God, sometimes he could be a pest. A loveable pest nonetheless.

“Give me a sec,” she spoke to Nikki, heading back inside and leaving the door slightly open. Nikki glanced around what he could see of the inside of the apartment; it seemed nice enough - the kitchen was mostly tidy and the walls weren’t too dull. Essentially, it was the opposite of his roach-infested place. He could hear the girls bickering in the background but didn’t pay much attention to it.

A couple arguments and ‘I can’t find my shoe’ moments later, the girls headed down to Tommy’s car with Nikki leading the way. They weren’t opposed to going out with the guys for lunch, it just took Angelica and Valerie some time to convince Nancy to want to move.

Val would jump at the chance to spend time with a guy her friend slept with. It was strange reasoning, but if it got her out of the house Angelica didn’t really mind. She herself was only going because she would feel bad for turning down a seemingly nervous Nikki, and as a way to meet Tommy’s band members in a more...open...setting.

Meant for five people, the car was now pretty cramped with the seven of them in it. With Tommy sat in the driver’s seat and Valerie insisting on sitting beside him to pick the music, it left the other five to fight it out in the back. Poor Mick was squished between Nikki and Vince as the two girls sat on their laps. Nancy didn’t mind sitting on Vince’s knee. It was Vince, after all. Nikki had his arms wrapped firmly around Angelica’s waist to make sure that, when Tommy eventually came to a grinding halt in the diner car park, she wouldn’t be thrown into the back of the driver’s seat.

The two made small talk for the majority of the ride, though Angelica mostly concentrated on trying not to throw up from her friend’s reckless driving. It wasn’t as awkward as it was earlier this afternoon, or even when Nikki had initially come to the door. It was actually quite pleasant; the two of them laughing and mocking Valerie’s poor choice of music. Perhaps lunch was a good idea after all.

#the dirt #the dirt movie #motley crue #motley crue movie #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #fanfiction #fanfic #motley crue fanfic #motely crue fanfiction #the dirt fanfic #the dirt fanfiction #the dirt fandom #motely crue fandom

[f-l-writes]

Otherwordly

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of nudity

Word Count: 3.7 K

Hope you enjoy and feel free to request

Wandering along the shore of the lake near your new home, you didn’t expect to see the most beautiful horse you had ever laid eyes on. It’s black coat shimmered in the silver light of the full moon and it’s mane was twisted in mimics of braids. Amongst this all, though, you noticed that the horse was dripping with water from head to toe, the sand beneath it darkened by the water that rolled off of the black coat.

Something deep down told you not to approach the horse. That it was a wild animal that could act out against you and harm you. Along with that, you heard the voice of your late grandfather telling you the story of the fey who could shift from horse to human. Faeries who would trick you and draw in by looking like beautiful horses only to drown you in whatever body of water was closest, showing their true forms as you drowned.

When the horse’s head turned towards you, you froze. You felt a slight bit of fear pierce your heart as it acknowledged you, its eyes glinting with an obvious intelligence that seemed beyond that of a normal horse. With a chill down your spine and the continuous effort to fight off the want to approach the horse, you turned and began to walk back to your home, the light from your phone guiding your way until you reached the door.

As you turned to look at the woods you emerged from, you saw the glinting of eyes staring at you from the forest, watching as you stepped inside your home and locked the door behind you, the beast highly unaware of the fear and intrigue you felt.

That night, you slept restlessly, your mind concocting images of the horse turning into Mark Lee, one of your closest friends, and dragging you beneath the lake’s surface, his face contorting as your vision finally fell completely black.

Waking with a jerk in the morning, you could feel sweat sticking the hair to the nape of your neck and rolling down your back, your tank top clinging disgustingly to your back. Running a hand over your face, you felt your heart stop in your chest for a second as you remembered you had work that day.

Jumping out of bed, you quickly compiled an outfit of a plain black tee shirt with a single pocket over the breast, a pair of distressed, black jeans, and your favorite pair of blue, mid-calf, Cookie Monster socks. As you moved towards the shower, you undressed yourself, deciding that you could pick up the trail of clothes once you got home from work.

Setting your clothes down on the counter as you reached the bathroom, you quickly walked over to the shower and turned the water on, getting in swiftly and bearing the freezing cold water as it slowly heated up. As the shower went on and you finally got around to washing your hair and body, the dream came back to you. It was a highly unpleasant thought and you did your best to try and push it away, not wanting to think of it much longer. After all, it was only a nightmare. It didn’t mean anything, right?

Once out of the shower and with a towel wrapped around your body, you made swift work of drying yourself off and getting dressed, preparing yourself for the day. As you headed back into your room to grab your phone, you hit the power button and watched as it sprung to life, the bright screen illuminating 3:01. You gawked at the device before finally looking out your window and realizing just how dark it really seemed to be outside.

Sighing, you sat on the bed and let your head hang, eyes closing for a moment until your screen displayed a message, the light causing you to snap your eyes open and see who it was from.

Markie: I had the weirdest fucking dream…

You chuckled to yourself, quickly texting the male back. Same. Also I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you when I see you at work lmao.

Your phone remained bare for the rest of the morning as you decided to just finish your routine as usual, figuring some time to sort out your thoughts wouldn’t kill you. As you settled on the couch, a cup of coffee warming your ice-cold hands, you let your mind wander to the night before and the feeling that encased you of seeing the horse by the lake.

While you didn’t quite recognize the feeling then, there was an underlying feeling of familiarity with the beast. You couldn’t pinpoint why, but it was there and it was a bit unsettling if you were going to be honest with yourself.

Lifting the cup of coffee to your lips, you let the heated liquid slide down your throat, appreciating the warm feeling it left in your stomach. For the following thirty minutes, you drank the coffee slowly, finally managing to settle your thoughts until your alarm went off. Shutting it off, you decided now was as good of a time as any to leave so you could beat traffic as well as stop for something better than cereal on your way to the Box Lunch you worked at.

Getting up, you dumped the rest of your coffee down the drain, setting the cup in the once bare sink before you headed to the exit of your home and slipped on your red and white Converse before grabbing your plain grain jacket off of the jacket stand next to your door, your keys already tucked safely into the pocket of the jacket.

With that, you were off, climbing into your car and listening to the quiet talk of the radio station hosts and music as you drove off. By the time you had reached the McDonald’s closest to the mall the Box Lunch was in, you had about an hour left before you had to be to work for the opening shift.

You were thankful that the line was quick and you were able to order what you wanted quickly and, thankfully, without any mishaps. From there, you pulled around to the side and sat in the parking lot as you ate, watching your phone for any more messages from Mark or any other friends and co-workers. However, as your breakfast session came to an end, there had been nothing and you were finally pulling up into the parking lot to get ready and head into work.

As you pulled over to the employee parking, you noted that Mark’s car was already there, which confused you greatly. He wasn’t one to show up early usually, instead opting to be on time. Deciding to park beside his vehicle, you slowly got out of your car and peered into the male’s vehicle, eyes scanning the driver’s seat. Upon seeing nothing, you headed into the mall, making your way towards the store you spent your time slaving away to.

Stepping in, you carefully shut the glass door of the shop behind you, heading back to the break room to see if Mark was indeed early and just napping back there before work began. However, what you saw startled you. Yes, Mark was indeed there, but he was soaked from head to toe despite there having been no rain. He was shivering, lying on his side as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

With a shocked gasp, you rushed to his side, helping him sit up before you took your jacket off and set it around his shoulders. Hopping up, you tried to find the thermostat as quickly as you could, putting the heat up as high as you could despite how much you hated the extra heat.

Finding yourself back at Mark’s side, he seemed to have been stabilized a bit, now sitting and rocking back and forth, hugging your jacket around his frame. He was visibly zoning out, his eyes glossed over, brows drawn together. Kneeling before him, you set your hands on his shoulders, deciding now would be the time to ask just what the hell had happened before any other co-workers arrived.

“Mark… I need you to tell me what happened,” you cooed softly, trying to keep a steady gaze on his eyes. He seemed so out of it, you weren’t sure how he would be able to perform decently today.

“I… I don’t know… I woke up drowning and I-I… When I finally managed to get to the shore bed I was hardly clinging on…” he said quietly. “Once I had recovered a bit, I had walked through the woods to find my car and I just drove to work,” he continued.

“Mark, you should have called me,” you stated quietly, pulling the soaked male into your warm body, letting him warm up.

His breathing was more even now and, within moments, it seemed like he had fallen asleep. Pulling away, you couldn’t help but to smile at the way his lips parted, soft breaths puffing through. Carefully, you picked the man up and carried him over to one of the chairs that you had supplied for the back room while you were moving to your new house.

Walking out into the main store, you grabbed one of the fluffy Nightmare Before Christmas blankets and carried it back to him, unrolling the fabric and laying it over him. From there, you took your wallet out of your purse, putting the needed cash into the cash register before going back and looking over the male as he slept.

You remained there until a few other co-workers made their way to the back to see you and him. They had given you a questioning look but said nothing as they set to work on stocking up the store while you waited for Mark to wake up.

When he did, there was about fifteen minutes before the mall actually opened and the two of you, finally, set to work. He spent any second near you telling you how thankful he was that you had helped him and, as a joke on his end, how you were as warm as a dragon’s fire. You had simply smiled at the remark, telling him it was your pleasure to help and that you would do it again in a heartbeat.

As the day dragged on, you had grown increasingly quiet, wanting nothing more than to just home and sleep. You were growing tired of the people and your co-workers and, on top of that, your skin seemed like it was drying out, almost to scale-like roughness. You didn’t quite mind that, as it was normal for you but, on the other hand, it was obvious to anyone who touched you that they didn’t like the roughness of your hands.

Hell, even you were getting annoyed as it was now rubbing even more holes into your jeans whenever you tried to wipe the sweat off your hands, the rough skin catching on the fabric.

When it came time for your break, Mark had taken it as an opportunity to treat you for helping him. While you had denied at first, figuring you could just find a place and sleep for the break, he had coaxed you by promising to get your favorite from the food court. Following him up to the second story of the mall for food, he had made you take a seat while he got the food, taking only a few minutes to do so as the mall was surprisingly empty.

When he finally sat back down, he had taken a hold of your hands and flipped your hands so your palms faced upwards. He examined the rough, scale-ish looking skin before looking up at you, a brow cocked.

“Have you tried lotion?” he teased.

“Several times.” you rolled your eyes, knowing that wouldn’t have helped. If anything, this was only going to get worse throughout the day but, as soon as you got home, you would be able to do as you liked. After all, it was why you got the isolated home anyways.

Mark snickered as he released your hands, grabbing his food and beginning to eat. You followed suit, making joking remarks to one another and enjoying the break. Unfortunately, it ended all too soon and the two of you were back to work.

Throughout the rest of the day, you had gotten comments from colleagues and shoppers alike about your “colored contacts”. You had simply waved them off with a smile, saying you were trying something new though it was quite the opposite of that. It was simply something you had to deal with from time to time. The sudden brightening of your eyes and sensitivity to bright lights. It was admittedly annoying.

When your shift finally ended, you headed to the back room with a sigh, stopping when you saw Mark holding something in his hands, a confused look on his face. Walking over, you peered over his shoulder, realizing it was a photo from your wallet. Taking it from his hands, you looked down at it and realized why he was so confused. It was you with your grandfather many years ago as he was finally going to pass.

The only problem, however, was the state he was in. Your family was far from normal, coming from a long line of people who had been cursed to act as a “demon’s servant”. While that was no longer the case, there was still the issue of the family being, more or less, shapeshifters. Or perhaps the human came first? You weren’t sure. Whatever it was, it was shown clearly in the photograph.

In your grandfather’s dying days, he had decided to assumed the only form that wasn’t taxing on his mind and body, that of which was the dragon form that your family had been born with. He was a great beast, larger than the family home you had lived in prior. His scales were a wicked and beautiful green and his eyes were a brighter green than anything you had ever seen despite being on his deathbed.

The grass below him was dying out and, as you looked at the photo, you felt your heart clench. He was an amazing man in both forms and he was most certainly a formidable foe (he was poisonous, after all).

While he resembled the typical dragon with four legs and wings, he had given birth to four other types that he hadn’t expected. You aunt was an amphitere, a dragon with a snake’s body and wings. Your second aunt had been a wyvern, a dragon with two wings, two legs and a barbed tail. Your uncle had been a luck dragon, which almost immediately made him an outlier. With pink and white scales, some fur, and head almost like a lion’s, he was outcasted. Finally was your father. He had been born as a drake, a dragon with no wings, four legs, a spiny back and scales on the rest of the body.

Consequently, you had been born a drake as well despite having the genes for any other type of dragon, as your cousin had been born as typical dragon like her grandfather instead of as an amphitere.

“Y/N?” Mark questioned, his brows still furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on in that photo?”

Mark’s words startled you from your thoughts, your breath catching in your throat as you turned to look at him.

“I, uh, it’s nothing. Just a PhotoShop my cousin made for me,” you lied, smiling at the male.

“That doesn’t look PhotoShopped,” Mark argued, his eyes flickering over to the photo that was now clutched in your hand.

“Well it was, Mark. Now, if you’ll excuse-”

“You never told me the dream you had last night,” Mark suddenly changed the topic, eyes burning into your own.

In that moment, you felt the same emotion you felt the night before. The slight fear of being so close while at the same time feeling comforted by him, knowing he wouldn’t do anything to you.

“It was just a nightmare, Mark. Based off of something I saw by the lake near my house,” you explained, walking over to your bag and tucking the photo away into your wallet.

“What did you see?”

“It was just a horse. I was taken by surprise and mixed with what my grandfather used to say, it must have manifested into a nightmare.”

“I’m assuming he used to say stuff about kelpies, then?” Mark questioned, stopping you in your tracks.

“Well, yeah, those are the shapeshifting horses, aren’t they? Faeries who kill by luring in humans with their beautiful looks before dragging them under and killing them?”

You didn’t hear clearly what Mark said next but it almost sounded like we’re not all like that…

“Anyways, Mark, I know you don’t have work tomorrow so feel free to stop by, tonight, alright?”

There was a grunt of acknowledgement from the man before you finally gathered your things and made it out to your car, making the drive back to your house.

Letting a sigh escape your lips as you entered the home, you slipped off your jacket and shoes, placing them where they had been that morning before you continued to strip down until you were in nothing. From there, you headed to the room which you had future plans for it to be a guest bedroom. Once there, you let yourself go, letting the human facade fall as you revealed to no one what you were.

You were quite a specimen to look at, really. You were more decorative than your father had been with his dark gray scales and black eyes. Instead, you had glowing, yellow eyes and scales that rivaled the beauty of silver and diamonds. You were lengthy, your tail brushing over the door while your snout nearly touched the wall. Finally outside of the release of your human form, you curled up and laid down, resting your head on your front legs, unaware of the man who had stepped into your home with the help of the keys you had given him.

When Mark had stepped into the room in his search for you, he had sucked in a breath. At first, he had thought it was simply a pile of some sort of metal until he saw the tail stretch out and flick to the side. He continued to watch, even as you stretched and rolled onto your side, tail forced to curve and head bent forward so you didn’t hit the wall.

Stepping into the room, Mark walked over to you before he kneeled before your exposed midsection, placing a hand on your stomach. You had jerked back from the touch, your eyes snapping open to look at the feeling of someone’s hand against your torso. He had quickly retrieved his hand, watching as you returned to how he knew you.

He blushed upon noticing that you were naked but he kept his focus on your face, wondering how you had managed to keep such a large secret from him for so long. Though you’re not the only one.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s fine… I should have told you anyways, Mark. You’re my best friend,” you smiled at him, seemingly unbothered by baring your entire body to the male.

“I… Would you mind if I showed you something as well, then?” he questioned, his words piquing your curiosity.

“Of course, go ahead,” you stated, watching as he stood.

In record time, Mark was no longer the being in front of you. Instead it was a horse. Not just any horse, either, but the horse. The one you saw the night before.

“So it really was you… My dream wasn’t wrong completely,” you breathed out, walking over to the male and setting hand on the side of his snout.

He leaned his head into your hand, stepping closer to you as he closed his eyes, the warm breath exiting his nostrils hitting your face gently. He remained in the form for only a few moments longer before he decided to change back, now just as bare as you were, leaving you to be the one blushing.

“I guess we shouldn’t have hid ourselves from one another,” he commented. “Neither of us are from this world…” As he spoke, Mark stepped closer to you until he was within kissing distance.

“Very true,” you commented quietly, your eyes catching Mark’s before he glanced down at your lips, stepping even closer still, pressing his lips to your own. For a minute, the two of you remained tangled like that, your hands tangling in the male’s hair while his own had found their way down to your hips, pulling you ever closer still.

When he finally pulled away, he was breathless, as were you. His cheeks were flushed and his heart was pounding in his chest. You mimicked him almost completely, your eyes half-closed as you let the situation run over in your mind.

“That was… certainly something,” you responded, a smirk breaking over your lips.

“That it was… Now, when you see me on the shore of the lake, don’t turn and run,” he teased, causing you to slap his arm.

“Whatever, Mark. What were you even doing out there anyways?” you questioned, walking past him to head to your room and get dressed.

“Thinking.”

You hummed in response, pulling a shirt over your head before moving on to pants. You caught Mark watching before you winked, walking back out to him and clasping his hand in your own.

“Do you think it’s possible for a dragon and kelpie to be together?”

“Well, if it wasn’t before, it certainly is now,” he responded, raising your hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

The rest of the night consisted of you making fun of stereotypes you’d heard about kelpies while he did the same about dragons. The two of you worked on knowing more about one another both as humans and as creatures that didn’t belong. Even if it wasn’t right to many, it felt right to you and him and, for now, that’s all you care about.

#kpop fake texts #h-l-w-kpop #nct #nct dream #nct u #nct 127 #supernatural au #non idol au #mark lee #nct mark #lee minhyung #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #x reader #nct x reader #kelpie #dragon #shapeshifter au #enjoy #for mark lee anon

[svtnreactions]

“occult” CH. 1 - BTS x reader

bts x female reader

romance / fantasy / action / etc. ??

word count: 5796 oof

plot: after, accidentally, causing quite a disaster for your family, you land yourself in the ‘twilight zone’- a home for kids with more than human abilities. you’re meant to spend your time there learning how to control your powers. however, fate has another thing in store for you and your housemates.

so this has been in the works for a while. i already have the next chapter ready if anyone likes this so far ... heads up: it’s like an odd sort of miss peregrine’s + red queen + monsters vs. aliens (LMao) mashup but with bts!!!!! literally what am i doing. 

- cc

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Your neighborhood was illuminated by red and blue lights. The sirens cut through the quiet of the night and echoed down the streets. It was chaos. Yet, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

The pajamas you were wearing hung off your body where the fire had seared it, and in any other circumstance you’d be looking  for a way to cover your exposed skin. However, your attention was on the building in front you. Your home, the place you grew up in. The firemen were hard at work, but there’s only so much you can do to stop flames that are tall enough to lick the sky.

You felt the presence of the man at your side, even before he draped the blanket over your shoulders.

“I know what you did,” He said, “I know what you’re capable of.”

It wasn’t an accusation, nor was there any trace of venom in his words, but the statement didn’t fail to send chills down your spine.

“I can help you, Y/N.”

Your mind wanders back to that night more often than you’d like. You had been traveling all day and a three hour plane ride, followed by an equally long drive, allowed you a painful amount of time to reminisce.

Things had to come crashing down at some point. That’s what you kept telling yourself, hoping you’d begin to believe it. There was no way you could’ve kept your ‘peculiarities’ a secret forever, right? Not in a world so afraid of change, so set in its’ ways.

The radio connection became staticky as the driver took you over a small bridge. As you listened to the old blues singer’s voice fade in and out, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were at fault for the poor connection.

You’d never been sure if it was a friend or foe, but one thing is for certain, electricity is a part of you. It’s pulsing through you at any and every moment, a silent reminder that you’re special, as well as dangerous beyond comprehension.

Your hands flattened out your skirt repeatedly, a nervous tick you had acquired as a young girl.  The vehicle’s leather interior was cracked and curling up in places, scratching at your bare legs and making you profusely uncomfortable. You silently hoped that you would be arriving soon.

Thankfully, your prayers were answered only moments later, as the car rounded a sharp corner in the dirt road. For miles, all you’d seen was the road and the forest surrounding it. Now, a large, gawky house was jutting out of the horizon.

As the car slowed beside the house, the front door swung open and a figure descended the wooden stairs. You felt a spark ran up your arm as your anxiety heightened. Meeting the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He nodded his head and offered a soft smile. With that, you gathered as much as confidence as you could and pushed the car door open.

The boy jogged over to you. Your eyes immediately directed to his hair, which was a striking lavender color. When he slowed to a walk, he began to speak with a voice deeper than the sea and smoother than honey.

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” The boy presumed, his dimples beginning to show. “I’m Namjoon. Headmaster Lee sent me to give you a quick tour.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” You responded. “Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” You gave a weak grin. Normally, you’re a pretty enthusiastic person, someone who believes in the importance of a first impression. But a lot had changed in the past few months.

“You too.” His smiled wavered for a second, his eyes skimming around the top of your head and torso. “Okay, well, follow me.” Namjoon glanced over his shoulder at you, “There’s no need to be nervous. We’re like a family here.”

You only nodded in response, your heart clenching at the thought of your real family- your parents. Were they relieved to see you go?

As the two of you stepped into the house’s parlor, the area above you immediately caught your attention. Stairs made out of the same wood as the exterior of the house, twisted up in a square formation for at least three floors. An enormous skylight on the roof allowed the afternoon sun to pour in. The only word to fully capture the view was, truly, magical.

“Welcome to the Twilight Zone.” Namjoon said breathily. His gaze was fixed on your side profile, “Pretty nice, huh?”

“The Twilight Zone?” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

Namjoon seemed happy you had asked, turning on his heel to lead you through a narrow hallway just big enough for one person to pass through at a time. “That’s what we like to call it here. Because this place- or rather, the people in it, are surreal. Just, totally bizarre.” He explained, a touch of humor in his voice, “No ordinary person could comprehend the shit that happens in this house.”

“Good thing I’m not ordinary.” You said. Your laugh had a certain bitterness to it.

“Good thing.” Namjoon reiterated.

For some reason, you’d expected the house to be buzzing with activity. However, other than you and Namjoon, the only sign of life was the occasional passing of maids. Dressed in the stereotypical black and white uniform, they quietly milled around with brooms, dusters, and laundry in hand.

“How many kids live here?” You asked, having yet to see another person your age.

Namjoon puckered his lips thoughtfully and began to count on his fingers. “There’s seven of us.” He chuckled, gently nudging your shoulder. “Well, eight now.”

You laughed softly, keeping your eyes on the ground. His words were a reminder that you didn’t quite appreciate. You were already beyond homesick and the thought of living in this strange, unfamiliar place was making your stomach churn. “So where is everyone, then?”

“The living room, I’d imagine. Or at least some of them are.” He was motioning towards an open doorway you were slowly approaching.

Namjoon lowered his voice to a whisper. “Just, keep in mind that they don’t get to talk to girls our age very often. It’s been a pretty long time since someone like you has lived with us.” You were nodding along, though several things about his statement confused you. You waited for him to step in, then followed on his heels.

Before you could take in the scenery of the new room, you saw the boys inhabiting it. One had his back to the doorway. He was hunched over an old television set, slamming the side with his palm. “I swear to god, if this thing craps out one more time!”

“Quit it, Jin.” Another boy spoke up exhaustively. He was sprawled out on the vintage, floral print couch, his face buried in a book. His hair, which was powder pink, was significantly more attention grabbing than Namjoon’s.

Neither boy seemed to notice you and your tour guide’s presence until Namjoon cleared his throat and sidestepped to make sure you were visible. He clasped his hands together and gave a closed mouth smile. “Jimin, Jin, this is Y/N- Headmaster’s newest misfit. She just arrived.”

Their heads immediately snapped in your direction, question marks on their foreheads. The powder pink haired boy, Jimin, shifted and let go of his book. You watched the pages slowly turn until he had completely lost his place. Now it was clear to you that he wasn't on the couch at all. He was floating- above it. You shouldn’t have been so surprised, after all, this place is meant for people just as strange as you.

“This is Y/N?” Jimin immediately said with his eyes wide as saucers. Getting used to the sight of him lounging about in mid-air was proving to be rather difficult. You blew air from your nostrils, the sound showing your amusement.

“So, when Headmaster Lee said the new kid is ‘a bit unconventional’....this is what he meant?” Jin followed up. Much like Jimin, he didn’t bother to mask his stupefaction. He broke into a grin. “A girl?”

You tugged on a lock of hair that had slipped from your ponytail. The headmaster had gone on and on about the benefits of being surrounded by people with similar situations. People who you could learn and grow with, people who would understand you- god knows your parents never did. However, you still seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in this place.

There was that tingle, that spark of electricity again. It traveled up your spine, sending your entire body into shivers.

“Yes, it’s been awhile since Headmaster accepted girls here,” Namjoon kept his eyes on you, though his words were directed towards the boys. Somehow, he seemed to see through your cool exterior. “But please, Y/N is staying with us now, so make her feel welcome.”

Jin and Jimin shared a look, their eyebrows raised. Jin was the first to break away as he placed a hand on his forehead and saluted Namjoon. “Yes, drill sergeant!”

Namjoon let out a deep sigh in response, accompanying it with an eye roll. The boys’ conversation was fading off and so, you took advantage of the absence of dialogue. “So, that’s like, your power.” You uttered, motioning to Jimin with raised eyebrows.

Jimin’s face was blank for a moment before he broke out into a grin. He nodded whilst laughing, quite amused by your words. “Levitation.”

“This is pretty much the extent of it.” Jin snorted. He then lowered his voice and cupped his mouth before continuing, as if he was whispering to you, “It’s one of the less interesting powers in the house.”

“Well that’s rich coming from you. You’re like an off-brand ‘The Flash’.” Jimin shot back.

Jin’s figure blurred, and in an instant he was at Jimin’s side, slapping him on the back of the head. “Try me when you can full-on fly.”

It was then that the echo of approaching footsteps reached your ears. All at once, everyone looked in the direction of the sound. Soon enough, you came face to face with one of the maids.

“Miss Y/L/N, your bags have all been moved to your room.” She was an older woman with a voice that wavered ever so slightly when she spoke. “I’ve been instructed to escort you there. Would you please follow me?”

“Namjoon, I think you were just fired from your ‘tour guide’ position.”, Jin teased.

Ignoring his friend, your former tour guide offered you a lopsided smirk. “Well, I guess this is where we part! I’ll see you later- at dinner, probably.”

You exhaled deeply before returning a nervous grin. The worry bubbled up inside of you like a bad stomach ache. “Thank you for showing me around, Namjoon.” You framed, looking to Jimin and Jin as well, “Nice meeting you guys.”

Tentatively, you tailed the maid as she made her exit.

Calling this place a ‘bedroom’ would be pretty generous.

Sure, it was a room with a bed in it. But ‘closet’ would be much more fitting. The first thing anyone would notice was how insanely cramped it is.

A twin sized mattress was pressed against the wall in the far right corner and a dresser stood diagonal to it. Those things alone took up the majority of the room, only leaving a small pathway for you to get to and from the door.

Because the house wasn’t set up to be co-ed, there was no wing for female teenagers. The only way you were able to have a regular sized bedroom was if you shared one with the boys. And so, that’s how you landed in an unoccupied room within the maid’s quarters.

You didn’t really mind, to be honest. You hadn’t expected anything fancy when you agreed to come here- so there was no chance at you being disappointed. Actually, you were pleasantly surprised in some ways: like how comfortable your bed was, or how much room you had in the dresser drawers.

Curled up in fetal position on top of the comforter, you stared up at the little window above the dresser. The sun was setting and it sent a warm, orange light dancing across the walls. You knew that there was so many things for you to be thinking about. Your parents, your new home and its occupants- yet in that moment, your mind was completely blank.

It wasn’t until there was a knock at your door that you were pulled out of the soothing nothingness of your brain and back into reality. And when you got up and tugged it open, you were staring up at Namjoon. You were were a bit surprised, having been expecting to see a maid on the other side of the door. About an hour ago one of them had shown up to let you know that dinner was ready, but you declined. Sure, you were famished- but you were also completely exhausted, and not quite in the mood for meeting the rest of your housemates.

“Thought you might be hungry.” Namjoon deduced, holding a plate out to you with one hand.

You may have been a little too eager, accepting it without the slightest hesitation. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

He nodded, as if accepting your thanks. “Sorry it got a bit cold.” He said with a chuckle, “It was warm when I left the dining room, but there were a lot of stairs between there and here.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged it off, already piercing a chunk of chicken with your fork, “It’s my fault for not coming to dinner.”

Namjoon leaned against the door frame and the sleeve of his flannel, which had been unbuttoned, slid down to his elbow. Something like sadness was behind the smile spreading across his cheeks. Reminiscence, perhaps. “You need time to adjust.” He pieced his words together slowly, “Believe me, we’ve all been there.”

“How long have you lived here?” You asked, your curiosity piquing. Shoveling some broccoli into your mouth, you waited for his answer.

He took a moment to exhale slowly. “About 6 years now.”

You sputtered, nearly choking on your food. “6 years?” He couldn’t have been much older than 12 when he first came here.

“6 years.” Namjoon repeated, seeming quite amused by your reaction. “I’ve been here the longest out of everyone, believe it or not.” He followed up sarcastically.

Your eyebrows were raised, mouth sitting in an ‘o’ formation, “So, what’s your ability?” You asked. The question was rolling around in your head since you’d met him. There was no obvious answer, like there had been with Jimin, and you were insanely curious.

Namjoon paused before casually stating, “Aura vision.”

“And what is that exactly?” You puzzled, pouting your lips curiously.

“Well, everyone has an aura. It’s a sort of a bright, glowing outline.” He explained, “I can see them. What color they are, how bright they are.”

Something in your brain clicked. You remembered all the times today that Namjoon seemed to be looking around you, rather than at you. “What does a person’s aura say about them?” You pursued, becoming more and more intrigued.

He shrugged, “It can tell a lot about you, from your personality, to your emotions.”

“What’s my aura saying about me?” You looked down at your arm, wishing you could see what he could. What an interesting and delicate power. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t envy him.

Namjoon smiled and ruffled your hair, “That’s for another day.” He covered his mouth with a hand and yawned into it. “I should probably get to bed. We have class pretty early tomorrow.”

You agreed, trying not to show your disappointment. You cleaned the last bits of your dinner off of your plate. “See you in the morning, then?”

“I’ll be there.” And with one last wave, he stepped off in the direction of the stairs.

Once he was gone, you placed the empty dish on top of your dresser and flopped onto your bed. You were so tired, you found yourself nodding off in a matter of seconds. But, tragically, your bladder had ideas of its’ own. Rolling out of bed, you irritably made your way down the hallway to where the maid had shown you the bathroom.

As expected, your trip there was uneventful. It was on the way back, however, that a flash of movement on the stairway caught your eye. Leaning forward onto the railing, you squinted into the darkness.

Below you, a boy with a rich, honey colored head of hair, was slinking down the steps. He had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled halfway onto his head, the drawstrings knotted together, and a backpack over one shoulder.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he caught you staring. He had stopped, rather suddenly, in his tracks and peered up at you. You were able to see his full face now, and everything about his features were utterly adorable- but his eyes told another story.

He held your gaze intensely, his expression stony as he slowly brought his hand up and pressed a finger to his lips.

You felt the static from your sweater send your flyaway hairs straight up as you pulled it over your head. According to the maid who had woken you up, it was currently seven AM. You weren’t very eager to get out of bed at first, but she had also mentioned that breakfast ends at eight thirty, and that did the trick. Within ten minutes, you were bounding down the stairs towards the dining room.

Upon entry, Jin smiled in your direction, “Good morning!” The room was rather small, which seemed to be a recurring theme in the Twilight Zone. You stepped towards one of the three open chairs, very aware of all the eyes glued to your profile. The table made for a tight fit and left just enough space to pull out your chair, which happened to be beside Namjoon.

“Good morning, everyone.” You greeted, initially directing your gaze at Jin.

“Eggs and toast for breakfast,” Namjoon motioned to the dish in front of you, which had been piled high with food, “I made you a plate. I didn’t want the boys to eat it all before you got here.”

You chuckled at this, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did.” He laughed, dimples deepening, “I’m serious, there wouldn’t be anything left. They’re animals.”

“He’s not wrong.” Someone piped up, giggling at himself. After glancing around, you were able to match the voice to the boy sitting directly across from you. He had a slim face and a contagious smile. He took a bite out of his toast, dropping it on the plate to extend a hand in your direction. “Hoseok.”

You accepted, his hand grasping yours firmly as he shook it up and down. “Pleased to meet you, Hoseok. I like your hair.” You said, throwing in a compliment as you didn’t really know that else to say.

“Thanks!” He seemed genuinely thrilled by your flattery, grinning as he reached up to pull at a lock of his soft pink hair, which was accented with pale blue streaks. “It can get pretty boring around here. We dye our hair to fill the time.”

“We should dye your hair, Y/N.” Jimin suggested. The neck of his turtleneck sweater was pulled up all the way to his jawline, sleeves hanging to his knuckles. He had already finished his breakfast and was leaning back onto his chair comfortably.

You pursed your lips for a moment as your contemplated the idea, “Sure, why not?”

With that, the boys had burst into conversation. Hoseok began listing off colors that would suit you, Jin cutting in to comment on how fun it’s going to be to have a girl in the house. You were silently observing their interactions, when a familiar sensation crept up inside you.

Upon instinct, you turned to meet the pair of eyes that were burning into your side, setting your fork down on the table. Your eyes met those of the only boy at the table you hadn’t properly met. You smiled softly at him, “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name yet?”

He cocked his head to the side, his gaze rather unfriendly at first glance. Almost immediately you began to feel much too seen. Your stomach turned, and you squirmed in your seat uncomfortably.

When he finally spoke, the dialogue around you came to a halt. “That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” His voice was low, a touch of- amusement, maybe?-in his otherwise inexpressive tone. Your smile was threatening to fall right off your face, having become uneasy and rather downturned.

“Oh come on, go easy on her.” Namjoon placed a hand on your shoulder, offering a feeling of security. He waved in the direction of the dark eyed boy, “This is Yoongi. Don’t mind him too much, he just likes to pick on us.”

Yoongi impaled a chunk of eggs with his fork, no longer looking at you, but Namjoon instead. You felt relief wash over you at this. “What? Am I supposed to treat her differently because she’s a girl?”

“No, you should just be nice to everyone. Girl, boy, whoever.” Hoseok opinionated with a sigh.

“Well that’s just unrealistic.” Jin jumped in, “You should’ve seen him last week when he missed breakfast,” He recalled, shaking his head as he laughed at the memory, “No one saved him any food and-”

With a bang, the kitchen door swung open. An older maid stepped out, shoulders back and chin high, and cleared her throat, “Unfortunately, it’s time for class. Please finish up your meals.”

Jin abandoned his story, groaning childishly. “But I still have so much left!” He whined, lowering his head to his plate. He then proceeded to shovel food into his mouth like his life depended on it.

Namjoon stood and pushed his chair in. He started rounding the table, clapping his hands together, “Let’s go everyone!”

“Coming, Dad.” Hoseok took one last bite of his toast before mirroring Namjoon’s actions. “Are you ready for your first class, Y/N?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m not really sure what to expect.”

The last to get to his feet was Jin, who had rather impressively, had finished the remains of his breakfast. He jogged to your side, and everyone began moving down the hallway. “Well, if Taehyung and Jungkook don’t turn up soon, you should probably expect a scolding from Headmaster.” Jin predicted, many of the boys murmuring in agreement.

“I hate it when Headmaster yells..” Hoseok voiced with a sigh.

You only contemplated their words for a moment or two, trying to pay close attention as you stepped down to a lower level of the house. Namjoon briskly lead the group into a rounded out doorway to your left. As soon as everyone was inside, he slid the two wooden dividers and closed it off behind you.

Mouth slightly agape, you scanned the area. You were quite sure that all the other rooms were as small as they were to accommodate for the classroom. It was by far the biggest area in the house, that you knew of, and was decorated rather differently. Walls, floors, ceilings, and all were made of a creamy, off-white wood. The exterior was lined with bookshelves, crammed with many novels and other miscellaneous items. A gathering of desks occupied the far back, the largest of which was probably meant for an instructor. It had a stereo resting on top of it blaring a news broadcast.

“With more than 400 soldier fatalities in the past few months, the army is requesting another wave of drafts throughout-” Hoseok had made his way across the room, cutting the reporter off mid-sentence as he switched the radio off. You didn’t blame him- everyone was tired of hearing about the war now. It seemed like it would never end, bringing constant death and despair to the nation. You were staring intently at the stereo now, the newscaster’s words on repeat in your brain. For, even this isolated from society, there’s no way to escape your reality.

You spun on your heel, ripped from your thoughts at the sound of the dividers moving. “Sorry, I overslept.” A deep voice was suddenly announcing, “Jungkook didn’t even try to wake me up. So when you think about it, this was sort of his fault.” After a brief scan of the room, the owner of the voice stopped, his tone changing completely the next time he opened his mouth.  “Oh. Headmaster’s not even here yet.”

“Yeah, so don't waste your excuses on us.” Jin said with a laugh.

The newcomer chuckled along sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Where’s that kid, anyway?”

“Jungkook?” Namjoon asked, “He’s not in your guys’ room?”

“No.” The new boy furthered into the classroom, his features demanding your eyes. You watched his eyebrows furrow, hands pulling down at the sleeves of his red jumper. “He wasn't there when I woke up. I figured he went to breakfast.”

Some sort of realization had risen within Namjoon, his concern beginning to show. His eyes were wide, and his complexion even got the slightest bit paler. Namjoon shook his head, massaging his temples with his thumb and pointer. “Please don't tell me he snuck out again last night.”

At his words, a memory was immediately triggered in your mind. You remembered the boy on the stairs, his careful movements as he made his way down each step. -could that be Jungkook?

The new boy’s low voice surprised you time and time again. He replied slowly, eyes flicking around the ceiling, “He, uh.. he may have.”

“Taehyung.” Yoongi snapped, taking a step forward. He seemed to be itching to reprimand the boy, but Namjoon held up a hand dismissively.

It was rather amazing how quickly Yoongi shrunk back at this. Your eyes remained on him for another moment after he stepped back. For a second, just a second, you could’ve sworn that he looked more worried than Namjoon- but he quickly composed himself. The scared expression that you’d seen was soon a ghost.

After exhaling deeply, Namjoon was dissolving the tension in the room, just as quickly as he had created it. He slowed his speech, jaw unclenching, “Well, i guess there’s not much we can do now.” He sighed, “Headmaster will figure out where Jungkook ran off to. If he doesn’t show up on his own, that is.”

“What if Kookie’s is in trouble or something?” Jimin fretted, leaning forward in his chair.

Namjoon took a moment to think about this before replying, “I’m sure he’s fine. I mean, this has happened before.” He concluded, “Let’s focus on class now, it is Y/N’s first time, after all.”

Six faces were suddenly looking in your direction. You offered a closed mouth smile, eyes gliding over each person. You aren’t someone who likes to be the center of attention, especially not in a room full of boys you hardly know. But despite that minor detail, you made an effort to look comfortable.

“You’re Y/N?” The new boy- Taehyung, was it? -had come considerably far into the room upon entrance, and was standing a short distance away from you. He glanced around at his friends, his confused expression meeting many entertained ones. After a moment or so, his stare settled on your profile once more and stayed there.

You reminded yourself to breathe. “Sorry. I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but you all seemed to be having some sort of... crisis.” You said, pairing the sentence with a nervous laugh.

A small draft ran from the front of the room towards the back, the chill creating goosebumps on the back of your neck. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Jimin and Jin share a look, muffling their laughter in their hands. Yoongi rolled his eyes pretty severely, resting his head on his desk.

Taehyung side eyed them, a timid grin settling on his profile. “No, no, don't apologize.” He spoke a bit louder, “I just- No one told me you were, you know.” He motioned to you, looking increasingly more unsure of himself.

“Pretty?” Jin teased, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Taehyung’s cheeks became pinker at this, noticeably so.

Hoseok elbowed Jin in the ribs “A girl, you mean.” He came to Taehyung’s aid.

“Right, a girl- Headmaster failed to mention that part.” He pieced together slowly, gathering himself, “Anyways, I’m Taehyung. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Likewise” You said, actively holding back a laugh. Sliding into the seat of the desk you had been leaning on, you turned away from him. You noted a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, one you badly wanted to disappear.

The dividers slid open yet again- a welcomed distraction. Everyone looked, eyes full of hope, but none of them seemed all that surprised to see that it wasn't Jungkook in the doorway at all.

As the old man strode to the back of the room, your eyes followed the familiar wrinkles that decorated his aged profile. Headmaster Lee was ancient, but even you knew that he doesn't carry himself that way. He is intelligent, and in this house, at least, he is powerful.

“Headmaster-”

“Sit, Namjoon.” Headmaster waved away the purple haired boy, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth setting in a tired smile. From what you had gathered, he was a very warm, friendly man. However, something was very intimidating about him when he's serious and you could tell the boys felt this as well.

You watched Namjoon slump back into his chair, mouth closing slowly. Headmaster Lee stared at all of you, almost all at once. It was as if the air had been taken from the room. No one uttered a word for several moments- they were waiting for him to speak again, and you followed their example.

“As i'm sure you all know, Jungkook is MIA… yet again.” Headmaster Lee said, his small grin fading away. “If any of you have information on his whereabouts, please tell me now.”

Still, silence.

The man sighed, continuing with, “Very well, then. Finish your book work from last week, I expect it to be done before class is over.” His gaze met yours, “Except you, Y/N. Would you mind coming with me?”

You nodded your head mechanically, glancing back at Namjoon as you did so. The boy offered nothing back but a blank stare. “Not at all, uh, sir.”

Headmaster Lee gave the boys one more look before turning and walking back towards the door. You scrambled to your feet, trying your best to keep up with the man’s long strides.

You felt rather small in the seat across from Headmaster Lee’s desk. It was plush and lined with a soft material that was practically hugging you.

The office was plentiful with wall hangings and books and folders, which were piled high in every corner. One couldn't look at a shelf or table without finding knick knacks or newspaper clippings scattered about. It was cluttered, terribly so, but somehow that made it a bit more comfortable.

For the past few minutes, Headmaster had been scribbling on a form on his desk. Now, his eyes rested on you, sending a feeling of reminiscence coursing through you. Your mind travelled back to the day he first told you about this place. An image of him, across from you and your parents at your favorite diner came to mind.

You picked at the peeling leather booth, barely paying your waffles any mind.

The man was speaking casually with your parents, any passerby wouldn't look twice, but the four of you could practically see the heavy intensity of this situation.

“Our home, it’s for kids just like Y/N.” He explained, “She needs to learn to control her gift. You've witnessed first hand how.. dangerous she can be.”

Your mom reached down, lacing her fingers with yours reassuringly. You weren't looking at them anymore, but you felt all their eyes on you.

There was a pang of hurt in your heart at the memory. You flexed your fingers, longing for your mother’s touch.

“I must apologize, Y/N,” He finally spoke, “I wasn't able to give you the tour of the house myself.”

You shook your head slowly, offering the smallest of smiles, “No, no, that's fine. Namjoon is really nice, he helped me a lot.”

Headmaster nodded lightly, folding his hands on the desk the separated the two of you. “Good, I’m glad you're getting to know your housemates.” His face pulled into a grin, “I realize I had left a few details out here and there, so hopefully nothing came as too much of a surprise.”

“Like how I’m the only girl?” You blurted out before your mind could catch up to your mouth.

You were already on the verge of an apology when Headmaster beat you to it. He chuckled softly, “Right, like that. I can't apologize enough.”

That surprised you, if you were being completely honest. Any coldness you felt towards him was slowly, but surely, dissolving. Only nodding in response, you leaned back onto the chair.

Headmaster didn't wait for you to say anything else on the topic. “Now, has Namjoon talked to you at all about his ability?” Headmaster lowered his chin with interest.

“Aura vision.” You answered. You were curious where this was heading.

The old man nodded softly, “Right, aura vision. It's a beautiful power- but one that can't exactly be perfected. He was gifted with it, and that's as far as it goes.” You hummed in response, “However there are abilities, that require practice.”

You had already caught on. “Like mine.” You finished for him, a bitter taste appearing in your mouth.

“Precisely.” He confirmed with a melancholy smile, “You're quite the firecracker, Y/N. It's important to get yourself under control so that you return to your parents in the right condition.”

You felt hope bubble inside of you at the thought of this. But it was gone as quickly as it had came.

Namjoon’s words were echoing in the back of your mind. They were all day, actually. Only now, you truly listened to them.

He's been in the Twilight Zone for 6 years. He’s been here the longest, but who knows how long the other boys have lived here? 5 years? 4?

The truth was, you may never leave this place.

You held Headmaster Lee’s stare with great purpose- because you knew this simple fact, and so did he.

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#this fic is my desperate attempt to hold onto spring day era haghjdfbheg #but anyway !!! i hope someone out there enjoyed this. at least a little. #bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts scenerios #bts scenerio #bts au #bts reactions #taehyung #yoongi #namjoon #hoseok #jungkook #jimin #seokjin #taehyung scenario #yoongi scenario #namjoon scenario #hoseok scenario #jimin scenario #seokjin scenario #jin #jhope #rm #suga #jungkook scenario #bangtan fanfic #bts fanfiction

[roxydrawskhstuffs]

CHAPTER 3

The three stopped by at a clothing store called “Tuxedos and Sailors”. A very unique name for a store who sells clothes but who were they judge? Stepping inside the store they were greeted by cheerful sales clerk. Their smiles were very bright blinding anyone with their happy atmosphere. Vanitas shielded himself, saying it was too bright for his eyes. Ventus chuckled enjoying his boyfriend’s miserable state. He wrapped his arms around the raven and dragging him along towards the deeper parts. Riku on the other hand, was been left out. Confused and clueless on where the heck should he go.

Trying to look like he belong, Riku slowly wandered to each sections and trying not to embarrassed himself. The two lovebirds have totally forgotten about him. Again. He was in the tie section checking out the ties that almost look identical with their form (even some designs were the same but had diff color mixes) when a union of females said a “Welcome!” to him. He turned to see two identical females with the same hair length and hair color.

Twins perhaps? The only difference was that the other had dark clothing and the other one had light. He was getting confused until he saw the name tags on each twins. Elda and Freya. Freya with the dark clothes while Elda with light ones. They were much younger than he is. Too young to even work in a legal store but decided not to question any longer.

“Do you have any style that you have in mind?” they say in unison. Waiting for Riku’s answer. “Uh… yeah, actually my friends left me so I have no idea how to shop for clothes but do you have in mind what’s a good dress for a ‘press conference’? Not too formal and not too casual as well,” babbling incoherent words making his situation much more difficult. The twins moved their heads to the right, confused as well. Damn it, he was making it harder for the girls. “Please just help me out.” He pleaded and tried the pretty boy helpless cute pose (he could swear there were flowers blooming at the background, the sparkling screen effect in cam) and prayed this will not flopped.

Unfortunately it did. But the twins just nodded. “We didn’t understand you mister but I am sure Elda and Freya can help,” replied the Freya girl. Elda grabbed the silver-haired towards the fitting room. Pushing him inside, Elda and Freya told Riku not to leave. “Elda will get something that is not ‘too casual’.” and left. Freya just stared at Riku immensely making the silver-haired felt awkward. “Uh…is there something on my face?” Dumbly asked the blonde girl. Freya shook her head. “Freya just remembered a person who look just like you. Freya remembers he was a game character.” She must be talking about Yozora. Amused that normal people knew the game.

The game really was popular for normal women know its characters. It’s also a good thing that less people knew his face even if he had been featured in a lot of game-related articles from geek magazines.

A few minutes came and there was a hand inside the fitting room with clothes hanging. He heard one of the twin’s voice which he assumes was Elda with the clothes. “Please put this on, sir and after that you can go outside and Elda and Freya will check if it will suit your features.” Being clueless, Riku just took the pile of clothes putting them piece by piece. He then heard Ventus and Vanitas calling out to him. “In here!” he replied, hoping they find him.

The twins must’ve saw them guiding the two to which fitting room he was in. Vanitas scolded his boyfriend for dragging him deeper, forgotten that they had another companion with them. “I already told you, I’m sorry for leaving Riku behind. I really do.” Ventus says his voice soft and could diminish the he was really sincere. Riku just heard his raven roommate scowled. “You’re lucky, you’re cute and has a taste of fashion. Would totally rock the gathering with these clothes.”

“Hey, I’m still here so shut your bickering or so help me God.” he was almost done buttoning the pants. After that, he moved the curtains(blinds) to show himself. Riku was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved blouse with checkered white and dark blue the folder collar, a black hoodie-like coat and fitted dark blue slacks to compliment the blouse. Vanitas whistled whiles Ventus was staring at him, his eyes sparkles with amazement. Vanitas was the first to comment.

“Nope. The hood needs to go and it's out of place. You’re going to be the laughing stock, Reeks.

Get. Rid. Of. It.” Ventus put his hand on his chin, examining the silver-haired. He also nodded which an equivalent of him agreeing to whatever choice Vanitas had. “Ughhh.” Riku groaned going back inside the fitting room. Elda then hurried towards the aisles in pursuit of another piece while Freya took the taken off clothes from Riku.

This was going to be a long long day.

A few “nope”, “that’s horrible”, “that won’t even do” (seriously! Would you just fucking decide?!) from the two lovers. They finally got the perfect fashion for Riku. And at the nick of two hours before the gathering starts. Ventus had to part ways saying that he also had commitment to be going to. The raven just raised an eyebrow, not amused at his boyfriend’s said. The blonde chuckled kissing Vanitas onto the cheeks for reassurance parting words of “You’ll be surprised.”

The two entered their respective rooms to get their personal bathroom. Thank god that they had persuaded the landlady to approve of their proposal since they were famous and the two agree that they will never want to share a bathroom with some strangers, even if they were living in the same goddamn apartment. With a power of persuasion and additional fees, the landlady agrees anyway.

Riku hums curious about whatever the meaning to Ventus’s words. Looking at the mirror, Riku started styling his mane. Bottles of hairspray and loose hair strands scattered on the bathroom floor trying to get the perfect look that Vanitas suggested to him. Saying that it would ‘kill all of the ladies’ which he didn’t really mind. At all but decided to just go with for the satisfaction.

Riku went to a look where his shoulder-length hair was always in a high-ponytail style ever since he noticed it was getting longer. Riku was lazy to go to a hair salon to get a haircut or more like he was sentimental to it.

Vanitas suggested to brush up his bangs, where his eyes could stand out than being hidden in his silver locks. His aquamarine eyes now visible. Next in his advice was to go for the braids (tip: just do a loose braid man, maybe three or four then make it look like a princess braid but don’t overdo it or you’ll definitely be called a princess) his phone hang in a towel rocket, a video of how to braid was playing in the background and finally add some waves and volume into it. With his hair finished and looked like the same in the video comes the last part: clothes.

Normally, Riku is fine and can definitely finishing changing in a flash. But he didn’t want to ruin his hair. That was a pain in the ass, he thought and he did not want to fix it for the nth of his life. Looking at the clock, it was almost six thirty. He had little time left.

Putting the inner shirt first, Riku carefully put the grey long-sleeve shirt then the patterned black-blue vest. Checking the mirror, he was almost done with his transformation when there was a knock he heard on his door.

Vanitas.

“Hey! It’s almost time. Are you done yet? Get downstairs at fifteen minutes. Uber’s almost here.” Announced Vanitas. Riku needed to pick up his pace. Pants already set and fixing his cuffs. One last part was the velvet coat for the finishing touches. Making everything is smooth, Riku look-over himself in the mirror. “Wow.” he says wasn’t even sure if he was him in the reflection but shrugged it. He grabbed his expensive rolex in the nightstand making his way downstairs.

He was just in time and a black Volkswagen Santana GTS just parked at the apartment’s front. The raven turned towards Riku and the silver-haired just lost his voice.

He knew Vanitas was hot in not “I’d fuck my best friend” kind of hot. The two respects each other and will never ever commit in a relationship. The white overall suit of was stunning making his mop of black hair stand out. Of course the signature ‘x’ belts hanging loosely on belt holes, and his eyeliner was even on-point. A cat-like eyes like Vanitas that Riku sometimes envy.

Vanitas smirked. “Motherfucker. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Riku just rolled his shoving the raven inside the car. When the two were comfortable at the back of the car, the raven grabbed Riku’s shoulders closing to his, his phone ready to take a photo of the two of them.

vanitas the asshole master @vanitsktsktsk

me and Vanitas going 2 prom! jk we gonna go to @verumrex’s presscon. @tenebraeriku looks so fab and gorgeous. how? im going gei lmao.

#verumrex #vanreeks #luvyahbitches

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#fanfics #kh #kingdom hearts #soriku #chapter 3 #will update this with the arts im so tired lmao