#i can fix it tomorrow if it’s being weird or just put it on youtube or something

[keefwho]

March 11 - 2024 Monday

11:02pm

6.5/10

This morning I woke up with tummy troubles. I still went through with shaving my legs/face so that I can be super groomed for tomorrow's haircut. A decent amount of time was spent in the bathroom this morning, probably on account of the pizza and ramen I ate yesterday combined with some drinking. All I could eat for breakfast was a soup in the box.

I started work late and skipped warmups. I just worked on the current commission today. After work I did half my usual treadmill workout which was fine considering how little I'd eaten and how I still felt. I read the chapter on Acceptance in my ACT book again while walking. I took some time to bake myself in the shower and watch a little youtube. For lunch I made stew but I didn't brown it enough and added too many potatoes/water so it came out kinda bland and in large quantity but I ate it all anyways. I was SUPER full. The coke I had after hit hard because I really just needed water. I hung out in Bramble's server during work but wasn't really in a big social mood. I'm still glad I hung out there even if I wasn't really clicking with anyone at that moment. I left after doing today's request, working on a pic of Adora for an hour, and doing a little bit of Plaz's world. I updated him letting him know it is still happening just very slowly.

I took some time to just chill after work. I watching a very fascinating Cities Skylines 2 detailing video and then tried meditating on defusion for a little bit. I was doing the leaves on a stream exercise while laying my head in my arms and listening to water ambience. I was realizing the traditional version of the exercise where the leaves float downstream give me the impression that I'm meant to be getting rid of thoughts by putting them in the river. But defusion is never about deleting thoughts, its about seeing them as just thoughts. So I did a slightly different version where I imagined myself on a bridge above a still pond with every thought I had being represented by a leaf falling into the water but otherwise staying there. I gotta say I wasn't very successful in defusion "clicking" with me today but I knew it helped to try anyways.

I joined Daisy in Just Dance and SLAYED today. I did much better than usual and maybe it's because I was moreso having fun letting my motions be fluid rather than trying too hard to copy the moves and compensate for mistakes. Also changed my profile to a DOG but I might put it back to Hoss Delgado.

After her shower she read me a Monster High chapter in bed. I made another custom Connections puzzle for her to solve today thinking it was good but it was actually too hard for her. I think the terms I used were too generic to pinpoint any right off the bat which is usually a trait of a good puzzle. She did really well with today's actual connections and wordle though. Then I played a good amount of Kingdom Hearts 2 for her and did the whole Traverse Town tournament bit.

~~~

Today I was meant to be thinking about the topic of acceptance again. It's weird because the whole chapter covers specific kinds of trauma that I don't identify with but someone I know does. It makes me wish I could somehow use this knowledge and the understanding I do have to help out somehow. Not that I'm out here trying to magically fix something so complicated but I think I understand some of the topic and thats a good thing. Other than that, I think I did a decent job keeping myself on track today and accepting tonight for what it was. I understand that I can tend to reject good times simply because they make me think of the potential abandonment that will seemingly nullify it all. While that could happen, nothing would be "null" if it did. And it's much better and more helpful to be hopeful that everything will turn out okay in the end. I know it's not smart to be blinded by positivity but I do need to push myself from having a negative view of things to at least neutral. It'll help me appreciate the good things in my life while they're happening more often. It'll build me up.

3 things that made me happy today:

Watching otter stream with Bramble and friends during work.

Doing good in Just Dance.

Getting lost in Kingdom Hearts 2 for Daisy.

#journal #diary

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

11.8.23 Wednesday

1:39 am

Whew... I feel bitter... I feel fat and ugly and wrinkled...

2:25 am

Resting then will shower...

I accidentally saw this on youtube of course... It is just weird... I sense something a force from a girl which scares me so much...

This version... It makes my heart cry...

This one I also want but whew....Argh....I need money and job...

2:59 am

I really like Borgy that body and his pouting cute lips...

4:12 am

I still have windblow...Done,showering can't sleep... Still, thinking of money and job and I wanna get progress... I feel defeated for 16 years.

I lost attention in a way coz one main factor my biological mother is fake... Can't even see my old fucking friends.... I lost friends and life. I don't like anybody here anymore in Cavite since that bullshit thingy happened to me when that dread-locks guy or Miles stabbed me to death...

Still, I want to transfer in ilocos coz it is my pride... They smash me here since 2007! I really wanna see sand-dunes in ilocos and some plastics rocks and pebbles....

I have a question here? Am I tomboy? Nope! I'm bisexual but it is difficult for me to like a girl.

Lesbian-- they are difficult to get, they don't trust new women right away! They are competitive! We are careful...

I wanna leave this place...

9:23 am

I have windblow... Uncle DD suddenly called while my senses is half-awake and asleep and I think I was dreaming of Borgy that my soul is flying with him... Oh! Flesh craving... 16 years without SEX... My mental room in my head are so many thoughts...

Uncle DD said tomorrow they will go here to fix something their new house and bring food and share whatever pay bills... I hope I can ask for money coz I need money, I don't have a job I feel frustrated... I need to get a job,in a lil while...

Yeah... Yeah... I had have sexual craving... The body and face and lips of Borgy is appearing in my dream... Whenever my soul flies I suddenly feel the slimy thing down there... It is my chemical, angels... I feel the frustration and madness within me...

You appear in my dream this morning that pouting lips is somewhere down the hill... It is so weird this am... But it is something good and give a peace in me... Something I want and I miss... Something that makes me feel loved....

Subconscious is on Borgy?or windblow cryptic??? or windblow mental motivation???

So, weird but it is good in my dream... Anyways, I wanna leave Cavite 16 years is too much....Too much for making me nothing and not happy... In my dream I want you Borgy, all of your whatever slimy thing you have...

9:47 am

Give me some peace of mind ... You are in my dream Borgy, frustration... My chemical frustration on YOU.

10:42 am

Whew! Force... Energy... Ignition... Fire...LOVE!

10:58 am

3:35 pm

Why those fucking INC and DJ' s are organized on their sex society organization on Eagle FM , here in Cavite and they planned to rule the world...

I'm so fucking jealous of their SEX since 2007... I don't like them here in Cavite!

I want Borgy to give this kind of "Till Murder Do Us part" theme here in Cavite...

I want some blood here in Cavite...

8:19 pm

I still have windblow... I feel fat,ugly and wrinkled....

As always -- I FEEL JEALOUS ON THINGS THAT I DON'T KNOW...

I feel intimidated on things behind me that I feel or sense an unfairness....

I feel self-pity for being flatten this way and aging for nothing. Thinking of money and my job and I really wanna remove "the deep smile lines" that I have... I hate that I can't do tambay2x even ìn starbucks or hang-out in STARBUCKS. I feel hurt... I'm out of fundings... I need money and job angels...

I'm so decided to transfer in ilocos, I wanna dance on sand-dunes though there are some plastics rocks and pebbles.

I wanna transfer in ilocos, I wanna have a peace of mind... It will be my decision until the end, or until my last breath here though in reality in God's name, it is unfair to die this way literally to be put on 6 feet underground. They just killed me without allowing me to fight fairly.

I feel bitter and I wanna get Borgy I really have mental hunger on him... I have windblow.. I wanna see Borgy's penis! I WANNA SEE BORGY'S PENIS! I really wanna touch that Penis!

11:05 pm

It is 8th today,in a lil while it will pass US by... I still adore YOU Borgy...

#Youtube

[dzpenumbra]

11/19/22

Today was a mixed bag. I woke up super early. I put that post up on here, YouTube was giving me really fucked up ads today. It really put me in a shit mood. I was seriously just looking up the history and tradition of Zen Gardens so I could get some inspiration for one I am planning on building in Minecraft. Let's get into this because it's pretty cool, then I really gotta go to bed because I'm still trying to fix my sleep schedule and it's already 2... which is huge improvement but... I'm really tired and the stage is set perfectly to fix my sleep right now.

So I watched a video on YouTube from this woman who did some videos about PTSD stuff that were really helpful to me. It had diaphragmic breathing and grounding stuff, and then focused on really building a mental safe place. A place where I know for a fact what safety and security feels like, so I can go there in my mind when I'm getting ready for sleep. It's an idea I've been brewing for a while, but I've really been struggling to get a mental image. See, I can be a bit... third eye blind? Nope, looked that up and that's definitely not it, but now I know what that means. Ugh... XD I meant I can't see things in my mind's eye sometimes. Very different! Which might be why I was really attracted to art. So in this safe place exercise, I was really struggling to get a detailed mental image of the location - a fictional Zen garden in my head that I never got to build. Either IRL, in a drawing or... in Minecraft. And I got inspired.

I figured I can actually make the place in Minecraft, in Chisels and Bits or something. Little Tiles, I guess, is a bit of a better mod overall, I've just not spent time with it yet. Welp... that's why I was googling Zen gardens this morning. Because I wanted to build that Zen garden. To make an actual model that I can visit whenever I want as reference material for my inner safe place.

I went skating, it was nice. I loosened my trucks and it wasn't too much of an adjustment. I was worried about pivots or manuals being weird, but they were fine. It was super cold but it was good. Hit the grocery store, settled in and went to study tarot for a bit. I got a TON out of my reading today, but I don't wanna get into it really. It's a lot of the stuff I've been talking about with social anxiety and bad relationships and stuff, and it just made perfect sense and helped me get a bit of clarity. Then therapy right after, which was great. I even have an audiobook to listen to when I do work now. Great to talk to someone on my level, very validating and reassuring. Then I made dinner for Max and I and went in and tried out Minecraft.

I tried a "Feed the Beast" builders pack or something. I don't know. There's a lot of mods in it. I mean a lot. So it'll keep me busy, sure. But there are just like... vanilla graphics. No shaders or anything. Which kinda brings the ambience down unfortunately. Maybe I can troubleshoot that tomorrow. I cruised and tried to find a place to settle in. I found a fir forest that was calling me. I set up camp, got iron for a bucket and scoped an area at the base of the hill that looked nice, had a nice view of the nearby river too. My only qualm was... I didn't want to mess up the scenery at all. I wanted this garden to be like... amplified organic. Like everything is just an embellished version of what organically formed. So I filled in the area at the base of the trees with water, then outlined the tree trunks with dirt and just... called it for the night. I was kicking my own ass about music.

I haven't been able to make myself make music. It's really frustrating me. I just... don't have a process anymore, I don't know where to start. So today I just plugged in a simple drum beat and tried to play drums along with it, and I just couldn't get in the pocket. It was really frustrating. I played along to a MrSuicideSheep mix to just... clear my pallet and get back into the groove, and finally got there. I was just off today. And music just didn't happen.

So... skating was good. Tarot was very good, 3 new card definitions in my study. Minecraft was started, kinda... but halted abruptly. Music was a bust. I kinda wish I had stayed with Minecraft and not considered it "wasting time I could be spending on creative things". Ugh. I just put a bad tone on the end of the day, overshadowed my accomplishments.

But now I have a vague idea of what the terrain looks like in my garden. Very vague but more than nothing. I'm going to try to use it in making a mental image safe place right now when I go to bed. I'm pretty excited for it. It's this weird idea of like... I can imagine changes I want to make to the place before I go to bed, then I can go there in my dreams maybe, then I can go and actually make changes in Minecraft the next day, too. It's a pretty weird art piece concept, but I like it a lot!

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

[blackbat05]

Lone Wolf

Shangqi x Reader (University AU)

A/N: Before my Christmas piece comes out, I thought why not another University AU piece? This just comes strongly from my heart, that's all I can say. I also think that maybe because it's raining, hence it's making me more sentimental? Enjoy and all feedback is always appreciated!🙏🏼

Genre: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Use of Y/N, it’s just a comfort fic really.

Also yes, I got inspired by his look at the Spidey premier because I can definitely see this look as a college look👀. FIGHT ME.

***

'Shoot, I gotta go. See you tomorrow!' Your classmate gives you a wave, disappearing into the sea of students.

You finally put the smile away, massaging your cheeks. Picking up your belongings, you decided to head home too. Maybe it was the after-effects of finishing a dreaded presentation. Or completing a paper that had a ridiculous word count.

Or it was simply just the exhaustion creeping in.

It wasn't a run-of-the-mill story where you had terrible classmates - you were treated well. They saw you as your own and didn't milk you dry, leaving you to shrivel up in doubt. You swore that would not happen anymore.

But why did you feel so empty?

Walking to the escalators that would take you to the underpass that led to the train station, you put your favorite song on repeat.

Repetition that gave you comfort in a world of chaos.

You couldn't wait to be back home and grab your usual cup of boba from the nearby boba shop. Yes, you were easily satisfied - but that's how one survives in a complicated world right?

Grateful for the cool breeze such that you didn't have to remove your jacket, you increased the volume, getting lost in your thoughts.

What sugar level should I get for my peach milk tea? Golden bubbles this time? That ramen looked really delicious on youtube, maybe I'll have it for dinner tonight.

A tap on your shoulder tells you to put a stop to your fantasies for dinner. You're met with a pair of two familiar faces.

'Shangqi! Katy! You guys haven't left school yet?'

'Nah, dumbass over here forgot that he had an ethics paper to submit so he was rushing to submit it on time. Barely made it to the office, you should have seen Professor Lee's face!' Katy snickered, slapping the back of her long-time friend who did not look as amused as Katy made the situation to be.

'What about you Y/N? It's almost seven.' He attempts to divert the conversation away from being an inch away from retaking the business ethics module.

'Just finished my end course assessment. Talking with a classmate. Lost track of time.'

'Did you have dinner yet? Katy and I are going to the nearby mall to grab Chinese.'

Katy jerks her head up from her phone so fast that you were concerned about her getting backlash. 'Dinner? Did someone say dinner? Your paying you know that right?'

'Come one,' the man groans. 'I paid for pizza last week!'

'Yeah, because you lost the bet. And this is for making me wait for you. Not my fault that you have bad time management skills.' Katy wags her finger in his way. She notices that you were still with them, watching the interesting verbal sparring match. 'Join us Y/N! Free meals from yours truly.'

You laughed at her antics. For someone who never felt truly connected with others, you were always comfortable around the duo. It was weird and you couldn't put it into words, but knowing them felt... genuine.

'You sure? I wouldn't want to burn a hole in his pocket.' Even you were surprised as to where your sudden confidence to join in on the banter came from.

'Nonsense! More the merrier! Oh, and I've always wanted to ask you about that boba you were always having.'

'You like boba too?'

'Are you kidding?' Katy pretends to gasp. 'Me and bro over here, we're like boba addicts. Gotta get that sugar fix if you know what I mean.' She links her arm with yours, moving ahead of Shangqi as the three of you walked to the station.

For the first time in a while, you didn't have to walk this path alone.

***

'That's insane!' You couldn't help but wipe the tears at the corner of your eyes after Katy tells you yet another hilarious story of Shangqi's college life.

'Yeah! I can't believe that thanks to a faulty door, the dean saw him taking a shit!' Katy bursts into loud guffaws, staggering a few steps forward. Let's just say that after that excellent Chinese dinner, consisting of fried rice and sweet and sour pork, there was a unanimous decision to celebrate the end of 'hell week' with alcohol.

'I should really revoke your friendship privileges if I knew you had this much leverage on me.' Shangqi attempts to threaten her but fails miserably. 'We're here Katy!' You find yourself at the doorsteps of a three-story red brick building.

'My place!' She waves her arms in the air clumsily. 'Thanks for today!' As she staggers into the building, Katy turns back, as if remembering that she had forgotten to tell you something.

'Let's make this a thing yeah? Hang out more often!' And with a whoop, her ponytail disappears behind the door, leaving the two of you to continue on the journey.

With Katy and her signature bubbliness absent, you felt more conscious of yourself. Not that he was mean or anything. In fact, he was the nicest guy you knew. You didn't want to mess up his impression of you despite knowing each other for four semesters.

'Thanks... for today. And for walking with me too.' You quickly added the last sentence to fill the silence. He gives you a warm smile. 'Don't mention it.'

As you walk under the bright lights that were hung up for Christmas, you quietly observed the man next to you. His red bomber jacket. His white sneakers. The thick-framed glasses that sat nicely on his nose, bringing out his eyes.

Had he not approached you, you would have thought of him as one of the popular ones. Always so friendly, so outgoing and not to mention, incredibly talented. At that point in time, he felt like a different world.

'Hiya.' You looked up from your planner to see a guy and a girl staring back down at you. 'Mind if we join you? We need one more person and Katy told me that she's seen you in psychology class before. We could use some insight for that.' Shangqi grins at you, hoping that you weren't too intimidated by their presence.

'Sure, I don't really know anyone too.' You invited them to take a seat, turning back to your planner. Shangqi looks at Katy who only nods.

'I'm Shangqi and my friend over here is Katy.' He extends a hand - a non-intrusive method to introduce oneself.

'Y/N.' You take it, positive that you would go your separate ways upon completing this elective class.

'What's on your mind?' The two of you made a left turn, walking down the pavement.

'Not much. I just really enjoyed today.' You were being truthful. Shangqi senses that you had more to say despite your previous words. So he waits.

'It's silly - me being sentimental and all,' you tried to be dismissive about it, hoping that Shangqi wouldn't look at you weirdly after this. 'I never really felt that I belonged you know? Sure, I always had people around me, but I always craved for something that could connect... anchor me to others. I wanted a reason to preserve these connections. But as time went by...' You breathed heavily, controlling the feelings that were starting to cloud your thoughts.

'I wondered if I was always meant to be alone.'

Shangqi doesn't say anything. He wants to wait for you to finish.

'I'm sorry for killing the vibe.' You tried to laugh it off, focusing your attention on a bakery with Christmas-themed cakes that you had just walked by. You mentally noted that you would make a trip down here first thing in the morning.

'Don't be. Don't mind me saying this but I agree with you too.' You look at him in surprise.

'I was alone in the beginning. No friends. It was Katy who approached me first. Even then, I was still suspicious if she wanted something else.' He smiles fondly at the old memory. Little did he know that the boisterous girl who defended him from bullies in the most unorthodox way would be his closest friend. Life was pretty funny.

'The thing is, I know that it sounds easier putting up walls so that people can't hurt you first,' Shangqi finds himself speaking from experience. 'But somewhere out there, there will always be someone who will be with you and accept you for who you are. Right down to your little quirks. You just need that one person.'

Shoving your hands into your jacket, you knew that Shangqi had a point. But you also knew that genuine individuals didn’t come by easy. Maybe it was the responsibilities you had to shoulder because you had placed friendships at the back of your to-do list.

Shangqi scratches the back of his neck, unsure of what he was going to do next. But he had to try.

'So um... Katy can't make it next week. Archery practice. Do you want to check out the fried chicken joint then? And we can have boba then. I heard their peach milk tea is to die for.'

You blink, trying to register what he was trying to ask you. Shangqi must have noticed the silence as he hurriedly explains, 'It's not a date or anything! I mean it's just the usual weekly hangouts... to chill and ya know... relax. You don't have to if you don't want to!'

You found it adorable as the bespectacled male was blushing and stumbling his way through his speech, blush creeping upon his cheeks.

'Shangqi, I would love to.'

'I mean- wait, really? I mean are you sure.' He barely gathers his composure as the two of you reached your house.

'Yes, I'm positive. Besides, it's nice to spend my Fridays with friends.'

He smiles, wider this time along with you. 'Right! I'll wait for you at the escalators then. Same time!' Without thinking, he gives you a hug before putting up his hoodie. You tried not to think about it, but Shangqi left behind a musky scent on your own jacket. One that you wanted it to linger for a while more.

'See you around in school Y/N!'

Waving goodbye, you watched him continue his journey, noticing a little spring in his step. Likewise, your heart had felt much lighter than usual. A feeling that you welcomed with open arms.

Sure, you had a hectic week, balancing responsibilities and trying to keep ahead of life in general. But after today, you realized that you didn't have to take on the world alone, you didn't have to be a lone wolf.

Of course, not everyone could be as jovial as Katy. But perhaps he was right. You didn't have to be so guarded all the time. All you had to do, was to let the right people in.

And maybe, you had just found the right people.

***

A/N: Like I said, I think I just need constant reminders that there will always be people who support me. And I hope this fic would also remind you of the same thing as well whenever you may be facing difficult times!💕

#xu shangqi #xu shangchi #xu shangqi x reader fluff #xu shangqi x reader #shang chi x reader #shangqi x reader #shangqi x reader fluff #shang chi x reader fluff #katy shang chi #xu shangchi x reader fluff

[stutterfly]

Tricks of the Trade | MYG (M)

Shared as part of the Similarly Sequestered game with @kpopfanfictrash​, @underthejoon​, @fortunexkookie​, @gukslut​ and me!

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 24.1K Prompt: “The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences.” {Body Swap AU, Soulmates AU}

Genre: Fluff, humor, smut, oneshot

Summary: The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

CW & Other Tags: Anxiety attacks, language, oral sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, Agent of Chaos Jin, shopkeeper Yoongi, idiots to lovers, frenemies to lovers, bodyswap shenanigans

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Posted on June 23, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to this or any other platform, including YouTube.

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The bell at the top of the door jingles as another customer walks into the store, but you pay them no mind. You’re already scanning the refrigerated drinks section for the third time, scouring the rows of cans and bottles for your beverage of choice. There’s only one kind of energy drink you want but its usual location is barren. Desperate to find what you’re searching for, you squat down to look behind the other drinks in the fridge.

“You’re not going to find any.”

The familiar, disinterested drawl of the shopkeeper has you popping up from the floor to look over at him. He wears a green apron over a black tee and a pair of faded jeans. His back is to you so he doesn’t have to see your face when you complain. He reaches up to take off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through thick locks of ebony hair before returning the cap to his head. He spares a glance over his shoulder at you, knowing you’re watching him. He sighs loudly as he continues to stock nearby shelves with boxes of cereal.

When he opened this tiny shop across from your apartment about a year ago, you thought he was cute, but he’s always seemed cold to you. The gossips around town say he’s a bit scrawny, monotone and boorish, but you like his voice and you like his style. He must be intelligent if he started this business from nothing, especially at his age. Not many people in their late twenties can say they are as independent as Yoongi.

He has confidence and pride in his values. You’ve seen him tell rude people off without a second thought and kick people out for being racist towards other customers. He puts on a front to seem unapproachable but you’ve seen him give a carton of milk to a mother who didn’t have money to pay for it, and free candy to a group of kids on a rainy day. While he pretends to be an old grump who shuffles around his shop all day, you’ve seen him get the energy to sprint around the block after a shift and then collapse at the cafe tables next door. He’s weird. He’s honest. He’s kind-hearted. It’s easy to admire him.

He bends down to pick up more boxes, and you cock your head to the side to stare at the way his ass looks in those jeans. He’s also insanely attractive. It’s no wonder you still come in here every day.

The more you see of him, the more you feel you know him, and the more you’ve grown to like him. The problem is that your relationship with the shopkeeper has shifted into a weird territory you’re not sure how to escape from. It’s not that you hate each other, but it seems you can’t hold a conversation without getting on each other’s nerves. Either you’re always saying the wrong thing or he’s pressing all the wrong buttons when he teases you.

At first you read his teasing as awkward flirting but for someone so blunt, you’ve convinced yourself he would have been straightforward and said the words out loud. I like you. Let’s get a drink. It would be easy for him to say, wouldn’t it? Despite trying to convince yourself he’s not interested, you can’t help but flirt with him at any opportunity to do so. However, you seem to forget how the moment he looks at you. It’s like your flirting skills took an exit down a shitty highway and now you’ve lost the GPS signal to navigate back to civilization.

Talking with Yoongi has become an ache you can’t seem to give up so you’ll take whatever excuse you can to keep doing so. That usually takes the form of you poking fun at one another until you hurt your own feelings. Sometimes you spend the remainder of a day thinking about the ways you can fix tomorrow’s fictitious conversation. You forgot how being infatuated with someone can make you feel so stupid. He’s not your life, just a part that you wish could be more prominent. It’s fine.

All you have to do is get your morning beverage and pastry before working your shift. Then you can focus on how nice it will feel to do nothing all weekend and catch up on TV shows.

“So…. What did you do with it? Are you hiding them from me today?” You quickly snap your eyes to his face as he twists his body to look up at you.

He scoffs. “Not me. College kids came through last night and cleared them out.”

“But you know I always get one,” you pout, crossing your arms like it’s going to make a difference.

He turns his attention back to his task, slowly stacking the boxes in silence before he clicks his tongue. “So? I can’t just hide stuff for you, you know.”

“Don’t you have more in the back? You’ve never run out of Hot6 before.”

He laughs to himself. “This isn’t a warehouse. I have to wait for product to arrive before I can restock. Just get a Red Bull. It tastes the same.”

You crinkle your nose at him. “It does not.”

He crosses the store with a roll of his eyes and a loud sigh. Before long he’s back at the register and sipping on his iced americano. “Whatever. Why do you care? It’s easier if you develop a taste for espresso. Then you don’t have to worry about that kind of thing. Besides, energy drinks aren’t that great for you, you know.”

You make a sound of disgust as you sulk your way over to the pastry cabinet. “Jeez. Do you always have to have such a stick in your ass? You act like coffee is so much better for you.”

“More caffeine, less sugar. I guarantee you it’s better,” he says with a smack of his lips against his straw.

“Whatever, Grandpa. Hmm... Muffin, muffin, muffin…” you quietly chant to yourself as your eyes rake over the racks in search of your daily pastry fix. Today seems to be against you: no muffins.

“We’re out of those too,” he says. “You know you could stand to change up your routine. Don’t you get sick of getting the same things every day?”

You bite your lip and look over the case of pastries, grabbing a simple croissant. “I like my routine, but I guess I could always stop coming here.”

“If that’s what you want.” He sighs dramatically as he leans over the counter, resting on his elbows as he surveys the store. “Well, I could enjoy a quiet morning for once.”

You roll your eyes.“Pfft. You like to argue, so I know you’d miss me.”

There’s a squeaky laugh from behind one of the shelves and as your attention shifts to the sound, a young man with dusty pink hair pokes his head up. He must be rather tall if he’s able to look over the aisles. You quirk an eyebrow at his strange laughter and wonder what kind of stranger could be so entertained by the pair of you.

“Sorry. It’s just…” He holds up a card that neither of you can really make out at this distance. “On the front it says ‘It’s Your Birthday?’ and inside it says ‘Alpaca my party hat!’. Ha! And there’s this pop-up of the alpaca with a bandana and party hat.” He giggles again as he opens and closes the card a few times and waves his hand. “Sorry. Sorry. You can continue flirting now.”

“This is not—” Your breath catches in your throat and you have to take a moment to swallow down your embarrassment before turning back towards Yoongi. “Can you believe this guy?”

He’s in the middle of taking a bite from a half-eaten muffin when your eyes meet his guilty ones. Your jaw falls open as he slowly chews and rings you up, placing the remainder of the pastry back down on the counter.

“You took the last one?”

“I had a craving.” He shrugs.

“You knew I would want it and you took it so I couldn’t have it,” you guess in a playful tone. “Was your aim to make me suffer double today? You’re so cruel, Yoongi.”

He pauses to poke his tongue against his cheek as he handles your change. “It’s not like I planned it. Don’t make me out to be some bad guy.”

“Bad guy. Tch. No, I wouldn’t go that far.” You lean forward, planting your hands on the counter and ensuring a clear sightline into your shirt. “I think you just like getting under my skin.”

He bristles at your words, taking the bait and dropping his gaze to the lace exposed for his eyes. He licks his lips and lazily lets his eyes drift back to your face, his expression unreadable. “Maybe that’s true.”

You cock your head and smirk as you stand up straight, your ego slightly inflated. “Is it really so hard to be nice to me? I’m nice to you.”

“Hah!” He breaks into an amused grin. “When?”

You’re taken aback by his response. Surely you’ve been obvious with your infatuation up to this point. You scoff. “Wha- All the time!”

His brows furrow and he crosses his arms with the change still trapped in his palm. “So complaining is a form of politeness now? Then I should be grateful for how often you shower me with kindness.”

“You know I do more than complain! I complain because you complain to me!” you pout, pointing your finger at him. “Maybe we could talk about something meaningful if you ever cared enough to ask.”

His eyebrows raise with the pitch of your voice. It’s not a big deal. This is stupid. You’re overreacting because you like him. You know he’s fucking with you so why is your face still getting hot? Even if he’s joking, he’s planted the seed in your mind that he sees you as a grumpy customer. He’s clearly never thought of you as anything but a negative start to his day. You’ve seen him be sweet but right now he feels as bitter and cold as the coffee he drinks.

“What do you think of this?” the pink-haired stranger asks, donning a pair of thick black frames with orange-tinted lenses.

The man cuts the tension from the room for a brief moment. Yoongi stares at him, his lip curled up in disgust as he slowly shakes his head. When his eyes travel back to yours they seem full of apprehension. Your name rolls off his tongue as though it’s an apology.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me. Just give me my change,” you grumble, reaching up for his palm.

His grip is impossible to penetrate. He smiles as you struggle to work your fingers beneath his, shaking his head like you’ve revealed some embarrassing secret. Heat builds in your face the longer you stand there fidgeting with his hand. You feel like a fool.

“You’re obnoxious. Let me count it out first,” Yoongi sneers while trying to pull his hand back.

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes and yank his hand towards you. “I don’t need you to count it.”

“You know what I think you need?”

The other customer leans beside the counter, a new pair of glasses on his face that are twice as hideous as the first pair. As you turn to look at the stranger you can see the pair of you reflected in hues of red and yellow in those disturbingly 90s opaque lenses. It almost looks like you’re holding hands. You stiffen at the sight but keep your fingers locked against Yoongi’s calloused ones as you focus on the pricetag dangling across the man’s nose.

The stranger slowly moves a closed fist above the place where your hand and Yoongi’s meet. He waits a few seconds until you’re both focused on his hand before a flash of silver falls from his palm. You almost mistake the shapes for identical necklaces until they untangle and rotate to reveal two halves that form a heart.

The fluorescent lights of the store highlight the engraved text on each. One says ‘BEST’ while the other half reads ‘FRIENDS’. The faux-metal irritates your neck the moment you think about it touching your skin. The chains appear fragile and cheap, like they might break at the slightest amount of tension. If this guy thinks you’re going to take these he must be delusional.

You exchange a quizzical look with Yoongi as the necklaces dangle between you. He’s distracted enough that you’re able to pry your change from his sweaty palm.

“Uh. No thanks,” you say, shoving the coins in your pocket before grabbing your croissant. You take a moment to regard Yoongi with a scowl, cocking your head to the side. “See you, Grandpa.”

The stone in his gut sinks as he watches you leave but he forces his attention to the pink haired stranger in the obscenely reflective glasses.

“You know, I think she likes you,” he whispers with a wink.

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It’s been a long day but at least you don’t have to go out tomorrow. You’ve already changed into your favorite pair of comfy shorts but as you move to unbutton your work shirt something smacks against your chest. Did something get trapped in your cleavage?

“What the fuck?”

As you look down your stomach does a somersault. There’s a necklace draped around your neck with a half-broken heart pendant, etched with the word ‘BEST’. How did that guy sneak this ugly thing onto you? How did you not feel it until now? Maybe he’s some sort of street magician. Your shock is accompanied by a chuckle as you reach behind your neck to fidget with the clasp. Spinning the chain between your fingertips, you soon realize there isn’t one. This thing feels like a dollar store trinket, so you curl your fingers around the charm and pull down with all of your might. It remains secure around your neck no matter how hard you tug.

Your mind begins to break into a panic. What the fuck? What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck.

You quickly throw on a pair of sneakers and nab the keys hanging near the door on your way out of the apartment. It's hard to believe the speed at which your feet carry you down the several flights of stairs. A couple scrambles out of the way as they watch your frenzied descent. Before long you're pressing the entirety of your body against the familiar door of the convenience store across the street.

The clerk looks up from his phone, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise as you stumble past the threshold. Your body nearly folds in half as you plant your hands on your knees and struggle to catch your breath.

"Are you alright?"

You force yourself to stand up straight to address the man standing behind the counter. The word is devoid of conviction as it leaves your mouth. "Yeah."

You know him as Tae, one of Yoongi's part-time employees. Yoongi offered him a job when he heard him say he was looking for work to supplement his endeavors to put himself through art school. You’ve seen him a lot, spoken a little here and there, and he even knows you by name now. If he's here, it's probable that his boss is not. You sigh loudly in an attempt to relieve some of the panic and frustration built up in your brain. It's not like you can just ask Tae to give you Yoongi’s number.

Tae’s wide-eyed stare indicates his concern for your well being but it’s not until he drags his gaze across your body and purses his lips that you feel something is amiss. It's at this point that you realize how much the air conditioner billows the fabric of your work shirt. Goosebumps form along your calves as all of the blood in your body rushes to your face. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to conceal the half-unbuttoned shirt and the bra that pokes out from beneath it. There’s little you can do to cover the expanse of your legs while wearing such form-fitting shorts.

“I was just… checking to see if you have any Hot6,” you say with barely a glance in the direction of the refrigerator section. “But it’s clear you’re still out.”

Tae raises his eyebrows and grants you a subtle, uncertain nod as your eyes settle on the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’

“Is your boss here?” you blurt, reaching for the chain around your neck. “I’ve got a—”

Your stomach drops. It’s gone. Both of your hands instinctively smack at your collarbones, like frantically patting against your flesh will cause the necklace to reappear. You hold your shirt open wide enough to peer down at the skin of your chest with a concentrated gaze, eyes begging for any trace of the tacky piece of jewelry to resurface. Was it really just a figment of your imagination? You swear it was there. You felt it. You pulled on it. It had to be real.

You swallow hard and quickly bounce your eyes to the uncomfortable-looking cashier. All you can offer is a weak chuckle as you try to play it off by shaking out your shirt. “Sorry… I thought there was a bug."

There's an awkward, heavy silence between you as he nods with pursed lips. There's no way this poor guy believes your delusional ass. "Bossman's gone for tonight. Seemed kinda beat."

"Oh."

Your eyes settle on the countertop as your brain tries to rationalize what kind of unresolved issues at work are causing your mental breakdown. You stand there while spacing out, barely blinking. You can't believe you imagined that. Not knowing what to do, Tae walks his fingers towards the miniature cans of Red Bull stacked on the counter. He gracefully sweeps his hand around a can and offers it to you. That breaks you from your daze.

"It kinda tastes the same." He attempts to cut the tension with an endearingly awkward, close-mouthed smile. "My treat?"

If it were Yoongi saying such a thing you might scowl and tell him that he must be delusional if he thinks they're the same. Tae is a much kinder soul. You find yourself softening at his suggestion and shake your head.

"You know I should probably lay off the energy drinks now that I think about it," you say. "Have a good night, Tae."

"Goodnight, Y/N!" he calls after you as you wander back through the door. He leans over the counter. "Oh, hey wait! Do you want me to let bossman know you were looking for him?"

"It's fine!" you shout back on autopilot. You're already sinking into a pool of your own thoughts as the door closes behind you.

It was not fine.

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Sleep does not come easy despite your exhaustion. You find yourself tossing and turning all night. When the light begins to stream through your blinds it seems to strike at the perfect angle to blind your fluttering eyes. You pull the blankets up over your head even though you know it’s of no use; you’re already awake and there’s no going back to sleep now.

You stretch out with a yawn as you sleepily shuffle from the bed to the tiny bathroom around the corner of your room. It’s easy to apply toothpaste to your toothbrush on autopilot, taking a moment to rub your knuckles against an eye before glancing up towards the mirror. How bad is the bedhead today?

The sight that greets you causes you to drop your toothbrush in the sink and stumble back out of the doorway. Your fingers grip the frame to keep you on your feet, your attention quickly drawn to the thick digits situated there. As you force yourself forward, you support yourself with one hand on the counter and bring the other up for inspection. The foreign hand trembles as you turn it back and forth while trying to catch the breath that keeps running away from you. Anxiety sinks its teeth deeper into your lungs, causing a puncture that has you gasping for air.

Calluses adorn your fingertips, accompanied by scratches and scars from moments you've never experienced. Your nails are jagged and short, devoid of the pleasing pink color you applied to them two days ago. You dread the journey your eyes threaten to make towards the mirror once again but you find that you are unable to stop them. The face staring back at you with saucer-wide eyes is none other than Min Yoongi.

Your head feels light. This face is fake. You gasp for the air you can't seem to get enough of and stumble out of the bathroom. The walls seem to wobble in place as you race towards the living room where you can feel the breeze flowing through the window you left open last night. This world is fake. Nothing is real. Air will fix this. If you could just breathe like a normal person everything would be okay.

You fall to your knees within spitting distance of the window. For all the air your body greedily sucks inward, your mind feels bereft of any. Your vision goes dark.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

Yoongi does his best to make his way up the stairs with poise, but he's almost sure it looks like a waddle more than anything. His thighs --your thighs-- are chafing from the run here and each step is a painful reminder of the irritated flesh still rubbing together beneath these sweatpants. At least one of your neighbors was kind enough to let him into the main entrance. They must have recognized the face he mysteriously woke up with. Luckily your mailbox has your last name on it and as much as you might disagree he does pay attention when you talk.

He tries to wipe the sweat from his brow as he bends down to plant his hands on his knees. Even as his breath recovers, he grows increasingly frustrated with how heavy his chest feels. He repeatedly pushes the hair from his face with a groan, wishing he had taken the scissors to it when he had the opportunity earlier. He takes off the cap atop his head, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it back on his head. Everything is too much. You need to fix this. Take it back.

The faster he tries to ascend the stairs, the more he aches. He finally gives up on looking civil when he decides there's no one else in the stairwell to judge him. After all they'll only remember you anyway so what does it matter? He rolls the sweatpants up above his knees and cups the breasts hidden beneath the oversized sweater for support as he scrambles up the last few floors.

He grimaces at the dainty pink fingernails before curling his hand into a fist and rapping his knuckles against your door. He puffs his cheeks out and expels a long breath. What could you possibly be doing? You have to be in there. He tries the handle to no avail. Are you still asleep? He quickly abandons the need for subtlety and places both palms on the door and drums loudly against it. The sound of the deadbolt unlocking tells him he shouldn't hesitate. He's through the door before you can even properly get off your knees.

Somehow you knew what would be waiting for you on the other side. The sight before you has your mind reeling. That's your body, but it's not you. Could it really be Yoongi? You did not get Freaky-Friday'd with him. There's no fucking way this is reality. You can feel yourself panicking again as you back away from the figure, falling back on your ass. You watch yourself look down at you with a look of disgust.

"What are you doing?" That's definitely your voice.

Your body takes slow steps towards you as it crosses one arm over the other. You lean back on your elbows and groan. It's a deep sound, deeper than anything that's come from your throat even on your sickest day. This isn’t happening.

"Oh my god. I'm fucking dying," you murmur while tilting your head towards the ceiling. "Everything is fake. Nothing is real. I’m going crazy. Please let me rot."

The figure bends down and leans over into your field of vision. The image of your face frowns back at you and pokes you in the chest with a pointed fingernail.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t,” you whine between heavy breaths. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out again.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Those perfectly manicured hands reach out for your shoulders in comfort but you fall flat on your back and your arm flies up to cover your eyes.Tears sting at them as reality warbles around you again. Seeing your own face hovering above you definitely isn’t helping you feel more sane.

"I don't know what's happening," you sob.

With each breath you suck between your quivering lips, your chest aches. Suddenly that pair of hands is cupping your jaw and pushing your arm aside. You look into the eyes you are already so familiar with, but they seem far more caring than you’ve ever managed to display.

"We need to undo whatever is happening right now," he says calmly. "You don't have to like it. You don't have to tell me you're okay. But I need you to sit up and pull yourself together long enough to help me figure this out. Can you do that?"

You swallow hard and nod slowly as you take the hand offered to you. A half-smirk appears on his lips; it's strange to see yourself reflected with such warmth, especially knowing it's coming from Yoongi.

"Good. Now please go change. I can't look at those shorts anymore.”

You look down at your attire for the first time and realize how absurd Yoongi’s body looks in the clothing you wore to bed. The skimpy tank top clings to the muscular, flat chest you now possess. Worse still, you can see bits of flesh poking out against that hairy inner thigh below. You squeeze your eyes shut and pretend like you can forget what you just saw sticking out of your shorts.

You take a deep breath as your face burns with embarrassment. “Okay. Give me your pants.”

He stiffens at your demand and scoffs. “What?”

“I don’t have anything that will fit you— er, I mean, me. Us?” You gesture at your body and stare at the floor, trying to will yourself to not dissociate. “This. You can’t be comfortable either.”

There’s a sigh before he plops down on your couch with legs spread wide open. “My back hurts and my thighs rubbed together so much I don’t want to move anymore.”

You can’t help but laugh at the admission. At least he feels your pain. He looks up at you while reclining his head on the cushion behind him. You’re not hyperventilating anymore so distraction seems to be the key to keeping you relatively calm.

“Why you, of all people?” he wonders.

You roll your eyes and stomp across the room and disappear into your bedroom. “Hmph. I was about to ask you the same thing. This is bullshit.”

You come back with a handful of carefully selected clothes and strappy undergarments that you know for a fact flatter your shape. If he has to walk around in your skin the least he can do is make it look good. You pause halfway down the hall and swallow hard as it dawns on you that he’s going to have to get naked in order to change, which means he’s unavoidably going to be looking at your body without any barriers. You decide you’re going to be strong and you simply won’t think about it or acknowledge it as a possibility.

He’s busy chewing one of your nails when you reach the living room again. You hug the clothes close to your chest and storm across the room.

“Do you bite your nails?! Ew! God, no wonder yours are so jagged and gross,” you complain, thrusting the clothes into his lap.

He offers an apologetic look before glancing down at the attire you’ve supplied with raised eyebrows. He picks up the bra with one finger and grimaces at the way it dangles off his digit. He’s looking up at you with pleading eyes shortly after it falls back in his lap. It’s hard to avoid his gaze. You feel those pupils boring into your skull as you dart your eyes away to focus on the floor.

You clear your throat and muster every last bit of courage you possess. “Um… Your clothes, please?”

He inhales loudly through his nose and you watch the grey sweatpants pool around the toenails you just painted last night. You swallow hard and scramble to pick them up when they slide across the wooden floor to you. You clutch them to your chest, quickly catching the scent of your sweat and arousal on them. Maybe he hasn’t noticed? Trying to suppress the mortification growing in your chest, you purse your lips and trail your gaze back up to his face--your face. Thankfully the hoodie covers your sex and you’re hoping he hasn’t bothered taking a peek before coming here.

“Don’t… Don’t look,” you plead. So much for not acknowledging it.

He’s feeding his arm through one of the sleeves when he freezes in place and locks eyes with you. “I should tell you I woke up shirtless,” he mumbles. As if to lessen the blow of his admission, he continues with a pout, “But you can’t blame me for looking. It’s hard not to look at a pair of perfect tits that mysteriously appear in the middle of the night. What was I supposed to do?”

Perfect tits? You’d almost be flattered if it wasn’t so fucking morifying to know he’s already seen you. Your eyes screw shut and you nod. “Right.”

This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

“Hey,” he calls softly, prodding you to open your eyes. “Here.”

He keeps eye contact with you while feeding his other arm through the sleeve. Watching yourself strip without performing the act is bizarre. He holds the sweater out for you to slowly take. It eases your mind to see his gaze never wavered. Yours drops to the nude form before you and suddenly you’re criticizing every curve and flaw you can find. It’s as though you’re simply standing before a mirror and feeding your insecurity with needless scrutiny. Despite this, Yoongi remains focused on your face and the discomfort you display so openly at seeing your own form stripped bare. Almost bare. That beat-up baseball cap he wears every day now adorns your head like a crown for your mediocrity.

You spin on your heels and speedwalk down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s hard to ignore the new appendage you’ve acquired but you make sure to shut your eyes while peeling the shorts from your thighs and sliding the sweatpants up in their stead. While you rushed through the bottom half of your attire, you stop for a minute to inspect Yoongi’s bare pectorals. It’s all too easy to get lost in the sight of his body in the mirror. You subconsciously lick your lips and run your fingers across your flat, hard chest.

Your thumb circles a brown nipple and you watch with satisfaction as it grows hard at your touch. Your palms press down over your stomach, feeling the muscles hidden just below the surface of soft flesh. You grab at your hips, fingers threatening to dart below the band of your pants. Instead you suck air in through your nose and scold yourself for such weakness. You’re about to tug the sweater over your head when Yoongi silently enters and flops down on the bed face-first.

“Yoongi? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!” you shriek in your haste to cover up your own moment of weakness.

There’s a muffled response spoken into the mattress that you can’t quite understand.

"What?" Annoyance is a front for your embarrassment.

He turns his head to one side and sighs. "There are too many straps. Why did you pick such a difficult one?"

You definitely selected something with a lot of extra straps for a reason but you bite your lip and try to come up with an excuse that seems plausible. The truth is that you wanted to pick something sexy because you wanted him to see you as such. Does he care though? It's hard to tell. You decide the best excuse is to dismiss the question altogether.

"Stop being such a baby. I'll help you."

As he lifts his head to cringe in your direction, you're already out the door. He pounds his forehead against the mattress again and squeezes his eyes shut. There's clearly no logical explanation for this, so what is the next step to take? What should the pair of you do? Is this permanent? There has to be a way to undo whatever has happened. In order to figure that out he's trying to piece together the source of this predicament. No matter how hard he wracks his brain for answers to the puzzle, there still seems to be pieces missing.

"Get up. Come on," you huff, tugging at his arm.

The sound he makes is pitiful and whiny as he rises. It's easy enough to see where his arms are supposed to go when you've already bunched all of the material together. You step behind him and fiddle with the fit around the familiar mounds of flesh at his front. He instinctively looks down to watch how his own familiar fingers slide beneath the bra. He pries his eyes away just as quickly to find he has a much better view of the pair of you in the mirror.

There's a sight he'd never thought he'd see: both of you shirtless with his hands in your bra. It's not that he's never wanted it. It's just that he always seems to fuck it up when it comes to being social, with you in particular. Maybe it's because he likes you too much. There's never been a proper opportunity to make a move outside of work and he knows his flirting skills are abysmal. But looking at the reflection of the pair of you now fills him with equal amounts of desire and confidence.

Just as you’re about to clasp the first strap behind his neck you glance up and find yourself lost in the same reflection. An electric blush creeps up your spine and causes a tingle in your cheeks that makes you freeze like a deer caught in headlights. He hums a soft sound and makes the decision to reach back for your wrist. For a moment you’re not sure if you’re moving or if he is but you find yourself enjoying the sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers dipping below the fabric of your bra.

“Yoongi?” you ask, jaw hanging slack as the bra slips a bit further down.

“Do you feel that?” The voice is quiet as he lets you trace fingers along the soft skin. “It pinches there.”

That pinch is a familiar one but you always tell yourself that’s the price of beauty. The straps chafe. The underwire digs into your ribs. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s the sexiest-looking thing you own so comfort be damned. You watch it slide further down to reveal one of your nipples in the reflection of the mirror; it’s impossible to look away. So much for him not looking anymore. You can’t blame him because it’s impossible for you to take your eyes off it too. The sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers trailing along the side of your breast sends a surge of excitement through your veins.

Goosebumps form a path where your fingers have traced and Yoongi exhales a shaky breath. The sound makes you chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. Is he feeling just as turned on right now? You try to remind yourself that the mirror is a lie. He’s not touching you. You’re touching him, regardless of how it looks. You can’t let your feelings cloud your judgement. It’s so fucking hard to think straight now that you’re together like this, not just because he’s here in your room but because he’s experiencing the unique arousal of his body while trapped in yours.

“Being a girl sucks. What am I supposed to do about it?” Your fingers tremble as you force your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

The action does not go unnoticed. He smirks and quirks a brow but chooses to let it slide without commenting. “Give me something easy and comfy.”

“But—” You hesitate. Do you really need to argue about this? You can’t explain it without admitting your feelings towards him. It seems like an inopportune time, more so than usual. It’s better if you can just shut the fuck up for two seconds and work on the important task at hand: figuring out how to get back to normal.

He immediately fills the gap with an objection of his own. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” you say in the flattest tone you can muster.

He turns around to get a better read on your body language but you’re already rummaging through your drawers. You toss a sports bra with a front-facing zipper at him while you don the sweater and slip into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It’s best to avoid situations like that again if you can.

Yoongi takes this moment to inspect the room, crinkling his nose at the several empty cans of Hot6 stacked on top of your dresser. He brings a long manicured nail to his teeth and begins working it back and forth as he slides the folding closet door open with a finger. Much to his surprise your wardrobe is filled with t-shirts that look much more comfortable than the piece you previously selected. He’s quick to trade shirts and carefully replaces the clothing on the hanger before sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his elbows. Comfy. Finally. His attention is drawn to the closed bathroom door. It’s been a while. Are you okay?

“You better not be passed out in there,” he whines, making sure to sound extra annoying for you.

The attempt to conceal the concern in his tone is successful but he’s happy you’re not able to see his worried expression. If you knew how badly he wants to freak out, you might actually start hyperventilating again. He’d like to avoid that. The door swings open and you exhale deeply. You’re not about to tell him you had to wait out the boner because then he’d probably make fun of you. He watches you take a few steps forward while wedging a nail between his teeth.

“Are you biting my fucking nails again?”

“Yup.”

You’re already scrambling across the bed and by the time he moves to shuffle backwards you have his wrists pinned against your soft comforter and you’re straddling his waist. Oh god. This is too fucking hot to be doing with him while he’s in your body. Abort. Abort!

It’s now that you note he’s wearing a soft cotton t-shirt you definitely did not pick out. “Yoongi, did you—”

“These clothes are better. Did you give me the most uncomfortable things you own just to make me suffer for stealing your muffin?”

Between the sports bra and the t-shirt he’s selected the curves of your body are lost to your eyes and your heart sinks. There goes any chance you had of him thinking your body is sexy. He’s expecting a tongue lashing but you sigh instead and release your hold on him, quickly climbing off his form before you can let your body get you into trouble. You search for the laptop that you know is hidden just beneath the covers near your pillows.

“Pfft. Look, maybe we can google what happened to us and not get Freaky Friday movie reviews. You wanna see if it works?”

He offers a half smirk in response and he’s quiet only for a second before he hums a sound of distaste. It’s an accusation and you know it. He quickly scoots back towards the pillows so he can sit beside you.

You scowl as you mistype your own password. “Ugh. What?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re so mad.”

“I’m not.”

You make sure to broadcast the fact that you’re definitely not mad by repeatedly tapping the delete key in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Why does your face look like that then?” he prods while folding his hands across his lap.

“Like what? You of all people should know that your face always looks this grumpy.”

As he rests his head against the fluffy material behind him, he lazily rolls his head towards you. “Y/N.”

You dramatically throw your head back against the pillows and mirror his stare. “Yoongi.”

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumble.

“It clearly does,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “We have to work together to figure this out, so some honesty might be nice.”

You open the laptop and stare at the password screen for a moment with a longing sigh. “Fine. I look gross in those,” you admit with a brief glance at his attire. “You’re making me look like an unsexy blob.”

He scoffs. “What? Is that all? You’re being ridiculous. These clothes don’t matter at all. We both know what you look like underneath them. Honestly, you could be wearing a trashbag and still be sexy.”

“To whom?” You want to laugh at how absurd his explanation sounds. “What kind of lunatic would think that?”

He blinks slowly and raises his eyebrows with a calculated clench of his jaw. “Me. For starters.”

He’s stiff as he purses his lips and crosses his arms. He stares at the login screen, waiting for you to type your password. “And any sane man or woman with a pair of eyes and a brain.”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief mid-stroke. Was that a confession? Your head might as well be full of helium with how high you’re feeling. This has to be a dream. If the insane concept of switching bodies with Yoongi isn’t enough to solidify it, those words sure are. You have to be dreaming.

Your eyes remain locked onto the fingers now resting against the keys. “Do you really think that?”

“Yes.” The response comes quicker than expected but instead of giving you time to ruminate on it, he nudges you with his elbow. “Password.”

Your shoulders lift with a deep inhale through your nose and drop back down with the subsequent forceful exhale through your lips. What are you supposed to do with that information? You feel your consciousness try to lift into the aether. If you could only make it float back into your own body, you might have the courage to say something, anything. With your mind drifting away, your fingers move of their own accord as they type in the password to your laptop.

"Whoa, what the fuck is that?"

The video you'd left open last night starts up with a preview that brings you back to reality, but not fast enough.

"D-Don't look! It's private!" you screech.

Heat pulses through the veins along the sides of your forehead. Precious seconds have already been wasted by the time you frantically scramble to close the tab. He's seen the keywords in the search bar and the nastiest bits of that particular video. You're fucking mortified.

“I mean that’s definitely a couple privates," he jokes with a laugh. "You seriously just leave your porn out like that?"

”Incognito mode, Yoongi," you sneer while pulling up a new tab. "I don’t need you or my FBI guy judging me.”

He snorts. “Oh come on, Y/N. The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences. And neither do I. Besides, you technically looked at it with my eyes already.”

He taps the side of your forehead gently as if you needed the reminder that you're not in your own skin and you swat him away. You quickly type the phrase “body swap” into the search bar and try to focus on the resulting web pages even though you’re distracted by the blood leaving your brain in favor of other body parts.

"Can you just… Shut up for one second?"

"Hey, I'm just saying..." He clicks his tongue thoughtfully as he scooches closer to you. "You’re into some good stuff. We might have more in common than I thought."

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the physical contact and send a tingling electricity down your abdomen. You clear your throat and reposition the computer over your lap as you feel yourself growing harder. You stare down at the two fingers settled on the trackpad rather than the information on screen. Try as you might to remain inconspicuous, suddenly all you can think about are those thick fingers rubbing hard circles against your clit while the two of you watch porn together. Bad thought. Baaaaaad. You attempt to pass the laptop over to him as discreetly as possible while shifting your pelvis away towards the edge of the bed.

“I’m…” You flounder for an excuse to leave the room and get these racing hormones under control. “...pee.”

“What?” There's a quizzical expression branded upon his features that toes the line of disgust.

“I have to pee,” you quickly correct while tactically holding your forearm over your lap. If there is such a thing as fate, why is it torturing you like this?

“Again?”

You push the laptop towards him once more and pray that he’ll just let you go be embarrassed alone in the bathroom for five minutes. Instead he looks down at the way your forearms cross your pelvis and exudes a deep, throaty laugh that sounds foreign in the tenor of your voice. That laughter travels through your head like it’s made of hot coals.

“Wow. Got a boner, huh?”

Your cheeks are made of fire. Literal fire. They feel like they should melt straight through your skin and torch your brain yet here you are: still alive and wishing you would burn to death. God is dead. There is no mercy in this universe.

"Don't fucking laugh at me! I can't control it!"

When he laughs harder, the urge to silence him overtakes all rational thought. You reach for a lock of hair sticking out from beneath his cap and pull hard. He hisses through his teeth and you smirk, knowing what kind of response this would normally elicit from your body. Will it affect him the same, or is the sexual response guided by mental preference rather than physical? Maybe it’s both. It seems to have some effect because he’s stopped laughing.

Yoongi shivers as goosebumps riddle his arms and prickle along his chest until his nipples are threatening to poke holes through the thin fabric of the bra and t-shirt. His jaw tightens and on instinct his hand shoots up to grasp at the short black hair adorning your head in retaliation. He catches himself before he pursues the motion of yanking down. What is he doing? Can he really be so bold with you? He knows you, but not like this. Things are strange right now but if he keeps going they're bound to get stranger. If the butterflies in his stomach weren't enough to tip him off to his attraction to you, even like this, the wetness between these thighs solidifies the magnetism you hold over him.

A pitiful sound escapes your lips that hints at your disappointment. “Mmm?"

He pauses there to inspect your expression, tilting his head as though it will give him a better read. He should be able to interpret his own expression but looking at his face through your eyes doesn't seem to help at all. Because he's studied your features for so long it's hard to see what you're feeling now that he can't see them at work. His palm flattens against your scalp and he allows his fingers to wander through the thick black hair he's combed out a million times. Somehow it feels softer in your hands. Soon he finds his hand cupping the back of your neck. Labored breaths swim in the space between the pair of you, but it's hard to tell who they belong to.

"What are you doing?" you whisper as your fingers reach for the brim of his cap.

"What are you doing?" he echoes back.

Have your eyes always looked so fierce, or is it his persona breathing a dark fire into them now? You flick the cap off his head, which releases all the hair he had trapped underneath it. You push it back from his face and tangle your fingers within it.

"Pretending like this isn't just you wanting to make out with yourself to see what it's like," you answer, staring at the reflection in his eyes. "You?"

There's a smirk that grows into a full blown grin within seconds. "Trying to convince myself that it isn't insane to want to make out with myself just to see what it's like."

You scoff and drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a firm push back. "Dick."

He giggles at the way you pout and halfheartedly pushes the laptop towards the other side of the bed. The hand still on the back of your neck travels up to massage your scalp and suddenly you're putty in his palm. His other hand trails along your stubbly jaw until his fingers are nestled behind your ear. As he glances down at the tent in your pants he laughs.

"Still hard?"

"Like your nipples," you grumble.

You reach out and twist the peaks barely hidden beneath his shirt; it's an impulse you don't refuse. This time he moans.

"Oh, you liked that, hmm? I bet you're so fucking wet right now," you whisper, embracing your boldness.

You watch his eyes roll with the flutter of his lashes at your words. Both of his hands glide through your hair and he begins to flex his fingers around some strands. He alternates between releasing his gentle grip on your locks and twisting his fingers back into them. You’re making him crazy. Should he even bother trying to compose himself at this point?

“What?” you prod, pushing the limits of his endurance for such brattiness. “Aren’t you going to pull my hair, Yoongi?”

The way he glares at you causes your skin to break out in a series of goosebumps. How can you be shivering when your body was just doing its best impression of molten rock? Yoongi. That’s the answer. You whimper a pathetic sound as his knuckles curl towards your scalp. The motion brings your forehead down to meet his and your eyelids flutter closed. He focuses heavy breaths out through his nose and stares at the lips he knows are his own. They may be part of his usual physical appearance but right now they’re a part of yours.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

He sucks his bottom lip through his teeth and moves towards you before he can second guess what he's about to do. His lips seem to meld with yours and your eyes pop open to be sure this is really happening. Is this really happening? You see your own nose and heavy lidded eyes peeking open just enough to roll back in pleasure.

The hands buried in your hair drop to cradle your jaw and you can feel the stubble scraping against the delicate skin of his fingers as he drags his hands slowly towards your chin. You melt into his touch and hold your breath like you'll never inhale another again. Suddenly you're kissing him back and no amount of lightheadedness can stop you.

Oh shit. This is happening. It’s not anything like your daydreams but it’s real and it feels so fucking good. It feels surreal. It feels too surreal. Maybe the lightheadedness can stop you. It's you, but it's not. Your eyes open again and you find a battle of anxiety raging in your brain. He pauses to peck the edge of your mouth when he realizes you're no longer kissing him back.

"What are you doing?" he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “Did I… read that wrong?”

“No! No, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It’s just…” A laugh bubbles from your throat and you shake your head before bursting into a fit of giggles. “This is weird.”

Relief washes over his features and he smiles as he leans back to look at you. “It’s definitely unique. But I can’t say I want to stop.”

His admission fills you with a fresh wave of tingles up your spine. “Me neither. I… still want you.”

You sheepishly turn your head to the side and find the mirror lining the closet wall, looking at the image of the pair of you as if it will save you from the embarrassment of your own words.

"What? Now you're getting shy?" he teases while following you gaze to the reflection. It dawns on him that he can enjoy the view. "Or do you just want to watch?"

He moves towards your lips slowly while keeping focused on the mirror, watching your eyes lazily roll back behind your lids and revelling in the whine this pulls from you.

“Look,” he pleads in low whisper, angling your body so you can get a better view. “Look how good you look with your tongue on my neck.”

Your head lolls around just in time to see exactly that before the sensation snaps across your nerve endings. He latches on, sucking light bruises into the tender flesh. He knows where to put his tongue to have you gripping the back of his neck and arching your back up towards him. He smirks as he glances at the mirror, licking a hot stripe up to your ear where he teasingly nibbles on the lobe.

"Does it look as hot when I--when you...?" You flounder on your words in between soft pants, your eyes trained on the reflection.

He counters with a whisper, “Do you want to find out?”

“I’m… curious,” you admit, leaning your head back to give him access to more of your neck.

“You want to know how it feels,” he lazily mumbles against your neck. “Hmm. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s a unique opportunity,” you say, trying to convince yourself that proposing the idea isn’t weird at all. “Maybe we just… See?”

“Right. This is a unique opportunity,” he echoes in agreement, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he sighs a heated breath against your skin. “We should take advantage of it.”

“I mean, as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

He pops his head up to look at you, his brows knotted in confusion. “Who would believe me?”

You shake your head and smirk. “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a moment where the concept of time seems to evaporate. You both stare at each other like you’re seeing your own faces for the first time, like it’s the first time you both can actually love and accept yourselves as you are. It’s easier to be gentle with someone else, but now that someone else is technically also a part of you it brings a level of clemency to your feelings regarding your appearance. You like yourself better now that you can see a part of him there.

“Will you show me how you like it?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“If you show me, too,” you say with a gentle rock of your hips towards him.

“You first.”

Your mouth is already covering the soft expanse of his neck, dragging your teeth with just enough pressure to tease the skin. He watches you work up and down through the mirror, feeling the arousal between his legs building. As you're kissing a path back towards his mouth he takes a chance and swings his leg over your midriff so he's kneeling just above the throbbing cock hidden beneath the thin layer of gray fabric. The jeans dig a hard line into his stomach and limit the range of his spread.

"These pants are horrible," he complains.

"Take them off if you hate them so much," you agree between hungry kisses. It's impossible to keep your eyes from the mirror. He hooks his fingers beneath your sweater and begins working it upwards, stopping only to rest a palm on your chest.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He trails his fingers down the flat expanse until he gets to your navel, passing over the dark hair leading down into your pants. He tugs at the place where the hair begins to grow thicker and laughs when you hiss an expletive.

He quickly pulls the oversized sweater upwards. Instead of helping you out of it, he clutches the fabric with both hands as you bring your arms above your head and presses you back into the mattress. You find your bent elbows trapped in the sleeves.

“How about this?” he whispers. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” You look down at the delicious pectorals he’s exposed, practically salivating at the sight of those pert nipples. “Yoongi, please.”

He smirks as he runs his fingers down your chest, ignoring the nipples you wish he would do something about. Lower. Lower. His hand travels behind him until suddenly your body spasms with pleasure from the practiced grip he’s placed on the cock standing at attention behind him.

“This? Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”

“Fuck! Yes. Please. Yes!”

Just as quickly as his hand pressed against your clothed erection, it’s gone, leaving you a whimpering mess. He plants a kiss beside one of your nipples, but denies it any direct contact.

"Stop teasing me," you whine. The pressure in your chest builds with every second that passes and you feel like your heart is going to burst.

He lets out a lofty sigh as he sits back on his thighs, promptly removing his t-shirt. "But you make it so easy..."

You wiggle out of the arms of the sweater and sit up to unsnap the button to his jeans. You kiss up his stomach until he’s unzipping the bra and letting you nip at the supple flesh for a moment. He discards the bra like it’s nothing before rolling over to unzip his pants. He peels them from his legs along with the soaked panties. It’s hard to not look at the mirror as he climbs over your waist. If he holds any shame for being nude in front of you, it’s not apparent in his current form. Your face, however, feels hot. Your body is exposed and he keeps looking at it, groping those breasts with his hands.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, admiring the reflection as he plays with his nipples between his fingers.

You want to bury your face in something to hide your embarrassment so you plant your face between his tits and begin to suck bruises into the soft flesh beside his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” The sight of his own face diving between those squishy tits is enough to make his body involuntarily flex in ways he’s never experienced before.

“How does it feel?” you murmur, slowly licking a path to one of his nipples and lightly dragging your teeth along it.

The sound he makes when he moans has you shivering all over again. He lets his head fall back for a second and then he looks at you. “Like I want you to touch me.”

Now you’re the one who smirks with confidence. “Lay back.”

He snaps the band at your waist as he rolls off of you. “These. Off.”

Manicured fingers slip down to rub some of the tension from the swollen bud between his legs as he watches you awkwardly push the pants down past the cock begging to be touched. You try to avoid looking at it. It’s hard not to feel exposed even though it’s not your body. You scramble back into the bed as quickly as you can. His laughter catches you off guard.

“You’re so shy now. Look at it. Feel it,” he urges. “Grab my cock.”

You try to be casual about your downward glance but the way you lick your lips is anything but casual. You press your thumb into the base of the cock to admire its shape from a 90 degree angle. It’s average in terms of length but your mouth waters at the sight of the bulging veins and increased girth just below the swollen tip. You don’t bother to resist the urge to grip the shaft. You drag your hand up and trace your thumb around the fleshy mauve tip. The sensation causes you to shiver. It’s so sensitive.

As you’re admiring the way it tapers towards the base, soft, thinner fingers curl around yours and begin to guide them into a slow, controlled pumping motion that sets your nerves alight.

He quirks a brow at you. “What do you think?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you choke out with a held breath. Greedy gasps break the small silence that follows. Has it always been so hard to speak while masturbating? It’s not like you’re terrible at dirty talk so why are you hesitating?

“Do you need me to stop?”

You fervently shake your head and follow it with a needy groan. “No. Please… Keep going.” You hope he never stops.

“Then use your words” he urges, placing his hand over yours to slow your pace to a crawl.

You whimper. It’s a pathetic sound created with his voice in his throat, yet it still somehow sounds so deliciously like you. While he finds himself attracted to your usual body, it doesn’t bother him that you’re currently assuming a different form. Looks are fleeting anyway. It’s the person inside he’s grown attached to, the caring soul he feels connected to.

He’s seen you stare at the bulletin board near the restroom and tear off the tabs of creative community activities to benefit those in need. If he wasn’t so busy managing the store all the time he would have been able to sign up for those events too. He’s seen you volunteer at the homeless shelter just around the corner. He’s seen you cradling posters for your neighbor’s missing cat— he’d even let you keep one on the door to his store until you told him they found it.

The truth is that your soul is so beautiful and full that he’d want you no matter what you looked like. If only he had the courage to say that. But it's easier to hide behind snark.

“It feels so good,” you whine. “I wish I could put my mouth all over it. Bet you’d fill me so good.”

A growl escapes with his exhale and he guides your fist up and down the girth between your legs with increased vigor. He gently leads you by the dick, pulling you closer to the bed until your knees hit the side.

“Look in the mirror, Y/N. Watch,” he whispers in a low tone, almost begging you to keep your eyes on the reflection.

You do as he says and watch in awe as a set of manicured fingers tap against your chest and trail down to the cock still nestled in your fist. They work their way beneath your palm and shoo your hand away. Even knowing that Yoongi is behind the action, the sight of your hands stroking that perfect cock sets a fire of desire coursing through your veins.

You watch in the mirror as your lips plant kisses on the dark hair beneath Yoongi’s navel. You watch as your head sinks lower and lower until soft, plush lips are skimming the tip of his dick. You watch his length slide into your mouth and immediately your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands are already reaching up to stabilize your stance even as he glides his tongue against you. The pleasure is unlike anything you’ve felt before, but having your clit sucked and teased comes close. It’s heaven. You whimper a tortured sound sitting somewhere between the boundaries of pleasure and anguish. He plays your role so well, maybe even better than you could play it. You attempt to distract yourself from the nervous tremble of your thighs by gathering bits of his hair in your hands and balling it in your fists. He gargles out a muffled moan against you.

“I look so good sucking your pretty cock,” you whisper in awe.

He leans back to swipe his tongue over the slit and then sinks back down, nose hitting the tuft of dark hair at your pelvis as you bottom out in his throat. Your grip around his hair tightens with the slight rock of your hips. You press his face against your crotch like you never want him to leave. The pair of you look so fucking hot. You’re revelling in slow, shallow thrusts deep in his throat when he makes a gagging noise you know all too well. He grips your thighs and you immediately release your hold while pulling your hips back.

“Fuck I’m so sorry!” Heat rises in your face and you want to run and hide.

He rests his palm on your waist and catches his breath, a trail of sticky precum and thick spit connecting his mouth to your cock. It involuntarily flexes and bobs up towards your stomach and then back down, which severs the path of saliva.

“Don’t be. That was hot.” He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“Yoongi, you didn’t have to! I mean I was curious but I—”

You’re cut off by his harsh tug on your hands. You stumble forward and meet his dark gaze. How can he make your eyes look so hungry?

“I’m a firm believer in never asking someone to do what I wouldn’t. I like to know what I’m giving, don’t you?”

“God, I wish that were me. I want to taste you so bad,” you whine, licking your lips as you spare a glance down at the glistening appendage standing at attention between your legs. “Wanna taste you dripping off my tongue.”

“You can,” he assures you in a soft voice, cupping your face with his hands.

His lips are on yours in an instant and you’re moaning against them like you’ll never get enough. The salty tang on his tongue transfers to yours as it dips into your mouth. You wish you could take him into your mouth yourself, but this is a good substitute for now.

"You taste good," you pant between kisses. "Why haven't we done this sooner?"

He pulls away to shrug, cocking his head to the side and focusing on your neck. "If you want something you have to speak up. No one can read minds and even if they could, often times people are so wrapped up in their own heads they'd never see what you think.”

"Wow, getting philosophical on me, huh? So… What? I'm just supposed to say, ‘Hey yoongi you're hot. Wanna fuck’?"

"That's a little blunt don't you think?" He laughs, allowing you to push him back onto the mattress. "Been holding that back long?"

Your heart skips a beat, heat flushing your ears. "Maybe. Would it have made a difference?”

He ponders this for a moment as he squints at the ceiling in concentration. "Mmm. I'd say you should at least buy me dinner first… "

You scoff. It’s not a no but it’s not an enthusiastic yes either. You climb onto the mattress, trying to ignore how casually he lays in your bed, completely barren before you.

He rolls onto his side and props his head up to survey your approach. You seem a little nervous so it’s easier for him to fake confidence for both your sakes. "I guess we're both guilty of not saying what we mean."

"What is it you really mean to say then?" If he’s got a juicy secret he’s been holding in, then you want to know to salvage what’s left of your pride.

"I give you shit but I like that you come into the store every day to get your muffin and your gross energy drink. I like when you come back in after just to bitch about your day and pretend like you need a snack that I never see you eat. I like when you ask me about my day, even though you know I’m shit at conversation. It makes me happy because I care about…" he hesitates when he sees your smug grin. "...”

“Yes?” you prod.

He draws a deep breath from his belly. “You. I care about you. I’ve never found an opportunity to tell you that I like you. I’m always working, keeping my store afloat, focused on the numbers and the success of my business. But I see you coming out of that building every day. I watch for you to make sure even after a year of this that you’re still coming here first. It’s crazy but you put me at ease and make me anxious at the same time. I feel like I know you, like I’ve known you all my life.”

He pauses to allow you to interject. When you don’t, he continues, “I feel it in my bones when you smile at me, when you roll your eyes at me, when you try to make me laugh... You’re so easy to fall for. I know that I’m not, but sometimes you look at me and I feel like you want to. I want you to. I wish you would come back when I’m locking up for the night so that I could see you outside of work, so I could take you out, so I could take you home. A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say.”

“Yoongi…” you finally whisper.

Your face scrunches up like you’re about to cry and he grimaces at you, knowing you’re definitely about to do just that.

“Don’t do that. My cheeks look so fat when you do that. Hey, are you listening? Don’t make my face look so ugly!”

His attempts to make you smile simply causes the tears to fall from your eyes. You melt into his embrace, burying your face against his neck as you sob. He places a tentative palm on the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, planting a kiss against your hair, “if it’s just me.”

“No, I feel the same way,” you admit, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “You say you’re hard to love but how can that be true when I feel what I feel so easily? I will wait for you to close your shop and walk you home every day if you let me. I will be yours, if you let me.”

He turns your head so that he can bring his lips to yours. They taste salty again for entirely different reasons. Can you feel the way he’s trembling right now? All the relief in the world can’t assuage the ache of carrying such a burden in his chest for so long. The adrenaline is coursing through him like a wildfire, spreading until his lungs are burning with a heat he can’t quell.

“Mine, then,” he whispers, allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks freely. “Mine.”

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a passionate kiss that threatens to steal every last bit of oxygen from your lungs. He growls into your mouth, claiming every inch inside with his tongue. He grinds his hips upwards and it’s then you remember that you’re naked and you have a dick that’s still half-hard and growing harder by the second.

You groan loudly. “Fuuuuuck. I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

He pulls back to bite his lip, the intrigue in his features apparent. “You want to try it?”

“I mean… you sucked your own dick for me. You don’t owe me anything—”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I want to try it,” he says, wriggling his hips beneath you. “Fuck. Me.”

“This is still so weird,” you say with a giggle, your eyes rolling back into your skull when the tip of your cock glides against his clit. “Ah…”

The pair of you pause and slowly repeat the motion. You can feel how wet he is and instead of being embarrassed like you would be in his place, you find it incredibly hot.

“Do it again,” he pleads, spreading his legs further apart to allow you better access.

You look down, pressing your thumb into the base of your cock and carefully glide the tip across the folds between his legs. He hisses an expletive between his teeth when you drag it past his clit and begin rocking your hips back and forth.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers through frantic panting and sloppy kisses.

You feel a cramp in your thigh and pull back to nurse the ache. He whines when you slink away from his body, missing the friction on his clit already, although he’s satisfied enough when you circle one of his breasts with your tongue and take a nipple into your mouth. You press light circles into his clit with the pad of your middle finger until you can feel his legs flexing around your body like you’re not giving him enough. His fingers dive beneath yours to tease the swollen bud.

“Let me feel,” he pants. “Let me learn where to touch.”

You carefully guide his movements for a minute while treating his other nipple to the pleasures of your tongue. He seems to get the hang of stimulating himself pretty quickly so you turn your attention towards his thighs. You sink between them and begin kissing the sensitive skin beside his folds. His thighs twitch when you trace circles around his entrance with your tongue. You briefly pause to inspect your fingernails, making sure none of them are a jagged mess from the way he’s bitten them. When you’re satisfied with your inspection you peek up at him.

“You want to try my fingers first?” you ask, feeling envious that you can’t be riding three of them to the knuckle right now. “I can show you how my mouth feels too, though I doubt I’m an expert on that.”

“I don’t care about that.” He lifts his hand so he can peer down at you from between his tits. “I’ll take your mouth anywhere you want to give it.”

He watches as you flick your tongue across the sensitive, slick bundle of nerves. He bucks his hips as you clamp down and roll your tongue back and forth over it. His pretty painted nails look so good digging into your ebony hair. It’s not long until you dip a finger inside his cunt, teasing until you’re bobbing it in and out at a decent pace.

“Oh…” he says, as if he’s surprised that the experience is so pleasurable. “Shit, that’s good. Fuck. I’m gonna....”

You push another finger into him, curling the longest digit as far as you can to try and reach the g-spot you know is hiding nearby. When you finally get it he grips your shoulders and arches his pelvis off the ground like he’s committing to a new yoga routine. You recognize the stiffness in his limbs, the involuntary tremble of his thighs beside your head, the heaving of his chest and the frantic nonsense spilling out from his lips. You focus your energy on his clit, replacing your mouth with your hand since you have more confidence bringing about his climax this way.

His hips stutter and you know he’s riding the line. It’s a little bit more difficult to find that perfect rhythm when your hand isn’t in it’s normal position. The way he sucks in a breath to release his needy whines almost makes you feel guilty. It’s not like you’re trying to edge him but you’re not able to keep that pressure as consistent as you’d like.

“I’m so close,” he pants. “But I keep losing it. I’m sorry.”

You’ve been there plenty of times but you’re desperate to make him cum.

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Rub it, baby. You know what feels good,” you whisper, shifting your attention to fingering his cunt. You don’t call attention to the pet name, but it feels so natural falling from your lips in this moment. You hope he doesn’t mind.

In an instant his fingers replace yours on his clit and he’s building back up. His thighs quake and his back arches off the mattress one more time and you know it’s coming. He’s about to reach his peak.

He takes a sharp inhale and where you expect the loud wails you would normally make while riding out your high, there’s quiet shuddering and softy breathy moans that linger in the air around you. He grabs your wrist with an ironclad grip as soon as he rides the last wave and his sweaty thighs fall limp around your face. You’re grinning like an idiot as he pulls you by the hair towards his lips, desperate to feel you, to taste you. His tongue is exploring every bit it can, trying to steal the essence from your mouth.

“Mmm. I want to taste that sweet pussy every day.“

“Do you… Still want me to fuck you?” You’re really trying not to sound hopeful but you can’t stop thinking about it.

He smirks and wipes the sweat from his brow. “Let me feel how well my cock fills you.”

“Do I need a condom?” you ask. “Are you clean?”

He laughs like it’s an absurd question. “That’s up to you. I haven’t had sex in four years. I’m clean. If you’re not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Four years is a long time,” you mumble, suddenly feeling pressure perform well. “I have an IUD so if you’re okay with it…”

“I wanna know how it feels.”

As soon as you line yourself up with his entrance you’re sweating like you’ve never sweated in your entire life. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re hoping it doesn’t suck. It doesn’t take a genius to sense your nerves. He reaches out to cup your stubbly jaw.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just… tell me if I’m hurting you,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his.

You let the tip dip inside and descend into his cunt slowly, knowing the thickest part of your dick follows the tip immediately. The stretch must be delicious. You’re distracted by how tightly his walls are clamping down on you. It’s tempting to bury yourself in his warmth as quickly as possible but you show restraint. His breath hitches as he adjusts to your girth and you freeze. Has your body ever taken someone as thick as him? You can’t recall. Probably not.

“Keep going,” he coaches, grabbing at your ass to press you further inside until you’ve bottomed out.

Your head hangs down as you try not to let the sensation overwhelm you. His lips find yours, helping you climb back down from the high. You slowly move your hips back, already missing the tight warmth hugging you. It takes a few more slow thrusts until you’re pumping into him at a relatively steady pace.

“Sorry if my rhythm isn’t good. I’ve never done this,” you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“You’re doing fine. This feels amazing. What are you talking about?”

He could be lying to make you feel better but it’s working. He puts his hands by his head to indicate he wants you to hold them. You immediately twine your fingers in his and press the back of his hands into the mattress.

“Yeah? It feels so fucking good, Yoongi.”

“It does... But I know you can fuck me harder than that, Y/N.”

You can already feel the tightness you’re holding back, a pleasurable pressure building in your pelvis that warns you of the imminent orgasm you can only stave off for so long. You can’t help but slam your hips in harder and faster at his request. The sound of balls slapping against skin fills the room and he moves his hips to meet yours. His breathing grows labored but you know he’s not about to cum again. You’ve never gotten off from penetration alone and there’s no way your sloppy performance will cause that miracle to happen now.

“There you go… Fuck. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna pull out,” you warn, feeling like you’re testing your own limits with every thrust.

“Already?” he teases, digging his pretty fingernails into your back.

“It feels… too fucking good, Yoon…” You wish you had more stamina. “Gonna cum on those pretty tits.”

“Yoon?” He chuckles, now distracted by the way his tits are bouncing with each slap of your hips.

“Just wait until I’m back in that body riding your cock. See how long you last then.”

“Is that a promise?” he questions, cupping your jaw to kiss you.

“...Yeah...”

He can feel the difference in your pace, in the shivers of your body. You’re about to cum. He turns your face towards the mirror so you can see how fucked out your reflection looks. It’s intoxicating seeing Yoongi’s body so needy and desperate.

“Look at you. You’re not gonna make it to these tits.”

“Fuck…” you bite your lip and try to slow your pace but it’s too late. The tension and pressure bursts from the head of your cock like a confetti popper on New Years. With a few, strong pumps you spill your seed into his warm cunt. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cummmph--”

Yoongi brings your lips back to meet his to muffle the unexpected sounds of your orgasm.

“Oh my goooood. You’re so loud,” he teases when you finally come down, but you’re too spent to refute him.

There’s another twitch in your dick and you lay there with your mouth open, trying to regain sense of your faculties. He intentionally clenches around your softening length and every muscle in your abdomen flexes.

“Too much!” you shriek, pulling out and rolling off of him in one swift motion.

You let your sweaty back hit the soft duvet, trying to recover from the sensation. He laughs, angling his legs towards the mirror. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he spreads his legs and swipes at the cum dripping from his cunt, pushing it back inside with his fingers and releasing a soft sigh. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen yourself do, and you’re not even doing it.

When he’s satisfied that he’s pushed it all in, he lays down next to you. The two of you stare at the ceiling in silence for at least a minute. Is it awkward or was it just that good? You can’t tell the difference right now and it’s making you anxious. He covers your hand with his and looks over at you with a warm smile.

The anxiety-driven words come out before you can stop them. “You should pee. You don’t want a UTI and neither do I.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

About an hour has passed in awkward silence as the two of you conduct research on what the fuck happened to you. You haven’t talked about what you both did in this bed, but the smell of sex still hangs in the air. As soon as you both put your clothes back on it was like a switch of modesty came back into play, and you feel too shy to point it out. You don’t know what to say, so you’ve just been clicking on every link you possibly can to fill the silence as he scrolls through articles on his phone nearby. It’s uncomfortable and you hate it.

“I think I have something, maybe,” you say, scrolling through the 90s looking website you’ve been exploring for the last few minutes.

Yoongi scoots closer to you and furrows his brow as he squints to read the sloppy banner at the top of the page. “The Unsolved?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Conspiracy theorists are insane, I know, but—”

You reach for the trackpad at the same time and your fingers brush, causing you to freeze mid-sentence. You stare at the keyboard for a second and chew on your lip, allowing your eyes to dart towards your periphery without moving your head. When he doesn’t say anything you clear your throat and scroll with the trackpad.

“But, look.” You point to the two embedded images triumphantly.

“Necklaces.” He cocks his head to the side and reads the text underneath aloud. “‘An Amulet of Discord is used by an Agent of Chaos to spread mischief and debauchery in the universe. It can be split into two halves to displace unsuspecting victims from their bodies. A glamour will protect the Amulet once the ritual is complete, making it impossible to see or touch. In order to reunite the victim with their body, the Agent responsible must be compelled to remove the glamour and mend the fragmented pieces into one.’”

“Last night I had one of those chincy friendship necklaces on and I definitely did not put it on. It looked a lot like the ones that weird guy tried to give us at your shop yesterday. I tried to get it off but it wouldn’t budge. Then it disappeared.”

“This sounds insane,” he muses, mulling over the information.

“Did it happen to you too?”

“I thought I saw one briefly, but… It was gone when I looked again. I thought I must be seeing things.”

“It’s gotta be it!”

Yoongi furrows his brows as you scroll back up to the navigation, not sure if he fully believes in this explanation. “What’s an Agent of Chaos anyway?”

“I guess they like… cause mayhem for fun? I don’t know, the description said something about pleasing a patron that they get their powers from.”

“Like a god?”

The thought makes him uneasy. If a god of chaos exists then surely there are more out there. If gods exist but they do nothing to balance out the cosmic injustices of the universe, are they really gods or more like demons? He feels like he’s about to have a full meltdown over something he can’t understand or control.

“Maybe. It doesn’t describe them at all. But…” You give him a reassuring smirk. “It does give instructions on how to trap an Agent. We just need a little more space and some chalk. We’ll draw him out, trap him, then make him undo his magic. What do we have to lose?”

His heart feels lighter when you look at him so softly. “Makes it sound simple when you say it like that. Also, slightly insane.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The website was very lax on defining the ‘discordant energy’ needed to summon the agent, so the pair of you have been improvising. Yoongi suggested moving into the store for the space you needed, but you have a feeling he’s just anxious about it being closed for the day. It’s fine. You don’t want to constantly be thinking about the sex neither of you are acknowledging right now. Yoongi is brushing his teeth after drinking a bottle of orange juice.

You grimace at him. “You really think that’s gonna do it?”

He stops mid-brush, his mouth full of foam and garbling his words. “It’s better than doing nothing. How are you helping?”

You give the sunglasses rack a slow spin. “I drew the sigil on the floor. If we’re gonna trap him we need to be ready. Were you able to find anything else?”

He clicks on your laptop a few times before hurrying into the back room. He reappears a moment later, wiping at his mouth. “That was gross.”

You watch him concentrate on the screen, trying to forget the way it felt to kiss him everywhere he would let you. It’s hard to focus on the task at hand when there’s this feeling lingering in your uneasy stomach. Are you doomed to never speak of the things that made your heart flutter?

“ A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say .”

You tell yourself you imagined those words, that you wished them into existence. You turn the rack of cheap sunglasses again. Even if you knew what you were looking for, you wouldn’t find it with the way your mind is wandering. You look back at Yoongi, debating whether or not you should speak up about the uncertainty in your gut.

“Keepsake!” he says excitedly, running out from behind the counter. “It says they often leave something behind so they can return to observe their work.”

His sudden movement makes you jump and loudly smack your hand against the stand in a panicked attempt to look inconspicuous. He pauses to look at you and raises an eyebrow but you’re already laser-focused on the rack again. Desperate to hide your growing embarrassment you pluck a pair of sunglasses that is strikingly similar to the ones you’d seen the man wearing that day.

As soon as you put them on you inhale sharply. “What the fuck?”

“Hmm?” Yoongi wonders. “What is it?”

“There’s something written… on the fridge.”

“What? Where?”

You lift the glasses up to be sure you can’t see the letters scrawled on the glass without them. The message disappears. Once you place them back on the bridge of your nose they practically glow, beckoning you towards them. You push past him on your way to the drinks section. “Here. It says… Now you have… specs appeal?”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? It was a solid pun.”

The pair of you look towards the sound of the stranger’s voice. Instead of forming words you exclaim a sound of surprise. He looks confused.

“You’re going to need to speak clearly. I’m not sure I understand your language.”

“You! You did this!” you shriek, taking a step forward.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the man says with a puff of his cheeks. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It’s not nice to accuse people of things. Have I done anything? Are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

A haze of golden dust spreads across the room like twinkling stars. As you blink and rub at your eyes you yawn and feel a sudden urge to lay down.

“Mmm. I am sleepy…” you admit as you sink to your knees.

Yoongi looks down at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You laugh and lazily grapple with his leg. “Come lay down. Please? It’s made out of feathers.”

Yoongi watches you close your eyes. Suddenly your body falls limp at his feet. He crouches down to cradle your face in his hands, your name an urgent plea on his lips. “Y/N. Y/N wake up.” He pinches your cheek but you don’t respond.

“She wants this to be a dream. Don’t you?” The man takes a few casual steps forward.

“No, I don’t,” Yoongi growls. The threat sounds odd coming from this body, tone too meek to pass for intimidating. He glares at the man after reluctantly tearing his eyes from your sleeping form. It may be his body on the floor there, but you’re trapped inside it. “Wake her up.”

“She’s tired!”

Yoongi rises to his feet and shields your unconscious form as the man creeps closer. “Don’t take another step. You’re going to regret it.”

“Threatening me? Hah… You’re pretty bold, considering you’re not really in a bargaining position. Spunky! I’ll give you that. Say, I’m curious. What do you think I am anyway? I’ve got a bet going and I know I’m gonna win because I’m right, but I need proof. So if you wouldn’t mind speaking into this...”

Out of his pocket comes a microphone. He holds it out like he’s giving the most intense interview of his life as he awaits Yoongi’s response.

“You’re… Some kind of trickster.”

The man sucks his teeth and shoves the microphone back in his pocket. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. So much for my bet… Come on. Don’t you think I look more like a god?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you work for one,” Yoongi muses, “but you sure aren’t one.”

“Wooooow….” The man sighs in disbelief. “The disrespect! At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that. I— ”

The stranger’s body seizes up as he takes another step forward. ”Ow!” His body convulses for a second before he regains his faculties. He looks down to find the sigil scrawled in chalk around his feet. Try as he might to scrape the markings off with his heel, his shoes are unable to scuff the powder. He furrows his brows and throws his hands in the air.

“Really? Are you kidding me? An integrity prison? Where did you learn this?”

Holy fucking shit. It worked, Yoongi thinks. He’s never been more relieved in his life.

“Wake her up,” he repeats calmly.

“I was gonna,” the man pouts, slumping into a cross-legged sit. “But now I really don’t want to. Would it kill you to have manners? Look at this. You’ve put me in a difficult little pickle here.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a jar full of dill pickles. He fishes one out and takes a loud, crunchy bite. “I was just having a little fun and now I’m stuck here, doomed to this ugly little space.”

Yoongi crosses his arms, quickly losing patience. “Stop being dramatic.”

The man glowers at him and crunches on the last bit of the pickle with slow, loud chewing.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh. “Please, stop being dramatic.”

With a surprised nod, the man gulps down the pickle and hops to his feet. “Well, you said please, at least. Was that really such a big... dill?”

Right as Yoongi groans, the man snaps his fingers and flexes his pointers into finger-guns. You immediately yawn and sit up.

“What happened?” you mumble.

Yoongi offers you a hand and you take it, rising to unsteady feet. He wraps a hand around your waist to support your weight. “You took a nap but you didn’t miss much. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, the haze lifting from your sleepy eyelids. You gasp as your eyes focus on the man trapped between the center aisles. “Huh! We got him!”

“Yeah, yeah. Time to celebrate. You trapped me. Good job.” The sarcasm in his tone is evident, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Confetti falls from above your heads, showering the pair of you in glitter and shiny streamers with the flick of his wrist. “Now let me out.”

You’re blown away by the bizarre moment, springing forward and out of Yoongi’s grasp. “Magic? Then, are you really… a god?”

The man pats his pockets frantically. “Finally! Someone with a sense for my greatness! Ugh! I should have been recording. Damn! Where’s my microphone?”

“Gods don’t get trapped with chalk,” Yoongi says, folding his arms and tapping his toe impatiently. “This guy is an underling. Hey! Don’t get too close!”

Your mouth hangs agape in awe as you approach the man. Scrutiny must be new for him because he seems stunned. That wide-eyed expression is erased quickly enough when he strikes a heroic pose, planting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. His pecs and shoulders seem to inflate when he inhales, causing them to swell into well-defined muscles.

“Oh.” You blink a few times, entranced by the sudden transformation. You reach your hand out as if to touch the meaty bicep practically bulging from his sleeve. “Who… What... are you, really?”

“Y/N!” Yoongi’s hands enclose around your waist, pulling you back into him just as your hand is about to break the barrier.

The man’s muscles deflate with his held breath as he bursts into a fit of squeaky laughter. “Oh! I almost had you!” He wheezes a squeaky sound through his inhale that you can only guess is laughter. He clears his throat. “My name is Jin. Matchmaker…” He holds up two matches in his hands and sets them alight with a flick of his wrist.

“Lover...” He winks and the matches disappear. In their stead are two roses. He tosses them at the two of you but when you go to catch yours it disintegrates.

Yoongi catches the disappointment on your face and thrusts the flower towards you, hoping it will restore the shine to your eyes. You give him a big, cheesy smile as you dust glitter from his hair.

“Ah… And! Balancing agent…” He stands on one foot as a seesaw appears to lift him into the air. He jumps down triumphantly with a bow. “At your service.”

You clap enthusiastically until you look over at Yoongi, who looks less than amused. You then nudge him with your elbow until he gives a solitary clap.

“What’s a balancing agent?” Yoongi asks dryly.

“We restore balance to the world. Things that are too uniform need a little chaos. Things that are too chaotic need to be put back into line. In our down time we like to have fun in our own ways. Me? I like to set people up.”

“So you’re not an Agent of Chaos?” you ask, disappointed that the conspiracy theorist page that led you to this point isn’t exactly the fountain of knowledge you had hoped for. There’s so much you don’t know.

Jin looks at you, clearly confused. “I mean some people call me Cupid, but I guess you can call me that. Has a nice ring to it. My powers are more inclined for chaos.”

“Cupid?”

“What? I’m a romantic. I can see the strings of fate! Also I may have a penchant for mischief, but that’s neither here—” He points at his feet. “Nor there!” He points at the shelf beside you which causes a bag of chips to burst, sending its contents everywhere.

“Hey!” Yoongi yells. “Are you going to pay for those?”

“Yoongi…”

“What?”

You can tell he’s irritated but clearly this guy can do a lot more than pop a bag of chips from across the room. You don’t want to fall on the bad side of his magic but you don’t exactly trust Yoongi’s mouth to keep you in Jin’s good graces.

“Stop being rude,” you whisper through clenched teeth.

He scoffs and answers you in a hushed tone. “How am I rude? He’s making a mess!”

“Then we’ll ask him to unmake it.” Your irritation heightens the volume of your voice to the point where it’s barely a whisper anymore.

“He’s playing with us. I’m through asking.”

“Yoongi.”

“Y/N.”

Jin laughs. “See, this is what I mean. Fate is practically screaming for me to help you. Chaos is just an added bonus for this boring town.”

You both look at him and ask in unison, “What?”

He points to the both of you. “Look.”

As you turn back to face Yoongi you’re shocked to see a pale blue orb glowing above his head. “Huh? What’s that?” You reach out to touch it but your hand passes through it without any change.

“You have one too,” he mumbles, squinting at the way a thin line seems to stem from it. Then he sees another. And another. It looks like a shiny, glittering web that splinters into a thousand different directions. His brows furrow as he inspects the tiny threads. “Do you see them?”

Your gaze follows his pointer and suddenly you can see the branching strands too, not just yours, but his as well. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming. It’s terrifying. Seeing the trepidation written on your face he silently beckons your attention to his finger, which is pointing to a thread that is golden instead of a pale blue hue. It’s the only one of its kind in the intricate glittering lattice between the two of you. You follow his pointer as it traces the path that stems from your orb until it gets closer to his and then you take over, finishing the path with your finger to the point where his orb engulfs the line.

“What is it?” you wonder aloud.

“A string of fate,” Jin answers with a wistful sigh. “It’s always exciting to see one, isn’t it? It means you’re soulmates.”

“Hah. Bullshit,” Yoongi responds, waving the air with his hands as if to disrupt the strings. They remain intact. “You just like causing mischief.”

Jin puffs his cheeks and scowls. “I can lie about a lot of things, but the strings aren’t one of them,” he huffs. “Why would I need to do that? What’s more unpredictable than true love slapping you in the face?”

He makes a motion with his fingers and sweeps them towards Yoongi.The compulsion rises and you’re powerless to stop it. Your hand moves of its own accord and lightly slaps Yoongi across the face. He looks betrayed as he rubs his cheek.

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t me!”

The tingle in your arm causes it to move back towards him in a gentle swoop. Your wrist is limp as it smacks into his chin and rubs back and forth as if to comfort him. Jin bursts into a fit of laughter as he breaks the compulsion.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, stomping up towards the circle around the stranger. “Just change us back and you can go on causing problems elsewhere.”

“I can’t,” Jin answers simply, crossing his arms. “The charm will break only under specific conditions.”

“And those are?”

Jin shrugs with his bottom lip protruding as he frowns. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Of course it is.” Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back towards you.

“There are some things you can try. Staples of the trade.” Jin notes some dirt beneath his fingernails and begins cleaning them. “Number one. Have you tried talking about your feelings?”

Yoongi’s gaze settles on yours and it’s like you can feel your heart stop. Say something. You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t come so you snap your jaw shut and stare at the glitter on the floor.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yoongi says as he folds his arms across his chest, trying to not get distracted by the breasts he inadvertently touches. He decides to drop his hands to his hips instead.

Jin rolls his eyes. “Okaaaay... Number two is filling the chaos meter. Go crazy. Do the unexpected.”

“I don’t know what we’d do,” Yoongi admits, pacing around the circle.

“What if we kissed?” The voice is soft and sweet.

He turns to face you, a combination platter of surprise and confusion. “But we did.”

“Reeeeally?”

Jin’s laughter makes him feel like a fool. He was convinced you said it, despite knowing your voice is not your own right now. How stupid could he be, walking right into that? He squeezes his eyes shut a moment and then focuses his attention on the captive.

While Yoongi is distracted you’re working a pack of mentos out of their packaging. You kneel down and twist the cap off one of the liters of cola placed on the endcap you. The hiss of the carbonation makes Yoongi shift attention.

Your name on his lips is half a warning, half a question loaded with uncertainty. You open another bottle beside it before he can get close enough and drop mentos into each. The liquid erupts into two fizzy fountains that reach the ceiling and spill back down to the floor. Yoongi takes off his hat and grips his hair like he wants to tear it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Filling the meter?” you answer meekly with a shug, stepping back from the puddle on the floor.

Jin roars with laughter. “Oh man. There is no meter, but that was delightful.”

Yoongi grumbles and goes back to the counter, grabbing the laptop and sinking down behind it to hide from the pandemonium of this situation.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter as you pass Jin. You quickly sit next to Yoongi on the floor.

“It was a joke!” Jin calls. “Come on, don’t leave me alone here.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as his fingers rapidly tap the keys. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know.”

“What are you looking for?” you whisper.

Yoongi listens for a minute to the grumbling of the man trapped in the circle nearby. “How to trick a trickster. I have a feeling we need him to undo it but he won’t come out and say it.”

You sigh and press your chin against his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

He looks over and tips his head down to nuzzle his cheek against you. “I know.”

“Huh?” Your vision diverts to a shiny blue can beside him. “Are you serious?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” He picks it up and quickly downs the last sip, the Hot6 Logo shining back at you in mockery. “I found it earlier and needed a pick-me-up.”

“Did you find more?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

“But…” you pout. “I wanted it.”

He holds the empty can out to you. “It’s grown on me.”

“I’m about to die without the sweet taste,” you whine, shaking the can to make sure there’s nothing left.

“You’re so obnoxious.”

He rolls his eyes and cups your jaw, leaning in to press his lips against yours. You don’t protest when he dips his tongue past your lips to rub against yours. You can taste remnants of the drink on his tongue. If Hot6 wasn’t your favorite drink before this, it is now.

“Better?”

“Maybe. Still not sweet enough.” You giggle.

He takes the opportunity to kiss you again, crushing your mouth against his in a deeper kiss. You’re practically melting into him as his tongue glides against yours, moving in a rhythm that you now crave. It’s so easy to forget everything else, where you are, what’s happened to you. He moves to straddle your lap, grinding down intentionally as he grips the back of your neck. He knows you’re half-hard already and fuck if he doesn’t just want to have you again. You’re the only thing that feels real right now.

He pulls down the zipper of the hoodie you’ve given him to allow access to his neck. It’s not until he allows you to latch onto the sensitive flesh there, with his hands buried in your hair, that he notices the security mirror. You’re so hot. He wants to be in you so badly but he’ll settle for you being in him right now.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

Suddenly he notices the other person in the mirror. Jin is sitting cross-legged on the floor in his invisible prison, resting his chin on a hand as he stares back through the reflection with eyebrows raised. Yoongi quickly clears his throat and climbs off of you. You blink in confusion at the disruption until he points at the mirror and then you cast your gaze at the floor.

“We should take care of this.” He runs his fingers through his hair to compose himself before placing the cap back on his head and focusing his attention back on the computer.

“Wow, you almost went there with me watching. That would have done it for sure,” Jin says, breaking into a grin.

“Come on!” you shriek, popping up from behind the counter. “Please, just change us back.”

“I told you. I can’t,” he repeats firmly. “I actually don’t lie as often as you seem to think I do. Maybe you should try having sex. They say the soul leaves your body for an instant when you reach the finish line, you know. It can’t hurt. Ohhhh wait a minute...”

He jumps to his feet after watching the guilt flash across your face. Your eyes seem to dart around him, but never land close enough to his. Blood rushes through your ears, drowning out all the sounds that aren’t your heartbeat.

He smiles wickedly. “Oh my god, you already did. I mean, I get it. Who wouldn’t be curious? It’s only human to wonder. Oh, to be human… Seriously, have you tried talking about your feelings?”

You turn towards Yoongi and crouch back on the floor, disappearing from Jin’s view. He steps on his tiptoes to try and see around the counter before settling back on the security mirror. You can’t help but focus on his nosiness.

“Yoongi. I... Look. Can we go in the back? I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Jin clicks his tongue and sighs as the pair of you cross the store and slip into the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’ You breathe a sigh of relief when Yoongi locks the heavy door behind you. He bites at his nails--your nails as he waits for you to say whatever you need to. You take his hands into yours.

“Things are weird right now and not just because of this,” you hold up his hands in yours. “Are you regretting everything now?”

He smirks and gives you a small laugh. He slinks away to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t regret anything. I mean what I said. I care about you. I just… I get embarrassed, I guess.”

He’s embarrassed? You didn’t think he was capable with how blunt he normally is. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m insecure. Sexy, right?”

Time seems to slow as he draws near. There’s a lighthearted laugh on his lips before they meet yours. It feels like the first time all over again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you throw your arms around his neck, desperate to get closer even though you’re already pressed up against each other. You lean into him as you gasp in his hot breaths between kisses. To counteract the weight you’ve pressed against him, he pushes you backwards. Your arms fly back to catch yourself as you stumble but you knock into a freestanding shelving unit. Cans of soup clatter to the floor and roll off in various directions as Yoongi steadies the rack to keep it from falling.

He sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder in defeat. “We should focus.”

You whimper and will yourself to move the pair of you away from the wire rack. You run your fingers through your hair and attempt to compose yourself. Everything feels like a dream. It’s hard to think with him consuming the majority of your thoughts. You clear your throat, hoping your mind will also clear with the action.

“Hey,” he says, fingers on the latch. He pauses to lock eyes with you. “It might have seemed like the heat of the moment, but I really mean what I said. So tell me you’ll stick around after this is done?”

You run up and lace your fingers in his free hand before giving it a firm squeeze. “Promise.”

As he opens the door Jin jumps like you’ve startled him with your presence. “Whoa, I thought maybe you’d murdered one another. I heard a loud bang.” His gaze drops to your entwined hands. “What? Did you finally embrace destiny?”

“Destiny. No destiny. It doesn’t matter,” Yoongi says calmly as he squeezes your hand. “This could all be a dream. But we’re here now. We care about each other in this moment. That’s real. That matters.”

Jin does a slow clap while grinning from ear-to-ear. “Wow! It usually takes people a few days, maybe a week!” He looks at his wrist as though he’s wearing an invisible watch. “It’s been, what, a day? You did good.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help us now?” You perk up immediately.

“I mean I think you’ve helped yourselves. You look happy. You’re comfortable, right? Can’t you just let me go and keep existing like this?”

When he’s met with silence he sighs. “Ahh, well there is one more thing you can do, I guess. Have you tried checking your pockets?”

His suggestion is met with eyerolls from the both of you. While nonsensical, the unexpected has become a staple of your current state of existence and you feel you owe it to yourself to at least entertain the possibility. Your fingers slip into your pocket and explore the ridges of the hard object nestled against the fabric. Excitement courses through you as you pull your half of the locket from the confines of your sweatpants. Dumbfounded, Yoongi sticks a finger into his tight jeans and fishes the other half of the necklace out of his pocket.

“Hah, I can’t believe you didn’t even look,” Jin says with a laugh. “Now put them on, place the pieces together and say ‘Me Hoy Nimoy.’”

You exchange a skeptical look with Yoongi but you both comply and blurt the phrase soon after linking the pieces of the necklace together. You hold your breath, waiting for something spectacular to happen but disappointment soon floods your lungs. Just as you’re about to speak up, Jin clicks his tongue.

“Ah, close your eyes. It won’t work if you’re watching.”

Yoongi grumbles. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Hey, some magic is shy. Follow the rules. Do you think I’m just making this all up?” he pouts.

Your answer comes in unison with Yoongi’s: “Yes.”

Jin looks hurt as he clutches a hand over his heart and staggers backwards. “Woooooow. Well, just do one more thing then. ”

A devilish grin soon replaces the expression and his squeaky laughter fills up the store. He points at the pair of you with both fingers and wags his fingers in circles. You feel compelled to turn in place. Yoongi matches the uneasiness in your gut with the panic in his eyes. You both spin in circles away from one another. Once. Twice. Three times. Just as you’re about to complain about the nausea churning fresh waves in your belly, Jin waves his hands inwards.

You’re lifted into the air. The toes of your sneakers leave behind squeaky skidmarks of rubber on the tile as the pair of you are dragged forward. Jin cocks his head to one side and examines you with an expression of stone. For a split second you’re terrified but then he breaks into a grin and snaps his fingers. His thumbs and index fingers form the shape of a heart as he holds them out and you drop to the floor.

Yoongi reaches out for your shoulder. There’s a soft tremble to his fingers as he pulls you close to him. When you look upon his visage you can already see his jaw transforming, a thin stubble growing in along its perimeter. Every time you close your eyes to blink more of his face has morphed back into his own. You look down at your own fingers and watch as the nails narrow and elongate. A glossy pink hue returns to them but the polish looks slightly less finished with the way Yoongi has gnawed on the edges all day.

Suddenly Yoongi is frantically scrambling to his feet, kicking off his shoes and working the zipper down on his jeans. Everything is quickly growing far too tight. The hoodie you’d given him just barely covers his crotch as he stands up straight. He looks over at you with a relieved sigh and cups your jaw.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your chin. It takes all of your self-control to keep from licking it as it grazes your lip.

You nod, eyes falling to the necklace dangling over his sweatshirt. As soon as you reach out to yank it off, the trinket disappears in a puff of purple smoke with a clap of Jin’s hands. He holds them in place like a silent prayer just below his chin, a strained smile staining his face just above his fingers.

“So, here’s the thing. I’m gonna need you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Fix my store first. Clean up this mess you’ve caused,” Yoongi says while taking a step in front of you.

Jin’s bottom lip protrudes into a pout as he eyes the puddle of cola on the floor. “I didn’t do that,” he complains under his breath.

It’s incredible how close he came to freedom, incredible and frustrating. His magic may not be able to touch or alter the circle, but you almost freed him with your ignorance. If the liquid had run close enough to seep into the chalk, he would be somewhere far more sunny and beachy right now. He’s earned a vacation for this milestone of success.

“Fiiiine,” he concedes.

With a snap of his fingers the store is spotless once more. While Yoongi inspects the area of the tile floor previously coated in cola and glitter, you glide your foot over the circle of chalk and break the seal that binds Jin to his current location.

“Finally…” he sighs, side-stepping out from the invisible barrier. “You’re welcome, by the way. Invite me to the wedding, okay? Don’t forget the little people who helped you on the way. As for me... I’ve got a date with the pearly beaches of Accord.”

He swirls his wrist in the air and the pair of ugly red mirrored sunglasses appear on his nose just in time for him to adjust them. He lowers the specs to give you a wink before snapping his fingers. Before you can even call out for him to wait, he’s gone in a puff of purple smoke that quickly dissipates. You’re left in stunned silence to contemplate your existence.

What are you supposed to make of everything?

As you stand there on the cusp of a mental breakdown, soft, velvety petals brush against your cheek to steal your attention. The scent of the flower overtakes your senses as Yoongi uses it to tickle your nose. You find him smiling back at you, almost like he’s too shy to speak, but then he does.

“Weird day huh? Can I have my pants back?”

You hum thoughtfully, making sure the shutters of the shop are still shielding you both from the outside world. “Would you mind if I wanted to get back in them later?”

He snorts, holding back a laugh. “Been waiting to use that all day?”

“No, I just thought of it right now. Aren’t I impressive?” you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him. You shimmy out of the sweatpants and leave them pooled on the floor, doing your best to walk past him with grace and seduction.

“So impressive.”

He offers an amused laugh when you bend over to pick up the garments he was so quick to discard when his transformation reverted. You spare a glance behind you to see if he’s looking at the way you so blatantly flaunt your ass. He’s in the middle of dragging his bottom lip through his teeth when your eyes steal his attention.

“Something wrong?” A wicked grin belies your innocent tone.

He exhales a long breath and shakes his head, turning his attention to pulling his pants up. “Impressive isn’t the word. You’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying you wanna make out?”

He’s quiet as he takes off the remainder of your clothes to reveal a muscular chest riddled with goosebumps. It’s hard to hide how your grin spreads wider as he approaches with them in hand. You’ve had dreams like this: he’s shirtless, asking you to take off your clothes so he can fuck you in his store. Right here with your tits against the cold glass of the fridge. It would be a dirty secret only the two of you would know and you’d think about it every time you’d come in for your energy drink.

You slowly lift the hoodie from your own body, trying to appear as alluring as possible. You make sure to arch your back as your breasts briefly catch in the fabric and then drop against your ribs, completely exposed to the chilly air. Much to your dismay he’s quick to spin away from you and mutters a “thanks” instead of naughtier offers.

He’s aware you might mistake it for rejection, but he’s hoping you don’t see the way his fingers tremble. It’s incredible how scared he feels being back in his own skin. The intimacy of your connection left a void behind that’s quickly filling with disquiet. He feels incomplete without a piece of you with him, lost in the vast emptiness of himself. How can he feel such need for you? His chest aches with the possibility that he won’t ever feel whole again. The bravery that possessed him while piloting your body has waned. Now that normalcy is somewhat restored, he has the chance to start processing the events of the day. A part of him begins to embrace the panic he’d previously pushed down and his confession replays in his mind as though he’s just spoken it.

It was a bold move, especially given the situation. It could have ended horribly. He puffs out his cheeks and holds his breath, trying to remind himself that it didn’t. It’s okay to let go of the anxiety over it, but he still feels so uncertain. Even turned away from you and fully clothed, he’s never felt more exposed and vulnerable. He tries to hide the burning of his ears by running his fingers through his hair and shielding them with his arms. He has to bring himself back or else you’ll be talking him down from a panic attack and he doesn’t want you to see him like that.

Stupid. Stop throwing yourself at him. You struggle to put on the tight clothing as quickly as possible. Tears threaten to fall as you awkwardly wiggle your jeans back and forth up your thighs and over the swell of your ass. You make sure to swipe at the corners of your eyes before clearing your throat to signify you’re fully changed. He spins to face you but everything he means to say gets lost on the way to his mouth. He freezes, overwhelmed by how beautiful you are even in this shitty lighting, and how thankful he is to be able to see you through his own eyes.

His heart pounds at the confines of his chest like it needs to burst from within. There’s a small burst of adrenaline that plumes from the explosion of butterflies in his stomach. It fills him with the courage he needs to close the distance between you with a kiss, the kind of kiss he’s been dreaming of giving you for months. Right here in this store.

He loves how eager you are to reciprocate when he tangles his fingers in your hair. He holds you there like you’re about to melt away in a puff of smoke. Your lips are so soft, so sweet, so warm pressing against his. His tongue rolls over yours, desperate to keep tasting and feeling more. You grasp behind his neck and dig your fingernails into his shoulder as he deepens the kiss. When you roll your hips towards him as a subtle test for determining his hardness, you can feel him smile against your lips.

“Not in the store.” He gives you one more chaste kiss and pulls back just enough to allow you both to breathe. He adjusts one of the boxes on the nearby shelves. “You already drive me crazy. If we do it here I’m going to be thinking about it every time I’m stocking shelves.”

“Yoongi…” you whine. “Please tell me you’re keeping it closed for the day.”

He sighs as he plucks his phone from the counter to check the time. “Might as well.”

“Can I walk you home?” You chew on your lip as you wait for his response. What you wouldn’t give to spend the night with him.

Unable to hide the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he nods his head towards the exit. “Why would we waste our time?”

Your heart sinks into your butt, thinking this must be it. He changed his mind after all. He hates you. There’s no doubt about it now. All you can manage is a squeaky, “Hmm?”

He rests his palm on the handle of the door and he presses his lips into a thin line, looking wide eyed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so adorably hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. “You live closer.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The comforter at your back is soft and cool to the touch as you scramble to settle yourself against the pillows. Yoongi wastes no time wiggling off his sweatpants and climbing over you. The sound of your panting mingles with his as he hovers above you with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. If the hurried ascent up the stairs wasn’t enough to have him gasping for air, the makeout session just inside your front door definitely has him devoid of oxygen. This still feels like a dream, but it’s one he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.

"How do you want it?" he whispers. He glides a finger up your thigh and lightly traces circles around your labia.

Your mind travels back to your earlier experience of coming undone and suddenly your stomach is doing flips.

"Just like this," you answer. "I want to feel you just like this. Do you remember where to touch?"

He nods, skimming his parted lips over yours while he places his finger over the hood of your clit. "Like this, right?"

"More pressure," you plead, working your hips in circles to coach his movements.

He does as you instruct and clamps his mouth over yours in a futile attempt to find relief for the aching need to be inside of you. He grinds himself against your side, his cock rubbing against your soft, heated skin as he tries to remember the exact motions needed to elicit enough pleasure to make you cum. He doesn't have to wait long until frenzied, weak moans are vibrating against his mouth so he turns his attention to your neck. He wants to hear how fucked out you are. He wants to hear how badly you want to cum. He wants to feel you pulse around his fingers.

As he plunges a thick finger deep into your cunt, a pathetic, desperate sound escapes you. "Oh, fuck."

"Feel good?" he mumbles into the hollow space between your neck and shoulder.

"Please. Please. Please. Please," you whimper incoherently, bucking your hips to meet each thrust of his finger. You can feel his cock rutting against your side and all you can do is imagine that he's pumping it into you instead of his fingers. "Oh fuck, Yoongi."

His lips twitch into a smile as he feels you tighten around his finger. He kisses your neck and sinks a second finger carefully inside you. You allow your head to fall against the pillow and bite your lip to try to contain the drawn out needy groan already helplessly spilling out of you. So close. Your back arches off the mattress and he wishes he wasn't so concentrated on the motions of his hands right now because he would absolutely love to be tonguing your perfect tits.

He pants against your skin and looks at them longingly. Maybe he can manage it? He's determined to use what he's learned about your body to help you cum, but not yet. You can't help but whine at the loss as he repositions himself, which breaks the sightline you had on your orgasm.

"Yoooongi... I was close..." You whimper when he abandons your cunt entirely to press your tits together. His mouth is hot as it clamps down on your nipple, giving the peak a hard suck before dragging it through his teeth.

"I know. Wanna make you cum with my tongue," he murmurs into the supple flesh.

He swipes his fingers along your cunt and swirls the wetness over your clit before bringing it to his mouth. You can already see how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. The low moan that rumbles its way from his throat has you rocking your hips up against his pelvis as he settles between your legs. Your silent grinding isn't enough of a confirmation. He wants to hear you say it.

"Can I go down on you?" He blurts the shameless question while alternating between kissing both of your breasts and only pauses to meet your eyes.

You want to feel him everywhere but mostly you want his mouth on yours while he’s balls deep inside you. You don’t even care if you cum because being with him like this feels good. Being with him fills your heart with giddy hope and your stomach with butterflies. Being with him is enough. You want to tell him that but instead you nod and whimper out a pathetic “please.”

He wastes no time dipping his head down between your thighs to press the flat of his tongue against your clit. A low growl escapes with his exhale before he puckers his lips to kiss the soft skin and breathe in the heavy scent of your arousal. You’d be embarrassed if his tongue didn’t feel so magical. It glides against you so effortlessly, bringing pleasure with every quick flick against you.

Your hands dive into his hair and you start rolling your hips to grind his face harder against you. He doesn't seem to mind though. In fact he seems to embrace the motion, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you in as closely as possible. If you weren't so preoccupied with the orgasm building just below the surface of the place where his tongue keeps hitting then you might worry that he's suffocating himself. Right now all you can focus on is the pleasure threatening to break you open and leave you spilling a million curses into the air around you.

"Yoongi. Fuck. I'm close," you warn, as if the frantic way you've twirled his hair around each of your fingers isn't enough to tip him off. Do you really think he can't feel the shaking of your thighs in this moment?

He hums a sound like he doesn't hear you, but he doesn't let up at all. He keeps his pace steady for you as you approach your end once again. Your nails scratch against his scalp but he doesn't mind. He actually really likes the way you're losing your mind over the simple things he's doing with his tongue right now. He can't even begin to imagine the pretty sounds that might spew from your lips with practiced effort but he knows he can't wait to hear them.

Suddenly your hand flies up to pound the wall behind you and you announce the wave of pleasure coursing through your clit through the use of a loud string of expletives. He can feel the way your flesh pulses beneath his tongue and he revels in it. You ride his face so well. You can ride it for as long as you want as often as you want. He wants to tell you that but he also wants you to ride out your high for as long as it lasts, so he lets you buck your hips and raise your cunt off the bed. He lets you thrash around through the sensitivity until you're finally pushing his face off with both hands.

"Good? Do you need more?" he verifies, rising from between your legs to deliver a messy, wet kiss to your lips. He smirks through it, knowing he really doesn't need to ask at all to know the answer.

"Cheeky fuck," you murmur, not bothering to even attempt to hide your matching grin against him. "I need it."

"What do you need?" His fingers trail a soft line down your side, reminding you that his teasing nature is simply a front for his caring heart.

"I need you inside me." Your breathing is spotty as you pepper kisses along his jaw. "Like this. I want you to feel me the way I felt you."

It doesn't take long until you're tasting yourself on his lips again. He shifts slightly and you know he's lining himself up with your entrance when you feel the swollen tip of his fat cock nudging at your hole. He's slow to thrust into you. In fact he stills, only giving you shallow, teasing thrusts. He favors letting you wiggle down just a little bit to coax him in. He smiles against your lips and pushes in further, giving you that stretch you were hoping for.

When you suck in a sharp breath he pulls out, but as soon as you whine in protest, he's already carefully moving to slide it back in. The slow stretch has your jaw dropping open and he takes the opportunity to bite on your lower lip. You take the bait and feed him hungry kisses until he’s completely buried inside of your tight cunt. He takes a moment to growl a low sound that has you clenching around him.

“So tight,” he whispers, pausing to curl an arm beneath your head.

He presses the back of your hand against the mattress as he twines his fingers with yours. He drives himself deeper into you with each slow thrust and it feels like he still can’t get close enough. So you raise your other arm above you and angle it until you’re linking your fingers with the ones beneath your head. You kiss his cheek and savor the intimate moment.

When he lazily sinks into your cunt again you crack a smile. “Can't you fuck me harder than that?"

"Mmm." He lifts his head and seems to accept your challenge. His hips pull out slowly and suddenly slam back into you. This sets a new fervent pace that has you squeezing both of his hands. "What do you think? Is this better?"

You do little to actually answer his question and instead offer a slew of swears and moans each time his balls slap against your ass. "Shit. Fuck, fuck fuck. Yoongi..."

"What kind of answer is that?" he asks innocently.

"God, your cock..."

"Mhm," he prods.

"Feels so good, Yoon."

He chuckles. "Yoon... Cute."

"I'll show you cute," you huff.

"Oh?"

You release his hands in favor of pressing your palms against his chest. He pulls out and before you can miss the way he fills you, you're flipping him down on the mattress. You swing a leg over his pelvis and straddle him. It takes you a moment to properly position yourself. You give his length a few pumps in your hand before lining it up with your entrance.

"Careful," he warns, planting his hands on your thighs. "Don't wear yourself out."

You sink down quicker than you probably should. You're eager to make him cum faster than he did for you. The wetness in your core seeps down in translucent trails down your inner thighs. Your own brand of lubricant seems to be enough to keep the stretch pleasurable. Yoongi bites his lip as he gazes down at the way you're bouncing on his cock. You know how good it feels for him, especially with how hard your pussy is squeezing him.

"Don't worry about me."

The sensory overload building in your gut coated with the memory of the unique experience. It mixes with the high threatening to burn its way from your core. You take a deep breath and exhale loudly before you continue. You revel in a slow descent, memorizing every kind of way the stroke makes you feel. Then you begin to quickly draw him in and out of your cunt. The obscene sounds of wet, rapid slapping fill the room.

After a few minutes you've finally got a good rhythm down. Despite the cramp throbbing down your obliques, he's hitting that sweet spot inside you at just the right angle. If you didn't know any better you'd think you're about to cum again. You steady yourself on his chest and trail your hand to his stomach to maintain your balance. Trying to keep the unrealistic pace you'd previously set for yourself is proving difficult, but you swear you're feeling like maybe you're about to crest into the biggest climax of your life. Then again, it could certainly be the biggest letdown now that you're aware of it. Your orgasms have left you for less.

Yoongi knots his eyebrows together in concentration and he reaches down to rub circles against your clit. His fingers are clumsy and new to this angle but they're feather light. He can see in your face that you're chasing some great new high and he just wants to help you achieve it without overdoing it. He knows how shy your cunt is about giving you orgasms so he really wants to do it right. Is this right? He figures you'll tell him if it isn't.

You moan weakly in response. Suddenly, you know it's coming. You can feel it building every time his hips slap up to meet yours. "Oh my fuck."

His abdominal muscles flex beneath your palm and he forces his breaths through his nose as he struggles to keep himself composed. Your cunt is squeezing him so tightly that he knows he's on the brink of his own release but he's determined to help you feel as good as you make him feel.

"That's it. Cum for me again." He tries to coax it with those strong pleas, but his voice is broken with an inhale sharp enough to cut his words.

Both of your thighs are coated in slick sweat. You don't think you've ever felt so fucking wet in your life. He glistens just as much in the dim light so you know between the two of you there's a puddle of sweat soaking your sheets. It's easy to forget how gross or embarrassing it is when the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so well. Right now the only thing that matters is getting relief for this pressure building behind your clit.

Despite the shakiness of his fingers, he's able to coax it out of you. Your trembling thighs feel like an earthquake that's finally reached its peak tremor and you find yourself crying out and bouncing to the rhythm of your spasming cunt. You chant your praises and curses in the same breath. His name is a drawn out breathy expression of gratitude and bliss. As soon as you slump forward to kiss him he takes your hands in his own and frantically pumps himself up into you. He can still feel the involuntary flex of your cunt even after you've clearly expended every ounce of your energy reaching and literally riding out your second orgasm.

"Can I cum inside?" he asks between frantic breaths.

"Well, you're not gonna make it to these tits," you tease with a smirk. You may be spent but you'll always have the energy to give him shit. "Do it."

"So fuckin hot," he mumbles against your lips.

The muffled grunts expelled against your mouth and the slow, deliberate snap of his hips leave you in a state of surreal euphoria. He squeezes your hands in his along with his release to let you know this is real. You're here with him. When he comes down from his high he kisses you gently one more time and pulls back to look at you. You take the break in physical connection to roll off of him and stretch out your aching calves and let the air from the fan cool your skin. The tingling in your legs tells you not to get up right now, as much as the fear of a UTI screams at you to do the contrary. Instead you turn your head towards Yoongi and he smiles at you. Sleep threatens to take you when he begins to stroke your hair.

"If you'd have told me last week I'd feel this close to someone, I'd have laughed at you," he starts in a quiet voice, "but I feel really close to you. I'm glad this insanity happened to us."

"Me too." You can't help but smile back. "I don't want to go to sleep because I'm afraid you'll be gone when I wake up. What if this is a dream?"

"Then I'll find you when I wake up. You'd better find me too."

"What if we forget?"

He grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckles. "I won't forget."

"Promise?"

"Mhm." He closes his eyes, clearly every bit as exhausted as you are. He's quiet for a minute and you think maybe he's already fallen asleep until he peeks out from under his eyelids. "... I think you need glasses."

"What?"

"I was just thinking. I felt like I was squinting all the time when I was you. Maybe that's why it took you so long to see how I felt." He shows off a big, toothy grin.

"Wow that guy really rubbed off on you, huh?"

You smack him in the face with a pillow when you get up.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The muffin and can of Hot6 sit on the counter, guarded by Yoongi's forearm.

"Wow, you already have my stuff ready? Is this the kind of perk I get for dating the owner?" you wonder.

He rolls his eyes. "Not yours until you pay for it."

"You're so sweet, not eating my muffin this time."

He drags his lip through his teeth and tries to hold back a devilish smirk. "I've found better things to eat, don't you think?"

Your heart thumps against your chest and you do your best to remind yourself that offering to suck his dick behind the counter is not what you should be doing in this situation. But you want it so bad. He watches your internal struggle with raised eyebrows and a smug smile. He slides the energy drink towards you.

"Here. This is on me today. You look a little thirsty."

Your shoulders raise and then deflate with your sigh. "Do you even want me to come back later?"

"What? It's free for you. You should be happy."

"And the muffin? What do I owe for that?"

He mimics your dramatic sigh and places it before you. "It's crazy. Your boyfriend offered to pay for that too."

"He's so generous." You shake your head but it can't keep the grin from your face. "Lots of free stuff today."

"It's a... special for today only. So don't get used to it or anything. But there is one more thing we're having a sale on, if you're interested."

"Hmm?"

"Free of charge, for you only." He taps his lips with both pointers, looking impossibly cute. His charm is devastating, really.

He cracks a smile and you feel yours grow impossibly wider. You lean over the counter and give him a sweet kiss.

"How long does this offer last?"

"As long as you want."

"Forever."

"Forever, it is." He gives you one more quick peck. "I've gotta mop the floor and you're gonna be late for work."

"Ugh. Wanna trade?"

He purses his lips and gives your hand a little squeeze. "Not a chance."

#smutcentralnet #yoongi smut #bts smut #similarly sequestered #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader

[kpop-sports-books-series-fangirl]

PJO/HOO - You meet for the second time

Masterlist

Request form and prompt list

(F/S) means Favourite sport

Will -

You were sitting at home, your (non-godly parent) had gone out somewhere, so you were alone. You were on the couch, scrolling through your phone, with your favorite blanket and with music blaring through your speakers.

Suddenly instead of playing the next song, your ringtone started playing through the speakers. You checked who it was and it was a random number, but you picked it up. “Hello?” you asked. “Hello? Is this (Y/N)?” they asked. “Who’s asking?” you asked back. “It’s Will,” he replied. “Oh, from the mall?” “Yeah...” “So, are you back in town again?” you asked hopefully.

“Um, yeah, I was hoping you could show me around,” he said nervously. You met up in a park near the house and you showed him around and just talked. Soon, you realize that your (non-godly parent) is going to come home.

You bid Will goodbye and ran back home to set up the place before your (non-godly parent) came home.

Nico -

You were getting scolded by your (non-godly parent) for throwing a sleepover without letting them know when you heard a knocking on your window. You looked outside to see the boy from that night. He was waving his hand frantically telling you to come out, but you ignored him and continued to listen to your (non-godly parent).

Later that night, when you had gotten ready for bed, you thought you heard a noise in your room, but when you looked, there was nothing, so you just ignored it. Just when you got into bed, a hand clamped over your mouth. You tried to scream, but the face of the boy from earlier came into view.

You tried to thrash, but he was too strong. Suddenly you felt this weird sensation in your stomach and when you opened your eyes, you were in a different room. As soon as the hand let go of your mouth, you screamed really loud.

You looked around the room and saw an old dude in a wheelchair. He winced at your loudness. “Nico, how many times should I tell you that when you bring the demi-gods, don’t scare the life out of them!” the old man said. He then turned to you and said “Hello, my dear, I’m Chiron,”

Percy -

You went to the beach again, the next week hoping to meet Percy again. You went on the same day at the same time, but he wasn’t there, so you just decided to enjoy your evening. You walked along the water for a while, before changing into your swimsuit and jumping into the ocean.

After a while you decided it was time to go home, so you wrapped the towel around yourself as you made your way to the washroom to change. After you got back into normal clothes, you started to walk back home. About halfway there, you felt someone tap your shoulder and you suddenly got into a defensive position in case someone was attacking you.

That ‘someone’ held up his hands and laughed. “Hey, it’s just me,” You looked carefully and saw that it was Percy. “Oh, sorry, you just scared me,” you tell him. You talked while he walked you back home. You exchanged phone numbers so you could talk later on as well and then he had to go.

Frank -

After that day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Frank. But you forced your mind off him, to focus on your studies. You are in the 10th grade and you are studying for your end-of-term exams.

(Your non-godly parent) has stopped all your social media accounts for the time being, including quotev (A/N: just had to add it 😜), youtube, and many others.

One day after school, (F/S) practice and all your after school clubs, you are walking home when you think you see someone following you. You take the route towards the park, trying to formulate a plan of what to do. That’s when you realize that the park is closed and it is one of the most unsafe places in your neighborhood.

Without stopping, you open your bag and take out your steel water bottle in case you need to protect yourself. You feel the person getting closer to you, so you turn around, swinging your bottle at the person's head.

You hear a loud ‘DINGGG’ as the bottle comes in contact with their head. They double over, and before you take off, you recognize that mop of black hair. It takes you a second to realize that this was Frank.

“What the hell!?” You shout at him. “You scared me half to death!” Then you remember what you did. “Oh no, are you okay!?” you ask as you approach him slowly. He holds up a hand. When he looks up at you, you see a huge gash on his forehead. You gasp, surprised.

“My house is nearby, we can take a look at that cut there,” You say as you grab his hand and guide him to your house. You opened the little zip of your bag, taking out your house key and throwing open the door.

You drop your bag near the door with a ‘thud’ and drag Frank into the living room. You sit him down on the couch and shush him when he opens his mouth to say something. You grab the first-aid kit from the cupboard.

As you apply the antiseptic to the wound, you apologize to him. “I am so sorry! I didn’t know it was you! Then again, why were you following me in the first place?!” You continue to ramble as you paste a bandage on it. Once you are done, you look down into his brown eyes.

“Can I speak now?” He asks, amused. You glare at him before nodding and tearing your eyes away from his, focusing on cleaning the mess of bandages on the floor.

As you put the unutilized plasters and cotton back in the box, you try not to look up at Frank as you know, if you look in his eyes, you will never be able to look away again, and that would be embarrassing.

“Well, I saw you walking on the road, so I decided to give you a little scare,” he explains.

“Yeah, you should never do that,” You tell him. “Seems I learned that the hard way,”

You both sit there and talk until it hits you that you have a history test tomorrow. It was going to be on Greek and Roman mythology (A/N:*gasp!* What a coincidence!). When you tell Frank this, he announces that he is an expert in Greek and Roman mythology.

Your (non-godly parent) is out of town for a few days so he stays over and helps you study, though it isn’t easy concentrating on your textbook with Frank staring at you the whole time.

Let’s say, you ace the test!

Jason -

You are now boarded on the plane and despite the excitement, fall asleep, fulfilling the hours you missed the previous night.

When you stir awake, you see your (non-godly parent) is still asleep, so you turn to the other side to see Jason from earlier. “Oh, hi!” you say. “Hi, again,” he replies.

“Guess I’m headed to Manhattan too,” you say as you reach down to your bag and take out a water bottle. “Yeah,” he says. Well, this is getting awkward, you think.

Taking a sip from your bottle, you look up at him again. “So...wanna play something?” You ask him, your childish side taking over. “Sure, what though?” “Um...maybe a game where we ask each other questions? Get to know each other better?” “Um, okay...”

-Time skip-

“Please fasten your seatbelts, the plane will be landing in 15 minutes,” the speaker announced. You and Jason had been talking the entire time, about the most random things like music, T.V. shows, movies, books, people, life, and everything possible.

You wanted to ask him for his number, but it would be a bit awkward. Like are you just supposed to walk up to him and say ‘hey can I have your number?’ wait. That isn’t so bad…

“Jason, can I have your number? Just to talk once in a while, it was fun...” you say as you wait for the crowd in the plane to clear as everyone gets off. “I would give you my number, but I don’t have a phone..” he tells you. “Oh, well, here’s my number, call whenever you can!” You say taking out a pen and asking him if you could write it on his hand.

Leo -

Rrring! Rrring! You hear from your bag. Your eyes widen as you know it’s your phone. “(L/N)!” your teacher calls you out. “Phone!” she holds out her hand as you hand her your phone. “Detention after school today!”

“But ma’am! I have (F/S) practice today after school!” You complain. “Well, you’ll just have to skip it for today,” Well shit. Your coach was going to kill you, especially with a match coming up on the weekend!

You were going to kill whoever called you.

-Time skip-

After school, detention, and shouting from your coach, you were headed to get your phone back from the principal's office. You knock on the door. “Come in!” A voice calls. “Ma’am, I’ve come to collect my phone,” “Here you are, but you should know, you have to keep your phone on silent during the classes,” “Yes ma’am, sorry, it won’t happen again,”

Sighing, you switch on your phone as you head to the exit of the school building. You checked your notifications to see you had like 6 missed calls from an unknown number.

Your phone starts ringing again, suddenly, surprising you. You gripped it tightly before it slipped out of your hands. It was an unknown number, a different one this time. This is getting creepy, but you pick up the call and place the phone on your ear.

“H-hello?” You stutter into the phone. “Hello? Is this (Y/N)?” the other voice asks. “Who is this?” you ask. “Leo. The one who fixed your cycle?” he says. “Leo? You know, when I told you to call, I didn’t mean in the middle of the day! I was in class when my phone rang! I got detention and had to skip my practice! Do you know how mad my coach was-!” you were cut off by Leo. “Hey! Hey! I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, but I desperately need your help!”

“Why should I help you?” “Because you owe me one?” “Yeah, but you got me in trouble!” “Please (Y/N!)! I really need your help!” Leo says. For the first time, you notice how desperate he sounds.

“Okay. What do you need?” You ask him. “I and my friends need someplace to crash just for a few hours,” “Wait, are you and your ‘friends’ drunk?!” you almost shriek, scaring the guard who is standing at the entrance gate.

“No! I can’t- just, can I tell you after?” you take a deep breath before looking around and saying “Okay, my (non-godly parent) is out of town, so you can stay at my house for the night, I live at _____.”

“Thank you!” He cuts the call. You stare at the phone, shocked at what you just did.

When you reach home, Leo and his friends are not there yet, so you go in and start cleaning up the space a little. Picking up clothes, making the living room presentable. Your (non-godly parent) hasn’t been home for a few days, so you didn’t care what you did to the house.

Ding dong! You head to the door and take a deep breath before opening the door to reveal Leo, a girl and a boy both, your age. “Come in,” you say timidly.

Once they are on the couch, you turn to Leo, put your hands on your hips, and ask “Care to explain?” with raised eyebrows.

Travis -

You are stressed out. The list of things that you have to complete is only getting longer. All your responsibilities weigh you down. You need a break, just to get some fresh air.

You decide to take a walk to clear your head. Your legs lead you to the park. You sit down on the same bench as you observe the kids play, so carefree, burdenless, no responsibilities. Oh, how you wish you were like them.

This brought tears to your eyes. You just want a break, just one day, just forget about all that work, waiting back at home. You have to complete everything on time, submit all the work, no time for doing what you want.

You hug yourself and move your hands up and down, comforting yourself.

“Hey, you okay?” you hear a voice ask. You sit up quickly and wipe your tears. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you say. You look up to see it’s Travis. “Oh, hi, Travis, right?” You confirm, knowing fully well that it could be his brother. “Yup, not Connor,” You send him a little smile.

“Running from him again?” you ask, teasingly. “Haha,” he replies smiling. “Can I sit there?” he asks pointing to the empty space on the bench next to you. You nod, letting him know it’s fine. He takes his seat.

“So, what’s all the crying about?” he asks. “Nothing,” “Oh come on! You don’t cry just for nothing!” “Some people do. When they can’t take the stress anymore about everything in life and they just break down but don’t have a reason to explain it,” “So, life’s stressing you out?” he asks. “That’s not what I said!” “Yeah, you did!” “Did not!” “Did too!” “Nope, did not,” “Okay, whatever! You still need cheering up! Come!” he says as he grabs your hand and drags you from the park.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask him. “I’m not telling you!” “You know how creepy that sounds to me right? You could be kidnapping me for all I know! I mean, I could use a little enjoyment in my life, but I don’t mean this!” while you were busy rambling, Travis had dragged you to a dark alley.

“Travis...where are we?” you ask, starting to get scared. “Watch this,” he says as he walks to the far end of the wall, and presses one brick, which causes a door to open in the wall.

You are closer to the entrance and you can see on the other side it’s an open field. Mesmerized, you walk over, through the door. You feel a tap on your shoulder, followed by a “You’re it!” and Travis running away from you.

You smile and take off after him. After a while of you both running back and forth, you lie down in the grass, Travis next to you. You relax for a while before you realize the time and jump up.

“I have to go!” you say as you run back out the door.

Connor -

You are bored. All of your friends are doing...stuff, and you are sitting here doing nothing. It is your day off from work. You decide to clean your room.

You pick up the pile of clothes in the corner and head down to the laundry room. Before you dump the laundry in the washing machine you go through all the pockets as you usually forget things in them.

All in all, you found your earphones which you’d been looking for since almost a week now (A/N: I actually wouldn’t survive that long without my earphones!), a folded piece of paper, your rubber band, a pencil (don’t ask), and a paperclip.

You put all the objects in your pocket of the jacket you’re wearing, thinking you’ll take it out later before you unfold the piece of paper to see if it’s something important.

It was the note the guy left, Connor.

You are free, have nothing to do. How bad could this guy be?

You pick up your phone and dial the number, and it rings a few times before a girl picks up, “Hello?” she sounds perplexed. “Um...hi, Connor told me to call this number....” “Connor! Oh, I’m gonna kill him!”

On the other end of the line, you heard an “Oooh! Is it for me?” followed by an ‘umph!’ and a “Catch me if you can!”

You are too confused about what was happening, and are about to put the phone down when someone says “Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, is this Connor?” “Yeah, who is this?” “This is (Y/N), the girl from the ice cream shop,” “Oh yeah! I actually didn’t expect you to call!” “Yeah, well, I’m bored and I have nothing to do, so if you’re free, wanna hang?” “Sure…? Where do you want to meet up?” “Outside the Ice cream shop?” “Sure, I’ll see you there,”

-Time skip-

You are waiting outside the ice cream shop for Connor. A few minutes later, you see a hooded figure walking towards you. You turn away and start walking away when you hear “(Y/N)!?” You turn around and see it’s Connor.

“Oh, hi! You scared me,” you tell him. “Yeah, sorry. So, what do you want to do?” “Hang out?” “Ok….no. How about we prank people on the beach?” “Ok, but what prank?” “Replacing their sunscreens with mustard?” “Let’s go buy some mustard then!”

You guys spent all evening replacing people’s things, and getting caught by the cops, and escaping. Calling Connor, was the best decision you have ever made.

A/N: Hey guys!! The next part is out!! I'll link the first part below. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

-TheBlueBookworm is out~~!!!

#percy jackson #pjo preferences #percy jackson x reader #pjo fanfic #nico di angelo #jason grace #luke castellan #travis stoll #connor stoll #will solace #frank zhang

[achliegh]

Golden

(Sorry if this Chapter is lack luster :/ )

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Ladies Love Country Boys

Bonfire Playlist: Spotify, Youtube

Watching Airplanes

Chapter 2:

Cowboy Sweet Ass sent you a Location

New Message from Cowboy Sweet Ass

See you there ;)

Finn was nervous, he wasn’t gonna lie, Logan and Him are leaving tomorrow for Gryff and this is the last night they can see Leo. Who, neither of them will admit this, has kindly wiggled his way into their brains for every minute of everyday. Sometimes to break a long silence between the two of them they will talk about Leo. How they were going to cope when they can’t see him again is unknown and something he didn’t want to think about.

They hadn’t actually seen Leo in the past five days, with their training schedule and Leo helping set up a charity arena for the thing they were supposed to meet him at tonight, it was just late night calls that were still kinda awkward at times. But always had them smiling as they fell asleep.

Walking up the dirt path, where the uber had dropped them off, Logan and Finn weren’t sure they were in the right place until they saw the huge crowd gathered around a tall metal fence with bleachers and an announcers corner that's up on a hydraulic lift, speakers set up so people can hear the quick talking of the men commenting on whatever was happening.

Horses and people on them were everywhere. This causes Logan a lot of stress, as someone who is terrified of horses… This is not ideal. Especially when one is trotting toward them at a scary fast speed.

Finn recognized Clayton immediately, trotting over at a leisurely pace on a cool looking horse he waves. He notices Logan hiding himself completely behind Finn’s back. Finn held his hand out for Logan to take and squeeze if everything got too much for him. Logan wasn’t good in big crowds.

“Well look who it is!” Clayton hops off his living vehicle and patting her neck. “Let me introduce you to my babe, This” He gestures towards the mare, “Is Leroy, she is a Blanket Appaloosa! Have you guys met Peanut yet? He’s chilling with Eloise, Leo’s mom, you better hope he likes you or else… yeah, or else.” Clay flashes them his slightly crooked but stupidly white smile as he absentmindedly pets Leroy’s neck.

Feeling a squeeze of his hand he looks back to see an absolutely terrified Logan, not knowing about his fear of horses Finn is just confused. So, he goes into a ‘ get Logan alone’ mind set.

“We will find you in a minute, we’re gonna explore!” Finn smiles back and Clayton nods as he swings his leg back over Leroy and clicks his tongue so she struts back towards the group of other yeehaws on their own horses, they all had numbers pinned to their backs which was weird but Finn guessed Leo would explain later. Claytons was CR243, and it looked like it was about to fall off. He notices how someone would go in real fast and then come out after a minute or two. The announcer talked too fast for him to catch.

Leading Logan to a more open area he turns to face him and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, what's wrong?”

“Ummmm, J'ai peur des chevaux….” Logan isn’t looking him in the eyes and has an embarrassed flush to his face. Finn, having no clue what he said, gently grabs his chin to make him look at him, Lo hasn’t run his finger through his hair yet so that means he isn’t nervous around Finn at least. Fixing Logan with a slightly irritated but still worried look, Logan sighs and tries to say something but instead what comes out is a terrified yelp as something takes his hat off his head and pulls some of his hair at the same time, then drops it at his feet.

Whipping around and jumping into Finn’s arms bridal style Logan shrieks as he is met with a blonde horse that almost looks smug. The little splotchy white stripes on its snoot may make it look kinda cute but Logan knows what can happen if you get on a horse's bad side. It happened to Sydney, he didn’t need it to happen to him too.

“Peanut!” A very tall and beautiful older woman walks over to them laughing a little, she has a hearing aid in her left ear and soft blue eyes bright with amusement stare them down. “Sorry Y’all, he likes to find new people to mess with.” She smiles and there is just something so familiar about those deep dimples and sharp cheekbones. She is wearing tight jeans with knee high army green cowboy boots, a white button up with a black cowboy hat contrasting the golden curls falling out from under it. She is wearing a sash with the words ‘Miss Louisiana 1971’ the wrinkles on her face didn’t make her look old and crinkly like people like to think, but more like a gracefully aging woman. She holds her hand out to Finn for him to shake, Logan is still in his arms so it is as much of an invitation to him as Finn. “I’m Eloise, this is my son’s horse.” She looks them up and down after shaking both their hands. “He would like you two.” She smiles one last time, giving them a giant wink and leads Peanut away from them back to the bullpens where they spot Leo sitting on the top of a fence talking to a couple of people.

Finn looks at Logan and sets him down.

“So.. horses?”

“Shut up”

“You go for a cowboy and are afraid of horses!” Finn is bent over laughing and clutching his stomach while Logan crosses his arms and looks around annoyed after he dusted off his hat and put it back on his head.

“What’s so funny?” they look over to see Leo in full get up. Smiling bright, showing off his chipped tooth. His hair was flattened by a black sturdy cowboy hat, his blue button up vibrant under his black vest. The vest had a couple of logos stitched into it for Absolut Vodka, Mt. Dew, and Ariat…. Leo was sponsored? He was also wearing some jeans that fit him just right around his booty that they could see through his assless black chaps that had iridescent tassels on them, with his black boots and belt to match. His silver buckle stood out with the light reflecting off it.

“Wow… you look great.” Logan just melts into Leo’s side when Leo wraps an arm around his shoulders. “But tell Finn to stop being a jerk.” Logan put on his best pout when looking up at the taller man, who looked at him with a look that made his heart feel like it was about to jump out of his chest. It didn’t alarm him though, it was nice to feel like this. But it can’t last forever.

“What's he doing that's so mean.” Leo turns his attention to Finn who is smiling at them like he's watching two kittens cuddle into each other. His eyes bright with happiness, his smiles wide.

“He’s making fun of me because I’m scared of horses.” Logan wraps his arms around Leo’s waist and squishes his cheek into his chest to look as cute as possible, so Leo will be on his side. Which… fails.

“You’re afraid of horses!” Leo hugs Logan as he starts laughing, smacking a kiss on the top of Logan’s annoyed forehead and squeezes him. “You’re so cute.” Suddenly they hear numbers coming over other speakers and Leo perks up. “Oh I’m up soon! I hope y’all are gonna stay and watch because I would love to take you to the bonfire tonight.” He pulls Finn into the embrace and gives them both a quick peck on the lips, smiling when they chase his lips. “There should be an open spot in the bleachers or, you could watch from Peanut.”

“Bleachers!” Logan gets out of Leo’s arms and starts pulling both the boys towards the crowd without horses. Leo helps them find a spot next to some girls who flirt with Leo but he has no fucking clue. He is just focused on getting Finn and Logan a good spot.

“Alright, my number is BR11710, so when you hear that you’ll know I’m up! I think Clay might come and find you, he had a good run earlier wrangling those troublemaking claves, so keep an eye out for him.” He smiles and climbs down the bleachers gracefully until the last small step where his spur gets caught and he has to yank it out of the cevous it got stuck in. Looking back up at Finn and Logan his cheeks were red as he shrugged and sauntered off towards the chutes.

“Hola losers!” Clayton plops down above with and slaps a hand on their shoulders. “Excited to see him ride? Or have you already? Actually I would know because we overshare way too much.” Smiling, Clayton is covered in dirt and his cowboy hat has been traded out for a ball cap and his button up taken off to be just a white tank top. A tall pale girl sat down with Clayton and was scrolling on her phone looking uninterested. Clayton sits up and wraps an arm around her waist. “Oh this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” She looks up and gives them an irritated wave before going back to her phone.

“Ride? What’s he doing?” Finn looks at him confused after sharing a look with Logan about the irritated girlfriend, then they hear the announcers call Leo's number.

“Alrighty ladies and gentlefolk! We have something special for y’all! One of our very own PBR riders is here to ride the roughest toughest bull of the day! Ole Forty Days!” The crowd cheers as a confused Finn and Logan look at Clayton who whoops and hollers for his bestie. Whistling with his thumb and forefinger in his mouth.

“Alright Jimmy lets get in some commentary before the ride starts, Leo Knut is a 19 year old Professional Bull Rider, his Mother is Eloise Knut also known as Miss Rodeo of 1970 and Miss Louisiana of 1971. His father was Wyatt Knut, Air Force Veteran who was also Leo’s biggest role model.”

“Was?” Logan whispers and gives a sad look to Finn who is busy watching Leo, he is on this tank of an animal, large, white, horns the size of his whole forearm. Leo was adjusting the way he is sitting and has an underside grip on the rope around the bull, wrapping it around his palm to make sure there isn’t a tether that can be stepped on and yank him off.

“Ole Forty Days is the only PBR bull here today, worth millions he is undefeated 32-0 in his career this year. Will Leo who is 30-2 this year be able to stay on those eight seconds.”

Leo hits the challenge button and the gate flies open, Ole Forte days is wild! Finn is automatically on his feet as he watches Leo with his hand up in the air, eyes hard from focusing and counting in his head. Forte turns a 45 degree buck and just about tosses Leo but his grip is so tight that he lasts those eight seconds. The announcers went crazy the entire time.

As he dismounts the still bucking bull his wrist gets caught in the rope he was holding earlier because of the way his glove is falling apart. The rodeo clowns distract the bull fast enough for Leo to get himself detached, falling on the ground. The bull tosses Leo onto the ground and just misses stomping on his ankles. Leo hops onto the fence, the adrenaline is pumping through his veins and his eyes are bright as he searches for the boys in the stand watching him with fear etched into their faces. When his eyes met Logan’s the fear turned into relief and Leo felt the adrenaline making his heart beat even faster.

After Forte is corralled back into the pen to have the rope around his hips removed Leo jumps off the fence and takes his hat off bowing to the crowd, and they love it, whistling and whoops are heard. He points to Finn, Logan and Clayton. Clayton is so excited and starts dragging the other two down the bleachers leaving Ashley behind. Leo doesn’t like her at all so it's fine. Leo turns around and walks towards sports medicine and lets them take a look at his wrist. As his adrenaline starts to fade away the tweak in his wrist starts to bother him as the medic wraps it up.

“You just ruined Forte’s career!” Clay hugs him from the side and picks him up all excited, his girlfriend who decided to join looks at them unapprovingly. Finn and Logan basically tackle Leo to the ground once Clay puts him down. One on each side of him, balanced.

“Are you insane! That could have killed you!” Finn is shaking a laughing Leo by his collar as Logan examines the way his wrist is wrapped.

“I know, I technically wrecked at the end but I still got my eight seconds!” He smiles and takes his hand from Logan, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin.

“You never told us you rode bulls! Leo, a little heads up would have been appreciated!” Logan whacks him on the back of the head after they stand up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” Leo puts an arm around them and kisses their temples. They had an idea. Where to do it was the question.

The rodeo ended not long after Leo’s ride, the charities the winners chose would be given a five thousand dollar check courtesy of the Knut’s. After Leo was done taking down the arena, a large pile of wood was set up with large equipment. Leo pulled a Clayton and took off his chaps, vest, button down, and hat off so he was wearing a white shirt and a ball cap.

Leo made up for scaring Finn and Logan by pulling them into the back seat of his truck. Leo sitting in the middle of the seat with Finn straddling one leg, hunched over and sucking on Leo’s neck. Logan straddled Leo’s other leg and kissed him with a ferocity that made them both groan. Leo rested his hands in Finn’s hair and on Logan’s hip. Pulling away Leo turns his head to face Finn, guiding him from his neck to lips. He feels Logan push his hand underneath his shirt and smirks into his kiss with Finn. Moving his hands to squeeze both of their asses, causing Logan’s breath to hitch and Finn to moan. He is about to suggest something spicy when a knock on the window alerts them that the party has started.

Why does Clay always have to stick to his word? Leo asked him to let them know when it was time to move his truck to have the tailgate facing the fire, and now was that time. Leo’s head thumps back onto the seat as he lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Well, I guess we have a party to attend… I’m gonna get so drunk.” He smiles and gives his boys one last kiss before he ushers them out of the truck so he can get out of the backseat to move it.

Finn wanders over to Clayton who has Ashley under his arm, she is tall and very skinny. Her long brown hair was in a French braid, she was wearing short shorts, boots and a crop top. He has a very sour look on her face as Finn walks over to them. Logan on the other hand, goes to take a piss in the porta potty. Something he is not fond of doing.

Leo moves his truck and gets out to put the tailgate down so people can sit on it, climbing into the bed of the truck he opens the cooler in the back and takes out two budlights, Leo doesn't really care for budlight but they need to be drunk.

“CLAYTON!” He shouts as the three walk over to the truck, chucking the beer at his friend; they both take out their keys, puncturing the cans and shotgunning the beers.

A few hours and a lot of drinks later Leo was singing to Finn, standing between his legs as Finn sat on the tailgate next to Logan who was filming.

“You can train 'em, You can try to teach 'em right from wrong. But it's still gonna turn 'em on!” Finn can’t help but laugh and wrap his arms around Leo’s necklaces he sang, every once in while facing Logan's phone and singing into the camera as he filmed. Taking a drink of his beer he smacks a sloppy kiss on Finn's cheek and skips away to Clayton to dance like idiots as Luke Bryan sang about shaking it for birds and bees.

The two drunken best friends wrap and arm around each other hips with their drinks in the other hand, putting left side to right side they swing back and forth to the beat as they scream out the music.

Later on Leo picks Logan up so his arms are around his neck and his legs are around his waist and spins around while humming to a song about wheels and Finn looks so smitten that clayton takes a picture to show him and laughs as he send it to Leo, who has managed to misplace his phone… for the millionth time.

Setting Logan down he wraps his arms around the shorter man's shoulders and rests his chin on top of his head as he bounces to the beat. Logan leans his forehead to rest on Leo’s chest and uses his hand that isn’t holding his water to loop his finger into one of Leo’s belt loops he wishes he could take a screenshot in his brain.

Hours passed, singing and horrible dancing, more drinking for Clay and Leo until it sounded like a good idea to see who could crush a folding table by jumping off Clayton’s truck. Finn managed to lead them away before they actually tried it by telling them’ Leo could def dance better than Clayton’. Which turned into the worst dance battle ever seen. Two drunk teenagers and country music make for terrible dancing but a lot of laughs. Eventually, the fire dies down, the drinks run out and the boys get tired. Finn wrangles Leo into the back seat of the truck after lifting the tailgate, moving to go to the drivers seat because Logan might be to short to drive and they are to dumb to figure out how to move the seats, Leo latches onto him and pulls him into the backseat with him.

“Hey! How do you expect me to drive back here!” Finn pokes Leo’s nose and Leo catches his finger in his mouth biting him. Finn squawks and pulls his finger away. Looking at Leo offended, laughing a little as Leo is looking at him with this tiny smirk. “That was rude.” Leo narrows his eyes playfully and flips them so Finn is laying on his back with Leo snuggling into his chest.

Logan gets in on the passenger side and looks up to see Finn in the back seat being snuggled by an oddly cat like Leo who is rubbing his face on Finn’s soft t shirt, when his eyes meet Logans he blushes so vibrantly pink and has the shyest smiles as he hides his face in Finn’s chest again. Logan looks at Finn who looks like he's dying from cuteness overload. Logan moves over to the driver's seat and sits all the way on the edge of the seat to be able to touch the petals. Logan doesn’t have a clue where Leo lives… but he does remember how to get back to the hotel.

Trying to get a clingy 6’3” cowboy into a hotel room while he is intoxicated is a lot easier than you would think. He was tired, stripping down the second they walk into the door he lands on the bed in his boxer briefs and spoons Logan and grips Finn’s arm as he falls asleep.

They all slept incredibly well that night, warm, close, and together.

The next morning was the morning The Lions leave to go back to Gryffindor. Leo was up before the other two, showered and dressed when he woke them up with peppering kisses all over their faces.

“Good morning, Honey Bees. Y’all need to get up and get ready to leave, you go home today.” Leo runs his hand through Finn’s hair as he greets them with a sad smile. He doesn’t want them to leave, but he knows that this isn’t some fairytale where two princes will give up their dreams to be with him. That’s not what he wants anyway. The other two finally get up, Finn goes to shower as Logan changes and packs his bag. Glancing at Leo every once in a while, like he wants to say something.

“Leo, what are you still doing here?” Logan drops his bag by the door and turns around to face the taller man, crossing his arms and giving Leo a cold look. Leo is a little taken back by this, Logan has never looked at him like that, and he wasn’t expecting it from how nice yesterday was.

“I was to see you two off… is that okay?” Leo starts to feel uncomfortable under the harsh eyes he found so pretty, he starts picking at the wrap around his wrist, breaking eye contact with Logan as a sinking feeling seeps into his chest. He never expected anything to actually come from this but he ached for it.

He knows where this is going.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen after we leave, but we aren’t going to be fawning over you when we are busy with our own careers. You are just… a guy who we had a fling with. Finn and I aren’t even together so don’t expect anything.” Logan's voice stayed low in volume but echoed in Leo’s ears.

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I just wanted to see you guys leave, say goodbye, maybe…” Leo didn’t finish his sentence when he looked up at an annoyed and frustrated Logan. “What did I do?” He hears the bathroom door open and Finn walks into the room whistling in fresh clothes as he dries his hair with a towel.

“You don’t mean anything to us Leo'' Finn hears Logan and knows exactly what’s going on, Logan has done this to him many times. This is Logan’s way of cutting off something he wants in a way he knows won't bring the person back, even though he always feels horrible eventually. Finn has been a victim of Logan’s lashing out many times, and he hasn’t left, because he loves Logan. He really really likes Leo, he gives his heart a similar jolt that Logan does. From what they have discussed, Logan felt the same. Logan doesn’t allow himself the luxury of feeling like this though.

Leo looks absolutely shattered after Logan’s words sank in. He looks over to Finn who looks like he’s in his own head, then back to Logan. “I really really like you guys-”

“Stop being a fucking child Leo! This isn’t something we can continue after we leave, we would get torn to shreds by the league! Not everything is about you and we don’t want you! So just go back to your fucking farm and forget us.” Logan grabs his bag and walks out the door slamming it shut, going to be the first one on the bus that just pulled up to take the team to the airport.

Leo stares at where Logan was when red catches his eye, Finn stops and gives Leo a sad smile, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Finn then turns his back to Leo and follows Logan out the door. Leaving Leo alone in the hotel room… He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the hotel keycard, standing up he goes to leave it on the table of the room, he stops just before he sets the key down.

He takes the card and walks out of the room, Climbing into his truck that was horribly parked, he finds his phone on the floor of the passenger side. Picking up his phone, he calls up the only person he knows who would be willing to hang out even if he was sick from last night.

“Clay? Can you meet me somewhere?”

A half hour and some McDonald's hash browns later. Clayton and Leo were sitting on top of Leo’s truck hood watching the airplanes take off, sipping on soda they got with their food. They watched in a comfortable silence as planes brought people in and took people away.

Logan and Finn were on one of those.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

[rottenroyalebooks]

Rotten Corpse

Chapter One

-Originally written on Wattpad-

Pairing: Corpse Husband x OC! RottenRoyale/Sienna Colt

Genre: Real Person Fic, Romance, a little bit of angst.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Series Summary: A life full of deception can only lead to her downfall, will he be there to catch her?

~*~*~

I could see the sun rising in the window next to me and I groaned, looking at the clock on my studio wall realizing that I had spent all night recording and editing a video when I should have been studying for my college classes, again.

My phone vibrated on the desk next to me as my alarm went off that was supposed to wake me up; but not today.

I turned off the alarm seeing a text from my mom.

"I made breakfast for you whenever you're ready. It's in the kitchen of the manor, I'll be in my office if you need anything." I smiled and chuckled at my mother's text, looking out the window again and gazing at my family's Manor, and seeing my mother waving at me from her office window.

When my videos on YouTube started taking off and I started gaining popularity, my parents let me move into the guest house that's located in the backyard, fixing it up and turning it into my studio.

I stood up from my desk, stretching slightly and walking out of my office, and heading to the first floor. I exited my studio and walked across the backyard and opened the kitchen door to the manor.

I saw the plate on the island counter and smiled to myself; hopping up on the stool as Miranda, our live-in maid walked into the kitchen.

"Ah good morning Sienna! What is on the agenda today?" She asked walking over to the kitchen to clean the dishes.

"I'm going to stop at the coffee shop by the university and cram in some last-minute studying until my noon financing class. Then, when I get out of class, I will head back to my studio, shower, and get ready before I stream. Busy day." I say with a smile.

"Sounds like it. Make sure you eat before you stream. Do you want me to make you some lunch today? I don't mind making your food." She offers but I shake my head.

"I'm going to be cooking on stream today, for my She Can Cook series on YouTube. I was taught by another YouTuber how to make Honey Butter Fried Chicken and he challenged me to make it so I set up my streaming equipment in my kitchen last night so I wouldn't have to rush myself today." I explained as I ate my breakfast.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing an email from my professor.

I opened it up and groaned in happiness as I read the subject line:

CLASS IS CANCELED

"Bless! My professor canceled class today which means I can play video games!" I said cheerfully as I went to my messages and found Sean's number, texting him.

"Hey man! Are you up for playing Among Us today?"

I sent the text as my mother walked into the kitchen, "Darling, I'm going to assume that your office light being on all night was not because you were studying." She said crossing her arms.

It was a trap! I thought to myself as I stopped chewing my food. I thought about my answer carefully as I swallowed and sat up straight.

"You assumed correctly." I mumbled looking down at my plate, "I was recording and editing a video all night, a new song."

She sighed, "Sienna, your grades are important. Midterms are around the corner-"

"And if my job flops on me then I won't have a backup." I finish the statement for her. "I know mom, I'm sorry. Professor canceled class today so I'm going to focus on relaxing today but I promise I will binge study tonight and stay out of my office tomorrow." I tell her and she nods.

"Deal." She said before walking away. I felt my phone vibrate with a message from Sean.

"I was just about to text you! We need one more person for our game in about an hour would you be okay with that?"

Meeting new people is always fun.

I met Sean a few years ago at Vidcon when he came up to my booth and exclaimed how he liked my music and asked ME for a picture. I was starstruck and we became friends from that day forward. We collaborated on a few gaming videos and because of that more people decided to watch my channel and I blew up soon after.

He isn't the only YouTuber I know. I'm also friends with Gloom (Kassie), Dangthatsalongname (Scott), LDShadowlady (Lizzie), Laurenzside (Lauren), SmallishBeans (Joel), and Joey Griceffa. I've collaborated with a bunch of other people too like Shannon Taylor.

Lots of big names, I know.

I replied to his text agreeing and for him to send me an invite.

I ate the rest of my breakfast quickly and Miranda took my dishes for me and I thanked her before heading back to my studio.

I jogged back up the stairs and brushed my teeth before hopping in the shower and getting dressed into my clothes so I wouldn't have to do so later.

As soon as I sat down at my computer I got the invite from Sean and I set up the game before accepting.

As soon as I entered the call I heard people chatting away, starting with Sean.

"Oh! She's here! Everyone, meet Rotten. Rotten, meet everyone!" Sean said and I chuckled.

"Hey everyone," I said with a smile, adjusting my headset on my head.

"Hey! I'm Lily!"

"Hi! I'm Rae."

"I'm Sykkuno!"

"Hey Rotten! Dave is here too." I smiled hearing Dave speak up.

"Rotten! Best Friend!" Glooms' voice came through the call and I smiled.

"Glooooooom!" I said in a weird voice that made everyone laugh.

"Hi, Rotten! Lizzie here!" Lizzie's voice makes me smile and I greeted her back.

"Wait! You're Rotten Royale, aren't you? That alternative singer that Marzia listens to on the daily. She is obsessed with Up all Night." Felix's voice was the last person I expected to be on this call.

I had to mute myself so I didn't say something stupid. PewDiePie knows my name AND his girlfriend listens to my music? So rad.

I quickly composed myself and unmuted my mic, "Yeah that's me! So glad to hear that someone likes my music." I joke as I design my character. My color is cyan and I have a cat head hat on my character's head.

"Oh please, your four million subscribers would simp for you in a heartbeat." Sean joked which made everyone in the chat laugh.

Then someone else joined.

A deeper toned voice comes through my headset, "Is there someone new in the chat?"

His voice set me back, deciding not to say anything as I knew he probably got a lot of comments about his voice. "Yeah, I'm Rotten." I introduce myself.

"Rotten?" His tone was questioning and Gloom giggled.

"That's her alias on the internet, well it's Rotten Royale, but everyone just calls her rotten for short," Kassie explained to me and I smiled.

He hummed, "Makes sense. I'm Corpse."

I barked out a laugh, "And you question my name?" I teased.

"Oh! Rotten, are you streaming?" Sean asked.

"Negative, Ghostrider. All my streaming equipment is currently in my kitchen for my Stream later today."

"Why in the kitchen?" Sykkuno asked and I chuckled.

"I have this series I do on my side channel called She Can Cook where I have all different kinds of people trying to teach me how to cook because before I couldn't even boil pasta correctly because my mother spoiled me," That earned a laugh from a few people, "A week ago I had Sam the Cooking Guy come to my studio and teach me how to make Honey Butter Fried Chicken and man it's amazing. I'm going to be attempting to cook it on stream and pray I don't set my studio on fire."

"Oh, I'll be watching that." Kassie chuckled.

"Yo Rotten I just listened to Up all Night and it's so good! Your voice is so Angelic!" Lily exclaimed and I let out a chuckle.

"Thank you, I appreciate the feedback," I said shyly and Sean piped up.

"I think you should be recording this, Rotten, this is going to be an interesting game."

I smirked lightly, typing quickly on my computer and seeing my third screen pop up with the recording of the screen in front of me.

"Hang on, I have to grab a cam. All of my good ones are in the kitchen." I muted my mic and rushed over to my bookshelf, grabbing a box that I put my old cam in.

After getting the face cam set up I turned it on, seeing it pop up on my other screen. I unmuted my mic and smiled, "Alright! I now have a face. Let's do this thing, momma needs to procrastinate doing her Finance homework."

#fanfiction #writers of tumblr #corpse #corpse husband #rottenroyalebooks #rottenwrites #wattpad #corpse husband x oc #valkyrae #tycoon family #YouTube #youtuber #musicians #story songs #sykkuno #jacksepticeye #disguised toast #friendship #friends to lovers

[sunarintoes]

Dear Whovever: [Kenma]

Synopsis: You and Kenma are both best friends and youtube gamers however you want to be more than just best friends so you decide to ‘man up’ one day and write a heart felt confession in a minecraft notebook before then putting it in Kenma’s personal chest.

WC: 3K

TW: slight swearing :)

[Episode one]

[recording in 3… 2… 1… start!] 

“Hey gamers, Kodzuken here with Tulip-but-make-it-yellow! I've done a few Minecraft videos with Tulip before, but thought I'll start a new series that will be posted every Monday.”

“It's called Minedays with Tulip and Kodzu”

“I- no, Tulip. I'm not sure what we’re gonna call it. But you guys will know- obviously since it's the title of this video.”

You whine and pout into the monitor, “Kodzu I think Minedays is a cute name.” 

Instead of replying Kenma rolls his eyes and hits you ingame. “Should we introduce the challenge and get it started?”

“Yeah that's a good idea!” 

“Well, it's about eleven am right now, we have until eleven pm to build a Minecraft house from a random topic,” he pauses and moves to the side to point to a sectioned spinwheel, “on this bad boy,” whacks the spinner, “we have eight different themes, in a sec I’ll spin it and whatever it lands on will be what we have to build.”

You let out a high pitched ‘hmm,’ “I feel bad for Kuroo and Hinata, they’re both going to have to edit twelve hours of footage down to 10 minutes!”

Kenma chuckles, “fifteen minutes actually.”

This time you roll your eyes. “Hurry up and spin it you fool! I want to get buildinggg” 

Smiling, Kenma moves back a bit and spins the wheel, after thirty seconds full of anticipation the wheel finally stops and its small arrow is pointing at- “Yes! Cottage core theme!” you yell out while Kenma groans. 

“Really? That's lame why couldn't we have ‘Lucifer’s Bedroom’?” 

You poke your tongue out to the monitor - which Kenma could see, after all, you are in a Discord call with him. “Don't be sad just because you're prancing in my turf…. Looooooser!”

Kenma playfully glares towards you, “You’re on! See you in twelve hours!”

Unfortunately, the difficulty of building a cottage core house in the woods - in survival mode, proved more difficult than planned. 

“We spawned in a desolate area huh? Barely any flowers!” you hear Kenma make a sound of agreement as you sink into your comfortable ‘gamer’ styled chair. 

“Don't tell me you've given up? Just because you can't find any flowers?” 

You scowl at his cocky tone however your mood does a one-eighty when you suddenly get a good idea. “Ok everyone! I know what I have to do! I'm going to restart in another place because this isn’t working!”

Kenma makes a sound of surprise, “you're restarting? It's been an hour already-”

“Yeah and we have, like... eleven more.” Kenma sighs in response, “better get a move on.”

For the most part, the two of you kept quiet - not wanting to let the other know how well you were doing. However one look at your phone only to see that your twitter has blown up, you decide to take a short break, after all it has been four hours of you sitting on your ass playing Minecraft. Once you open Twitter you're met with a barrage of tags and mentions - all of which screaming ‘KenYn’ and ‘Kodzutulip.’ You felt heat rise to your face, you - yes you, Ln Yn with the online alias Tulip-but-make-it-yellow, has a big, fat, humongous crush on your best friend and fellow youtuber - Kenma, aka Kodzuken aka the cutest guy in the world. To make it worse - or better, you couldn't really tell, was that many of your viewers shipped you with him - as did his viewers. 

You are of course, happy with this but you can’t help but wonder if Kenma feels the same way, does he feel weirded out by all this shipping content? Does he find it uncomfortable? Does he find it unsettling to be shipped with his in-real-life best friend?

“Hey Yn?” Kenma calls softly, “you've been looking at your phone for the past ten minutes and your face looks sad.”

You instantly look up to meet Kenma’s face and try to find the right words to say, “I… I’m just kinda tired and eventually got distracted!! Sorry Kenken!”

Kenma visibly cringes at the old nickname - the one you gave him in primary school, “if you say so… better get your head in the game though - my mansion looks epic.”

Your eyes narrow, “mansion? The theme is cottage core!” Kenma quietly chuckles in response, “a mansion can still have a fairy aesthetic, you should know that”

You huff in faux annoyance as you place your phone away and ‘get your head in the game’ just as he requested. “Be prepared to be crushed! I am the cottage core guardian!”

There are ten minutes left to your’s and Kenma’s excruciatingly long Minecraft challenge, your ass hurts from sitting on it for almost twelve straight hours - including bathroom breaks. When the buzzer rings the two of you step back from your respective buildings and make your way to the starting point - which had been marked by a stack of 20 or so dirt blocks. 

“Well that was twelve hours of eye straining torture,” you say as you stretch your arms. 

“You're tired already?”

“Kinda… I can't wait to go to sleep after this.”

“Weak, I’m playing Battlefield as soon as this is over.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “this is why you look like a living corpse in the morning…”

Kenma looks you dead in the eyes and with a completely serious face he says, “yeah but you love it.”

You choke on your spit at his boldness, “y-yeah I guess.” 

If you were being honest, you were not the best at reading people and it was dark in Kenma’s gaming room, the only light coming from his three screen/monitor computer setup, but you think you see a light blush creep up to his cheeks. And you hate it, you hate when he says things that make your heart flutter, you hate it when he just sits there and the digital glow accentuates all of his delicate features, but what you hate most is yourself. You hate yourself because you have fallen in love with your best friend, you hate yourself because you know he doesn't like you back and you hate that you continuously give yourself a sense of false hope. 

“Yn… you want to stay up and game with me don’t you? ”

You sheepishly look to the side, ‘mayhaps.’

Kenma sighs looking at you with a soft face as he whispers “then I won’t play Battlefield and I’ll go to bed and so will you, ‘kay?”

You smile tiredly at him, “sounds like a deal.”

“We'll get back on at the same time tomorrow and we’ll do the final part of this video - the reveal. Until then.”

You smile and wave at the camera “cya soon~”

[recording over]

After your call with Kenma ended you got ready for bed but for some reason, no matter how tired you were, you just couldn't fall asleep - your mind was screaming obscene ideas that you couldn't help but contemplate. At first it was just wishful thinking but then came a thought that refused to leave, ‘confess.’ 

It was a tempting thought, but how? Surely you couldn't just say ‘hey Kenma I've liked you since high school lets date!’ yeah no, that was a horrible idea. Maybe if you confessed with some originality he would be more likely to accept but for now, you were going to do your best to go to sleep.

[Episode two]

[recording in 3… 2… 1… start!] 

In the morning you woke up feeling refreshed and excited for the day to come, Kenma had texted you and asked if you were feeling up to recording the reveal from last night and episode two today and of course you said yes. 

The video goes on without any troubles and soon you find yourself staring at the computer screen at eleven once again. 

“Remember to like, subscribe and comment below on who you think won this round.” Kenma’s voice is soothing - if you had to describe it you would say that it is silky like honey and smooth like dark chocolate; or maybe you would just say his voice is perfect. Kenma waves to the screen monitor, “hello? Earth to Yn! Are you dead or something? You look like a zombie.”

It takes a while to register, you weren’t really paying attention to the words he said as you were more interested in the way he sounded. You sit up and smile into the camera, “I'm awake… thanks for caring!”

He scoffs and swivels in his chair a bit, “I don't care about you, you're just my idiot best friend and flatmate.”

You playfully narrow your eyes, “well this idiot flatmate of yours helped you bake apple pie so you wouldn’t starve to death!”

“Hmmm, I guess. Well I'm going to head off. I'll see you later.”

You smile softly, “yeah I'll see you later, i'm just gonna stay on for a while.”

Kenma looks at you with an intrigued expression, “you're going to stay up longer? Better not be in this world, that's cheating. Want me to stay up with you?”

You roll your eyes and giggle, “it's all good I want to fix my house up in the other world. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He sighs, “if you say so.”

[recording over]

Your chair rolls back as you stretch, “maybe I should confess to him through a Minecraft journal…” you jump up. “Thats it! Thats a great way to confess! Its original and Kenma would appreciate it…. If he accepts my feelings that is…” 

You groan and slump back down into the chair, “maybe it’s best if I don't confess at all. No! I've wanted to do this for years! If he doesn't like me back it's all good! Maybe I just won't do this on a stream!”

You reach over to the bench and pull up your phone, “who to call, mmm ok let’s call Alisa I’m going to need some emotional support!”

“Hey gamers, Kodzu here in another Minecraft live stream, today we’re just in mine and Yn’s regular world and i'm going to build a house - a cottage to be specific,” he pauses and looks at the comment section; ‘no Yn isn't here right now, no Yn won't be joining this video, no I didnt know shes streaming at the moment, yes my favourite food is apple pie, yes I have a calico cat, no Yn is not my significant other, yes we are just friends.’ Kenma moves back and takes a breath, “wow you guys sure are interested in Yn huh? Maybe I should get them in more videos, might get more views that way,” he laughs a bit.

“Let's start off by heading to my base, I have the materials I’ll need there- oh uh what's this?” Kenma pauses as he stares at the foreign object, “I don't remember having a written book in my chest… maybe Yn went in here and put it in?”

Kenma stares at the book for a while before he opens it, only to be shocked. The comment section notices the blush on his face and continue to spam him with questions:

[kodzusbabe]: what's in that diary!!

[Kenmastan]: hahAAAHHA LOOK HE’S SO RED IN THE FACE

[piefacecutie]: ^^ omg you're so right @/Kenmastan hes so cute 💓

[Kenmaxyn]: I hope it's a confession!

[ynhater]: @/Kenmaxyn from who? Cause I didn't do it and I'd be the only one for Kenma oppAr

[kennismaken]: I hope it’s Yn! They’d be such a cute couple

[applepudding]: umm? Kodzu! Why did he get up and leave??

[ynhater]: babe come back!

[Kenmaxyn]: OMG MAYBE IT WAS YN !!!!

After your late night call with Alisa, you decided it would be best to just do it and then ignore Kenma for the day - well, not ignore him per se, just simply decline all his Discord calls and Facetime calls so you could put off being rejected a little while longer. You woke up with a throbbing headache that you could only blame yourself for, after all you are the dumbass who stayed up until God knows when just to write a heartfelt confession. Eventually the angst of waiting for a message from Kenma overwhelmed you and here you are now; streaming Overwatch to get your mind off of a certain someone.

“Ah no! Cant believe that stupid Hanzo got me! What a pain!” you frown at the screen and let out a sigh, “the round is over… bummer. Well while we wait an eternity for the next round I guess I should answer some of your questions… oh? I didn't know Kenma was streaming, no I’m not dating him… “ you feel your heart sink as you read the next comment; “what do you mean Kenma ran away after reading a book? Was he unhappy?”

The next moments felt like a blur, your heart was heavy and you felt tears well up in your eyes and somehow you missed the sound of someone breaking into your apartment and then your bedroom. Within a second you feel someone wrap their arms around you from behind, your body tenses up but immediately relaxes when you recognise the perpetrators scent; sweet yet salty, like caramel toffee.

“Kenma! W-what are you doing?”

“I like you too… I have for so long.”

Your eyes widen and it doesn't take too long for a smile to appear on your face, “I'm so glad to hear that.”

You feel him smile into your neck as his embrace tightens, “finish up your livestream so we can talk please.” 

“You don't need to tell me twice!”

It is eleven at night once again, but this time you’re not sitting alone in your gaming chair, instead you're sitting on Kenma’s lap - in his gaming chair as he slowly runs his hands through your hair and softly kisses your neck.

“So everyone’s pretty much freaking out over us huh?” you hum in response, “we’ve been officially together for what? Five hours?”

“Correct you are.”

You smile and hold up your phone while you continue to cuddle into him, “smile baby, I want the whole world to know that you're my player two.”

[Bonus - the love letter]

Dear Kenma,

This must be so strange - finding a journal in your chest. 

I have wanted to tell you this for quite a while and I guess I have never found the write words to say; or the right way to for that matter,

But I love you

I have loved you since our first year at Nekoma

It's been a while hasn’t it?

I'm sorry if this inconveniences you, makes you uncomfortable or makes you never want to see me again; 

Just let me continue for a little while longer because I need to get this off of my mind.

I love your smile - especially the rare one where you really smile, where your eyes crinkle and your cheeks begin to hurt 

I love your voice - it’s smooth and silky, like honey being spread across bread

I love your scent - it reminds me of salted caramel,  I can never get enough 

I love your mind - the way it works to make me laugh, make me calm and all else

I love your lips - not necessarily in a sexual way, but more so in the way you talk and speak, they move softly and slowly in a way only your lips could move in.

I love your body - how although you're hunched most of the time you still possess a fine elegance in the way you move. How at times it reminds me of a graceful swan floating down a lake. 

I love your hands - they are so pretty and dainty and soft, I want to hold them all day and all night

And most of all;

I love you

I love you in your entire

I could go ahead and pick the parts I love most and least but then you would no longer be you

I love you in your entire

Flaws and all

I know this may not be the most romantic, especially considering you’re reading this through Minecraft and I've never done this before but I had to let you know

Love 

Yn

Taglist: [open] @ladyrenart

note: sooo this is another style that i tried and i have mixed feelings about it :) also if you can’t tell,,, i’ve never written a love letter before :’)

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #kenma #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma angst #dear whoever #dear whoever: a haikyuu series #kozume kenma x reader

[libsterslobsters]

Dazed and Confused

Description: Almost a month has past since Bucky and the reader met. Since then, they've had absolutely no contact or communication. What happens when someone decides to make the first move? More importantly: is this a date?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! reader

(Reader can see shards of the future, understand all languages, and process information abnormally fast)

Warnings: Strong language, mostly fluff, mild angst, two idiots who could really benefit from a lesson in basic communication skills

Author's note: As per usual, the reader is unnamed, but when I'm writing, I refer to her as Violet. Also, Bucky Barnes is a poor lost puppy, and you can pry him from my cold, dead fingers before I'll let you hurt him.

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

 The text comes when he’s ankle-deep in various pipes and tools (he could call the building’s super to fix the plumbing but with this great new thing called the internet, he figured it would be pretty simple to figure out why every time he takes a shower, the bathroom sink fills with sludge), and his hands are so full, he can’t check it. Besides, Bucky reasons with himself, it’s probably nothing. Nobody texts him unless it’s a wrong number or a telemarketer. In fact, at this point, he’s not even sure why he has a phone.

 It takes a full hour to put everything back together (the youtube tutorials he watched made it all seem much simpler than it is), this time sans dead rat in the elbow fitting (he’s trying not to think too hard about that), and by that time, he’s nearly forgotten about the text. It’s only when he checks the time that he sees the alert on his phone. With a tap, he opens his messages, and as he reads the name attached to the latest one, he nearly drops the phone. It’s her.

 He hasn’t seen the woman who has visions in nearly a month. Never expected to hear from her again, if he’s being honest. But there it is: a message with her listed as the contact. It’s not very long; only four words, actually. “Hey. Are you busy?”

 He quickly types, “Why?” but realizes just as he’s about to hit “send” that it’s probably not the best response, all things considered (especially since he really, really wants to see her again… despite his better judgment). Alright, he needs to concentrate. Possibly, “That depends. What’ve you got in mind?” No. That’s too suggestive. Too flirty. Although he is flirting… sort of… maybe… he hasn’t figured that out yet. Finally, he decides to go with a simple, “No.” There. No way that can be misconstrued or make her uncomfortable (which is the last thing he wants to do). Unless she takes into account that it took him an hour to reply. Dammit. How do you even go about talking to a pretty girl these days? Is there a YouTube video on that?

 Two minutes tick by. Then five. Then fifteen. He’s almost decided she’s not going to respond when his phone chirps again. “Sorry. Got caught up grading a paper.” This time, he’s fast on the draw. “That’s fine.” But not fast enough, because before he can hit send, another message appears. “This may be weird, but would you want to meet up? It’s okay if not. I just don’t know many people, so…” So…? That’s it? Is he supposed to wait for her to finish the thought or come up with a witty reply? How the hell does he do this?

 Finally he comes up with another simple response. “When?” Great. He’s a monosyllabic wonder. It’s been a long time, and he can’t prove it (you know, because everyone who could bear witness to it is either ancient or dead) but he’s fairly certain he used to be better at this whole “talking” thing.

 Less than thirty seconds pass by before there’s another message. “Now.” Now? Now! Okay, yeah, that’s fine. The shower’s fixed, so maybe he can hose off and change clothes fast enough that it won’t cause much of a delay. But he also hasn’t shaved in… when was the last time he shaved? At least he did laundry two days ago, so he has something clean- another ding. “Or, you know, whenever.” followed by… a yellow smiling face with a bead of sweat. What does that mean? Why is the face yellow? Once again, a ding. “What I meant is, I have this afternoon free. If you do too, that would work fine. No pressure.” No, he’s free pretty much for the foreseeable future. He should probably say something back sooner rather than later.

 “Where?” No, that’s too short. “Where would you like to meet?” There. Better. Maybe. When did people stop talking on phones and only… texting? You used to be able to tell where a person stood because you could hear their voice. Now it’s all guesswork. God, he’s old. Definitely too old to be possibly thinking about her like-

 “Wherever is fine. We could do a coffee shop again, or my apartment. Whatever’s most convenient for you.” Ball’s in his court. Um… he’d really rather not be out in public. For now, he’s safe (at least as far as he can tell), but it’s always a gamble, him betting against himself that his simple disguises will work, he won’t be recognized. That leaves… oh boy.

 “Your place, if that’s alright.” That’s forward. Maybe too forward. She offered, but maybe that was just being polite? More importantly, is this a date? No. Can’t be. Possibly. Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!

 “Sure.” the words are followed by a string of numbers and a street name. “Just give me half an hour to make the place presentable.” Another yellow, sweaty smile. He really needs to look up what that means.

 “Alright. See you then.” He presses another button and the screen goes black. Thirty minutes. What can he do in thirty minutes? As he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he makes a decision. Start with getting the sewage off his face.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 “What the hell is the matter with me?” She mutters it to herself as, for the fourth time in ten minutes, she chances her clothes. “This is NOT a date. Not a date.” Just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl… she shakes her head. She needs to get a grip. Now. Because this is definitely not a date. Barnes might be many things, but at all interested in her THAT way is not one of them. How could he be? She’s… weird. And damaged. Not that he’s all there either, but the possibility of this being anything more than a potential friendship? Uh-uh. No way. She doesn’t need to see the future to know that much.

 A knock on her front door makes her jump, immediately hating herself. Why is she nervous? There’s nothing strange about this. People meet up all the time to talk and eat… in one or the other’s apartment… after finding out they both have special abilities. Okay, all of this is pretty strange, especially since it’s her.

 After taking one last glance in the mirror (and smoothing down her hair that’s sticking straight up, thanks to switching out her shirts so many times), she steps out of her bedroom and makes her way towards the door. Not a date, she mentally repeats to herself. No reason to be nervous. Not a date.Then why the hell is she shaking a little? She needs to get a grip. Now.

 Taking a deep breath, she pulls the door open (as it so happens, just as the man on the other side raises his hand to knock again).

 “Hey. You made it.” That sounded almost normal. Not like she’s quaking in her boots.

 “I did.” He’s smiling, so she must not sound as awkward as she feels.

 “Did you find the place okay?” Wow. She sounds like she’s reading from a script. A really boring script at that.

 “Yeah. There’s this thing called GPS now, and…” He trails off. “You probably already know about that.” Great. Now they’re both fish out of water.

 “I do. Super helpful.” It occurs to her that she’s just leaving him standing in the hallway, so she asks, “Would you like to come in?” Oh my god. Her brain. Where is it?

 “Thanks.” He doesn’t make a move, and that’s when she realizes she’s still blocking the doorway. Dumb-ass. Trying not to seem awkward, she walks backwards, promptly running into her kitchen chair.

 “Ouch.” Bucky winces, and she wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.

 “Graceful as an elephant.” She murmurs it under her breath, but a snicker from the man behind her lets her know it’s been heard. Right. Super hearing.

 “That should turn into a nice, purple bruise by tomorrow.”

 “Oh, yeah?” She calls it over her shoulder. “Do you see the future by any chance?”

 “Nah.” He shakes his head, grinning. He has a nice smile. No, she needs to stop thinking like that. Right now. “I’ve just had a lot of experience running into things.”

 They’ve gone so far into the room that they’ve walked straight past the tiny kitchen into the living room. She wasn’t really intending to jump straight into, “Why don’t we sit on the couch, which happens to barely be big enough for two people”, but there’s no way to work, “Let’s retrace our steps into the kitchen” into conversation smoothly, so she takes a seat, scooting as far to one side as she can.

 “I thought super soldiers were supposed to be agile.” Thank god, he’s sitting too.

 “They are, but for around twenty-eight years before that, I was as clumsy as the next person.” Immediately, he freezes. “Not that you’re clumsy-” So maybe she’s not the only one out of practice in the fine art of making friends.

 “No, you had it right. I am.” He still looks a little unsure so, ignoring the little voice in her head screaming, “Don’t do it! You’re coming on too strong!” she leans towards him. “Actually, that new bruise is the latest of at least five others I currently have, and I can’t remember how I got any of them.” Does that make her sound weird? But no, he seems to be rolling with it.

 “Haven’t you ever heard of looking where you’re going?” She goes out on a limb, assuming he’s joking.

 “I’ve heard of the concept, but I’m usually too busy looking ahead, so-”

 “Fair point.”

 There’s a lull in the conversation. It goes on so long, that she blurts out, “Are you allergic to anything?” just to fill the silence.

 “Huh?” He frowns. “Don’t think so. Why?” There actually is a reason, but now that she thinks about it, how would he be allergic to anything? If her frantic googling is correct, whatever Captain America is hopped up on took care of all physical weaknesses, so it’s unlikely Barnes will suffer anaphilactic shock due to something in her kitchen.

 “I cooked, and…” She trails off. “… never mind.”

 “Oh.” Now she really wishes her “power” had something to do with disappearing. “Thanks, um-” he clears his throat. “-was I supposed to bring anything? I thought about flowers, but-” he scratches the back of his neck, and if she had to guess, she’d say he’s nervous too.

 “No, just yourself.”

 “Great, because that’s all I brought.” Splendid. Neither of them know how to hold a conversation.

 Finally, she decides to just come out and say it:

 “I’m not good at this sort of thing.” He looks mildly confused, so she explains, “Talking to people. That is, unless I’m teaching them.”

 “I don’t think I am either.” She starts to ask, “You don’t think?” but reels it in. Apparently, her face must show what she’s thinking, because he continues. “This is the most of it I’ve done in a long time.”

 It’s completely inappropriate, but she laughs.

 “Same for me. Hiding out to avoid capture doesn’t really leave many opportunities to practice your social skills, does it?”

 He chuckles.

 “Not unless I’m doing it wrong.”

 It may be a mistake, but she decides to make a suggestion.

 “You know, I think I heard from someone that there’s this really great solution when two people are in a room together and are out of practice holding a conversation.”

 “What’s that?” At least he doesn’t seem offended.

 “Watching a movie.”

 “Huh.” He nods. “That was the go-to when the cat’s got your tongue back in my day too.” Good, so it’s not a foreign concept. “I’m afraid I don’t know of any theaters around here though, or even what’s playing.”

 “Not a problem.” As she says it, she powers up her laptop “Any preferences? They’ve got pretty much anything if you know where to look.”

 He thinks for a minute, then asks, “Fantasia? Do you think they have that?” It’s an unexpected request; out of all things, the ex-soldier wants to see a Disney movie.

 “I’m sure they do. Give me a second.”  Luckily, it’s on the first service she tries.

 As the opening credits play, she struggles not to laugh at how wide his eyes go.

 “How did you-”

 “It’s on Netflix.” Nothing. He doesn’t know what that is. “It’s a website. I just typed in what I wanted to find, and there it is.”

 The only sound for a few minutes is the swelling music coming from the speakers, then finally, Bucky murmurs,

 “I don’t think I’ve been using the internet to it’s full potential.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

 “Really?” Somehow, over the course of the evening, they’ve stopped sitting stiffly next to each other and watching their words. Now she’s turned towards him, a plate balanced on her knees, both of them completely ignoring the movie playing in the background. “A rat in your pipes? Are you serious?”

 He nods.

 “Afraid so.”

 “How the hell did it even get in there?”

 “Beats me. I didn’t ask it.”

 She’s got a great laugh, Bucky thinks to himself. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to give into the giggles too.

 “That’s probably for the best. From the sound of things, it wasn’t in any condition to answer your questions.”

 He’s about to shoot back a reply, but then he remembers.

 “That reminds me-” Careful not to elbow her (this sofa is barely a sofa; he’s not complaining though, because now that the ice has been broken, it’s actually kind of nice being close to another person again), he digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up her texts from earlier. “-what does this yellow face mean?”

 She frowns and leans towards him (she smells like cinnamon, maybe cloves… it’s not weird that he’s noticed that, right?).

 “Oh.” Again, that laugh, but quieter this time. “It basically means, ‘I’m second guessing what I just said and I hope it didn’t come off the wrong way.’”  That makes sense, given the context, but he still has another question.

 “But why is the face yellow?”

 Her brow furrows slightly as she thinks.

 “You know, I’m really not sure. That’s just how most emojis look.”

 “Emojis?”

 “May I?” She indicates his phone.

 “Sure.”

 With a brief tap to the screen, a full page of yellow faces (amongst other odd symbols) appears.

 “These are emojis. They sort of add interest to a text.”

 “Huh.” Taking back the offered phone, he studies the symbols. “That would’ve been useful to have when we sent telegrams.” As soon as he says it, he realizes how he sounds. “I just dated myself, didn’t I?”

 She smirks.

 “Just a little, but don’t worry. It’s charming.”

 He places a smile on his face and laughs lightly, but on the inside, he’s still trying to figure out whether or not this is a date. Is she, against all odds, actually interested in him, or is she just being kind? Two hours later when the clock strikes nine, he’s still not sure.

 “Well, I hate to kick you out, Bucky, but I have a student coming by tomorrow at seven a.m., so I need to get to bed.” Has he overstayed his welcome? But no, she doesn’t look offended.

 “Sure. No problem.” He stands and, without thinking, offers her his hand to pull her up, which she takes. How long has it been since he’s touched another person, or another person has touched him, like that? A casual gesture that normal people with simple secrets share?

 “Thanks for the meal, by the way.”

 “Oh, no trouble.” She still hasn’t let go. “Did you want to take some leftovers with you?”

 “No, that’s okay.” Yes, he really does want to (its much better than what he usually comes up with on his own) but if he had to venture a guess, she probably doesn’t have the funds to be giving away food willy-nilly.

 “Alright.” She pulls her hand away, and immediately, he feels colder.

 They walk single file towards the door (this apartment is too small for them both to pass through  shoulder-to-shoulder), her right behind him. As he pulls open the door, he tells her,

 “Thanks again for everything.”

 She chuckles.

 “Thank you for the conversation.”

 He’s about to say something more (although he’s not sure what) when she wraps her arms around him in a hug. It takes a second for him to realize what’s happening, but then he returns the embrace.

 It’s over far too quickly, and when she stands back, her cheeks are flushed.

 “Be careful on your way home.”

 “Will do. Have a good night.”

 On the bus ride home, he plays over the events of the evening. He’s still uncertain as to whether or not it was a date. He feels like it was, but it’s been so long… time to consult the internet. As it turns out, there’s quite a few websites that offer opinions on the subject. He finds one that has a quiz attached and, calculating how much time it’ll take him to get home, decides to take it.

 The questions are pretty generic, and he gets through them in under two minutes. Waiting for the result to load, however? He’s back in his apartment before he gets a solid answer on that. There’s a graph showing how they measure each factor, but the final result is stands at, “You’ve been on a date- likelihood, 99%.” Huh. First time in seventy years. Maybe he’ll give the whole “texting” thing another go.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 Morning dawns far too early for her liking, and with it, her memories of last night return. It was going okay. Really it was. Until she hugged him, that is. Oh my god. Why couldn’t she show some common sense for once? Friends don’t hug goodbye, especially not, “I’m just getting to know you” friends. She’s never going to hear from him again because she came on too strong, and now he really doesn’t want to have the, “I’m not attracted to you” conversation.

 As she makes a cup of tea, a scene plays out before her eyes. The phone dings with a text alert under the name “Barnes.” She doesn’t realize it’s a vision until that exact thing happens ten seconds later. “Wow. So helpful. Really.” She mutters to herself. It’s almost as useful as someone yelling “Duck!” just as you get hit in the head.

 She really shouldn’t read the message. She has a job to do, a student to teach, and if she’s distracted during their lesson, she’ll feel terrible. But, another “ding” sounds and curiousity gets the better of her.

 The first text is simple: “Good morning” followed by… she has to choke back a laugh… several various smiley faces. Guess he’s decided to give emojis a go. “Hope your class goes well today.” Shaking her head, she scrolls down to the next message. “Last night was fun. Would you want to do it again sometime?”

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” She whispers as her fingertips make contact with the keyboard. Maybe he didn’t take it as her trying to make something happen between them that never will. Or maybe he’s just been away from normal human interraction for so long, he’s accepting whatever she throws at him simply so he’ll have a friend. Either way, she likes him and would like to know him better, and if that means swallowing down the silly crush that’s starting to develop, she can do that.

 “Good morning. That sounds great.” She types back, then puts her phone on silent. Certain areas of her life may be changing, but for now- a knock sounds on her door- class is in session.

#marvel #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #avengers #captain america

[flowerslightning]

The OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) in FF7

This thing actually caught my eyes while reading a few theory about FF7R and the word OCD appear in their certain analysis, in IG, youtube comments and some posts in tumblr too. Dunno why but they always relate Biggs with OCD. I looked back to the scenes where Biggs appear and... Okay, i understand why they thinj Biggs has OCD or perfectionist

A lot of people, including the psych students themselves easily confused with OCD and perfectionist (I got confused by it quite often too). Now, is Biggs OCD or is he just a perfectionist? Let's take a deeper look at it

Biggs is not a famous character. So fans dont really care about him, but I do

Disclaimer : i'm not a psychologist. Im an intern and still studying. Psychiatric is not my major field but i got assigned there as an intern for quite a time and we got exposed a lot about psychology too. We didnt learn them professionally like the real psyche students, we learned (and still under training) through real life experience + a little bit from the books.

So there might be wrong interpretation here and there. Pls correct me if I'm misleading u. And pardon my english. Pls dont use any of these terms to diagnose urself. Remember, I'm a student, not a professional.

I kins of blame the social media for portraying OCD in such a nasty way, when someone with OCD is actually suffering inside.

OCD is not just about 'clean clean, must clean this place till squeaky clean' and OCD is not about being perfectionist. OCD and perfectionist are two different thing.

Perfectionist is more to a demand demeanour, eg "I want the cake to be like this. I want it to be pink. No, not that pink, it must be neon pink with slight purple. Do it again. No, i dont want that pink. Do it again. Ahhh yess, nice pink." Someone with perfectionist, after they got their result, they will immediately bcome calm and satisfied. Perfectionist is obviously different from OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder). OCPD falls under Personality Disorder and it is different from OCD. Im not going to talk about that

Credit goes to crazyheadcomics.

Look at how OCD got spoken from the media perspective. It is very much resemble to Biggs, dont u think? In reality, someone with OCD always feel stress about everything around them, and they will find it hard to complete their task.

OCD has two components - Obsessive and Compulsive

| 1. Obsessive. It is a repeating thoughts about something and often occur until it makes someone feel stress about it. Eg, u think that ur hand will get bacteria infection if u touch a chair, door, fridge or when holding someone's hand. This thought always appear in ur mind everytime u touch the door, chair, fridge or somebody's hand, but when u touch ur shoes, u never think about the bacteria (in certain cases, some patients become scare of everything they touch)

| 2. Compulsive. It is a repeating of the same actions to fulfill the 'obsession' in order to reduce the stress acted upon them. Usually the 'action' has a specific ways in which the patient believe he has to do it like this or that way or else he will fail. Eg, after touching the chair, he will immediately wash his hand 10x from left to right. He believes the hand washing wont be effective if he starts from right to left

Another sign of OCD is when someone re-checking the door lock few times. Its normal for us to re-check once/twice the door lock for confirmation, but for people with OCD, they will re-check the door lock for about 6-10 times and still not feel satisfied and later they stress out. And also the OCD people, they tend to get annoyed when something is not in particular order and they will immediately fix it eventhough they know they're wrong.

I met a funny woman at the hosp arranging our students' books according to its thickness, when I asked her why did she arranged our books like that,

She replied : "Doctor said I have CDO"

Me : "Sorry, CDO? Never heard of it"

She : "It is actually OCD but I feel so stress hearing that term so I put it in alphabetical order. CDO, much better"

We both had a good laugh. Her case was not serious though, but she was feeling miserable with her thoughts and decided to meet a psychiatrist. I would say she was still in early stage for someone with OCD, but may lead to severe if left untreated

It is really hard to satisfy and convince someone with OCD and they always feel stress about something they shouldnt care too much about. U can say OCD is a fastidious type, and they're actually more than that

If we want to relate this condition with Bigg's case., urmm. The only time where I can spot him being different than the other characters is when he's busy sweeping his front house and when he pat Cloud's head during the Sector 7 plate fall.

The cleaning stuff isnt exactly weird thing for a human to do. But it is something odd, I mean, he just finished his mission with Jessie and survived a jump from the plate, and yet he still have the energy to sweep dry leaves, AT NIGHT! He can wait till tomorrow though and should get himself a proper rest.

Wedge says Biggs has a habit of overthinking stuff

And there we see Biggs sweeping the dry leaves. It might be because he is trying to distract himself from doing his bad habit - overthinking. But urm , i think there'll be higher chance for someone to overthink when doing house chore like Biggs is doing. This is where lots of people say Biggs cleaning the house at night is bcause he has OCD or he's a perfectionist.

But I dont think thats the case. For real, he is completely normal. No sign of him acting weird in that scene. If he really does have OCD or he's a perfectionist, we'll see more of him arguing with Barret about unnecessary stuff. He cant become one of Avalanche's strongest member (not exactly strong, but hey, he's trustworthy). Also, if u notice, Biggs have one earring on his right ear. Someone with OCD will feel irritated by it bcause his ear doesnt look 'balance'. OCD people, even in mild case, they want everything about them to be balance and in good order.

After trying to understand Biggs way of thinking and style through his short screentime, I strongly believe this guy has no such thing as OCD or being a perfectionist. Biggs just cares tooooo much about his friends, he thinks 10 times ahead from the bigger picture in which it frightens him about the bad consequences that will occur to people he cherish.

He is the type that always have a back up plan in his mind. He thinks of 5 possible bad things and comes out with 10 solutions. That's the power of an overthinker like Biggs I'll tell ya

Biggs probably cleaning his front house area at night bcause the next early morning, he will need to leave his house for the bombing mission. Better take care of things the night before the big day. He can ditch the cleaning work but he wont do it, not bcause he's a perfectionist/OCD, but try to imagine this, if ur front house is full with dry leaves and rubbish, it will be unpleasant for the neighbours next to ur house to see. Living in the slum means higher chance for u to get sick if u dont take care of ur surrounding hygiene. Biggs is a kind man, and I believe he doesnt want to upset his neighbours

He probably has overthink this matter like "If i dont do this now, I probably dont have time for doing it tomorrow. Maybe I'll broke my leg from the mission and this trash will be left untouched, then there'll be high chance for the children around here to get sick. What if they get infectious disease bcause of this dry leaves? And then the parents will be worried and the Sector 7 Slum will be in chaos etc etc. Time for plan A. Let's clean this place"

Besides, remember the post where I mentioned about Mental Health First Aid? Biggs, as the side character gives the best MFA to Cloud even without knowing what Cloud had gone through. Biggs is just toooo kind with his friends, he cares too much causing him to overthinks about his friends conditions. He can notice even the slightest change in his friend's behaviour and with his own instinct, he cheers for them

Aww man, how can u not love his personality? He's the sweetest side character ever (and kinda hot too).

Soo as the conclusion for my post here, Biggs does not have OCD. He's a side character with a big heart who cares tooooooo deeply about his friends that leads him to overthink too much.

However, if the devs say Biggs really has OCD then my statement about him will be invalid. I'm sure they have put everything in a very close detail look.

Btw, I personally think Biggs kind of portrays the other small side of Cloud, the overthinking part for their romantic partner. But Biggs express his worry through words while Cloud express it through his actions, eg - like how he always keep an eye on Tifa. He never speak it directly like "I'm worry about Tifa, I must help her", he just simply be with her either she needs a help or not. While Biggs clearly says "Jessie been acting weird, I should go if she needs any - help -"

Action speaks louder than words but sometimes our eyes failed to listen.

Alright, that's it. Thanks for being with me till the end.

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy 7 remake #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #biggs #biggs final fantasy #ffvii biggs #mygif #character analysis

[twokinkybeans]

Stark On Ice Chapter 3: 7 A.M.

7 A.M.: “Seriously, another romantic song? What the fuck, Steve.”

Peter bites down his bottom lip at Tony’s snarky reply to the song reveal. It’s Monday morning, and they’re discussing their plan for the upcoming week. They’re looking at their seventh show already and from now on they’ll have to perform two choreos rather than just one. It’s safe to say that Tony is stressed. He’s tired. Tired of the intensive training for a sport he’d never done in his life. Tired of the country’s eyes on him. Of course, he’s used to being in the center of attention, but never before had his sexuality been such a hot item. Peter knows how much pressure there is on him right now, and he doesn’t really blame him for feeling on edge. However, he will not allow the man to scold their friend and coach just like that.  “Tony, come on, it’s-” “Oh,” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Shut up.”

What?

Peter scoffs and raises from his seat. Tony’s lips part and Peter can see the regret crossing his face. He feels bad for the man, but he’s not going to let himself be treated this way. He doesn’t want to practice lifts when the man is this tense. So he grabs his bag and sighs. “Alright, then. Go home, take care of yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wha-” He hears Tony’s dumbfounded voice behind him. Peter simply ignores it and lets out a small breath when the door falls shut behind him. He almost feels guilty about walking away without saying another word. Without giving Tony a chance to speak. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they’ll discuss it properly. 

He heads towards the rink downstairs and smiles at the familiar, comforting cold when he steps inside. It’s not like Tony is the only one who’s made sacrifices to participate in the contest. It’s been too long since Peter just… Skated. No choreo, no teaching, just flowing wherever the music takes him. Since it’s only 7 am the rink is still nearly empty. Peter sits down at one of the benches and slides his feet inside the skates. He doesn’t even bother taping his ankles the way he usually does to protect his skin. He won’t be on the ice too long anyways. He- “Hey, Pete.” Peter turns around and is surprised to see MJ standing on the ice and leaning on the edge of the rink.  “Hey hey,” he replies, forcing a smile on his lips. He enjoys seeing her, but somehow the little incident with Tony has crept under his skin. “Trouble in paradise, huh?” “Ugh, Tony’s a genuinely nice man, but he’s awfully stressed out and taking it out on Steve and me.” “So you left?” “Mh-mh.” “Cool. That’ll do him some good. Now get your ass over here and skate with me.” 

Peter smiles and gets up, letting his worries glide off his shoulders when he feels the smooth ice allowing him to slide across. This is where he belongs most. This is where he feels free. MJ grins and grabs both his hands. She too is meant for figure skating. Her grace, her passion, her- Peter frowns and tightens his grip on her hands a little. His head snaps up worriedly. Her fingers are rough and chafed. And thin. “Michelle,” he breathes quietly. The girl freezes right where she stands, and he feels the tension rising in her body. “Peter, it’s nothing I swear.” “Then how did you know what I was gonna say?”

MJ presses her lips together and pulls her hands back. She crosses her arms in an attempt to hide them. Peter takes a quick glance at her body and feels panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t been paying attention. Hadn’t seen it coming. Her thin frame is showing more bone than it usually does. He spots how she tried to use a thicker pair of leggings to cover it up, but he knows her. “It’s…” MJ sighs. She knows that he knows. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.” Her voice is small and defensive. Scared. Peter’s heart tugs at his chest and he bridges the gap between them. MJ relaxes slightly in his hold. How hadn’t he seen it earlier? “Has anyone… Said, y’ know, stuff to you?” Peter asks carefully. MJ shakes her head right away. “Not directly. It’s...” Her voice trails off, and she stares at her toe picks. “YouTube is different than national television. People have strong opinions. If they don’t like Clint, they hate me. If they love Clint, they hate me. I… My thoughts… They try to come up with a solution on how to fix that.” “Em…” “Peter, please. Don’t worry about it too much ‘kay? I’ve already told Pep. She’s getting me a referral to Dr. Banner again.”

Peter stares at her in awe and tears cloud his vision. “I am so proud of you,” he chokes out and hugs her again, more tightly this time. She’s been struggling again, but… She spoke to her coach about it. Pepper is fantastic, she’ll definitely make sure MJ gets the care she needs so much. He feels her smile against his cheek, and he sighs. It’s not the first time she’s struggled with food. It’s hard, in the ice skating world. Most skaters have… a handful of bad habits to cope with the stress of upholding their physique and nailing every performance. Peter has a bad habit of not taking good care of his blistered toes until he literally can’t walk. Sometimes, he pulls an all-nighter just to watch stupid movies on Instagram or TikTok or whatever, because the thought of laying down in the dark by himself is too much. It’s not right, but… He thinks he’s still doing reasonably well. Not aiming for the Olympics definitely helps. The thought alone has him shudder.

MJ nudges his side, and the movement has him break from his string of thought. “Wanna skate together?” MJ’s posture stills show how uncertain she feels, but her eyes light up at her mere suggestion, so Peter can’t say no. He never could. Not his skating partner and friend. “Of course, I… Did you eat this morning?” MJ presses her lips together again, but nods. “I… Yeah. I did. Not much, but enough to train. I promise.” “Good. Alright, let’s go through Watermelon Sugar?” “Ohhhh yes, I’d love that!”

Breathe me in, breathe me out, I don’t know if I could ever go without.

-

After an hour of training, Peter called for a break. In all honesty, he just didn’t want MJ to overtrain. He invited her into his little studio for a second breakfast instead. She’s seated at his kitchen table now while Peter preps their meal. “So about you and Tony-”

Her sentence is cut off by Peter’s phone vibrating on top of the kitchen counter. Incoming Call: Tony Stark. For a split second Peter debates whether he should ignore or pick up. He low-key wants to hear what Tony has to say. He taps the green button and brings the phone to his ear, sliding his other hand through his hair nervously. “Hi, Tony.” “Peter, hey.” Quiet. “Thank you for picking up.” “Yeah.” “I… I am sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Tony whispers. “Or Steve, of course.” 

Peter frowns a little, but a smile creeps onto his face. He honestly hadn’t thought that Tony Stark would apologize this soon. “Mmmh, apologies accepted, Tony. Thank you for calling me. I’m sorry too, I probably shouldn’t have left.” “Would… Would you be up for a cup of coffee later? My treat, of course.” Peter eyes MJ real quickly. The girl, who has already figured out what’s happening, waves her hand quickly. “Go!” she mouths. Peter grins. “Yeah, sure thing.” And feeling a little bold, he adds. “Only if you come to pick me up in one of your fancy cars personally.” Both MJ and Tony snort in unison.  “Deal.”

-

Peter sips his mocha latte and groans quietly when a dot of whipped cream sticks to his upper lip. He sucks his lip into his mouth and sighs contently. Only then he realizes that Tony is watching him. Peter blushes, and- 

Oh god. He blushed. He blushed. Nononono-

“I, eh,” he stutters and puts the mug down. He wants to say something but he has no clue what. He can’t shake the feeling that the way they’re hanging out now very much resembles a date.  God, especially since MJ showed him this… fanfiction thing earlier this morning. He’s heard of the phenomenon before, but never in his whole life did he think that one day people would be writing about him. MJ told him ever so seriously that she had, in fact, read some of them, and she’d been gushing about this Superhero AU where Peter is a kid with spider powers and Tony a mechanic that built a metal suit to fight off Earth’s greatest villains. As she explained the plot, Peter had to admit it did sound rather creative.  No clue why someone would give him weird insect powers, but if it works, it works, right?

It’s just that he… He never quite realized how smitten he is with Tony until MJ quoted a love scene, causing Peter to feel this stab of jealousy in his chest because fiction-Peter could have Tony, and he  couldn’t. So now, with Tony watching him like that, it seems like a slight overload of his senses. It has him paralyzed. Good or bad, he hasn’t figured out yet. Thank God it’s Tony who breaks the silence between them.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier today, Peter. I’m not sure what came over me, I… I panicked.” Tony sighs and stares at the floor. Peter’s earlier worries moving to the back of his mind. He feels they’re treading on thin ice. “Y’know Peter, my dad… He was very much against homosexuality. Always warned me. Threatened me. I know he’s not here to judge me anymore but… It feels wrong that the entirety of the US knows now… It’s- I don’t-” Tony can’t seem to find the right words and he casts his eyes down. His fingers curling around the ear of the mug a bit too tightly. His knuckles white, other hand pressed into the wooden table. Peter swallows. Carefully, he reaches out for Tony’s shaky hand. “Hey,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Tony lifts his head slowly at those words. Peter’s heartbeat picks up rapidly when he sees Tony’s longing, no- yearning stare. Could this mean… It feels far too intimate and yet not close enough where their hands are touching. Peter slowly curls his fingers to drag the tips across the back of the man’s hand. Tony clears his throat.  “I…” his voice sounds squeaky and tense. “It feels wrong that the entire US has seen how I fell in love with you, and I barely even registered it.”

Peter can’t seem to breathe anymore. He blinks. Once. Twice. Did Tony really just say that? He feels sweaty, hot all over. Flustered, confused. He opens his mouth only to shut it again and blows his cheeks up- a stupid nervous tick. Tony’s hand twitches underneath his own, and then the man tries to slide it back. “Peter, I’m so sorry, I thought maybe-” Peter grabs Tony’s hand more tightly. “ Yes. ” Peter rushes as he suddenly finds his voice again. “Tony... Yes. I feel the same way.” 

Both men stare at each other intently. Their hands painstakingly close, yet they both press into each other a bit more. Peter’s gaze drops to Tony’s slightly parted lips. Oh, how he wants to kiss him. How he wants to feel the rough stubble against his cheeks. He wants to taste the dark, bitter espresso lingering on the man’s tongue as they breathe into each other. When Peter looks up, he can see the exact same thoughts crossing Tony’s mind and he gasps. The older man groans and pulls his hand back quickly.

“We can’t. Not… Not in here, Peter.” “Too public, I get it.” “Yeah.” “I-” Peter’s voice is cut off by the sudden loud ringtone playing from Tony’s phone. The man curses under his breath and grabs it from the table. “Shit, it’s Happy. I gotta take this one,” Tony apologizes, and Peter nods. The boy leans back in his chair and licks his lips absentmindedly as he gestures for Tony to pick up. He doesn’t quite follow what Tony says to his assistant. Chauffeur. PA. Whatever Happy’s function is. All he sees is how Tony’s expression darkens and he knows it’s not a good sign. Tony rambles on and then ends the call. Peter tilts his head. “You have to go, don’t you?” Peter sees the way Tony’s expression falters and sighs when the man nods. Confirming his suspicions. “I am so so so sorry, you have no idea how badly I want to stay here, with… With you.” Tony’s voice sounds so soft and gentle, and a downhearted smile tugs on his lips. Peter wants to bridge the gap between them and kiss him anyways. Make him stay. But he knows that Tony runs a business. If it’s important, it’s important.  “Go. We have time.” “Yeah,” Tony breathes. He leans forward again and quickly squeezes Peter’s hand. “We do.” 

Peter watches how Tony grabs his jacket and gives him one last dazzling smile before hurrying out of the little cafe. Peter huffs a bewildered breath now that reality crashes down on him. He smiles into the distance as he picks up his mocha latte and chuckles to himself when he realizes he’s counting down the hours until tomorrow morning, 7 am. That’s when they’ll see each other again in the rink. He smiles when he realizes that their song is, indeed, yet again, a romantic song.

I been tryna call I been on my own for long enough Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe

---

Masterpost Next Chapter

#adult peter parker #starker #stark on ice #figure skating au #peter parker #tony x peter #peter x tony #tony stark #fanfiction #fan fiction #fandom #fanfic #fan fic #marvel #mcu

[neocity-sarai]

Under the Lights

۞ mark lee x reader (based on my fic “fight for you”) 

۞ alerts: kissing, spicy dancing, language, angst (thank you for 200 followers. that’s just a number that doesn’t amount to how much true support I have received. seriously, thank you!)

۞  inspired by this lovely edit made by @/kpopmood on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZV4rvsaB0hE&t=12s (please go check out the creator’s videos!) 

It’s funny how the night time used to be your favorite part of the day. It’s the way the moon would shine, casting it’s light on the rippled puddles in these streets, colors would bounce off the artificial rainfall and on all the glowing city sign boards. That was how it was. Walking through the city would make your heart swell with excitement- how everything was immersed in a pool of technicolor, eyes bright with adventure. That’s because he was there. Mark. Mark Lee. The boy who saved you from some homeless man that was trying to hit on you. He looked so noble then, doe eyes gazing at you, lips curled into a smile. It always replays in your mind, the memory of the way your cheek feels on Mark’s shoulder. The way that his warm, soft lips feel on yours as people bustle along the city streets below you. The way he’d play his guitar and his singing voice as you drifted off to sleep. Every time the night overtakes the sun, he’s all the runs in your mind. It’s like a cycle that never really ends even when you’re awake and doing something else. Now, you’re all alone again. That night that Mark died. His crimson blood stained on your hands. It never really washes off. You spent months blaming yourself, blaming yourself for the loss of the one person you never wanted to lose. Foolishly, you thought you could fix it. Kynigos had inputted a function into everyone’s headsets that you could leap into different time periods, view memories, and create an all encapsulating virtual environment all stemmed from your mind. That’s what you used to get to know Mark better, seeing the inside of his life. It’s what made you fall in love with him, this innocent, handsome dork.

[months earlier]

Are you sure about this?

You laugh, “I want to dance, silly!”

You waste no time, grabbing Mark’s hand. It was Haechan’s birthday, Mark’s best friend. Of course, you had met Mark’s other friends in the meantime too. Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin were already wasted drunk in the bar that you were at and downing several shots of liquor didn’t help your case either. The bar was a wide space, strobe lights of violets, indigos, and red beat to the pump of the music as virtual dancers twirled their ribbons in light cages. Other strangers gathered around the bar, clamoring to dance and to drink. Normally, you’d never go to a place like this but somehow, Haechan had convinced you to have fun with the group anyway. You couldn’t say no. 

You were dressed in a pretty outfit, makeup to match the sequins of the giant disco ball, and it makes Mark gulp nervously every time you would brush arms. He was dressed in a nice satin shirt and some jeans, complete with his favorite pair of dress shoes. Mark doesn’t budge when you try to pull him to the dance floor, staring down at your hand clamped over his. You turn back at him, “Is everything okay?”

Mark nods almost too violently, “Yeah! I’m just- surprised is all.”

You have to shout over the bass that shakes the floor and makes the tiles glow a million colors, “Surprised over what?!”

Mark shakes his head, “I don’t know how to dance well!”

You slap him in the back, “It’s fine, come on!”

By the time you squeeze your way through all the people, you try to pay no mind to the girls who are dancing on their dates or the drunkards who are dancing alone. You start to move your body, rolling and moving your hips to beat of the song innocently. Mark stands still, watching you as he moves shyly, trying to wiggle to the beat too. Others may laugh but you think he has his own charm. He laughs along with you, fingers covering his eyes because of how embarrassed he is. With the alcohol that runs in your veins, you stop moving, pulling him closer, “Just relax, Mark.”

He stops too, eyes widened from your proximity, “I-okay.”

You put your arms around Mark’s neck and you notice how he bites his red lip, eyes fluttering everywhere, “Can I, uh-”

You take it upon yourself to guide his clammy hands onto your hips, his touch surges electricity down your spine but try hard not to show it. Finally, you feel Mark relax next to you as he lets out a sigh when he rests his forehead against yours. You chuckle, moving together in syncopation, “See, you got it.”

Mark smiles, eyebrows raised, “Only because you’re leading.”

Then, your friends find you both in the middle of the extremely crowded, sweaty dance floor and you can tell because of Haechan’s drunk yells and Jaemin’s curses when he can’t stand up straight. The lights fade from a multitude of colors to a stark violet shade, the song switching tempos to a slower, more sensual beat. It sparks heat on your body, fingers craving for wild touches and the boy who’s in front of you. Being Mark, he panics a little, caught off guard by the sudden change in atmosphere. Because he lets go of you, you can’t but feel disappointment. Jeno, drunk off strawberry smirnoff and lime margaritas swings you around to him, “Come on, y/n! Dance with me!”

You laugh, tripping over your own heels. Still, you jump up and down with Jeno and the rest of the boys, riding the beat along with them as people begin to dance on top of you. Everything is blurry and it feels like you’re losing yourself into blinding light, your hair sticking to your skin from how hot it is. You let the music run through you, wracking through your body. You almost don’t realize that Mark is standing by you all as he watches you, Jeno, and Renjun. Mark looks away, fists curled into his palms. His lips are slightly pouted, his perfectly styled hair becoming more messy. So, you tread back to him, pushing past all the girls who glare at you for interrupting their energies, but you don’t care. 

“Is everything okay? We can get out of here if you want-”

Mark stares at you, wasting no time to pull you flushed against his chest, his hand protectively flat against the small of your back, “Why are you dancing with him when you were dancing with me?”

You realize that Mark’s tone is deeper than before, his shy attitude abandoned before you can respond to his command, “We just kind of got caught in the moment, I’m really sor-”

Mark’s lips barely brush past your ear, he growls a little, “Be close to me, y/n. I want you right here.”

You’re startled by Mark’s sudden shift in attitude, it makes you shiver from the thought. 

“Okay.”

So you both let yourselves go. You dance with Mark, letting him twirl you under the lights and you swing your hips against him, not actually having danced with anyone like this before. Mark groans from your body against his, his fingers curled tight on your hips. The bass shakes your bodies, rumbling through the atmosphere like earthquakes and even though your feet are numb, you still keep going. Then, Mark spins you around so you’re facing him, “Let’s go.”

Before you can reply, he’s whisking you out of the bar and out of the virtual portkey at the entrance. Suddenly, you’re back on Everlane street which is the street where you and Mark had first met. Outside, the night sky is covered with a net of swirling stars and cars zoom across the sky overhead. Robots advertise menus for the cafes and restaurants that line the sidewalk, romantics happening on every corner. The breeze in the night smells sweet, bringing back the flood of memories. Mark begins to lead you into the double doors of his 3 story apartment, reaching in his jean pocket for his keys. You follow him up the stairs, entering the living room that is familiar to you. The apartment feels like Mark. It’s a studio apartment, the furniture beiges and whites, the carpets a light grey. Just as Mark throws his keys onto the counter, he grabs you by the shoulders, his hands warm on your skin, “I’m sorry if I acted weird back there. I was just looking forward to dancing with you and drunk ass Jeno swept you away…”

Mark’s eyes are sad, his lips pouted as you bring your hand to the curve of his cheek, “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Mark jokingly frowns, “I think I would’ve gone crazy if they touched you.”

You laugh, “I love you. Nobody else, okay?”

Then Mark presses his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around the waist of your dress where you ribbon belt is tied before smashing his lips against yours. You stumble back on your heels, your back and Mark’s hands against the rim of the counter like he’s trapping you in. You run your hand through Mark’s silver hair, drunk off the cologne that he wears. Mark bites down on your lip, making you groan. You mumble on his lips, “You’re not upset right?”

Mark chuckles, running his hand along your thigh and moving down to press kisses to your neck, “What if I said that I was?”

You tug on Mark’s hair, you’re absolutely breathless, “You shouldn’t be. There’s no reason to.”

Mark pulls your ribboned belt, letting it fall to the floor on a pile, “Shouldn’t you prove it to me then?”

Mark goes back to kissing your lips and you mumble, “How should I do that?”

And expecting him to take things further, Mark reaches behind you for something in his coin bowl that’s shaped like a watermelon slice. You pull away from his lips, staring at the pair of keys he has in his hand. Mark jangles them, “Y/n, would you like to move in with me?”

You eye him with shock, “Wait- did you just- wait, for real?”

Mark nods, “I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now, just didn’t know when.”

“So you’re asking now?!”

Mark smiles a toothy grin, threatening to burst into laughter, “Yes?”

You smile into your hands, “I’d love to.”

Launching yourself into Mark’s arms, he catches you, kissing you with fervor once more. 

[current time]

Tomorrow, you had a mission. Ever since Mark’s been gone, you and the boys have been working to clear levels and gain more skills. You swore to yourself that even though you couldn’t bring Mark back, you didn’t want men like Mr. C going around killing people. Everyone calls them the Underground, a mafia-like organization that tries to take advantage of the Kynigos system and force kids to do their dirty work so they don’t get caught. They rob people of their points, their skills so that they can become more powerful. They don’t have morals and they don’t care either. So, you and the rest of the boys formed the Right Compass, an organization of hyper-intelligent headset users to combat the Underground. Renjun and Jaemin are in charge of the tech, Chenle and Jisung are in charge of outreach and recruitment, and you and Jeno are the honorary agents. Besides Mark, you trusted the boys more than anyone else. After Mark’s passing, it brought you closer together-- forming the Right Compass in Mark’s name. 

Your mission was that the government had sent an infiltrator spy to scout the Underground levels, to crack down where the heart of the organization is. No one knows and that’s why you and the boys have been tracking leads since you first knew about it. There’s some sightings, maybe a cloudy witness here and there but nothing definite. Your mission was to find the undercover spy and convince them to do a covert operation with the Right Compass. You wanted them to see how strong you were as a united front and how many members had solved crimes, big or small. You and Jeno had packed light. You had dressed in all black so that you could blend into the shadows, your beam-powered guns strapped to your holster. 

Jeno nods at you, his glass-lenses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he coats them with invisibility spray. You do the same, it makes you both less noticeable. You nod, hopping up on your hoverboard as Jeno does the same, shooting up into the sky. You ride your board over the city, the lights glowing under you as people who walk the streets look like tiny ants from your view. Jeno goes first, his tall figure blasting into an emerald portal that opens up in the middle of the sky. You follow him, being swallowed by green light as you’re both transported to the Underground levels. Everything looks starkly different in the Underground. It’s like a black hole, the streets are covered in grime and trash, alleyways shrouded in secrets. Everyone’s cloaked as they walk along the bars that are locked with passwords and gambling shacks, dog fights happen on every corner. You’re reminded of why people don’t come here, at least good people don’t. Jeno motions you over, pointing at a ledge on a roof, “Land over there, turn on shadow mode.”

You do as he says, your body disappearing into the dark sky that’s as black as charcoal, no stars glow overhead. When you and Jeno land, you scoff, “It’s filthy here, why would people want to live in a place like this?”

Jeno presses a button on his hoverboard that makes it condense into a cube like a transformer as he shoves it in his pocket, “It’s the Underground. People don’t come here for fun, y/n. Well they do, just not the good kind.”

You nod, “Where’s the lead this time?”

Jeno opens his map on his wristwatch that Renjun built for him, the map appearing as a scan of the entire area. “Well, for starters after tracking the government’s traces, there’s been a link at this bar. There’s someone in there who can help us to find the undercover agent.”

“Let’s go then.”

Climbing down from the ledge, you and Jeno disguise yourselves with outfits that make it seem you belong, tattoos cover Jeno’s arms and you tease him at how it suits him. He smiles, pulling you close to him as you both make your way to a dark sector of alleyways. You pull the rim of your hat down, careful to not show your face. You can’t risk being caught, or even worse, killed. As you pass, burly men who smell of cigars eye you with contempt. Women who have several layers of makeup and ripped outfits glare at you but stare atJeno with hungry eyes and it makes you intertwine your fingers with his. There’s a tone of surprise in his low voice, “Everything alright?”

You nod, keeping your head down, “Just fine. Just blending in.”

You try to ignore the rapid beating in your heart. Half because it’s Jeno and the other half being you haven’t forgotten about Mark and it makes you feel guilty. 

You finally stop at the entrance of the bar, the stench of smoke and vodka making your eyes burn. A blue dial pad appears on the door, the number turning. Surprisingly, Jeno enters a code with nimble fingers, the lock becoming undone right in front of you. Jeno turns back to you, “Don’t drink anything and don’t talk to anyone. I’ll handle the talking. If anything happens, you run and get to the portal okay?”

You find yourself wanting to argue back but now isn’t the time. All you can do is agree. When you enter the establishment, it’s everything you expect it to be. Big men drink at the barstools, women play pool as they sip their beers, and the bar is decorated with oriental decorations. A woman struts in front of you, walking like a feline as she runs her long nails against the skin of Jeno’s bare arms and it makes you grimace. He smiles with his eyes, adjusting his black turtleneck up to his nose. You think he looks like an undercover ninja rather than an agent. Jeno walks towards a red velvet curtain by the side, pulling it to reveal people making love to each other on the velvet booths and you can’t feel any more uncomfortable. Jeno doesn’t really have an expression. He walks to the clerk booth, speaking to an asian woman who’s applying eyeliner on her lids.

“Are you Misty Kinazawa? We’re looking for Ghostboy.” 

The woman doesn’t answer. She wears a red oriental dress, jewels hang off her bun as she annoyingly chews her gum with a smack. You and Jeno look at each other in confusion, growing impatient. Finally, she sets her mirror down in irritation, “I don’t go by Misty anymore. It’s Rae now. And who are you?”

Jeno looks around before tugging down the edge of his sleeve to show her the compass tattoo on his wrist, “Right Compass. We spoke on the phone.”

Rae cackles, “Ah right- those kids who promised to pay me right? Ghostboy’s probably here somewhere, check in the back room.”

Jeno pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket pocket, “Thanks Rae. Have a nice night.”

Rae scoffs, counting the bills as she cocks her head in the direction of the back room. You and Jeno pass by the sex club and you swear that you would have torn your eyes out if youweren’t on a mission. Entering the back room, Jeno sweeps away a suede emerald curtain and what you find behind it is insane. The entryway opens up into a humongous warehouse room, submerged underwater. It’s a huge floating cube of water, filled with a large crowd of club-goers. It reminds you of that night, that night when Mark had pulled you close. Jeno rubs his temples, “How the fuck are we going to find an undercover agent in this crowd?”

“Let’s split up, cover more ground. Meet back up here?”

Jeno looks at you with concern, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah- have more faith in me. I can take care of myself.”

Jeno nods, “Okay. Meet back here right after. We’re tagged so just ping my location on your wristwatch and I’ll come find you.” 

You both enter the cube, the music transitioning from muffles to blaring electronic sounds, sweaty bodies crashing into you like a vortex. Jeno heads left so you head right. You remember looking at Ghostboy’s file, he’s supposed to be wearing a gold armband. His frame is medium height, yet you don’t know what his face looks like. Jeno’s right, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. You start by weaving through the bodies, girls falling into you from being too drunk. Even though everything is underwater, you find that you can still breathe. Must be why a virtual world is most desirable, technology can do everything.

People get in your way, boys hooting and hollering at you, trying to rip off your cloak. You swat them away, trading through the ocean of bodies. The music makes your head hurt, the air becoming suffocating to you. The smell of various drugs permeates, making you want to vomit. Still, you keep going. You look for the gold armband in a blur of blue, keeping your hand on your gun under your coat. You hear Jeno’s voice through your headset, “I can’t find him! Any luck on your side?” 

You scream into your voice function, “No! I can’t! It’s too loud and there’s too many people!”

Before you turn away, you see someone. There’s someone who stands a few feet away from you,  shrouded in a white outfit but a mask for a face. They call it a virtual glamour, to disguise the real person’s face. From the looks of it, the person- male it looks like he’s staring right at you. You scream at Jeno, “Wait- there’s someone! I’m following them!”

“Wait for me!”

You hang up on Jeno, pinging him your location as you make your way to the person. They turn tail and run and you leap over drunk people who have crashed to the ground as you try not to lose them. Finally, you chase the person through a series of tapestries until you reach the back exit. Shoving the door open, you enter back onto the street, glancing around for the mysterious vigilante. 

Then, in an instant, the white clothed figure points a gun at you, “Who the hell are you?”

It happens like oil being added to fire, exploding your heart into a million rapid beats, making your knees grow weak. That voice. That voice. You hold your hands up, turning to face them, trying to see through the glamor. Like a glitch, the glamor flickers in and out and it takes your breath away.

 The face that you see is identical to Mark’s.

“I asked, who are you?”

You fall to the ground weakly, your hand curling in the dirt, “How is this possible- there’s no way- no, I saw you die that night! this isn’t real!

”You start to wail, “Mark! It’s me! Y/n!”

Mark raises his eyebrow in fury, “Who?! How do you know my name?! Where are you from?!”

He doesn’t recognize you. Is it really him? But he looks exactly the same. His eyes, his lips, his cheeks. His frame. It’s all the same. 

You point your gun at him, starting to sob, “Mark- please! It’s me!”

In an instant, Jeno yanks open the door, his hand flying to his gun the moment he sees you and a boy pointing handguns at each other. You scream, “Jeno, don’t shoot!”

Jeno puts his gun up, making his way to you by putting a protective stance in front of you. But that’s when it dawns on him, who is he staring at? The face of his brother, his best friend, his comrade on the streets from childhood. Jeno screams at him, his ears burning red from the cold, “Who are you?! Why are you using Mark’s face as a glamor! Show yourself impostor!”

Mark knits his eyebrows together, unclipping his white cloak, revealing a cyber-kinetic arm that’s sparking with electricity and tiny wires. The gears in it churn with gold ropes, the circle on Mark’s palm glowing red, “I don’t know who you people are, but tonight will be your last night alive!”

Just when Jeno is about to pull the trigger, you shove him, the bullet ricocheting off the ground. You launch your whole body in front of Mark, even though you’re tripping over yourself and with your whole heart you shove your necklace in his face. It’s a portrait of you and Mark from back then, a gift from Mark for your birthday. 

Tears are streaming down your face and you swear that your heart is going to burst from how fast it’s going, “Please! Just listen to us, please. I need you to see.”

You grip the chain of the necklace, watching his expression fade from anger to confusion. He runs the pad of his thumb on the picture, “It seems that this is me. But how-”

You shake your head wildly, “I don’t know. But don’t you get it? you used to know us! You used to know me!”

Mark shakes his head, “This is impossible, I work for an organization. I always have. I’m a machine! I would have never crossed paths with you.”

You look back at Jeno, and you see him shake. He treads slowly towards you, “Don’t you want to find out? You have two options. You can kill us now or find out what happened. We’re your only lead.”

Mark lowers his arm, the fire in his palm dimming, “I don’t wish to find out because I assume what you’re saying is some made up scenario. I suggest we don’t run into each other in the future. I won’t be so merciful.”

Like that, Mark swings his white cape on, hiding his face under his hood. He types in a code that appears in front of him, a white motorcycle appearing in its place. Hopping on, he speeds way down the street, leaving you and Jeno alone in the musty night. Tears stain your cheeks, “I have to go after him, Jeno. I don’t expect you to follow me.”

Jeno stands next to you, putting an arm around your shoulder, “We. We’re going after him. We have to.” 

You and Jeno hop back on your hoverboards, disappearing into the dark. 

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #dreamwritersnet #nct-writers #nct au #nct fic #nct aus #nct fics #nct dream #nct mark #nct #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct mark fics #mark x reader #nct mark fic #nct mark fluff #nct mark angst #mark lee #nct mark blurbs #nct blurbs #nct suggestive #nct mark au #nct timestamps #nct mark timestamps #nct mark scenarios #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct x reader

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hi there! Just found your blog and I like it so far. Btw being Present Mics favorite student headcanons were amazing, as a bnha nerd may I request a part 2 where Mic meets readers parents and other stuff? Sorry if my English is bad.

A/N:Thank you so much for liking my blog and choosing to request, that means a whole lot! I got you with the Present Mic headcanons, please let me know if you want any more Present Mic stuff i’m here. I’m sorry this request took so long to come out, i was busy with a few thing please love me

-So i would feel this year would be a lot of fun, just like last year but the only difference being you are working harder towards your hero license and school is becoming much more difficult. This means that you have to up your game with your quirk skills and tactics while staying on top of your studies. You are stressed to say the least.

-Like i said previously present Mic knows when you are having a hard time, believe it or not he is quite attentive and super smart so he quickly asses the situation and realizes a few things. He sees you’re struggling with your quirk and school so he takes matters into his own hands.

-He offers to train you and offers extra help with school to you, he only wants to see you succeed even if that means sacrificing his free time.

-”oh- no no Mr.Hizashi that’s so sweet but i know you’re really busy-”

-”SHHHSHHSHSSJSJ Y/N I SHALL GET YOU THAT HERO LICENSE AND HELP YOU PICK UP YOUR GRADES EVEN IF THAT MEANS RISKING A FEW HOURS OF REST, I CANNOT LOSE TO YAGI AND DEKU- i-i- Mean icareaboutyourhealthandgradesandireallywannahelp”

-tHaT soCCer dAD rIvaLrY iS stiLl haPPeNinG 

-Everyday after school you guys meet up at the park or one of the training centers to train for a few hours

-”Now Y/N, breath in and when you breath out use that force to push your quirk-”

-Honestly you thought the training wouldn’t be as hard as it was (it’s Present Mic after all) but boi were you wrong

-”Get up off the ground Y/N, you’ve only been running for .3 seconds”

-”.3 SeCoNdS????? I DID THREE MILES NONSTOP YaMaDA!”

-” hUstLe y/NnNNnN”

-Aizawa comes to your trainings and observes bEcAusE hEs nOSeYy

-He actually helps out and help with things present might not have thought of or isn’t the best at

-This year your relationship with Present actually takes a deeper turn, you find yourself around him more often both in school and after school. You both learn more about each other's quirks and personalities a lot more.

-You thought you already knew a lot about him, given he was like an open book it seemed. But Hizashi is a much deeper and emotional person than you honestly thought and he truly had such a more serious, kindred spirited side to him

-Like sometimes when you guys are taking a break from training he will open up about his life at UA and how it was for him. He told you how he felt kind of odd and awkward and how that’s probably why he can relate to you so so much uwu

-”You know Y/N as much I am super bubbly and “overly confidant” , i still feel super out of place sometimes. I guess i always have it isn’t a new feeling, although I have Aizawa and the other teachers, sometimes I still feel...not understood? If that makes any sense?? But like I totally understand how you feel, and you are not alone...seriously. Thank you for being open to me and allowing me to teach and train you. Kind of makes me feel wanted and useful..haha-”

-iM sOft 

-He always thought of you as a little “sidekick” however recently he kind of looks at you as his own daughter and he’s really protective and fatherly over you. He’s more on top of you and making sure all your ducks are in a row. He’s not controlling or anything like that tho so don’t worry

-”Did you eat yet, Y/N?”

-”are you okay Y/N? You look exhausted.”

-”make sure you finish that report for class, okay? If you need any help let me know.”

-pRotEccS yOu fRom bOys

-If he sees a teacher kind of poking at you and making you feel uncomfortable or feel bad for being a “teacher's pet” he will immediately have them stop. He feels bad you have to get crap from him being a bit biased towards you

-You guys have a secret handshake

-HE’S STILL THE BIGGEST cRacK hEAd I swEar

-*crushes you in a hug* “MISS. AMERICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAAATtattatSSSSSs UpPPPPPPPPPPPp”

-”YO Yo yO AMERiCaAAaAAAA HOw Is IT CrACkINGGGG”

-”YNNNNNNNNN AMErIcAAAA YoUU foRgoT yoUr lUnCH Box iN mY cLaSS *whispers* i put a donut in there for you”

-USES YOU FOR ENGLISH CONVERSATION EXAMPLES IN CLASS ALL THE TIME 

-HE EMBArASSES YOU SO MUCH ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY THIS DUDE NEEDS TO SIT TF DOWN AND LET YOU LIVE POOR GIRL

-It’s okay because he lets you skip class to pass out in the library after being exhausted from everything

-You take his weird sunglasses and strut around with them all the time

-”BlUghH I’m a rich fashion model. WAIT OMG HIZASHI ARE THESE CHILDREN SIZED GLASsES?!?!”

-EmaiLS yOU

-” ohiyo americAa,

It’s me MiC and iM waTchING tHat drAmaA you recommended to me and Im cRyING. Also i heard from the sleepy teacher that there may or may not be a pop quiz in his class on last weeks topic...Anyways I’ll see you tomorrow...unless...Nah just joking okay mic is out!

                                    -Hiz

                              sEnt fRom ToaSter oVeN”

-You get about ten of these things a week from him. help this poor man ;-;

-Made a few youtube videos with him

-He helped you pick out your hero name and outfit, you are so ready to be a hero i swear

-Once you do get your hero license..he is such big boi proud like he’s in tears, snot running out his nose, eyes all puffy and his voice is cracking. He even got you a little teddy bear with a little candy bag attached to it.

-”LOOK LOOOK MR.HIZASHIIIII LOOOK I GOT IT I FINALLY GOT IT THANK YOU SO SO MUCH HIZASHIII I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH THANK YOU”

-”See kiddo, i knew you could do it!”

-” Pfft all thanks to you!! Oh and Hey, Mr.Hizashi? My parent(s) are coming up this weekend to celebrate me getting my license. I was wondering if you would like to come to dinner? They’d like to personally thank you for helping me.”

-THIS MAN IS THE UTMOST HONORED LIKE LET ME TELL YOU HE SAYS YES IN A HEARTBEAT AND IS AT THE RESTAURANT ON LITERAL TIME

 -He somes in a very nice suit with his hair tied into a perfectly neat bun. And is thAT GLasses he’s wearing??????  (so cute omg)

-Him meeting your parent(s) was a pretty chill experience 

-”Mr.Hizashi, right? SO NIce to finally meet you and thank you for everything you have done for Y/N.”

-”Ah, it was my pleasure. And please, call me Yamada.”

-At first it was kind of awkward but once the conversation got going, you guys were there for hours

-and i mean HoURs

-”um excuse mE, wHen aRe yoU gUyS lIkE idk LEAVING???”

-Haha but no, the literal talk was just them hyping you up and how the waiter dramatically fell coming over to the table

-”yeS Y/N is such a great kid i can’t believe you raised such a strong and patient daughter”

-”Did he just trip and act like he didn’t just dropped our food on the ground??”

-”One time Y/N tripped and dropped her easy bake cookies and she didn’t even cry, that’s when we knew she was going to be a pro hero.”

-”did he step on the fries and up it on the plate and try to serve it to us???”

-Also your parent(s) grew up around the same time as Present so they had a lot to talk about and it was interesting learning about each other different childhoods and cultures.

-Your parent(s) seriously enjoyed Hizashi and they would love to talk to him again. Vise versa, it was a great time for Hizashi as well and prepare to hear about it the next time you see him.

-”Thank you Y/N for inviting me and allowing me to meet your parent(s) it was very nice getting to know them. Next time they come up, I must treat them out instead.”

BonUs

-Let’s just make up a different scenario where maybe your parents were kind of rude and not as nice and welcoming, both to you Yamada

-When you heard your parents were coming up to visit you in Japan, you were at first excited. You were still in this frenzy of like ���wow i got my hero license” so you weren't thinking about it too much plus you were excited about being treated out to dinner and having your favorite teacher tag along. 

-Everything was great...that was until you started to think about it more and started to question was that such a great idea?? Let’s just say your parents aren’t the nicest people (person). For some reason it seems like they were never proud of you, no matter how well or bad you literally did. 

-Won a championship game? Eh good, but could be better

-4.00 GPA? That’s okay but thousand of kids get that, you have to do better.

-You want to be a pro hero?? Ha in your dreams, that kid next door has a better chance of becoming one than you do.

-You started to realise they were one of the biggest reasons you wanted to exchange to Japan so much. It was far away from them and super peaceful. You wanted to tell Present to not come, but he seemed so excited, and you wanted to tell him how dreaded your parents were. But you didn’t want him to worry and get others involved. So you just hoped and prayed that they would be nice? And everything was okay?

-Everything was okay...for the first five minutes. 

-Well everyone greeted each other and sat down to eat, then the condescending comments started to pour in.

-”Yeah, well I think Y/N will make a perfect Hero in the near future. She’s gotten a lot stronger with her quirk and-”

-”Pfft, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, Although Y/N has gotten her License that doesn’t mean she’s hero material. We watched the sports festival and compared to the other students, she’s severely overshinned. I just don’t think a year or so of training can fix that. She has to do better.”

-For a second hizashi just sat there with his face utter disbelief. How could someone just say that about their child...in front of their child...so camly?

-He looked over towards your uncomfortable figure, your face was colored with complete dismay, He felt so sad and slightly angry. You didn’t look in a position to defend yourself so he started to speak up for you

-”I really hope the both of you are seriously joking.” he snapped back with a sassy firm tone in his voice which made you look towards the three adults

-”No we are not, Y/N is pretty average and for you to put in her head that she could possibly become a Pro? Haha I understand teachers are supposed to be supportive but like come on now, just be honest with yourself.”

-Hizashi slammed his hands against the table, gaining the attention of everyone in the restaurant, including yourself who was previously looking down to avoid confrontation.

-”How DARE you. Y/N is PERFECTLY  CAPABLE of becoming a hero, her quirk,skills, technique and intelligence is all was stronger than you can even imagine. Do not downgrade her just because you’re too idiotic and narrowminded to see that. She is the sweetest kid I have ever met and quite frankly the purest. Disgusting how you talk about your own child like that. AND IN FRONT OF HER?? Now with all due respect, I think you guys need to do a self reflection and change the wrongs you have within you. If you need any help i don't mind emailing you a list of things.”

-SKSKSKSKSKSKS WOT???? DID MR.HIZASHI THE ALWAYS HAPPY AND CRACKHEADY TEACHER JUST PUT YOUR PARENTS IN THEIR PLACE???? IN FRONT OF A WHOLE RESTURANT??? BEST. TEACHER. EVER.

-on you still wore an embarrassed kind or dismayed face and when Present say that. hE tHoUghT yOU wErE eIthER mAd oR sCaREd oF Him. cri

-In reality you were literally so joyful and happy. LIKE DUUUDEEE. MARRY ME LOLOL. Seriously you were super thankful that he did that for you. 

-He looked around and suddenly realised that all eyes were on him. Aww poor man felt so flustered he didn’t mean to make a fuss and disturb others, he was just so angry your parents were such a*ssholes. 

-He turned to you and bowed while simply muttering “I’m sorry Y/N”, then grabbed his coat and walked out.

-Without even thinking you jumped up and rushed out the door with him, leaving your dumbfounded parents at the restaurant

-”m-Mr.Hizashi wait up!”  you called out from behind the blonde haired man, he stopped in his tracks then pivoted in place to face you

-”y/n im very sorry to you and your family i didn’t mean any disrespect. I understand if you may not want to be around me any more or allow me to train you.”

-”ARE YOU SERIOUS THAT WAS EPIC LIKE SERIOUSLY THEY HAVE BEEN DOING THIS SINCE I CAn rEMEBER I SWEAR YOU ARE SO AWESOME MRHIZASHI THANK YOU THANK YOU LIKE YOU’RE THE DAD I ALWAYS WANTED I FREAKING LOVE YOU AND DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES HAHA BOOM I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TELL ME I-”

-cutting you off from your frenzy and gave you a big bear hug, “haha don’t ever let what they have said about you ever ring in your head...okay L/N? I belive in you and i know you are going to be fucking great.”

-”Really?” you smiled

-”HECK YEAHHHHH, AMERICAAAAAA” 

#bnha #bnha deku #bnha all might #BNHA Headcanons #bnha teachers #hizashi yamada x reader #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #mha x reader #mha #present mic #present mic x reader #bnha present mic #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #would include #dating #dating senarios #Headcanon #headcanons #headcannons #headcanon meme #present mic headcanon #oneshot #anime #amine hcs #deku

[voldemorthatesnose96]

RETROUVAILLES

Chapter one ❤️❤️❤️

Chapter two ❤️❤️❤️

The final chapter will be up tomorrow, hopefully!

“Seriously, why does everything I wear is lame?”

Sander throws the T-shirt he’s holding onto the pile of clothes on his bed, also just fully realised that most of them are black. Just imagine, if he’s gonna meet Robbe today wearing all black and the other person will be wearing warm colours and everything. As far as Sander can remembers, Robbe never wears black or dark clothes on his Insta.

“But do I really need to change my appearance all of a sudden, though? Is it THAT necessary?” he mumbles to himself as he looking at the mirror.

Just when Sander’s about to give up, his eyes accidentally catches the white turtleneck inside his wardrobe. He vaguely remembers that the turtleneck is a gift from his father as a Christmas present a year ago, and because he was pissed at his father back then, he never wears it and even forgets it exists.

He stares at it for a while before deciding to try it on, and turns out that it isn’t... look bad? His bleached-blond hair matches really well with the white turtleneck, and because he’s a bit extra, Sander also puts his black leather jacket on—the jacket that always been part of him for as long as he can remembers.

“Okay, this looks fine.” He says as he smiles brightly, finally feeling satisify about his looks.

Being nervous is an understatement. Last night, he even facetime’d for hours with Mikael, Joseph and Gabe on how to make the best impression during the first date. Well, this isn’t exactly a date but his friends insisted that it is. It was really chaotic and to be honest, Sander was only listening to their non-stop blabberings about his love life and how pitiful he looked last night. Such a wholesome friends, they are.

Before Sander leaves the flat, he sends a text to Robbe.

Earthlingoddity :

I’m heading out now. Are you too?

Robbe replies not long after.

Sterkerdanijzer :

I’m already here half an hour ago hahaha

Eartlingoddity :

oh shit! Sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me, wouldn’t you?

Sterkerdanijzer :

I’m not going anywhere. Careful on your way, Sander

It doesn’t take long for Sander to finally arrives, for the distance between the caffe and his flat is only twenty minutes away by riding a bike. Autumn wind blows his hair, makes him shivers a little as he tightens the jacket to get some warmth.

But this is it. He’s gonna see Robbe IJzermans in person after such a long and painful months of having a silent crush on him. Would it be too lame if the first thing that comes out from his mouth is a compliment on how Robbe looks today? Or, the weather?

No no no, definitely NOT the weather.

What about the food?

THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE FOOD?!

UGH!

Sander’s thoughts bursts like a bubble when he sees Robbe sitting near the window, while his dog is sleeping on his lap but the marvelous sight of it all is Robbe in glasses. ROBBE IJZJERMANS IS WEARING A FUCKING GLASSES!!! And Sander is too in awe and dumbstruck to realise that Robbe is actually calling his name for a couple times already.

“Sander, over here! Sander!”

Sander walks towards him while keeping his expression as neutral as possible. It’s gonna be super awkward if he exposes his excitement and nervousness too bluntly. His nose accidentally catches the smell of woody-scent perfume from the cute guy in front of him once he sits.

“Hi, Robbe,” Sander says, smiling politely. “sorry for making you wait that long. I didn’t know you’d come early.”

Robbe shakes his small head, “it’s okay. Besides, I was just taking Peter Pan on a walk,” he looks down at the adorable sleeping puppy with soft sigh. “Hope you don’t mind he’s tagging along.”

“Not at all.”

“It’s just, I’m too nervous to meet you alone.”

Wait, what?

What did he say just now?

Nervous?

“Come again?” Sander asks. Not believing what he heard. “you’re nervous to meet me?”

Robbe nods slowly, “Stupid, huh?”

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, Sander asks, “But, why?”

“Well, duh, you’re a famous YouTuber,” Robbe laughs. One of his hand scratches Peter Pan’s ears. Sander notices and wonders how it feels like to be touched like that. “and I’m just a weird guy who’s constantly wearing a flower crown in every pictures and videos.”

Sander leans forward to look straight at Robbe’s eyes and says, “You’re not weird.”

Robbe lets a huff, “I don’t believe you.”

“What if I told you that whatever you do is adorable? Is it good enough?”

Before Robbe can answers, the waitress comes to their table, “one mint choco chip milkshake for you,” then he turns to Sander. “and one affogato for you. Please enjoy!”

“But, I haven’t ordered...” Sander mumbles.

“It’s on me.” Robbe cuts him as he fixes his glasses.

“Really?”

“Yep!”

“Um... thanks? But, you really don’t have to.”

Robbe sips his milkshake before answering, “I know but then I remember that you said their affogato is sublime, so I ordered it for you.”

Ah, it’s not just butterflies in his stomach no more; but the whole goddamn zoo! The simple fact that Robbe actually remembers what he said yesterday is making Sander wants to shout from the rooftop.

The rumor’s true—this affogato is fucking delicious! It melts instantly in his mouth, not too bitter but not too sweet either. Sander lets a moan, not knowing Robbe is actually looking at him, slightly smirking.

When Sander has finally back to earth, he gives Robbe an apologetic smile, “sorry, that was embarrassing.”

“Don’t be. Glad you like it.”

Sander clears his throat, “okay, so, about our collab. I was thinking about doing Bon Jovi song cover. What do you think? Any other options?”

Robbe goes silent for a moment—his expression’s serious, his brows furrow like he’s been working on a difficult test. Sander sees Robbe’s lips pouting and once again, he wonders how it feels like to kiss them.

Snap out of it, Driesen! He says to himself sternly. Don’t let anything distracts you, even when the biggest distraction is in front of you right now!

“I’d say we do some impromptu singing,” Robbe says after five minutes and quickly elaborates when he sees Sander’s confused face. “I mean, we don’t have to decide it now. It’ll be much more surprising and entertaining if we don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow, right?”

“Is there any particular reason why you said the last sentences? We have to be prepared for what’s to come, right? Including the concept of our collab.”

“Jawel... but to be honest, the more I think of any concept, the more blurry it is.”

Sander sighs, “so, you suggests that the concept will be ‘no concept’ at all?”

Robbe nods his head, while caressing Peter Pan’s head who’s now fully awake and being so hyperactive in Robbe’s arms.

“Lucky puppy!” Sander thought in an unreasonable jealousy.

“Indeed, Sander, indeed,” Robbe says as cheerful as his puppy. His glasses is a bit crooked. “What will happen tomorrow, let it be. What matters the most is now.”

“That’s too deep for a collab’s concept talks, don’t you think?” Sander asks, half joking half serious.

“Ha ha ha, maybe. You were suddenly turned tense when you talk about it, too formal. So, I’m trying to melt the ice.”

One thing that Sander recently discovers is that maybe he’ll never wins an argument against Robbe IJzermans. How can he resists these Bambi eyes, fluffy looking hair and his cute CUTE voice? There’s no way, and he doesn’t mind it. At all.

“Okay, you win,” Sander smirks. “But we’re gonna do it at my place. Take it or leave it.”

Robbe gives a challenging smiles, “alright!”

Sander bites his bottom lip while his eyes looking at Robbe’s lips shamelessly. The hell with subtlety. To his surprise, Robbe winks at him.

Fucking hell!

“Want to take a walk? Looks like your puppy needs to go out.”

Robbe stares at Peter Pan lovingly and kiss its nose, “you’re right. Let’s get outta here!”

Just when they’re about to leave, suddenly Robbe says something that almost makes Sander stumbles over his feet.

“You look really handsome today, Jack Frost.”

#wtfock #wtfam #IT GOT YEETED FROM THE TAG #fanfic

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

So I finished watching Yakuza 7: Like A Dragon. Spoilers under the cut. 

(Mainly positive take, some criticisms. C+/B I’d give it.)

So, first of all, I didn’t play it, I just watched people on youtube so my perspective of gameplay should be taken with a grain of salt. But I really liked the turn taking fighting style! Like a real JRPG, I thought it was fun, it seemed fun anyway, and the strategies to JRPG make more intuitive sense to me than fighting games, which I don’t know at all. I did end up missing the hand-to-hand combat like... aesthetically and it kinda breaks universe rules a little. But, like, Ichiban seeing combat as a sort of heightened fantasy reality actually helps with that and the plot still treats us like average combatants. Like, there’s still no murder, despite a lot more weapon use, including guns. So... it’s a little sad and weird universe-wise, but seems fun to play. 

Ichiban is a great protag! Definitely not Kiryu! He has two dads, like 8 spouses, a lot of hair... He’s only 7 years younger than Kiryu and that’s... that’s a choice ^^; But he’s got a lot of good things going for him and I like his build. Interesting rage-grief he has going and a thing about revenge that Kiryu never had. And I like that actually, I like that Ichiban gets hit with different things than Kiryu did, but he still has flaws. Kiryu was never blind with rage the way Ichi got, but then, Kiryu also didn’t save his brother. Like, they have VERY different shit going on, which is GOOD. So I’m kinda annoyed that in the end we took Ichi’s dad and brother, just like Kiryu’s? Like... damn :/ Lame. Lazy. 

I love Ichi’s team! I love Adachi, Nanba, Saeko, Joon-gi, Zhao. Top notch peeps! I like that they all just like him and are here for a fun adventure with him. They’re all here for something different, which is also really cool. Zhao is sort of redefining who he is in... retirement I guess? Trying out being a companion rather than a leader. Saeko is longing for family, connection, a place to belong. Adachi was here to accomplish a goal, to restore his honor and provide justice. And Ichi’s been a big help to that. Joon-gi is... a whore. I’m sorry! He’s just this beautiful, obedient man who’s just here on lend and he does whatever the fuck you say. Do not put him in charge of decisions, he’s terrible at them, but he knows a lot and has a vast network. But he appears just to be here to serve everyone’s needs, so to speak, and to moon after Ichiban like everyone else. And Nanba. Nanba hates adventures. He hates germs. He hates people and friends and danger and doing things. But he’s here. Because Ichi makes him hate things a little less. Nanba is a cynical, cowardly bastard, and Ichi’s a fucking sunshiney idiot always trying to fix shit that isn’t his problem. And he makes Nanba get up and fight. He makes Nanba believe in tomorrow. Nanba doesn’t trust people, Nanba doesn’t hope. He’s a pessimist and lives only to complain. But he is first in line to get shot for Ichiban every fucking time. He’s always the first to Ichiban’s side when he’s in trouble. Leaving and betraying Ichiban broke his fucking heart and my ship is probably showing A LOT here but I don’t care. I fucking love Nanba, I love his arc, I did NOT see it coming. And they are definitely my ship out of this. The fact that Nanba without fail is always the first to put himself in danger for Ichiban guts me. With how much he doesn’t believe in good things ever happening, it destroys me that he’ll dare it all for Ichiban. Fucking wild. 

I thought it was cool to bring up a political villain, but... we didn’t really carry through on Bleach Japan’s thematic importance. We revealed them to be cruel and hypocritical, but we didn’t end up actually saving the slums or proving why the slums needed to be saved and that’s... kinda lame :/ 

I was really hoping that we might make a stand on why grey spaces were needed, on why organizations like the yakuza are needed but instead we... disbanded? And I don’t even know why? 

Like, it was to fuck over Ryo Aoki. But... he was a TEMPORARY problem. All you had to do was move the organizations underground until he was unseated, which the Tojo already was??? 

But instead... we brought down Tojo and Omi and... WHY?! Like, SERIOUSLY, can ANYONE tell me WHY! Because I have a LOT OF FEELINGS about why that’s a BAD CALL.

What are all those guys going to do now? “Oh, we’ll just make a security company” YOU’LL WHAT?! THOUSANDS of guys used to shake downs will now be hired to patrol rich estates and cover banks and business buildings?! Fighting WHO, themselves?! A LOT of that job is just watching some fucking cameras, what... what the fuck are you talking about Watase?! 

But I guess that’s still better than Daigo’s “I have no fucking idea” plan

NO WONDER Majima’s depressed at that funeral you JUST TOLD HIM his new job is BABYSITTING SOME RICH FUCK’S BUILDING. Fuck you guys! 

And HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING ABOUT POWER VACUUMS?! CRIME doesn’t disappear just because there’s no one there to manage it! That just means it gets worse! And rasher, crueler people grab power in the interim. Smaller but rougher groups will appear. More and worse crimes will happen now. You just disenfranchised thousands, not all of them are going to come with you to play security detail and not all of them WANT to. So why EXACTLY did we disband the yakuza? What problems did that solve??? 

What about all that shit about the yakuza being a home for people who didn’t fit in? What about people who fell through the cracks in the system, who don’t have anywhere else to go? 

If the yakuza, as an idea, was so fucking bad, WHAT WERE THE LAST SIX GAMES ABOUT?!

You can’t have an established series that accepts the idea that crime and violence are sometimes necessary or are even good things and have a compelling protag who does that, ONLY to turn around at the last second and pretend like it was always wrong!

If you were gonna act like the idea of organized crime is a Bad Thing, THEN THAT NEEDED TO BE A CONFLICT FROM THE BEGINNING

But you didn’t even do that!

We DIDN’T disband the yakuza because organized crime is inherently morally corrupt, no we disbanded because some prick thought he could use us! A PRICK WHO IS NOW DEAD! THE FUCK?! 

And DON’T GET ME STARTED on how this reframes Kiryu’s narrative. KIRYU WASN’T RIGHT FOR LEAVING YOU FUCKING BASTARDS. 

THE WHOLE POINT OF KIRYU’S ARC WAS THAT HE WAS FUCKING WRONG TO ABANDON HIS RELATIONSHIPS I- *screams into pillow*

AND why does Kiryu need to be dead now?! There is no more yakuza! Who does he need to hide from?! 

OH no wait, my mistake! We didn’t disband ALL the yakuza, just Omi and Tojo! You know, the two biggest cities in Japan. I’m sure THAT won’t have Fucking Consequences. But Kiryu still has to be dead for uh... Reasons.

This was just such a fucking dumb universe-building move. It’s not been thought through, it betrays the whole point of the franchise up until now, and I’m honestly just mad that they didn’t even feel the need to address it? Like, the yakuza’s just gone now, but it’s whatever. Who would even care about that. Like, that’s not going to be a plot point next game. It won’t matter, at all, I promise you. All of the in-universe implications this has, none of it matters. And I’m not even mad I’m just... tired. And annoyed a little. that you can’t be bothered to tie up your own rules. You won’t give your own writing decisions weight and that’s just... kinda sad. It’s just lazy and sad that they don’t care enough to connect the pieces. But I’ve had my heart broken enough by yakuza writing decisions. Of course they would do this, of course they haven’t thought enough about their own series to really consider what ending the yakuza would mean. Why would they? 

I’ll still watch the next game. Like, Ichiban is likeable enough and I’m interested in his arc enough that I’d play or watch next time. But... *sigh* We’re the Yakuza series with no yakuza. And y’all gonna act like that’s a good thing or pretend it doesn’t even matter. And I really don’t know what to do with that since you haven’t bothered to examine it either. 

On a nice Kiryu note, I did like that he was scaled appropriately, I like that Ichiban is Wiped Out after almost every fight. He’s a good fighter, but he has human endurance. Kiryu’s still god. He hits the hardest out of anyone you fight and you Don’t win and that’s As It Should Be. I’m REALLY glad they at least let me have that. I’m glad they let us fight Kiryu and we passed and it was a cool passing of the torch. I was so worried they were going to destroy Kiryu’s legacy and at least they didn’t do that. 

The coin locker baby thing... it was cliche and convenient, but in the way that Yakuza is cliche and convenient and melodramatic and over the top. It was sort of fitting and familiar that way. Shame we ended Swashiro like that, I think we could have done more and cooler shit with him but, eh. 

SPEAKING OF MORE AND COOLER SHIT

...all that effort, just to kill him? Alllllll that long time, that hard conversation, that break down with Ichiban... just to kill him. Just to make him Nishiki, all over again. 

I... fuck you. 

Why do you refuse to write a goddamn redemption arc

Fuck, you don’t even have to write it, have it happen off-screen if you’re so fucking afraid of it. Just have him recuperate in a goddamn hospital and, I don’t know, by next game just show that he’s doing better and is getting therapy and whatever.

Jesus fucking christ, he doesn’t have to MATTER in the next game just... don’t kill him. Jesus. Please.

All that fucking work and you’re STILL going to give Ichiban the trauma of losing someone he was trying to save. 

I just... it’s really gutting how much you don’t like your characters and you don’t like to write and you’re cowards. You won’t take risks. You’re too afraid of fucking up so you won’t do what the narrative calls for. 

Killing Masato was lazy-ass, punk-ass, coward shit and I wont’ stand for it. I did not expect to care about his ass by the end but you guys REALLY made an effort in making him a three dimensional character there at the end and explaining why Ichi would care about him and I was willing to come with you! I was willing for us to invest in this dumbass. We walk him all the way up to the edge and step him back. We let him let go. And then you just. fucking. gave up. You goddamn cowards.

I’m so tired of this shit

For all that, it was genuinely a really fun game and a really fun story with a lot of likeable characters. I think a solid C+, even a B. I really did enjoy most of it. It’s just... in usual Yakuza style, they only fucked up 2 things but they were a REALLY IMPORTANT 2 things. 

Oh and I did like the fact that Ichiban Still Doesn’t Know. No one tell him.

#Yakuza 7 #Yakuza: Like A Dragon #It's always a mixed bag with RGG Studios #At least Kiryu was pretty nice #Y7 spoilers