#Maybe one day Milk will be able to fix his voice box

[vectorisheree]

I don't think I've ever mentioned it here but Milk is mute! He had his voicebox damaged from the skulk infestation and now chooses to communicate through writing and sign language

From the @daycarefriendpickup magma ^^

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 350: That was Then, This is Now, p2

“G-Gianna?” I asked Aubrey from my spot a foot off the floor, held aloft in Morgan’s strong hands, my bright colored shoes from the kids’ department dangling helplessly, “Wants to talk to me?” I gulped, trying my best to look dignified. Not an easy task. “N-now?”

I acted surprised, but I’d known this was coming. I’d had reports to complete, a bunch of data from the study to sign off on. It’d been tasked to me quite a while ago. As little as I actually really did for this thing, this clinical trial, Evolution relied on me and my authority to keep things on schedule. At least as far as my own paperwork was concerned, and this report had been due last night. 

“Yeah, she says now,” Aubrey replied, a funny look on her face as she  processed the scene in front of her eyes; the broadly smiling Uber-Amazon Morgan holding her shrunken boss like a toy, a boss that didn’t weigh very much, at that. Aubrey bit her lower lip before continuing. “And she sounds a little annoyed.”

“I am a little annoyed,” came a new woman’s voice, clear as day, from the speakers of my desktop computer. 

What the?? Looking to my left I saw, onscreen, the videochat window already open. There she was, Gianna, remotely controlling my computer. She was here with us already, sort of. I thought I’d told Marisela to fix that, not allow her access to- 

“Hi Morgan,” Gianna spoke, obviously able to see us as she remotely greeted the enormous blonde before me, “Can you put him in his chair so we can have a little talk?”

Next thing I knew I was being plopped behind my desk, butt-in-chair, facing the screen and an obviously nonplussed Gianna Albertini, Study Coordinator for Evolution Pharmaceuticals She was my liaison to the company and the face/ - holy crap look at her tits - chest behind all the money the practice was being infused with for its participation. She was young, she tended to be flippant about this whole project and my involvement, and she didn’t look happy.

After dropping me down into my seat, Morgan had stepped away, her big, long legs quickly getting her to the other side of my desk on her way to the door.

“Morgan, wait,”

Gianna’s voice stopped the big woman in her tracks. It spoke through my computer speakers, “maybe you can stay in the room with us as we chat.”

Morgan turned, with a smile, towering over my desk behind the terminal screen. “I can be doing that, yes,” she answered, with more than a small bit of excitement in her voice. Her smile widened, obviously enthused by the tone this conversation was taking. Even her teeth were big. I could see it already: she was looking forward to a dressing-down. Mine. A man’s at the hands of a woman with authority

Gianna regarded me through the camera. Her brow was crooked; she was not smiling. “Good morning, Doctor,” she spoke, “It’s been a bit since we last touched base, huh?” Though her tone was flat, I could see a glint of light in her eye as she regarded me even through our low resolution screens. She cocked her head. “You look hungry…and skinny.” she said, “Did you eat anything today?”

“N-no, I-” I actually hadn’t.

“Have one of those protein bars you keep in your desk,” she said, plainly. And then paused, waiting for me to act.

What the f-..? How did she know that? I thought, even as I found myself doing exactly as she’d suggested, opening the top drawer of my desk and pulling out a fruit-and-nut protein bar. Breakfast would probably be smart.

“You need the help to unwrap?” Morgan asked, from her looming position over my desk.

“No I-I got it,” I answered, peeling through the foil that - god help me - did give me more of a challenge than it should.

I took a bite. I’d thrown a few of these in here just last week but it still tasted old and stale, almost like the cardboard box they came in. A glass of milk might make it taste better, I couldn’t help but think.

“So, okay,” I began, between a few forced chews. I looked back at the screen trying my best to keep my eyes off her tits. “How long is this going to take?” I asked, “I have patients to get to.”

Gianna didn’t like that. “No, you don’t. I’ve had the staff move your morning patients to Morgan and Vida, because you’ll need the time for the report,” she said. She paused. “And, I don’t like your tone,” she added.

To that, I admit I bristled. Who was this woman, thinking she can run my day, my practice, my time with patients?! If you, dear reader, haven’t gathered it by this point, I was more than a little resistant to participating in this clinical trial to begin with. I was a little weirded out by the whole situation. Yes, the money was good for us - we actually needed it, with my reduced production - but I was not going to allow myself to be scolded by a corporate floozy behind a video chat screen. I was, however, smart enough not to say exactly what was on my mind…but I came exceedingly close. “Well, thanks for thinking of us, Gianna, but I have patient care as  my first priori-”

“I’m going to have to ask you to call me Ms. Albertini from now on��.,” she broke in, her body language shifting onscreen - She set her shoulders and thrust out her ungodly chest - in a clear move  to show me who exactly was in charge. “...and I’m this close to demoting you from the principal investigator on this study and naming one of our girls instead.”

Okay, that was the last straw.

“What?!” I blurted, shocked by her boldness.

“You are late with the reports I needed from you, again. I’d given you plenty of time, and you’ve had more than enough warnings,” she laid into me, “I’ve tried to make this as easy for you as possible, because I know you have certain limits-”

“Limits?!?” I exclaimed, taken aback again by her attitude, her belittling of me. I know now, and I think I even kinda knew it then: that I was acting up, lashing out a bit irrationally. I think I felt the need to exert myself in some way, after all the humiliations and submissiveness I was starting to realize comprised my entire weekend. So it was here, I guess, that I was putting my foot down. “I’m perfectly capable of filling out the spreadsheets you need.” I started again, “I’m a busy person and this is-...this is just data entry. I frankly just need to find the time t-”

“Frankly you’re proving yourself to be just like other men,” she cut in, “and showing yourself incapable of the work.”

“Oh my god…!” I groaned, as I was vaguely aware of Morgan leaning a bit forward, over my desk. My hands shot up in impotent rage, but instead of jumping in with a defense of my beleaguered gender, my eyes suddenly drifted into Morgan’s massive, plump cleavage. Woof. A guy could get lost in there…

Morgan began to giggle, a deep and throaty chuckle as my anger began to slip through the cracks of my skull and I became lost in the vast swells of her chest.

Gianna took the opportunity - no doubt seeing my eyes dart upward - to lecture me on my sex’s many recent failings. Yes, yes, I knew that earlier this year women had become the majority of the workforce for the first time in U.S. history. Most managers, like Giana here, were now women too. All her bosses, the executives at the pharmaceutical company certainly were too, I was sure. She told me that for every two men who got their college degree this year, three women would be doing the same. The statistics regarding the graduate and professional degrees were even more dramatic. What do you think the workforce will look like soon? she asked me, Do you think society won't change because of this? For years, decades, generations, women’s progress had been cast as a struggle for equality. “But what if we know now that equality shouldn’t be the end point?” she asked me, as the blonde giantess Morgan continued to keep me tempted  by her big Hungarian bosom. “What if modern society is simply better suited for women like me and Morgan, and Melissa and Olivia and Lakshmi and all the others, to dominate it? To run the lives of flawed, frail men like you?” 

My heart was pounding. Was it fear or, god help me, was I turned on?

Men had been the dominant sex since, well, the dawn of forever. It was called ‘mankind’ for a reason, right? But I knew that, for the first time in human history, that was all changing - and it seemed to be doing so with shocking speed. Cultural and economic changes always reinforce each other, so - yes, like Gianna said - society was certainly going to be different with more and more women becoming the breadwinners, the business leaders, the politicians and even the clergy. Home life was also certainly going to change. With more husbands becoming  dependent on their wives, if there was a ‘Battle of the Sexes’ imminent, like so many were predicting, would they be forced to 'bend the knee' to the so-called superior gender. What would happen to what we considered democracy? What we considered America?

And, it wasn’t just here in the US. The global economy was evolving in new, unexpected ways as well. Many countries were seeing the historical preference for having male children begin to erode. Gianna began talking about  using new advances in medical technology to purposefully alter the birthrates of each sex. She wasn’t just talking about doing it abroad, but here at home as well. The thought made me squirm. Was I outraged? Disturbed? Excited? I didn’t know.. I was far too captivated by Morgan’s chest to understand even my own feelings.

“Oh my god, just look at you,” Gianna said, finally calling me out as I stared blankly forward clearly hypnotized by Morgan’s massive tits. She smirked with a knowing smile that mirrored Morgan’s own. “This is totally going to be how it happens, you know, ‘The End of Men’. You’re all just going to give in to your pathetic male urges and slowly fade away into our cleavages. Battle of the Sexes? We won’t have to fight you at all.”

“F-fight?” I said, confused. I was - I really was! - trying to be angry, trying to resist. But I knew I was instead coming across as pathetic and weak. I clearly, obviously, didn’t really care about my position here, my authority. I only cared about how fucking hot this was though inside my logical side wanted to be enraged and rebel. I was turned on more and more every moment, with every belittling comment Gianna lobbed my way. Regardless of what I said, it was obvious that I was exactly where they wanted me. They knew I would fall into line. Maybe I already had.

Gianna, though, had worked herself into an animated fervor, and she was very obviously still pissed. “I can’t wait, I really can’t,” she began again, “for this study to be fucking done with so I can get out of quarantine and get a hive of my own!”

What? What was she talking about?

“I want to start flexing,” she continued, now sounding like she was talking to herself as much as she was addressing me or anyone else. “I’m a fucking queen and all I have to show for it so far are these enormous tits.”

“wh-what do you m-?” I asked, obtusely. I really had no idea, dear reader, what was going on.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t realize,” she pressed on, speaking over me, “how every girl around you has been busting through their bras, just to give you more to look at? Even me. Even just being on these fucking video chats with you has done this…”

At that, onscreen, Gianna turned in profile, pressed forth her shockingly big chest, and nearly gave me an aneurysm. 

“It’s you, you little fucker, you little boob monkey,” she chastised, turning back to the camera, “You’re the one doing this to us.”

“Wh-what??” I stammered, more confused than ever. Is this woman crazy? What’s she talking about??

She continued on her rant, speaking quickly, in heat. “Yep I was assigned to you and surprise surprise what makes me best at getting you to do what I need?” At that, she cupped her hands under her giant breasts and lifted them, bouncing them up and down, flesh quivering above her neckline. “These. You’re the one male I’m allowed to talk to and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We knew you were a tit-obsessed freak. I just can’t believe I’m so fucking attracted to you now, either. You’re fucking perfect, so small and weak.”

I was sputtering, confused, still trying to be angry and definitely weirded out by the delusions of this woman, but finding it hard - god help me - to argue back when a set of tits like that just told me I was cute. But, I knew I needed to somehow get this meeting out of its bizarre tailspin and was about to speak up again when Gianna asked for the blond behemoth again. 

“Morgan, sweetie, can you pull his desk out of the way?” she queried, “Just make sure he can still see his computer.”

“Of course,” Morgan answered and then suddenly - sweet lord - with the ease of someone pulling the sheets off the bed she’d yanked my desk back away from me, just enough so, now that she’d stepped back around, she had room to squeeze in, crouch down between my legs and with one hand on each of my knees spread my legs. And she had, yes, repositioned my screen so Gianna could watch this whole thing and - more importantly for her, I think - I could see her. 

“I obviously need you to imprint on me a bit,” Gianna explained through the speakers, adjusting her low-cut blouse and my view of her tits as Morgan looked up into my eyes and seemed ready to just pull the thin fabric of my scrub pants off me. With the same strength she’d shown with my desk, my pants could come off like tissue paper. I knew I’d be in her mouth in seconds. Morgan smiled, grabbed the fabric of my scrubs at my thighs, and slowly started to tear them away when suddenly we were interrupted.  

“Knock knock,Sweetie,” an angelic voice came from the doorway, “I’ve got you your milk…”

Melissa. 

===============================================

thanks to RiF again for his help editing and inspiring.

Here there be more:

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Touch - p.p

chapter one - an encounter 

synopsis: you love him, but you can never touch him

“Spiderling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Peter turned around at the sound of Tony’s voice, eyes widening in surprise when he saw you for the first time, perched at Tony’s side.

“Hi. I’m Peter.” Peter introduced himself as he reached out his hand.

“Y/n.” You said as you shook his hand, automatically taking his pain. “Oo, shoulder pain.”

“How did you do that?” Peter gasped as he touched his fixed shoulder. “My shoulders been killing me.”

“I took your pain. Damn, you were really hurting huh?” You chuckled as you shook out your arm.

“Yeah. It’s been messed up for weeks.” Peter laughed as he rolled his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Isn’t she amazing? She’s my newest recruit.” Tony explained. “Welcome to the Avengers, Icy Hot. You’ll fit right in.”

“I hope so.” You smiled nervously. “I appreciate the opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“Hear that Peter? She calls me sir.” Tony pointed to you proudly. “Brownie points for manners.”

Peter smiled at you and you smiled back, already taking an interest in each other.

“Thank you, sir.” You chuckled again, eyeing Peter every now and then as he did the same to you.

“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the team.” Tony offered as he put his hand on the small of your back.

“Okay. It was nice meeting you Peter.” You waved at him as you passed him in the hallway.

“You too.” Peter waved back, a smile staying on his face long after you left.

~

You saw Peter in the gym the next day, sweating through his shirt as he threw punches at the heavy bag. You smiled at him as you climbed on the elliptical, sweating through your sports bra soon enough.

“Damn it.” Peter suddenly hissed as he pulled off his boxing glove.

“You okay?” You stopped your movement at the elliptical.

“Punched the bag too hard.” Peter sighed as he shook his throbbing hand. “I busted my knuckles.”

You climbed off the elliptical and approached Peter, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Peter’s face blushed slightly as you came close enough for him to see the sweat beads rolling down your neck.

“Can I see?” You asked softly as you held out your hands. Peter nodded slightly and placed his hand into yours. Your held his hand firmly and closed your eyes as the process began. Peter saw your veins darken as the pain left his body. You winced a little as his cut healed right before his eyes.

“Does that hurt you?” Peter asked as he looked at you.

“Yeah, but not that much.” You answered. “I heal really fast so it’s just a watered down version of whatever pain I take.”

“Thats really cool.” Peter smiled softly. “You’re gonna be great for our team.”

“You think?” You lit up. “I feel so lame compared to you guys. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep up.”

“Healing people isn’t lame.” Peter assured you. “You’ll totally keep up.”

“Says the boy who can lift busses.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did you google me?” Peter pretended to gasp as he was secretly flattered.

“Maybe.” You said coyly. “I thought it was really admirable how you helped that old lady cross the street.”

“Which one?” Peter joked. “That’s my specialty.”

“You wanna know what my specialty is?” You stepped a little closer to him.

“What?” Peter asked, his entire body flushed from your close proximity.

“I can take a bruised peach and make it fresh. Mr. Stark has me do it every day. I used to blow all the kids minds at lunch.” You rubbed your nails on your shoulder like you were bragging.

“Thats really amazing. How have you not won a Nobel Peace Prize yet?” Peter teased you.

“I keep getting nominated but I’m always snubbed.” You sighed dramatically.

“Well peaches, I think you’re gonna keep up with this team just fine.” Peter smirked. “We could all use a little healing.”

“I’m glad I could be of service to you.” You stepped even closer, chests almost touching. Peter’s breath fanned your face for a moment, but before he could even close his eyes, you pulled away.

“I ,uh, I gotta go.” You stepped back from him and blinked a few times to regain your composure. “See you around.”

You swiftly left the gym, leaving Peter in a cloud of confusion as you went.

~

“Hey.” You walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Are you baking?”

“Trying to. I think I forgot the eggs. And the milk.” Peter realized as he stared into his dry mixture. After a month of living in the tower, you’d gotten used to Peter’s failed attempts at baking.

You’d also gotten used to Peter.

“What are you making?” You came over his shoulder and peered in his bowl. Peter’s face flushed as he became hyperaware of how close you were. Close, but not touching.

“Muffins. Do they look okay to you?” Peter asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Um, do you want a real answer or a nice answer?” You grimaced as you looked in the bowl again and saw his lumpy mixture.

“Damn it. Why is this so hard?” Peter whined. “Let me see if my first batch is ready.”

Peter went to the oven and opened it up, instinctively reaching in and grabbing the muffin tin.

“Ouch!” He yanked his hand back and held it to his chest, squirming in pain.

“Peter! You can’t grab things directly out of the oven.” You exclaimed as you rushed towards him.

“I know.” He sighed as he shook his burning finger. “But I wasn’t wearing oven mitts when I put it in so I forget to wear them when I take it out.”

“Come here.” You immediately closed your hands around his burnt hand and began to take his pain.

“Won’t it hurt you?” Peter tried to pull away but you held him in place.

“I’ll be okay.” You chuckled as you continued to take his pain. Peter sighed in relief as you winced from the feeling.

“Better?” You asked once you had finished, following your words with a kind squeeze of his hands.

“Better.” He nodded. “Thanks peaches.”

“I got you.” You flirted, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Do you?” Peter took a step closer to you, bringing his free hand up to enclose around your hand. You gulped nervously and closed your eyes for a moment before stepping back. Peter immediately felt the loss of warmth and felt disappointment sink into his stomach.

“I’ll get the muffins out.” You stammered as you went to get an oven mitt out of the drawer. “Don’t want them to burn.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded as he leaned against the counter, barely listening because of how disappointed he felt. “Okay.”

This was how your relationship went on. You grew closer in your friendship, but never in your distance. Every time Peter thought you were about to touch, you made an excuse to pull away. Although he was used to it, it still hurt him every time.

“Hey Aquaman.” You greeted Peter as you approached the pool one day. “Mind if I join you?”

“By all means.” Peter nodded. “As long as you don’t pee in the pool.”

You could tell from his face that he immediately regretted what he said, his regret making you laugh.

“Are you proud that you said that?” You teased him as you untied your robe and dropped it to the floor. Peter’s face heated up at the sight of you in your black bathing suit as he quickly adverted his eyes.

“I can’t say I am.” He said as he pretended to be interested in something far away.

“Don’t worry about it. I say dumb things all the time.” You told him as you took out a bottle of sunscreen. You began to run in into your skin, missing your back almost entirely.

“You need some help?” Peter offered, noticing your struggle.

“I’m good.” You said, a little quickly. “Just keep the water warm for me, all right?”

“Was that another pee joke?” Peter whined, knowing he was never going to live that down

“It wasn’t intended to be.” You laughed as you stood by the edge of the pool. “I’m coming in. Is it cold?”

“No, because I just peed.” Peter said simply, making you laugh again.

“Peter.” You whined as you dipped your toe in. “No more pee jokes.”

“I’m sorry, peaches, but you made it so easy.” He defended himself.

“I’m scared.” You quickly took your toe out and rubbed your arms.

“Why? It’s just water.”

“Cold water.” You reminded him.

“Just jump in.”

“But I’ll splash you.” You worried.

“I think I’ll live.” Peter chuckled. You looked at the water one more time before jumping in, a small wave spraying Peter as you did.

“Did I get you wet?�� You asked as you came to the surface right in front of Peter. It took Peter a minute to process what you said, as he was too focused on how pretty you looked with water droplets in your eyelashes.

“I’m in a pool.” He reminded you. “I was already wet.”

“Well did I splash you?” You rolled your eyes at him.

“I don’t know. Does a splash feel like this?” Peter asked innocently as he splashed you in the face.

“My hair!” You gasped as the wave hit you.

“Aw. Did you get your hair wet while submerged in water? How did that possible happen?” Peter asked sarcastically as he splashed you again.

“Oh, you got jokes? Well now you’re gonna have water damage.” You smiled deviously as you splashed him.

“Hey. No splashing.” He said, knowing how ironic it was since he did it twice.

“Fine. Then I’ll just drown you.” You said simply as you grabbed his shoulders and tried to force him under the water. As you touched him, you felt the scrape he had on his elbow transfer to you.

“Not if I drown you first.” Peter Parker warned as he grabbed your by the waist. He lifted you up as you squirmed in his arms.

“Peter. Put me down.” You laughed as you tried to break out of his grasp.

“As you wish, peaches.” He said before throwing you into the water.

“You’re gonna get it now.” You threatened as you swam back towards him. You began to wrestle in a way, your hands intertwined as you tried to overpower each other. Peter could overpower you easily, and he knew this, but he held back so you’d think it was a fair fight. He let go suddenly and you fell forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as he caught you. You stared at each other for a moment, breathily heavily as he tightened his grip on your waist.

“What am I gonna get?” Peter asked through labored breaths. Your eyes flicked to his lips before going back to his eyes as a wicked smile tugged at your lips.

“Water in your ear.” You answered as you jumped back from him. As soon as you let go, you splashed him again before swimming away.

“You did it.” Peter laughed sadly as he wiped the water from his eyes. “You got me.”

~

“Incoming!” Peter exclaimed as he swung into the alleyway, kicking the robber you’d been chasing in the chest at full speed.

“Oh no.” The man grunted as he got up from the floor. “It’s that one guy.”

“Is it though?” Peter tilted his head to the side. As if on cue, you dropped down on the other side of the robber and waved.

“Hey!” You chirped. “How’s it going?”

Before he could answer, you kicked his wrist, making him drop his backpack full of the stolen money.

“Oops! My bad!” You feigned a sad face.

“I’ll take that.” Peter shot a web at the bag and pulled it towards himself.

“You bitch!” The man exclaimed as he held he wrist.

“Hey!” Peter shouted. “That’s now how you talk to women.”

Peter kicked the man towards you and you caught him, quickly squeezing his shoulders and sending all the pain in your body into the man. The man groaned in pain as Peter shot a web at the mans gun.

“Let me get this off your hands.” Peter said as he pulled the gun out of the mans hand. The man made an angry face at Peter, who kept himself from laughing.

“Woah, fine. You can have it back.” Peter let go of the web and the gun came flying back, smacking the robber in the face and knocking him out.

“I genuinely didn’t mean to do that.” Peter gulped as the man fell to the floor.

“Nice work.” You laughed as you stepped over the limp body. “Let’s move.”

Peter webbed up the robber and threw him over his shoulder as you collected the bag and the gun. You walked back towards the bank, where you found police at the scene.

“Here you go.” You smiled sweetly as you handed a cop the items. “Hope you boys had a nice night.”

Peter turned the robber over to the police, smiling a little at what you said.

“Don’t tease the police men, peaches.” He whispered in your ear as you walked back towards the tower. “It’s not their fault they’re lame.”

You laughed at his joke and felt your hand brush against his. The bumped into each other one more time before you pulled your hand away and pretended to scratch your head.

“Um, do you want to watch a movie when we get back?” You suggested to distract from the awkwardness of the near hand holding. “I’m cool with watching the nerd shit you like.”

“Yeah, sure.” Peter nodded, disappointed once again. “And it’s not nerd shit. It’s science fiction.”

“We are saying the same words.” You teased, keeping your hands busy so the couldn’t touch his.

“Hey, I don’t rip on you when you watch those little romantic comedies.” Peter retorted.

“I’ll say it again, if you gave 13 Going On 30 a chance-“

“I know, I know.” He rolled your eyes. “I’d love it and I’d be a better person for watching it. You tell me all the time.”

“Because it’s true!” You exclaimed. “And you still refuse to watch it.”

“How about we watch it tonight, peaches?” Peter suggested as he rubbed your arm. “Maybe I’d like it better if you watched it with me.”

“Okay.” You smiled as you stepped away from his touch. “It’s a date.”

Peter nodded as he felt confusion sink in. Your words and actions always said entirely different things.

“I’ll meet you in the theater at 10. I think we both could use a shower.” Peter changed the subject before he could think too deeply into it.

“Why don’t you just meet me in the shower then?” You shrugged as you looked at him. Peter immediately stopped walking and turned bright red under his mask.

“What?” He squeaked.

“I’m kidding. God, you’re such a pervert.” You said playfully as you winked at him.

“What a tease.” Peter clicked his tongue as he shook his head.

“You know it.” You chuckled. “See you at 10.”

~later~

“Hey. Popcorn?” You held up a bowl of popcorn as you slid next to Peter on the couch.

“You think of everything.” He smiled gratefully at you as he took a few pieces.

“Just like how you thought about me in the shower.” You said casually as you popped some pieces in your mouth.

“I did not.” Peter insisted as he stole more popcorn.

“No, yeah, I believe you.” You smirked a little, layering on the sarcasm.

“Stop it. You’re mean.” Peter pouted as he rested his head on your shoulder. You tensed you for a moment as you felt the wear and tear from his day leave his body and go into yours. You had to admit, the contact was nice, but you knew it couldn’t last.

“Excuse me. I’m not a pillow.” You joked as you moved your shoulder out from under him. He picked his head up as he took your hint, feeling a familiar sadness settle into his bones with your rejection. He cut his losses and picked up the remote, pretending to take total interest in the TV to distract himself from his emotions.

“So uh, Star Wars?” He asked with a weak voice.

“Star Wars.” You nodded, pretending not to notice the forlorn look on his face.

An hour or so into the movie, Peter noticed you trying to keep yourself awake. Your head would droop occasionally as your eyelids grew heavy. Every time your head almost fell on Peters shoulder, you quickly caught yourself and sat up.

“What’s wrong with you?” Peter asked after the fourth time your head almost touched him.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him curiously.

“You don’t have to sit up that straight of you’re tired.” He said softly. “You can lean into me, you know. I don’t bite.”

“I’m good.” You told him. “I don’t want to smother you.”

“You won’t smother me.” He laughed gently as he gazed at you.

“I’m okay.” You repeated, keeping your eyes ahead.

“Okay.” Peter didn’t want to push you. He turned his gaze back to the movie, but he couldn’t focus at all. It was another day of being left in the dark about how you felt, and it was starting to weigh him down. He shot one more look at you before watching the rest of the movie in silence.

You, Peter, and Bucky sat in the kitchen the following morning, zero conversation between the three of you. Peter’s ego was still bruised from the night before, so he wasn’t particularly thrilled about speaking to you. He knew it was dumb to hold a grudge, but he was hurting. To make himself look busy, he focused on chopping up vegetables so he didn’t have to look at you.

You were too concerned with the soft winces and sighs that were coming from Bucky to realize Peter was ignoring you. By the fourth time Bucky sighed, you opened your mouth.

“You okay?” You asked as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled. “Just some Phantom limb pain.”

“Mind if I…” You held up your hand to ask silently. Bucky looked at your hand hesitantly before nodded. You rested your hand on his residual limb and shut your eyes, slowly taking his pain. He cracked the faintest hint of a smile as the pain left his body, all of this taking place under Peter’s watchful eye.

“Thanks.” He said stiffly once you withdrew your hand.

“Anytime.” You smiled at him. He nodded at you before leaving the kitchen altogether. Once he was gone, Peter continued chopping the vegetables.

“That was nice of you. Are you guys close?” Peter asked without looking up.

“Not really.” You shrugged. “I take his pain sometimes when he comes to me for help.

“Hm.” Peter’s lips folded in a tight line as he continued chopping.

“What?” You scoffed a little at his strange reaction.

“He never asks people for help, much less for comfort. He must really like you.” Peter shrugged bitterly and he began to chop faster.

“Really?” You smiled a little. “You think Bucky likes me?”

“Do you want him to like you?” Peter asked quietly, finding himself in a worse mood than when the conversation started.

“I don’t know. I guess it would just be kinda cool, you know?” You laughed as you rubbed your arms. “I’m not the one people usually crush on.”

The was the final straw for Peter, his anger making him drop the knife with a loud clang.

“Maybe because you don’t let anyone in.” He snapped, causing you to jump.

“Excuse me?” You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden outburst.

“How come you never let me touch you unless you’re healing me?” He asked, voice shaking as his emotions boiled to the surface.

“What?” You blinked a few times in surprise as you realized Peter was aware of how you distanced yourself from him. You always thought your blockades and barriers went over his head, and the fact that he knew you were doing it plagued you with guilt.

“You’re always right there.” Peter shook his head as he walked over to you. “We hover and dance around each other, but we don’t touch. Why do we do that? Why don’t we make contact?”

Peter was right in front of you now, close enough that if he took a deep breath, your chests would touch.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, Peter.” You mumbled as you adverted your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t just take pain away.” You spoke as you looked up at him. “I can also administer it. If I wanted to, I could kill someone with just one touch. What if I lost control of my powers and hurt you? I could never live with myself.”

“You have great control of your powers.” Peter protested. When he saw that you were unconvinced, he held up a hand. “You wouldn’t hurt me, see?”

You stared at his hand for a moment, wanting more than anything to touch it. You held up your hand as well, reaching towards Peter’s before drawing back.

“All it takes is one time, Peter.” You looked at him fearfully. “I’m a walking hazard. I just want to minimize the casualties.”

“I’d risk it.” He pleaded as his fingers twitched, aching to touch you. You looked at his hand again before dropping yours to your side.

“I wouldn’t.”

~

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

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[ereawrites]

Diego’s alarm blares you awake at 5:45AM - you know this without even opening your eyes because, unpredictable as Diego is, he always wakes up unreasonably early to work out. You know this because he always texts you at 6AM to bitch about how stiff his shoulders are.

Today, you’re sure, his whole body will be screaming at him. Having shown up at your door last night just after midnight, covered in dust and dirt and bruises, Diego had simply shrugged off your concerns.

“What-“, you started, but he was already sliding past you into your apartment. At least he had the decency to pat your cheek as he passed.

“Nothing to worry about.”, Diego said, rifling through your refrigerator as if it were his own. He didn’t need to know that you keep extra eggs in stock for him, after all. “I jumped out of a window, that’s all. Totally fine.”

His back was to you and you could still see his stupid little smile. “Well, excuse me for not figuring that one out right away. Unforgivable.”. He huffed out a quiet laugh at that, gingerly turning to face you with your last bottle of milk in hand.

“You want this for breakfast in the morning?”

You did. You absolutely did. He dropped off a box of your favourite cereal two days ago, claiming to have been ‘passing by’, and that was total bullshit because the closest store is 15 minutes’ walk away from your house, and he shouldn’t even have known your favourite cereal because Diego Hargreeves was very much not your boyfriend.

Anyway.

His bust lower lip had twisted up into a too-soft smile when you said, “Nah, go for it. Just don’t drink it so fast that you’re sick this time. I’ll be in the bathroom to help fix you up when you’re done.”

-

The window is now taking its revenge. Is this his karma for destruction of property, you muse to yourself as you stretch the kind of stretch that makes your whole body shake, or for waking you up last night? Diego grunts. The alarm shuts off and you hear his phone clatter unceremoniously back onto the nightstand.

“Good morning.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry. Go back to sleep, I’ll be out of here in a minute.”. Bless his soul, he really does sound apologetic. Thankfully, the deep rumble of his first-thing-in-the-morning voice does wonders to put you in a good mood with him.

When you roll over to face him, you’re not quite sure what you notice first: the gentle, bleary brown eyes, or the bruise smacked right across his cheekbone. “Hm, it’s okay. How are you feeling?”

Diego’s palm envelops the back of your hand and gives a quick squeeze. “Great.”, he hums, despite how exhausted he looks. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll bring you breakfast after my workout.” - and you’re at least 60% sure he was born with persuasive powers, too, because the way he looks at you leaves you reeling in the early morning light, and he’s halfway sat up before you can even react.

“Nope. No. Absolutely not. You need to rest today.”, you insist, grabbing his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Diego is a stubborn little shit and he looks at you like you’re an idiot - sweetly, sympathetically, and you’d want to kill him if he hadn't managed to carve out such a soft spot in your chest. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and you permit it if only to admire them. It’s far too early for subtlety and, hey, Diego’s always loved flattery.

“I don’t have time.”

When flattery doesn’t work, reason is your next best bet. A little guilt can't hurt, either, right? You pout up at him. “Who’s committing crimes at 6AM, baby? It can wait.”

(You should not call Diego that. He is not your boyfriend.

His face lights up just a bit.)

“Troublemakers.”

He smirks, and you know you’ve lost with that approach. Diego flip-flops between sweetness and sarcasm as if he's attached to a particularly irritating bungee cord, promising you breakfast one minute and deliberately driving you crazy the next. With a brush of his thumb over your knuckles, he’s moving away and stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

You wag an accusatory finger at him, still squinting in the ray of sunlight that manages to penetrate through your broken shutters. You’ll get him to fix it later this week. “Troublemakers like the guys who crash through innocent windows?”

“That’s different-“

“-In fact,”, you smile, poking at the skin of his gorgeous back in a petty attempt to get his attention solely back on you. “Maybe I should report you to the police. Bring down the crime rates and all.”

“You’d love to see me in handcuffs, huh?”, he quips as he stands and stretches again, giving you a perfect view of those lithe muscles in action. Boy, would you ever. But the smugness in his voice is way too evident, even if you can’t see his face: your only option is to scoff. 

“You’d be lucky.”, which is absolutely true (because you would rock his shit), because you’re pretty sure Diego is all bark and no bite, because you’ve seen just enough of his hidden tender side to really believe all his cocky jokes. You try not to dwell on it too much, but a tiny part of your heart believes that maybe Diego really, really cares for you.

Maybe it’s because of how he leans back over the bed to hold your cheek in his palm. God, he has you crumbling with that look in his eyes sometimes. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

Then his touch is gone, and it’s so embarrassing how you almost chase after it, but you smush your face into the pillow with a sigh. He’s stubborn as a mule and you're too exhausted to put up much more of a fight. Maybe you should just let him go for his ridiculous workout. Let him push his tired body, and let him send you an extra bitchy text in half an hour. You’ll ignore him, really teach him a lesson. See how he likes that.

You're just beginning to snicker into the pillow when Diego bends down to grab his shirt, staggers on his bad leg, and whimpers in pain.

Oh, well. Not a chance he's leaving now.

Three weeks ago, Diego had insisted on giving you some sort of self-defence training, which you had only actually agreed to on the assumption that you’d be able to annoy the shit out of him with it later. The main focus had been on ‘using the opponent’s size against them’ - this was not the first time you’d understood the reason behind all the Batman jokes - and, oh, this is the perfect opportunity to test your new skills.

With all the grace of a drunken bull, you leap from the bed, nearly tripping on the tangled bedsheets, and wrap your arms around his waist. Diego reaches out to steady you even as you're dragging him back towards the bed, tumbling down with him in tow and turning the impact into a roll that leaves him on the far side of the bed, with you curled tightly around his back, arm draped across his chest. The final step is to sling your leg over his hip, effectively pinning him with the least possible pressure on his sore muscles.

“Honey-”, Diego begins, but then you're running your fingers through his hair and it dissolves into a quiet little oh that you’re sure looks perfect on those pouty lips. It strikes you that this is the first time Diego has let you hold him - you're always the little spoon, on the rare occasions that both of you give in to the desire to touch each other, and you’re shocked by how right it seems to feel him melt into your touch. All the fight vanishes from his body in seconds.

“…I sleep better when you’re here, you know.” - and it’s not using any tricks to get him to stay, it’s just the plain truth. Diego’s breath hitches in his throat. It’s partially for selfish reasons that you want him to stay in bed, you admit, but mostly because he deserves a rest for once. You worry for him more than you would ever let him know. He probably figures it out, anyway, once you give in and drop your forehead to rest against the back of his neck. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to care - it’s much nicer to just enjoy how he kisses your wrist on the next brush of your fingers through his hair.

He’s leaning into your hand even before he pretends to grudgingly concede. “Just another hour.”

You’ll see about that.

[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.”

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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.

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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."

[willowworkswithwords]

codywan week 2021

Day One: Fix-it au. Order 66 sorta happens, but codywan definitely happens. 

Possible tw: very brief alluding to eating issues, character death mentioned (Palpatine)

Cody stood outside his apartment, Obi-Wan waiting patiently behind him. Cody had never been inside an apartment before. He knew some of the others had, the more adventurous ones who’d pick up beings to stay the night with. But Cody had never seen a sleeping quarter that wasn’t the barracks.

Obi-Wan held a large box with what he considered to be ‘essentials’ for living on his own. At that thought Cody had to tighten his grip on the suitcase that held the civvie clothes he had bought with his backpayment.

Alone.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Obi-Wan stepped inside behind him. ------

Three months should have been enough time to get used to waking up on a soft bed. It should have been enough time to get used to the way his civvies scratched his skin in all the wrong places, not sitting like his blacks had. It should have been enough to get used to food that wasn’t ration bars, but nowadays if he managed a small civvy breakfast with a cup of caf without puking, it was a win.

Very little of this was feeling like a win.

His men were uncomfortable and uncertain. The environment wasn’t exactly hostile, but it hadn’t entirely welcomed them with open arms. Every day they learned something new, something contradictory to what they had learned the day before.

It was grating on Cody’s nerves, and he was the one who had a Jedi to help him personally. Not many of his brother still had their generals.

Cody pushed that thought away with the bedsheets, feet meeting polished wood soundlessly even now when he didn’t have to worry about waking his brothers the next bunk over.

He wouldn’t think about that night. What was done was done. Obi-Wan had done what he had been able to, wishing for more would only enable the guilt he knew his general was harboring. Obi-Wan always felt he needed to do more.

But this had been his people, his friends, his family. Obi-Wan had defeated Sidious, saved Anakin from Falling, saved Cody and his brothers.

Cody knew Obi-Wan said his own sort of remembrances every night, every time his eyes slipped closed. The vode almost lost their minds that night, but they’d been brought back from the brink. Obi-Wan had still lost family.

Cody poured a glass’ worth of blue milk into a saucepan, heating it slowly like Obi-Wan had taught him. His eyes nearly slipped closed, but he forced them open. Into a glass the milk went, and onto the windowsill he sat.

Sitting with his back against the left side of the window, he could see the Temple. He sat there with his warm milk and watched the sun rise, thinking of Obi-Wan. ------ “Hello there, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, voice gravelly and eyes still foggy with sleep. Cody wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to waking up next to him.

Slowly, for his own sake rather than Obi-Wan’s, Cody reached up to cradle Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan shivered, eyes fluttering closed. The night had been riddled with nightmares after a long talk about what they should do now.

Now that Cody was legally a sentient, now that Cody was a free man, now that Cody could choose exactly what he did and didn’t want.

Now that Obi-Wan could be what he truly was again, not play the part, however well he did, of a general when he was raised to keep the peace.

Six months had passed since Obi-Wan and Mace Windu had killed Palpatine. The order had gone out and lasted for four minutes. The 212th had still been on Utapau, no Jedi to kill, but the Corusaunt Guard and battalions back for leave hadn’t been so lucky.

Six months had passed and the guilt still sat deep in between them, not separating them, but connecting them further.

Six months since that night. Two months since a much different night.

Two months since sleeping with each other had become second nature.

Two months since they had finally, finally been clear with each other, held nothing back and made to understand what each other wanted.

It had turned out, both of them just wanted to be by each other’s sides. Not as Grand Marshall Commander Cody and High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi, but as Cody and Obi-Wan.

Cody pulled Obi-Wan against his chest, smiling but already slipping back towards sleep while lanky arms wound themselves around his chest, a leg sliding over his own.

They had lost so much, but if this continued, Cody thought that maybe one day, it all could be worth it.

[definitelynotsuzumi]

Zapped to Another World [Chapter 4}

I can finally update now that its school break! Thank you all for your patience!

[Masterlist]

Aether wiped off a stray droplet of sweat, weaving the plant fibres into the shape of a lantern. It has only been 2 days into the festival and already, he was swamped with the task of creating more lanterns to take to people who were too far from the harbour.

“Aether, Aether look! Look at this! Doesn’t it look like Paimon?” His white-haired floating fairy chattered excitedly, waving around what looked like an amber on a stick.

“What’s that, Paimon?” Aether paused in his lantern making to give the stick a once-over.

It was artfully sculpted to look like the said fairy and it smelled incredibly sweet.

“The lady said it was Karamel! I got another for you too!” Paimon excitedly fished out a star-shaped one. Cautiously, Aether gave it a lick. It tasted warm and sweet. It reminded him of home. Lumine…

“You’ve been at that lantern for the past 2 hours. C’mon, take a small break.” While Paimon may have been wrong about several things before, Aether knew that she was right on this fact.

“Alright, let’s have a break then.”

After 3 days(and night) of walking and riding on the back of wagons, you had finally reached the gates of Liyue.

Liyue looked spectacular with the lanterns adorning every corner of the street. You were in awe. You thought it looked beautiful in the game, but in the flesh…It was more than you could ever dream of.

Each lantern had its own unique design. You could hear the drums and cymbals crashing as performers danced under a giant suit that looked like the Adepti of Liyue. The scent of grilling fish and sweets wafted through the thick hair of the harbour. It felt so homely, almost like one of the carnivals you had attended.

“Woah…Ow!” You bumped into a ginger-haired man. Tartaglia.

Cold reality slapped you across your face. The Fatui is everywhere.

“Oh! Sorry, are you alright?” Concern lit his handsome features. If you were not careful…You very much wanted to pull away your hand but you hesitantly let Tartaglia pull you up. You definitely did not want the man suspecting you about anything.

“Uhm, uh yeah sorry, I wasn’t looking. This is my first time seeing all of this…” You tried to gulp down your fear of the man.

“I feel you! Hahaha, are you new here? Well, you must be. I have not seen such a pretty lady like yourself around these parts before.”  Despite your fear of the Fatui, you felt your face flush in response to his flirting.

“Yeah, very much so, I’m afraid. I’m looking for a friend of mine. About yeh high and has a white floating fairy by his side.” You gestured a rough height.

“Oh! What a small world!” Tartaglia beamed at you. He seemed so innocent as he aimed a bright and friendly smile at you, but you knew better.

“Uh…Do you know him, by any chance?”

“Know him? Well of course! I dare say that he is one of my good friends! Come, come, I’ll take you to him!”

He gestured you to follow him, and reluctantly you did so.

Tartaglia had never seen someone so shy and scared before. Is it because I am part of the Fatui?

You looked so innocent when he bumped into you at the gates. The way you gaped and looked around Liyue like you’ve never seen it before… It almost reminded him of Teucer and his sisters in Shneznaya.

“Please don’t be afraid of me. While I admit, I am not that nice of a guy, I promise I won’t do anything bad to you.” Seeing you stiffen at his words, Tartaglia felt a particularly large drop of sweat dribbling down.

Did that just backfire?

“Childe?! What are you doing here?!” A familiar high pitched voice reached your ears. You could feel her disgust all the way from your place.

Yup, that was Paimon. By her side, was Aether, with his arms akimbo.

“Relax, I mean no harm. I bumped into this cute little girlie over here and thought I’d help her out in finding you.”

“Finding us? Wait what? Who are you?” Paimon frowned.

“Uh...Uhm I’m (Y/N)…Please let me follow you on your journey!” You bowed 90 degrees, hoping you could hide the flush on your cheeks. You’ve always dreamed of this moment but now that it is in your face, you felt your tongue being weighed down by iron ore.

“What?!” The sheer shock on their faces would have been comical under other circumstances, but right now, it did not do favours for your nerves.

“If…You would let me join? I’m sorry, was that too forward of me? My dad always talks about you and I thought maybe, if I joined, he would-“

“That’s okay. Please, it would be great to celebrate the Lantern Rite with more friends.” Aether fixed you with a warm smile that felt genuine.

“How about me?” Tartaglia winked at Aether.

“No.”

Aether felt slightly apprehensive when he saw you with Tartaglia, but taking in your clothes and the lack of the Fatui insignia and signature mask on your person, he was certain that you were innocent.

“So, where are you from?” Paimon asked as your group leisurely walked through the bustling streets.

Seeing Tartaglia by your side, you decided to tell a white lie.

“Mondstadt! My dad’s an Adventurer at the guild so he’s told me all about what you did!” You definitely felt better when Aether fell in step with you, walking and talking by your side. You couldn’t help but feel bad as you realized the amount of lies you were telling was increasing.

“Wow, we’re famous!” Paimon grinned at Aether.

“Yeah! You were amazing in that battle with the Stormterror! I thought…Maybe I could grow stronger if I journeyed with you. Ah, but don’t worry, I can cook and clean-“

“You can cook?!” Paimon began to salivate.

You nodded. You were able to cook a few dishes, thanks to your Home Ec classes.

“Can we have a taste?!”

You bit your lip as you surveyed the ingredients you had. A handful of sunsettias, berries, flour, sugar, butter and half a bottle of milk. Looking at your group waiting expectantly outside of Wanmin Restaurant, you smiled.

‘Guess I’ll let them have a taste of Dorayaki.’

Xiangling had also let you borrow a little of their ingredients in case you did not have enough to feed your group. Of course, you had paid her a generous tip for lending you her ingredients.

Combining some eggs, sugar and honey that Xiangling had, you whisked it up the best you could with a fork. You carefully passed the flour through a noodle sieve into the mix. You could feel his stare piercing you from behind as you tried to focus on cooking.

Mixing it all together, you fashioned a mini ice box with your Cryo powers to rest your mix and turned to making the sweet filling. With a sharp knife, you chopped up the sunsettias and berries and sat them in a pot of sugar.

You heated the sugar and fruits together, humming a soft tune as you fished out a mandarin orange and squeezed its juices into the berry jam you had made. Sliding the jam into a clean jar, you sat it in the ice box you had made.

Taking your rested mix, you added and mixed in a tablespoon of water before readying a skillet, greasing it over with butter.

Slowly but surely, you created a stack of perfectly brown and fluffy pancakes. Taking your cool jar of sunsettia and berry jam, you spooned out equal amounts of it onto the pancakes before pressing another pancake on top.

It was done! You placed the still warm dorayaki onto 3 plates, serving it to Aether, Paimon and Tartaglia.

“Woah…It smells…Incredible!” Paimon dove into the dorayaki right away. Paimon made the dorayaki look delicious as she enthusiastically gobbled down her treat.

You noticed Xiangling’s eyes glitter as she stared down at the dorayaki. You looked down at your own share. You honestly wanted to dig in too, but seeing her doe eyes made you sigh and surrender your portion to the young female chef.

“R-Really?! I can have this?!” You nodded with a soft smile as Xiangling leapt for joy before biting down. You did not think it was possible, but the light in her eyes shone even brighter as she tasted your dish.

“Say, wanna join the Wanmin Restaurant instead?” Xiangling asked, her bright smile spreading wide across her lips and eyes.

“…I’ll have to decline, I wanna travel with Aether more!” You sheepishly turned down the offer. Aether and Tartaglia clearly enjoyed the treat as you noticed them both licking off the jam on their fingers.

“I don’t know about you, but I accept her into our travel group!” Paimon declared as Aether laughed, wiping off the last of the jam on her chin.

“Hey, how about me?” Tartaglia grinned hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Still, a no from me.”

Tartaglia then turned his attention to you, trying to use his puppy dog eyes on you.

“Hey, (Y/N), how about me?”

You silently turned away from his gaze.

“Why are you three so cruel?”

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Melting Wax, Crawling Vines: Part 5 (Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, slight voyeurism

Word Count: 2734

@meanduck

Vincent hadn't meant to spy. He didn't know when everyone was coming back, or if any of them were currently even at the house. Sure, Lester had told him that the three of you were leaving town, but he'd been disconnected from his brothers the second you had arrived. He only wandered inside the house because he wanted to see if the three of you were even back yet, and he was surprised to hear muffled voices coming from his room.

In his surprise, he'd managed to step on one of the floorboards that always creaked. He winced to himself, even if he doubted that the pair of you heard it. He took a step forward, pushing a painting slightly aside and glancing through a hole in the wall that only he knew about. 

There, inside his old room, was Lester and you. He couldn't make much out, but he could see his bed. He saw your suitcase and the box, and it didn't take long for him to piece together what was going on. She's staying in my room , he thought to himself. He knew he shouldn't have expected much else. Bo wouldn't give up his room, even if he slept in the basement under the auto-shop half the time. Lester wouldn't give up his room because, while he had a whole other place to stay, his stuff had filled it to the brim. So, it was either his room or their parents room, and Vincent knew it was an obvious choice.

He didn't stay long, and, in fact, left the second his younger brother eluded to knowing that he was there. He didn't really mind that you were taking his room, as he didn't see it as much of a loss. He spent most of his time in his workshop anyways, which did have a bed already in it. The only thing he hoped was that you didn't find the supplies he'd shoved under his bed.

***

You had woken up late, and the sun was high above the horizon by the time you peeled open your eyes. You rubbed your eyes, trying to clear them of any bleariness as you reached towards the bedside table for your watch. It was early afternoon, and you groaned. Your first impulsive thought was that you were going to have to fix your sleep schedule before school started, but you stopped that thought dead in your tracks. You weren't sure where you'd be teaching this year. You couldn't teach back at home, and you'd have to tell your new town that you could no longer accept the position. At least, until your ex was apprehended. You sighed, moving to press your face flat against the pillow. 

You'd stayed up past midnight, planning and prepping for the next night. You knew that you probably didn't need to, that the boys might not have super high expectations for classes. It was more to distract you from any potential thoughts about your ex, to distract you from the creeping anxiety and potential nightmares. Thankfully, you'd fallen into a blissfully dreamless sleep, one void of images of your ex or your sister. You blamed the new town, maybe even the new room. It wasn't your own, and it didn't resemble anything close to where you'd lived. The complete change in scenery probably had something to do with it. You picked at the blankets, wondering if that had anything to do with it either. Your old set had been one that had been brought with you, from the house you'd shared with your ex and your childhood home turned into your sister's home. Perhaps the bad dreams had been clinging to your sheets, like ghosts. You played with the thought, wondering if Vincent had any bad dreams attached to sheets you were under.

You shook your head. You'd been thinking about the mysterious figure far too much. You knew it was just curiosity, but you couldn't wait to meet him if not to just expel the way your mind consistently went back to him. You got out of bed, grabbing a pair of socks to wear so your feet wouldn't freeze on the wooden floor. You looked outside the window, seeing that Lesters car was gone. You guessed that Bo would be down at the auto shop, and you didn't know if Vincent even really lived in the house. So, you guessed you'd have it completely to yourself. 

You saw no reason to change, and you walked down to the first floor in just your sleep shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. You figured, worst case scenario, you'd end up having pizza for breakfast. If there was any left. You went straight to the kitchen, your footsteps silent as you approached, and you nearly jumped when you saw a figure at the sink. His back was turned to you, but you quickly guessed that this had to be Vincent.

He was as tall as Bo, if not a few inches taller. His hair was long and dark, and it looked almost as thought it had a few pieces of wax caught in it. He was wearing a sweater and overalls, despite the Louisiana weather. You couldn't imagine how he could withstand it, especially with working with hot wax all day. Eventually, you cleared your throat so you wouldn't sneak up on him.

You had leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, pressing your shoulder against it as you watched him jump. He dropped his bowl, and he was quick to turn to find the source of the noise. Like Bo had described, he was wearing a mask. You gave him a smile and a wave, knowing not to expect much of a response from him. At least, until you began to teach him some signs.

"Hi," You started, before giving him your name and walking closer. "You must be Vincent, right?" And you watched how he awkwardly swayed for a moment. He had turned so his hip was leaning against the counter, and, despite his size, he almost looked like a caged animal. Ready to run at the first sign of an opening. You walked until you were only a few steps in front of him, and you watched how he gave you a small nod. Your smile widened, and you held out your hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm excited for our first class tonight." You added, and you nearly thought he was going to leave you hanging.

After a long moment and a slightly too long of a silent pause, Vincent reached out to wrap his hand around your own. It was large and covered in wax in some spots, same as the front of his overalls. It seemed he'd just come from wherever he worked, and you supposed his hours were just as off as yours were. But, despite the spots of wax, his hands were warm and soft, and he only gave your hand a soft squeeze before he was dropping it. You tried to suppress your smile, as you guessed that Bo had been right. He really was shy, but you couldn't help but find it endearing.

"So, I'm guessing Bo and Lester went out?" You asked, and there was a shorter pause between his nod. You had moved, walked so you could stand a few steps besides him near the counter. So you felt less like you were trapping him against a wall. His gaze has followed you, and you could see a single blue eye peering out from the mask. Bo had been vague about the description of what lied underneath, but you also supposed that it was simply none of your business. Still, the way his eye stared at you, almost unblinking, realized how casually you were dressed for your first meeting. Subconsciously, you pulled up your shirt. "Do you guys happen to have anything to eat? Any coffee? I don't mean to ask for much, and I can always head to town…" You trailed off, watching as Vincent quickly sprung to action. He had to step closer, reach above you to open the cabinet and point towards the cereals on the lower shelf. He gestured to them, and you were able to guess his answer. Help yourself. And you watched as he turned his attention to a coffee maker. His movements were careful and deliberate, and as you looked around, you saw the kitchen was about as clean as you could expect it to be.

Vincent started a pot of coffee for you, simply because you were unfamiliar with their machine. You picked out a box of cereal, and Vincent was quick to show you where the bowls were. Despite showing you, he still reached to grab you one and then passed you a spoon. Thankfully, he didn't hover and let you pour your own cereal, and you gave him a smile and a quick thank you when he pulled out a carton of milk for you. He resumed his spot next to the coffee maker, hovering by it while you fixed your cereal. You could feel his stare glide over to you, but you kept your smile to yourself as you mixed the milk and the cereal before popping a spoonful into your mouth. It was, at least, breakfast related, so it was better than the alternative. Vincent tapped his fingers lightly against the counter as the coffee started, and you saw that his gaze flicked away from you the second you looked up at him. You did your best not to smile, and quickly had another spoonful of cereal to hide it. You saw that Vincent had pulled out two mugs, so you guessed that he was having one himself. When it was finished, he poured himself a cup and passed you the sugar. He let you fix your coffee how you liked it, and he placed the coffee pot back inside the maker to keep it warm. Once you were done, you helped him put everything back.

"So, I guess I'll see you tonight?" You asked, taking your bowl to the small table stuck just outside the kitchen. He gave you another nod, and you watched as he took his cup of coffee past the stairs. You figured his workshop was up there as you began to eat, idly thinking about what you were going to spend your time doing that day. Once you finished up, you washed both your bowl and your mug, setting them aside in the dish drainer, and went upstairs to change. It was still early afternoon, and you figured you could find Bo before you could find Lester. Luckily, your new room had a bathroom attached to it, so you didn't have to scour the place looking for a shower. 

You grabbed your toiletry bag from your back-pack, and fiddled with the shower for a moment until the water was to your liking. You took a quick shower after locking the door behind you, scrubbing off a days worth of sweat and any of the paranoia that lingered from the day before. Once you were showered, your teeth were brushed, and you were changed, you went down to find Bo. 

The walk was short and the sun was hot, the sky as clear as usual. You could already hear music playing from inside the shop, so you didn't figure Bo would be able to hear the bell of the door ring. You knocked against the open door to the garage, trying to catch Bo's attention from where he was ducked under your hood. He didn't look up, so you called,

"Bo!" And you startled him to the point where he knocked his head against the hood. You gasped, covering your mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry! You just didn't near me knock, so I-" You said, but he was taking off his cap to rub the back of his head and shouting,

"Fuck- Just turn down the music!" He cut you off with his words, and you were quick to whip around and turn it down. You heard him sigh and curse to himself, and you repeated a soft,

"I'm sorry." As you came back to the door of the garage. "I just- I just wanted to check-" But he was cutting you off again and saying,

"It's fine, it's fine. I just couldn't hear you. So, you're finally up, huh?" And you didn't know if the statement was supposed to have a bit of bite in it or if you were just imagining it. You supposed his annoyance was warranted, as he had just hit his head. Still, you bit your lip and quickly thumbed back towards the entrance.

"If you're busy, I can just- I can go explore. Walk around. Maybe pick some stuff up from the store if you need anything." But Bo was quick to say,

"No, no. I could actually use a hand here. Another set of eyes." He said, and you almost didn't note how quick he was to shut that idea down despite his previous annoyance at your arrival. Almost. You thought it was strange, and realized that this was the second time that your idea to explore the town had been shut down. Vincent's had been softer, but this one struck you. 

But he was beckoning you forward, and you were stepping closer and into the garage anyways. You didn't know nearly as much as Bo did, and it seemed more like he was trying to test your knowledge more than anything. You ended up mostly passing him tools and holding a flashlight for him, and when you asked,

"So, any idea what's wrong with it?" Bo's reply made little sense to you. 

"Could be your battery. Your spark plugs. Hell, might even be your engine. Basically, I'm surprised you made it this far with this thing." You simply nodded and tried not to grimace, and you thought you caught the edge of a smile on his face as he turned back towards the vehicle. The only thing you knew was that this was starting to sound expensive, and like it was going to take awhile. After an hour, you asked him,

"Do you mind if I use your phone again? I just wanna let my local sheriff know about what happened." And Bo seemed to hesitate for a moment before he said,

"You gonna faint again?" And you gave him a soft laugh and a shake of your head. "Alright. But remember, it's probably best not to tell anyone where you are." He said, and you gave him a dutiful nod. You pulled yourself off the stool you'd been sitting on, and went to grab his phone. You dialed the home phone number of your local sheriff, and, after telling him everything, he agreed with Bo.

"He's probably right. We don't know how he found you, but stay where you are and don't tell anyone, alright? We'll find him, don't worry." After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "You sure who you're staying with are good people?" And you were quick to say,

"Yeah, I'm sure. They've been real nice to me." You told him, and it seemed as if the sheriff had something else he wanted to say, but decided against it.

"Alright, darlin'. Stay put and stay safe, y'hear? Call back at the end of the week for an update." And you agreed before wishing him goodbye. When you plopped yourself back onto the stool Bo had pulled aside for you, he turned to give you a grin before nodding back at the flashlight. You said a quick, "Oh," And went back to shining it where Bo needed you to. You'd been there for a couple of hours when Lester came by, and you quickly found that that's what the pair of you had been waiting for.

The three of you went back up to the house, ready to start your first lesson. You went upstairs to grab your folder for the first class, finding that Bo had disappeared into one of the rooms. When he returned, he wasn't alone. You set up at the table besides the kitchen, and Bo and Lester took the seats across from you. Leaving Vincent to take the seat besides you. He seemed hesitant, but sat down nonetheless. Finally, you opened your folder to begin.

[btxtreads]

run away | extra

RUN AWAY: EXTRA

It is so much easier to get people to hate something than to believe. Part of the Grimoire Series

➴ Pairing: Choi Soobin x Reader ➴ Rating: R-16 ➴ Word Count: 2.7k ➴ Genre: Twisted Fairytales, Yandere, Smut ➴ Trigger Warning: Graphic murder, Y/N AND SOOBIN ARE DOING THE DIDDLY DO 😭😭😭, Kai is very babie but will also kill u, Taehyun is just bored, Y/N is psychotic part 4

man idk it was just stuck in the brain rip. not much romance in this part other than some kisses and a very detailed :)))) smut scene between Y/N and Soobin, but this is only in Sungho’s POV. Mostly focused on Kai and Tae rather than Soobin and Y/N whoops. Kinda badly written i just wanted to write murder im sorry.

Sungho never thought he’d see the day where he’d sit on a log on the floor on front of a campfire—eyes locked onto his older sister as she walked around in a beautiful pink dress with a smile on her face. But, here he was.

He sighed, spoon digging into the bowl in his hands silently as he chewed on his food. It was in this moment when a boy sat next to him.

“Hey, I’m Hangyeol. I wasn’t able to introduce myself to you last night!” The cheery boy grinned as he waved over to the king. “I’m kind of the oldest kid here right now.”

“Hi,” the king introduced himself softly with a nod. “I’m Sungho. I’m Y/N’s little brother.”

At this, Hangyeol laughed and shook his head.

“No, you’re not.”

Sungho furrowed his eyebrows as he set his bowl down, tilting his head at the boy.

“Yes, I am?”

“Where did you sleep last night?”

Sungho blinked, wondering why the question was important. Immediately, his eyes flew over to the direction of the Lost Boy camp—remembering the hammock he slept in the night before, and where he’ll sleep again tonight.

“Hammocks? Yeah, you’re not her brother.” Hangyeol snorted, patting Sungho’s back. “it’s okay, though! We’re lost boys, Soobin and Y/N-ie is there not to take care of us, but to lead us to our best selves—our free selves.”

“Wait, wait,” Sungho shook his head, turning to the older boy. “What does the hammocks have to do with whether I’m Y/N’s brother or not?”

Before Hangyeol can reply, a boy with wide eyes and a bright grin plopped down next to them. He wore a thin white shirt that was almost loose on his frame, his blonde hair tousled as if he was somewhere windy—perfect, clean and completely different from the lost boys who almost seemed as if they wore rags.

“Oh, hi Tae.” Hangyeol greeted. “Where were you?”

“I had a race with Kai.” the boy, Tae, snorted as he raised a cup to his lips. “As usual, I was faster.”

“No, you weren’t!” came a loud voice.

Sungho jumped as another body plopped down next to Tae. This time, it was a tall boy with dark brown hair and chubby cheeks. His lips were in a small pout as he clutched a chicken leg in his hands. He wore a fluffy blue sweater that was perfectly clean and spotless—which was also a stark difference from the lost boys’ dirty, patched, dark-colored clothes.

“If I didn’t trip over that rock you put in the middle of the field, I would have won.”

“This is Taehyun and Kai,” Hyangyeol introduced. “Guys, this is Sungho. I’ll leave you guys be.”

As the older left, Taehyun’s gaze flew over to the boy with raised eyebrows, eyes raking him up and down apprehensively.

“So, you’re Sungho?” Taehyun asked slowly, as Hueningkai tilted his head.

“Ah, we were told this morning you were here.” Kai nodded.

Sungho furrowed his eyebrows.

“I didn’t see you two yesterday at the hammocks, though.” Sungho explained, making Taehyun laugh.

“Well, we don’t live there.”

Sungho furrowed his eyebrows, but before he can respond, Y/N arrived—hands on both Kai and Taehyun’s shoulders.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Y/N greeted placing a soft kiss on the crown of Hueningkai’s head. “Where have you two been?”

Kai’s eyes sparkled as he turned over to the girl, almost shaking in excitement as he gasped.

“Tae taught me how to fly today!”

“He barely floated.” Taehyun snorted.

Sungho saw his sister’s eyes light up in curiosity as he reached out to the other boy and running her hands affectionately through his hair.

“That’s still progress, Kai. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart!” Y/N cheered before her eyes fell on Taehyun. “Your hair’s not red anymore. You’re blonde.”

“Do you like it?” Taehyun asked, a smile on his face as he gasped excitedly. “Soobin-hyung helped me with it earlier!”

“I love it, you look really good.” Y/N chuckled as she leaned down to fix his hair properly. “My little prince.”

“You two can fly by yourselves?” Sungho gasped in surprise as he regarded the two teens and his sister. “When can I learn how to fly by myself, sis?”

Y/N’s eyes danced with amusement as he turned to Sungho.

“You… want to fly by yourself?” Hueningkai asked, eyes turning confused as he turned to Taehyun. “He’s not allowed to do magic, though?”

Y/N’s lips tilted to a grin as Soobin approached them.

“Did you see my gifts to you two?” Soobin asked the two as he came, ruffling both of their hairs. “I got them earlier.”

“No, we have gifts? Where?” Kai asked.

“I left it on your beds.” Y/N explained.

“Bed?” Sungho asked his sister. “How come they get a bed? I have to sleep in a hammock.”

“Well, they’re my—“

“I’m your little brother!” Sungho complained, making Taehyun turn to him with an irritated sigh.

“No, you’re not.”

Sungho turned over to him with a glare.

“Yes, I am. You aren’t!”

At Sungho’s raised voice, Kai looked shocked. Taehyun only pursed his lips as he gave Sungho a once-over before turning to Y/N with a sigh.

“Kai, Tae,” Y/N said, a forced smile on her lips. “Maybe we should get back to the house, okay?”

“House?” Sungho asked incredulously. “You guys have a house?”

“Sungho,” Y/N sighed as she turned to the young king with an annoyed tone. “Drop it.”

Sungho watched as she whispered to the two boys, who looked at each other with bright smiles before excitedly running towards the forest hand-in-hand. Then, his sister gave him one last annoyed glance before turning her back to him, following the two young boys into the forest. It was only then when Sungho noticed the tall boy—Soobin, Peter Pan, whoever he was—smirk and pat his back.

“In here, you aren’t her brother—that would be Taehyun and Kai. They’re the princes of this island, and we’re the king and queen. Your status means nothing here.” Soobin instructed. “A little tip to help you, since you really don’t want to see her angry: don’t be rude to Taehyun or Kai at all. She doesn’t like that.”

“Who are they?” Sungho asked angrily, turning to his sister’s husband. “I’m her brother—I’m her only brother! Me and Junseo!”

Soobin tilted his head, mirth in his eyes as he stood up, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Not anymore.”

Before he can reply, Soobin flicked his wrist and the campfire died suddenly. The tall boy turned back to the lost boys, calling out.

“Go to your hammocks. Call it a night.”

Sungho frowned as Soobin patted his shoulder.

“Get some rest.”

The young king glared at the tall boy’s back as he walked in the direction where his sister and the two boys disappeared.

That same night, Sungho found himself walking the path where his sister, Soobin and the two boys went to. He couldn’t believe his eyes when the muddy path he was walking turned into concrete, beautiful patterns etched onto the path and lights draped on the trees leading up to a gigantic white house.

The area in front was littered with purple and pink pansies, and he can see the door into the house slightly ajar. Sungho made his way in, mouth dropping open at the marble steps leading up to the many levels above. To his left, he can see a big kitchen area—fruits and pastries set in a basket, plates and utensils neatly stacked in a shelf.

Sungho made his way up, furrowing his eyebrows at the portrait hung at the top of the stairs. It was a portrait of his sister and Soobin, with the two boys from earlier—only Tae had red hair and Kai had longer hair. Sungho frowned as he saw expensive looking decor on the table in front of it.

He made his way down the hallway, fingers brushing books from shelves lining the corridors. he finally ended up in front of a door that’s slightly open. 

He peeked in to see Y/N’s shaking figure on the bed, supporting herself on her hands and knees as Soobin’s tall figure loomed over her, a hand covering her breast and the other pulling on her hair. His head was head buried on her neck as his hips moved against hers, the headboard slamming against the wall rapidly as Y/N cries started to get louder and louder—sobs falling from her lips.

“Soobin, keep going, fuck.” Y/N groaned. “Fucking ruin me, please. God.”

Soobin suddenly stopped his thrusts and lifted his head from Y/N’s neck, smirking as he turned his head over to the door with raised eyebrows. Y/N whimpered as she clutched the sheets underneath her tighter, pleading falling out of her mouth as she begged Soobin to continue.

Sungho gasped silently as he pressed his back against the wall next to the door—hiding himself out of plain view. Sweat pooled on his forehead as he waited. He was expecting Soobin to call him out for walking into their house without permission and walking in while the elder was being intimate with his sister.

However, he only heard soft shuffles as Soobin’s husky voice spoke up.

“Get on top of me, princess.”

Sungho almost gagged when he heard his sister whimper once more just a few seconds later, the bed’s headboard hitting the wall again. At this, Sungho declared himself in the clear and padded back down the stairs—going towards another hallway opposite the kitchen.

He saw another door, silently pushing it open to see two large beds and two forms sleeping peacefully on them.

On one bed was a sleeping figure—Tae, the blonde he met earlier. The one his sister called “little prince.” On the desk next to the boy was a thick novel and a half-eaten bar of milk chocolate. There was also a box of twin daggers with patterned hilts made of gold and silver, a note reading “from Binnie and Y/N-ie” stuck to the package.

With a frown on his face, Sungho’s eyes trailed over to the other sleeping boy in the other bed. This time, it was the other boy—Kai. The boy wore a loose white shirt, hands clutching a soft pillow tightly in his arms.The boy’s table laid a beautiful crossbow with patterns engraved on the wood—a tag still tied to the item with a ribbon, reading “from Binnie and Y/N-ie” on it.

Sungho scoffed as he turned back to the giant door connected to the room—entering a big room full of a variety of clothes and shoes, even more than what he had at home—and he was a king. The items were designed with various different styles and colors, the room divided into sections labelled “Tyunie” and “Ningie.” Sungho made his way further into the room, finding his way onto a big shelf of weapons—knives, arrows, swords, and axes. Sungho frowned, his hands closing in on a dagger—beautifully made with a wooden hilt, engraved with “Kai” on the blade.  He pulled it out of the container, feet making his way back to the two boys sleeping on the beds.

Sungho padded his way over to Taehyun—the little prince and held the dagger over the blonde’s chest. The king pursed his lips angrily, glaring at the young boy’s peaceful face.

Him and this other kid, Kai—they’re the reason why his sister would barely acknowledge him now. “Little princes”—they’re frauds with no title. They aren’t princes at all. Yet his sister, who he hasn’t seen in two years, still chose these strangers over him. It was ridiculous. They had to go.

With red in his gaze, Sungho lifted his hands up—clutch tight on the dagger as he prepared to stab the blonde. However, his eyes flicked over to the blonde boy’s face at the last minute, shocked to see his amused eyes set on him.

Sungho gasped, body stumbling back as he dropped the dagger. Taehyun only reached his hand out, hands catching the dagger and flipping it in his hands expertly.

“What are you doing?” an angry voice asked, making him turn to see Kai sitting up on his bed—sharp eyes trained on Sungho’s form on the floor. “Why do you have my dagger? You’re going to hurt Tae, aren’t you?”

Sungho opened his mouth to try to explain, but nothing came out due to nervousness as Kai pushed his blanket off of him and pulled himself out of bed.

“You were, were you?” Kai asked. “You’re so ungrateful. Y/N and Soobin brought you here to be free, to never grow up—but you try to destroy our family?”

“I-I’m her real brother.” Sungho managed to respod under Kai’s angry glare. “You’re nothing to her—you’re not bound by blood.”

“How stupid of you to say that, especially in our house.” Taehyun drawled lazily, sitting up and propping his head in his palm. “We’re her brothers.”

“And you tried to hurt Tae, my best friend, my brother.” Kai said angrily. “I can’t forgive that.”

Immediately, Sungho felt his body freeze—his limbs stuck in place and he couldn’t move. Tae only flipped the dagger in his hands, nonchalantly hilding it up and offering the hilt to Hueningkai, who snatched the dagger from his hands.

“Can you do it?” Tae asked lazily, yawning—as if waiting for it to finish so he can collapse back to bed.

“I can.” Hueningkai said angrily.

“Then do it.”

Hueningkai didn’t answer or move, only glowering at Sungho.

Sungho didn’t know what to do, or what they were talking about exactly. However, Hueningkai’s grip on the dagger made him nervous. He didn’t know what to plead for.

“I don’t tolerate people trying to hurt my family.” Hueningkai said gruffly. “They’re the only thing that matters.”

The door opened, showing Y/N decked in a loose white shirt and a shirtless Soobin entering with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, what’s happening?” Soobin asked, hands encircling Y/N’s waist, chin resting on her shoulder as he allowed his amused eyes to fall onto Sungho. “You’re still here?”

“He’s about to go.” Hueningkai said angrily before his hands lifted up, swiping a clean, deep line on Sunghoon’s neck.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened as he choked on blood, eyes darting over to Taehyun who yawned and climbed out of his bed—whining about bloodstains on his sheets. Kai only scoffed, setting the dagger on his bedside table, padding over to Y/N’s open arms. Y/N and Soobin had proud smiles on their faces as Hueningkai grinned at them.

“Did you know he was going to come?”

“No, but I knew he came here,” Soobin snorted. “I knew you could handle it.”

“I’ll make some food, then, since we’re all awake. Tae, Kai, can you guys boil some water?” Y/N hummed, pulling the door open as Taehyun and Kai left the room to do as they were told—followed by Soobin who kissed Y/N’s neck happily before he left. “I’ll be right out.”

Sungho laid on the floor, choking and dying slowly as Y/N walked over to him.

“Well,” Y/N sighed, tracing the slit on his throat. “this is interesting. I thought you’d last longer.”

Sungho tried his hardest to reply, but his vision was turning dark.

“You should’ve known your entitled attitude won’t pass here, you’re not the prince here—Soobin already told you it’s Kai and Tae’s turf here. Still, you didn’t listen.” Y/N shrugged. “So, I guess you got just what was coming for you.”

Y/N stood back up, waving her hand and Sungho found himself on Taehyun’s bed.

“There’s the bed you were so desperate for. Try to die faster, though. Taehyun gets cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep.” Y/N snorted as she checked the clock. “We still have to clean the bed up after you die. Thank God for magic, I guess.”

Tears pooled in his eyes as Sungho felt his body start to fail on him.

“Thanks for helping us train Kai. He was so scared to kill people back then, but he did it so easily now. I’m really proud of him. ” Y/N said with a lilting tone, a smirk in her face as she turned and closed the door. “Sweet dreams, Sungho. I have to go to my husband and my brothers.”

Sungho closed his eyes, and the king was no more.

[ariddletobesolved]

What about 98 for Helsa prompt?

Prompt: 98. Disagreeing with them, but being able to do so respectfully, from this.

Pairing: Elsa x Hans

Inspired by AU-gust prompt day 14: Chefs. In this ficlet, however, Hans is a chocolatier and Elsa is a wedding planner.

—

"Dark chocolate should be the perfect finishing touch."

Upon her boyfriend's statement, Elsa raised an eyebrow, resting her elbows against the cold table top. "But it's bitter."

"It's chocolate, Elsa, it's supposed to taste bitter," he stated calmly, "I'm the chocolatier between the two of us, so you can trust me."

Hans went back to the chocolate cake sitting on the table, waiting to be decorated. He then began to do the preparation before he could temper the chocolate, as if he was oblivious to the look of disapproval on his girlfriend's face.

Sure, Elsa trusted him when it came to that matter. Heck, he was the one working behind that cold stone table inside his very own atelier, where he worked on his wonderful creations in the shape of chocolate. But that wasn't the problem.

"Hans, I don't think sticking to dark chocolate only would make it work. Maybe try to balance it out by adding some milk?" She tried to reason with him. "I'm open to ideas but maybe that's not exactly what Anna's wedding needs."

Hans looked as if he was thinking, before he shrugged. "Well, here's the thing, the cake is already sweet, like you said we do need to balance it out. It's just the decorations, Elsa, it won't be dominating the flavour."

Elsa hummed, still not liking the idea of having an all dark chocolate decorations, having a doubt that Anna would like it as much even though her sister wanted them to surprise her with some options for the wedding cake—and it has to be anything with chocolate of all kinds, as she quoted. Besides, Hans is an outstanding chocolatier, surely he should have better ideas, like that box of liquor chocolate he made for her on their first date, perhaps? Her eyes widened with wonder as an idea struck her.

"Wait," Elsa beamed, looking up to him. "Do you know what goes well with dark chocolate? Whisky." Her brows wiggle playfully.

As the new idea began to sink in, Hans grinned, "Wow, Elsa, that," he emphasised, "is a brilliant option. Do you think Anna would like it?"

"Oh, she'll love it!" Elsa nodded. "We can add it into the special list."

"Sure!" He smiled, taking a few notes on his pad, as Elsa made pulled away from the table and walked towards him. "I'll try to experiment with the flavours for a bit, then we can eventually decide the final product. Does it sound okay, Miss Wedding Planner?" When he looked up from his notes, the blonde was already standing before him.

Nodding, Elsa bit her lower lip. "Mhmm, it does. Now unfortunately I can't stay and watch you work, since I have an appointment with the florist," she said, reaching out to fix his collar.

"Too bad, I was hoping you'd be the first one to sample the menu." His voice was dripping with faux disappointment, before he smirked and winked at her. "See you tonight at the tasting, yeah?"

She nodded, before leaning in to kiss him, in which he returned. After bidding him a farewell, she made her way out, not forgetting to grab a small box of freshly made chocolate truffles, her favourite. Shaking her head, she smiled to herself. Her heart warmed at the special gift in her grasp, made exclusively for her, and her cheeks turned crimson as the familiar feeling returned.

Dating a chocolatier does come with its perks.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villainsicle | Part 10

Okay so I know I said I was going to write backstory. But hear me out. I forgot.

On this episode: Will Medic ever make a good choice. Will Villain ever get comfort? Like, ever? Probably not!

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby​

@teachunks

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, conditioned whumpee, drugging, dehumanization, restraints, muzzles, choke chains, collars, pet whump (kinda), conditioning, forced sedation, just an absolutely unhealthy amount of caffeine

Medic watched as Villain calmed.

They sat on a chair, a simple plastic one, near their patient’s bedside as the various scattered monitors reported on the situation. On the left, the heart rate monitor diligently beeped as a nervous, rapid heartbeat turned to one far more steady. On the other side of the room, the breathing monitor reported much of the same-- shallow breaths grew deeper, slower.

The doctor kept their gaze fixed on those displays until their readings were to their liking. Until they were certain that their patient was asleep.

They glanced over to the bed, in the center of the room. Its occupant’s skin was nearly pale enough to blend in with the white sheets on which they lay. Ever so slightly, they twitched in their sleep, struggling unconsciously against the padded restraints securing their wrists to the bed frame. Such a measure was likely unnecessary, but it meant that Medic had one less concern. Their already-weakened patient wouldn’t be going anywhere, not anytime soon.

With a sigh, they braced their hands against their thighs and stood.

They hadn’t been especially concerned about Villain’s escape in the first place. The captive had learnt their lesson from their earlier escape attempts, certainly, and their weakened, nervous state didn’t hurt. Besides, the base was built as a maze. Any escape attempt wouldn’t go very far.

This wasn’t about that, though.

Medic took one last glance at the monitors before pushing open the steel door to the room, not so much as bothering to lock it. It was late--far past midnight, at this point. Far past the hour at which the others retired to their quarters. The only other waking souls in the building would be the few scattered guards, and perhaps Leader, pacing in their office.

That wouldn’t be a problem, though.

Ensuring that their footsteps stayed quiet, Medic moved through the labyrinthine halls. They passed their quarters, and Leader’s office, moving further and further into the base’s core. They did not stop until turning down a barren hallway, at which point they at last halted, before a door marked with little more than a simple plate.

“Lab,” it was labelled.

It had been too long since they’d been able to visit. In the early days of the resistance, it was where they had spent nearly every last second of their time. Now, there were far too many injuries to treat. Far too many reports to make. They hardly had time to sleep, much less time to return to their old stomping ground.

Medic slid a key into the lock, and entered.

The room was barren. Other than the thin layer of dust that seemed to coat every surface, it was immaculately clean. Every last device had been put away, secured in the various meticulously labelled cupboards. The only object remaining on the tables was a computer-- a simple laptop.

The only thing Medic had taken with them.

They sat at a chair before the computer, prying it open. Some of the dust had even managed to sip in beneath the device’s lid, coating the screen and keyboard. A quick swipe of the hand sent it, flying off into the air.

The laptop groaned for a moment, fighting to start up. When, at last, it did so, a familiar screensaver illuminated Medic’s face.

“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.”

It was almost nostalgic.

They entered their password, smiling as the desktop appeared before them, scattered with folders and files and memos. Selecting the right one was almost muscle memory.

Again, the computer whirred, struggling to remember the contents of the old file. After a few seconds of waiting, at last, the video sprung onto the screen.

Medic had no concern about Villain’s escape. No, they knew such a thing was impossible. This was why they had waited for them to fall asleep. So they wouldn’t see this.

It was going to be a long night, they knew that. The black coffee they had drank would ensure Medic would be awake for all of it-- the Secobarbital they had mixed in Villain’s food would ensure the exact opposite.

The video was old, its file having been passed between far too many computers and flashdrives. The quality was starting to fray around the edges.

Medic couldn’t care less.

They pressed play, and after a moment of digital whining, the first video began.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Counselor looked up as, with a thud, a cup was placed on the table in front of them. The smell of coffee overwhelmed their senses a moment later.

“It’s decaf.” Hero’s voice came. “You look like you could use the sleep.”

“Thank you.” Counselor smiled, picking up the still-scorching coffee and taking a sip, even as it threatened to burn their tongue. It was black, without a hint of sugar or milk-- not the way they usually took it, but right now, they could hardly care less.

Hero sat down across the table from them, a can of Sprite in hand, in place of his own coffee. Sweat glued their bangs to their forehead.

“You okay?” They raised a brow at Counselor.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” They tried at another smile, though this one came off far weaker. “Where have you been? I’ve hardly seen you.”

“Leader’s had me off on missions. Four in a row. I’d be lying if I said I’m not tired, too.”

“You just got back from one?” Counselor guessed, raising a brow.

“How did you know?”

“You look like you just ran a marathon.”

“Oh.” Hero laughed. “Yeah... I guess. What, uh, what are you up to? Leader said you’ve been sitting here for like, three hours.”

“You talked to them?”

“Yeah? Is... there something up with that?”

Counselor shook their head.

“No. I’m just- I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Maybe, then... It’s time to put the folders down and get some rest.”

Hero’s gaze turned to the manila yellow folders spread out in front of Counselor-- some marked with coffee stains on the edges.

“What’s in those, anyways?”

“Uh..” Counselor flipped through the folders; closing some, sliding them about, shifting papers between them, before finally flipping one of the folders around so that it faced Hero. “It’s about Villain.”

With those words, they flushed. They’d hardly been able to think about anything else but their captive, recently, and they had to admit that it was verging on becoming an obsession.

Hero pulled the folder closer, opening it and examining the papers within. There were hardly any. Most consisted of printed-out screenshots of security camera footage, or transcripts of radio communications, or emails.

“Leader isn’t really the record-keeping type.” Counselor began. “I think you know that. We have some stuff, though. Most of it is just kinda random, stuff we used once and then shoved in a box somewhere. This is all the records I’ve been able to find, about them. About Villain. We’ve only seen them a couple times, though... There’s not all too much to go off of.”

Hero furrowed their brow.

“Have you been able to find anything in these? I don’t, I mean I don’t want to be rude, but-- Counselor, these kind of all look like crap. There’s nothing here,”

Counselor flushed again, chuckling under their breath.

“I know. That’s the thing.” They dragged the folder back towards themself, flipping it back around. “I know we don’t really keep records, but, I thought there’d be something to go off of.”

“Is there something you’re... looking for?”

“I guess.” They closed the folder, putting it atop the rest of the manila files. “I mean, what do we know about them? Really. That’s not a rhetorical question.”

“Uhh...” Hero looked as though a light bulb had gone off above their head. “You have a good point. I mean... their name is Villain. They control technology. Uhh, they had people with them? Sometimes? Like, two of them.”

“And that’s it.” Counselor sighed. “We don’t know where they came from. We don’t know who they work for.”

“Do you...” Hero lowered their voice. “Do you think they work for Supervillain?”

“I guess it’s possible.” They dipped their head. “That’s the problem. We have no way of knowing. We don’t really know anything about them. I don’t... I don’t know how I’m supposed to help them. If I don’t know anything about them.”

“Help them?”

Counselor shook their head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I- Help them with what?”

Counselor bit the inside of their cheek.

“They’re sick. Or something like that. There’s something wrong with them. They collapsed, the other day. Leader has given Medic full medical custody-- permission to do whatever they think is necessary. I want to help but... I don’t know how to help someone who may as well be a ghost.”

They’d expected a sympathetic nod, or some quiet words. They hadn’t expected Hero to push their chair back from the table.

“Well,” Hero began, “Who would know? Where do we start?”

“I-” The words woke Counselor up more than any coffee ever could. “I guess Villain would know. Unless they’re some kind of amnesiac, they’ve got to know their own past, right?”

“Right.”

“And then... Leader? Maybe? They seem to act so weird around Villain. Maybe they know something we don’t?”

“Makes sense to me. How about I talk to Leader, and you talk to Villain?”

“Well,” Counselor widened their eyes, averting their gaze, “I don’t know if Villain... I don’t know if they trust me. I don’t think they do. I can try, but...”

“Well, you won’t gain their trust by sitting here.” Hero raised a brow. “I’ll talk to Leader. You earn Villain’s trust. Okay?”

“Okay, uh, okay!”

The two stood at the same time. Counselor turned to leave, ignoring their coffee, but was stopped by Hero’s words:

“We’ll go do that, after you get some sleep.”

By the way they spoke it, Counselor knew that the demand was nonnegotiable.

“Fine.” They sighed. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. Sleep well, Counselor.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The video began.

Medic couldn’t say they recognized the person the screen depicted-- they had probably seen them before, once or twice, but their name eluded them.

They stood, straight-backed and grinning, in a room made of white tile on floor, walls, and ceiling. Their attire was confident-- they wore no armor or guards of any kind.

The only equipment they had was a leash.

The strip of leather attached to a collar-- one made of metal links, chained together, with inwards-facing spikes around the whole circumference. The choke chain was looped around the neck of a far less confident looking person, their jaw gritted against a muzzle and their eyes practically blazing with raging flame. The fact that their arms were tightly bound behind their back did not stop their attempts at struggling-- they yanked and growled against their bindings, despite wincing every time the spikes of the collar tore at their flesh.

“Hello.” The presenter smiled, as if they didn’t notice the grappling of their captive. Medic’s Latin skills were somewhat rusty, but they could still understand the speech, for the most part. “And welcome. If you’re watching this, then you have very likely found yourself assigned as a new handler for our Assets program.

Now, I understand that there has been considerable confusion regarding this program.”

The prisoner attempted to trip the presenter. A quick tug on the sharpened collar around their neck quickly stopped the attempt. Throughout, the presenter did not so much as break eye contact with the camera.

“The Asset program is a new endeavor. So far, we have had considerable success with various test cases. As such, Supervillain has advised that we expand our efforts.

As you are probably aware, the process of creating an Enhanced person is very complicated, and does not always work as planned. Unfortunately, not all those who go through the program end up being entirely themselves, or entirely loyal to Organization. Before, this was not a problem. However, now that we have lost the capability of creating new Enhanced, at least for the time being, we must work with what we have.”

With the hand that did not hold the leash, the presenter grabbed directly at their captive’s collar-- on the outside, where there were no spikes. They dragged them closer by their neck, until they were looking at the camera. The prisoner whined in pain against their muzzle, clearly struggling to breathe.

“Some of these Enhanced turn to our side easily, with enough incentive. Others, unfortunately, are far more stubborn. They are the focus of the Asset program.

Through the program, these unusable prisoners can be turned into valuable soldiers. Several victories have already been attributed to them.

I understand that this likely seems like quite the daunting task. But, in all truth, an Asset can be trained as easily as any dog. Through this video series, I will demonstrate how this can be done.”

With a smile, the presenter moved towards the camera.

“I’ll talk to you again in the next video. Bye!”

The video froze, and after a moment of whirring, another video appeared in its place. Medic clicked play.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 5

First

Previous

Next

Pretending to be perfect would be so much easier if she was actually perfect.

Now, Ladybug absolutely knew that she didn’t need to pretend anymore. In fact, there was no way in hell that she would be able to keep up the act…

And so she’d told herself that this was fine, that she was okay with the fact that she was going to be incorporating her life as ‘Ladybug’ more into her actual life.

She’d tried. She really had. She’d worn her normal clothes for the first few days while she was unpacking…

And then she’d sat down next to Carapace on that couch to talk to him like normal humans do… only to find herself falling right back into her persona the moment she’d laid eyes on him. She’d pulled her ‘scared civilian smile’ to her face and lied about her progress on her room for seemingly no reason.

That night she went to the store to buy herself red and black dresses to match her usual Ladybug aesthetic.

They’d believe that she was just wearing the casual clothes as temps while she was settling in, probably, it wouldn’t take much to convince them that she actually acted like Ladybug at all times.

Now, she knew that this would only work for a limited amount of time. No one could be perfect forever, and the resident human disaster would have an even harder time keeping up the charade…

But she could keep it up for a while, and ‘a while’ was all she needed.

After all, she suddenly had a proper motivation to find out who Hawkmoth was (she hadn’t really cared before, things were always fixed at the end so she wasn’t all that concerned about it), and Ladybug was never one to do things half-ass.

She had to change everything about herself, though, because she couldn’t concentrate on Hawkmoth if she was constantly worrying about maintaining her facade.

She considered ‘Ladybug’s’ general traits and how to convince everyone of it:

Probably a narc, has her life together, perfect…

Yeah, that would probably be enough for now.

She started by learning the law. She found some cheap copies of law textbooks online.

(And promptly found out by reading them that many of the sites she’d used to buy them were technically illegal. She wrote out an apology in Google to the DGSI agent that might be watching her computer. Did they care? Probably not, but she figured there was no harm in being safe.)

Next was getting her life together…

Difficult, but she figured she’d be able to do it. People did it all the time, right?

… not right.

She stared at the article she found on getting your life together in a few simple steps. She was not at all fond of being called out for all her bad habits and coping mechanisms so bluntly...

Still, it was worth a shot.

She searched through her boxes and pulled out a whiteboard. She pushed a couple pictures of her civilian friends off of it, there were more important things to be doing (also the whole ‘secret identities’ thing…), and started making a schedule for herself.

Ladybug blocked out time for work, working out, and cooking/eating healthy food. It left… very little time to find Hawkmoth…

Unless…

Coffee! The ultimate ‘I have my life together’ drink AND it added a few hours to her day! It was perfect!

Speaking of perfect, she was now going to have to be perfect pretty much all day.

She wouldn’t get a break as a civilian because she worked with models and fashion designers and kwami knows that even perfect isn’t enough for them most of the time.

Even her room wasn’t safe, Chat had proved that by walking in and watching her faceplant (it was a good thing he was stupid or else that might have actually ended up being a problem).

No, the only times she could be herself was when she was 1) texting her civilian friends or 2) walking to and from work.

She was beginning to think this was a lot more trouble than it was worth…

Whatever. She was doing it anyways. Nothing, not even logic, was going to stop her from maintaining her ‘Ladybug’ persona.

~

She nearly dropped her coffee (which was mostly sugar and milk, let’s be honest) when she heard a knock on her trapdoor.

“Come in!” She said, pulling an earbud out of her ear.

Chloe poked her head through. “The akuma can fly.”

Ladybug fought the urge to groan. She looked down at the empty page in her sketchbook. Gabriel Agreste, the bastard, wanted a design by the next day and he didn’t grant extensions for akumas.

But she supposed saving Paris was slightly more important than her work --.

Wait, if she didn’t save Paris then she wouldn’t have to turn in her assignment…

She saw Tikki giving her a disapproving look, no doubt aware of where her thoughts were currently heading, and rolled her eyes.

She took out her other earbud and got up. “Alright. Tikki, spots on. Is it really a two person job?”

“Master Fu says so.”

“And Chloe says…?”

“Chlo -- I say that it’s a man made of sand. Guess how hard it’ll be.”

“Mr. Sandman, man me a sand…” mumbled Ladybug absently.

Chloe frowned a little bit. “Did you say something?”

She blinked a few times and then smiled. “Just that Master Fu needs to relax a bit more. We’re very obviously overcompensating.”

“True.”

Ladybug pushed open the attic window and they both flew out into the night --.

Wait, night? Wow, it was a lot later than she thought it was. She was soooo screwed on this deadline.

But there were bigger problems: there was a guy floating around on a pillow.

“The Sandboy just checked in! Now nightmares can begin!”

She rolled her eyes under her mask and looked at Chloe. “What does he do?”

“Creates nightmares. Obviously.”

They came to a stop a few buildings away and watched as sand slowly sprinkled down from the pillow that Sandboy was currently riding. The houses that he passed over erupted with screams.

Wow, the sand was really pretty, actually. Ladybug took note of the colors and the way it shone in the night. Maybe she could model the dress after it… she could do those colors, a bit of glitter…

Chloe nudged her shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, just thinking about what to do…” … for her assignment, but Chloe didn’t need to know that.

“Got any ideas?”

She forced herself to focus on Sandboy. “His cloud is shaped like a pillow, that’s probably the akuma. It also looks like the glitt -- sand -- the SAND is what causes the nightmares, so we should avoid that.”

Chloe nodded a little bit. “Obviously. What should we do?”

“Knock him off.”

“You’re so smart, I wonder how I’d never thought of that,” she said sarcastically.

“You ASKED me what we should do! I answered --!”

“Hello, ladies!” Said Sandboy as he came around the side of the roof.

Chloe scoffed. “Go back to saying your lame rhyme, will you? We’re in the middle of something!”

Sandboy frowned, his expression a combination of shocked and offended. His voice was much higher when he spoke next: “You think my rhyme is lame?”

“Yes.”

Sandboy looked at Ladybug for confirmation, and Ladybug just shrugged and nodded.

“Ouch,” said Sandboy. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again he’d deepened his voice: “We’ll see how lame you think I am when you’re fighting your worst nightmare!”

Ladybug and Chloe immediately jumped away, because usually people say that when they’re about to attack, and the sand nailed the roof right where they’d just been.

The two women met eyes briefly and an understanding passed between them.

“Still lame!” Taunted Chloe.

Sandboy gasped indignantly and floated after her. Chloe smiled and started flying away.

“I mean, honestly, who thought of that? What’re you ‘checking in’ to? Work?”

Sand barely missed Chloe and she took out her spinning top to get away faster.

A piece of sand hit her spinning top. Ladybug and Chloe gave pause. Would that count? Well, it didn’t matter, at least. The solution would be the same: keep running.

Chloe must have come to the same conclusion, because she shook her head and continued…

Except her strides were much slower now.

Ah. So it did matter.

Chloe whimpered a little bit.

Ladybug winced. Great. So it had taken away her powers, probably, or at least her speed. She needed to wrap this up…

She forced herself to fly faster and she launched herself at Sandboy’s back. He happened to glance back and see her, which wasn’t great as he ascended sharply.

Her hands managed to catch the pillow, and she held tight even when she got a facefull of sand.

She felt flames lap at her ankles and a strangled scream escaped her lips. Ladybug didn’t care how she went out for the most part, but it was not going to be through burning to death. She forced herself to not pay attention to the fact that the fire was travelling up and catching on the hem of her dress and it was creeping along her --!

Nope! Not paying attention!

She swung her legs back and forth a few times to wobble the pillow underneath him until he inevitably lost his balance and fell over the side.

That was the good thing.

The bad thing was that the pillow was apparently Sandboy powered and now Sandboy and Ladybug were both plummeting towards the flames far below. Ladybug flapped her currently burning wings and couldn’t help but mumble a curse when she realized that they definitely didn’t work as well when they were on fire.

As it was, she managed to slow her fall and miss the bulk of the flames by inches.

Still hurt like hell when she hit the ground, though.

She rolled around on the concrete streets to smother the flames and didn’t relax until she knew for sure that they were gone.

That done, she allowed herself to relax with a still smoldering pillow. She probably would have rested her head on it if she wasn’t somewhat worried that some leftover sand would touch her face and she’d have to deal with more fire.

Still, it was over… that was nice…

A foot nudged her side. 

She blinked the pain from her eyes and looked up at Chloe…

Chloe pulled the pillow from her weak grip and tore the case.

The akuma fluttered out of the pillow.

Ladybug forced herself to her feet before she was ready.

“Can you hit the akuma or do you need me?”

Chloe scoffed a little, and then paused. She considered for a minute before saying, “Yeah, it’s not like I just faced one of my worst nightmares...”

“Losing your powers is one of your worst -- know what? Doesn’t matter. You can’t even hit it without your powers,” said Ladybug.

Chloe frowned.

Ladybug ignored this. She pulled her yoyo from her waist and tossed it at the butterfly. The akuma gave a pitiful squeak as it was sniped out of the air.

Instantly, her pain melted away. She breathed a sigh of relief. Much better.

She slowly walked over to Sandboy, who was apparently just a kid.

Annoyance flared in her. Hawkmoth was going after kids? This one looked like a toddler!

She forced herself to relax and brought a smile to her face. “Hey, what happened?”

“I watched a scary movie and had a nightmare…” explained the kid.

She nodded a tiny bit and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Would you like one of us to take you home? We can read you a bedtime story and keep the akumas away…”

PleasesaynoIhaveworktodopleasesaynosaynosay --.

“Yes please!” The kid sniffled and wrapped his arms around her.

Noooooooo...

Chloe spoke up after a second’s hesitation, her expression thoughtful: “You were working on something before we left, right, ‘bug?”

Ladybug blinked behind her mask. “Yeah…?” Was Chloe really going to offer to help?

“Ha! Sucks! See you tomorrow!” Chloe smiled and stuck her tongue out at Ladybug, then took off.

Yeah, she should have expected that.

She rolled her eyes and looked back down at the kid. Whatever. She could go read him a story and get him to bed, it shouldn’t take long…

“Where do you live?”

“I don’t know.”

Fuck.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen

[byorder-fanfic]

Finn’s Lost Loves

Summary: Finn’s lost more than anyone else knew because of the war, and every stupid thing his family have done afterwards to keep themselves in charge.

Word count: 2019

Warnings: Mentions war and blood, talks about eating disorder, self harm and self-esteem, and homophobia (only a little bit, period accurate), a lot of toxic masculinity 

Author’s note: This is a lot of angst with little bits of fluff and a sad ending. Sorry. It’s basically an overview of Finn’s character, backstory and his relationships with the family that we’ve never gotten to see! It’s based off a piece of prose in my drafts, so if you guys like this, I might post that as well. Hope you enjoy, and please comment, I love hearing your opinions and any constructive criticism you might have xx

Finn loved books. Once upon a time, he really did. He loved the way Tommy did the voices, and Arthur made those wild motions with his hands, and John could always make him laugh as he told him about that thing that happened in the pub last week. He loved how Ada and Polly would tuck him up in bed, place a kiss on his temple and read the letters from the boys. Then they came back, and he didn’t need to read letters. Or books. Or anything really. Soon, he didn’t even go to school. He just wanted to be with his brothers. Now they tell him to piss off more than they beg him to stay. Tommy and Polly scold him for not being able to read off the betting boards, and John makes everyone else laugh when he holds a big volume under Finn’s nose, so that everyone knew that Finn was still illiterate. Finn hates books.

Finn loved Church. He didn’t need Polly to drag him by the heels as he sobbed under the Virgin Mary’s stare like his brothers when he hopped, skipped and a jumped all his way down the road. He always sat by Isaiah, the two boys out-screaming each other in the hymns and seeing who Polly would scold first. He wore the crucifix everyday, and treated his rosary with all the sacred carefulness a six year old could manage. He loved the psalms and Jeremiah’s voice ringing through the streets and the way everyone was always together (even Charlie) on Sunday. Then he had to light candles, praying for his brothers’ safety that was only answered with their damnation as they dragged back blood and French mud into Watery Lane. Now he cries through the paper thin pages of a Bible and his only prayers are that the boys never see his tears. What did he have to cry about after all? He was never a soldier, but he should learn to be a man. Finn hates Church.

Finn loved healing. Ada dragged him along to her nursing classes and soon his only reason to come to Church was to learn how to tie bandages and fix up cuts and bruises. No one noticed his long absences- they either assumed he went to school still, or they were far too busy with the race tracks to care for the whereabouts of their youngest brother. But then he'd slipped up, and he'd never seen his brothers laugh so hard when he proudly told Polly he was going to be a nurse one day. Even his aunt and sister, usually the ones on his side, had to purse their lips together as Arthur roared out: "Hear that, Tom? We got ourselves a Nurse Shelby here! Want a dress and hat to go with it?" He told them all to fuck off and stamped out, but he didn't understand what he said that was so funny. When he asked Isaiah, who had just turned fourteen and starting to see Finn less and less, he just said that being a nurse was a woman's job. He didn't like being laughed at for being a girl, but he didn't know why. He still hoarded textbooks about anatomy and the like under his bed, tracing over the detailed pictures with his skeleton finger as he wished. And wished. And wished. And almost prayed that he could read the little ink words. When he found Arthur with another red line on his neck, he offered him some medicine to cure his big brother's blues, thinking just a bit of Tokyo would keep his brother here with him. No one asked why Finn was sad. Oh well, at least he could protect his brothers now. Finn hates healing. Finn loved food. Always the big eater in the Shelby household, he managed to always have a full stomach despite the poverty that reigned. He was a stickler for sweets, though, and as soon as he mastered the art of sneaking rings and wallets from unsuspecting strangers, he soon graduated to thieving lollipops and boiled sweets and even some toffees that he proudly deposited into his aunt's hand with a toothy grin. But the boys would look into his empty plate and his skinny frame and tell him he'd better watch out, soon he might actually have a shape under those bulky clothes. They always laughed, and he felt himself completely embarrassed at the dinner table. He dumped more sugar than milk into his tea and stole chips when they went to the seaside. He'd always offer to share, wanting to provide for them for once, but they'd tell him he was the one who needed it. He sees his ribs and the little vertebrae of his spine and wonders why can't he just be strong like his brothers. Even though he despises it, he picks up boxing to fill out his form. Maybe training with Isaiah was an extra benefit, but the older boy had long since talked to Finn on the regular, and made a point to laugh at him when he fell onto the floor. So, Finn graduated from second helpings of lunch and too-sweet tea to the sour delights of whiskey and cigarettes. Just like his brothers. Finn hates food. Finn loves his family. He loves Polly, the mother he never had, and will never feel like he does enough to repay her for his entire childhood. Then Michael came back, and soon there wasn't any chore lists on the downstairs table for someone to read out for him, or little check ups throughout the day as she makes sure he's okay. That was when he realised exactly why Polly raised him in her empty arms. He loves Arthur: his eldest brother, who used to lift him up on his shoulders and teach him to draw. Finn still has faded old pictures of galloping stallions (signed in block letters: A.W.S) slipped between the filled out pages of the sketchbooks he hides in his wardrobe. Then Arthur came back, with what everyone calls Flanders Blues, but no one explains, and Finn feels like he's losing his brother everyday when he comes back smelling like a brewery with blood on his fists. Finn loves Tommy. A father figure to him, the kind of man he wants to be when he grows up. But then Greta died and Tommy went to war, and the man who took him horse riding every weekend was gone, and this Tommy was colder. Finn loves John as the best friend he's ever had, always laughing together, giving sometimes useful advice and finding days to just spend time with each other. Despite John's bazillion kids, widowerhood, and then his new wife, he's always had time to spare for his little brother. John was the one who told him what bisexual was when he found Finn sobbing in his room, he was the one that took him to the doctor when he passed out from malnutrition, and he's the one that made him swear to never use razor blades on himself again. Finn loves Ada. He sees why Freddie calls her an angel, and used to love it when she pretended to take Finn to the library when in fact they were both slipping away to a Communist meeting, which would usually end up in Ada and Freddie slipping away and leaving Finn in the trusted supervision of leftist radicals that he happily chatted away to. Ada always took care of him, making sure he was never involved in the business (on either side) and telling him that being a soldier is a life sentence, not an honour. He lives because Ada keeps him safe and sane. Then Ada leaves. Finn hates the Shelby name that everyone screams at him like a condemnation, that invites slurs and hatred that only he gets because he doesn't look like a proper Shelby man. Finn hates his family. Finn loved Isaiah. A childhood crush that brought butterflies to his stomach and blushes to his freckled face. He sketched the boy's face so many times, he knew it by memory. They held hands when they were chased down the streets, laughing and sprinting as their spoils stayed securely in their pockets. But Isaiah was older than him. Soon after adolescence hit the Jesus boy and Peaky Blinders offered him a role, without the constant of Church, the two greatest of friends became almost strangers to one another. But Finn still loved him. He never told anyone, of course. He knew he wasn't a real homosexual, because he most certainly did enjoy holding hands and kissing the cheeks of girls his age (poor boy was flustered to ever do more!) but his heart still belonged to the preacher's boy. With more faithful women in the family than ever before, Finn knew he would be crucified if he ever told anyone. John was the only one who knew, and that was based on the fact he paid more attention to his brother than anyone else combined. He said he should just go for it, but Finn knew Isaiah couldn't be like him. And even if Jeremiah was always the kindest man that Finn ever met, he still didn't trust that the cross on his neck wouldn't shame him or laugh at him for the fact he was completely enamoured with his son. Then Finn got drunk, and when he woke up, his entire family knew exactly how he felt and Isaiah wouldn't look at him in the eye. He ran away to the stables, crying on Uncle Charlie's shoulder who told it would be alright. He made sure to keep an eye on Finn ever since, keeping an eye on his wrists and fists. The incident was soon forgot by everyone but him. Finn couldn't find it in him to hate Isaiah, but he knew he didn't love him any more. Finn has never loved Michael. He thought he could, at first, when he saw the tweed suit and a face more innocent than his. But then Tommy promoted him almost on the spot, and Finn had never at once felt so much rage bubble inside him. Everything he has done for his brothers, every passion he sacrificed, every humiliation he shouldered, just so they could see him as an equal. But no, there are only three Shelby brothers as far as anyone else is concerned, and Finn carries on as errand boy. He ignores all Ada's good advice, and swear that he will make his brothers proud of him one day. So, he puts on the thorn crown of a Peaky cap and wears the waistcoat and wool coat of his brother's likeness, and parades about Small Heath like he actually was apart of the makeshift royal family. Then Finn found Michael and Isaiah kissing in the alleyway. Even though Finn had made a point to announce that his brothers had started giving him more work, Isaiah still fucked off to the pub with Michael every night, devoting his time and attention to only him, and Finn couldn't understand why. Now he did. If Finn had been violent like Arthur, he certainly wouldn't have thought twice about taking the cup on his curls and cutting the smirk off of his cousin. He had stolen his brothers' respect, his surrogate mother's attention, his place in the business, the affections of the one boy Finn had ever loved. He had stolen Finn's everything, and Finn hated him. They both froze and stuttered. Excuses about just being friends, just experimenting, but he saw the way they held each others shaking hands just as he and Isaiah used to hold onto each other as they raced through the streets. "I'm glad you're together." He shocked them both with a forced smile. "You both deserve to be happy." The two were kinder to him after that, almost back to the old friendship he had missed, and Finn knew he didn't hate Michael. Or Isaiah. Or any of his family, really. No, Finn hated himself.

[imagines4thefandoms]

The Man the World Forgot

Part 1

summery: Chris was living the life. He was a famous movie star with all of his films a blockbuster hit. Millions of people around the world knew his name; Chris was the most famous person in the world. But that all changed in a matter of seconds. When Chris wakes up one morning and the world has no idea who he is. Not even his family and close friends. Chris Evans no longer exist, or more exactly he never did. No one remembered him, no one except Scarlet. Scarlet McLaughlin was just a normal college student just trying to make it to graduation. She discovers that she is the one who remembers who Chris Evans is. Together they try and work out why the world doesn’t remember the movie star. Will they be able to fix the movie stars life or will he just stay forgotten in the minds of his loved ones?

word count: 2.2K

Chis Evans’ Saturday night was just a regular Saturday night while away for work: he called Scott to talk to Dodger, went for a quick run before eating in the hotel restaurant. He watched the couple sitting next to him celebrate something and grew a bit jealous. All he wanted in life to find the right person, settle down, and have kids. Chris just never met the right person.

After finishing his meal, the lonely star went back to his room to get ready for his busy day of shooting in the morning. Normally he would at least explore the city a little but he wasn’t in the mood to explore the beautiful Big Easy tonight. Before the elevator doors closed a pair of newly weds game in and were giggling in the corner. Evans tired to hid as to not draw attention to himself but the couple were too entranced with each other to notice that there was someone else in the elevator.

When the now suffocating metal box reached his floor, Chris exited and walked to his room wondering when he would ever have what they had. He kicked his shoes off as soon as his hotel door closed behind him and got ready for bed. Once he got in bed, he decided against watch tv and just let the noise of the city ease him into slumber. But before he could close his eyes, he saw a light streak across the night sky. ‘A shooting star’ he thought. Chris closed his eyes and made a wish.

“I wish I could be normal and find the love of my life,” he whispered before finally going to sleep.

At midnight the sky exploded with light. The entire city of New Orleans went quite for just a second then roared back to life as if being rebooted. Little did the actor know that his innocent wish full of love and hope had come true but has also brought a twist.

Chris woke up to his alarm blaring at six in the morning for his call time at seven thirty. He has awoken with a new cheery disposition than when he went to bed. Chris had a feeling that today was going to be a great day. He was about to call Scott to talk to Dodge and his brother but decided to take a shower first cause he knew he would be on that call for a while.

After his shower, Chris put on simple jeans and a t-shirt then grabbed his wallet and phone to head to set. The bipolar southern weather had subsided and left a nice cool day, causing the actor to decide to walk the few blocks to set. While on his walk Chris noticed that he was actually relaxed. There was no people with cameras following him nor fans stopping him for a picture. He chalked it up to people still being hung over from their night on Bourbon Street. Chris then remembered that he still has to call Scott. He took out his phone and pressed on his brother’s name in his contacts and waited for him to pick up.

“Hello,” Scott answered in a confused tone.

“Hey man, I just called to say good morning to Dodge. Did I wake you,” Chris asked hoping that he didn’t. He sometime forgot that not everyone is on his sleep schedule.

“Who is this,” Scott replied.

Chis laughed thinking that this was one of his brothers pranks or that he had woken his brother up and he was so fresh from sleep that he was confused. “Scott its me. Are you hung over?” Chris asked as he stopped at a cross walk.

“Hi me but I still don’t know who this is. How did you get this number? You can’t just call me to talk to my dog,” Scott said in a slightly irritated tone.

Chris really thought that his brother was milking this prank. Which was fine. “Scott already very funny its Chris. Your brother. Now can I talk to MY dog before I head on set.”

“Look I don’t know who this is but I don’t have a brother. Don’t call here again,” Scott said before hanging up.

Chis looked at his phone after his brother hung up just to make sure he called the right person. He decided against calling him again just to check up on him partly because he wanted to wait til he had a lunch break in hopes that Scott would give up on this prank and partly because he was at his filming location.

He walked up to the security guard and gave him a smile as he walked by, but the guard stopped him. “Name,” the guard asked.

Evans wasn’t use to not being recognized but he chalked it to being protocol. He gave the guard his name and id and waited til he check is clipboard of approved people on set. “Your not on the list,” the guard replied handing back the id.

“There has got to be some mistake,” Chris said slightly annoyed, “Im the lead role.”

“You are not on the list, which means you don’t get in.”

Chris was now more annoyed so he took out his phone and called his agent Charlie to straighten this whole mess out. Once Charlie picked up the phone Chris skipped the pleasantries and just tole him how he’s not being let on set and that he’s about to be late.

“Who is this,” Charlie asked after Chris went on his little rant.

“Charlie, its Chris. Chris Evans.”

“Um i’m not in the office today but if you make an appointment with my assistant we can look into maybe representing you. I don’t know how you got this number but i’m going to give you my assistant’s and you just make an appointment,” Charlie replied in a professional manor.

“Charlie. Im already your client. Did Scott put you up to this,” Chris laughed at the extent of his brother’s prank.

“I know all of my clients and a Chris Evans is not one of them. Im sorry I think you have the wrong number. Have a great weekend,” Charlie replied hanging up the phone.

Chris was starting to really not like this prank. He had to be on set in five minutes, but his anxiety of the whole situation was getting really out of hand so he went for a walk around the city. Then he will be late to set and Charlie will call him back to apologize making the whole prank thing to rest.

Even though the city isn’t at its bullies at seven thirty in the morning Chris couldn’t deny the cozy and exciting atmosphere of it. Once again on his walk Chris was not bothered by fans nor photographers and for a quick second he wondered how extensive was the plank his brother was pulling. He pasted a Café Du Monde and realized that he had planned on eating breakfast on set. This place was on a list of places Anthony had told Chris to visit while he was in New Orleans. These beignets were supposedly the best things ever so Chris took his friends advice and decided to have an order for breakfast.

He sat down at a table outside so he could still enjoy the scenery of the old beautiful city and waited for a waitress to come over. Chris was entranced by some street players when his waitress came over and greeted him a good morning. He looked over and saw a young girl about seventeen in white button-up shirt with black pants, black bowtie, and a long green apron. The actor braced himself for the questions and her starstruck demeanor.

“Are you,” she started to say as she grabbed her notebook out of the apron.

“Chris Evans yes, how are you,” he said expecting her question of a picture and autograph. But it never came instead introduced herself and told him she was asking if he was ready to order.

This took Chris by surprise. Usually you women this this waitress would be hounding him for pictures and autographs and question but she did. He wanted to chalk it up to her being professional but there was a tiny voice inside his head the told him it was something else.

“Sorry um ill take an order of beignets and a café au Lait,” Chris ordered thankful for the pressure from Anthony for him to pronounce every thing he is going to eat in New Orleans correctly so he doesn’t look stupid. The Waitress gave him a nod and a smile before to put in his order.

The waitress came back three minutes later with the coffee and a plate with three beignets. She placed the items on the table and gave him the line of ‘hope you enjoy’ then went back to work. After he took one bite, he realized that Anthony was right about how delicious these things were. Chris was about to text his friend about how much he enjoyed the fried doughy treat but decided against because he knew Mackie was in the west coast for his film and its six am in Hollywood, also he didn’t want to take the chance that Scott had gotten him in on the prank as well.

For the first time in forever Chris Evans wanted to be attacked by paparazzi  and to be swarmed by fans getting too close for comfort. So he did the only think he could think of. Once he finish his breakfast he paid and left a generous tip to the young highs cool student and walked to the place where he knew there would be people at eight in the morning: the Flea Market down the road.

Once he arrived to the Flea Market, he was overwhelmed over the amount of people there. Given that it was eight in the morning on a Saturday it wasn’t weird for this many people to be there, but the sight gave Chris a little bit of anxiety. He was starting to second guess being around so many people in this publish setting just to get recognized.

But once again while he was looking at all the different booths, no one stopped him, no one took his picture, and no one whispered about him behind his back. Chris decided to get Scott something from the flea market in hopes that it would make him fell bad for this prank; Chris had also gotten some souvenirs for the rest of his family while at the flea market as well. Once he was finished with his shopping, the actor headed back to his hotel room. He wanted to get some rest and just wake up from this horrible day.

On his walk back to the hotel, Chris thought that he should enjoy this albeit terrible anonymity he seems to have. He walked a little slower and just took in the sights of the historical buildings he was passing. And while he has heard Anthony complain about the streets being awful in the city he admired the imperfection of the cracks and the potholes, something that natives never have like.

He stoped at Jackson square and enjoyed one street performer groups’ show and looked around at the art work hanging on the fence. Some where simple and others where very detailed but all captured the story of the city that had persevered though many hardships. And after gazing upon what is St. Louis Cathedral, Evans really headed back to his hotel room.

This time the buildings were not the things that caught his attention, but the families that were out exploring the city as he was. One that stuck out in particular was a family with a small girl about the age of five who kept asking her father if they could take a horse ride. She was pointing to the white horse who was standing at the corner to the street waiting for the next people he was going to give a ride too. The father and mother exchanged looked and then agreed which caused the little girl to jump up and down with joy.

The sight made Chris’s heart swell. In that moment he didn’t see that family, he saw the family he hope to have in the future. He saw his littler girl jumping for joy over a horse while him and his wive looked upon her with such adoration. The family disappeared into the horse drawn carriage and Chris’s mind was back on his bed.

Chris was almost at his hotel room when he felt like he was being watched, which on a normal day wasn’t weird but on a day like today it was. He stopped and looked around him to see where this feeling was coming from. That when he noticed someone on the phone across the street staring straight at him. Chris knew that look on her face. Its the face fans get when they see him. This girl knows who he is. She is the only person who does. He knew he had to ask her why.

Part 2

[knightofameris]

hot chai tea — kita shinsuke

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛: neutral 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: reader has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1.3𝚔 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: okay I was trying to not include any notes for these but I had to for this! After writing (well, partially into writing it) this I found that I enjoyed it enough that I wanted to submit it for @agaassi​‘s 4k celebration 🥺 It’s not a cafe AU, but I call it the “cafe au but make it boba” I’ll include a bit more of some notes at the end so uhmmm catch ya in a bit! 

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍: hot chai tea 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 ChaTime  𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔!

⇽ 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 ◜𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚋𝚘𝚋𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚞◞ 

Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. 

First you woke up late, you didn’t even have time to eat, the campus bus left you as you were running towards it which made you late to your last 8AM (with an attendance policy) class of the semester. Then, you realized you brought the wrong notebook for your 8AM class for the review session since finals was next week and you forgot your laptop so you resorted to taking notes on your goddamn phone. Ah, but then your phone died and you forgot to bring a charger and a portable. Because of that, you lost track of time while studying that you were late to work. 

You only made it into work 10 minutes late but it was in the midst of a rush and you messed up the first three orders terribly. So badly that your coworkers and manager just put you in the back to sort some things instead. 

That’s how you found yourself scowling as you carried boxes back and forth, organizing cups and food items in the fridge. This is it, this was your villain origin story. Forced to the back after a shitty day and—

A strict, yet soft, voice called out to you. 

You felt a shiver run down your spine, stopping you in your tracks, and slowly turned towards the voice of your manager. 

Kita Shinsuke.

Honestly, you weren’t usually scared of him. He’s a nice guy, kinda robotic at times, but he has an aura that commandeers respect. He says it like it is, but he cares a lot. Always on time, always working efficiently, always able to handle the Miya twins when needed. 

It’s just that... He’s never had a reason to use that voice on you. 

“Ah, Kita-san, what’s up?” You asked, trying to put on a smile. 

His intense eyes stared straight into yours and you immediately looked away, feeling a bit too vulnerable under his gaze. 

“Is there some reason why you’re not performing like you usually do?” 

Right, Kita was always someone who could do his job no matter what happens. Performing anxiety was nonexistent to him. Or any anxiety for that matter. 

“I, uh,” you debated between telling him a lie but you had a feeling he’d read right through you. Maybe being honest was the better choice here. “Just had a bad day.” 

Kita doesn’t say anything. Instead, choosing to wait. So you set down the box with a sigh and began explaining everything that happened. And he listens, fully and wholeheartedly. He doesn’t say anything, nor is he thinking of what to say until you finish. By the time you’re done going over the events that transpired that eventful day you find that you’re choking back tears. 

“I want you to take a deep breath,” he instructed. He walked up to you as you did so and set his hands on your shoulders. “With finals next week, you should go home and rest so it doesn’t impact your exams. Your immune system is weakest when you’re stressed and you should take care of your body-”

“Wait, Kita-san—” It’s already too late, he had you turned around and began pushing you towards the exit in the back. 

“-Eat some dinner and sleep early tonight. Then make sure to get plenty of breaks as you study.” 

“Wait, but Kita, I need to work,” you pleaded, dropping the honorific. Although, that caused you more of a fright than himself as you scampered to try to fix your mistake but Kita just holds up a hand. He didn’t really mind the fact that you dropped it. 

“Do you need the money?” 

You blinked then stare down at your feet with a soft murmur of ‘yes’ and begin to explain, “I work the exact hour of shifts needed to pay for rent before the end of the month. Financial aid only covers tuition and just enough for groceries so...” 

Kita’s quiet for a few moments before he lets out a sigh, “You should still go home.” 

“Wha-? But-!”

“If you need to work an extra shift, I can work one in for you. After finals which is before the end of the month and before your next paycheck.” You frown, weighing your options and as you do so, Kita leaves to go towards the front. Which was confusing as you’re left standing there in the back. You were surprised that none of your coworkers came by but you suppose it’s because they didn’t want to fall under Kita’s wrath with poor word choices. 

It wasn’t until a few moments later that his figure comes into view and in his hand was the standard ChaTime cup that always held warm drinks. Kita holds out the drink towards you and you hesitantly grabbed it. 

“It’s chai tea, not too caffeinated so you’ll be able to rest easy tonight but just enough energy to get you back home,” he told you. You can’t help the few tears that escape your eyes but Kita’s face doesn’t change, no pity and no anger. Just a softness you couldn’t place. It makes your cheeks heat up. You hope you can blame it on you crying, even if it wasn’t much.

“Thank you, Kita-san,” you hesitantly take the cup out of his hands after wiping away the stray tears. “I’ll be sure to rest up tonight.” 

He gives you a curt nod and you’re already on your way to clock out and on the train back to your apartment. You finish the drink by the time you get back to your apartment and do everything that would make Kita proud. Eat dinner, drink water, and rest for the rest of the night. Maybe do a little face mask and watch a bit of Sailor Moon. 

For the first time that day, you were content. 

***

The next time you walk into work is long after finals week finished. There was a bit of a dance in each step you had as you strolled through the boba shop for the morning shift. But that soon came to a halt when you heard someone clear their voice. 

“Oh, Kita-san,” you laughed sheepishly. You could’ve sworn there was a slight smile on his face but that was the least of your worries once you noticed he had two cups in his hand. 

“Here, I hope your finals went well,” he handed you the warm drink and you immediately knew it was chai tea. 

You stared at Kita as he drank his own drink, maneuvering through the shop. You noticed that for this shift, it was just the two of you working. You also noticed that Kita must have been here for a while, the floors were mopped, the teas and toppings were all prepped and ready, monitors had all the drinks, and he prepped both of you a drink. 

He must have gone out of his way to make your shift a little easier. As you drank your tea, the corners of your lips turned upwards ever so slightly. Kita may definitely seem cold at times, blunt even, but he truly looked out for others. 

“Hey, Kita-san,” you called out, walking towards the front where he was standing. He looked up, staring at you as he waited. “You wouldn’t happen to know why my landlord said I could pay my rent late with no fees, would you?” 

Kita hummed, returning his gaze out the window where people were walking and took a sip of his drink. 

“No,” he replied. An uncharastic smirk made its way onto his face that you barely noticed as he took another sip. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. Staring down at the cup in your hands, your fingers playing with the cup sleeve, you struggled to find the right words only to resort for something simple. 

“Thank you.” 

Kita’s brown eyes glanced towards your figure, happy that you seem more well rested. He takes another sip from his cup before speaking up.

“You’re welcome.”

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚢, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗!

𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: okay hi again lmao. I guess this kinda exposes which anon i am and which college i go to WHOOPS LOL and iykyk lol (to anyone else reading that’s not ae ra). I was going to submit my atsumu one for the 4k writing challenge but I’ve gotta admit, I do not have a plot for his fic yet (as of the moment I’m writing this). And like I said before, I really enjoyed writing Kita’s sm that I wanted to use this one to submit for the writing challenge plus as i started i already had begun to write this in mind for the challenge. (i was also debating submitting Akaashi’s but then I realized I had posted that one already askdhkjf) 🥺🥺 though, this was definitely me being a bit more “risky” (?) since this is the first i’ve written for kita so I’m still trying to understand his character hnng. but i hope you enjoyed reading it! 👉👈 

I haven’t been able to write many things that are over like 3k lately so hopefully this short little fic suffices 🥺🥺 And I’ve only recently been motivated/inspired to write these boba fics, otherwise I would’ve done something else entirely! But it’s been a hot minute since I’ve done a writing challenge and I wanted to celebrate yours and i love love love writing challenges. 

Anywyayyayay, I’ve always enjoyed your writing but I really hope you’re taking your time to take care of yourself! Remember to write for you, get your sleep, eat and drink water (please don’t drink just milk tea omg), study hard, and uhhhhhhhhh make sure to relax!!