#When we handed out more candy in this tiny aging town

[seresinhangmanjake]

From Two to Four

Single Dad!Jake Seresin x Single Mom!reader

Summary: a trip to the movie theater with your son becomes more eventful when you meet a man and manage to save his daughter's birthday from being ruined.

notes: this is going to be a mini series from @rosiahills22 request :)

warnings: none.

Words: 841

----

PART 1:

Your arm is being yanked on but that isn't unusual. With the way your son is, you're surprised you've not had a trip to the hospital to have your shoulder shoved back into its socket. He's strong for his age, and with the handful he is already, you just know you're in for more surprises as he ages; ones you can only hope you'll know how to tackle on your own.

Jamie pulls you through small crowd after small crowd in his effort to make it to the treats. Only when you're in line does he drop your hand so he can press his nose against the glass shelf displaying every variety of candy he could possibly want. A sugar-high child was not in your plans for the day, but you refuse to dull his excitement.

"Mommy, can we get rainbow gummies?"

His voice blends with a sudden cry, and you turn your head to find a small girl leaning against one of the theater's decorative pillars. Her blue tutu is scrunched in her little hands, and the bedazzled tiara on her head is beginning to slip sideways. Softly brushing away her tears is a man crouched in front of her. He tries to right her crown as her finger shoots directly toward the large movie poster behind the man's head.

"Daddy!"

"I know, baby, I know. But it’s sold out," he sighs. "We'll come back tomorrow, OK? I'm sorry."

He stands straight and takes her hand, a look of utter heartbreak marring his handsome features when he begins to lead her past you toward the door. 

"Excuse me,” comes out of your mouth without a thought. 

When he pauses, the little girl nearly bumps into the back of his calf. His eyes meet yours, and the tenseness tightening his brow and the line of his lips soothes. 

“I don’t mean to bother you, but I have two extra tickets to the same movie if you want them."

A dark blond brow raises. “You’re going to see The Dragon Princess of Amethyst Mountain 2?”

“Well, the first one had such a gripping storyline." You chuckle at the amused expression on his face. “My son is with me,” you say and look behind you at the boy all but licking the glass case in anticipation. “Jaime, come here, sweetheart.”

Candy magically forgotten, Jamie bounds over to you with the widest of grins, stopping right beside you to stare up at the man.

“Hi!” he says loudly and clearly, with a certain confident authority only a four-year-old could possess. “I’m Jameson “Jamie”.

The man laughs. “Hi Jameson “Jamie”, I’m Jake, and this is Olive.”

Jamie’s eyes immediately go to the girl. His head tilts. “Like the snack?”

“Jamie, honey, don’t say–”

“Yea,” the girl pipes up, her tiny fist rubbing at the dried tears below her eye. 

Your boy's eyes light up, and you know what he's about to say before it exits his mouth. “I love olives!”

"Really?"

"Yep yep!"

Jake chuckles, releases his daughter's hand, and moves to stand beside you so he may join you in watching your children form an instant bond. 

"Just so you know," he says, leaning closer, "I didn't name my child after a food, intentionally."

You don't care what and why he named his child as you watch Jamie take an immediate liking to her. He needs a friend, and you've never seen him invested quite so quickly. 

"Hey, I don't judge," you reply, making the man laugh again. You're starting to like it. It's deep and husky and has an intoxicating element that wants to lure you into your own fit of giggles. 

"I'm Jake," he formally introduces, sticking out his hand for you to shake. You do so as you offer your name in return. "So how did you end up with extra tickets to the best movie in town?"

"I've got a sister who's a flake and a brother-in-law with a missing backbone," you say before clicking your tongue. "Which is a shame, honestly, because I think he really wanted to see it."

"Well, I hate to say I'm thankful for that, but you've just saved my daughter's birthday, so…"

"Daddy," Olive calls, her entire mood having taken a complete shift, "can we get rainbow gummies?"

"Sure, baby."

Jamie and Olive jump up and down, their hands tightly clasped together. Then your son hurriedly leads the girl back over to the candy case to show her everything she's about to enjoy.

"How old?" you ask.

"Four."

"So is Jamie."

As if on cue, Jamie looks back at you. "Mommy, and cookie dough bites?"

"Your boy's got a good appetite," Jake says, crossing his arms and nodding his head Jamie's way. 

"Oh, just you wait. He'll want–"

"And popcorn, Mommy?"

You snort. "See?"

Jake's eyes travel over your face, pulling forth a light blush that you can already feel heating your cheeks. His wide open lips display pearly whites, and there is a glint in his gaze when he says, "Well we better get them their snacks then."

---

A/N: More to come for this little series! I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @kmc1989 @oliviah-25 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792

[sturniyolos]

𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚍𝚊 - 𝚖.𝚜

[18+]

When you first saw him, you didn’t believe it and you couldn’t believe it. It almost felt like you were dreaming. He looked too unreal— with his white short sleeve that had “RANSOM” over the chest, that showed off his black & white tattoos, with black baggy jeans and white shoes. You couldn’t believe you were able to see this everyday for the next month.

Now you were sitting at the dinner table eating your last bits of your meal across from him, with your father and stepmother on your right.

“But yeah, as a couple who frequently works out of town, we need someone to take care of the garden— my little Y/N’s garden because her-“

“Dad… stop.” You said, embarassed as you sip your cherry soda.

“What?! It’s true. You spend more time in that garden than you do with me.” Your dad exclaims. “Though she takes care of it as well, I thought she can use an extra hand and the company, hence why you are here. That used to be her and her mother’s favorite activity together.”

You rolled your eyes, not at the fact that he mentioned your mother, but at the fact that your stepmother, Jocelyn, exhaled a loud sigh. She knows nothing about your mother, who is she to judge.

“Of course. I used to work in my mother’s garden all the time with my brothers so I have no problem with helping you guys at all.” He said, wiping his hands with the hand cloth.

You were begging for him to say his name, or his age even. He looked too young, yet so mature. You were praying and praying he wasn’t some older man or even some kid that wasn’t even above the legal age.

“You’re twenty? My Y/N is just a couple of months younger than you. You guys will get along well.” As my dad sips his wine, I crack a tiny smirk.

“Yeah, I know we will.” He darts his eyes from your father to you. You guys make eye contact for a few seconds, until your dad breaks the conversation, again.

“Alright well, me and Jocelyn will be heading out for a business meeting and won’t be back until a week. Your first day starts tomorrow, Mr…?” Your dad asks as he’s waiting for a last name.

“The name is Matthew, but everyone calls me Matt.”

Matt… That’s a name you can get used to.

——————————————————————————

As the day hottest day of the year began, Matt already started working on the garden. As your windows are open, here you are in your room on the second floor, drinking your favorite cherry soda and reading your favorite book for probably the 20th time. As you look away from my book, you look down and see Matt. He’s shirtless with denim shorts that end by his knee. You admire the view as you watch him water the garden, and sweep the dead leaves off the garden. You decide to get him a drink as he is working in tremendous heat. You grab him one of your cherry sodas and head out to the backyard. You had cases on cases of cherry soda, it fufills a sweet tooth craving that chocolate nor candy can satisfy.

“Hi.” You say, trying to get his attention.

“Oh hey, what’s up.” He says turning around and wiping his sweat with the shirt on his shoulder.

“It’s really hot today so I wanted to get you a drink.” You said cracking a small smile.

“You sure? I know you really love these cherry sodas.” He asks while slightly laughing and as he runs his hand through his hair.

“Yes. I got it from the fridge so it’s nice and cold.” You assure him, handing it to him.

“Thank you, Y/N. That’s really sweet of you.” He places his shirt and the drink down on the glass table in the backyard.

“Would you like me to help? I feel bad for just letting you work in the heat.” You ask looking up at him, as he’s so much taller than you.

“No, it’s fine. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.” He says slightly smiling.

There was a tiny silence, you were trying to figure out what to say.

“Come on Cherry, you’re too pretty to be working in the heat.” He says.

You became flustered at the nickname and the compliment, and looked down to avoid eye contact.

“A-alright. Well if you need me, I’ll be in my room reading. Don’t be shy to ask me for anything.” You say smiling, then turning back around and walking away.

But what you didn’t know is Matt was staring and analyzing everything about you while you were talking to him and while you walked away from him— your beautiful hair, the way your inital necklace stopped perfectly on top of your chest, your tank top that made your tits look amazing, your silk skirt that shaped your ass perfectly, and your skin shining beautifully in the sunlight. As he continued his garden work, he had nothing but you on his mind.

——————————————————————————

As the early night started to roll around, you ended up in the living room with your book, but you couldn’t even read it. You were so fixated in your imagination about what happened with Matt. How good he looked, how his voice sounded, and how he talked to you. You started crossing your legs to feel some type of friction— how is he making you feel like this? You barely even know him.

You come back to reality when you hear Matt come downstairs, all clean and showered up. He was wearing a white tank top with grey shorts and Nike white socks. You uncross your legs and hide your book when you make eye contact with him.

“Hi Cherry.” He says walking past you on the couch and into the kitchen.

You blush at the nickname, again, and greet him back, “Hi Matt,” as you follow him into the kitchen.

“Sorry to bother but, do you have an extra phone charger I could use?” He asks me looking around as if he lost it.

“Y-yes, I’ll be right back.” As you run upstairs to find your extra chargers. He walks out of the kitchen to look at all your family photos, baby photos, as well as your stepmother and father’s degrees planted all over the house. Then he notices a colorful thick book on the couch with the pages faced down and the spine facing Matt. As curiosity creeps up to him, he opens the page and reads what’s currently infront of his eyes.

“He carried me to the bed, not breaking the kiss. He started kissing my neck, leaving love marks all over. He never let go of my neck— he choked me like his life depended on it and I loved it. I just couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of me. I fit so perfectly in his hands, it was almost like my ass was made for his hands. He started kissing down my body and made it to my pussy. I started to squirm as he planted a kiss on my clothed heat. He slid down my underwear, licked a long stripe up, looked up at me and said, ‘You taste just like cherry cola.’ As he started to eat my-“

Matt’s eyes reading through the page as he starts smirking. Maybe the idea he had of Y/N was not so innocent after all. His smirk then disappears off his face as he hears you come back down with the extra charger in hand. He places the book just as he found it and makes eye contact with the pretty girl.

“Sorry it took so long, I had to check my drawers.” She said with a cheeky smile.

“No worries, thank you Cherry.” He says, grabbing it from her hand as they touched fingers.

No one let go as they stared at each other. Then Matt started to go up to the guest room where he’d be sleeping there for the rest of the month.

—————————————————————————-

A few hours have passed by and boredom is eating you up. You then decided to go in your backyard and lay down with a blanket in hand. And you decided to lay in one of the beach chairs and just lay in the moonlight. You usually did this when you were home alone, as you had no one yelling at you to come back inside because it was “getting too cold” as your dad would say. You laid down with the blanket and started to soak up the moon, it was a perfect full moon and barely any wind.

Then, he entered your thoughts once again. The way he looked when he’s watching you talk, the way his tattoos filled his left arm, the way he called you Cherry, the way his voice got deeper when talking to you. Now, you were laying down in the moonlight, fingers creeping slowly down your pyjama shorts and into your underwear. You started to think about what he’d do to you. You always loved being submissive, like the main girl character in your favorite book. You thought about all the things he’d make you do, he looks like he’d make you beg for it, or make you take it until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your lips started to part as you felt more and more pleasure.

“M-matt… please.” You say, desperately wanting more.

You were hitting all the right spots, and you were so close to unwinding. You started to think about how rough he’d be with you and how he’d praise and degrade you till you couldn’t take it. You were so close— so close until you heard a sound coming from behind you, and you stopped. Taking your hands out of your shorts and grabbing your blanket to cover yourself. You almost got whiplash because of how quick you turned your head. You look up as you see Matt’s room light go from on to off. You looked back to your feet. Did he just catch his bosses daughter touching herself to him? You quickly gather up all your things and head to your room. There is no way you can face him tomorrow.

——————————————————————————

[sunpaintedsea]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { CLEMENTINE SHEPHERD } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE} is ? they kind of look like { FLORENCE PUGH} and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { TWENTY-SIX } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { FOUR YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { TINKERBELL } from { PETER PAN }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { LOMAX AUTO REPAIRS } as a { MECHANIC }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { INVENTOR } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { DISTRACTED } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { INTELLIGENT } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { THREE BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { SUNSET VILLAS }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you! 

Basic Information

Full Name: clementine june shepherd

Nickname(s): clem, tine, tiny clem

Age: twenty-six

Date of Birth: march 30

Hometown: naples, florida

Current Location: palmview grove, florida

Gender: cisfemale (questioning)

Pronouns: she/her

Orientation: biromantic, bisexual

Relationship Status: single

Occupation: mechanic @ lomax auto repair

Favourites

Weather: thunderstorm

Colour:  red

Sport:  none

Beverage: root beer

Food: cotton candy

Animal:  raccoon

Family

Sibling(s): rhodes shepherd, brother tba.

Pet(s): none (yet)

Biography

clementine has always been determined to be the exact opposite of what people expected of her, and the thought of conformity made her skin crawl. this made her the mortal enemy of teachers, coaches, and most importantly, her father. they would butt heads constantly. while her elder brother strove to fulfill their father's dreams, clementine was determined to shed every expectation he had set for her. despite being wildly creative, wicked smart, and uniquely inventive, she shunned the idea of college. instead, she packed up everything she owned and moved out of their family home on the day she turned 18.

the one salvation clementine had growing up was her brothers, and so when she left home, she knew she had to stay close. when rhodes approached her with the idea of moving to palmview grove, she jumped at the chance. the further she could get from home, the happier she would be. since she'd never been able to hold down a steady job, there was not really much for her to leave behind.

things have been going decidedly better for clementine since she's come to palmview grove. while she still can't settle into a career she loves, she's been able to make new friends and has even found a great apartment with roommates she doesn't mind living with. it's not perfect, no, but she's happy. which is more than she ever expected. her current job is working as a mechanic, and being active with her hands has given her a satisfaction she never really expected. plus, in her free time, she gets to work on whatever project tickles her fancy.

[smallbusinessesbiglegacies]

Small Town, Big Memories

For the past 19 years, I’ve had the privilege of growing up in the small suburban town of East Bridgewater, Massachusetts, with a population of about 14,000 people, located about 26 miles south of Boston. It was only this past August when I left my home on Christina Drive to attend Endicott College that I realized just how much this tiny corner of the world provided me with. EB may not have any giant shopping malls, thrilling adventure parks, or five star steakhouses, but it’s home to a few memorable small businesses that make sticking around worth it.

602 Oak Street in East Bridgewater is yet another address I grew up at, home of Michelle's Studio of Dance. At age three, my parents signed me up for classes; I walked in those doors completely unaware of what the next 15 years held for me. I instantly fell in love with that place: the teachers, the students, the art of dance, I loved it all. From my first ballet recital to my last competition winning ‘The Sparkle Award’ I’ve dreamed of for years, I’ve grown an abundant amount since my days as a toddler. Although I’ve matured a lot as a dancer, Michelle’s Studio of Dance has taught me even more about being a good human.

Michelle Lessard, owner of Michelle’s Studio of Dance, has acted as a second mother to me throughout my whole life. She’s coached me four days a week since I was a baby, offered me one of my first jobs, wiped my tears away on my hardest days, encouraged me to pursue dance after graduation, and traveled hours to attend my first college performance. Lessard was my fairy godmother, always there when I needed her with words of wisdom beyond her years. I can honestly say that not every dancer I know was as lucky as me to grow up in such a loving and nurturing environment, and that’s all thanks to Lessard. For the last 35 years Lessard has ensured her students have gained a proper education in dance, but most importantly, gained the confidence and kindness necessary for a life after exiting the studio’s doors. Even after moving out of my small town, Michelle’s Studio of Dance will always be a second home to me.

Another town spot that I spent countless hours at throughout my childhood is Skinner’s Sugar House, a business as delightfully sweet as it sounds. A beautiful building full of ice cream, penny candy, home roasted nuts, and scrumptious fudge. I’ve been an avid customer of Skinner’s since I was a kid, and have made some of the best memories of my childhood there. Every Friday afternoon, the entire middle school would saunter half a mile down Central Street to Skinner’s and congregate with our ice cream cones on the front lawn for hours upon end. God bless owner Paul Daley for putting up with the slew of us kids taking over his shop at the end of every week, cause if he hadn’t, a portion of my childhood would be entirely less sweet.

After my little league team won the championship softball game, our coaches drove all of us girls to Skinner’s for celebratory sundaes. We were covered in dirt, grinning from ear to ear, tirelessly shoving sprinkles into our mouths. My very first date was a brisk January walk to Skinner’s. (The cold New England weather never stopped us.) Cameron and I strolled the familiar path to Skinner’s Sugar House after the school bell rang as our friends tried to force our hands to meet, both of us too embarrassed to get close to one another. Flash forward seven years, my best friends and I went our separate ways after graduating high school. Our first stop when we reconvened over winter break was none other than the Skinner’s parking lot, enjoying their delicious ice cream and familiar atmosphere we know all too well.

I’m extremely lucky to have Viking Pizza only a short distance from my house on Bedford Street, as my family is likely one of their most frequent customers. Tony Mamouzellos, our neighbor, is the proud owner of Viking Pizza, and ensures that all customers and East Bridgewater residents leave his restaurant happier than when they came in. When I come home from school after suffering through the dining hall cuisine, the first meal I want is always a Greek salad from Viking with extra pita bread. Of course, Mamouzellos knows my family’s order by heart, and rarely lets us leave without giving us free slices of pizza and calzones. Most of the time when my dad calls in our order, the employee on the other line shouts out “Chris Cyr! Is that you?” It’s become a tradition that our calls to Viking exist on speaker phones so we can all revel in these hilarious conversations. Even the delivery drivers walk into the entryway of our home to pet our dog, Mabel. Viking Pizza is like family to us, and I’m grateful that so many of my favorite meals start with a quick drive to Viking Pizza and end with a gathering around the couch with my parents to devour our favorite comfort foods.

Just five minutes down the road on Washington Street lies McGuiggan’s Pub, a true delicacy to me and my people. At age 16, I walked into the pub hoping for a summer job, and ended up gaining a sense of community full of unbreakable bonds. I’ve been working at McGuiggan’s on and off for years now, and love nothing more than spending my school breaks and weekends laughing at the host stand with the servers and bussers. Although work isn’t necessarily supposed to be fun, working at the pub absolutely is. Even when the customers are rude, I can’t help but cackle when complaining to my workers who always take my side and make endless jokes about them.

Before I had the opportunity to experience McGuiggan’s Pub from an employee’s point of view, I was a frequent patron. After my dance recitals, my extended family and I would pile into one of the big mahogany tables and stuff our faces with their famous bar pizza. I used to love coming in on the weekends to hear the live music, obsessed with the bands and singers who would walk through the doors. Little did I know just years later that I’d be the one helping to set up for these artists, and seating little girls just like myself after their showcases and tournaments. With McGuiggan’s Pub, my childhood has come full circle, and I’m grateful to have obtained all of those memories on either side of the host stand. 

Growing up in East Bridgewater may not have been as glamorous or luxurious as living in The Big Apple or Los Angeles, but it was perfect to me. Certain establishments allowed this town to grow differently than our neighbors, and having so many fond memories of these businesses is something I value greatly. My home was a central location in between all of the businesses that played a part in raising me, and I am so grateful to look back on my town with these nostalgic memories.

[msbarrows]

While handing out candy tonight (to the entire dozen kids who showed up) I found myself thinking about how long it has been since I was last doing so.

Last year I was, iirc, down at my sister’s place in Toronto, and between her being immunocompromised and COVID still running rampant, candy was not handed out.

Year before that? COVID. Also no Halloween.

Year before that? Dad was still alive. I think we had maybe 6-8 kids total show up (it had been very low numbers for years - this town had aged out of having much of a population of kids).

[musings-of-a-rose]

I Miss Her Too

Pairing: Marcus Moreno with Missy Moreno

Word Count: 800+

Rating: everyone (it does touch on death of a loved one though nothing descriptive)

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This is not beta’d. Or really half beta’d. I love this man and would do anything for him.

This is for the @writer-wednesday prompt of a picture of a ferris wheel!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

PHOTO PROMPT:

It had been too long since he’d seen her smile.

He hadn’t seen Missy smile since her mother died, leaving Marcus feeling like a fish out of water, trying to deal not only with his own grief but that of his daughter’s as well.

He tried to get her to laugh, to remember the good times, take her places, buy her things, but none of it worked. How many kids never smile once while at DisneyLand?

So when the state fair was in town, his hopes were low that she’d even want to go, let alone enjoy herself. She agreed to go, if only to make Marcus happy, which made his heart ache even more for her.

They walked around the fairgrounds, maneuvering around the crowds of people, Missy absent-mindedly snacking on some cotton candy.

“Want to play some games?” Marcus asked her hopefully.

Missy shook her head. “That’s more your thing, dad.”

He nods and continues to walk next to her, so close but feeling like a million miles away. He has no clue how to help her, to reach her, to let her know she’s not alone.

They round the corner to the rides and Missy glances up from the ground where her eyes had been glued almost the entire time.

“Dad?”

“Yes?” He nearly trips, eager to answer any question that she has, just happy she’s speaking to him.

“Can we go on the ferris wheel?” She looks up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. She didn’t need to use the puppy eyes on him - he would’ve given her anything she wanted at this point.

“Of course, mija.”

Tickets purchased, they walk up to the man running the ferris wheel, handing him their tickets and waiting for their turn. Missy tosses the cotton candy stick in the trash and stares up at the ferris wheel, the lights shining brighter as the sun sets. Eventually it’s their turn and they enter the tiny cart, swaying back and forth slightly as they sit across from each other, knees knocking together in the small space.

The machine groans as the carts start to move slowly, bringing them up and around. Missy stares out at the fairgrounds, watching as they spin around a few times. Her face is contorted in thought, her long hair moving in the breeze. Marcus watches her - she looks so like her mom and he chokes back a tear at the thought of her. The ferris wheel starts to slow and their cart is at the top as it stops, allowing the passengers to look around.

“The ferris wheel was mom’s favorite,” Missy whispers but to Marcus, it sounds like she is shouting.

“It was…do you remember the last time we were at the fair? You were so young.”

Missy continues to look out over the fairgrounds, but a small smile appears on her face.

“A little. I remember you winning me that giant stuffed bear that we had to stuff in my stroller. I remember the cotton candy and wondering how it melted. But mostly I remember-” she swallows hard. “-I remember mom. How she told me I could be brave and come on the ferris wheel with her and that it held a magic when we got to the top. How we could see for miles and miles, a superpower we could have even though we weren’t like you.”

Marcus wipes at his face quickly, not wanting Missy to see he had started to cry.

“Mija, you and your mom do have a superpower.”

She turned to look at him, fully meeting his eyes for the first time in months. “We do?”

He smiles at her. “Love. The way you both love…loved…me. It keeps me centered, down here. It gives me something to lose so I have something worth fighting for. And that is the greatest gift anyone can have.”

Missy lets out a sob, launching herself forward into Marcus’s outstretched arms. The cart sways from the new movement but neither one notices, so absorbed in the other.

“You know you can talk to me about mom, about anything. I’m here for you, Missy.”

Missy nods, not moving her head from him. “I love you, dad,” Missy sobs into his shoulder, her body heaving under her crying.

“I love you too, Missy. So much. I’m here for you, mija.” His own tears start to fall as he holds her to him, the cart slowly moving back down to Earth, as if it accomplished what it set out to do.

When they reached the bottom they separated, Missy taking her dad’s hand and leaving the cart with him. She looks up at him and smiles, wiping her tears away as Marcus does the same.

“Wanna win me a giant bear that we definitely don’t have space for?”

“What color bear do you want?”

—----

[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.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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.

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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.

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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.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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."

[hargrove-mayfields]

The first summer after the incident at Starcourt, things have finally had enough time to slowly ease back into normalcy.

The day after school lets out, the kids talk Steve into letting them come swim in his pool. It’s only for a couple of hours, and honestly, it does them all some good, the kids getting to pretend things are okay for a while, and Steve getting to soothe that worry that crept in every time he didn’t have an eye on all of them, so despite the guilt they all certainly felt for having fun, they let themselves enjoy it, for a little while at least.

The gimmick of what made summer fun ran out pretty quickly for them though, so once they’d all gotten sunburnt shoulders and had tangles in their hair and wrinkles on their fingers from the chlorinated water, they decided it was time to go home. They weren’t up for the arcade or ice cream after the pool like they used to be either, but they had had just under a year now to decide they were okay with that.

So Steve loads them all up into his new Mercedes-Benz, the replacement for the BMW that became necessary post battle when they discovered his car had been crushed at some point during that night by the Mind Flayer, and took them all home.

Max’s house was the last on his route no matter which way he went, the only member of the party who lived on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town now that the Byers’ had moved, so it’s just the two of them in the car. As they pull up outside though, she hesitates to get out, instead nervously picking at the stitches in the seat, mulling over something in her head.

They aren’t really close, no bond between them beyond babysitter and grumpy teenager not happy to have one, but Steve feels an obligation towards all of these kids, so he shifts in the seat so he’s facing her, and asks her in a way he hoped sounds approachable, “What’s up, Max?”

Max takes another second and a deep breath before speaking, wringing her hands nervously, “Billy’s birthday is in a few days and I don’t think anybody knows that, but I want to do something for him.”

Steve nods, doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do at first, “Have you talked to your mom about this?”

He asks because word traveled fast in a small town like Hawkins. Everyone and their mother knew that Neil Hargrove had split before they’d even stabilized his son in the hospital, and his wife had stayed with their children, taking full responsibility for Billy and Max. If anyone should be having a party for Billy, it should be Susan.

“Yeah and she liked the idea, but she’s been really busy with work and stuff, double now with Billy’s medical bills, and I know a lot of the other parents are too and some of them I just don’t know well enough to ask, and I don’t know who else to turn to because normally I’d take this stuff to Billy and I can’t do it by myself.” Max rambles all in one breath, has clearly been thinking about this for a long time.

Steve obviously wants to encourage that, so he asks, “What did you wanna do for him?”

“I just wanted to have a party for him at the hospital, but I know that’s kinda dumb since nobody goes to see him anyways.” Max mumbles, wrapping her fingers around the door handle like she’s going to get out, “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. What day is it, his birthday?”

“The sixth. I know that’s kinda short notice but-“ Max starts again, but Steve interrupts, a small smile on his face as if to prove he’s genuine, “No, it’s fine. We’ll figure something out. We’re not going to let Billy be alone on his birthday.”

It doesn’t seem to have the effect Steve wanted though, because Max scoffs and pushes the car door open, snapping before she gets out, “You do every other day.”

Even though Max had been so short with him at first, after that, she and Steve work on a plan at the end of every day when he was driving her back home, Max slowly evolving from tense about even bringing it up to actually excited for this thing they were working on together for her brother.

Steve doesn’t really have the time or the know-how for home made anything, but he buys everything you typically would find at an under twenty one birthday party, balloons and streamers, a chocolate cake, per Max’s request, and a tub of Superman ice cream, also a suggestion from Max.

He doesn’t buy Billy a present, he figures he doesn’t have use for much for anything material in the hospital, and although he’s willing to help, he feels he still doesn’t really know Billy like that anymore.

Or maybe he does, he just doesn’t know if the friendship they had been reluctantly developing would withstand the strain the accident at Starcourt had put on it, and didn’t feel it was very appropriate just to show up with an expensive knick knack that would just rub his wealth in Billy’s face.

Instead, he gets him a card, because who doesn’t want a birthday card, and leaves a hundred dollars and a heartfelt note in it. The money is because he has it and Billy needs it more than he does, and a hundred dollars was standard for milestone birthdays, in his family at least, and since Billy was lucky to see his nineteenth come around, he figures this counted.

So on the sixth of June, they’re ready to celebrate Billy.

Steve drives the kids all to the hospital that day, surprised that even without El around right now to convince them to, they were all willing to come. He guesses they’d all seen how torn up Max was when Billy was admitted to the hospital, and now that eleven months later he still hadn’t got out, it was bound to be hard on her.

It wasn’t a surprise anymore, Max had let it slip to Billy a few days beforehand in her excitement, so they just went straight up to his room, each kid and Steve carrying something, decorations or food or presents.

At first, Billy doesn’t really seem to thrilled to see them, but Steve supposed he wouldn’t be either, it couldn’t be any fun aging in the hospital, especially surrounded by nobody but your little sisters friends.

But they still set it all up for him, tying balloons to his bed and hanging streamers above the door. Max sits with him and keeps him entertained with stories, but what makes his mood significantly improve is when a nurse interrupted them to give him another dose of his pain meds.

Once they’re all set up, it’s Lucas who points out, “We forgot the candles for the cake.”

And it’s Max who, without really thinking about it, reminds him, “We probably have some with all the decorations and stuff we bought.”

It’s Dustin who looks and finds a pack of candles that someone indeed had brought, and calls out, “Found some.”

But it’s Steve who is seemingly the only one able to remember that the birthday boy was still on oxygen after a lung transplant and didn’t think he needed to be blowing out any candles, reminding Dustin very pointedly, “Actually, Dustin, I don’t think we need any candles.

Of course he argues, because kids do, “C'mon Steve, it's a birthday cake. All birthday cakes have candles.”

“Yeah, but I said I don’t think this one needs any.” Steve says, through his teeth this time, nodding subtly towards Billy, and Dustin's eyes widen a little, and the candles get put back without another word about it.

Instead, Steve gives Billy the zippo from his pocket, flipping it open for him so a tiny flame dances in front of his face, “Make a wish, Hargrove.”

Billy takes the lighter, a little apprehensively, but he stays quiet, looking up at Steve as he presumably makes his wish to himself, then clicks it shut, extinguishing the flame.

Ever impatient, the kids decide that’s their cue to cut into the cake without really asking anybody, but Steve doesn’t stop them, because as Billy reminds Max when she sits down on his bedside with a piece, “I can’t really eat that right now, kiddo, but thank you.”

She blows him off, teasingly uncaring in that sibling way, “Oh, I know, that’s why I picked chocolate cake, ‘cause I know you don’t like it. I just wanted you to have one, so it felt like a real birthday.”

Billy smiles wide, holds his arms out the best he can anymore for a hug, “Aww, come ‘ere, shitbird.”

Max spends the rest of their little impromptu party at his bedside, talking to her friends but sitting with her brother, the both of them chasing that sense of normalcy that everyone else had been able to move on and achieve, but they had no chance at grasping so long as they were apart.

That is at least, until to keep himself busy while the kids argue about something, Billy reads his card from Steve, that long written out note that detailed all his feelings and regrets and thoughts about Billy that he had been grappling with since Billy was hospitalized, sorrys and thank yous and happy birthday, everything crammed into that card but the part about how Steve had been falling in love with Billy since they met in ‘84.

It makes Steve nervous, twitchy and vulnerable with Billy reads it, until he gently closes the card and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and a little teary.

The first thing he says is an unrelated question, ruffling his little sisters hair and asking her, “Maxi, can you go down to the vending machine at the end of the hall and grab me some stuff? I’m running out of candy to hide in the bedside drawer.”

Max nods and slides down from his bed, and Billy adds, “Take all your friends too. See if they want anything.”

He waits until all the kids are gone, their voices echoing distantly down the long hallway, to ask Steve, “D’you do all this for me, Harrington?”

Steve shrugs, not sure if he’s more humble or nervous about why Billy wanted to talk to him alone, “It was Max’s idea.”

“But you still organized it, right?”

“I guess. I don’t want a thank you or anything though.” Steve insists, but Billy smiles, a bright one like Steve hardly ever saw anymore, and insists right back “Too bad, you’re getting one. Thank you.”

Steve just shrugs again, “It’s your birthday, Hargrove. I wasn’t going to let you be forgotten.”

“I would’ve been okay, Steve. Birthdays were just… never really a thing in my family anyways.”

Steve can tell they were going to go back and forth all day, arguing over whether or not he should be celebrated, and if he needed someone by his side, if he doesnt change the subject, so he asks him, “What’d you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you that or it won’t come true.” Billy hums, thoughtful, and he says, sounding like his sister, “And it’s sort of dumb anyways.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not dumb. If it’s something you want, it can’t be.”

Billy looks up at him, a little smile on his face, and explains, “I don’t know it’s just, I’m going to be sick for the rest of my life, I’m stuck in the hospital for another month at least and my dad disowned me, but, my wish still wasn’t for any of that to change.”

“What was it then?”

Billy takes a deep breath, a noticeable flush to his face, “I wished that I would have the guts to finally do this.”

For a second Steve wonders what he’s talking about, worries briefly that he was going to use the distraction and the relaxed attention from the nurses on his birthday to make grand escape from the hospital or something, until Billy leans up and kisses him.

It’s chaste and it’s sweet, everything that he’d expect from anybody that wasn’t Billy Hargrove, and everything that Steve could ever have wanted. He sits down on the bed beside Billy to make the angle easier on the both of them, not breaking the kiss for even a second, bringing his hand up to cup Billy's cheek, and deepening the kiss.

They’re interrupted by the squeaking of tennis shoes on the waxy hospital floors in the hallway, the kids coming back already, so Steve pulls away, just as flushed as Billy was now and keeping one of his hands resting on top of Billy’s, “Happy birthday, Billy.”

[slutdery]

I like my donuts with jam in the middle.

make a wish series.

A series (for each member of the unit) about their lines in make a wish (english version).

pairing | jaemin x fem!reader

genre | smut, fluff

words | 2.8k

warning | sex without protection (use condom pls!), sweet talk, kinda vanilla ig, softdom!jaemin, oral sex (f receiving), mature content.

author’s note | my native language isn’t english, so if there’s something wrong with anything i wrote tell me and i’ll edit it.

‘How can someone wake up every morning to work on such a sweet place and still complain?’ Yes, that’s  actually what your friends asked you everyday. If only the main public wasn’t kids, maybe, just maybe you wouldn’t complain that much. The place is always crowded, people from everywhere go to the candy store you worked. It was one of the best candy stores on the area, not any place had the donuts and the milkshakes your family made. ‘Oh, right! that’s why i still work there. My family own’s  this shitty store.’ you thought while cleaning the tables, after all the place was almost opening. Finally finishing what you were doing, you walked directly to the entrance door, switching the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’.

🌟

“Sir, i won’t pass my number to you. I have the age to be your daughter.” You said while trying to organize the orders and hand them over to your cousin that worked with you.

“Ok, i’m sorry.” The man told you and walked away from the giant line that had in front of the cashier. You rolled your eyes at the gross dude, not like you weren’t used to that happening, but an old man? Made you want to throw up. When you looked at the line again you spotted a black haired guy at the end of the line, he was totally looking at you, you couldn’t deny it. He was hot. But not like the ‘hot common guys.’ he was like the ones that you never saw in your entire life, ‘Celestial.’ was the only thing on your mind when you looked at him.

“Honey, i don’t have all day. Please two chocolate donuts and one strawberry milkshake.”

“Sorry. That’s 10.35 dollars.” You wrote down the order and waited for the payment, receiving not much time later. After a few more people it was finally the hot guy turn. He was for sure from heaven, not just his black eyes matching his hair, nor his perfect nose and not even his incredibly pretty lips. It was all of this together, that made him the most handsome person in the world. You recognized him in the moment his eyes met yours, he came there every fucking day. Like it was his second house. He always ordered the same thing ‘donut with strawberry jam in the middle.’

“Gotcha. Donut with jam in the middle. Jaemin, right?” He smiled at you and nodded. His smile was the best thing you saw all day, other than his heavenly looks, of course. After receiving his payment, he giggled and got his phone out of his pocket.

“That may sound strange, but can i have your number? I’m sorry if it’s too, i don’t know, odd?” You were in shock. The hot guy? Asking your number? ‘This is a dream, right?’ you thought while blinking several times to see if it was true or not, and surprisingly it wasn’t a dream.

“I can’t give you my number now. But if you could wait until my shift end, i would be pleasured to give you.”

“Sure, no problem.” He smiled again and walked away, waiting for his order on the next counter that had other line. The rest of the day was simple, talking with some loyal costumers while they ordered for something or trying not to freak out with another ones. The usual, basically. Your shift was almost ending, so you tried to search for the black haired guy with your eyes, but there were so many people in front of you that it was a failure. Finally writing the last orders, you called it a day when you finished. You couldn’t stand children anymore, your limits were almost exceeding. You got out of the cashier and blew a kiss at your mom, making her giggle. You were too focused on trying to find the hot guy from earlier, it was a hard task in such a crowded little space, but you managed to spot him sitting in a small table at the back. You kept walking until it reached his table, smiling as soon as you saw him concentrated in some game at his phone. You sat in the chair beside him, drumming your fingers on the wood of the table, making all of his attention suddenly turns to you. Your heart skipped a bit as he smiled at you, a truly wonderful smile.

“Can i get your number now?” He said and looked at you, making you slightly uncomfortable by his gaze passing from your face to the rest of your body. It’s not like you haven’t done the same, it’s just that you weren’t used to talking, nor flirting with boys. Sure a lot of guys tried to but neither of them were enough to make you head over heels for him. Well, not like this guy did.

“Before giving you my number, i have a question.” At the moment you told him this you felt your cheeks burn from the shyness. He nodded at you signaling for you to go on with the question, but now you didn’t know if it’s the right time for it.

“By any chance, you ask for donuts with jam in the middle for... You know?” You suggested while doing something weird with your hands, trying to make him understand what you were talking about, but it didn’t worked.

“What?” He widened his eyes as soon as he realized what you were talking about, he weren’t clever but still wasn’t that dumb for not understanding what you were trying to say. “I’ll leave that up to your imagination, angel.” he finished biting his lower lips and getting his stare back to his game.

“I’m down. If that’s what you were trying to do everyday you came here, than i’m down for it.” You arched an eyebrow at him and licked your lower lip.

“Down for what, darling?” He didn’t looked at you while talking, making you a slut for his attention. You just wanted him to give you all of his time, and you didn’t even know him ‘What the fuck is he doing to me?’ you thought while straightening your position on the chair.

“Anything you want.” You stretched your leg to touch your feet on his, making him finally look at you, his expression was shocked like he didn’t expected this at all.

“Anything?” He locked his phone and put back on his pocket, getting his eyes back at you moments later.

“You know that i wasn’t joking.” You smirked, moving the rings on your fingers trying not to freak out after saying all those things. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was obviously staring, like he was trying to put all the things you said together.

“Oh then, would you like to go to my house?” Your eyes dilated at the sudden question. Thinking about his offer while still tidying up your rings.

“Sure, like why not.” He stood from the chair and gave you his hands to help you. You waved a ‘bye’ to your mom and left the store.

🌟

“Nice apartment.” You said while entering the not so tiny flat, of course, this side of the town had the best apartments on the area. Surprisingly the decorations were very distinct from the dark clothes he wore, white and yellow colors everywhere with plants all over the place. He grabbed your hand after closing the door, guiding you to his room.

“Mi casa es su casa, babe.” he said while laughing, making you laugh as well at his cringe phrase and ridiculous accent.

After getting inside his room you studied all of it. It was comfy and had clean colors, a pretty tiny balcony with curtains on the sides of the door. He sat at the end of the bed and pulled your hand to sit beside him, he didn’t let go of your hand in any moment, caressing your fingers with his thumbs sometimes.

“You know, you have a pretty smile.” You saw his smile again from the compliment, he got his head close to yours, his mouth next to your ear.

“Thank you, love.” He whispered and finally let go your fingers, his hand resting on your shoulder, suddendly pushing your body to lay on the bed, he made his way through the top of you while traveling his hands all over your waist. He got closer to you, he didn’t hesitated on making what he wanted, his lips weren’t so far away from yours now, being this close made you smell the scent of the softener on his hoodie mixed with his spicy perfume. Your hands were next to the bottom of his hoodie, trying to pull it off, rising until it reached his chest. When he finally realized what you were trying to do, he got on his knees and took it off, throwing it to the side. He quickly got closer again, the eye contact was so intense, making you just want to kiss him, but you couldn’t since he pinned your body at the bed.

“Are you sure about this? We could stop if you feel uncomfortable.” He asked while caressing your cheeks while still looking right into your eyes.

“Just kiss me.” His dark eyes slipped the intense gaze to your lips, making a insanely hot smirk form on his mouth. Now, he was closer than before, your eyes were already closed waiting for his lips to just attack yours, not much time after feeling his soft lips. His lips mashed against yours, like he wanted to destroy it, his hands on your waist trying to get you closer, he was so needy for you. His kiss was something else, you just met him but still felt so connected like he was the sun on your foggy day. Tracing your fingers on his abs, making him flinch from the cold touch of your thumbs. He slowly pulled away from the kiss.

“You’re so pretty.” He said making you open your eyes to look back at him. He licked his lips feeling the taste of your lipstick, letting out a ‘Hmm’ to the sweet flavor. He was still so close to your face, quickly getting his lips on your cheeks, leaving lots of kisses all over it making you giggle at the sudden action.

“Cute.” You moved your hands to his neck, caressing his scruff hair. You felt his body having shivering after the touch, laughing at his shocked face.

“Why are you laughing, brat?” His kisses got down to your neck, wet kissing and nibbling the soft skin, probably leaving hickeys too. Every time he breathed or bite on your neck, a low moan formed on your throat, making him gain even more courage to continue doing it.

“Fuck Jaemin.” His kisses traced from you neck to your collarbone, leaving a single hickey there and pulling his mouth away from your skin. He slide his body to the end of the bed, where your legs were. He spread it a little bit, pulling your skirt down, removing it a bit later. You let out a sight and a “I can explain.” while laughing.

“Why the hell you work without panties? Dude, that’s dangerous.” He laughed with you and moved his fingers from your groin to your cunt, softly touching your clit. The moment he did this your laugh was substituted to moans, neither loud or low, just normal ones from the unexpected touch.

“Shit, i wasn’t expecting that. Jeez, keep doing it.” He nodded and kept his fingers movements slow, he didn’t stopped looking at you even for a moment, he wanted to see all of your reactions. His mouth got closer to your pussy, pulling his fingers away and switching to his tongue. He kitty licked your clit at first and then he put all of his effort on his tongue. It was intense, his tongue was like you just got in heaven and it may sound strange but just in seconds you could say he was better than all of the other partners who eaten you, cause he focused on your pleasure and not his. He actually seemed like he was into eating pussy, it was tickling and incredibly good, you never had one like this. The waves of pleasure sending all over your body, like it was depending on his tongue to your body function. It was so good unlike anything you ever experienced, you felt the sensation not only on your vagina but in your whole body. The eye contact was essential to bring you even more close to your orgasm, such a great tongue, he wouldn’t stop until you cum for him. You felt light headed and your toes curled for the sensation appearing, a intense pleasure coming. Your belly warmed anticipating the orgasm, loud moans escaped from your mouth letting a “I’m gonna cum.” together in the middle of them. Finally feeling the orgasm hit in one of the last licks, your whole body felt the pleasure and you could only see stars. It was heavenly like.

“So fucking good.” You said while finally opening your eyes after recompose yourself. He smiled at you and took his belt off, moments later his pants and underwear were away too, making you secretly look at his pretty dick. It was so medium and thick, one of the most beautiful that you’ve ever seen.

“Like what you’re seeing, angel?” You realized you were staring too much, letting a chuckle out as you felt the heat on your face.

“Can we do it without a condom? I want to feel you.” You smiled at him waiting for a response which came not so long after. He nodded and stood up, grabbing your legs and pulling you to the end of the bed. He positioned himself in the middle of your two legs, he got one of your legs up, wrapping his hand on your elbow. With the other free hand he grabbed the basis of his dick and started pushing on your hole, making moans leave your mouth as the length passed. With all of it inside he started thrusting, slowly from the start, but as the time passed he fastened his movements. He was vocal just like you, every thrust you two moan in unison, it was indeed the best sex you’ve ever had. He adjusted himself to find a better position for both, getting the other leg on his shoulder. The moment he started thrusting again your eyes went blank, the head of his dick hitting your G-Spot every time, it was a pleasure that you couldn’t imagine that you could feel. He tilted his head from the pleasure he was feeling as well, it was so good and you felt so connected to him like you two dated for years and he knew exactly how you liked. Your loud moans made him even more horny, fastening his moves to make you cum again.

“Cum for me again baby, you looked so pretty when you came.” He told you and you couldn’t deny you wanted it as well, with all of the pleasure you were receiving from his dick hitting your spot you felt the tension being built in your stomach again. You closed your eyes anticipating for your orgasm, that suddenly hit you, you were sure he was going to get in trouble with his neighbors, cause your moans were so loud that echoed in his bedroom. He kept moving until he came as well. The hot load filling you entirely, such a great feeling. His moans were so pretty and hoarse, he was all you ever searched for. He deep breathed and pulled his length out of you, slowly getting in the bed again and laying by your side. You turned your face to the side so you could face him, a smile forming in both mouths. He got closer to you and moved his hands to your chin, leaving a warm peck to your lips.

“You’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.” He looked right into your eyes and blew a kiss in the air, making you both laugh at his stupidity.

“Can i stay here the rest of the night?” You moved your hads to his hair and messed it more than already was.

“Of course, baby.” He tilted your chin up to reach his mouth, kissing your lips sweetly and slowly, still feeling the flavor of your lipstick sometimes. Pulling away some minutes later, making you look at him again.

“And you’re all i ever wished for.” You whispered and chuckled at your cringe phrase. Him from the other side smiled and kissed your forehead, he let out a “Ownn.” after closing his eyes. It didn’t took so long for him to sleep, after all he was exhausted. You closed your eyes as well and grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers together. After some time you finally fell asleep.

[worminstuff]

birthday boy

a tbott blurb

sleepy bois x reader

wilburs 8th birthday!!

no warnings except maybe expect some feels:)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Wilbur woke up incredibly excited. How could he not? He was 8! His favorite number! And even better, today got to be all about him! Wilbur loved when that happens.

Kicking off his blankets and sheets he made his way to the kitchen to see Phil already at work on some waffles.

“Good morning birthday boy!” Phil exclaimed excitedly, putting down the bowl of batter he’d been mixing. He made his way over to will and gave him a big hug, picking him up.

“You’re so old. It’s mad! Seems like just the other day you we’re runnin round my ankles as a tiny gremlin! Never met a youngster as trouble as you were.” He poked Wilbur in the side giving him a grin, Wilbur giggled.

Phil set wilbur down, letting him make his way to the table. He watched his little boy take a seat and it had just barely dawned on him how old he was really getting.

He’d watched wilbur change so much over the years, and he loved him so much. He admired so much about him and he was as proud as a dad could get. Even with how much of a handful will could be.

“Happy birthday Wilby ” Techno spoke from the doorway. Techno had woken up, and joined the pair. His hair was a mess and his pjs were wrinkled. Techno lazily pushed a chair right up next to wilburs and climbed into it. Once he was up and in the chair he sat closely next to Will, leaning on him to congratulating him on his age again.

Phil stared at the pair for a moment. The two boys couldn’t be any more different, yet they somehow stuck to eachother like glue. Since Techno could walk, Wilbur was always around with him. Making sure he wasn’t doing anything bad (even though techno rarely was the type of child to reak any damaging havoc)

Phil wondered how they would be once they were older, if they’d still be close. He really hoped so.

Phil was well aware of technos shy antics, and he hoped he would grow out of them but he doubted it. Phil just hoped maybe wilbur would help him in that.

Techno had no problem talking to y/n, especially when they’d first met about 2 years prior.

But y/n was sort of different Phil figured, he was almost sure the boys thought of her as another sibling. One of them if you will.

Phil was just about to start pouring the waffles into the waffle iron when he took a quick glance at the boys. He was not expecting what he saw.

Wilbur had wrapped his arms around his little brother, who’s head was snug on his shoulder. Wilburs head rested on top of technos, and they were both sat so comfortably and contently.

Phil was baffled.

He wanted to take credit for their incredible bond, but how could he when it was all them. They were like two pieces to their own little puzzle.

All three of them are breakfast together once phil had finished making it, all talking about what will might want to do with his special day.

“Can we go to the bookstore?” Wilbur asked, looking up at his dad.

“Bookstore? Really? How come?” Phil wasn’t opposed, he was just a bit confused. Wilbur never really showed interest in reading, not the way techno had more recently.

“I need books.” Wilbur said, frankly. Almost as if Phil was just not getting the simple concept he was painting out for him.

Phil chuckled, “okay, but why?”

Wilbur huffed. Techno looked at him, almost blankly, his mouth full.

“I need new books to read techno, Dad.” Wilbur stated.

Phil was almost speechless. Techno barely reacted, not really processing what Wilbur had said.

Phil’s heart was about to explode, he’d expected wilbur to ask to go to the music store down town to see all the fun instruments, or ask to go to the candy store around there. Not a bookstore, and the fact it was for Techno? How was there no catch to this? How had he raised such great children?

“When he can’t sleep he cries and it’s kinda annoying, Dad.”

There it is.

Wilbur took another bite of his food as techno looked up, slightly embarrassed. Phil let out a laugh.

“Okay wilbur, we can go to the bookstore.” Phil shook his head.

^^^^^^^^^^^

Thesearesofuntowriteimsorry

[beatleszeppelin]

You're A … Inexperienced

Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience

Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol' time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 2.1k

Chapter 1: Truth

The night was off to a slow start since you and Daryl had taken watch. The sound of the chain link fence rattling in the wind served as a pendulum in the back of your mind. A chill in the late summer air made the concrete you used as a backrest cool to the touch. Both of you sat against the base of the watchtower on lookout, since the two with the regular shift were on a run.

“Know any games to play to stay awake?” You asked, slumped against a wall, and turning to look at Daryl, who was sitting cross legged, head rested in his hands.

“No,” he replied, “should get some cards or somethin’.”

“Yeah, next time we go into town.”

The night had become dark, no moonlight deciphered the sky from the inside of your eyelids. Time ticked on and before you knew it both of you had fallen asleep.

The rattle of the fence shocked you out of your sleep, and you saw an arm reaching through the fence trying to grab at you. Although a decent distance away, you could still see it’s skin peeled back up to it’s bicep; raw meat dangling behind the wires, so it could fit the exposed bone deeper through the fence.

The growling must have woken Daryl up, because by the time you were standing to go and kill the bloody thing, he had handed you his knife to use. You took it graciously and tiredly walked over to kill it, looking much like a zombie yourself.

Stabbing it through the eye, you could feel the pop of penetration to the skull, and with that it fell to the ground dead, fully dead. With all of its weight moving downwards, the force must have been too much, causing it’s limb to stay on the side of the fence opposite to it’s corpse. You hoped backwards as the appendage reached for your ankle, then shriveled up like the rest of its body.

Returning to your space adjacent to Daryl, you handed his knife back, and sat down breathing heavily.

“You rest, I won’t go back to sleep,” he said leaning on his hip to pull his red rag out from his back pocket. The knife you had used was laying on the ground next to him, beaded with blood.

“No way I’m getting back to sleep, I can hear my blood pounding in my ears.”

“Tell me if you need ta though, ‘cause I’m good,” He said, reassuring you.

You just shook your head and leaned against the wall, propping yourself up with a gun by your side.

You rolled your shoulders back every once in a while to stretch your back. Daryl mindlessly fiddled with a rock that he picked up off the ground. The sky was now dark and all of the stars in the night could be seen. Nothing like this would have ever been possible before. As the stars moved and passed with the coming hours, your tiredness from before seemed to return.

Neither of you had spoken in quite some time, which wasn't weird for you now that you have been taking shifts with Daryl for sometime. At first it was weird doing nothing with him, it was like he wasn't comfortable enough with you to converse, but now you know it's quite the opposite. You guys can communicate by means other than just talking. However, silence needed to be broken if you were going to keep him company until sunrise.

“I miss coffee,” you broke silence, plucking some grass and throwing it past your outstretched feet.

“Huh,” he snickered.

"I don't think I appreciated it before, I don't even remember drinking it that often."

"Don't even remember the last time I had it." He said and spun the little shiny rock he had in his grasp.

“I do,” you said.

He readjusted his position to be facing you holding his knees up to his chest with his chin rested on top. His head tilted down, but his eyes looked up at you to continue.

"Was a date, or not a date, but a meeting. I was out at a cafe, with the TA, for the psych class I was in. And he ordered for us, and after I explicitly told him to get almond milk, he didn't."

"Why?" Daryl asked with conviction.

"Because I'm lactose intolerant and I had to kick him out that night because my stomach hurt so bad." You picked a few sticks up from the ground and broke them into tiny pieces. The stick sprinkled across the ground, and disappeared in the surrounding weeds.

"Didn't mean why are you lactose intolerant, I meant why didn’t he get ya what ya wanted?" He furrowed his brow for a second.

“I don’t know, never thought about it, maybe he’d just forgotten or something. Doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even that good in bed.”

Daryl threw his special rock in the air and caught it swiftly. For just a second it had sparkled in the air, before he held it in his fist like he would never let it go.

“I bet you’ve been on bad dates, too.”

“Nah,” He said and threw his rock across the land and wrapped both his arms around his legs.

“What!? Okay, I guess your fucking perfect,” you said scoffing in a half joking manner.

“No, just didn’t go with too many people.” He mumbled.

“And all of them just happened to be great?” You questioned.

“Never said that,” He tucked his chin under his arms, that still rested on his knees, “I never went on any good ones neither.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe you didn’t date much, I mean, look at you,” you joked, but also couldn’t deny the genuine admiration that he evoked from the people that surrounded him.

“Nah, forget I ever said anythin’. Let’s just go back to sittin’ here.” He turned his head to the side in which the sun would eventually rise.

“No, please, I just came up with a game idea,” you begged.

“Hmm?” He glanced over.

“Truth or dare!” You exclaimed, failing your attempt of hiding your excitement.

“Nuh uh. Not subjecting myself to that shit,” he said tersely.

“Come on, I wanna know about these dates you didn’t go on, and you could dare me to do stupid shit in the mean time,” you said with your shoulders sagging.

“Ain’t gonna ask you nothin’,” he said stubbornly.

“Okay, then it’ll be one-sided truth.” You had as much enthusiasm as a little girl at a sleepover as you asked, “Truth or da…”

“Fine.”

“Okay, when was the last time you got drunk?” you started him off easy.

“Uh… CDC.”

“Wait, the CDC? Like the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta? How have I not heard about this before?” You asked. If this was the easy question,then this game may be more fun than you had previously thought.

“Yeah, stopped there, it’s gone now though,” he said nonchalantly.

“It’s gone? You would think it’d be better guarded or something.” You were astonished by the first question, and immediately got excited for the night to come.

“Blew up. My turn,” he said and pondered for a second, resting his chin on his palms like a winsome child. “What was his name?”

“Who’s name?” You wondered if this was what he was wasting his first question on.

“Coffee date guy,” he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“I don’t remember,” you shrugged.

“That ain’t how this game works,” he argued back with a pout.

“Okay fine, I think his name was Bryce,” you gave up.

“‘S a douchey name.”

“He was a douche… probably dead now.” You looked down at the weeds growing, plucking a few and tying them together, waiting for someone to speak. You looked over at Daryl, who was patiently waiting for his question. He actually looked like he wasn't completely hating this game.

You thought for a minute, wondering how you could crack the boy in front of you. After some thought you said, “What was your first date like?” It was the perfect question, because really you could not imagine what he’d say.

“I told you, never did that type of thing.” He brought his thumb up to his mouth and started rubbing his lip as he talked.

“Okay then, who was the first person you ever did anything romantic with?” you asked.

“‘S not romantic, but there was this one girl that Merle’d bring out drinking with us sometimes. Name was Candy or something.” He mumbled around his thumb.

“Aww, little 20 something Daryl going out with a girl named Candy,” you teased.

“Wasn’t 20, I musta been ‘bout 13 or 14,” he recalled.

“I thought you said you’d go out drinking together?”

“Yeah, we’d go to this bowling alley, ‘cause they don’t card, and they had a pool table and a back room, I used to pay Merle t’ get me drinks.”

“He have to buy her drinks too?” You questioned.

“Nah, she was ‘bout his age I think, and he’d never buy something for someone else,'' he looked off.

“Wait, she was his age, and they let you drink when you were just a kid?” You tried not to chide.

“Hey, ain’t it supposed to be my turn?”

“Sorry,” you stopped.

“You said you were in a psych class, was that what you were gonna be?” He looked interested, as he inquired, studying your face as he awaited your response.

You explained “That’s what I went to school for, but who knows, I minored in fine arts. Truth is I hated psychology, but my parents needed me to make money for myself, otherwise I could have lived happily as a broke artist. Doesn’t really matter now though,” you trailed off. “Speaking of, what were your parents like?”

“Mean, drunk, dead.” He put it bluntly.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t know. How old were you?"

"With my mom, I’s 9. I was out playing with kids from around where I lived. They were all on bikes and wanted to chase this fire engine trying to see somethin’ exciting. I ran behind, and when I caught up I realized it was my house that was on fire. My mom had been smoking in bed."

"I'm really sorry about that, I didn't know about your mom or anything." You looked at him genuinely, giving a sympathetic smile.

"Was a long time ago,” he shrugged off. “Now for you. What art did you do?"

“I drew, painted, took pictures, everything really.” You added kindly.

He tilted his head back until it hit the wall, he stretched out his legs, and looked up at the stars as he said, “I’ll have to see that sometime.” “It’s not like I still have any of them,” you said, perplexed at his interest.

“Oooh, who was your celebrity crush as a kid,” you asked, “like who did you have posters of above your bed?” “Ya’ know Blondie,” he looked over to get your reaction. As he saw you nod, he said “Yeah, had a Debbie Harry poster, ripped out from a magazine.”

You laughed, and the questions continued; some questions resulted in stories others sat in stillness. The morning was short to come as the warm glow of the sun peered over the trees, and chirping birds made themselves present.

“Okay, what was your first time like?” you pestered.

You were met with a second of awkward silence, before he stumbled over the phrases “ I never, I mean… I did, it wasn’t like that though.” He brought his thumb up to his mouth again.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re a…” he dipped his head down, and looked up at you through his hair. A sickly puppy could make your heart hurt any more, so you danced around your initial wording and asked “uhh, inexperienced?”

“Morning!” sang through the fields, and Daryl had been saved by the bell. Carol stood alongside Carl to take over for the morning shift, and relieve Daryl of his painted flush. She extended her hand out first to you, helping you up. Then to Daryl, letting the hand holding linger as she instructed for you guys to go get some rest.

The walk up was silent, but just before parting you joked with him “If you ever need some more experience, you know where my cell is.” You had said it quiet enough where he could ignore it, but you knew he heard it, because he silently split, seconds after you said it.

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: chapter threeeee here it is!!! hehe thank you all for being patient for this update and thank you as always for giving this fic your love!! i start out the first part of this chapter in 3rd person which is a lil different, but i wanted to try it out! hehe i love hearing what ya thought of the chapter too! 😊

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, skz side characters, 3rd person for the first section, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, mentions of food, brief talk of gaining weight while travelling, there’s a few spoilers hidden in this one...can ya find them? ;) 

CWs: blood and other wounds, shooting at a convenience store, thoughts about death and dying when in peril 

Word count: 5.6k 

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

Two years of pocket change and Seungmin had finally saved up enough money to afford to study abroad. It had nearly taken him life and limb, and he might’ve suffered (1) concussion from a bowl of soup being thrown at his head, but, he had done it. 

With grease stains on his sneakers Seungmin traversed the long and stretching corridor of the airport terminal with his backpack strapped onto him tightly. The air smelled different here. It was fresher than he was used to--coming from a large city center--everything here felt more pristine. Outside of the tall glass windows, airplanes lifted off into the sky like massive metal giants. He couldn’t remember properly, but the last time that he must’ve been on a plane, it likely had been when his mother...

Seungmin shook the dusty and cobwebbed ideas out from his head. 

No more sad thoughts. 

I’m gonna like it here. He thought to himself, then clipped the little buckle to his backpack straps over his chest with a determined huff. 

I’m really going to like it here. 

With his phone in hand, he tried his best to decipher what the signs said above him. Mostly, they looked like a jumbled mess of symbols, but luckily he had spent some time trying to learn the language between shifts and sneaking peeks at his little dictionary under the diner counter. The whole terminal buzzed with a lovely kind of energy, and he was thrilled to get to know it better. The first wonderful thing about travelling abroad was that no one knew who he was, and he could be whoever he wanted. In this new land, no one knew him or anything about the dingy little apartment that he had lived in. No one knew about his less than honorable roommates or the debt that he had put himself under to go to college in the first place. 

I could be a prince for all they know. 

Seungmin liked that idea a lot. 

His stomach grumbled as he passed by food stands, however he hadn’t had the chance yet to change his currency, so he knew that he would have to wait just a minute longer. Seungmin had been assigned a host family by his college, and he hoped like crazy that they would be the kind to cook for him. Seungmin had heard somewhere that kids who go on study abroad gain a ton of weight at first...but he didn’t mind. Where else would he get the chance? 

There had been a host father that had sent him an email a couple weeks ago--that he promptly had to run through Google Translate--who told him that he would meet him outside the main luggage claim area after his flight landed. Seungmin had tried to look up and see if his host family were on social media, but he could find no such profile of theirs. He decided it probably was better that it was a surprise. 

Seungmin lugged his two large suitcases out to the summer air of the new and strange land, and it finally hit him. Standing on the solid ground of another land thousands of miles away from his home, it was really all happening. 

The landscape outside was like that of a movie scene: rolling hills and jagged mountains capped with snow, adorable little homes built into the countryside and tiny cars with horizonal license plates. The sun was warm in the cerulean sky that puffed with perfectly white clouds. On the air, the scent of flowers wafted, and he was certain that there was a lake nearby too--he had researched it. There were old men in their caps with a crook in their back, and ladies with long floral skirts and dresses with Mary Janes. Each of them had smile lines on their faces and under their eyes as if they had all lived lives well lived. There were pretty girls too with slender legs and delicate arms swaddled in light scarves. 

Seungmin wouldn’t have minded getting a girlfriend on this trip. While he kept the fact to himself, Seungmin had never really done anything with a girl before outside of some awkwardly handsy kissing in middle school. Maybe this time around, he would finally get his chance: he had read somewhere that girls often like foreigners. 

“Seung Min! Seung Min?” A man’s voice called. 

The young college student whipped his head around in the direction of the sound, finally finding a middle aged man with salt-and-pepper hair with whiskers of the same color. He had red cheeks and a large nose, and looked a bit like a character from a comic. Seungmin waved back, greeting his new father. When they met, the older man threw him into a large hug with a chuckle. He smelled a bit like Tabaco and old leather. He had a couple missing teeth, but that didn’t lessen his bright smile. 

“English?” Seungmin’s host father asked. 

“Yeah! I can speak English.” He returned with a welcoming grin. 

“I thought it would be good for us to speak English since I don’t know your tongue and you don’t know mine...meet in the middle?” 

“Thank you for coming to get me!” He said, handing the man his suitcases which were just a bit too big for the tiny trunk of the car that looked as if it had come from the 80′s. In the end, they decided to put his bags in the backseat. 

The man beamed with smiling eyes. “Of course...son!” 

Seungmin gave him a little bow, “Heh, thank you.”

“Get in the car! You must be hungry right? Long flight?”

“Oh yes, it was really long.” 

“You will eat well here! Mother knows how to feed well. She will put meat on your bones. She did with me!” He guffawed out with hearty laughter, and Seungmin already knew that he would really like this man. 

“We have a room ready for you back at home, and I will show you tomorrow how to use the buses. Okay?” 

Seungmin nodded with a bit of rose to his cheeks. He found his hand wandering down to his arm which he pinched at lightly--cliché as it was. His host father coughed and the engine sputtered, then they took off away from the sounds of jet engines to the countryside which was scattered with churches with protruding steeples and all kinds of homes with red-orange roofs and perfectly symmetrical windows. Seungmin couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued to the window as they drove on to take in the whole scene. Never had he seen a place so beautiful or magical looking. They drove on past a crystal clear lake that stretched on and on to the base of a mountain appearing to claw at the heavens, and adorned in emerald green pines and other deciduous trees. If it was even possible, he had never seen greener grass in all his life. 

“Beautiful, eh?” His host father said while tuning the radio. 

“It’s amazing.” The young student said in his amazement. “Oh, do you know if there is somewhere I can change my money? I don’t have any of your money yet.” 

“Ah!” The older man said with a wink. “I know of a place. I can take you there first.” 

The radio hummed with a static fuzz as Seungmin’s host father messed with it, skipping over the channels, blurring the music and the talk radio all together. 

Seungmin tried out the best he could to make out the words he knew, but even then he didn’t focus too hard, not when he had all this to take in. 

Mad....crime....joke...violence in the South...drugs...unknown...information...hiding...red... 

“Ah!” His host father called out after changing the channel once more, “I love this song!” He held his chest with an affectionate grasp. “The song of my homeland!” 

Seungmin whipped his attention back, trying to listen to the song that sounded anthem-like, and was sung by what sounded like several men harmonizing. Seungmin tried to focus on the melody--it was nothing like he head heard before. It sounded very...honorable. 

The small car whipped up to what looked to be a gas station on the edge of the town with one single pump and a little convenience store attached to it. In the window he read the yellow and black sign saying Currency Exchange. 

“This is what you need?” 

Seungmin nodded in his thanks then stretched his legs out once he exited, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Are you coming too?” 

The older man shook his head and took out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ll gas the car, you go in.” 

The young man gave his host father one more nod, then set fourth inhaling the immaculate summer air into his lungs. It was as if the very oxygen there held the vitality of life; he almost felt bad wasting it on himself. 

The door swung open with the tiny tinkling of bells and he entered to the smell of cured meats hanging on hooks along side the dry scent of the refrigerators holding their display of soft drinks with labels that he had never seen before. He chuckled a little seeing the giant slab of meat with twine hanging from the ceiling as such. 

“Free sample?” The attendant said while he picked his teeth with a toothpick. “Foreigner?” He added after looking Seungmin up and down. 

“Yes, and no thank you. But, can I exchange my currency here?” 

The unamused man nodded in the direction of the little kiosk in the corner of the shop. He went back to reading his tabloid where he slumped in a stool surrounded by an assortment of candy and cookies. 

Seungmin picked his mother tongue first on the little screen, robotic and green, thankful to see Korean for the first time in this new place. He navigated to the options screen. Behind him, the little bells tinkled to the shop door again, followed by the sound of the attendant scrambling out of his stool, metal legs scraping the floor. 

The student turned his head around in the commotion, taking in four very strange looking customers. Firstly, they were all covered in blood in one way or another, and each of them wore clothes--pajamas from the looks of it--which were shredded, torn, and blackened by something that might’ve been soot. Three men and one woman, and they all had a bit of a crazed look to their eyes. Clearly, none of them cared that they had walked into the store looking as such. 

Seungmin pressed his body to the corner of the shop, as if this could make him invisible. The attendant cowered behind the counter with a series of scared sounding whimpers. 

“Wh-what do you want?” He asked in his native tongue with quaking breaths. 

One of the men in the group wearing a flannel with chocolate brown hair threw open one of the fridges, took out a water bottle, cracked it open, then greedily slugged the liquid down his throat. 

“Pay the man, Fox.” He said to a man with pure white hair and shattered glasses. 

The man with white hair and glasses nodded, digging through his pockets. The man with the flannel then proceeded to revenge the place, opening up snacks and shoving the cheesy dust into his mouth with gluttonous moans and crunching loudly with an open mouth. Had he not been doing something as unsavory as such, Seungmin thought that he was pretty handsome, and somewhat familiar. The other three simply stood and watched as he did so calmly, and surveyed the shelves themselves after a moment. 

The attendant clocked Seungmin with fearful and confused eyes and Seungmin truly didn’t know what to do besides melt into the corner with the currency exchange kiosk. 

A man in running clothes ran a hand through his deep brown hair, then turned to grab several first-aid supplies in his hand. Seungmin noticed that he had a horrible gash over his eye that crusted and bled into the white of his sclera. The woman approached the attendant with arms crossed over her thin camisole that was stained a number of different colors which Seungmin didn’t want to identify. He noticed that she was only wearing white socks that were nearly stained green. 

“You do currency exchange right?” She said with a bold kind of confidence. “EGP?” 

The attendant shook in his boots, then pointed a trembling finger at Seungmin. The young man nearly felt his heart stop. The woman had stern eyes that were bagged with exhaustion, but that didn’t make her any less intimating. While she too looked a wreck, there was something about her so cold and threatening that Seungmin felt like crumpling up into a ball. Over it all, she was startlingly beautiful too. 

“Are you done?” She asked him kindly, and Seungmin struggled to get out a feeble “yes.” Of course, he hadn’t actually drawn any money out yet, but this seemed to be the best answer. 

The man in running clothes dumped a large arrangement of goods on the counter with an emotionless expression: coffee drinks, shooters of alcohol, gauze and tape, Band-Aids, anti-bacterial ointment, gum, a couple lighters and toothpaste with four tooth brushes, combs, several bottles of water, sour candy, and, oddly, condoms. 

The man with white hair came behind him to provide the cash to pay, and the attendant rang the odd group up with nervous glances to the man in the flannel who destroyed the store further. That man laughed maniacally as he popped open the plastic packaging to a pastry, then shoved in as of much of it as he could, smearing white cream over his lips. 

“Bee!! You have to try this!! A day driving through the woods and this is fucking fantastic!” He jumped up and down like an ecstatic toddler--but this was a strange juxtaposition to all the blood staining his arms and the fabric of his flannel. 

“Have some decency, Your Highness.” The woman chided, then held out her hand as the bills dispensed from the little machine. 

“Your Highness?” Seungmin muttered, not really understanding why he was still in there in the first place. 

“Fucking scam.” She muttered. “Is this all that you have??” She growled at the attendant. 

“It’s a little thing!! What do you expect??” He stammered with hands thrown in the air as if she had pointed a gun at his head. 

“F, tell Carroll to wire us when we get to Egypt. This’ll barely get us a place to stay.” 

“When I get internet access, sure, I’ll try my best.” The man with white hair said with an edge to his voice, sarcasm clearly giving it a type of bite. He then took to shoving all of their goods into plastic bags since the attendant had been too fearful to do so. He slid a few spare bills onto the countertop. “This is for everything that he ate.”  

“Do you have a bathroom?” The woman demanded, and the shopkeeper nodded, giving one more fearful glance to the college student. 

“Is there somewhere around here to get clothes?” The man with running clothes asked. 

“I-In town, a couple minutes in--” 

Outside of the little store, the sound of tires screeching on cement screamed, and all four of the strangers whipped their heads in the direction. Seungmin jumped too at the sound, and held his backpack to his chest tightly as if it were some kind of safety vest. 

The four strangers gravely exchanged terrified glances before throwing their bodies to the floor without a word. 

“GET DOWN!” The woman screamed, and in milliseconds, the rapid-fire crack of machine gun bullets came shattering the glass of the convenience store. 

Seungmin too threw all of his weight to land on his stomach on the cold linoleum floors and pressed his cheek against it while his ears rang. Tiny shards of glass pricked at his hands, but this adrenaline didn’t even let him feel the pain. He was certain that he must’ve been hyperventilating, because the room had started to spin among the relentless sounds of metal shells hitting the ground and metal shelves being upended from the force. The room filled with the smell of dozen different kinds of foods as packaging was ripped open and food and drink came spilling to the ground. The shopkeeper whimpered out loud prayers in his native tongue while he hid behind the counter. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as three of the strangers whipped out hand guns from their waistbands and knelt down behind the remaining shelves to shoot back at the black van outside. 

Seungmin pinched his arm with eyes shut. 

He wished he hadn’t. 

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He bit the words into his lip. 

“Hey kid!” The man with white hair growled at him. “You okay?” 

While the two of them looked nearly to be the same age, this other man with snow white hair seemed to know what he was doing, so Seungmin decided to take the smallest bit of solace in that over the deafening sound of bullets. 

“I-I think so?!” 

“Keep your head down!” He said with gritted teeth, then angled his gun with a squinted eye. 

“Bee??? Bee?” The fourth man with the flannel cried. 

“Head. Down.” She said while firing more shots. 

The room filled with a thin haze, and Seungmin covered his ears with bloody fingers. 

The strangers fired their guns until there was nothing left, then escaped hiding behind the shelves with heaving chests. The young man had curled up into the fetal position, mouth feeling deathly dry with hot tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Seungmin didn’t know that he had gone on this trip for his life to end. 

How fucking cruel fate was. 

His body shook, and he clung to his bag for dear life, waiting for it all to end, and for his time to come. Seungmin would’ve thought that in the moments before he had died, he wanted to think of all the good things that had happened in his life, but, he was disappointed to find that all he could come up with was fear. 

“Did you get a look at him?” One of the strangers yelled on the other side of Seungmin’s muffled ears. 

“NO!” One of them barked back. 

“He was wearing the crest!! The red!!” The woman called out. 

The world was black behind his eyelids, but anything was better than the scene that was actually unfolding before the terrified college student. Soon, the sounds faded, and Seungmin was then really convinced that it had finally happened. This was it. He was even still scared to open his eyes. 

A grip at his arm pulled him up. 

“You okay? They’re gone. You kinda blacked out there for a second.” It was the woman had pulled him up to his feet. 

His head spun seeing the carnage of the destroyed store, and the student became dizzier by the second. 

“I-I think I’m about to black out again--” His knees felt week and his vision blurred. 

“Hey! Hey!” One of the other strangers, the one with the running clothes scooped him back up and gave a light pat to his face. “You’re alright! See?” 

Miraculously, Seungmin really was unscathed. 

“Who-who are you? Who...who the hell were they? What the FUCK was that?” 

The four of them exchanged glances once more, communicating some kind of silent understanding between all of them. 

“What’s your name kid?” The white-haired one said as he put his gun back into his waistband. 

“S-Seungmin?” 

“Ok Seungmin, there’s a lot going on here that you really shouldn’t be aware of, and there's a lot of answers that I can’t give you, I just need to to trust me, alright?” 

“O-okay?” 

Now that the shop was devoid of windows, the summer breeze came blowing into the store--an odd contrast to the mess that was made all over the glass shards and food. 

“You’re safe now. They’ve gone. No one can hurt you.” 

“A-are you sure about that?” 

“We need to get going. I don’t know why the hell they leaved when they had us cornered, but we can’t be here for long.” The man in running clothes said with a tentative bite to his lip. 

The woman nodded. “You’re right Two.”

“What do we do with him though?” The man supposedly named Two said, motioning to Seungmin. 

“D-do?” His eyes widened to frightful full moons. “D-do????” 

“We take him with?” The man in the flannel suggested and shrugged. 

The woman rolled her eyes. “You don’t call the shots on stuff like this, Your Highness.” 

“H-Highness? What??” Seungmin blabbered. 

The man with white hair snatched the young student’s bag from his hands. “You got a laptop in that bag of yours?” 

“--H-HEY!” 

He man pulled out Seungmin’s dismal Chromebook that he had also saved several months for. 

“Hm. This will do.” 

“I guess we don’t have any other choice...” The woman rolled her eyes. “Introductions later. They could be coming back.” 

“Hey, HEY!” The shopkeeper yelled, then rose from his hiding place to look in despair at his destroyed shop, and his aging cured meat slab stuck with bullet holes on the floor. 

“We’ll take care of it all. We apologize.” The man in the flannel bowed deeply. 

Sunlight stung Seungmin’s strained eyes, and he realized that he had completely forgotten about his host father in his little car from the 80′s. To his surprise, the little car was nowhere to be seen. 

“M-my dad??” He said under his breath, also realizing that all of his belongings had gone with the man too. All he now had left to his name was his passport, a spare set of clothes, his laptop, and a couple school journals. 

“Get in.” The man named Two said while throwing open the door, but then gave him squinted wink. “Been to Egypt before?” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“This mission is fucked.” Jeongin muttered to you, voice echoing slightly in the cobblestone alley. 

“Yeah, it certainly seems like it.” 

You fiddled with you new blouse. It was two times as itchy as you had expected and two times as expensive, but you had been desperate. With all of the spare supplies destroyed in the bombing, you and your partner had found yourselves hopelessly empty handed. 

“Carroll is gonna have our asses. Fuck...” Jeongin slicked a hand through his hair with a bandaged arm. “We can’t take that kid to Egypt with us!! We already have to be on high alert for the prince...and now this??” 

Your partner threw his head back incredulously against the brick wall, then stopped to watch the rest of the group sitting outside of the café and garnering odd glances from passerby's. 

“Well what the hell else to do we do??” 

Jeongin shrugged, then looking to the side shamefully. “You...know what the protocol is. We can’t stay here to watch over him until someone from the agency comes...and, we’re running out of time...White Rabbit is waiting for our correspondence..” 

“Absolutely not.” 

The poor young kid, naïve as he was, you couldn’t but help but feel bad for him. Not only was he all alone out there as he had explained, it appeared as if his host father had made off with all of his things too. It was hard to not pity the kid. 

“Y/n, you know that he’ll only drag us down. If we take him with, his life becomes our problem. If he dies, we’ll have to answer to whoever his family is and we both know that could get messy. We already have a mission: get the intel, then get the prince home. Not take that kid along with us for the joyride.” 

“You’re forgetting that they’ve seen him with us now. He’s associated with us. If we leave him in the dust, there’s gonna be an innocent kid dead in a foreign land, and it’ll be our fault for letting that happen. Do you want that to happen?” 

Your partner sucked at his teeth in thought for a moment, then groaned out. 

“I really fucking hate this babysitting thing.” 

“It’s the three of us and the two of them. The odds are still pretty much in our favor.” 

“It’s still dangerous odds.” Jeongin threw his hands onto his hips, then paced the length of the alley for a small stretch. “As of now, you’re assigned to the prince. Forget about the kid, Two and I will worry about him. The prince is the priority. If shit hits the fan, don’t even think twice, take the prince and get out. Okay? You should never leave his side.” 

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sneaky sense of pride. After all of the chaos and the uncertainty, Jeongin was really coming into his own. 

From the little patio where the others were, it looked as if Chan and Seungmin were getting a long swimmingly. You assumed that it had something to do with shared trauma. Weirdly, Chan had taken to the young man like a bit of a pet. Knowing all that the prince was going through, it made sense...perhaps this also could’ve explained why he had kissed you more than once. Anyone in his position would’ve acted as frantic as such--at least, this was what you had convinced yourself. 

Two sat with the two men wearing thick black sunglasses to hide his gnarly eye wound, sipping espresso. Jeongin started walking back towards the group when you grabbed at his arm. 

“--Wait, I need to talk to you about one more thing?” 

Your partner’s rather gaudy Hawaiian-themed shirt flapped in the breeze. “What’s that?” 

You drew him in closer. “What do you make of Two? He doesn’t strike you as suspicious?” 

“Suspicious? Why?” 

“I-I don’t know...it’s just a feeling that I’m getting. We know next to nothing about him--” 

“--But isn’t that how this goes? We’re not supposed to know things about each other? That’s the point? He’s stuck with us this far...and...” 

A couple passed by the two of you with linked arms, and Jeongin stopped his thought out of distrust of the two of them listening in. 

His voice lowered even further, “If Carroll trusts him, so should we.” The young man nodded, then patted your scratched shoulder. You winced, and he quickly apologized. “It’s...fine that you’re suspicious. Its best for us to be, you know?” 

“Expect the unexpected?” 

Your partner dished out a little eyeroll, “Yeah. Something like that.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It was as if His Royal Highness Prince Chan had never seen the inside of a public airport before. Everything was just so novel to him, and he gasped out at all the little trinkets and tchotchkes. 

As excited as he was, he still tried his best to keep a solid composure under his disguise: a cap, a hoodie, and thick framed sunglasses. The royal didn’t look the most non-descript, but you figured that it was better than nothing. 

The young kid sulked seeing the inside of the airport once more, as he had claimed that he had just left from there. You still didn’t know what to make of him all the way, but at least you could tell that he had a good heart. While in the car he told you and your companions how he had saved up all this money to travel, studied the language and arranged to go to school here too. While all of his plans had been thwarted, at least the kid was still getting to travel...with a price on his head...but still...he was getting to travel. 

Now that Jeongin had been able to contact HQ thanks to the kid’s computer, everything was arranged. Flight tickets, sleeping arrangements, supplies and Bun even knew that you were on your way. You had little desire to see that man considering how you had heard that he was one to live up to his eccentric reputation, but there was little other choice. Jeongin’s words ran through and through your head, “If Carroll trusts him, so should we.” 

Over it all, it was the prince who had worried you most. He was out in the open, and undoubtedly whoever those bastards were with the red crests would be close on your tail. Your neck strained with a pain that only seemed to grow stronger with every corner that you turned to ensure that no one was there. While the handsome prince liked to joke about how his life was on your hands, it was much more serious than that. 

You had seen the fear in his eyes that night--it was so tangible that you could practically hold in your hands. He was a man terrified of death, and he knew that he had little control over it. You had control over it, but you knew that you could only stretch yourself so far. 

Your group of five neared your gate in the international terminal lined with several dozen different kinds of multi-colored flags. You situated yourself between Two and the Prince on one of the thin teal chairs with flattened cushions. Chan tapped his hands on this knees impatiently as he inspected the place. 

“Kind of exciting isn’t it?” He said with a tiny grin. 

“What?” You moved to look at him with his obscured features. “Exciting?” 

“Yeah, you know, travelling together. It kind of feels like an adventure. I mean, they’ve got a gun to our heads, but at least we’re together right?” 

You scoffed, simply amused at how he had taken the severity out of the situation. It was clear that this prince knew little about the concept of perspective. 

“I’m not following.” 

“I get that...we need to be careful, but who said that we can’t, say, enjoy the journey?” 

“You’re saying that you want us to have fun while we’re running for our lives?” 

The prince smiled. “You know that I like having fun. That and...I’m just trying to be optimistic.” Under his cap, he slicked his brown strands back. “The three of you seem to be so tense all the time. Obviously, that can’t be good for your health--” 

You cracked out with laughter. “You’re being ludicrous, Your Highness. We have to be on high alert at all times--” 

“I said, that you could call me Chan, remember?” He rather languidly spread out his legs in his seat, removing his glasses for moment. “How about, when we go to Egypt, I take you out somewhere nice to eat? We can relax, talk, get to know eachother more--” 

You raised your hand up to silence him. “--If this is just a ploy to get me alone, I politely rescind the offer. Here I was thinking that you were concerned about all three of us...” 

“--I am!” Chan quickly piped, “I-I’ll take you all out for dinner! But...but...you’ll have to allow me to take you out for drink then. Just the two of us. I still hold to my word of wanting to get to know you.” 

The prince’s face was puffed and bloated, and scraped with little pink and red cuts, but nothing stopped him from pulling out his signature charming and persuasive grin. 

“Try to kiss me again, and I won’t hesitate. You might be royalty but I don’t ca--” 

“--Hmmm no promises.” Chan then cut in, his grin turned even more indulgent while you watched him inspect your frame in that god-awful scratchy blouse. 

Next to you, Two let out a particularly amused sounding scoff of a laugh. 

“Forward as ever, Your Highness.” Jeongin deadpanned, then buried his nose in his coffee and newspaper once again. He hadn’t gotten to finish doing so earlier. 

Seungmin, the young student stifled his own laughter which then gradually got louder and louder. “I can’t fucking believe this. Me. Kim Seungmin, the most normal-ass person in the whole world with you four: a fucking prince, secret agents...and now we’re going to Egypt??? Egypt???” 

“Why does that sound like the set up to a shitty joke?” Two popped a bubble he had blown with the gum from the convenience store. Turns out he actually had a bit of a “gum habit” as he called it. 

“Settle down kid.” Jeongin said without his eyes leaving his paper. “You’ll make a scene.” 

The prince yawned, sliding his sunglasses back on. 

“I never really did end up getting as much sleep as I would’ve liked.” If you could’ve seen his eyes, you would’ve then seen him eye your shoulder. “May I?” he politely asked. 

Rather than giving him an answer, you rolled your head around as if to say do I need to? 

Chan let out a happy little hum after resting his head on your shoulder, nuzzling in slightly. 

You met your partner’s side eye, and he repeated for you, I really fucking hate this babysitting thing. 

“Thank you Bee.” Chan softly muttered, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I really do owe you everything.” He was careful at first, but he reached out his hand to rest it atop of yours. While the action made you twitch at first, you remembered how the same action had calmed him in the van when you had escaped the gala. 

You told yourself that you were just being nice. 

The young kid pulled out a journal from his backpack and started scribbling something, Two popped a bubble, snapping it on his unnaturally white teeth, and Jeongin sipped at his coffee. 

This really was the set up to a shitty joke. 

A woman cleared her throat over the intercom and announced, Flight C1180 to Cairo will be boarding in one hour. Thank you for flying with us today. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: ‘Til the Last Petal Falls Ch 9

AN: So this chapter’s gonna be an interlude from the castle. This chapter focuses mainly on the tavern scene when the villagers cheer Gaston up after his failed proposal. 

So this chapter takes place a few hours after Snowball’s ruined proposal, so we’re backtracking a little in terms of timeline. 

Some language in this, but it’s Slappy and we all know she’d say fuck if they’d allow her too. 

Ch 9: The Feast

As with all sleepy little villages with not much going for it, aside from the humbling presence of the oh so benevolent and majestic presence of Prince Snowball, gossip was rampant among those who didn’t have anything better to do with their time. 

Slappy Squirrel didn’t care about gossip. People in this town had way too much to say and so little of actual importance at the same time. She operated strictly on a ‘leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone’ mantra. 

And she especially didn’t care for that annoying Candie Chipmunk gossiping to her posse while casually dropping a piece of trash into Slappy’s garbage can. 

Again. 

“-he’s crazy! That mouse needs to be brought back to reality, I’m telling you. Our gracious prince could straighten him out. It’s generous of him to take the time to help out, but Pinky is too ungrateful to realize it,” Candie whined in her high-pitched, grating voice. The other women in her group nodded their agreement.  

Slappy snatched up the broom she always stashed by the door for occasions like these. Throwing the door wide open with a resounding thud, she hurled the broom at the group, who shrieked and scattered like roaches. 

“Get off my property if ya know what’s good for ya!” Slappy shouted at the women’s fleeing backs. “Take your trash too! And I ain’t talking about the can!” 

The neighbors were the worst in this village. Always trying to idly chit-chat while she just wanted to run her errands as quickly as possible and get out so she didn’t have to deal with anyone else for the rest of the days and always dropping their trash onto her property. 

But the most annoying thing was their blind worship of Prince Snowball, who’d somehow endeared himself as a savior to this backwater village. 

Snowball did this, Snowball’s gonna make an announcement, yadda yadda yadda. 

He was just an arrogant blowhard who thought he was better than the rest of them because he was royalty. Slappy had seen enough of his ilk in her lifetime, and though Snowball was ambitious, he lacked the same influence and power King Salazar had when he invaded Warnerstock. 

Hopefully, it would stay that way. 

The only decent neighbor was Pinky, who was always willing to lend a helping hand, perhaps a little too willing at times. But more importantly, he helped out with Skippy, especially when Slappy found herself exhausted from trying to keep up with his energetic nature. Maybe Skippy should’ve had playmates his age, but he seemed to prefer hanging out with Pinky than playing with the other village children. 

Skippy was often prone to tears, and the other children loved goading him into crying. Though Slappy had no qualms about beating those little brats upside the head, Skippy was very much against it. 

Somehow he’d convinced himself that if she retaliated, he’d be taken away forever and have to go live in an orphanage where he’d be forced to eat creamed spinach and inedible gruel for the rest of his life. 

Though she was admittedly more miffed that he thought creamed spinach was a punishment, being forcibly separated was a very real concern for both of them. 

Skippy was a cheeky rascal, but she couldn’t imagine living in this tree without him. 

A cold wind blew, and her joints started to ache with the chill. It was starting to grow dark with a thick cloud cover. Tiny flakes of snow were already starting to fall. 

An early winter this year. It would be murder on her back. 

Her trusty broom was out of reach, and she didn’t feel like retrieving it. 

“Skippy!” she shouted. “I had to throw my broom at some yahoos and I need you to get it for me! I’m too old to get it myself!” 

True to his name, Skippy hopped down the stairs. “So you’re too old to pick up a broom but you can wield a hundred ton mallet just fine?” he asked. 

Slappy shrugged. “I have elder privileges. Someday you’ll be taking advantage of those too.” 

“Spew! I don’t wanna get old yet!” Skippy spat, sticking out his tongue in disgust. 

“Well too bad, Peter Pan. Now hurry up and get my broom before we become icicles,” Slappy said, nudging him onto the doorstep. 

A shiver traveled through Skippy’s body, his fur poofing out until he looked like a large brown cotton ball. He clutched his fluffy tail like a makeshift scarf and dashed over to the fence, picked up the broom, and ran back in record time. 

Slappy shut the door behind him as he ran back inside, teeth chattering all the while. He quickly put the broom back in its corner and headed straight to the fireplace to warm up. 

Hopefully, no more annoying neighbors now that it was snowing. Dusting off her hands with satisfaction, Slappy headed towards the small kitchen to start dinner. 

She opened the cupboards to see what they had, only to come up with several cans of creamed spinach, baby carrots, and some moldy thing in the back which might’ve been a sandwich once. A spider crawled along a cobweb on the side. 

That was everything? She could’ve sworn they had more than this. 

Then again, she didn’t remember when she last went to the market. All the best stuff was sold early in the morning, and one had to jump out of bed as soon as the rooster crowed so they’d have a chance of getting the best cuts of meat or the freshest dairy. 

For most of the village, it was no issue. 

But for Slappy, all she wanted to do was stuff a stick of dynamite down the rooster’s throat so she could get some shuteye. 

She usually sent Skippy out with a grocery list and enough money, figuring she should probably try to be a responsible guardian and let Skippy have some degree of independence. 

Mostly she just wanted to stay in bed for a while longer, because Skippy was a fuzzball of energy in the morning. 

They had the huge basket of acorns PInky had delivered earlier, but while they were delicious, they didn’t equal a full meal. 

So they didn’t have anything. Maybe they could head over to Pinky’s house? It was all the way across town, but Pinky wasn’t a half-bad cook. Give him any recipe with cheese and he could whip out a dish so tasty it would make even the snootiest French chefs jealous. 

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t cooperating tonight. So that was out. 

“So what’s for dinner, Aunt Slappy?” Skippy asked, rocking back and forth on his toes. 

“Creamed spinach with a side of baby carrots and acorns,” Slappy said. She pulled the cans out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. “This is what I get for not stocking up on groceries.” 

“Awww,” Skippy wrinkled his nose. “Do we have to?” 

Slappy shrugged as she opened the can and plopped the creamed spinach on a plate. Skippy plugged his nose and recoiled at the wet sock odor that emitted from the soggy vegetables. “Have it your way, kiddo. All veggies for you, veggies and your share of acorns for me.”

“WHAT?” Skippy shrieked, his voice cracking even though he was nowhere near puberty yet. “That’s…that’s cruel and unusual punishment, Aunt Slappy! You’re violating my rights as a citizen! And also committing a war crime!” 

Kids. So dramatic these days.

“You’re in France, Skippy. You don’t have any rights, even if you were a citizen,” Slappy replied. 

“Then I’ll just have to get some!” Skippy shouted. “Vive la revolution!” 

To prove his point, he crunched a mouthful of acorns, proving once and for all that he was an unscrupulous rebel against the tyrannical regime that denied him the pleasant crunch of acorns. 

Before Slappy could open the sack of baby carrots, there was a harsh knock on the door.

“Open up, in the name of Prince Snowball!” a voice rasped.

“And speaking of violating rights…” Slappy sighed. Was a little privacy too much to ask? Damn nosy villagers. “Alright Skip Valskip, go tell ‘em to buzz off.”��

“Okay, Aunt Slappy!” Skippy cheerfully bounced towards the door. From the kitchen, she listened to the old oak door creak open. “Aunt Slappy says to buzz off!” 

Kiddo, you’re never gonna scare ‘em off that way, Slappy thought. She really needed to teach him the proper way to respond to unwanted visitors. 

Whoever was at the door cleared their throat pompously. 

“I have been ordered by our prince to personally escort your aunt to the local tavern for our grand feast tonight. He has an important announcement and requires at least one representative from every household to be in attendance. Move aside, kid. Where is she?” 

Slappy slammed the sack of carrots onto the counter. That voice belonged to Thaddeus Plotz, a squat old man with an annoying penchant for cozying up to anyone with a little bit of power. He seemed to think of himself as Snowball’s right hand man, though Snowball found it convenient to push any undesirable or tedious tasks onto him. 

While Skippy could handle someone like Candie just fine on his own, he wasn’t ready to get rid of persistent folk like Plotz yet. She’d have to step in and show him how it was done.

She marched over to the front door, took up her broom, and walloped Plotz on top of his balding head. He swayed in place, tongue sticking out in a goofy manner. 

“That’s how ya do it, Skippy,” Slappy said as she handed the broom over to him. “Now you try it.” 

Skippy gripped the broom by its handle, looking up at her with those big, adoring eyes. 

“Alright, cut the cute and focus,” Slappy said, and Skippy thankfully turned to face Plotz, who was still out of it. She always had this weird, mushy feeling when Skippy looked at her like that. “Spread your feet. Hands further apart on the handle. Firm grip, rear back, now smack him like a pinata!” 

Skippy walloped Plotz in the stomach, and the man was knocked flat on his back, wheezing for breath. 

The blow wasn’t nearly as painful as it would be if Slappy had delivered it, but for a first-timer, it was pretty decent. 

“Not bad,” Slappy remarked, and Skippy grinned back. 

She was about to shut the door when Plotz’s foot caught in the frame before it could close completely.  

“Wait…there’s free food…plenty of venison and wild boar sausage…” Plotz mumbled. 

He just wouldn’t give up, would he? Slappy didn’t care if she cut his damn foot off while she closed the door, but Skippy tugged at her elbow insistently. 

“Aunt Slappy, there’s free food! Sausages!” Skippy begged, and she could practically see him salivating at the promise of tastier food. “Please can we go?” 

“And deal with his royal pain in the ass? I don’t think so.” Slappy folded her arms, belatedly realizing that semi-responsible guardians probably shouldn’t swear in front of their charges. “Damn it. Don’t repeat that word, Skippy.” 

Skippy just turned on the big, watery eyes. 

“The sad puppy look won’t work on me, kid,” Slappy said. “Been around the block too many times to fall for that trick.” 

And then the little brat’s mouth quivered. 

Slappy’s eye twitched. She and her peers in her old troupe used to pull the sad trick all the time on unsuspecting people, who were never able to resist, especially if Bugs Bunny was involved. Something about the ‘poor wittle wabbit’ look caused everyone to surrender their coin purses and food immediately.  

She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end though. 

A tear threatened to slip out of Skippy’s eye. 

“GAH! Okay, we’ll go to the feast, just quit with those tears already and clean yourself up!” Slappy shouted, unable to take it much longer. She hoped Bugs and Skippy never teamed up, or they could rob the entire country of France with that scam, heck, they’d rob all of Europe and get away with it. 

“Yay!” Skippy cheered. His smile instantly returned, and he bounced upstairs to grab his winter attire. 

“This doesn’t get you out of eating your veggies!” Slappy shouted up at him as she snatched up a purple scarf and gloves from the nearby dresser. 

As she wrapped the scarf around her neck, Plotz sat up on her doorstep, grimacing in pain as he tried to get back to his feet. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting a child go into a tavern of all places!” Plotz scolded. “What kind of parent are you?” 

“Good thing I’m an aunt then,” Slappy replied. “And I ain’t letting my kid starve at home when there’s a feast in town and I don’t have to pay for nothin’.”   

“People are gonna talk,” Plotz warned her. 

So let them talk. She didn’t care. 

Skippy came running downstairs with a green scarf around his neck and a pair of cream earmuffs on his head. 

“Ready, Aunt Slappy!” he exclaimed, trying to hide the tell-tale sign of acorn crumbs along his mouth that he’d somehow snuck behind her back.  

Well, at least she could make the prince foot the bill for Skippy’s appetite. 

o-o-o-o-o

 Slappy immediately regretted coming to the tavern as soon as she heard the raucous noise and saw the candlelight. What she wouldn’t give for a little peace and quiet right now. 

Plotz puffed out his chest and marched inside ahead of them, trying to appear more important than he actually was to the tavern’s occupants. 

Slappy had never been inside the tavern before. Too noisy and crowded for her liking. 

She’d expected the rougher men of town to come and arm wrestle, gamble, and drink until their livers exploded. 

But surprisingly, there was none of that roughness one might associate with a rustic, earthy tavern in a rural town. Some of the men brought their wives, who formed their own cliques in the corners as they shared the latest gossip. 

Everyone was dressed in their church clothing in an effort to appear more sophisticated to their prince than they actually were. 

The tavern’s interior decoration was strange too. A bearskin rug was on the floor by the fireplace, the once mighty creature whose fur was now trampled and caked with mud. Countless antlers, horns, and tusks lined the walls, along with the heads of wild beasts that had fallen victim to Prince Snowball’s cunning mind. 

Skippy backed away from a taxidermied doe. 

“Bumbie’s mom…” he whispered, clutching Slappy’s tail like a lifeline.

The greatest mistake of her life was taking him to see that dang stage play of Bumbie. She thought he was old enough to handle it, but he’d been so emotionally distraught at the infamous death that any reminder was enough to send him into hysterics. 

Slappy quickly backed away, using her tail to cover Skippy’s eyes until the taxidermied doe was no longer in view. Thankfully, it was placed in a corner and not out in the open. 

“Beat it,” Slappy snapped at some women who were watching Skippy with barely restrained looks of pity for him and disgust at Slappy for bringing him along in the first place. Slowly, she lifted her tail from Skippy’s face. His eyes were still wet and a bit red, and he was trying to wipe them off on his scarf. 

She was not about to handle a snot-covered scarf, so she quickly grabbed a strangely fancy napkin with a golden S embroidered in the corner and tossed it to Skippy. 

“Use the napkin,” she said, and Skippy complied. Five agonizing minutes of sniffling and tears later, and he was back to normal. His eyes were still a bit on the puffy side though. 

“Thanks, Aunt Slappy,” Skippy murmured, wiping the last of his tears away with the napkin. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.” Slappy couldn’t disguise her relieved sigh. If the villagers had such a huge problem with the way she was taking care of Skippy, they needed to take it up with her and not judge Skippy for it. 

The barrel-like tables were all stacked along the wall, replaced by a long, elegant table with enough food to feed a horse for the next decade. Venison, wild boar sausages, and roast pheasant from Snowball’s earlier hunt were the main attractions, each of them upon silver platters with beds of lettuce and rice underneath. The sauces were a rich, creamy brown, sprinkled with all sorts of exotic spices. 

Smaller side dishes of potatoes, cheeses, soups, and several kinds of autumn vegetables surrounded the large meat-based dishes. Several plates were loaded to the brim with acorn squash, one of the few vegetables Skippy didn’t protest at eating. 

She wasn’t going to tell him that acorn squash didn’t actually contain acorns. 

Quickly, she swiped two of the acorn squash dishes and stored them into her hammerspace. It’s not like anyone would miss them. There was plenty to go around. 

Exactly how much of the town’s food supply was for this extravagant feast alone? 

It seemed like they were using up all the meat and the season’s harvest in one night. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the amount of food they were going to waste. 

Not to mention the expensive wines and beers that littered the table. Even the cutlery was fancy. 

That silver set of cutlery looked good, and she could use more forks anyway. She tended to lose forks fast when she used them as projectiles. 

So they joined the acorn squash in her hammerspace.

She elected to just steal the side dishes that nobody else really cared about, since all the attention was on what their benevolent and generous prince brought in. No sense in drawing attention to themselves. 

Just here for the food and not to socialize.

“Skippy, there’s gonna be a lot of alcohol here, and I ain’t dealing with any hangovers, so don’t drink anything unless I give you the okay, capiche?” Slappy said. 

“Capiche,” Skippy agreed, and he threw the tear-stained napkin onto one of the chairs. 

She felt everyone’s eyes on her and Skippy as she led him up to the seats at the bar. Behind the counter, the bartender filled up a keg of beer for a man who was clearly a regular to the tavern. 

She was an old maid in their traditional eyes, one who had no business raising an impressionable child without a father. Well, it wasn’t like Skippy had anywhere else to go. And Skippy never acted like he needed a father in his life, so it was a moot topic.  

Maybe Snowball should’ve looked into setting up some sorta childcare service if he didn’t want kids there. 

“Oi, you can’t just bring him up here!” the bartender protested. “We have standards at this tavern!” 

“Low ones, if you consider that type of beer quality, Dick,” Slappy said, taking a seat at the counter. “Ever been to Bavaria? Now those guys, they brewed the best stuff. Drank Yosemite Sam under the table there. Always talks a big game, but can’t hold his liquor for nothin’.” 

Dick’s face turned red as the men around them started to snicker. “For the last time, my name is Richard!” he yelled. “Quit laughing, Tom! That goes double for you, Stanley!” 

Tom wouldn’t stop beating the table with his fist, while Stanley laughed into his beer.  

“So ya got any apple juice for the kid or what?” Slappy asked.

Dick grudgingly complied, not wanting a drunk kid on his conscience or reputation. He filled several glasses with freshly squeezed apple juice and left them alone, muttering about how he didn’t become a bartender just to wind up serving apple juice to some snot-nosed brat. 

Slappy tasted the apple juice. Sweet, but no bitter tinge of alcohol. She nodded to Skippy, who took his cue and happily slurped away at his own glass. 

“So when are we getting some grub?” Skippy asked. “I’m so hungry I could eat Pharfignewton!” 

Dick picked up a rag and started cleaning out a dirty cup. “Feast don’t start ‘til the prince says so. He was supposed to begin the dinner half an hour ago, but since the incident, well…” 

He gestured towards the fireplace, where Plotz was trying to plead with the sulking prince to come and begin the festivities. 

“Did he get cut off from his wealth or something?” Slappy asked. Served him right if he did. 

Dick only tugged at his collar, refusing to say anymore. But a red-faced man on a nearby barstool laughed heartily, slamming his beer mug down with a resounding thud. 

“Pinky threw him into the mud! Turned his proposal down flat!” the man chortled. “Funniest thing I’ve seen the village idiot do since he moved here!” 

Pinky, of all people, threw somebody into the mud? And not just anybody, but Prince Snowball himself?

Now that was comedy if she ever heard one! A laugh escaped her, but she quickly turned it into a hacking cough and disguised it with a sip of apple juice. 

Pinky had sometimes come to her house for longer visits if he needed an escape from Snowball for a few hours. Though she offered to clobber the jerk multiple times, Pinky always begged her not to, for fear of retaliation. 

All it would take was a few words from Prince Snowball, and Skippy would be taken away before she could blink. 

“Quiet, Jacque!” one of the women hissed, cuffing the laughing, drunken man on the head. He instantly spat out his beer, hitting his throat with his fist as he choked. “How dare you laugh at our prince! He was just trying to provide Pinky with a better life!” 

Sure, being a puppet queen in some drafty castle was better than living in a rustic village. 

“Ow, watch where you’re aiming, woman!” Jacque snarled. “I ain’t wastin’ good be-” 

He trailed off mid-sentence, once he realized he was at eye level with the woman’s ample bosom. 

Slappy quickly dragged her nephew out of the barstool and seated him at the long table instead, where he couldn’t see or hear Jacque and the woman’s exchange. Skippy was too young for that stuff right now.

She grabbed two plates and started loading them up with food. Around her, everyone muttered about the horrible example she was setting for Skippy with this breach in social custom. If the prince was supposed to take the first bite, then he should’ve done so already instead of sulking like a teenage girl who got dumped by her boyfriend.  

Though she heaped on some sausages and strips of pheasant for both of them, she skipped the venison for both of them. No sense in making Skippy cry over cannibalizing Bumbie’s mom. She also included potatoes and acorn squash on both their plates, quickly swiping the large container of potatoes for her hammerspace. 

Potatoes kept for a long time. They could survive off this stuff for the next month if they rationed it properly. 

“Here. The sooner we eat, the sooner we can leave,” Slappy said, setting the loaded plate in front of Skippy. 

Skippy shoved an entire sausage in his mouth, his large cheeks bulging out even more. “Yrethbesausla!” he exclaimed, spraying chunks onto the table. 

Slappy grimaced and shoveled a forkful of potato into her mouth. “Spew,” she said, borrowing her nephew’s catchphrase since she had no other words to describe how gross that was. 

She glanced at the corner, where Plotz was still having trouble getting Snowball to join in on the fun. 

“Your Excellency, if I may, perhaps you should address your subjects? Everyone’s waiting to hang on your every word,” Plotz suggested. 

“So let the rabble wait,” Snowball sighed. “How can I possibly face them when he humiliated me?” 

“Oh, not to worry, your Grace,” Plotz rubbed his hands together nervously, like the simpering idiot he was. “They all admire you greatly! Your benevolence and philanthropist acts have improved this village since the moment you came. I’m sure they can overlook this one…incident. And if not…” 

“Who does he think he is? That mouse has tangled with the wrong prince!” Snowball grumbled. “I was dismissed and rejected, treated like nothing more than an insect underfoot!” 

“Look who’s talkin’,” Slappy muttered. 

The ever-groveling Plotz offered Snowball a small thimble of wine. “More wine? We got hold of a  variety from the vineyards of southern Italy for this momentous day. Cost a pretty penny, but-” 

Snowball snatched the thimble up and threw it into the fire, uncaring of how much scraping it took to purchase even one bottle. 

“It won’t help,” he sighed. “I’m disgraced.” 

“Never, your Majesty!” Plotz swiveled Snowball’s throne around to face the villagers, to both Snowball and everyone else’s surprise. “You just need to pull yourself together!”

The crowd cheered Snowball’s name, though he showed no reaction to their praise. His eyes scanned the crowd, his brows raising in surprise when he spotted Slappy. 

“What are you doing here?” he spat. 

“Well, as much as it disturbs me to see you-” Slappy ignored the scandalized murmurs behind her “-you’re the one who wanted a representative from every household. And who am I to turn down free food?” 

“You brought your child here.” Snowball said flatly.

Slappy shrugged. “He was hungry.” 

Skippy paid the conversation no mind and continued to shovel food down his throat at an alarming rate. At this rate, he was gonna eat all the food, their platters, and the entire table. 

“Ugh,” Snowball pinched the bridge of his nose. “No table manners whatsoever.” 

She was aware of his disdain for her, mostly because of her association with Pinky. And also how he could never get a penny out of her when his tax collectors came around. 

He could’ve tossed them out and nobody would’ve batted an eye. 

Plotz coughed loudly, and Snowball scowled at him for interrupted whatever train of thought he had going on. “Never mind them, your Highness,” he said. “Just take a look around! Everyone wishes they could have your money and intellect! Isn’t that right, Tom? What about you, Dick?” 

“I told you, it’s Richard! Call me Dick one more time and I will hang your entrails in the forest for the crows!” Dick bellowed, and Plotz gave him a nervous smile as he backed away. Snowball just leaned on his elbow, thoroughly unimpressed. Then Dick realized he was addressing and tugged at his collar, a bead of sweat trickling down his face. “But our gracious prince can call me whatever he likes!” 

Slappy gagged on a strip of pheasant. This sucking up was ruining her appetite.

“Musicians, some accompaniment if you will,” Plotz said, pulling a conductor’s wand out from his vest. He glanced over his shoulder, like he was afraid Dick was going to leap over the counter and murder him at any moment. “Perhaps this would be better explained through song.” 

Slappy nearly choked on her pheasant. 

If there was one thing she hated about village life, it was the townsfolk’s tendency to burst into song at random. Usually to sing Snowball’s praise or gossip about Pinky’s oddities. 

Didn’t they have anything better to sing about? Or better yet, not sing so she could sleep without being disturbed?

“Never signed up for a show along with my dinner,” Slappy muttered. “Stop that, Skippy.” 

Skippy’s head and tail bobbed to the accordion and fiddle’s melody. “But it’s catchy, Aunt Slappy!” 

And even worse was Plotz prancing around the room without any dignity.

“No one rules like Snowball, 

Did well in school as Snowball, 

No one wears their crown upon their brow like Snowball!” 

Slappy covered her ears as Candie joined in, though it did nothing to block out her shrill, annoying voice. 

“For there’s no one nearly as wealthy, 

Perfect, a pure paragon!” 

Without asking him, Plotz hoisted Snowball into the air for everyone to admire. Snowball snapped his fingers and held out his hand, and Stanley handed him a thick plank of wood, which he brought down on Plotz’s head. 

Snowball dropped to the table below, landing in a kneeling position. As he rose to his feet, a woman draped a fur-lined red cloak around him and handed him a golden scepter. 

“No one’s been like Snowball, 

A kingpin like Snowball! 

No one’s got their head screwed on quite like Snowball’s!” 

Snowball brought his scepter down on the fingers of a barmaid who tried to stroke his fur. Then he climbed up a stack of crates so he could survey the entire tavern proudly and lord his position over the unfortunate bourgeoisie. 

Slappy noisily slurped her apple juice just to spite him. 

“As a specimen, yes, I’m intimidating!” Snowball proclaimed. His sulky demeanor had vanished, replaced by his usual arrogance once more. He slammed his scepter against the crates, and the villagers hastily dropped to their knees out of blind respect for their prince. 

“All hail to our Prince Snowball!” they chorused. 

“Prince Snowball is the best and the rest are all drips!” Plotz shouted, as he tried to climb up the crates himself to take his self-proclaimed position as Snowball’s number one lapdog. He misjudged his weight and accidentally opened up a crate as he scrambled onto it, wasting several bottles of expensive wine as they broke on the ground, the red liquid splashing onto the hands of the nearest men. 

The crowd all glared up at Plotz, angered by the loss of their precious alcohol. Plotz paled and tried to run away, but several of the village’s burliest men caught him. They laughed and cracked their knuckles, ready to beat him up for revenge. 

“Gentlemen, we are not uncivilized brutes!” Snowball shouted in disapproval. “Show some decorum!” 

Plotz howled in pain as one of the men chomped down on his ankle. Then they all bowed to Snowball once more, while Plotz writhed on the ground. 

“No one stops bar fights like Snowball, 

Shows their might like Snowball, 

For there’s no one as canny or clever!”

Snowball smirked and tapped his forehead. “As you can see, I have neurons to spare! For example, I’m especially good at extrapolating!” 

One of the teachers at the local schoolhouse handed Snowball a slate with a complicated equation nobody else could possibly hope to understand. Snowball barely glanced at it before tossing the slate back at the teacher. 

“X equals ten,” Snowball said dismissively. “Child’s play.” 

“A hundred points for Snowball!” the teacher cheered, to the crowd’s delight. 

“When I was a lad, I read four dozen books every morning to help me become smart. 

And now that I’m grown I read five dozen books, so my intellect is now off the charts!” 

Snowball raised his arms, and everyone whistled and clapped in appreciation. 

“No one thinks up pointless refrains like Snowball,” Slappy sighed. She’d eaten her fill. Unfortunately, Skippy was on his fourth plate and wasn’t stopping anytime soon. 

Where was this kid tucking away all that food? Seemed like she was living with a bottomless pit that bore a passing resemblance to a young squirrel. 

Someone handed Snowball a small bow and arrow, and Snowball pulled the string taut, releasing the arrow straight into a barrel of beer, where it lodged into the slats and weakened the exterior enough that the liquid inside poured out through several holes. Several of the men stuck their mugs into the waterfalls of beer, toasting Snowball before guzzling away. 

She didn’t envy whoever had to clean that mess up. 

“No one shoots like Snowball, 

Makes those beauts like Snowball, 

No one tromps around in expensive riding boots like Snowball’s!” 

Snowball stood on a cushion, which Stanley lifted high into the air for all to admire. 

“I use antlers in all of my decorating!” 

Snowball raised his scepter, posing exactly like the giant portrait behind him which depicted him in all his royal finery. 

Slappy would never understand his tastes in decoration though. The various horns and antlers he’d collected from fallen wild beasts were extremely tacky and tasteless. 

“All hail to our prince, Snowball!” 

The music concluded to raucous cheers for Snowball’s name, which the hamster soaked up with a proud smirk. 

“My loyal subjects, I have kept you waiting long enough!” Snowball declared. “Let us partake in the fruits of my labor on this fine winter’s ni-” 

The doors suddenly flew open, a cold wind cutting through the warmth of the tavern. The women wrapped their shawls around themselves and shivered, while the men pulled their beer mugs away. 

“Will somebody shut those doors?” Snowball bellowed. 

Before anyone could obey his command, a disheveled mouse rushed in, his entire body quaking with cold. 

“Help!” the mouse cried, clutching his tail close to his body. “Won’t somebody help me?” 

Jack? 

Slappy stood up to get a better look, her joints protesting from the sudden movement. Skippy dropped his fork in surprise, his attention finally pulled away from his food. 

What was Pinky’s father doing here? Pinky had said his father would be away for two weeks for the fair. 

Pinky couldn’t shut up about how Jack would win the blue ribbon for sure. 

Jack’s clothes were dirty, his mustache and fur caked with snow. But it was the wild, panicked look in his eyes that made her assume the worst. 

Maybe he was robbed by bandits or highwaymen along the way? It seemed the most likely explanation for his unkempt appearance. 

The occupants of the tavern glared at Jack, unhappy at having their joyous night interrupted. 

Jack dropped to his knees in front of Snowball, his hands clasped in a desperate plea. “My prince, I need your help! He’s got Pinky locked in a dungeon! We have to hurry and rescue him! Please, we mustn’t waste any time!” 

There were many disgruntled murmurs. Nobody was willing to leave the warm tavern, especially when the feast hadn’t begun yet. 

Snowball raised one authoritative hand, commanding everyone to be quiet. “You’re incoherent, Jack. Who’s got Pinky locked in a dungeon?” he said, just to goad Jack further. 

“A beast!” Jack cried. “A horrible, monstrous beast!” 

The silent crowd immediately burst into laughter. Not even Snowball could hide his own smirk. 

Skippy frowned, looking more confused than anything. 

“Probably just got attacked by a wild animal,” Slappy said to assure him. “At least he escaped. Shame about the fair though.” 

Jack trembled at the laughter at his expense. 

“Was it a big beast?” Stanley asked. 

“Well, he was smaller than you lot, but-”

“With a long, ugly snout?” Jacque called, sticking the lower half of his face into his mug to imitate a snout, much to everyone’s laughter. Dick clapped Jacque on the back, causing the mug to get stuck on his face. 

Jack shook his head. “More like a pug nose, and-” 

“With sharp, cruel fangs?” Tom pulled the corners of his mouth and bared his teeth comically. 

“Yes, yes!” Jack cried. “And enormous twisted horns like the Devil himself! Please, Prince Snowball! I beg you to help me out!” 

Snowball tapped his chin in thought. “Very well. Stanley. Help this old mouse out.” 

Jack perked up instantly as Stanley picked him up by the tail. “You will? Oh, thank you!” Jack exclaimed gratefully as he dangled in the air. Then Stanley marched over to the door, twirling Jack like a lasso before finally tossing him into a snowbank outside and shutting the door. 

“Crazy old Jack,” Dick muttered, rolling his eyes as he and Stanley took their seats at the table. “Have to admit, he’s always good for a laugh.”  

There was a contemplative look in Snowball’s eyes at that. “Crazy old Jack…” he murmured, rubbing his chin in thought. 

Skippy inched away from Dick, until he was halfway on Slappy’s chair. “Not hungry anymore,” he mumbled, eyeing Dick and Stanley fearfully. 

Slappy had lost her appetite too. 

Around them, everyone returned to their usual chatter about nothing like they hadn’t just tossed a helpless old mouse into the cold, dark night. 

She didn’t care about being a paragon of virtue or a good role model, but that was a line even she wouldn’t cross. 

And she didn’t want Skippy around these villagers for longer than he had to be. 

“Get up, Skippy,” Slappy ordered. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and pulled on her gloves. “We’re leaving.” 

Skippy didn’t protest, eagerly rushing out the door ahead of Slappy. 

“Why the rush?” Snowball asked. “I haven’t made my announcement yet.” 

Slappy glared at him. “Don’t care. People don’t know how to keep their yap shut around here anyway. And I’m taking one of these pheasants home for leftovers. Got a bottomless pit to feed.” 

She ignored the indignant squawks as she snatched the platter off the table and stuffed the entire pheasant into her hammerspace on her way out the door.

“That’s enough,” Snowball said. Once again, everyone listened to him. “Don’t bother with her.” 

“You’re really just gonna let her go when she disrespected you like that?” Candie demanded. 

“I assure you, there shall be consequences in due time,” Snowball replied. “But for now, let us feast on this magnificent bounty.” 

Slappy slammed the tavern door on the shouts that hailed Prince Snowball. 

She had no doubt that if Snowball told the entire village to drown themselves in the ocean, they’d all do so without a second thought. 

o-o-o-o-o

Slappy finally caught up with her nephew at the end of the street, who was bundling his scarf around a shivering Jack. He still had his winter coat on, so at least he wouldn’t freeze to death. 

The old mouse had a death grip on Skippy’s fingers. “P-please help me, Skippy! My son is in d-danger! Achoo!” 

Jack sneezed fiercely. 

“Monsieur Jack! You gotta calm down!” Skippy said, and from his panicked eyes, he was very out of his element. “Aunt Slappy, help!” 

“I swear I packed my smallest mallet here somewhere. Always calmed Tweety Bird down like a charm,” Slappy muttered, digging around her hammerspace. But she only came up with a broken hunting rifle. She tossed it aside. 

She really had to get around to organizing her hammerspace. 

“That’s not helping, Aunt Slappy!” Skippy protested.

Slappy held up her hands defensively. “Okay, okay, I won’t mallet him. But you better have a good suggestion, kid.” 

“Take him back to Pinky cause he’s way better at calming people down than either of us are?” Skippy offered. 

Pinky’s cottage was all the way across town, and Skippy was having trouble keeping his eyes open. All that food and the late hour made him extra sleepy. 

Jack didn’t have enough strength to walk by himself, so Slappy took up the task of carrying him. 

Why did it have an early winter this year? The cold wasn’t doing wonders for her joints. Skippy nearly walked straight into a snowdrift, but Slappy caught him by the tail and hauled him back. 

“The b-beast has him…h-have to s-save him,” Jack moaned from the warmth of the scarf. “My fault…” 

“Look, whatever animal attacked you ain’t here,” Slappy cut in. 

“Carriage b-brought me back. Moved by itself. Creepy…creepy legs,” Jack mumbled. 

There would be no breaking through Jack’s delirium until they brought down the fever. 

The sooner they got him to the cottage, the sooner he could recover. 

What would’ve been a ten minute walk from the center of town to the cottage was extended by an extra half hour. The ground was freezing over, and Slappy had to handle Jack with a level of care she wasn’t used to. 

He was already sick, and he didn’t need a broken hip on top of that. 

Skippy was practically clinging to her tail for warmth. 

The oil lamps were far and few in between as they approached the stone bridge that marked the outskirts of town. The creek was steadily freezing over, and it was sure to be a thick sheet of ice by morning. 

The wind nipped at her eyes and nose, but she pressed on. After what seemed an eternity, they reached the cottage at last. 

The cottage was silent and dark. No candlelight in the window, nor smoke to hint that the fireplace was lit. The only movement was from a weather vane atop the house. 

“Pinky?” Slappy bellowed, banging as hard as she could on the door to wake him up if he was still asleep. “Pinky, this is Slappy! Your father’s here too! He never made it to the fair!” 

No answer. 

“What’s taking so long?” Skippy yawned, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to keep himself awake. 

Oh, to hell with this. 

Slappy tried the handle, and the door swung open with an earsplitting creak. 

“Damn it, Pinky. Lock your door before you go to sleep,” Slappy grumbled. Saved her the trouble of malleting the door open though. 

Skippy pulled out an oil lamp from his hammerspace, lighting it up with a smooth flourish of a matchstick. 

Pinky kept a meticulous cottage. Barely a spot of dust on the couch or tables. All the chairs were pushed in, and the dishes were all put away. The only thing that seemed out of place was a feather covered in dried mud. 

But Pinky was nowhere to be found. His cozy little bed in the corner was empty. 

“He’s gone,” Skippy murmured in shock. 

“I noticed,” Slappy added. 

Jack mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. Slappy tucked him into the little bed, where he could get some much needed rest. 

Surely, Pinky couldn’t have abandoned…no, no, she quashed that idea at once. Pinky was an honest soul with a good heart, and he had a sense of duty to take care of his ailing father like no other. 

He’d been so excited for his father to go to the fair and win the grand prize. 

For Pinky to not be here…it made no sense. 

“Aunt Slappy?” Skippy tugged on her arm in worry. “D’you think maybe…Pinky went to the meadow again? I keep telling him not to go by himself cause it’s dangerous! What if a hunter followed him home and shot him and dragged him away so we’ll never see him again?”  

His voice rose into a wail. 

She was starting to understand why some of these villagers were so deadset against fictional works.

Skippy was drawing way too many conclusions from Bumbie. 

With a sigh, Slappy picked Skippy up and set him on the couch, then climbed up next to him. She pulled a hand-stitched quilt that had been draped over the back of the couch around them. Her tail curled around Skippy underneath the quilt, his head resting against the tip like a makeshift pillow. 

“Pinky is a resilient little guy, Skippy,” Slappy said, trying to speak with a confidence that belied how she had no clue as to where Pinky could’ve gone either. Even if his father had been attacked by a wild animal, that still didn’t explain Pinky’s whereabouts. Unless he had a bad feeling and rushed off after his father. She wouldn’t put it past Pinky to be impulsive. “Even if someone did take him, remember that Pinky isn’t stuck with them. More like they’re stuck with a mouse who says narf and probably cares too much when he shouldn’t.” 

Skippy yawned and nuzzled into her fur as he curled into a brown ball of fluff. “If you say so, Aunt Slappy.” 

Slappy patted his head. Come to think of it, maybe Skippy trusted her way too much. She had no way of knowing where Pinky was. 

“Get some sleep, kid,” Slappy yawned, ready to drift off herself. “We’ll take Jack with us when we go back to the tree in the morning. Can’t leave him by himself when he’s got a fever this bad.” 

Skippy just curled into her, fast asleep already. 

You’d better be okay, Pinky, Slappy thought. Or you’re gonna be sorry next time I see you. 

AN: Slappy is a fun POV character to write, especially when you go by ‘Grunkle Stan as a female squirrel’ like I do. Grunkle Stan was a blueprint for how I characterized Slappy here, with Skippy serving as sort of a Mabel equivalent. 

Candie Chipmunk was originally from the Slappy short ‘I Got Yer Can’. 

Slappy has...an interesting influence on Skippy. And not everyone agrees with her method of parenting (I mean, she did take him into a bar). That certainly can’t come back to haunt them later. 

I had to make fun of Dick’s name. There’s no way an Animaniacs character would ignore a name like that. 

You gotta love the dramatic irony that Slappy figured out that Jack may’ve been attacked by a wild animal, or that Pinky was in fact taken by somebody, but those two points don’t come together just yet for her. For now, the Squirrels just think Jack is having a really bad fever. 

The timeline of the film is a little spotty, but the village scenes aren’t going to happen all in one night in this story.  

[marvelslut16]

Inseparable

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x reader

Synopsis: Reader and Reggie have been best friends since they were toddlers, nothing tearing them apart until Veronica their Junior year. This follows the rise and downfall of their friendship. Can they mend their friendship and be back to what they once were, will they be too hurt to fix their broken hearts, or will they finally admit their feelings for one another?

Word count: 2.6K+ (my hand slipped)

Warnings: Mr. Honey; he’s the worst villain to ever enter Riverdale, you can’t change my mind. Mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic past the mention of a black eye. Some angst. Spoilers for s4e4 technically, I still can’t believe what Mr. Honey did. 

A/N: I have like 11 requests I still have to get to, yikes. I swear I’ll do them soon, but inspiration hit and I ended up writing this. there isn’t enough Reggie love on Tumblr, plus I have a tiny crush on Charles Melton, so writing this was a win win. let me know what you think, and if I should write more for Riverdale. Veggie is better than Varchie (don’t come for me), but I still think Reggie deserves better than Ronnie. 

Growing up in a small town like Riverdale there weren’t too many kids to become friends with, but when you met Reggie Mantle on your first day of preschool you knew he would be your best friend for life. Archie was showing off on the playground by walking up the slide when the teacher wasn’t looking. The problem then being that Archie's foot slipped right as you were walking passed the bottom of the slide, and he slid down and ended up knocking you on the ground. You started to cry because he scraped your arm bad enough that it started to bleed. Reggie, whom you shared a table with in class, watched from the sidelines as your teacher helped you up and took you to the nurse, he got his revenge during arts and crafts later that day- ‘accidentally’ spilling red paint all over the front of Archie’s khaki pants. When Reggie made it to the table you quietly thanked him and shared your paint with him since the teacher said he couldn’t have new paint as a lesson to be more careful next time. 

As the years went on, yours and Reggie’s friendship only grew until you were inseparable; you two went on family vacations together, you went to every single one of his junior bulldog football games from the ages of eight to twelve, he went to your ballet recitals when you took classes in grade school even bringing you roses. Reggie was your rock at your grandmother’s funeral, you helped him pass his geometry class Sophomore year so he could stay on the football team, and you were the only person that he opened up to about his father’s abuse- having witnessed it with your own eyes a handful of times. 

Your mom was convinced you and Reggie would fall in love and get married one day, and your father was convinced your friendship would crumble and ultimately go down in a blazing fire. Going into your senior year you hate to admit that your father was right, his words bouncing around in your skull every time your brain shut off for longer than two seconds. Veronica Lodge moved to town Sophomore year, enticing every boy within a fifty mile radius with her upper East side charm. Reggie didn’t fall for Veronica right away, he fell for her junior year when he was helping her with La Bonne Nuit. And as cliche as it is, that’s when you realized you were in love with him, you had been for a while. The small nagging voice in the back of your head told you that it had been since that day in preschool. 

But you would grin and bear the pain, the soul crushing pain, if it meant that Reggie would still be in your life. And you did, for a while at least; until Reggie stopped calling and texting you back, until he stopped begging you to come to his games, until he stopped sneaking into your room every friday night after a game to go over the play footage where you would help him come up with new plays and tweaks to the old ones, until he started ignoring you in the halls in favor of making out with Veronica. You never hated the girl, she had been nothing but nice to you anytime you would interact, but God, you just wished she would disappear and give you your Reggie back. 

You resented Veronica, leading your interactions with the girl to be more tense and your answers clipped, and that was what led to the blazing fire your father talked about. Reggie offered you a ride home one day after school, and of course you jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him again. Instead of going to pops and talking like you thought you would, the two of you got into your biggest, and last, fight ever. 

It started with Reggie asking why you hated Veronica, where you defended yourself and swore that you didn’t. But he wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth, continuing to press you as you two kept driving. The closer you got to the edge of town the worse the fighting got, your voice raising along with his. You accuse him of abandoning his friends, abandoning you, to be with Veronica all the time. He gets mad that you don’t understand why he’s with her all the time, claiming that you couldn’t understand not when you’ve never had a boyfriend. Something that he’s the reason for, since he scared all of the guys even remotely interested in you away with just one piercing glare or one lowly growled threat. 

The comment picking on your relationship status, or lack thereof, is the straw that broke the camel's back. You let loose just as you pass the sign thanking you for visiting Riverdale, the town with pep. Pep your ass, the small town is full of death and endless heartache wherever you look. You rip into Reggie, letting the hurt take over as you scream and scream at him-calling him a terrible friend. He finally screams back, claiming that you’re worse because you hate his girlfriend. He has to pull his precious car over, the car you helped him pick out when he turned sixteen, because he started swerving when you two got into a screaming match. 

The interaction ends with you getting out of the car on the side of the road leading into Greendale, slamming the car door behind you, knowing that he’ll get mad with how aggressive you’re being with his baby, his Bella. He does a sharp U-turn driving beside you, trying to coax you into getting back in the car with him. But you can’t do that, you can’t face him right now. So as you watch the taillights of the gun metal grey Chevelle disappear around the curve in the road you finally let the tears fall down your face, they stream harder and faster the closer you get to reentering the town with pep. 

Reggie had dropped your backpack off at your house when he got back into town, so it was sitting there waiting for you in your living room alongside your worried mother. You cried into her arms that night for hours, until you were all cried out, not caring that you look like a big baby. You had just lost Reggie, you had just lost your everything. You hadn’t talked to him since that day in the middle of your junior year, even after him and Veronica broke up and she went back to Archie like always. The days of your senior year seemed to fly by, October coming in what felt like mere days as opposed to months, and your last Halloween in Riverdale is today. 

You and Reggie would always wear matching costumes to trick or treat, and school just for fun as you got older, this always prompted your classmates to wonder if you two were finally dating. But that wouldn’t be happening this year, for the first time ever. You had even dressed up and sat on his porch in costume when you were six, handing out candy to the other kids so you could talk to Reggie, who was in costume too, through the window because he was sick with a 102.2 degree fever. You were dressed as Kim and Ron that year, his mom had even crocheted him a little Rufus to stick in his pocket. You couldn’t wait to get out of this town, away from Reggie, away from the places where you would see ghosts of your younger selves everywhere you went. 

Kevin calls you freaking out after he and Reggie got caught tp’ing Mr. Honey’s office. Kevin caved after Mr. Honey threatened to make sure he wouldn’t get into NYU if he didn’t. Kevin felt guilty for his actions, and even though you hadn’t talked to Reggie in close to a year you were worried about him. Worried what his dad might do to him when he hears he got in trouble at school again, and worried what the unhinged Mr. Honey might do to him himself. 

You don’t hear anything from Reggie the next day, not that you really expect to. You more-so hope he’ll call you, but you know what they say about hope- it breeds eternal misery. The day goes by at a snail's pace as you stare at your phone throughout the entirety of said day. You finally curl in on yourself and go to sleep after midnight, however sleep doesn’t stay for long. You’re awoken around two in the morning from your phone’s incessant ringing, in your dazed stupor you don’t realize it’s Reggie’s special ringtone- the bulldog cheer from Kim Possible. 

“Hello?” you ask hoarsely, making sure to stay quiet so your parents won’t hear. 

“(Y/N/N), can you talk?” your startled to hear Reggie’s voice on the other line. It sounds scratchy, like he was recently in a screaming match with someone. You open your eyes for the first time, finally accepting that you won’t be able to just roll over and slip back into your dreams. You glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table and your eyes widen at the time.

“It’s like two in the morning Reg,” you sigh, hoping he’ll wait till morning. 

“Can I come over?” Reggie’s pleading now.

“Later, we can go to Pop’s for lunch or something,” you yawn loudly into the phone in protest. 

“I’m already here,” before you can respond the line goes dead.

You can hear quiet, almost not there, footsteps outside your window as Reggie expertly navigates his way through the flowers and bushes outside your window. He taps on the window three times in quick succession, your old signal for when he would sneak over letting you know it was him at your window. You reluctantly get out of your warm cozy bed, stumbling to the window to open it for your former best friend. 

Your plans for just slipping back into bed anf hopefully nodding off while he talks go out the window as you come face to face with Reggie’s swollen face. He has a split lip and a black eye, you’re sure he has belt marks on his back too. You don't care that Reggie is climbing through the window a little too loudly, your sole focus now on fixing him up. Once he’s in the room you sneak to the kitchen and quietly grab an ice pack, stopping in the bathroom to grab rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and ibuprofen.  

You hand him the pain reliever and your bottle of water, it’s not the first time you’ve shared, as soon as you shut your bedroom door behind you. He swallows the pills down with ease, and you both settle on your bed, a sad depressing routine. You don’t say anything as you clean his split lip, he winces slightly when the alcohol drenched cotton ball makes contact with his open wound. 

“Mr. Honey caught Kevin and I last night,” Reggie admits quietly. 

“I heard, Kevin told me,” you murmur unsure of where this conversation is headed, so you continue to dab at his lip.

“Mr Honey, he said that no one takes me seriously, no one since you. He said that he heard around school that I made my ‘persona’ bigger, became more of a prankster, after I lost you. He-he knew about my dad, (Y/N),” Reggie’s voice cracks, you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. “Said people at school are laughing at me, worst of all, you’re laughing at me.”

“Oh sweetie, no!” you're quick to jump in and defend. “I would never laugh at you, you know that. Never. No one else is either, he was just saying that to get a rise out of you.” Your arm moves without your permission, you push a strand of black hair out of his eyes before caressing his cheek softly. 

“He tp’d my car, that I get. That was actually funny,” Reggie hisses, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re lightly pressing the ice pack to his shiner or because of what he’s about to say next. “But he broke Bella’s windshield, shattered her passenger side window, and busted her left headlight.” 

“I’ll kill him!” you jump up from your spot on your bed, no longer caring if you wake your parents. Reggie holds the ice pack to his eye with his right hand, cautiously reaching for your hands with his left. You calm down when his fingers intertwine with yours, sinking back down next to him. 

“I avoided going home all day, but when I did and my dad saw the car,” Reggie takes in a shaky breath, and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “He did, well he did this.” He uses your joined hands to gesture towards his face. 

You don’t say anything, instead just pulling him in for a hug. Reggie tenses at first before melting into your warm embrace. You pull him down onto the bed with you so you're laying side by side, he rests his head on your chest as you tuck the two of you in. 

“I know we haven’t talked in a while,” you let out dissatisfied hum as you card your fingers soothingly through his hair. “But you're the only person I wanted to see, the only person I ever want to see. It’s been torture without you (Y/N).”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you say under your breath, but he hears you clearly with his ear pressed to your chest. 

“I was an idiot, I let my ego keep me from you,” he moves his head to look up at you, his brown eyes shine with sincerity. 

“Don’t do this right now Reggie,: your eyes fill with tears, “Don’t do or say anything you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Reggie moves his right arm from around your waist to brush away a stray tear that slipped out of your eye. He moves his thumb down your cheek to your lips, tracing them with the pad of his thumb. Reggie lightly tugs down on your lower lip causing you to uncage it from your teeth, when did you even bite it in the first place? 

“I love you (Y/N), I always have,” he looks away from your mouth so he can stare into your eyes. “And I think you have too.”

“I have, I love you so much Reggie,” he pulls your face down to meet him. The kiss is searing, and a little wet due to the tears leaking out of both of your eyes, but it’s perfect. You pull back when you get the slightly tangy taste of blood on your tongue. You immediately fuss over Reggie’s lip, said lip splitting again during the makeout. Reggie pulls you back down onto the bed and into his arms after you’ve dabbed at his lip with the cotton ball again. 

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes shine with unshed tears as he stares lovingly at your face, almost like he’s mesmerized by you. “Not just tonight, but leaving you for Ronnie so I could try to get over you, and for every other night you’ve taken care of me.”

“Just never leave me again,” you whimper, which is cut off when he kisses you again. 

“Never,” Reggie’s never been more serious about anything in his life. 

You cuddle up to Reggie’s chest, his warmth and scent quickly lulling you into  a deep comforting sleep. You don’t care that he should sneak out the window and go home, or that your mom will find you two cuddled up in your twisted sheets when she comes to check on you at ten. All you care about is Reggie being safe, in your arms, and finally having him back in your life-but with one vast improvement to your relationship.

Permenent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

[shoot-the-oneshot]

DIRTY

Lee Bodecker x reader

Warnings: language and slight violence

He hated her, he hated her the second she walked into his station all chummy chummy with the mayor, who he’s been trying to get down here for a face to face for ages. Having the current mayor on his side would definitely help him when election comes back around. Lee plasters on a fake smile when the pair get to his office door, pulling his duty belt up a bit higher from where it’s fallen.

“Mayor, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He stood, shaking the older mans hand ignoring the woman all together, she was wearing one of their uniforms so he figured if she’s a new deputy she would learn who runs this show and if she didn’t well, he could show her himself one night on patrol. While he wasn’t looking forward to having a girl around a female officer on the department would look great to the voters, he silently thought.

“Bodecker, I think it’s high time we have a talk,” the mayor stated making himself way to comfortable in his office. The brief thought that he knew of his extra curricular activities ran through the sheriff’s head. But Lee knew how the real world worked if anything the mayor should be shaking his hand in appreciation for keeping this shit hole safe, the whole town should in his opinion.

“Now Lee, I know this won’t be easy to hear so I’m just gonna’ come out with it. Miss Y/L/N, is taking over your position as sheriff.”

If Lee wasn’t so appalled at the new information he would’ve seen the shock on the womens face as well. But he was to locked in on the mayor to notice. But for once he took his sister’s advice and took a deep breath, surly it wasn’t what he thought and instead the man was presenting him with the news that Lee himself was taking over as mayor and of course he couldn’t be in the role of sheriff if he were to take over. That had to be it, Lees work had finally paid off. All those late nights in the company of meaningless women would end, he’d have to find a sweet girl to fit the image of a mayors wife. That might be hard to do in this small town but he’d figure it out. He was pulled from his inner planning as the mayor rose from his seat.

“I’m sure you can find a new desk out there and clear this office out for the new sheriff in town!” The old man stated proudly patting the girl on the back, who herself had just met eyes with Lee. Now she has locked eyes with many criminal in her time but she had never seen anger quite like his in this moment. Her back involuntarily straightening had the loud bark he let out.

“What!”

“Now Lee,” the mayor started, expecting an outburst, Quickly getting cut off.

“No! Do you know what I have done for this fuckin’ town? This is an elected position, one I’ve won two times over and you’re gonna’ hand it over to some bitch!”

Lee snarled his hands coming down hard on the desk filling the small office with a sharp clap.

“As mayor I can over rule an election when the elected falls short. And you have been for a while Lee, crime rates have gone up and closed cases going down. Does that sound like a good sheriff to you?”

The only sound in the room being Lee’s huffs like an angry bull when you entered its pin. Which Y/n had felt like that’s exactly what she had unknowingly done.

“The conversation is over, leave us be deputy.”

If Lees jaw could clench any harder it’d surly break. Glaring at the girl as he roughly pushed past her, the whole station hearing the argument between the two and was watching as Lee treaded to a nearby desk barking at the watchers as he went.

“Show’s over get back to your jobs!”

“Yes sherif-deputy”

The assistants sputtering only angered Lee more. Finally the mayor left and you came out of his-your office.

“I understand what a shock the must’ve been to you all, believe it or not it was to me too.” Her eyes shot over to Lee hoping he wasn’t to angry still, he was. “Anyway I know you all have a way of doing things and I’m not here to change anything so let keep up the good police work.”

The months following were rough for the ex sheriff, he never had gotten used to being sent out to deal with house parties that got to loud and the case of Mrs.Jenkins, missing poodle. That was a deputys job not his, no matter what his new title was. And you hadn’t made his time any easier.

Miss Y/n Y/l/n, at first she had tried to make friends with him and the rest of the deputies, him being the only one resisting. After finally giving up she began what he believed was a game of ‘how angry can I make Lee today’ sendin’ him out on those joke cases, all while eating his candy he had in his old office.

And to make matters worse the entire town was practically smitten with her, her sweet looks but hard hand on the crime in the area had won their hearts the crime rate dropping ninety percent in the first three months of her arrival. He had went to the library and dug up some newspaper about her, a hotshot detective from Cincinnati who was hailed a hero there after taking down a mob family, after that arrest the department saw how valuable female officers could be and she was no longer the only one within that department and hearing her success many departments followed in suit. And then she suddenly quit after making such a big name for herself So what was she doing here in this tiny town?

—————-

Knockemstiff, West Virginia. The large welcome sign reads as you drove past the trees flying by as blurs of green, the nature will take some getting used to as you didn’t have much in the city. It reminds you of the tiny potted plant you mother got you for your office when you made detective. It was a long, hard road to get there which makes leaving that much worse. You were at the highest of your career being the only women was rough the men didn’t respect you officers and criminals alike, you had to work ten times harder to make your mark and as ironic as it was when you hit that big break that’s when it all went down hill.

And here you are starting all over again and you figured it would be harder to earn the smalls towns respect. But it would all be worth it when you caught the guy you’ve been looking for. Your old boss had made a few calls when he learned your plans to chase leads on the road and one of the calls had been to the mayor of the town when he asked you to meet him at the sheriffs office you were shocked to hear you’d be taking over. You weren’t however when Lee continued to hate you for months to come, everyone said that’s just how he is but you know it was the sting of losing his position. It didn’t take you long to find out he had been dirty it was almost embarrassing how transparent it was.

But you knew if you were going to make any headway in this town when the time came you’d need someone who knew the ins and outs like Lee did, so you kept trying to get on his good side even noticing he liked sweets and breaking out the fancy ones you had from the city, you got the message quick when he threw them away staring right at you. You had one last trick up your sleeve, back in Cincinnati you partner always said cops and criminals aren’t that different it’s just the way they think. so that’s what you’ll do.

Grabbing your hat you walked out of your office boots clacking as you walked past his desk the gold name plate shining as the sunlight breaks through the windows.

“Come on Bodecker, you’re driving” you toss the keys to the cruiser over your shoulder, you know he’s following because you can feel his glare on the back of your head. You spoke as Lee slammed his door shut the car shifting under his weight a bit.

“Low level pot growers slash dealers on the outskirts of town this is their third warning.” Lee grunts is response and started driving the ride was uncomfortable to say the least.

“I know you read up on me I’m sure you have something to say about it?” Taking the glance he shot you out of the corner of his eye as a yes you continue.

“And I’m sure it’s along the lines of why I’m here?” Cue side glance again, “well when I started looking into the Galindos they didn’t take to kindly to that, they send some guys to my parents house when their threats didn’t stop me, it was completely by chance I was at their house when they came it was a big gun fight. Killed one but the others got away and they are the only members of the mafia still out there, I got the tags off the car they used and tracked it to here.”

You’d been parked outside the farm house for the last part of your story so you stepped out the car and rounded to the drivers side leaning down to meet Lees eyes through the open window.

“I want you to know I never wanted to take your position, I also know you were dirty when you were sheriff. So let’s make a deal.”

You can see him take in the information you’ve thrown at him during the short car ride, and he subtly nods “what’s the deal?”

“I know you’re not my biggest fan, but we can help each other. So deal is if you follow me we start over and you help me find the last Galindos no matter how dirty it gets.” You paused letting it sink in. “And if you don’t want to, leave me here and drive back to the station and we will never speak again, but I also won’t hold back on arresting your old buddies and we’ll see how fast they throw you under the bus.”

His eyes which you just now noticed were blue narrow at your words. Looks like country boy knows he would go down faster than milk with cookies if they got arrested. Tipping your hat you spin on your heel and head towards the run down farm house, your lips pull up hearing the car door shut behind you as his footfalls rushing to catch up.

“Didn’t think an officer of your caliber would resort to blackmail.” He grunts, as much as he hates that you’re right he also respected you a tiny bit now, lord know what he covered up for Sandy, so he understands the familial bond that you’re doing this for.

“That wasn’t blackmail, blackmail would be leaking those pictures of you on duty with a girl in your patrol car as you unload into a Pepsi cup.”

Now that made Lee pause in his steps, how the hell did she know that, he hasn’t had a girl around since she popped in. “Yeah I’ve been in town a while.” The pair make it to the paint chipped door, the deputy still slightly stunned but jumping back into action as you kicked the door down without so much as a knock first, Well that’s not protocol. The few men in the the house jump up at the sudden intrusion but are quickly pushed back down with a swift kick to the chest from you.

You know who you’re looking for you’ll leave the rest to Lee, grabbing the boy still sat at the table by his hair and yanking him face first on the floor as he yelped, knee pressing down on his back pulling his head back by your grip on his ponytail. “I’m not here for you.” Your snarled leaning down to his ear, throwing down a baggie with the families grower logo that you found outside your family home. “Next time you see the Galindos you tell them there’s a new sheriff in town.” Barley aware of the deputy entering the room you slammed the mans face down, blood already pouring out of his nose and onto the floor, that’s gonna’ stain.

Not casting Lee a glance as you strolled past him and back to the car, him on your heels, he definitely wasn’t expecting that from you. But he’d be a liar if it didn’t turn him on a bit you know what they say, the line between hate and lust is thin. At least that’s how it goes in his head.

He takes the long way back to the station wanting extra time to think how to ask his question. “You really have pictures of me?”

You looked over when you heard his gruff voice. Oh now he want to have a conversation. “I knew I’d need help with my investigation, you willing or not.”

“And how did you know I was dirty and wouldn’t have arrested you for that show back there?”

Did he think you were stupid, there were thousands of signs you just admitted to following him did he think you didn’t see his dealings. “You’re not the first crooked cop I’ve met, you let your ego get ahead of you, you were sloppy the signs were everywhere, plus.” You couldn’t help the smirk from on. “I never gave you the dealers address.”

Lee couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping his mouth, she was smart he’d give her that. “You know I think this is the beginning of a great partnership deputy, perhaps even friends.” You tease him smiling as he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t call me that!”

“No problem.....deputy.”

[xbunnybunz]

Chocolate Confession [Link x Reader]

Summary: You decide to repay the Legendary Hero of Hyrule with a box of chocolates, and he repays you with something else entirely.

Genre: Fluff

Date: June 19, 2014

-----

If you had learned one thing about Link after all these years of traveling with him, it was that he had an gargantuan sweet tooth.

You had paid close attention to the young man as you both strolled through Castle Town. (And it definitely was not because you liked him!) You would watch as his gaze restlessly touched over everything in sight, examining all of the wares for sale with tireless curiosity. Even though he so-eagerly drank in his surroundings, he never stopped to admire anything up close. It was almost as if nothing meant enough for the busy hero to stop him in his tracks... Well, except for one thing.

Whenever you passed by a candy shop or a vendor selling sweets, Link's cerulean eyes would sparkle like aquamarine jewels, glistening with both awe and lust for the treat. Like a child, his facial expressions would shift to convey his desires. For a split second that others would never notice, Link's breath would catch in his throat, his feet failing to move for a minuscule of time.

Although any other normal person wouldn't have been able to pick up these subtle clues, you noticed the blond's small hints and knew what Link's body language meant.

He was infatuated with sugary snacks.

However, there was a small problem with his sweet tooth; the problem being that he was a traveling hero- which meant he didn't have the time to settle down and get a job. That wasn't the only issue here. The blond hero also had to take care of you, his loyal sidekick, as well as his horse, Epona. With these two factors in mind, it was quite obvious that there were never extra rupees to spare.

In the past few months, however, you managed to snag a job at the renowned Lon Lon Ranch. You had gotten the idea to work at the ranch after you heard the townspeople of Castle Town speak about it. Epona had long run out of carrots and Link had decided that it was time to restock on his beloved horse's treats. Both of you had gone shopping in the marketplace, seeking out carrots for Epona when you overheard two men discussing how much they yearned for a bottle of fresh, ice-cold Lon Lon milk.

While Link was busy paying for the carrots, you rushed over to the men and asked them what "Lon Lon Milk" was.

They had initially laughed at you for not knowing what the famous Lon Lon milk was, but once they realized you were serious, they pulled you aside and explained to you in thorough detail about what the delicious drink was, disbelief in their eyes.

”I can’t believe you’ve never heard of Lon Lon Milk before!” One said, blinking back tears. “What a poor child!”

The other man slapped the back of his friend’s head, but looked close to crying himself. ”Aw, be quiet you idiot! You’re attracting attention!”

Apparently, the milk was a product of Lon Lon Ranch- which was famous for it's scrumptious milk and creamy butter.

Intrigued, you asked about the job opportunities there. The men simply pat you on the back and told you that if you asked Malon, the ranch-owner's friendly daughter, you would be guaranteed a job there.

The following night, while Link and Epona slept, you sneaked away to Lon Lon Ranch, using the directions the men in Castle Town had given you. Luckily for you, you had arrived right before Lon Lon Ranch closed for the night. A girl about the same age as you was huffing and puffing, working on pushing the gates closed, but once she saw you, she gave you a warm smile and asked you how she could be of assistance.

The girl, you assumed, was Malon. You were determined to get the money to repay your friend.

'Link deserves something special for everything he's done for me.' You argued in your mind, still hesitant to take the job. It would require you to sneak away from Link each night and work at the ranch, sacrificing your resting time- which was something you valued more than gold. You shook off those thoughts with a scowl. 'He's always taken care of me and helped me in all ways possible- sometimes even saving me from monsters! He deserves this, at least.'

In the most polite manner possible, you asked her if you could work here for a while. “I need certain amount of money to buy a gift for a friend.” You explained, twiddling your fingers. “I want to buy the perfect present for one of my dearest friends- one that was always there for me. That’s why I need this job, so please, could I work here?”

With that reason, Malon immediately gave you the job.

"I think that you're a wonderful friend." She praised, taking you inside the ranch. "I'm sure your friend will love the present she gets!"

"’She?’ Oh, my friend isn't a girl." You clarified, chuckling quietly.

There was a moment of brief silence after that.

Malon had slowed her footsteps and turned her head slightly, sending you a knowing, yet mischievous look over her shoulder.

"Oh? Is that so?"

You stared at her, dumbfounded, before you finally realized what she was implying. A thin layer of pink dusted your cheeks as you quickly tried to rebut her assumptions.

"W-what?" You stuttered, "Like I said, we're only friends..."

It was Malon’s turn to chuckle as she wached you falter over your words and turn a fiery scarlet color. The auburn-haired girl turned away from you, humming when the cow stables came into view.

"Ah, this is where you'll be working!" She smiled, gesturing to the sleeping cows. "Don't worry, it's not a hard job. All you have to do is milk them enough to get three buckets of milk a night- and you're done!"

You thanked her and accepted the bucket happily, glad that your job didn't require you to lift heavy boxes or shovel horse poo.

And thus, for a month and a half, you managed to creep away from the sleeping hero and his chestnut-colored horse, spending two to three hours in the ranch before returning to sleep for a couple of hours. Finally, after all your hard labor, you had saved enough money to buy Link what he yearned for this whole time- chocolates.

This morning, you were ecstatic to hear that the Hero of Time wanted to head to the marketplace to pick up his repaired shield. You had just enough money to buy the chocolates that he craved.

As he groomed Epona with gentle hands, he addressed you. "I'll be visiting Castle Town sometime in the afternoon," he said, turning to face you. "The repairmen should be done fixing my shield; I'll pick it up today. You can come with me, if you want?"

Soft blue eyes turned to take in the sight of your kneeling form, rolling up your sleeping mat with utmost care.

Your reaction was nothing short of excitement. Your head snapped up, startling the blue-eyed boy in front of you. "Yes!" You shrieked immediately, your eyes wide with delight.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before you realized what you did, and you blushed, embarrassed.

Link sent you a questioning glance, and you felt your cheeks turn pink. "Er, I mean-" You quickly added, trying to redeem yourself, "-I mean, I'd love to go! I've been wanting to buy something there for a while now."

Link smiled at you, lips turning up into a playful grin. "That sounds great! It's always a lot more interesting when you come to Castle Town with me."

You hastily turned around and pretended to fold up your sleeping mat, hiding your reddened cheeks. "S-sure..." You stammered, feeling a bit foolish for the effects that the blond-haired, sapphire-eyed boy had on you.

It was true that you had developed a tiny amount of feelings for Link, but you tried your best to suppress them. Of course, he would never like you. You knew that in the competition for the hero's heart, you were already beat. Princess Zelda- possibly the most beautiful and talented girl you've ever encountered, had you down in the long run. What madman would pick girl like you over a princess?

You sighed quietly under your breath, folding your sleeping mat in half and strapping it onto Epona. The horse huffed out of it's nose lightly, as if it knew what you were thinking. (She was probably just protesting against carrying the extra weight, but it was a comforting thought anyway.) You pet her white muzzle, running your fingers gingerly over her mane. "Friends." You muttered under your breath, watching as the graceful horse pressed it's nose into your hands. You take a deep breath, eyes darting over to the teenage boy that stood a little ways from you. "Just friends..."

Soon after you and Link had finished strapping your sleeping gear onto Epona, you both took off to the marketplace. As both you and Link walked, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. You chuckled, remembering how awkward you were around the hero the first time you traveled with him. Blue eyes met yours, and you offered a lopsided smile. "What were you laughing about?" Link asked, sending you a curious look. You looked up at the sky, tilting your head slightly to catch a breeze. "Nothing, just some old memories." He didn't get a chance to ask what they were about, because you had already arrived at the drawbridge to Castle Town.

Soldiers greeted the both of you as you walked in, you nodded at them before closing your eyes, soaking in the sounds of civilization and life. Traveling with Link often meant being secluded from other folk, and although you loved his company, it got lonely quite quickly.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Link began to speak to you. "We'll meet up in Central Plaza after we've both found what we want, alright? If you need anything, I'll be in the Gear Shop right next to the Hyrule bakery." You nodded, your eyes already glued to the fancy store across from the Gear Shop. Even from where you were standing, you could already see the sweets inside of the store, beckoning you to go in.

As soon as Link departed, you hightailed to the shop, admiring the treats through the window first. The shop put it's best chocolate on display. A variety of chocolates laid in front of your shining eyes, tempting you to hurry up and buy them. The display of dark chocolate swirls, caramel drops and pure white chocolate made your mouth water- you were standing there for so long that people were beginning to give you funny looks, so you decided to walk inside the shop.

No words could describe the smells that had wafted over your olfactory senses as you stepped into the store. For a second, you felt as if you had gone to heaven and back; because it seemed humanely impossible for smells so wondrous to be on Earth.

"Hello?" You heard a voice call, and suddenly, you noticed that there was a hand waving in front of your eyes. "Darling, are you quite alright?" You looked to see the owner of the arm, a woman that was dressed affluently and twice your age stood in front of you, looking worried.

"O-oh no! I'm fine!" You reassured the lady, peering at the boxes of chocolates that lined the shelves. "I'm just amazed at all the chocolate here, that's all."

The woman laughed heartily, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Oh dearie, chocolate seems to be a gift from the gods above, doesn't it? Everything about it seems perfect!" She gestured to the merchandise around her, adding in a hushed voice, "Sometimes I think I love this place more than my husband- don't tell him that, though! Ohoho!"

You diverted your eyes and peered behind the counter, seeing a burly man twirling his mustache, analyzing the boxes of chocolate across from him- that, you concluded, was probably this woman's husband.

"Anyway, dear, was there anything you needed?" The woman asked. You scratched the back of your neck, offering a nervous smile. "Yes, I came to buy this specific box of chocolates. I've had my eyes on it for quite a while now, and I'd really appreciate it if I could buy those."

You still remembered the box that Link had eyed a couple of times while you passed by this shop, it used to be in the window display, but now, alarmingly, it was gone. The top of the box was transparent and allowed you to see the contents lining the inside. You remembered the features of all the alluring chocolates, there were even carvings on the chocolate! Each tiny swirl and flower engraved in the thick, creamy treat looked as if a professional carver had worked their magic on it.

"Oh, that would be no problem! Pray tell, how did the box look like?" The woman asked, clapping her hands once in enthusiasm.

"The cover of the box was transparent, and the chocolates inside looked like they were created by a woodcarver." You recalled, placing a finger on your chin. "There were also multiple colors- it was very pretty."

The woman seemed to be in deep thought for a second, thinking about the description you had given her. You heard her mutter a couple words under her breath before she suddenly sprung into a frenzy. "Oh no!" She cried, hands flying to her face dramatically, "I do, indeed, think we sold that box of chocolates last week!" Your eyebrows furrowed, and you felt a twinge in your heart. Link really seemed to like those chocolates... And you had worked so hard to get them, too.

Suddenly, a gruff voice is heard from the counter. "Millie, I think we have one of 'em boxes left in the back."

Both you and the woman look up at the man behind the counter, still twirling his mustache. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the storage room, and your face filled with surprise; the woman's full of glee.

"Oh, sweetie! I knew that I was right to marry you! You're even sweeter than one-hundred chocolates combined! I knew I could rely on you to be organized with the merchandise!" As the woman bounced her way to the storage room, she leaned over and pecked the mustached man on the cheek, and look of satisfaction washed over his features, chuckling. "Right back at ya Millie."

In moments, the box of chocolate you had seen Link admire so many times was placed in front of you on the counter. The man told you the price, and as you were basically emptying out all your life savings onto the table, he gave you a sly look and questioned "Would the person you're giving this to like this wrapped?"

You were about to answer when Millie interrupted you, a shocked expression on her face. "These expensive chocolates are for someone else?" She began fanning herself, as if it were the most incredulous thing she's ever heard. "Tell me it is not so! Look at you, all your rupees have gone into this box of chocolates- and it is not even for you? Give me the joy to hear that it is your most precious receiving this gift!"

Your face reddens, and you can only look down at the shining marble floors, unable to find words to speak. For your "most precious?" Well... You wouldn't go that far, right?

The man behind the counter sighed, "Ay, Millie, it must be. Look at her face!" He turned to you, and small smile on his lips. "Tell you what, I'll wrap this for you for free- just to make up for all the drama we put you through."

You nodded meekly, your face still burning red.

It didn't take long for the man to finish wrapping the box. When you saw the material they had used to enclose the box, you almost cried.

"This is silk!" You said in awe, feeling the expensive fabric under your fingertips. You traced the golden-hued ribbon with wonder. "...I cannot thank you enough!"

The couple only smiled at you and thanked you for your purchase, urging you to run along and give your present to your lucky "friend."

You carefully placed the beautifully wrapped present in your bag and decided that you'd give the chocolates to Link sometime later, since he would probably be busy checking out his shield after you met up with him.

You spotted the golden-haired boy immediately after leaving the chocolate shop. Calling his name and waving to get his attention, you both reunited and made your way back to Epona, who was waiting for you both in the middle of Hyrule Field.

You stopped walking as soon as Epona came into sight, coughing lightly to get Link's attention. His cerulean eyes turned to you, a pinch of concern shining through. "Is there something wrong, ______?"

You diverted your eyes and slowly pulled out the present, holding it out to him.

"T-this is a thank-you-present for looking after me all the time..."

You watched his reactions out of the corner of your eyes, seeing his face go through an array of emotions. First, he seemed stunned, then puzzled, then finally, grateful.

You turned your head toward Link, lips trembling slightly from the oddness of the situation. His eyes locked with yours, something you've never seen before brewing in his blue orbs. "_-_______... You shouldn't have..." Link muttered, pressing the package closer to his chest. "Where did you get the rupees to afford this?"

You bit back a shiver upon seeing his expression, a blush threatening to spill crimson all over your face. "Well, it doesn't matter as long as you like it!" You choked out, quite rattled at the situation. The words came out a bit sharper than you had intended, but Link didn't seem to take them to heart.

The Hero of Time gave you a gracious smile before carefully pulling at the golden ribbon, admiring the silk fabric.

“Wow…” He whispered in awe, eyes darting up to your ever-reddening face. “This is amazing.” You gulped, trying to steady your heartbeat.

Once he had finally unwrapped the gift, a soft look of surprise touched upon his handsome features, his eyebrows arching up in disbelief and the corners of his mouth pulling northward. You watched as he blinked several times, just to make sure he was not being deceived. His eyes took in every elaborate detail on the chocolates through the clear texture on the front of the box in amazement.

Once you decided that he liked the chocolates, you looked away, your face feeling like it was lit aflame.

"_______... How did you...?" Link spoke your name like it was a sacred prayer. You could feel his eyes back on you, however, you refused to meet his gaze.

"I saw you admiring them in Castle Town," you tried to explain, the temperature on your cheeks increasing steadily. "...And I thought that maybe you'd like them."

You decided to sneak a glance at Link; and you regretted doing so immediately. His eyes were so full of admiration and love that you felt as if you would faint if you looked into them for a second longer. In a flash, he held you in a tight embrace, pressing his body flush against yours.

"I love it, _____. Thank you so much."

You could barely react to his sudden act of affection, and although you wanted this embarrassment to end, you never wanted Link to let you out of his loving grasp. Gingerly, you wrapped your arms around his torso, returning the hug gently.

It seemed like only seconds had passed before he pulled away suddenly, leaving you feeling vacant and also a little neglected. As soon as you saw him open the box of chocolates, however, you watched him with renewed interest.

Link observed every piece of chocolate in the box, appreciating the time and effort put into each individual candy. After what felt like an eternity, he picked up a chocolate in the shape of a rose, small flecks of bright red dotting the edges. You watched keenly as his slender fingers turned the chocolate over, taking in all the details on the petals; before raising it up to his barely parted, slightly chapped lips, enveloping half of the sweet in his mouth...

Your head snapped to the side violently, a dark blush igniting in your cheeks. That was so... Hot... You suppressed a shudder, reminding yourself to contain your thoughts.

While you were battling with your inner turmoil, you had not noticed Link's sneaky expression as he glanced at you. Unknown to you, Link had seen your reaction to him eating the chocolate, and soon, an idea formed in his mind.

Of course, he had an itching feeling that you had liked him before, but he had never acted out on it because he was unsure. Now, however, it was quite obvious that you had more than just a little "thing" for him- and you'd be thrilled to find out that the feeling was mutual.

With that in mind, he purred your name, not unlike a way a cat would, and you clenched your jaw, trying not to look at him. "W-what?" You asked, peering out of the corner of your eye when you didn't receive an answer.

Your eyes widened slightly when you realized that Link was sauntering closer to you, and you attempted to gain space immediately. "Uhm, Link, what are you-Woah-!" You fell backward, landing on your backside rather painfully.

‘Way to go.’ You thought, swallowing thickly as you looked up at Link. Aquamarine eyes watched your every movement and didn't miss a beat. Without hesitation, Link kneeled between your splayed legs, placing his unoccupied hand on the floor beside you. The blond leaned in close, his eyes holding an emotion that almost looked like untamed hunger.

You were too stunned to speak, feeling his hot breath cascade over your lips.

"Why don’t you try some?" He asked, his voice low and airy. He held out the half-eaten chocolate to your flushed face, watching in satisfaction as red blossomed even further down your face. "It's delicious." He smiled, his eyelids lowering seductively. “…And if it’s not, we can try the others in the box, what do you say…?” You were frozen at his words, unable to speak yourself. Instead, you took notice of how long his golden eyelashes were. You felt a gossamer touch on your own lashes, and you swore that they were touching yours.

Link leaned into your body, holding the chocolate rose against your trembling lips, tempting you to open your mouth. Your mind was dizzy with embarrassment. You could feel the chocolate pressing against your mouth, as well as the small grooves and saliva that Link had left behind when he had eaten it. The scent of the chocolate wafted up to your nose, and you felt like you were being put under a heated spell.

You were entranced as you looked into his aqua-eyes, opening your mouth just enough for him to slip the chocolate in. Link gave you a small smile, pressing the sweet into your mouth with a satisfied look.

Your taste-buds set off fireworks in your mouth. The chocolate slowly melted in your mouth, the taste of bitter dark chocolate mixed with foreign spices gave the treat a dark, but tangy flavor.

Your eyes never left Link's as you savored the chocolate, his half-lidded eyes nearly causing you to melt yourself. You were unable to suppress a shudder when he shot you a sultry look, darting his tongue out to lick his lips.

You watched, hypnotized as the hero raised his hand up to his lips, lapping at the chocolate that had melted on the tips of his fingers.

“Link…?” You whimpered, watching him with clouded eyes. You blinked as he pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. Slowly, his hand slithered behind your head, tangling into your hair.

All the while, the blond moved closer to your face, gauging your facial expressions. You shook in anticipation, almost leaning toward him as well. When Link was finally a few centimeters away from your lips, he watched you lowered your eyelids slowly, following in suit, his eyes slipped shut as well.

Gently, he pressed his lips against yours, your mouths molding together perfectly.

After a while, he pulls back and placing his forehead on yours, looking content. "I love you, so much..." He hums, opening his eyes.

You let out a shaky sigh, still flustered, but at the same time, thankful. Your mind began to wander, wondering how a box of chocolate had resulted in this.

"I love you too, Link."