#getting an allergic reaction to anything is one of my fears and here it's both an allergy and a reaction to the chili

[purplebass]

kellila & chilli!!

When I first read the prompt, I imagined a funnier story (which I have put in my inspo doc so I may write it in the future). But then I had the idea of researching chili on wiki and the rest is history lmao so this story turned out a little angsty but it has a good ending so I hope you like this! :)

Lila had seen the plant with the yellow and red fruits that looked like deflated strawberries and had decided to try one even though Kell had kept repeating that she shouldn’t eat something if she didn’t know what it was, and that it could be poisonous.

“What’s the worst that can happen? A stomachache?” she had laughed then, but after ingesting just one fruit, her mouth was on fire, she was short of breath, and she started to sweat even though the weather was not that warm.

She felt like crap, but she tried to pretend that she was fine, until her legs gave out and she saw black, and the last words she heard were as hasari.

“Saints, Lila,” were the first words she heard when she opened her eyes again to a grumpy Kell staring at her from above, one of his hands checking the side of her neck, realizing with shock that she was on the ground. “If I hadn’t been here –” he stopped himself from uttering the words out loud, and hugged her body to his, and she could feel his pounding heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his coat, and she really meant it.

[tuiyla]

“Why isn’t Santana nicer after coming out”

Okay so I bring this up in the meta post I’m working on and I don’t want to hijack a post about Quinntana with just my issues on how the fandom perceives Santana so here goes, side note rant post.

As a Santana stan first human being second Gleek third, there are many many aspects of the larger fandom’s interpretation of Santana’s character that bother me. Unsurprisingly to anyone who’s talked to me for more than a second most of my issues come down to a gross misunderstanding of her inner turmoil and particularly all the mess surrounding IKAG. Santana spell it out in Sexy when she confesses her love for Brittany that she’s a bitch because she’s angry and she’s angry because she’s scared. Some people, even though it’s an excellent moment of self-reflection that could serve as a basis for understanding much of Santana’s character, still choose to get so close to the point and then miss it by about a mile.

I’m referring to the take that “Santana should have just been nicer when she was out.” I’ve witnessed legitimate confusion surrounding her behaviour post-outing (emphasis on outing) because people are shocked she’s still a bitch even after that, I suppose. Her anger and therefore her bitchiness was supposed to come from fears regarding her sexuality, so being out should solve all her problems and make her a nice person, right? I hope that writing it out like that makes people see the problem here. First off, obviously and most importantly but somehow still in a “needs to be said” way: Santana was outed. She didn’t come out, she was outed. She was terrified of what people would say if they knew she was a lesbian and then suddenly everyone knew, before she was ready. Shocking, I know, but for some reason that didn’t solve all her problems. Not to mention, being out came at the cost of being rejected by a close family member that undoubtedly shook her sense of self. That Santana continued to be angry “even after” having been outed shouldn’t be some big revelation. No shit she didn’t suddenly find enlightenment and inner peace upon being dragged out of the closet through an act of cruelty.

Second, coming out, even when one is outed as a lesbian to her whole state on television, is a process. Santana’s main source of fear wasn’t the process of coming out but the state of being perceived as the Other. She was terrified of being an outsider and judged for her sexuality and her fears are only proven right once the secret is out. That’s something she’ll carry for the rest of her life, even when she’s happily married and her relationship with her grandmother begins to mend. And that’s not to sound all bleak about queer existence because it doesn’t mean she’s doomed for a sad, angry life or anything, it just means that dealing with her deepest insecurities and fears is... a process. When we leave Santana as a newlywed, she’s around 21 years old. Honestly, it’d be a miracle if she had it all figured out by that point, particularly given her acute allergic reaction to vulnerability. Does she strike you as the kind of girl who willingly walks into therapy to sort out her misplaced feelings of anger? Didn’t think so.

Third, and this is two-fold, Santana is both considerably softer in the later seasons than she used to be and she’s also just never going to be a nice person, period. We could make it three-fold and point out that progress isn’t linear but let’s take it one step at a time. Santana is a kind person but not a nice one. From season 3B onwards and particularly in seasons 4 and 5 we see her forming deeper bonds with people other than Brittany and she even has a realization about using her bitch powers for good by the end of season 5. She has been using them for good ever since she first opened herself up to the possibility of letting people in and being her true self around them. So to me, complaining that Santana isn’t suddenly a ~much better person~ after being out is faulty on account of her does becoming a better friend and person as the show goes on. I think people’s problem is that she doesn’t become nice, but like I said that’s because she’s not. She just isn’t. In my ideal Glee future where Santana does get the help she needs and sorts out her emotional baggage, she becomes a much healthier adult capable of not sabotaging her friendships. But that still doesn’t make her nice. She will always have her signature snark and and she’ll always be ready to dish some insults out. Is that a good thing, that’s not the point here. The point is that she does become less cruel and more open to letting her kind heart actually show as the series goes on and still being rude to people doesn’t negate that.

I could go on, such as about the fact that Santana’s still a fictional character whose snappy one-liners and page-long takedowns are a part of her appeal. Glee wasn’t gonna stop utilizing Naya’s comedic delivery and turn Santana into a less recognizable version of herself, nor should they have. And like I say, nor should Santana’s continued prickly behaviour take away from the fact that she does soften as the show goes on. Then we have the issue of progress not being linear and faling back into old habits being perfectly realistic, and then we can also talk about how Santana’s issues go far beyond accepting her sexuality so it’d be unrealistic for her to drop her all defense mechanisms even if she becomes perfectly content sexuality-wise. She rightly identifies fears about being perceived and judged for her sexuality in Sexy and concludes that that’s why she’s angry and lashing out all the time, but it’s only a source of that. Although it’s a big part of her character and journey, it’d be wrong to reduce Santana just to her sexuality. That’s how you reach false conclusions like “oh she should have just been way nicer post-season 3,” because you ignore her general feelings of insecurity and how deep-seated this instinct to close off and lash out is.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this impromptu Santanalysis post, it’s been a while since I’ve written one not as a reply to an ask. Quinntana post coming soon, until then please remember to read way too much into a decade old silly Fox show and when someone misinterprets your faves, go get that shovel and start digging.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Fic Title: Ready for Love, Ready for War

Okay, so I've thought about this for a hot minute, which is why i didn't answer right away! (also, hiiii!)

This would be a two-parter. And for my life, I wanted to see this written for someone other than Bucky/Steve, but come on... it's so \perfect\ for them.

Ready for Love:

Genre: fluff/angst

Synopsis:

Starts out with typical childhood friends. Except both boys are deathly ill. They'd met in the nurse's office at school one afternoon, both boys coming down with different illnesses; Steve being anaemic and Bucky just being allergic to some food he was unaware of and had a reaction. They'd bonded so well over this, and thought it was \so cool\. Cue them entering secondary school; they'd been closer than ever, consistently over each other's houses, glued to the hips, the pair of them. But then pubery hits.

Bucky grows taller and taller, while poor, sickly Steve remains stubborn and tiny. Often, he'd get into fights in high school and usually lose... but not before Bucky was there to rescue him... always his saviour, bucky. It wasn't until one Wednesday night that Bucky had been asked out by the popular cheerleader in the school. Bucky agreed, leaving Steve to fend for himself. Soon after, Bucky's presence in Steve's life decreased when he started dating Dot.

Steve was proud of his friend for scoring the hottest girl in the school. After all, who wouldn't be supportive? But then, days became weeks between Bucky and Steve hanging around each other. And Steve started to feel more lonely than ever, even before he'd met Bucky in primary school.

It wasn't until one day in tenth grade that Steve realised no girl would ever like him. He was too skinny, too short, too \nerdy\ to be enjoyed by other girls. It wasn't much later that Bucky had broken up with Dot and returned to Steve's side. During twelfth grade, Bucky had confessed to why he had broken up with Dot. He had feelings for someone else. Steve tried to get the information out of him, but Bucky was too stubborn to speak about his feelings. And again, he shut down.

It wasn't until Bucky had enlisted in the military that he confessed his true secret; he was gay and in love with someone he knew he would have a chance with. Steve wasn't concerned for his sexuality, after all, Steve himself had caught his thoughts roaming around while thinking of Clark Gable and Marlon Brando. Maybe he, himself, wasn't exactly as straight as he felt himself to be, either.

It was the day before Bucky had gone off to boot camp that they shared their first kiss.

Sequel: Ready for War

It was months after Bucky had been shipped overseas to fight in the war. Steve wasn't worried; he knew Bucky would return to him. He'd promised, after all. Bucky had promised that after the war had been won, they could run away together and live in a town, away from everyone they knew, and start fresh as a couple.

But Bucky never returned Steve's letters—and boy, did he send plenty of them. He never gave any personal information away in the letters for fear that Bucky wouldn't want his bunkmates to know anything.

It was on a sunny, cloudless day that Sarah, Steve's mother, called for him in a voice Steve had never heard before. This caused Steve to worry in absolute fear. He'd run down the stairs and look at the open front door, where two men in uniform stood, blocking out the rays of sunshine behind them.

Steve knew, he knew what these men were here for, as one of them reached into the bag they were holding, only to pull out several of Steve's unopened letters.

[enderon]

This is kind of a play off an old project I did a million years ago, but I'm currently rewatching the entirety of The 7D and taking note of certain things, for the sake of my own stories and OC stuff. Here's what I've got for the first 4 episodes so far, for those that are interested.

Episode 1

The Long, Long Winter 

FOCUS CHARACTER:

n/a

LORE:

Jollywood Joe is a magical ‘spring’ chicken who’s clucks end winter in the enchanted forest

He lives on top of Mt. Jollywood

CONFLICT:

The Glooms freeze Jollywood Joe so he can’t end winter in the enchanted forest, forcing it to get so cold that Queen Delightful and the Jollywoodians have no choice but to move elsewhere

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

Queen Delightful’s castle

Mt Jollywood

Jollywood Joe’s perch

The Gloom’s cottage

CHARACTERIZATION:

Doc

Is a bit of an adrenaline junkie/thrill seeker

NEW CHARACTERS:

Jollywood Joe

Itsy Bitsy Spider Fighters

FOCUS CHARACTER:

Grumpy

The misunderstanding over his fear of the giant spider versus the normal little spider is the main joke/conflict

LORE:

n/a

CONFLICT:

The Glooms think Queen Delightful is scared of spiders, so Hildy turns Grim into a giant spider and sets him loose in the castle. The 7D try to catch the little spider from earlier, with only Grumpy seeing Grim as the giant spider. 

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

The 7D’s Mine

Queen Delightful’s castle

The Gloom’s cottage

CHARACTERIZATION:

Lord Starchbottom

Terrified of spiders

Sneezy

Scared of spiders - he gets over it pretty quickly

Grim Gloom

Terrified of spiders

NEW CHARACTERS:

n/a

Episode 2

Sneezin Season

FOCUS CHARACTER:

Grumpy

He keeps getting blasted away by Sneezy’s sneezes and ends up having to stay at the castle, till a solution can be found. 

The Glooms keep trying to get his beard hairs for a spell. He makes use of Sneezy’s sneezes to save the day.

Sneezy

Trying to figure out what keeps causing his huge sneezes that keep sending Grumpy flying. His sneezes are used to save the day.

LORE:

Jollyberry pie festival

Begun by Queen Whimsical

Queen Delightful’s great great grandmother

The ruler makes pies that everyone in Jollywood then use in a village wide pie throwing fight

CONFLICT:

The Gloom’s are tricking to get some of Grumpy’s beard hairs, but keep getting thwarted when Sneezy’s sneezes keep blasting both him and them away. It happens frequently enough that they start to think Sneezy is allergic to Grumpy, not realizing he’s actually allergic to Bob the squirrel.

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

Queen Delightful’s castle

The 7D’s cottage

The Gloom’s cottage

CHARACTERIZATION:

Sneezy

His sneezes when caused by an allergic reaction to squirrels are strong enough to blast Grumpy all the way around the globe

The 7D

They’re so close that one of them having to move-out/stay away, even for one night, makes them really sad and miss each other

NEW CHARACTERS:

Bob the Squirrel

The Delightful Diamond Mystery

FOCUS CHARACTER:

n/a

LORE:

Supposedly, ghosts haunt Queen Delightful’s caslte

CONFLICT:

The Delightful Diamond (Queen Delightful’s favorite diamond) goes missing and they believe it’s been stolen. In the ends it’s discovered that it was no actually ‘stolen’, instead it was taken by Sir Yipsalot, because it’s ball shaped and Queen Delightful has been trying to teach him how to play fetch with a ball.

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

Queen Delightful’s castle

The 7D’s cottage

CHARACTERIZATION:

Lord Starchbottom

Enjoys reading mystery novels

Sir Yipsalot 

When he hears the word ‘fetch’ will seek out and fetch anything ball shaped, but takes it to a hiding place

NEW CHARACTERS:

The Magic Mirror

Episode 3

Mirror, Mirror

FOCUS CHARACTER:

Magic Mirror

The conflict revolves around her being stolen

LORE:

Schmagoogles & Kazinskys 

Units of distance measurement

CONFLICT:

Hildy Gloom wants a magic mirror that will tell her she’s the fairest in the land, but when the mirror Grim buys her ends up being busted and obnoxious, he steals Queen Delightful’s magic mirror and replaces it with the busted one. The 7D then try to get the magic mirror back.

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

The 7D’s cottage

Queen Delightful’s castle

The Gloom’s cottage

Scalawag’s Magic Mirror Showroom

CHARACTERIZATION:

The Magic Mirror

Helps Queen Delightful do her morning work-outs

Is romantically interested in the busted magic mirror

Lord Starchbottom

Wants to handle things himself, instead of calling the 7D

NEW CHARACTERS:

Scalawag

Busted Magic Mirror

The Big Bash

FOCUS CHARACTER:

Bashful

LORE:

Sky Buckets

A transportation invention of Doc’s that allow for faster travel within Jollywood

‘Floom’

A curse word in the enchanted forest

CONFLICT:

Bashful accidentally causes Queen Delightful’s special new sky bucket to crash into the stage, causing problems (in his eyes). He feels so bad that he’s too sad to show back up, but through a series of mishaps ends up saving her from the Glooms, though under the guise of the secret identity ‘The Big Bash’. 

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

The village

The 7D’s cottage

Queen Delightful’s castle

The Gloom’s cottage

CHARACTERIZATION:

Bashful

Has a crush on Queen Delightful

Writes people apology notes when he feels guilty

Grumpy

Can’t keep up with Doc’s techno talk

NEW CHARACTERS:

Boppy and his mom

Episode 4

Surprise

FOCUS CHARACTER:

Grim

He is watching the 7D to try and figure out how to throw a surprise party for Hildy

Lord Starchbottom

He is trying to do everything he can to keep Queen Delightful out of the castle until sundown and in the end it is revealed to be a surprise party for his birthday

LORE:

n/a

CONFLICT:

The 7D are trying to put on a surprise party for Queen Delightful’s birthday and task Lord Starchbottom with keeping her out of the castle until sundown. In the end, it’s revealed to actually be a surprise party for Lord Starchbottom himself. Having listened in, Hildy then tasks Grim with providing her with a surprise party and spying on the 7D to figure out how to do so. 

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

The Waffle Schnitzel 

Queen Delightful’s castle

The Gloom’s cottage

CHARACTERIZATION:

Hildy Gloom

Has no friends and everyone who sees her goes running because of her reputation as a witch 

NEW CHARACTERS:

Peaches

Welcome to the Neighborhood

FOCUS CHARACTER:

Happy

The Gloom’s prey on his desire for neighbors and general open and welcomeness to get into the 7D mine

LORE:

Because of the threat of the Glooms, the 7D blindfold all visitors to the mine to keep the entrance a secret

A dragon lives in the depths of the 7D mine, where they dump their rubbish

The Rock of Sages

Looks very different from and contradicts the lore shared in the episode ‘The Rock of Sages’

Could be seen as a false ‘Rock of Sages’ with a false lore, spread to keep people from discovering the truth of and putting back together the real rock

CONFLICT:

The Glooms pretend to be new dwarf neighbors to get in the 7D’s mine so that they can find the Rock of Sages. 

LOCATIONS: 

Jollywood

The 7D’s cottage

The 7D’s mine

CHARACTERIZATION:

Happy

Has always wanted next-door neighbors

The 7D

Their ‘nice clothes’ are lederhosen and clogs

Prior to the episode ‘Rock of Sages’, they had never heard of it

Bashful

Due to his shyness, his reaction to people visiting is to pop out and surprise them 

Grumpy

His hobbies include sewing, cheese eating, & wrestling

Dopey

Does a ‘bear in the hat’ or ‘skunk in the hat’ trick for all visitors

NEW CHARACTERS:

n/a

[pain-is-too-tired]

Literally.

Me adding onto this because I love my boys-

Like, this isn't like he was visiting Nico's family in another country and was disrespecting traditions or whatever.

He was dying.

That's like you took your boyfriend to see your parents who had a cats and you got upset from how he reacted to things why he, deathly allergic to cats, was having a bad reaction and was struggling not to faint.

Not to say Nico was only one in wrong btw, he's use to the underworld so it doesn't cross his mind how things like that might look to anyone else.

Will is blunt. He speaks his mind lot of the time. Partly due to adhd, maybe even partly due to the fact he's son of Apollo, a god of truth. But he's constantly questioning himself when he does say things and get a negative reaction. He's worrying over what he's done wrong most of the time Nico gets upset. Especially when he asks questions that really makes sense to someone who knows hardly anything about the underworld. Like being surprised things grow in the underworld. The literal home of the dead. Though he says it in a way that comes off crude.

(We can also talk about how autistic coded both boys are but that's a talk for another time-)

Nico is reacting as someone feels connected to the underworld and understands it.

Will is reacting as someone who is learning about it for the first time. Who wants to understand if for Nico's sake.

But is also scared that he'd never be able to share that part with him, and is scared to lose him because of it.

One of his literal nightmares involves him being unable follow him, of Nico standing where he himself is untouched by but Will isn't as safe in and being pushed by dream Nico to keep on. To the point he follows him in despite how much it hurts. He doesn't want to lose Nico. He fears Nico either leaving him or dying. Which fuels his need to always be trying to help Nico. To be useful.

His other nightmare fuels that. He's desperately trying to save Nico. Desperately trying to keep him alive, he's being berated the whole time. And when he can't do it? When he can't heal him? He's drained of life by Nico. As if the only way he could be useful if he can't truly help him is to give all his energy and life to him.

Actual line cause I recently reread a couple scenes and omgs- ouch.

"I can do this!" Will said,sobbing. "I can save you!"

Nico's eyes opened,but they were milk white.

"No," He said, smiling coldly. "You can't.

He grabbed Will's wrist. Will yelped in protest. His light began to drain away,flowing into Nico's body. As Nico's color returned,he sat up and pushed Will to the ground while the others looked on approvingly.

"Finally, you're good for something," Lester said. "You make an excellent spare battery."

Page:116

Just. Gods....

But yeah.

Like they make it pretty clear that both are on edge and both don't share as much as they could.

The book literally tells us that BOTH have a view of the other they've built in their head that's the other encourges in some ways.

Nico even admits to contributing partly to that view when they're talking at the end.

And Will's,as previously stated, insistence to help others more then be helped, to be useful, fuels Nico's view of him not having as much guilt of his own. That Will can care for just about anyone.

I talk mostly of Will here cause I see more hate on him. Nico's moments of frustration is usually seem through his pov more then Will's is from his own. One of the scenes where he snaps at Nico is after Nico started up that Will wouldn't have anything to feel guilty about enough to be scared of the Acheron. And Will immediately brings up that Nico hadn't done anything to deserve punishment over. And Nico gets mad,saying that Will doesn't know what all he's had to do and all.

That's when Will snaps about Nico not telling him.

And honestly, the books kinda gives a feel it's portraying Will is more in the wrong here? Like he's the one to apologize immediately, Nico is the one who stays upset. He only kinda apologizes because he walked away from him when he still needed help cause he was still mad(which,Will immediately accepts, even if he gives the 'we'll talk later' look)

I don't know if that's really intentional to say the book thinks Will is in the wrong more. I think it's cause it's seen from Nico's pov.

Kinda wished we gotten Will's in this scene? Because- both kinda had their wrong moments. Saying things in anger and such.

But Nico doesn't even think about why Will would feel that way. And it kinda ends up being Nico, again, still seeing him as this untouched ray of light healer that he openly shoots down the thought of Will's own trauma and feelings on the matter. Which, of course Will rightfully gets upset. He even backs away. Described with a haunted look in his eyes. Even this he tries to reassure Nico that he doesn't deserve punishment for anything. And it's pretty much both getting upset because of how they feel about their trauma and feel their partner is treating it, despite not having truly shared everything.

It's just Will that states the problem out right. Even if he hasn't shared all his feelings and experiences with Nico in full either.

Overall,it's two 15-16 yr old who been through three wars. I think if we had gotten a bit more of Will's pov when he's very obvious thinking of his trauma think these fights and such might've been seen in a now even ground.

Even then, Nico states openly certain aspects to that can feel in that gap. Like how he realizes in some form why Will might be scared of the river when he hears what Achreon has become and why. Even then it's more focused on recognizing how much of others burdens and actions he carries then his own. Then using the Octavian thing as the main point why on the River didn't help for sure. It also brings up Nico noticing after they're shown how Gorgyra can read their own souls that he recognizes the look of loneliness on Will's face.

Anyway. Sorry kinda high jacked this gfdgf but I have lots of feelings on especially Will's state in the book. Mainly cause I relate to him more hdhdh

But yeah. Will and Nico both are a pair who had to take on a lot at a young age and in turn repressed a lot of emotions that they're now working through together on✨️ Nico's is just told to us out right why Will's is shown ^^

Do people not have media literacy? BOTH the Underworld and Tartarus were literally KILLING Will just by him BEING THERE. His health started dropping as soon as they really got there. It wasn't outright stated, but that's what context clues are for. He's basically a flower, which is extremely ironic with Apollo's love history. Flowers wilt, and die, without sunlight.

Yeah, Nico is a child of the Underworld, and Will needed to accept that he didn't need to be constantly saved. However, it's in Will's nature to be against the Underworld in a mental mindset. He lost every single one of his siblings except for TWO during TBOL and Manhattan. Events we NEVER see him mention (probably because Rick is really bad at having characters that aren't a select few ever have their trauma brought up, but yknow) to anyone.

Will isn't the only one that had things to work on, though. If Nico hadn't thought things out rationally, hadn't calmed down before thinking, he could've been the indirect reason Will died in Tartarus. The thing is, Nico STRUGGLED to think rationally, and we see it when he lashes out on Will before thinking AFTER the fact.

Bottom of the line: Will isn't a bad person for not liking the Underworld. And it's something he says he's working on at the end of TSATS, so people shouldn't fault him for it. The entire point of the book was them both having problems & their relationship not being all sunshine & rainbows.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Wait, isn't "anti" stuff more like "anti-pedophilia" and stuff? Like, you have a point about anti-porn attitudes, but from what I've heard just "anti" on its own means against stuff like kid porn and incest porn and legitimately f*cked up sh*t like that.

Okay!  So this, I think, is actually a great example of what I was talking about, and a really useful thing to understand.  (CW rape, child abuse, etc)

Smarter people than me have written much better essays about why policing thoughtcrimes is a bad road to go down, and I will probably reblog some of them next time they cross my dash for more context.  What I want to talk about is the trigger mechanism, the ‘oh, this looks like danger!!!’ immune response in how we look at different kinds of porn, and how that applies to anti culture.

Here’s the thing: I am anti-pedophilia.  I think that, for most people, that’s a stance that largely goes without saying!  Adults who prey on children are bad.  I’m also against incest; relatives who prey on their family members are bad.  Above all I oppose rape.  Sexual predation of any kind is bad.  In fact, I’d say that’s the most important item on the list.  There is plenty of room to argue about where the lines are between ‘adult’ and ‘child’ and how teenagers fit in the middle, and there’s plenty of room to get historical about the lines between ethically terrible incest, distasteful-but-bearable “aristocratic inbreeding” between distant cousins, and the kind of consanguinity that tends to develop in a small town where everyone’s vaguely related to everyone else by now anyway.  The core of the issue is consent, and it has always been consent.  Pedophilia and incest are horrific because they are rape scenarios where the abuser has far more power and their victim far fewer resources to cope, both practically and emotionally; because harm to children is, to us as a culture, worse than harm to adults, for a lot of very valid reasons; and because they constitute betrayal of trust the victim should have been able to put in their abuser as well as rape--but they are all rape scenarios, and that’s why they’re awful. 

These things are bad.  It is good for us to have a social immune response system that recognizes these things when they’re happening and insists we step in.  That is a good thing to develop!  It helps us, as a society.  It can help the people being victimized.  It’s the same reason educators and childcare workers in the US are all mandated reporters, why we do background checks on people working near kids.  These things happen, and they’re terrible, and it’s good that we try to be aware and prepared for them.  (Though obviously studies show we’re a lot less good at protecting the vulnerable than we’d like to pretend we are.)

The question is: why does that same social immune response trigger, and trigger so angrily, in response to fiction?

Anti culture is fundamentally an expression of that social immune response.  Specifically, it’s that social immune response when it is set off by a situation that, while it has some similarities to the very bad real-life crime of sexual predation including pedophilia and incest, is in and of itself harmless.

If you’re instinct is to flare up in anger or dismissiveness because I’m calling these things harmless, I want to ask you to just take a deep breath and bear with me for a bit longer.  What you’re feeling right now is an allergic reaction.

Humans tell and read and listen to stories about “legitimately fucked up shit” all the time.  It’s part of the human condition.  It’s part of how we process those things happening, not just to use, but to other people in the world around us.  It’s part of how we process completely unrelated fucked-up shit, playing with fears and furies and insecurities that we all have, through so may layers of fiction that we don’t even recognize them any more, playing with power dynamics in metaphor and making characters suffer for fun.  Aside from the fact that literally all stories do this to some extent or another; aside from the fact that drawing lines between ‘ok that’s good storytelling’ and ‘that’s too fucked-up to write about’ is arbitrary, subjective, and dangerous in its own right; aside from all of that, these stories are stories.  All of them. 

Even the ones about rape, about incest, about pedophilia.  They’re words on a page.  No real children were harmed, touched, or even glanced at in the making of this work of fiction.  This story, pornographic though it may be, is part of a conversation between consenting adults.  (And if a teenager lies about their age to consent, that is a different problem altogether.)

Stories in and of themselves, no matter what they’re about, are no more dangerous than a crate full of oranges.  Which is to say: utterly harmless, unless all you have to eat is oranges, all day every day, and you find yourself dying slowly of nutrient deficiency--which is why representation matters.  Or unless someone wields one deliberately, violently, as a tool to cause harm, and someone gets acid in their eye--which is the fault of the person holding the orange. And unless you happen to be allergic to citrus.

The key here is this twofold understanding:  First, the thing that hurts you can also have value to others.  Real, legitimate value.  Whether you’ve undergone trauma and certain story elements are straight-up PTSD triggers or you just don’t like orange juice, that story, those tropes, that crate of oranges may be somewhere between icky and fundamentally abhorrent--but we understand that that is still your reaction.  Even if you don’t understand how anybody could ever enjoy it; even if every single person you surround yourself with is as sensitive and disgusted and itchy about this thing that makes your eyes hurt and your throat stop working as you; that doesn’t make it true for everyone.  That doesn’t make oranges poisonous.  No real children were involved in the writing of this story.  It is words on a page.

But, secondly: the thing that has value to others can also hurt you.  Just because a story isn’t inherently poison doesn’t mean it can’t cause you, personally, pain.  That’s what a PTSD trigger is: an allergic reaction, psychological anaphylaxis, a brain that’s trying so hard to protect its own from a threat that isn’t actually present (but was once, and the brain is trained to respond) that it causes far more harm and misery than the trigger itself possibly could.  And no, it’s not just people with PTSD who sometimes get hurt by stories.  There are many, many ways a story can poke the part of your brain that says, this is Bad, I don’t like this, I don’t want to be here.  The story is still, always, every time, pixels on a screen and ink on paper.  The story causes no physical harm.  But it can poke your brain into misery, it can stir up your emotions, it can make you want to cringe and run away.  It can make you want to scream and fight and go after the author who brought this thing into existence.  It can make you hurt.

This is an allergic reaction.  This is your brain and body, your reflexes and instincts, trying to protect you from something that isn’t really happening.  And just like a literal allergic reaction, it can do actual harm to you if it gets set off.  This is real.  The fact that stories can upset you to the point of pain and mental/emotional injury is real, even though it’s coming from your own brain and not the story itself.  There are stories you shouldn’t read.  There are stories I shouldn’t read, regret reading, will never read, because they hurt me.  That doesn’t mean they’re the same stories that would hurt you.  That doesn’t mean they don’t have value.

And, finally:

If getting upset about stories is fundamentally an individual person’s allergic reaction, their brain freaking out and firing off painful survival instincts in the face of a thing that isn’t, in and of itself, a threat?  Then the anti movement is a cultural allergic reaction.

Fandom as a whole has a pretty active immune system, which doesn’t mean we have a good immune system.  We try very hard to be aware of all the viruses and -isms and abuse and manipulation and cruelty, both systematic and individual, that exists around and within our community.  We’re primed and ready to shout about things at all times.  The anti movement is that system, that culture, screaming and shouting and fighting at a harmless thing on a grand scale.  It wants to stop that thing, that scary awful thing that trips all of its well-primed danger sensors, at all costs.  It’ll swell up and block off our airways (our archives) if it has to.  It’ll turn on the body it came from.  It’s scared and protective and trying to fight, and it’s ready to fight and destroy itself.

Luckily, fans and fanfic and fandom and fan culture are a lot bigger and older than they often get credit for, and it’s not like these cultural allergies are anything new.  We could talk about shippers and slashers in the X-Files fandom in the 90s.  We could talk about the birth of fandom in the days of Star Trek.  We could talk about censorship and book burning going back centuries.  We survived that and we’ll survive this, too.

But god, does the anti movement my throat and eyes itch.  Man is it irritating, and sometimes a little suffocating, to realize how many stories just aren’t getting told out of fear of what the antis will say.  And that’s the real danger, I think.  What are we losing that would have so much value to someone?  What are we missing out?

[imagine-silk]

Hi it's me again! I absolutely ADORED the way you wrote for my past ask and so here I am with another one! Could I request the FO4 companions with a Werewolf!SS (lycanthrope)? They're permanently in said lycanthrope form and many people are freaked out by them. In actuality they're very friendly and would prefer to avoid conflict. But should the need arise, they can easily tear something apart (much like a deathclaw). Sorry if this is long but tysvm if you do fulfill it 🤗

This took embarrassingly long to make, but it did make it in October! Happy Spoopy Season! But for real I am so sorry it took so long (TTMTT)

BASICS

You transformed when you exited the vault, almost like the air triggered it.

Most people don’t shoot you on sight because they’re just so terrified, which gives you the chance to talk and show you are no threat

After a while of doing quests for everyone around the Commonwealth they don’t really react in fear anymore unless they don’t hear you coming

The people of the Commonwealth unanimously agree to defend you against people who would do you harm because they know how much you dislike conflicts. Hell, they intervene when a merchant is trying to scam you.

Kids love you. To them you’re a form of controlled danger, like a roller coaster.

Raiders have the mixed reaction that boils down to shooting on sight or running away.

CAIT

When she met you she was so high she didn’t react to you being what you were. Tommy also keeps his composure but that was to hide the fact he’s shitting his pants. And when the high wears off she doesn’t know how to react so she’ll very scarcely refer to it. Only off-hand will she ever really say anything about it. “You hairy shite! You should’ve ripped him a new one. What’s the point of claws if you’re not gonna use ‘em?”

Your friendly nature is a lot more off putting than your snout. She was never really afforded kindness so to her this is all strange so her. But it did ease her into it considering you are a literal monster, it makes you so foreign it’s more digestible. Like a unicorn.

She doesn’t have that healthy fear of the supernatural that the Celtic usually do, so you won’t have her tell you about that folklore. Probably for the best, she most likely would’ve killed you if that were the case.

CODSWORTH

Recognizes you as soon as he sees you and sees no real issue with your transformation, because he's known since he met you before the war. You’ll have to explain why it’s dangerous to walk around in this form otherwise he’ll not really address it.

Tries to pamper you as much as he can. From his understanding the only times you transformed at home was when you were under a lot of stress, like when Shaun had an allergic reaction to the detergent and his chest was red, so he tries to soothe you in hopes to relieve tension. Every night he takes a brush to you and gently takes out all the knots he can find. He cooks all your meals and when you leave without him he packs you lunch. Makes sure no one disturbs you while you are in the house, it is your safe haven. And he knows the importance of you getting exercise so he asks you to fetch the water he uses for chores.

If someone says something rude about your supernatural form he will tell them off. How rude of them! Who are they to say you are lesser? You are perfect! The very model of a proper gentleman! No one in the commonwealth can compare! Good day to you!

CURIE

She will run tests on you, that’s just a fact. If you have any sort of healing factor she will experiment with it to make new cures. In the name of science she will need a blood, hair, skin, and nail sample (more invasive test pending).

Your dog face has no real effect on her one way or another socially. She simply talks to you, nothing new there. If someone mentions it she will ask why it matters and most of the time that person will back off.

You two are an odd pair to see in the wild. A traveling Miss Nanny medic and a standing yao guai who both will do anything to not fight but wreak face when they do. And let me tell you, when she becomes a synth you two are still confusing. This giant hulking beast with a petite woman with a pixie cut and a french accent. Strange.

DANSE

It is by the grace of god that he did not shoot you, or in this case gun smoke. After the meeting fight he goes over talking to you, as the fog clears and is not prepared to see the world’s hairiest deathclaw.

He will punch you a few times when you show up out of nowhere and god forbid if you try to scare him intentionally. Contrary to popular belief he’s not that trigger happy to accidentally shoot you, however if you scare him before he’s used to you it won’t be accidental.

Not going to lie, he will not trust you fully until he’s depresso espresso after blind betrayal. His whole world view banked on preserving humanity, so when his humanity was questioned and found wanting it made him question it for the first time. And when you are there for him he wonders why; Why did you help him even when he was more than rude to you? Why did you smile after avoiding a fight with someone asking for one? Why were you upset when you couldn’t avoid it? Why did you save him? Why did he never consider you a person before?

DEACON

Because you transformed immediately after you left the vault he saw you change. It freaked him out and immediately thought you were going to be a huge problem. A person came out of a vault that has never opened ever and they turned into a werewolf! But he calmed down when he realized you couldn’t transform back and forth. No surprises.

When you finally meet he doesn’t react to you and you find that very very strange but you appreciate it nonetheless. Of course he doesn’t tell you he already knows you’re friendly and nonviolent and you become fast friends. 

He even makes plans of attack; Sick ‘em = where he pretends to be a merchant and threatens them with his vicious mandog, Get help = pretends to be seeking refuge running away from a monster, or his personal favorite Follow me = You lead them with your voice and then show yourself when they can’t run back. All of them focus on scaring them away.

Unlike Cait he knows all the folklore but he just jokingly throws sticks and says fetch. If you do chase it he does it every now and again when you are just traveling. If you don’t find it amusing he nervously laughs and never does it again.

DOGMEAT

woof

HANCOCK

Without him Good Neighbor would have killed you. Daisy and KLEO alone had their guns out the second you walked through the doors and best believe Finn didn’t offer you protection. But when he heard you say hello he still tried to scare you. But to everyone’s surprise you didn’t attack him, Hancock dealt with him. RIP dumbass. He calmed down all the watching bystanders and turned to address you smiling with blood on his face.

If you have a problem with his willingness to kill he will offer to join in your pacifism, as long as you are able to avoid it. Like, you would have to be cornered and even then he would deal with it for you. It’s a real Spiderman and Deadpool situation.

Checks in with you to see if you're doing okay. He treats you no differently just because you’re a bit hairier than everyone else. People treat him differently because of his lack of hair so as long as you have empathy he has no problem with you.

MACCREADY

He actually laughed when he first met you. Not because he thinks you’re funny but because he’s terrified and doesn’t know how to express it. It boils down to a nervous chuckle when you ask if he’s for hire because now he’s not only terrified, he’s confused. You want him to protect you? That sounds inaccurate no matter how good of a shot he thinks he is.

Is very good company for you. Don’t like fighting? He doesn’t like close quarter fighting so it’s never an option to go in guns blazing. He’ll pick them off from a safe distance because let’s be real, raiders don’t specialize in snipers and gunners only shoot when there is money to be made. You can even have a casual talk with him while he does it.

Your hairy disposition becomes endearing after a while. Like, “Yeah, that’s my best friend. They’re almost seven feet tall.” “You know they hate fighting right? Yeah, they can’t stand it.” “Aye aye! Be careful! You’re not invincible.” The way he talks about you varies from helpfully informing to bragging. If you romance him he says things like, “Aren’t they cute?” or “How did I get so lucky?” and those around him just kinda shrug.

NICK

Is surprisingly unfazed by your appearance. He just looks up at you and goes, “Well that’s new.” He’ll laugh and say something about the hero being the monster. If you're put off by that comment he’ll apologize, to him it was just a comical fairy tale stereotype and not a hill to die on.

Has also been called a monster so anytime you feel conflicted he’ll give you a little pep-talk. He’ll bring up the fact that you save people regularly and go out of your way to avoid conflict, he doesn’t believe a monster would do that.

Did at one point save you from a mob single-handedly. You know how he knows everyone, well he talks down several people in the crowd. Even throws in, “I’m not human. What makes me different?” Very risky but it disperse the crowd.

PIPER

Somehow more invasive than Curie. Because instead of her research being for science it's for a newspaper. You did it because she is very persistent and you don't like fighting. Even if some of the interview is flattering it's still a little uncomfortable.

But she's very tricky and as mush as she gets into situations she gets herself out of them. She is confrontational but only to the degree of revealing the truth.

McDonough gets excited when he sees you. To him you're tourist attraction. He'll offer you a house immediately and Piper snarks at him. But for real, you can make deals with him. Like agreeing to live there or greet people or even having some sort of shop. Piper is conflicted about it though. On one hand she hates him but on the other you can be a spy or something.

PRESTON

Not gonna lie, when you went to help him he didn't call out to you. He hid, terrified he got this far only to get everyone killed, even more scared he would survive. Barred the door and only opened it when a stranger asked if they were okay and that they took care of the raiders. As relieved as he was he opened the door and was greeted by you.

Because you immediately and continuously help him and his wards he very quickly gets used to you and your uncommon figure. It's an added bonus that you detest violence. Makes it easier to trust you, but harder to assign you to get rid of raiders.

With your kind nature he feels stronger, more dependable. And because your less confrontational he steps up as general. Being with the Minutemen works for you. They're a hand-holding militia not a brute military so killing is not the main priority.

X6-88

What a fascinating person you are, scientifically and in identity. Scientifically you are a human who transforms into a bi-pedal wolf and due to unknown circumstance cannot turn back. But also you personally have the capacity to cause so much damage and yet you refuse to.

He has no issue killing for you just as much as he has no real issue using non-lethal force. Sometimes he does think it's stupid but it's not him decision to make. Besides, the institute is more than capable of make tear gas and things of that likeness.

If some scientist pressures you into experiments he will find out and supervise it. Most of the scientist are afraid of him so they'll either drop it or conduct low-stake tests. If the scientist is invasive and holds neither of you in regard he will remove you from the situation. If the scientist protest he will use force.

[kstewdeux]

@inukag-week​

June 17th, 2022 - Teasing

Summary: Kagome and Inuyasha both think the other is playing mind games because they’re both insecure idiots.

Disclaimer: Here is me yet again not necessarily following the intent of the prompt but alas I have run out of time. This was originally written for Valentine’s Day and has just been sitting in drafts. tbh I’m not sure if I just did some variant of this for Valentine’s Day. No idea what I’m doing with my life.

Tapping her lips anxiously with the tips of her joined fingertips, Kagome looked down at the empty box of chocolates she’d purchased for Shippo with concern written all over her face. The thief had ignored the very nice safe gummy candies she’d purchased. Ignored the handwritten cards. All the thief cared about was the box of chocolates with a cute little white dog holding an ‘I love you’ written on the lid. As awkward as the situation could be for reasons other than Inuyasha’s potentially imminent demise, there was the issue of Inuyasha’s potentially imminent demise. Surely though, surely Inuyasha wasn’t allergic to chocolate like domesticated dogs. He’d be fine probably. Totally fine.

But…there was no Inuyasha to be seen. If the chocolate did make him ill, he most likely was hiding so no one would see because god forbid someone help. Of all the things he did, the refusal to let anyone help him was quite possibly the most annoying.

“Inuyasha left on a perimeter run,” Miroku suddenly offered after the slayer asked where the half-demon had gone. Both of them completely oblivious to the issue at hand. Kagome winced and cringed before tapping her fingertips together. In theory, just in theory, Inuyasha was somewhere having the same reaction domesticated dogs did when exposed to chocolate. Alternatively, he was hiding from her wrath upon having realized those chocolates weren’t for him. Either way, she needed to find him and coax him back.

“Which way did he go?” Kagome sighed wearily – lowering her hands and glancing anxiously around the tree line. That would be his move. To hide because he didn’t feel well. Not wanting to show weakness or be babied. Probably scared because since when did he get sick with anything. In all honesty, she should’ve just given the little treats to everyone when she first got back but, like an idiot, she decided to wait until Valentine's Day to hand them out. What did it even matter? Wasn’t like the feudal era honored Valentine’s Day or any Western tradition. It…

A small momentary flash of red in her periphery and a flare of Inuyasha’s aura had Kagome’s head whipping to her left.

“I’ll be right back,” she muttered to the others as she quickly turned and started heading towards where the half-demon had to be hiding. It probably would have behooved her to have brought some water or a barf bag but she didn’t want to panic unnecessarily. She just…needed to check and make sure she hadn’t inadvertently poisoned the poor man. Could be she was being paranoid over nothing. Inuyasha was a man after all and not a dog so it actually was entirely unlikely that he shared allergies with the average domesticated pet. Still, rational or not, she still worried and she still wanted to make sure he hadn’t…

Looking up into the tree branches, the first thought Kagome had upon seeing his visibly deflated form was that her worst fears had been realized but given that he didn’t look all that green, she was still going to be optimistic and assume that his drooping ears were because he thought she was coming to yell at him for eating the chocolates. Given the weary side-eyed glare he sent down at her, that seemed to be the logical option. What a relief.

“There you…” “Thanks for being a friend?” Inuyasha’s interrupted acidly as he glared down at her from his perch, “Thanks for being a friend? Are you serious?” Furrowing her brow, Kagome opened then closed her mouth a few times as she tried to figure out what exactly she’d done to elicit such an angry reaction. Inuyasha thankfully seemed to realize he’d missed a crucial piece of evidence. “The card idiot,” Inuyasha huffed as he held up the offending piece of pastel pink paper Kagome hadn’t realized was missing, “The card you wrote for me. Thanks for being my friend. This is a joke, right?”

Swallowing thickly, Kagome’s mind raced a mile a minute to figure out what was offensive and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. “A-are we not friends?” she tried in an extremely hurt tone before her stomach absolutely dropped at his reply. “Are we not friends?” Inuyasha mocked acidly from atop his branch - his amber eyes reflecting hurt and confusion, “You’re fucking with me, right? That isn’t…isn’t…” Trailing off, Inuyasha appeared to have realized something. For the longest moment, there was a tense silence between the two. Unbeknownst to the other, both of the teenagers were having trouble breathing for a very similar reason. “Wait, why…are you here?” Inuyasha finally mumbled - his tone softer and more afraid than she’d ever heard it before. It was hard to tell from this angle but she could have sworn the wind wasn’t strong enough to be rippling his clothing like that. Was he shaking?

That wasn’t good. “Well, so, you might eaten something that will make you sick,” Kagome admitted nervously - her heart in her throat and her nerves frazzled. It took a moment for her to remember why she’d come searching for him in the first place, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Why get me something that’d make me sick?” Inuyasha asked hoarsely - his face turning to stare at her although he made no effort to move from his safe haven. Something visibly broke behind those two expressive amber eyes as his face paled then turned a little green.

Oh boy.

“Well they weren’t for you. I got you something else,” Kagome clarified hesitantly and judging by how he appeared to be fighting off nausea, she believed she had her answer. “So did you eat them?” Kagome tried to confirm and looking even more green, Inuyasha nodded once. His gaze distant and horrified like he was going into shock.

“W-why’d you bring them?” Inuyasha asked distractedly - his voice strained and confused, “If they’re poison, if they could kill me, why bring them at all?”

“Well, in my time, there’s a, uh, holiday where you give people you care about gifts. Candy. Chocolates. So I brought each of you candy but, um, dogs can’t eat chocolate. It’s toxic for them and I worried that giving you chocolate might make you sick so I got you something else,” Kagome attempted to explain - feeling even more miserable and awkward when Inuyasha looked even more shell-shocked.

“Y-you think I’m a dog?” 

A second passed before he added in a somewhat disassociated voice, “N-no. No they had to be for me. The...the box had a white dog on it and said…it said …”

Inuyasha’s knees slowly began curling up until they hugged his chest, “You’re just messing with me, huh? Trying to be funny?”

Kagome cringed but was now more concerned than ever. Something was visibly wrong with Inuyasha. He looked a hair away from puking and a cold sweat was visible on his temple. Not to mention he was clearly going into shock.

“Okay. So first off, obviously I don’t think you are a dog. You are a man. But just like I can’t jump out of trees because I’d break my neck, I was worried that you couldn’t eat chocolate because of how you were built,” Kagome pointed out - deciding to focus on the most important issue first, “I’m really sorry I brought something like that. I’ll be more careful in the future, okay? Why don’t you come down and have the nice, safe gummy candies I got for you?”

Inuyasha simply gaped down at her like she’d grown a second head - his green facade turning blotchy as his chest began heaving.

One second passed then two and then…

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Inuyasha spat as he rolled off the branch and landed to stand over her, “WHAT DID I DO?!“

Startling slightly at this development, Kagome’s own temper flared to life - as a defense mechanism or something else she wasn’t sure.

“What are you even talking about?!” Kagome hissed back – completely baffled and hurt, “You’re not even making sense.”

“AM I A JOKE TO YOU?! JUST SOME HALF-BREED YOU CAN TOSS ASIDE WHEN BEING MORE THAN FRIENDS FINALLY GROSSES YOU OUT?!” Inuyasha bellowed - hurt and heartbreak written all over his face, “AT LEAST HAVE THE BALLS TO EXPLAIN WHY YOU’RE LEAVING ME INSTEAD OF WRITING PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE NOTES AND…”

“I WOULD NEVER CALL YOU A HALF….wait did you say more than friends?” Kagome abruptly changed her tone – her sapphire eyes growing wide and large as what he was so upset finally hit home, “What exactly do you think is happening?”

“You tell me,” Inuyasha challenged hatefully as he once again held up the pastel pink notecard, “Because I thought we were doing fine.”

“Okay. I did too but by fine, you mean…we were fine being more than friends? You thought we were more than friends?” Kagome tried to get some clarification and Inuyasha crumpled up the note in his palm.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!”

Kagome narrowed her eyes and scowled, “Am I kidding? What about you?! You never said anything about us being together. The only thing you’ve made clear is that you chose Kikyo.”

For the first time, Inuyasha seemed to realize his mistake. His face once again turning green as set he set and reset his jaw. A thousand emotions raced behind his expressive eyes - everything from relief to horror to heartbreak.

And then finally the emotion he seemed to land on was determination. Maybe. Honestly it was hard to tell.

“When? When did I say that?” Inuyasha huffed defensively, “Because last I checked I was very clear about how I felt about you.”

“I completely agree,” Kagome hissed and amber eyes widened in weary surprise at her adamant response, “So you don’t get to stand there and yell at me when all you’ve done is make me feel second best. You don’t get to…”

“The hell are you even talking about?! I straight up told you I loved you! I’ve never said that to anyone else ever. Not even Kikyo. What more do you want from me?” Inuyasha interrupted with a frustrated groan – his hands shooting up like they were going to strangle her, “And all this time you…this isn’t funny dammit. Whatever you’re doing stop it.”

Kagome huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Stop what?! Inuyasha, you have never told me…”

“I said stop!” he interrupted harshly as he literally trembled from holding some negative emotion back, “Enough! Your joke isn’t funny. I don’t…I…”

Kagome groaned softly as Inuyasha kept struggling to find the words he wanted - her mind trying and failing to turn over. If anyone was playing some cruel game, it was him.

“I’m not trying to trick you,” she finally sighed heavily - deciding to address the first issue, “I would never do that.”

The distrust and unease behind his eyes honestly made her feel a little ill. They needed to get on the same page and quickly. There had been more miscommunication than she’d realized.

“I legitimately thought we were only friends. That you were my best friend,” she continued when Inuyasha seemed more focused on staying calm, “But you said you love Kikyo. That you chose her. I never thought we were together.”

After a long painful moment, the gravity of the situation hit home and Inuyasha’s heart shattered behind his eyes.

“Wait. Wait. No. No, I told you,” he argued weakly, “I did. I-I told you and…and you…you…”

Closing his eyes when Kagome merely looked confused, InuYasha attempted to collect himself before trying again.

“I thought that…that I was clear,” he began hoarsely, “And that you…you loved me.”

Wincing, Kagome didn’t like how his voice cracked but she also didn’t like the idea that all those times he’d run off to Kikyo he had done so under the impression he was actually in a relationship with her. If these past few months were what being in a relationship with him would be like, Kagome suddenly wasn’t sure this was what she wanted.

“I have only ever thought we were friends,” Kagome confirmed awkwardly. For the longest time, Inuyasha remained silent with his eyes closed and his breathing somewhat unsteady - something so out of character Kagome began to get very concerned. There was, of course, still the issue of him eating chocolate and maybe, just maybe she was being a butt about this conversation but…but if anyone should be hurt by the number of times he’d hurt her it was her. How was one supposed to interpret almost getting murdered by someone (more than once) and having the man you love defend said person instead of taking your side? How else was she supposed to interpret him sending her home time and time again because he very explicitly told her he picked Kikyo? And all the times he ran off to see her? And all those times he’d thought…

“I-I told you though,” he repeated a little desperately - his voice shaking, “We were inside the tree, ya know, after you shot me and…had left. Isn’t that what made you come back? B-because you loved me back?”

Blinking rapidly, all Kagome could think was that Inuyasha was teasing her. Lying to her because, no, that was not correct.

“You didn’t say you loved me. You said you needed me…”

For a brief almost imperceptible moment, Inuyasha recoiled like she’d slapped him.

“Stop teasing me. This isn’t funny,” Inuyasha finally managed to choke out, “I-I know what I said. Don’t stand and lie to…”

Mind racing to capture the memory, Inuyasha simply trailed off while focusing on breathing regularly.

“You said you were scared to come back. Said that’s why you left and I said, very clearly, ‘I l-love you. Haven’t you realized…’”

Kagome sighed heavily as he froze then went rigid while those amber eyes betrayed his internal screaming.

“...that yet…oh shit,” Inuyasha breathed as his mouth fell partially open.

“Your words were ‘I need you beside me,’” Kagome corrected awkwardly - internally screaming herself when Inuyasha suddenly folded his arms tightly across his chest and clenched his eyes tightly shut.

A shuddering breath soon followed.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Inuyasha offered desperately - his eyes still closed like he was unwilling or unable to look at her, “J-Just tell me what you want me to do. I…look I’ve never…I don’t know how to fix this so tell me.”

There was something in his tone that had Kagome’s stomach churning and her anger began to fade as a result. That…that almost sounded like how he talked to Kikyo. He looked afraid and desperate and some other unidentified negative emotion. This…

“What are you wanting to fix?” Kagome finally asked - slowly and deliberately since there was a lot of miscommunication happening without her realizing, “What do you want?”

Pursing his lips to let out a controlled breath in an unexpected showing of frazzled nerves, Inuyasha finally opened his eyes and squared his shoulders.

“I want....I want us to be together,” Inuyasha managed much more confidently than he felt, “For you to give me a chance and…and, if you won’t, I want you to be nice to me still. I don’t wanna be afraid of you.”

Blinking rapidly, the next question and answer Kagome had for those first two statements flew the coop. This was new. Since when was Inuyasha direct like this? Honest like this?

“Afraid of me?” Kagome breathed in mild horror, “Why would you be scared of me?”

Swallowing thickly, amber eyes wavered slight then closed as he tried to pick his next words very carefully.

“Not afraid but…but until now, you’ve been nice. To me, ya know?” he began slowly - clearly trying to make sure he was explaining everything correctly, “I don’t want that to go away.”

Kagome felt her heart crack as Inuyasha licked his lips and clenched his eyes tighter shut like he was anticipating being hit.

“B-but I see now that I haven’t…I haven’t been clear,” he continued shakily, “I thought I knew what I was doing with you but...but it wasn’t what I thought and I need...how we are, in...in whatever way, to continue. Friends. Being together. Doesn’t matter. I just…I need you beside me. If that’s okay.”

Kagome did not like this version of Inuyasha. Scared and unsure. Lost. Desperate even. There was something disturbingly familiar about it that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kagome promised then and Inuyasha visibly wilted in relief.

“Good. That’s…that’s good,” he breathed before clearing his throat and addressing his next concern, “Ya know, I can change. Be different. I can. Just give me a…”

“Stop. Inuyasha stop” Kagome pleaded softly as she took a step forward and reached up to cup his cheek. A gesture he leaned into with a shaky sigh. For a moment, he rubbed his cheek against her palm before biting his lip and trying to get out what he needed to say.

“I don’t know how to…I don’t know things,” he mumbled, “I really thought…”

Her thumb gently stroked his cheek and he seemed to lose his train of thought. Humming, Inuyasha leaned into her touch and whatever tension he’d been holding melted away. Which was weird but it’d been a really weird day.

“That feels nice. I like it,” he admitted softly as he cracked one eye open to gauge her reaction. Despite that being the oddest thing Inuyasha has ever said to her, Kagome smiled sadly and decided not to make it that big an issue.

“I like when you talk to me,” she offered and Inuyasha nodded once in understanding before placing his hand over hers.

“I’ll work on that,” he promised before swallowing thickly and asking hopefully, “So…so you’re gunna give me a chance?”

“Of course,” Kagome laughed softly as she ran her thumb over his cheek again earning a content hum, “I love you.”

“Thought so,” he breathed in relief before turning his face to bury his nose in her palm, “You scared the shit outta me woman.”

A moment passed then two.

“My stomach does hurt,” he admitted with a groan as he pulled back and cringed.

“I don’t know if I can fix it but I can make it better,” Kagome cooed happily and Inuyasha nodded once in understanding before looking like he was going to seriously regret whatever he planned on saying next.

“I’d like that too but…but before we, uh, do anything, I want you to know that…that I don’t even understand why I’m like how I am with Kikyo,” he offered wearily, “That scares me. She’s hurt you and…and I let it happen and I still go and I don’t know why. But, for the record, I’ve...I’ve been trying to...”

“Well we’ve got time to figure everything out,” Kagome interrupted before smiling reassuringly, “I’m not going anywhere in the meantime.”

“I’m not either,” he mumbled earnestly, “I’m going to do better okay?” he insisted with a determined nod, “I just won’t go to her,” he let out a shuddering sigh, “I won’t. This can’t happen again.”

“Whether you go or not, it won’t,” Kagome hummed affectionately before looking off to the side and asking a question he was fairly certain he’d already answered, “What do you want?”

His sore stomach churned. Didn’t they just clear the air so to speak? Had she been fucking with him this entire time? Had he misunderstood the-

“Wha-“

“I mean, what have you been wanting to do since you thought we were together?” Kagome interrupted curiously as she took his hand and began leading his mildly relieved yet rattled form back towards camp, “Seems to me like you’ve been holding back.”

Wrinkling his nose in confusion, Inuyasha chewed the inside of his cheek while giving this clarified question some serious thought.

“I held back to protect you,” Inuyasha offered shakily, “It’s too dangerous to let people know. To be open about things. People’ll call you a dark miko. Kikyo’ll be back on her bullshit trying to kill you faster than I can blink. Naraku too. Nobody’s gotta know.”

“Oh they’re going to know. Now what do you want?” Kagome corrected earning a bemused groan.

“I’m fine with how things have be-“

“Well I’m not. Can I tell you what I want?” Kagome hummed and Inuyasha nodded once, “I want kisses and cuddles and hand holding.”

Inuyasha blushed at her wish list which seemed wildly inappropriate. As if they needed another reason for people to stare at them.

“I don’t want you to do that in public,” Inuyasha mumbled as he gave her hand a light squeeze, “But I w-won’t stop you if you do it when it’s just us.”

“What about around our friends?”

Inuyasha’s blush deepened even though he muttered a faint ‘guess that’d be okay.’ After a long moment, Inuyasha let out a soft sigh and cleared his throat.

“At night. I want to hold you at night.“

Kagome paused mid-step and blushed furiously. Inuyasha immediately backpedaled.

“I-I know what you’re thinking. S’not for th-,” he amended quickly, “For that. I just…I…”

Kagome turned to face him - her hand still in his. Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha thought hard about expressing his concerns. His woman said she wanted words and he’d said he’d try…

“Sleeping…sleeping is hard. Ya know, for me. I think it’d help knowing you’re safe. That I’m right there to p-protect you,” he finished lamely - visibly uncomfortable with what was happening, “That’s all. We don’t gotta….”

“I’d like that actually,” she hummed and Inuyasha let out a shaky relieved sigh.

“Really?” he asked as a slow grin began blooming over his face and a weird flicker of hope flashed across his face, “That’d really be okay?”

With a coy smile, Kagome nodded before moving closer. As her eyes met his and she came so close that her hips nearly cradled his, a shuddering breath left his lips and his nostrils flared in anticipation.

“More than okay,” she breathed before leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. 

How long they kissed or what the rest of the world was doing, Inuyasha would never remember. But the memory of her molded against him, the feel of her lips and the love she managed to express in that largely innocent moment stayed with him for the rest of his life.

That and the unfortunate knowledge that chocolate, while tasty, would make him puke. Thankfully Kagome understood not everything was about her.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Break.

Request by @lucywrites02 (If you find some time could you write a fic about reader being really stressed about their exams and Loki saying something mean and then they break down and Loki has no idea what's happening but then tries to help the reader? It can be a headcanon or a one shot)

N/A: It do be like that sometimes. Unfortunately I think we can all relate to this state of mind. Hope this helps alliviate the tension a bit. Remember to take care of yourself; health is more important than grades.

Warnings: anxious thoughts, mentions of suicide attempt (the Bifrost thing from Loki), angst. Happy ending.

Word count: 2.3 K

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @jesuswasnotawhiteman)

You organized your folders once again, hoping the cleaner desk would give you some motivation to keep going. It didn’t, but you stayed. Your stomach growled and it hinted you to look at the clock. Oh, no. Five in the morning? But you barely started. You still had so many things to do before dawn.

You got up and stretched your legs and back. Your eyelids, heavier than ever, were not helping at all. Your mind was still everywhere, and you had to keep your head distracted to not think in the thousand things you still couldn’t get done. The mere thought of that made you shiver, almost throwing you into a spiral of anxious thoughts. You shook your head off and walked to the bathroom. Splashing some cold water in your face, you stood in front of the mirror. Eyebags that made you more similar to a racoon gave you the idea of making some more coffee. At that time you'd already forgotten you were going to get some food; your head was so full it couldn't even retain basic information.

As silently as you could, you walked down to the kitchen of the compound. You brought your books with yourself. Couldn’t waste some other five or ten minutes, couldn’t you? Filling the kettle and putting it on the fire, you got distracted watching the shapes of the fire.

“Zoned out?”, inquired Loki behind you. You jumped, frightened.

“What are you doing up so early?”, you asked.

“What are you doing up so late?”. You pointed at the books and he nodded. “You’re still with those things”.

“Want some coffee?”.

“No, thanks. I think I’m gonna try to sleep on the couch”.

He moved to the living room area and opened a book, laying down on the nearest couch. It all looked so cozy, so comfortable. You redirected your gaze to your cup of coffee and academic books, waiting for you to fry your head a little (a lot) more. Oh, how much you would’ve loved to take a break, sit in there with a fiction book and a warm mug of hot cocoa, wrapped up in… no. Don’t do this. Don’t torture yourself like that.

You probably shouldn’t have been drinking coffee. Your heart was already going abnormally fast, product and cause of the anxiety you were accumulating. But you did, trying to get your eyes opened. The table you settled in was confronting the living room area, and Loki observed you read and write incessantly in those big piles of books and papers.

You didn’t hear his footsteps. Out of nowhere he appeared behind you, reading the pages that were troubling you so much. You jumped once again. He was distracting you, you were tired and stressed, and, as if it weren’t enough, your heart was going to explode with all those frightens he was giving you.

“Are you going on the next…?”.

“Loki, I can’t give you attention right now”, you cut him off as kindly as you could. Your voice was slightly broken, so you swallowed and hid it. You two weren’t close enough to actually explain to him you were about to drown if you kept getting distracted from the assignments.

“I don’t need your attention”, he scoffed, slightly offended. “Not a puppy you have to play with”.

“Alright. Can you leave?”.

He sighed and went back to the couch. After about half an hour, your head fell to the pages and gave your brain the pause it so hardly needed. About an hour later, everyone on the compound was up and having breakfast around you, waking you up with the noises.

“Y/n, what are you doing sleeping in here?”, asked Thor. “What are all those things you have in there?”.

“Those things, brother, are books. They are for reading and gaining knowledge, I’m certain you haven’t heard of them before”, mocked Loki, gaining a chuckle from you. “It’s not like you seem to be gaining much either, though”, told you, referring to your nap.

“I was exhausted, but I’m...”.

“Mortals are such weakies”, he said, getting up and serving himself a cup of tea. “They read three pages and already get tired of using their little brains”.

You knew he was kidding, for he had told you many times before he considered you one of the brightest youngsters he had ever encountered. But you couldn’t look at the big picture right now. Your head was still overwhelmingly loud with fears, tiredness, stress. The only sight of that pile of books made you shiver, realizing how little time you had to study. And Loki was right. You felt yourself so stupid, so weak. No matter how hard you worked and overworked yourself, you couldn’t get the damn things done right.

A knot in your throat gave you the hint to leave. The last thing you needed was to cry in front of them. You went back to your room, not without another cup of coffee before. So, you grabbed your things as fast as you could and ran to the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed Loki had followed you, thinking it was alright to mock; play around. You weren’t exactly friends, but enjoyed each other’s teasing every once in a while. He thought it’d cheer you up, or make you laugh.

“Hey”, he said behind you, and you jumped once again, dropping your mug to the floor. It got smashed to pieces. “Oh, what a clumsy little human”. You chuckled at his comment, containing a sob. He read it as if it was alright to keep teasing you, so he did. “I’d say you’re dumb because of not sleeping, but you generally just are like this”.

You didn’t answer, but your heart ached. You weren’t in the mood for his tough-love, so you rolled your eyes, sighed, and tried to pick up the pieces of broken ceramic. He didn't look satisfied with your silence. You'd usually insult him back, and laugh together.

“Your hair’s gross. Have you showered at all?” he said once again, touching the tip of one strand of your hair. You haven’t, you didn’t have time. You didn’t answer, and instead blushed. “Careful, don’t touch that sink, you might get a reaction”.

“What?”.

“Since you’re allergic to water”.

“Out of all the mean things you can say you go for my poor hygiene?”.

“Would you like me to stop insulting your appearance and instead go for anything else? I have a long list”.

“Just… leave me alone”.

“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna keep trying to understand what you so clearly can’t?”, he said while you were leaving with all your stuff, and you stood in place, facing the door. You were so, so glad you were backwards, because then he would’ve seen you tear up.

He was joking, he was just playing around. But going for that just in your worst moments? That was plain mean. You shook your head, he didn’t know, you’ve never said a thing about your stress, and he didn’t see how overworked and overwhelmed you were. He didn't know that was one of your biggest insecurities.

“I’d say you give up already. There are certain things dummies like you simply can’t achieve”, he continued. He had no idea, so he just kept going, hoping to get a reaction. A laugh, a chuckle or a “fuck you”. Even a punch. Any of the reactions he would usually get from you. But he didn’t expect what followed, at all.

You sobbed. One sob, just sharp and loud enough for him to have heard it. He stopped dead on his tracks. You didn’t turn around, but you didn’t move either. He saw how you tilted your head, facing the floor, and dropped a tear. He immediately walked to you and grabbed both of your hands, facing you.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of those things, dear”, he softened his voice. “I was just joking around”.

“Yes, I know. Don’t worry, it’s just that I’m very stressed”, was what you tried to say. Instead, your sobs turned into a full blown cry. Your face went red from embarrassment, and anger, and stress, and tiredness, and it all just became too much for you to bear alone. Loki sensed it and hugged you tightly, pressing your head against his chest and hushing you tenderly.

“What happened? Is someone ill?”, he whispered, and you felt even more stupid, because you were crying over grades and papers. Not real things, like you used to think to diminish your stress and pack up all your feelings in a tiny bottle. But the tiny bottle became too tiny for your big feelings, and it finally exploded. You still couldn’t talk. Tears running down your face, you were hugging Loki back, hiding your face on him.

“Nobody’s ill, don’t worry”, you managed to say after a while. He nodded.

“I worry about you. Come, let me get you comfortable”, he said in your ear, and lifted you up carefully. You chuckled in between sobs. An emotional roller coaster. He carried you to his bedroom (and ignored the weird looks and stares from everyone else, because, let’s be honest; that was an unusual sight), and made you sit in his bed, wrapping you up in a weighted blanket (oh, you loved those).

He left for less than a minute and came back with a steaming cup of tea, some chocolate, and a few CDs. He sat in the bed by your side and gave you the cup. You wiped some tears away, and with trembling hands left the tea carefully over the bedside table and went for another hug. He wrapped himself around you, as a second blanket, and caressed your hair and neck with his cold fingers until your sobs stopped and you finally calmed down.

After a while, he cupped your face and looked at you very closely. Too close, even. Gave you a comforting look, with a warmth on his eyes you have never seen on anyone before.

“Better?”, he whispered.

“A bit, yeah”.

“Want to talk it out? Movie marathon? Chocolate?”.

You smiled and blushed a bit, again.

“Sorry, I’m just… really stressed. I thought I could manage better, but… this is just not it”.

“School?”.

“You must think I’m an idiot”.

“No way”, he assured you, frowning. “You know what I think of you. You’re incredibly smart”.

“I’m not, I’m doing so poorly on my exams and assignments, and…” you tried to explain, and the overwhelming weight of everything fell on your chest again. Your eyes watered.

“You’re overworking yourself too much, darling. You need to take a day off, or two”.

“I have no time, I won’t get anything done”.

“Well, you certainly won’t get anything done in this breakdown state of mind”, he said as tenderly as he could. He was right, and you sighed. You started fidgeting nervously with your fingers, tearing your cuticles. Almost as a reflex act, he grabbed your hands and caressed them so you would stop hurting them. “You humans run around the entirety of your lives. You spend it all running, speeding, not taking time to feel enough, to be rested and fulfilled enough”, he started saying, rocking you back and forth “you think you don’t have enough time, but for what?”.

“To do all the things I want”.

“And those are…? Careers to do? Places to visit? They all come to the same thing, love”.

“Feeling well?”.

“Yes”, he nodded. Your throat tightened once again, but this time out of relief. You really needed to hear this. “If you feel well doing these things, you won’t feel you’re wasting time once you finally rest. I’ve lived a thousand years. Do you think I always wanted to spend my life doing the same things?”.

“Well, no”.

“But it all came to the same thing when I thought I died”.

“You... what?”.

“I was on the Bifrost, about to fall. I wanted to feel good, to feel accepted, to feel loved by the people I loved”.

“It’s all we want at the end. I guess I overwork myself to make them proud”.

“I did too. And at the end, even when I tried my hardest, I couldn’t make them proud”.

“Oh God”, you said. He was still hugging and caressing you, as if the story he was telling didn’t affect him anymore. “And you…”.

“I threw myself off it”, he stated. You stopped and looked at him.

“Oh”.

“But”, he brought back to your hands the cup of tea “I survived. Even then, I kept thinking through the fogged lenses of doing something big for a future purpose, not paying any mind to my actual motivations”.

“How do you feel now?”.

“You know, if I wouldn’t have survived, I wouldn’t taste this amazing cup of tea” he said, sipping a bit from the cup still in your hands and bringing it to his cheek, warming him up. “And I wouldn’t be able to watch all these movies with you. And I would’ve missed all the Midgardians books I’ve read on Earth. And I wouldn’t have met anyone on here. And maybe, even looking closer, I wouldn’t have pushed all your buttons to break down so you would still be bottling up your stress and maybe even have had a heart attack and died unhappy and unfulfilled”.

“Wow there”. You both laughed. You rested your head on his lap and he watched you with a glimpse of a smile.

“What I’m trying to say is, take it one step at a time. Look at the big picture. Enjoy the process. All those things you midgardians say so often, they have almost lost all meaning. They sound cliché. They shouldn’t; for they are very true”.

“Thank you, Loki”, you sighed and started braiding one strand of his hair.

“Now go take a bath or something, stinky”. You both laughed. It was all fine.

[haechanokeh]

I’m right for you [pt. 3]

[teaser] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ]

(you can play Die For You by The Weeknd while reading this 😌)

pairing: popular college! mark x average! reader

genre: romance, smut, angst, series.

warning: corruption, oral sex (both receiving and giving), cream pie, rough sex, mention of religion, rough sex, self-esteem, psychology, public sex, sub! reader, sex toys. possessive mark two-faced mark

I think I’m right for you, babe. You know what I’m thinking, see it in your eyes. You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry. It ain’t workin’ ‘cause you’re perfect and I know that you’re worth it I can’t walk away. (Die for you by The Weeknd)

today is you case presentation with mark. you were deeply affected of what happened in the cubicle but mark seemed unbothered because he was greeting you as usual. it wasn’t weird, he always greets everyone but what was really weird was your classmates. they were looking at you and it made you felt conscious, they were not saying anything but sometimes you catch them glancing at you but you brushed it off and focus on your brainstorming with mark.

yes you do dislike mark but you thank god that he's your partner. he never missed a question from your professor during case study on the other hand you're just standing beside him dumbly. you only understand the question AND the answer once mark responded. well, mark a very kind person he was, despite of answering it alone he made sure that you're included in the case saying base in y/n and my research, even lied that some are from my own research but of course not. plus, for some odd reason, your classmates' eyes were literally made you uncomfortable to the point you were having a hard time to breathe or your social anxiety attacking you. however, at the very moment, you want to give mark a tight hug for making your life easy.

the whole presentation ended. you were putting your things back to your back while standing while mark scrolling in his phone because his dad texted him asking if he could buy him some new pen. you gasped when an arm was on your shoulder, and that caught mark's attention but he hid his annoyance. 

"hey, y/n, i heard you like someone ha?" his brows were playfully raising. it was lucas, he gave mark a meaningful glance but mark smiled confusingly.

"what?" you didn't have any idea what he's telling you. 

"i heard someone saw-"

"mark!" mina suddenly appeared calling mark's name a little too loud which made lucas stop from talking. "we're going to a milk tea house, do you want to come with us?"

“y/n, come with us.” lucas pulled you closer to his body. mark was taring at lucas arm around your shoulder. you weren’t aware of mark’s expression because your mind was thinking ways to breakthrough from lucas. 

“no!” mina exclaimed. he caught everyone’s attention, and she became flustered. “i mean, we will only make her feel uncomfortable and lucas please remove your arms to y/n, she doesn’t look comfortable.” she mumbled. lucas did remove his arms from you. 

“milk tea? can we also come with you?” then the people started to surround mark. it became noisy, knowing you who’s allergic to people and noise sneaked out from the circle and left the room.

mark turned his head to look at you but you’re nowhere to be found. he sighed and forced himself to interact with his classmates.

your mother texted you that he will be away for one week because of their excursion. she left you an allowance good for one week including your meals for the whole day and transportation. you already had your dinner outside. right now you were just laying down on your favorite long sofa in your living room, watching NCT 2020 funny moments. suddenly, mark's name popped. mark is your class representative, he has access to class contacts and it wasn't that mark called you because you're always late in the class so for almost past 3 years he's the one you always contact just to inform the class that you're just late. 

wait, did i miss an announcement? you quickly left the class maybe something came up.

"hello, was there an announcement?" you directly asked

"none, just checking you. we haven't had a proper conversation awhile ago unless it's case related." 

you heart melted, he's very kind and sweet... that scares you.

"ah okay." you simply answered. it wasn't because you want to talk to him, well you really don't want to talk to him but it wasn't that he's annoying or anything- it was just you hate phone calls. you hate talking with someone in general unless it's your mom. 

"well, have you eaten yet?" he tried to save the conversation, he wanted to hear your voice longer.

"yes." it was a one-word reply. 

mark was slightly shattered because you don't seem to want to talk to him. he just thought that maybe you were tired.

"okay, goodnight."

"yeah." then you hang up. 

you returned watching youtube until you drifted into your dreamland... no it wasn't your dreamland.

you gasped and sat up as you woke from another perverted dream with mark. your chest was rising aggressively and you look down as you felt the wetness between your thighs. you raked your hands over your hair as you felt frustration and guilt. this was your second time that you dreamt of mark doing erotic things. you looked at the digital clock it was already 2 am. you groaned and stood up, you want to wash your body because the stickiness just made you feel more guilty if it stays there longer.

you entered your room and stripped, walking directly into your bathroom. you opened a warm shower and as the water trickled on your body, hands unconsciously trailing to the south. your dream was so hot, you can't lie about that. it was in the same cubicle but instead of his digits, it was his dick inside you. 

your eyes closed as you rubbed your bead slow while recalling your dream. you squeezed your left breast and imagining it was mark's squeezing it. you want something to fill your womanhood so you inserted your two fingers and thrust it. your lungs felt like being suppressed by pressure, your thrust became furious. 

"oh my- mark fuck." you moaned his name and you have never been so ashamed. it was so wrong but the feeling was so good that you weren't able to stop yourself from moaning. you felt the tension in your thighs. you knelt down and the hand that squeezing your breast was now on your clit rubbing it furiously. 

"mark! fuck right there." you felt the tension in your abdomen and your legs started to shake. your body just gave in, bending down, cheek shoved against the wet tiles while the warm water splashed on your body.

you screamed erotically, eyes rolling and lashes flickering. your legs were shaking as you reached your high.

 mark hasn't slept yet, it's okay for him because there are no classes. he was staring at the ceiling and mind preoccupied by you.

he was trying to understand why do you keep pushing him away even though you clearly wanted him too. mark did remember where you say he's very different from you, and so? what's wrong with it? what he didn't like is the thought of changing just for a single person but...

"shall i?" he chuckled bitterly. he was really close to his insanity. he feared that this affection will grow into something that is uncontrollable- like an obsession.  

he checked the time through his phone. it's 5 in the morning. he decided to jog outside, so, he took a quick shower and wore his tracksuit and running shoes. maybe if tiredness hits him, he will feel sleepy. mark already went to your house and he didn't tell you that his house is just a few blocks away from you, instead of going to his normal route, he changed it, jogging in your house direction.

when he was closed to your street, he was surprised to see you outside. he stood and admire your naturalness from afar. your hair was disheveled, your eyes weren't completely closed yet, and your face was a little puffy but it doesn't take away your beauty. plus, your cute teddy bear pajamas made him smile. he sends his gratitude to god because he created a masterpiece. 

yeah, mark is deeply in love and he thinks there's no way out of this feeling. 

you were actually waiting for your breakfast, your pancakes from mcdonalds and a warm chocolate drink. when the delivery arrived, you paid and gave him a tip for being quick. you were about to go back inside when you heard a VERY familiar voice which was owned by the person who sleep deprived you 

"Y/N!" his voice was loud, it even cracked. 

"what are you doing here?" you asked.

"morning jog, and good morning to you." he replied and greeted at the same time.

"jog.." you paused and gasped. "from your condo to here?!" you exclaimed in disbelief. mark laughed at your reaction. of course it'll shock you because you already been in his condo and if he jogged it from there to here, he was supposed to be passing out right now.

"no, my family house is actually a few blocks away from here."  he said.

WHAT?! this is not good. you thought. the more he gets closer the more he has access to your mind and body. you masked your displeased face and just nodded.

"okay, ahm. i'm heading back now. bye." you pointed at your house door and awkwardly turned your back walking towards your door.

you expected him to do something because he always do that but to your disappointment he didn't. you looked back to check if he was stil there but he was no longer standing there but you saw him jogging away from your direction. you sighed in disappoinment that made you mentally slap yourself for feeling very contradicting .

you ate miserably your affordable and favorite pancake.

mark took a bathe and go down to eat breakfast together with his parents. they prayed before eating. the cooked food by his mom made him question why your ordered delivery food for breakfast.

"how's school?" mark's dad asked him.

"good, still the same." he replied.

"your father will lead a service, you can invite your classmates. oh mina, you can invite her, she's very sweet girl." his mom said but she doesn't have any motive. she knew mark have not interest in romantic relationship as of the moment, her child was so focus in maintaining his grades and scholarship. at least, that's what he though.. if she only knew.

"i'll try." he forced a smile but behind it was growing tiredness. he knew that his classmates doesn't really want to praise but because they were so fond of mark and they just love to hang out. it defeated the purpose of going to church.

after the breakfast, mark's parent left for their work. he washed the dishes and went up stairs and stayed in his room with his music and guitar. it helped to detach his mind from thinking of you, but it was just temporary as he saw you name appeared in his phone. he almost threw his guitar just to answer your call very quick.

"y/n? why?" he sound so excited.

"ahm, mark... well.. perhaps, do you ahm, have notes from yesterdays discussion? i mean in all cases, not just ours?" you were very stuttering because of shyness. your class have long test about the cases but you're notes are everywhere and you can't understand your writings.

"yes." he said. he knew where this is going. he quickly get out from his bed and go straight to his closet, choosing shirt to wear. "do you need it? i can bring it to you."

"no, no. ahm, you do digital notes right? mind if you could send it through gdrive?" you really don't want to bother him... nah lies. you're just preventing things from happening.

mark paused for a moment and was a little hurt, he understood your statement as if you don't want to see him. but mark will not having any of that.

"it was handwritten though." he faked sorry. he hoped you didn't notice what he did there, hoping that you received it as if it was literally handwritten like directly to paper since he sounded apologetic.

"oh... i see. well, ahm, can you drop by in the house?"

mark still not satisfied by just dropping by.

"how about we study together? we can review together."

you translated it like 'the smartest in your class can help you'and that's very tempting. you can't easily study 8 cases and you need him. you used his diuretics notes in lecture, you almost aced it. now, your lab needs him.

"then, pizza is okay for you?" you whisoered from the other end.

mark secretly fist pump and grinned in triumph.

"yes."

you spayed air freshener in your living room and changed your shirt to another shirt? you only have tees just in different colors, you changed your short into black sweatpants. you made sure that your hair was far different from the hair he saw this morning. you already ordered the pizza.

the doorbell rang. your quickly opened the door for him. mark was standing, carrying his ipad and his other hand holding a two milk teas in a cup holder. he's wearing dark blue t-shirt and gray sweatpants. you smiled awkwardly and let him in. you scanned his body, looking for paper or at least a piece of paper but you didn't see any of it. mark was looking down at you, watching you observing him.

"where's your notes?" you curiously asked.

"here." he lifted his ipad. your jaw dropped.

"i thought you did not do digital notes?"

"i don't recalling telling you i didn't, i just said it was handwritten and when i saif that handwritten in my ipad." he reasoned. taht made you think later realizing that he was right and that made you dumb.

you sighed in defeat.

"by the way, bought you milk tea since you missed it yesterday." he said, you acually don't care if you missed it or not.

you walked towards the single couch and patted it.

"you can seat here." you said.

he quickly sat down and put the milk teas on top of your living room's table. he confusingly watched you when you sat on the long couch and it was the end of it. you were too far from him.

you noticed his sulking face.

"mr. mark lee, what's with your long face?" you chuckled teasingly.

"why are you too far from me?" he pouted.

"damage control." you replied shortly and get your case 3 notes which is very illegible to read. "can i borrow your case 3?"

"why? what did i do?" mark asked was clueless. he did not pay attention to your question

"mark, being alone with you is not healthy anymore." you directly answered him.

"orgasm is healthy, what do you mean?" mark didn't get your.

"mark, that's not what i mean. we're like horny teenagers doing unappropriate things."

"we're already passed in that phase in life, we're both adults." he rebutted.

you mentally face palmed yourself in frustration. why is he so smart and dumb at the same time.

"mark, that's not why i mean. we're being to touchy, every time we are left alone the next thing we knew we're touching each other. do you know how scary was that to me? it only happened twice but i am already longing for more! when i don't feel your touches i go craaazy! i even touched myself for freaking 2-" you froze when you realize what you were telling him you stared blankly at him.

on the other hand, mark was very pleased hearing you exploded from frustration as you became honest for the first time.

"you touched yourself? what 2?" he smirked and lifted his brows.

you cleared your throat.

"can i borrow your ipad? i need your case 3." you murmured and look anywhere but him your face heat up. you want to be swallowed by your favorite sofa.

"then get it."

you look at his ipad sitting on his manly wide spread apart thighs. your eyes stared at the mark that makes your knees weak and wet pussy. his fiery eyes looking directly toyou while he was sitting comfortably on the couch and arms are both in each side of the armrest.

"mark lee, i need it." you tried to use your stern voice but failed because your voice was too small.

"i told you, you can get it.. here." he glanced at his ipad.

you gulped and the living room's air became thick. your submissive self switched on and you just found yourself walking towards him. your hands felt cold as you reached for his ipad. when you lifted it, his bulge forming in his gray sweatpants made you almost drool. you were reminded how fucking hot it was.

you want to touch it and do anything you can possibly could but your single rational braincells keeping you in the light.

"you don't seem sure of what you really wanted to do." he snapped you from overthinking. "should i make you choices?"

"what?" you asked confusingly but your voice was shaking.

"you bring that ipad with you and go back to where you were sitting, or..." he looked up to you with his dark eyes, leaning a little forward you trace the side of your hips with his palm..

"put the ipad on the table and sit in my lap."

mark knew that you can never say no at this state. if you could only see how your body shivered and how defeated your face was, he knew you already gave in.

and his was right.

the original draft was deleted because of my stupidity 😭 idk think this is good as the original draft.

hello, some of you asked me if i have a tag list, i will be creating one.

✨if you want to be added in I'm Right For You Tag List, you can DM or Ask me so i can add you ✨

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Tag List:

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anyways, i would like to say thank you for supporting this story. i did not expect some of you will like it. i also want to thanks people who leaving message through dms and ask praising this story. also to those nctzens hearting it 🥺🤗

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 04

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings: excessive amounts of pining, explicit smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, mutual masturbation 

words: 10.3k

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: thank you for waiting... if you've stuck around this long :") i've tried so hard for the past couple months to condense this story into the original length (3 chapters) but i've gotten attached and i'm afraid that this will turn into a longfic at the rate i'm going. so after this chapter, i'll be sure to post lots of drabbles of the scenes i couldn't fit in!! thank you so much for the wild ride, and without further ado, i present to you don't rush 04. 

start from the beginning?

You can’t bring yourself to fault Yoongi for what happened that morning. You also can’t bring yourself to say that it was your fault either–or even that there may be a single person to blame. 

24 hours of radio silence. No good morning text, no morning after–or really, afternoon after–text. Nothing. 

The thing about silence–absolute silence, with the exception the low hum of the air-con, or the distant sounds of a city, or footsteps from the room above you–is how slowly it passes. Maybe that’s why you’re a music student, spending all your time filling the silence with your own music. 

Silence is such an empty space–and can breed such bored thoughts. And where else for your mind to wander but Yoongi? 

It’s not that you were waiting for a text from him, it’s just that… you were half-expecting a text from him. Like he owed it to you. Even if none of this had ever happened, he would have texted you good morning by now. 

At least in your head, it seems fair that the onus is on Yoongi to text first. After all, he was the one who dragged you tightly by the wrist back to his apartment. He pushed you down on his couch, and in a very roundabout way, made you late for class. 

It’s not that you let this whole affair happen to you, but he started it. So it’s his job to text first. That’s the excuse you use, for not being brave enough to do it instead. 

It honestly feels a little pathetic that most of your thoughts outside of music and school are occupied by Min Yoongi. Even now, weeks after you’ve started talking to him, even mere thoughts of him elicit physical reactions from you. 

Your heart rate picking up, skin flushing where your neck meets your collarbone… maybe you’re allergic to Min Yoongi.  

It’s hard for your mind not to run wild with conclusions and assumptions after what happened between the two of you, even if a day hasn’t elapsed yet.  

Why hadn’t he texted? Does he do this often? Did he hate it? Did he ghost me, and now I’m never going to hear from him again? Should I text him first? Why is this so hard? 

Why do I care so much? 

The worst part is, you can’t turn it off. The thoughts follow you throughout the day, a weight sitting on your shoulders as you flit from class to class, building to building, rehearsal to rehearsal. Once the sun dips below the horizon, you’ve almost completed the process of resigning yourself to never knowing the answers to any of your questions. 

You make a note to yourself that you might start grieving the loss of any sort of closure–other than what Yoongi had given you the day before. All evenings this semester have been relegated to the confines of the practice room, so that’s where you head next after chamber music rehearsals end. Finally, the Bach partita has a purpose in your life other than plaguing your waking dreams–something to focus on other than Yoongi. But for God’s sake, it sounds pathetic when it’s put like that. 

Your. Life. Doesn’t. Revolve. Around. Min. Yoongi. You tell yourself, punctuating each word as you march down the stairwell in the music building. You clutch your violin case to your body, seeking warmth in the cold plastic. 

The universe likes to play tricks on people, and its language is irony. Yoongi taught you that lesson, the hard way. 

So it almost makes sense that the next time you encounter Yoongi is when you collide head-on with Yoongi’s smooth chest as you speed-walk through the doorway once you’re at the foot of the stairs. Just as you dreaded (and knew was going to happen anyway), your cheeks light up, some light from deep within you turning on. You kick yourself for the fact that your entire body perks up in his existence, erasing the cold and the tiredness from the night before. 

“Oh–I didn’t expect to see you here.” At the very least, Yoongi doesn’t look like he hates you. Or is disgusted by you. If anything, he looks a bit coy. If you could let yourself believe it, there might even be the warmth of fondness in his eyes, and even more incredulously, maybe the hard edge of guilt. 

“Didn’t expect? Yoongi, I’m here more than my own room.” You laugh despite the thoughts that have been trailing you all day, sounding something like cherry blossoms floating on the new breeze that spring has brought. You feel like you’ve forgiven him for something that he didn’t do, even if he hasn’t said anything yet. 

Just seeing him makes you feel better, the devil in the back of your head whispers. 

“Right, right.” His answering laughter is familiar. Even now, ever after everything, he still has the audacity to smooth his hands over your shoulders, make sure you’re intact and okay. “Violin okay? You okay?” 

You try not to let his scant touches send a shiver down your spine, just so you don’t give him that satisfaction, but you fail all the same. You manage a nod, but can barely bring yourself to look in his eyes. But is it for fear of seeing that warm tenderness again, or something else? 

“So…” With no prompting from you, Yoongi slides a fingertip underneath your chin. It feels simultaneously casual and momentous, and you’re not sure which one you prefer. 

Is this really happening right now? 

He looks deep into your eyes, taking inventory of something that you’re too self-conscious to think about right now. 

Of course, you’re self-conscious. You bump into your hookup a day after the fact, now that it’s nighttime in the practice rooms on the second floor of the music building. Both of you should be somewhere else, anywhere else, preferably drunk. How could it not be awkward, and how could you not feel self-conscious? 

His eyes flick lower, to your lips, and you avert your gaze. Yoongi’s hand returns to his side, and he coughs. 

“Sooo…” You say, digging your foot through the carpet, the warmth of his hands lingering on your skin. You play with the buckles on your violin case, just to give your hands something to do. You hope he says something first, because you’re sure as hell not going to do it. 

“Got something to say?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his words. He coughs again. 

“I thought you were going to say something,” You say, still not looking at him. It’s all you can do to not shrink away. In the dim lighting of the mouth of the hallway, there’s no way he can see your blush, but you turn away all the same. 

He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t, or maybe like he’s purged the last thirty-six hours from his memory. “Let’s not be strangers, come on. Are you busy?” 

“Not… particularly.” You commit to the words before you can finish the thought. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Right. So he wants something from you. Of course, of course he wants something from you. 

“What kind of favor?” 

“I was going to print something downstairs, but now that you’re here, can you listen to my piece? I need a second opinion.” He sighs, as if remembering something sweet. “It’s time I made it even, right? I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” He smiles, just barely, and yet it feels like a gift. 

So that’s it. It’s confirmed. This is officially Not a Thing, you consign yourself to the fact. It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t a little bit relieved. At least you have an answer. 

There’s no need for a great step forward that’s necessary. No more awkward conversations like these, no admitting of feelings, let alone reciprocation of feelings. 

Nothing has to change between the two of you. Isn’t that what you wanted? 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You say, like it shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. You hate that even despite his silence on the matter, you’re running back to his side. You hate that you’re happy that he still wants anything to do with you. You ignore the empty kind of ache in your chest, too hollow and too full at the same time. 

You follow him down the narrow hallway, past the couch where it all began, and into the practice room. Of course, Yoongi’s already booked the only one isn’t a dingy cesspool. 

He pats the space next to him on the piano bench, beckoning you closer. 

“Sit down, don’t stand the whole time.” 

“Don’t you need the space?” 

“No, no, it’s okay. Come here.” If it’s even possible, your face burns even hotter when you sit down next to him, shoulders brushing just so. It’s harder to forget about the fact that you are hopelessly crushing on Min Yoongi when you’re literally touching him again. 

It reminds you of all his touches from before, because it was good. The sex was good. If it had been awkward and fumbling, if Min Yoongi hadn’t been able to push you over the edge with only his mouth and that look in his eye, you would be a lot more inclined to leave those memories in the past. 

You don’t need to relive the memory over and over, an endless reel. And yet, glimpses, flashes, disjointed stills of that morning still follow you everywhere. But you look at him now, silently flipping through the marked pages on his score, and now you see more than just a good lay. Looking at him now, in his natural state, you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, you’re whipped, there’s no chance for you.  

“I don’t have it memorized yet, please don’t judge me.” You try not to think about the way he had pulled you closer by your hips. You try not to think about what you might have thought was lovesickness in his eyes. You try not to think of the timbre of his voice, when he told you to come for him. You try not to think about that. 

“Really, a pianist who can’t memorize his pieces? Sacreligious.” The delivery of your jibe falls flat. You steady the ricketing breath in your lungs. You’re nervous, and tired. Accepting that your Min Yoongi has absolutely no interest in you other than when he needs you for something isn’t easy, you know. 

“Oh come oooon y/n, this is something I’m learning this semester.” He pouts, just like he had before the both of you had fallen into this nebulous mess of feelings. Or maybe, it’s all one-sided and you’re the only one feeling like things have gotten messy. 

You poke him in the side, which you regret immediately after doing so. “I’m just joking. Show me your piece. Are you warmed up?” Yoongi turns pink, again. 

You remember the pink dusting his cheeks when he was–right, you’re supposed to be forgetting that ever happened. 

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, everything moving in slow motion. Your head is swimming. 

Well, maybe things aren’t moving in slow motion, and it’s the proximity to Min Yoongi that’s making time distort. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m fine. Are you ready to listen?” 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” 

Yoongi hovers his hands over the keys. He does that pianist thing you’ve always loved, where he pauses before the keys, preparing to play. 

He leans in slowly, sinking his hands down, pulling out a sound so sweet and, so, so solemn. This is a different Yoongi than the one thirty seconds ago. 

You realize somewhat belatedly that the fluorescent lights, the same ones that erase any sort of proper time telling in windowless rooms like these, still make Yoongi look good. The light bounces off of him just right, his cheekbones casting a gentle shadow on the sloped panes of his face. Like the rest of him, there’s no harsh angles, just soft gentle slopes that feel like home. Like comfort. Your gut twists in yearning. The hollow of his cheekbone is the perfect place to kiss, you ponder. 

Things should be easier now. All of it was a mistake. It’s in the past. It seems that Yoongi doesn’t seem to care at all. It should be forgotten about. Things, in theory, should be easier now. You should be able to carry on as you’ve always been able to. The path of least resistance, right?

He pauses, and begins what must be the main theme, cascading sixteenth-notes that sound about as tumultuous and troubled as you feel. 

He looks like he’s about to cry. Sure, you’ve seen sleepy Yoongi, cranky Yoongi, even a little bit of earnest, pleading Yoongi. But whoever is in front of you is entirely different. He’s approaching the main theme again, hands jumping over the keys as if they were hot irons. You can see all the versions of him laid out before you. Younger Yoongi, hands too small to reach the tenths written in his score. Hungover Yoongi that shuffles into class a couple minutes late, remnants of a late night out drinking written all over his face. The Yoongi that holds your hands between his and tells you that everything is going to be okay. 

When he reaches the final cadence, he doesn’t look at you immediately, still trained on the keys. His hands are still placed in the final chord, lifting them off slowly so the sound doesn’t quite fade away yet. The both of you stay like that, in the aftermath of what he just played. You hear the click as he takes his foot off the pedal. The tension that he was churning out doesn’t fade away when the sound stops. If anything, it gets worse. Blood rushes to your cheeks, the room warmer than it was before. 

“So… that’s what I’ve been working on so far. I, uh, hope you liked it.” It’s shocking how that compelling spirit from just minutes ago dissipates into thin air. He looks vulnerable, naked despite the fact that he’s fully clothed. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Yoongi.” You laugh in disbelief, blinking away tears. God, you are so fucked. Sure, you’ve heard him play before, practicing with him. But you’re not practicing with him now, you’re watching. You’ve become the audience, and the dynamic has changed once again. 

There’s been many a night where you googled his previous performances and competitions on Youtube, but this doesn’t compare. Not in the slightest. So this is what all your teachers were talking about when they were lecturing you about the importance of stage presence. 

“Uh, wow. Wow.” You’re still tearing up, no matter how much you try to will it away. 

You’re not even really sure why you’re tearing up or why you can’t stop. It’s usually difficult for music to elicit such a visceral reaction from you. Goosebumps, sure. That very specific thrill down your spine when you hear music that isn’t so much as something that you hear, but feel in your blood, thumping, alive, real. 

But tears, no. That doesn’t happen.

It feels like your body is reacting to something that isn’t tangible, that you can’t see with your eyes or hear with your ears. Like there’s something else in the room that you can’t quite register. Like you’re crying despite yourself. 

You desperately want to kiss him. You want to pull him close and breathe in his familar scent and feel him pull you closer. It feels like the only appropriate thing to do, rather than just say “wow” over and over, in that stupid longing voice because you don’t what else to say. This is too overwhelming. More overwhelming than what it feels like when he finally puts his hands on you. 

It’s the only thing you want to do. You can’t imagine the night ending in any other way. It seems like it was prewritten in the stars, like the universe came together to stitch this scene together. Like it was fate for you to find him here, long after the sun disappeared over the horizon, practicing just like you were.

But you can’t, so you hug him. Like an absolute idiot. 

You regret it as soon as your arms circle around his shoulders. Yoongi stiffens, as if startled, as if he wasn’t expecting the hug either. Then his hand come to awkwardly pat the space between your shoulder blades, as if this couldn’t get any worse. This feels like a consolation prize. 

He can’t see your face nestled against his shoulder, but you cringe. 

You feel the vibration of his laughter against you, his shoulders shaking, “You liked it that much?” You can feel the way his voice resonates in his chest, and like everything else about this ordeal, it’s overwhelming. 

“Yeah,” You pull back away from him, relieved that the moment is over, “Yeah, I liked it. Winter Wind, right?” 

“Yeah, fitting for this fucking weather.” 

You laugh. “Look, thanks. But I gotta go, it’s getting late and I have a paper due tonight. Thank you, again. It’s really good.” You pick up your case, “You have good start, but keep practicing. Can’t stop until you have it memorized, ha.” You try to force a laugh. 

You hope you don’t look like you’re fleeing the scene. (Except you are. You leave the building without even practicing. But you don’t tell him that.) 

As you stream down the steps leading to the music building, the cool night air blotting away the swelling tears in your eyes, there’s something else that takes up residence in your heart: jealousy, and initiative. 

You envy the lucky bitch that ends up with Min Yoongi. And if Yoongi won’t talk about it, then you will. You won’t let him drag you around on a whim without a real answer. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer. 

~

Min Yoongi doesn’t like you back. 

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself before he goes to sleep, as if lying to himself might make sleep come more easily. 

The truth is, you are Min Yoongi’s favorite bedtime story. Like many other nights before, Yoongi falls asleep thinking of you, hashing and rehashing all the little details and inside jokes and past conversations. It’s a small comfort during this semester, thoughts of you keeping him warm. 

Tonight, Yoongi is replaying the conversation from earlier, the way he saw you nervously rubbed at the tough calluses on your left hand while he was playing for you, out of the corner of his eye. It made Yoongi want to make you smile, laugh at his bad jokes, and maybe, if you’d let him, gasp against his lips. It’s been less than a day since he saw you and yet he misses your laugh. 

That morning after class, you had sat up, blinking away the sun filtering through his shades, or maybe trying to clear the post-orgasm fog. Post- orgasms fog. Then you mumbled something about being late for class, a thin layer of sweat shining down to your chest. 

You had thanked him, then laughed at the misstep. God, you were so dorky that you thanked him. How was he ever supposed to resist you? 

How had the two of you come so far? 

 And the guiltiest indulgences Yoongi would allow himself in the middle of the night were the things he hadn’t experienced with you. Like a kiss. He hasn’t gotten a chance to do that, not yet. Maybe not ever. Would it be chaste? Slow and romantic? Or would it be impassioned and angry? 

Yoongi is particularly fond of the image of taking you to the jazz cafe a little ways away from campus. Would you wear a dress, once the weather warms up a little bit? What kind of coffee would you order? Do you even like jazz? What would it feel like to feel your hand slotted against his? 

He definitely wasn’t been thinking about pushing you up against the mirror in the practice room and seeing if the soundproof padding was actually properly installed. Or about that morning after classes, and those little mewling noises you made to urge him on. You were so desperate. It was cute, to say the least. 

But Yoongi wasn’t trying to think about that right now. He was thinking more about your unwavering diligence. Or the merriment in your eyes despite the tired shadows that hung beneath them. Or the way you didn’t back down from the way that he was obviously flirting with him, fighting fire with fire.

How much longer can the both of you live in denial, waiting for the other to make a tentative step forward? 

The more he thinks about it–about you–the less he can comfortably stay in his little bubble of denial. Denial can only get him so far. He tells himself that whatever relationship between the two of you is inevitable, and someone is going to do something eventually, and that’s why he’s not making a move just yet. 

Much of your relationship (or lack thereof) has been stepwise progression, slow steps. Graduating slowly from classmate to study partners to friends and closer, still. And now Yoongi had made this great leap and it felt like the both of you were lost amid the signals and the truths neither of you knew how to broach. 

And no matter how brave he is on stage, it’s nothing compared to being up close and personal with you. Cheesily enough, it’s easy enough to show a crowd what he’s been working on for months, but with you, he has to improvise. 

Truth be told, Yoongi knew he was being idealistic. The space that you two existed in had become precious to him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the balance, until now. There’s no easy way to make this all go away. Both of you were in too deep now. 

He saw the way you sighed into his touch, the way your eyes would go unfocused when he said something that was even remotely flirtatious, then then snap back to reality, as if you were reminding yourself of something. He knew you wouldn’t do anything any time soon. The past evening had shown him that. 

  And how was he supposed to admit his feelings for you… when he could hardly admit them to himself, in the privacy of his own room? 

And now, how could Yoongi make sense of anything? Every quiet moment carried the ghost of your voice. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way you had squeezed your eyes shut when he brought you to rapture. Even when you’re not with him, you’re filling up his senses. His thoughts. 

Am I in love with my friend? Are we friends because we’re in love? Am I feeling like this because of the way she says my name? Am I feeling like this because of the way she touches me? 

So those are all the reasons. To not talk to you. To talk to you. God, how the fuck was Yoongi supposed to know? 

~

You (5:03pm): hey, I think we should talk soon 

 The minutes tick by. Does the time always pass this slowly, you think to yourself. Your hand hovers over your phone keyboard. 

Fuck… what have I done. 

 You (5:15pm): that sounds sooo scary lol no pressure okay? 

 You grow desperate in the wake of his silence. Have you ruined it all?  

 Yoongi (5:30pm) yeah 

Yoongi (5:31pm): sorry I was practicing 

Yoongi (5:31pm): wasn’t looking at my phone  

Yoongi (5:31pm): let’s talk then 

Yoongi (5:32pm): where are you? 

 You find yourself at his apartment once again, the closed door spelling out all the possibilities in front of you. At least give him the benefit of the doubt, something reasons inside of you, but something darker says, think of what he’s put you through.  

Think of what you’ve put yourself through, you finally think. You’ve stood outside long enough. You’ve overwrought this, alone, long enough. 

Each knock that you rap against the door sounds like another nail in the coffin, but you still cling onto the last dregs of hope left in you. 

The door opens immediately, a rush of warm air enveloping you from outside. “Hey,” Yoongi says, shyly, almost demure in his lounge clothes and undone hair. 

You want to take him apart. 

“Hey,” You mirror, and try to pretend like Min Yoongi hasn’t stolen the breath out of you for what seems like the thousandth time. You hate that he has this effect on you. With nothing but a simple greeting, it seems like you’ve forgiven him for all your grief already. You try to push that feeling further down, trying to stay objective. 

Yoongi leads you to his couch. “Here… sit down. It’s cold outside, I made tea,” He says, padding into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything else, but it looks like he knows exactly what you want to talk about. There’s something in the little tick in his jaw that tells you he’s just as sure as you are, but you’re tired of guessing. Your eyes are blurring from looking in between the lines for so long. 

There’s a big difference between overt facts and implied certainties. Fact: You and Yoongi are friends who study together, and now, ex-hookups. Implied: There’s something more there, something between friend and one-time hookup. 

“Um, what did you want to talk about?” Yoongi says, setting down a steaming mug in front of you. You don’t reach for it. 

“I–” You steel yourself for the words to tumble out of your mouth, but you lose your nerve. You had prepared a whole monologue on the walk to his apartment, but it doesn’t seem right now. You sigh, loosening the tension in your shoulders. “I wanted to talk about… about the last time I was at your apartment.” You hope it’s enough for him to get your point, and you hope that he’ll be honest and direct. He owes at least that much to you. 

“What about last time? Like specifically, what about last time?” Yoongi says, not flippantly. Please, you silently plead, please… just say something good.  

“Yoongi,” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come, “What happens now? What does it mean? Please, just be honest.” When you hear your voice leave your body, you can hear how pained you sound. It wasn’t something you intended. You match his gaze and his eyes are like mirrors. “Yoongi… whatever you say, I won’t be angry. I just–I just want to know how you feel.” Your voice trembles. You hope you don’t sound as pathetic and humiliated as you feel, the scorned hookup. 

Worse yet, the scorned hookup who didn’t get the hint the first time. 

“No, no. You deserve the truth.” He sets his mug on the table, and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t use a coaster. “I’ll, um, tell you my side of the story. Just to be clear I’m not like, mad at you, or anything like that. I’m also not the type to fuck and go… even though it looks like that. And I’m not like, going to ghost you or anything. Unless you want me to do that. In that case,” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, lingering on the nape of his neck, “I’ll do that.”  

“Can you do something for me, y/n? Can you just–” Yoongi holds his hands out in front of him, and he clasps his hands between yours. He always knows exactly how to comfort you, even now. 

He sighs. “I wasn’t… expecting everything to happen like this. y/n, I… Just let me think about what to say for a second. But I promise, you’ll get the explanation you’re owed.” Another deep breath in. Another deep breath out. 

You sit like that for what seems like a long, stretched out moment, your hands clasped in Yoongi’s, his brow furrowed. 

“Why didn’t you say something yesterday?” You burst out. 

Yoongi clears his throat. “Okay, look. I have… a lot of… okay, I just, I wasn’t sure how to go about this whole thing. And that morning in class, I rushed everything and after that I wasn’t sure how to approach you. Then when I saw you in the music building afterward, I just wanted to talk to you… to make sure you were okay. I saw you and I blanked. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what to do without making it weird. That’s a shitty reason, but I blanked and didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” 

“So,” You blink, frustrated, confused, flushed hot with embarrassment and maybe a little bit of arousal, “Okay,” You say. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So… why did it happen? Why… why did we…” 

Your eyes sting, and you breathe deeply, as if you might run out of words. “Was it all in my head?” 

Yoongi’s clammy hands tighten around yours, as if he’s afraid you’ll leave. 

“No,” Yoongi exhales, “No, it wasn’t.” 

Your body is running hot and cold. It feels like something in the air has been punctured, all the tension, all the doubts, rushing away. Something new rushes in. 

“I spent all this time guessing and wondering and hoping. I ran myself ragged with all my thinking. It’s not your fault, mostly, but I’m so tired. Of guessing.” 

He smiles. Well, smirks, in that Yoongi fashion that makes it feel like the top of your head is spinning. “Stop thinking so much then.” 

“It was–” Yoongi’s voice breaks, rips in half. “It was a mistake,” Yoongi lies. You know he’s lying. You can tell from the way his eyes are looking everywhere on your face but your eyes. You can tell from the way that he wrings his hands, like he’s reading a pre-written apology from behind the camera. “I’m so, so confused about everything. This isn’t going the way I thought it would–not that–it’s just my words aren’t coming out like I thought they would. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like a bad thing.” 

Yoongi sighs, “I thought this would be easier.” And when you look at him again, you can see the pink on his cheeks. And how dilated his pupils are, and the decreasing proximity between his lips and your lips, because again Yoongi is still death-gripping your hands in his. If you could let yourself entertain the idea, he might be pulling you closer.  

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” You say. You lean away from him, hoping that the energy in the room will simmer down if you’re not centimeters away from falling into his arms. You need to hear him talk more, say everything, explain himself. You can’t leave this room without knowing more, you won’t be satisfied with anything but the truth and the full truth. You really don’t have the energy to wait more. 

“Well, even before everything–” And this is where Yoongi waves his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. He doesn’t elaborate, although you suppose “before the almost-handjob in class and the whole mouth-fucking each other on your couch” is a bit of a mouthful. 

“Even before everything– I knew you liked me. Like, you can’t even be surprised that I knew. Because you were really obvious. Like so obvious. But yeah. I knew, and I thought it was cute, and it was super flattering.” 

You open your mouth for a response, but you concede that he’s right. You flush ever hotter. 

Yoongi’s voice drops a little lower, like he’s telling you a secret, “And it was so fun to mess with you. Like, I could make this cute fucking girl blush and giggle and squirm and it was all because of me, how can I not be flattered? How can I not want to spend more time with you, push all your buttons? I figured you’d eventually do something about it. But you never did, no matter how much I pushed it with you. I wanted you to make the first move. But we started getting closer, and I thought maybe you were never going to do anything about it. Like we agreed to be friends, but on the inside we both liked each other? I didn’t want that to happen, but I was too scared to just go and ask you out. So I was getting frustrated. So that morning, I was just messing around with you again. I wanted to annoy you during class, I wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it. But you–I guess you were frustrated too, because you called me on my bluff. And then, you know, one thing leads to another and we’re somehow at my apartment, which I barely remember how we got there in one piece before–” Yoongi stops, breathless and something tender sparkling in his eyes. His hands aren’t gripping you like you might run away, just resting on the tops of your knees. Reminding you that he’s there. 

“And now, in the present, I’m just confused? Did I like you before or after we…” He trails off, bashful still, even now. “Or do I feel like this now because we were together? And does that even matter now, because I like you regardless?”

All the blood has rushed away from your chest. It feels like someone has knocked all the air from you but also as if a winch has tightened ever-so around your heart. 

“Let’s take it slow, if that’s something you want. Nobody…” You grapple for something to say, after that hell of a fucking lovesick speech, “Nobody said that you needed all the answers now. Don’t rush.” You take his hands back into yours. 

The weight of it all hits you slowly, in successive waves. You don’t have to filter anything out, never have to make yourself feel appropriate for him. When you practice with him, study with him, eat with him… all the quiet spaces and body-wracking laughter just feel like a perfect fit. Nothing out of place. There’s never a conversation topic or something to stray away from, other than circumventing the feelings you have for him. Even then, it’s not like Yoongi pretends like the attraction isn’t there. He doesn’t skirt around it, avoid it like taboo conversation. It really only serves to amplify your conversations, a red thread pulled taut underneath everything else. 

And now, you can give into that? You can show him how you really feel, and there’s just one less thing to hide? 

“You know, you’re not blameless. I was super stressed out at the time, and with the Bach Festival and midterms and everything I guess… you gave me the opportunity to lessen that a little, so. I know, I know. It’s a shitty excuse. But I wanted things with you and with the way that things converged, it seemed like–” 

“Serendipity?”  

“A bit like that, yes.” You tighten your hands around his, and he pulls you a little closer. You’re leaning over his lap now. 

You can’t choose whether to look into his eyes or at his lips. It looks like Yoongi has the same problem. He pulls you imperceptibly closer. 

“Can I kiss you? If that’s not rushing, of course.” 

“Yeah. Yes, please.” You soften yourself into his lap, Yoongi pulling you closer by the shoulders, sliding down to rest on your arms. You relish in the sensation, knowing it’s something that you can enjoy with a reassured heart now. 

He plants a closed kiss against your lips, and somehow that makes your heart flutter more than anything else he’s ever done before. The pads of his fingertips are soft and gentle against your arms, pulling you closer by the bicep. 

“I like you… I like you a lot…” Yoongi whispers against your lips, laughing at the confession. So sweet, so soft. 

“I like you too…” You whisper, kissing back. Slow, chaste, if a bit restrained. The realization hits you again, slowly, like an ocean wave washing over wet sand. 

Yoongi likes you back. Yoongi wants you back. You laugh at how absurd it sounds, even in your own head, nipping at his lip. “Say it again, Yoongi.” 

“I like you…” Yoongi sounds coy. 

You smile against him, “Say it again,” You gasp, pushing him back on the couch, gentle but firm, “I like you too, in case you didn’t know.” You can’t help but laugh. Not at the absurdity at the situation, but just out of happy shock. 

“y/n, I like you…” Yoongi chuckles, deep in his chest, looking up at you. His hair falls out of his eyes. 

“Do you know how happy it makes me, to hear you say that?” 

You’re honestly surprised that you don’t have whiplash. Whiplash from the weeks of tension and denial, feeling like you would never get this relief, but now you have a whole new set of problems. Dating Min Yoongi. 

~

This whole “taking it slow” thing is fucking bullshit. The past couple weeks have been one long sustained effort, some kind of marathon in testing the waters, drawing back and then pushing forward. 

Maybe you spoke too soon. You have to admit that the slow build, chaste romantic courtship is nice . 

The study dates are more than nice. The coffee shop dates feel almost luxurious, expensive in time in the same way that the actual coffee is cheap. 

Actually, all of this is a lot nicer than having to guess his every intention, the message between the lines. But you already know what it’s like to have Min Yoongi. 

In fact, things have been largely the same for the past couple weeks, except now you can feel the weight of his flirtatious jokes. You can now confidently say that Yoongi says what he means. The more time you spend with Yoongi, the more liberated you feel in letting yourself delight in the feeling of being allowed to show your feelings for him, and having them be duly reciprocated. 

After the confessional evening the both of you had, Yoongi had agreed to take it slow. In your lovesick state, you probably would have said yes to anything that Min Yoongi put on the table. Which is probably why you agreed to the whole courtship thing. 

“y/n… think about it like this! If we take our time then when the time finally comes… to… uh, you know, then it’ll be so much more gratifying. And I want to be with you more, like this,” Yoongi says, as you lean against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his words. 

“Delayed gratification, have you ever heard of that?” Yoongi had said, smiling wider than you’d ever seen. 

“Although from my experience with you, I think you like instant gratification more,” He said, a touch darker. Your memory blurs now, because that was about the time he started tickling you relentlessly. And then kissing you relentlessly.  

And at the time, you had agreed. The delayed gratification would make everything better, make the world a little more rose-colored than before. 

You don’t want to push his boundaries, he doesn’t want to push yours, but now it’s begun nearly feels both of you are so afraid of each other that you haven’t touched each other in what seems like fucking forever–and it’s reached a boiling point, from what you can gather this evening. 

The newfound tension between the two of you is new, maybe a day or two at most, but annoying nonetheless. 

 “Y/n, how many times have I told you? Stop rushing. Do you need me to count your part out? One, two, three, four.” He punctuates every count with a clap in your face, and a sneer to boot. 

Yoongi has been especially volatile this evening. His normal jokes and jabs at you fall just short of endearing. Your initial approach at remedying the situation by focusing on the music at hand has only seemed to make things worse, and you’ve given in to your slowly-growing temper. 

“I am fucking counting, and I’m not the one playing fucking half notes, okay? How about you just focus on making the harmony, I don’t know, harmonious ?” You lower your violin, face screwing up in anger, only you don’t know how much of it is joking anymore. 

You don’t know how much longer you can take this kind of tension in the air. It feels angry and red and biting, but you can’t help it. The stale air-conditioned air in the practice room only seems to make your face warmer and warmer as time passes. 

All this tension, and no release. That’s what music is all about. The build-up of musical intensity, the expectation and anticipation for resolution. It’s like you’ve been stuck on the same chord of a cadence, waiting for a release that feels like it isn’t coming anytime soon. 

You take a deep breath, the frustration tightening in your chest. “From measure eighty-four, and take the fucking repeat this time. Let’s just move onto the next section after this, we’ll just come back to it later.” 

You fight the urge to huff and sigh, knowing it would only earn you a comment from Yoongi about being, as he had put it, ‘wound up.’ Yeah, no shit, you’re wound up. Wound up is putting it lightly. Just last week Yoongi had made a mess of you at his apartment, teasing you apart and then stopping just short of an orgasm. And he said the same thing last week too: delayed gratification. 

You try again, cueing him in with a sharp breath and the uptake of your bow. 

And again, and again, and again. 

“This isn’t working.” You set your violin on the soft lining of your case and rub your temples, resting your upper body on the body of the piano. You swipe the back of your hand across your face, breathing in the clean smell of the hand soap from Yoongi’s apartment bathroom, from when you were there a couple hours ago. Warm. Brown sugar. It feels like his embrace–if only you’d ever feel it again. 

God, why did you let him push all your buttons? All evening–ever since the two of you left his apartment to come to the practice rooms–he’s been acting like this. You know it has something to do with you, another game. But you don’t have the energy to divine his ulterior motive, whatever it is. You shut your eyes to provide some reprieve from the strain of staring at the same phrase that you have been stuck on for what has felt like an eternity.

“Yeah, this isn’t fucking working,” He says. It reminds you of the way he talked to you when you found him practicing in the early morning that one Tuesday. You only open your eyes when you hear him get up from his bench. 

Min Yoongi is standing too close to you. His eyes are on your lips and not your eyes. Even in the dim light of the practice room, you can see how dilated his pupils are. 

You meet his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, more breathless than he’d like to admit, “You’re provoking me. Why?” 

“Who said I was trying to do that? I think you,” You point a finger at his chest, looking into his eyes, “Are provoking me.” You try to sound as petulant as possible, and it works. 

Yoongi’s lips meet yours before you can even take your hands off of him. 

In the best sense of the word, you are cornered. Backed up against the piano, enclosed by his arms. He slips his hands up underneath the cotton of your sweatshirt, pulling you flush against him. His cool fingertips grazing the small of your back have you gasping against his soft lips. 

“Tell me, why are you provoking me?” 

“I, well-” You don’t continue with an excuse, because you’re finally getting what you want. What you both want. 

He presses on. “Gonna answer my question, or are you just gonna keep being a little brat?”  He wedges his thigh between your legs, closer to where you need him most. You stifle a moan, it’s too soon to be making those kinds of sounds, but you grind down on him anyway. “What?” He laughs, the sound sitting deep in his chest. “Aren’t you going to say something?” 

You try to focus on the possessiveness in the way that he holds you by the waist, so you’re not thinking about how weak your knees are. 

He sighs, as if in disappointment. Only you’re not sure who it’s directed towards. 

“If I touch you right now, will you be wet?” He laughs. “I don’t even have to guess.” The ghost of his breath fans against your upper lip. “Is this what you want? Do you, do you, want to keep going?” Yoongi stops his ministrations. When you meet his eyes, both of you breathless, you can see the inquiring concern in his eyes again. 

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you say, trying, and failing, not to sound frantic, “Only if you’ll see it through to the end this time,” You bite. 

He laughs, devoid of mirth. “You say that like it’s not hard for me, either.” His hands trail down your torso to rest at the waist of your jeans. You don’t want to pseudo-argue with him anymore, so you just whine a little from the back of your throat, hoping he’ll get the point. 

You don’t want him to think that this isn’t what you want, because truth be told, it is exactly what you want. Your hands come to meet his when you reach to undo the button. 

“You know exactly what to do.” He laughs, lighter this time. He’s laughing like he’s not mad at you. He helps undo your jeans, pushing them and your panties just past your thighs. You gasp when he starts rubbing gentle circles on your clit. His fingers slip against your wet, slippery pussy. 

Yoongi is everywhere. He’s crowding your space against the wall, hand down your pants, the other holding your neck in place. It’s getting overwhelming with his beautiful hand rubbing little circles on your clit. So simple, and yet it feels like you’re breaking apart underneath him. It’s getting harder and harder to bite back the moans, stay in control. 

“You know, these rooms are soundproof. Let me hear you,” He murmurs, pulling you closer. “Stop hiding from me.” 

Yoongi shifts his attention from your wet cunt to the collar of your shirt. “What’s this? Getting busy without me?” Yoongi brushes his free hand over the circular dark mark coloring the crook of your jaw. You’re starting to get impatient with all this teasing, how much more can you take? 

“Haven’t you ever heard of a violin hickey?” You spit, grinding down on his hand, but it’s not enough. God, it really has been too long since he last touched you. He never stops the gentle advance he makes on your clit, never faster, never slower. Just barely enough. “We were just practicing, it gets darker when I play.” You try to explain yourself, as if that might make him show mercy later on. 

“You’re not in any position to talk back right now, don’t forget that.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking gently. “I’ll just help you add to your little collection.” Your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself. It’s been so long since anyone has touched you. It’s been so long since anyone has held you so closely. 

Your desperation is beginning to show. With every movement of his hands, Yoongi starts to lessen his touch, your hips dogging his hand. You come to the realization that you’re not above begging to get what you want. He doesn’t even have to ask. 

He continues his gentle assault on your clit. “Do you know what these mirrors are for? They’re for checking your posture as you practice, but I guess this is just a different kind of practice.” He turns you around, your hips digging into the wood panelling of the piano. You’re confronted by your own fucked-out reflection, flushed and panting. You’re still mostly clothed, and yet you look debaucherous, like some ancient painting of a study into the nuances of female pleasure. “Look at you. All messy. And for what? I’ve barely touched you.” 

The frustration is too much, reaching a boiling point. “Please, I swear to God.” You bury your hands in your head, wiping away frustrated tears. Your legs are trembling now, now that Yoongi is only using one of his arms to brace you against him. 

“Please, what?” He digs his nails into the soft skin of your hip, and you can’t help but like it. He lowers his head so it’s level with your ear, sultry, low. “Use your words.” 

“Can’t you just, just-” Again, you buck your hips against his hand, as if that might make him get the point, only for him to nip at your inner thigh with his hand. 

“Don’t rush me, babe.” Babe. Min Yoongi is calling you babe. Is the universe playing some trick on you? 

He takes advantage of your position and leverages his knee on the inside of yours, spreading your legs further. “That’s it, just take it. Take it.” Finally, he takes pity on you and slips a finger inside. He earns an answering gasp. You can tell he means business, because he doesn’t take it slow, he doesn’t let you adjust, going directly at that spot inside of you that makes you keen for him. 

You struggle to stay upright, eyes rolling back. Your fingers scrabble along the dark wood of the piano, struggling to find purchase. 

“Fuck, Yoongi…” 

“So needy, look at you, so fucking needy...” He drives his point home further by adding a second finger. 

“I’m sooooo sorry… how can I ever make it up to you…?” Even despite the mind-bending pleasure and the prospect of Min Yoongi blowing your back out this evening, you roll your eyes. 

“What if someone hears?” Your point is lost when Yoongi changes the angle of his hand, and you break off into a ragged whimper. It’s loud enough to make you embarrassed to have made that sound in the presence of another person.  

“Oh, so you care about that now?” “What about that one time in class,” Yoongi all but pants in your ear, digging his nails into your thigh, “That you were being a desperate little cocktease?” 

You don’t answer, shame stoking the embers in your belly, driving lower and lower. You hate, and love, that he can make you feel like this with only some stern wording and a firm hand. Because it feels that good. Because you like him that much. 

“What then, hmm?” Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response however, before he’s yanking your jeans and panties further down your thighs. “Do me a favor. Touch yourself for me. Show me.” 

“Why?” 

“Wanna see you all messy for me,” Yoongi says, voice silky soft, liquid sex. He guides your hand down to your pussy, and god, you realize just how embarrassingly wet you are for such little foreplay. “Please?” He presses his chest flush to your back, leaning his forehead into the crook of your neck. 

You oblige him. You’re wet to the point where it’s difficult to find purchase against your clit. “Okay… but you have to forgive me.” 

“Forgive you for what?” 

“For being needy…” You say, sweetly. 

“Sure. I’ll forgive anything you do if you do this every time.” He says it like it’s a matter of fact. 

You giggle, like a lovesick idiot. At the very least, you’re glad that Yoongi can make you laugh even when you’re half-play-fighting, half-on-the-verge-of-having-sex-in-your-favorite-practice room. 

The vibrations of your laughter traveling through your body have you moving in new, novel ways against your own hand, and you break off into a moan. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He sounds genuine, and the tenderness of the moment isn’t lost to you, even despite your pleasure. At least now that you’re touching yourself, you don’t have to suffer the patient wrath of Yoongi and can touch yourself the way that you see fit. 

You feel his free hand nudge against the back of your thigh and when you look, he’s dragging the heel of his hand across his pants. 

Fuck. Fuck, you are so wrecked for Min Yoongi. 

“No, you too,” you say, “Show me too.” 

Yoongi moves away from you, pushing his waistband past his hips. He’s gripping his cock in one hand. He’s reaching for your waist again, his hand traveling up to grasp your throat. He jerks your head back. “Look, look at yourself.” 

The combined sensation of his hand on your neck and own hand on your pussy is too much. Your eyes water. “Yoongi,” You gasp, “I’m going to come.” 

“No, not yet. Not yet.” He wrenches your hand away, and the sudden lack of touch is almost cruel. 

You buck against him, his back to you. “Please, please let me come, I can’t–you can’t do this again, fuck,” Your desperation comes out in whines, all shame lost. 

“Be patient, come here.” He turns you around again, your back against the wood of the piano. And you’re looking into his eyes, dark and filled with something like lust. Min Yoongi wants you. You reach up to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

Yoongi’s on your clit again, drawing light circles, testing the wetness before slipping a finger inside again. “I wanna hear you,” He says, adding another finger, more tenacity behind his strokes. He rocks his thumb against your clit. “I wasn’t asking.” 

Up until now you’ve been biting your lip, muffling your cries as best as you can. You look up at him again, drawing up your courage. You feel exposed–how can you not, half-naked in the practice room, when you’re not completely confident that the soundproof padding on the walls can contain the sounds of your rapture. 

“You-you fuck me so good Yoongi–” And you keen, just because he asked you to. 

He stops in his fucking tracks. Again. 

“Well. You fuck me so well. You can’t describe a verb with an adjective. God, I really shouldn’t let you come…” 

“Oh my God, are you really going to do this right now.” You bear down on his hand with your hips again, seeking more friction. “Please… please, I can’t wait anymore.” You can hardly finish your sentence, as Yoongi fucks into you with a particularly hard thrust. You’re finding it difficult to keep your eyes open, instead opting to rest your head on his shoulder. 

God, he smells so good. Like fresh laundry and the melting snow outside, warm and human and reassuring. 

You can feel his smile ghosting over your neck as he leans down to suck another mark into your collarbone. “Yes, yes, I am.” 

“I’m–I’m getting close again,” You say, fisting your hands in his shirt, “Just, ah–” It takes you by surprise, crashing over you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to stay upright, pulling Yoongi against you. You can feel his satisfied smile, as he pants against the curve of your neck, hot and heady and everything you need. 

“Good?” He asks, after your breathing has calmed, even though you know that he knows that he’s done more than a good job. 

“Okay, okay, enough bragging,” You half-laugh, half-scoff, pulling your pants up past your hips again. 

“I wasn’t bragging,” He whines. It’s endearing, and you pepper his face with kisses before you get to business again. 

You sink to your knees before him, and his expression immediately softens. You try to bridge the gap between the two of you, placing the palm of your hand on his thigh. Asking for permission. 

“Are you sure?” He says, but the expression in his eyes saying something to the effect of “I really hope you’re sure.”  

“Yes, I’m sure,” You say, smiling as you tease the head of his cock with your parted lips. You replace his hand with yours. It’s barely any contact, really, but Yoongi closes his eyes in pleasure nonetheless, head tilted back. Normally, in any other situation like this, you’d be at least a little bit nervous. Or shy, hoping that Yoongi keeps his eyes closed so he’s not looking at you. But the absolute deprivation you’ve felt for the past couple weeks is enough for you to not care. 

You sink lower, in the wake of remembering how pent up and frustrated you’ve felt for the past couple weeks. You even, at least try to, bat your eyelashes at him. But like you guessed (or had hoped), his eyes are squeezed shut. You try not to delight in the sudden change of power too much, but it’s impossible not to. 

He tightens his grip on the back of your neck, groaning. “You’re so good to me.” You take him further in your mouth, eager to please. Eager to hear him make more of those sounds. Eager to take this further. 

You try your best to make it slick, flattening your tongue against him. You’re a little out of practice, after months of being alone, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. And if he does, he’s still enjoying himself. Thoroughly. 

“Fuck, fuck,” He gasps, in hushed whispers. 

“What a mouth on you…” Yoongi moves stray hairs out of your face, surprisingly tender given the lewdness of the situation. The sounds of your mouth fill the practice room, although hopefully not loud enough to expose your vulnerable position. You truly hope that the soundproof padding lining the walls works as advertised. 

“Ah–ah wait, I’m getting close, wait–ah, y/n, fuck,” He rasps. You don’t let up quite yet, letting him sit in that in-between space between ‘on the edge’ and ‘letting go’. His free hand makes a weak fist against his leg. 

Someone knocks on the door. Your first thought is that it may be security wrapping up rounds for the night. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you stand upright and zip up your jeans. The surge from adrenaline at the prospect of getting caught in the act makes your head pulse and spin. Your heart seems to have fallen from the left side of your chest all the way into the pit of your stomach. 

It’s hard to remember how aroused you were, not thirty seconds ago. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” For someone who was quite literally about to be balls-deep inside you, Yoongi tucks his dick back inside his pants with a surprising amount of tact and speed. 

Yoongi is fixing his hair in the practice mirror as you cross the room at the piano bench, pulling out your phone to make it look like the two of you were just dawdling or taking a practice break. 

Maybe twenty seconds have elapsed since the first knock at the door, which you reason might be a reasonable time for someone to stop practicing, and walk to the door to answer it. You hope it might seem reasonable. 

You can feel the pulse in your neck moving as Yoongi opens the door. You train your eyes on your phone screen, as if that might make you more nonchalant.  

“Hey, Yoongi-hyung.” The voice at the door is youthful, and energetic. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here this late. I was looking for you!” You finally muster up the courage to stop staring at your phone, your eyes venturing to the other side of the room. 

It’s… Jungkook?  

Jungkook, as in, the only bassoonist in the department, Jungkook? 

Jungkook must have had the same idea as you, because he looks over at you at the same time you do. 

His smile falters, albeit briefly. Whatever replaces it is something akin to a smirk. A knowing smirk. An accusatory smirk. A proud smirk. 

“Hyung, who’s that?”

[tickle-bugs]

Justice League Headcanons

So...yeah. Blame @fickle-tiction and @fanficsandfluff but I can’t get JL out of my head. I know next to nothing in terms of canon and I only enjoy a handful of DC movies, so this is the beginning of what I am calling the BEU (Bug Extended Universe). 

Essentially, in the words of Nick Fury, ‘I recognize your canon, but seeing as it’s a stupid-ass canon, I have elected to ignore it :)’. A mish-mash of everything I’ve learned about DC through osmosis and my own personal vibe checks :)

This is absurdly long so everything is under the cut:

Clark Kent

- Superman? NO, Superdork. 

- He’s extremely clumsy. If he wasn’t as fast as a speeding bullet he’d get his ass handed to him ten times over. He has two left feet. 

- He has a sweet tooth like no one’s business. Lois once found him perched on the kitchen counter at 3 am eating the donuts she brought home from work. 

- Super playful and affectionate! King of bear hugs! Country boy I love youuuuuuu

- Curses like a sailor. Do you really think Clark ‘Smallville, Kansas’ Kent is wholesome? He stubbed his toe once and yelled FUCK so loud that the windows vibrated. Everyone who isn’t in the league thinks he’s a boyscout but the league knows the truth. 

- Forgets about his powers a lot. He has been known to run through walls/take doors off their hinges when he’s excited. 

- Goblin. He loves messing with Bruce and roping Barry into his schemes. 

- Clark being ticklish is actually smth that can be so personal? His laugh is so loud and he always goes ‘sorry’ and tries to be quieter but it does NOT work. He has flight instincts more than fight instincts so he often starts unconsciously floating away when he’s tickled it’s so cute. He giggles a lot and he’s not particularly embarrassed by it.

- Do NOT get me started on ler Clark I could write a dissertation. He is SO playful and teasy but also sweet? He definitely is the type to laugh along with his lee. He definitely allows any sort of retaliation/fighting back like,,, if you manage to crawl away it’s because he let you, and if he wants too, he can be very mean and immovable.

- Bruce and Barry are his favorite targets. He doesn’t go after Diana because, frankly, he doesn’t have a death wish. He loves to cause problems on purpose by squeezing Arthur’s side and then blaming it on Barry. (Hal Jordan isn’t in the DCEU Justice League but I wish he was...they’d be partners in crime <3)

Bruce Wayne

- Okay let’s clarify some things: he’s not actually an asshole. He can be abrasive and snarky but he’s more towards the sarcastic gruff side vs straight-up mean.

- A lot of people think he’s genuinely an asshole/disconnected rich guy because he has a terrible habit of zoning out/interrupting people? Bruce actually just has intense ADHD that he refuses to get diagnosed, no matter how much Alfred pushes him. He doesn’t care what people think about him and he’s mostly learned how to manage it, so he leaves it alone.

- That being said, his friendship with Barry has me :’) Yes, he thinks Barry’s a pest (affectionate), but they share a few science-related hyperfixations (robotics, chemical engineering, etc). They can frequently be found holed up in the Batcave with a week’s worth of food and caffeine, and they’re just....tinkering. Watching them at work is amazing because as much as they annoy each other, they respect each other :)

- He’s 100% a cat person. He doesn’t have a problem with dogs, he just prefers cats. He feeds the strays that hang out around the Manor all the time...

-...which Alfred begs him not to do, because Bruce is severely allergic. He thinks he can power through the allergies until one of the stray cats does the face-headbump thing and he’s incapacitated emotionally and physically for the rest of the day. 

- He severely restrains his emotions but like...catch him on a good day or in a good mood and he’ll smile and laugh, especially in friendly company. He just generally believes in maintaining a poker face so no one can read him. 

- Not to be disrespectful but...thighs. I am Looking. 

- Bruce has a wonderful laugh. He’s not much of a giggler tbh but he has this open, clear, slightly scratchy kinda laugh (his voice is permanently hoarse from the Batman Voice). It’s so lovely. He has a habit of covering his mouth bc he’s embarrassed of his smile but if he finds something very funny he’ll laugh openly. 

- Thee Batman is ticklish and he...doesn’t hate it? Like of course he protests ten ways from Sunday but he more minds the ‘guys stop you’re ruining my dark and brooding facade’ bit. He hates being teased though and he will throw hands. 

- Circling back to the emotions thing, he’s very good at controlling his reactions, which means he has thoroughly convinced everyone he’s not ticklish. Except Clark, stupidly perceptive Clark, because he can hear Bruce’s heartbeat and see the way he clenches his jaw to avoid smiling. 

Diana Prince

- WIFEY!!!!! 

- Diana is hilarious okay? She’s just...so fucking funny. Her jokes never miss. You wouldn’t think she’s the quippy type, but she is, and she’s damn good at it. In a distant alternate universe, Peter Parker senses a rival. 

- Loves fresh fruit, but especially strawberries? She makes frequent trips to the local farmer’s market. 

- She also has a raging sweet tooth. She and Clark work together to steal sweets and buy snacks. 

- Will not back down from a challenge, ever. It’s kinda a problem.

- She has such a sweet laugh :’) It’s so bouncy and melodic and she scrunches her nose. She WILL snort and it’s the cutest thing ever. Yes she’s ticklish, but no one gets more than five seconds of laughter out of her before she turns the tables. 

- World’s meanest ler. Not only is she frequently on the prowl, she is near-ruthless, especially if she’s been baited. Once she sets her sights on someone, she won’t rest until she’s heard their laugh. 

- Diana is very mischievous and loves hearing her friends laugh. It’s impossible to be in her vicinity for more than five minutes without at LEAST a few pokes. She is not above just,,, random tickles either. 

- Nails. That is all. 

Arthur Curry

- Why are his tiddies always out? Someone please explain.

- The most targeted for pranks ever. Diana especially. Something about him just attracts goblinism. 

- He’s coming for Clark’s bear hugger crown. He picks people up so often that they’re just used to it now. 

- Playfighting and roughhousing is his love language. He absolutely loves wrestling with anyone who’ll humor him. He and Diana frequently tussle because they’re both good sports about it (Bruce is a little bit of a sore loser. Just a smidge). 

- Thinks he can get away with anything, which is decidedly not true. He just nopes his way out of the room and everyone’s like D:< get back here and atone for your sins!!! But Arthur’s already in the Pacific Ocean. 

- I like to think he’s ticklish, just not super ticklish y’know? He probably has a couple hidden spots that make him lose it though. Like he’ll definitely laugh and fall over, but he can and will fight back. Oh boy, will he fight back. 

- Batman: No fear.

Diana and Arthur sneaking up behind him:

Batman: One fear. 

- Y’know that picture of Jason Momoa sneaking up behind Henry Cavill on the red carpet? That is extremely relevant. Arthur loves to sneak up behind people and just...take them down. 

- Thinks Barry is annoying (affectionate) and the two of them are constantly chasing each other around. Barry is fast but Arthur’s strong (and wayy less ticklish than Barry)

- Physical affection!! He always has his arms around someone’s shoulders or something. He’s just a touchy kind of guy :)

Barry Allen

- Speedy boy! ADHD king! Sometimes his thoughts are also at superspeed, which means he talks way too fast and no one can understand him? But Bruce speaks fluent Barry and he translates often (though not without a labored sigh beforehand). 

- Physically affectionate but casual about it? He likes to play with people’s hands while he’s talking, bump shoulders with whoever he’s next to, etc. He doesn’t really realize he does it either. It’s not uncommon for him to be talking to Clark or Diana and they just...unconsciously give him their hand before he reaches for it.

- Okay so y’know how Bruce feeds the strays? Who do you think lets them in the first place? Barry has tried to adopt every stray he comes across, and when Alfred inevitably says no, Barry runs them to the shelter himself :’)

- Gifting is his love language!!! If he sees anything that remotely reminds him of his friends, he brings it to them. 

- He likes to hang out with Victor because he’s quiet, but doesn’t mind when Barry rambles, which he tends to do quite often. Barry will catch himself rambling and trail off, but Victor will encourage him to keep going, because he’s listening. 

- Thee Pillsbury Doughboy. Just these high-pitched, bouncy, frantic giggles that only get worse and eventually morph into cackles. He hiccups a lot too :’)

- Okay so he’s not a flailer but he’s super squirmy. Barry will cling onto his ler’s arms just to hold onto something. He kicks his legs too (he does this when he’s not being tickled either, if he laughs and he’s sitting somewhere he kicks). He also just constantly tries to crawl away. If he isn’t pinned down he will drag himself to safety. He also has a habit of curling up :’)

- Absolutely invented the speed-tickle. He actually doesn’t often use his powers (unless he’s chasing down Clark, because Clark isn’t above breaking the sound barrier to escape). He’s just got incredible hand-eye coordination and precision. His hands will be absolutely everywhere and he is so teasy about it. 

- Tries not to start fights he can’t finish, but he always gets roped into Clark’s mischief and gets targeted with revenge tickles. 

- He has tickled Clark once. It was incredible, amazing, showstopping, spectacular. Literally his crowning achievement. Did Clark absolutely destroy him afterwards? Yes, but it was so worth it. 

Victor Stone

- Quiet and stoic, but he’s always preferred listening and interjecting with a joke or two. 

- Closest with Barry and Diana, but he’s making an effort to bond with everyone.

- Unfortunately not ticklish :( I like to think soft touches on his face will make him smile and lean away, but it’s not going to get a laugh from him.

- Doesn’t often get involved in tickly shenanigans, but when he does, he surprises everyone with how much fun he has. A different, warmer side of him comes out when he’s among his friends.

- He’s a hugger! Definitely awkward about it, but he loves hugs and just...holding his friends. 

- He collects hoodies. He can’t really feel them when he’s wearing them, but he likes them and the idea of it. Barry seems to slip him a new hoodie every week. Victor has no idea where he gets them from but he’s not complaining. 

- He is an enabler. He will look at Bruce like :| “no, I don’t know where Barry and Clark are, nor do I no what they’re planning” But they’re literally right behind Bruce, about to squeeze his sides. 

- That being said, he won’t do that with Diana. If she asks where they are, he’ll subtly nod his head in their direction. Even in jest, he will never lie to her. Which makes him Thee person to avoid when Diana’s on her mischievous streaks.

[goodlucktai]

could you do 39 for natsume yuujinchou?? i love your work <3

PROMPTS LIST

39. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!” “And I’m trying to subtly avoid it!”

x

Tsuji forced all his friends to take a first aid class with him over the spring holiday. To the collective surprise of the entire group, Nishimura and Kitamoto were certified already. 

Kitamoto’s mom is a doctor, he explains, and believes in her kids (biological or otherwise) being as prepared for the world as she could make them. They go to all those pop-up classes the clinic and community center have to offer. They’re CPR-certified and could probably triage in their sleep. 

When Taki thinks about it for longer than fifteen seconds, it stops being such a surprise. 

“Hey,” Nishimura says, stooping to an easy crouch in front of Tanuma, fearless in the face of what is probably the scariest thing Taki has ever seen. “Look at me, buddy. I’m gonna take your hands, okay?”

Tanuma’s dark eyes are-- bright and glassy, almost vacant. He looks at Nishimura like he’s looking right through him. But when Nishimura takes his hands, Tanuma’s grip is vice-like. He might as well be dangling off a cliff’s edge for how hard he holds on. 

Nishimura doesn’t even twitch. His face is like an open wound, hurting and raw, but he’s absolutely steady; a rock for the ocean to crash against. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “I know you’re scared. You’re allowed to be scared. But I need you to breathe, okay?” 

Taki thinks she understands, now, at least part of the reason why he and Natsume struck up such a fast friendship. Natsume is such a loner, and Nishimura has an extremely tight-knit relationship with his best friend, they’re both hard people to get to know. But they were friends inside a week, inseparable inside a month, and part of it must be this-- Nishimura knowing how to tend these invisible hurts-- letting someone in pain hold on to him too hard. 

“I’m gonna count, and you’re gonna breathe,” Nishimura is saying. His tone isn’t urgent. It’s friendly and quiet, like he’s talking during a sleepover when not all of their friends are awake yet. “Normally it’s a ten-count, but that seems generous. Let’s aim for three, okay? Inhale for three, exhale for three. You can do this, Tanuma, I know you can. I’ll do it with you.”

It’s a matter of minutes, long and painful, before Tanuma’s shallow breaths take a more controlled tone. He’s trembling, as if he’s cold, and Taki wants so badly to throw her arms around him that she’s trembling, too. 

She leans against Nishimura, instead; soaking up comfort and hopefully sending some back in turn.

“Can you talk to me now?” Nishimura asks. Tanuma seems to consider for a second, some awareness bleeding back into his eyes, and then nods his head in a sharp little jerk. “Oh, good. You’re doing really good. I want you to try to name five things you can see, okay? Just look around and tell me when you spot something.”

This seems to be an overwhelming task at first. Tanuma’s eyes slide away and then dart back a couple times, as if afraid to lose the one safe touchstone of his friend, front-and-center. But Nishimura is infinitely patient, more patient than Taki has literally ever seen him before, as if he saves all of his self-control for these specific occasions, wheedling and coaxing until finally Tanuma plays along. 

“Nishimura,” is the first thing Tanuma says, and Taki thinks that it’s the beginning of a request, but Nishimura smiles. 

“Cheating a little, but we’ll count it. Four more.”

The sky is the second thing, hanging above them in a curtain of vivid blue, impossible to miss. Nishimura’s schoolbag is the third, discarded in the grass beside them where he dropped it without a second thought. A bright yellow pencil case is the fourth, spilled out of the bag alongside workbooks and graded homework. Taki is fifth. She beams at him, and remarkably manages not to cry. 

“Awesome,” Nishimura praises him. “Let’s keep this ball rolling. Four things you can feel.”

It comes a little easier this time: their hands, still joined, skin pressed white from the force of their grip; the grass underneath them, soft and springy; the late afternoon sunshine; the breeze. 

They keep going through three things he can hear, two things he can smell, and by the time Nishimura asks for one thing he can taste, and Tanuma says, “Um-- I don’t really taste anything? My mouth, I guess?” Taki can let go of the last of her fear. She finally leans in to give Tanuma that hug. He leans against her with a sigh that sounds so weary it makes her heart physically ache. He only hugs back with one arm, because he’s still holding one of Nishimura’s hands with the other. 

Natsume returns at that point at a dead run, a plastic bag dangling from one hand, Nyanko-sensei keeping pace at his feet. He’s windblown and breathless, but not as haggard as he would have been if he’d really run all the way into town and back again, so Taki has her suspicions that he flew most of the way. 

“I got everything you said,” he says by way of greeting. He shoves the bag into Nishimura’s hand and then glues himself to Tanuma’s side. Taki magnanimously allows it, only releasing Tanuma when his arm around her loosens first. 

Nishimura hums his thanks, rooting through the Family Mart bag without urgency. He produces a green tea first, twisting the cap off before handing it over. When Tanuma has taken a few agreeable sips, Nishimura holds up a dark chocolate bar in one hand, and a yogurt cup in the other. 

“Snack time. Which do you want? Choose wisely because I’m eating the other one.”

Tanuma cracks a smile and takes the chocolate bar. Probably, Taki thinks, because he recognizes Nishimura’s favorite yogurt when he sees it. And it’s that, more than anything, that reassures her that everything is okay. 

Nyanko-sensei crawls into Nishimura’s lap instead of Tanuma’s, surprising them all. Suspiciously, Nishimura holds his food up and away from the creature, but Nyanko-sensei only huffs and settles into a comfortable loaf. 

“Um,” Tanuma says, because of course he does, “I’m really sorry about-- ”

“Nope,” Nishimura replies. “Tell him the rule, Natsume.”

Ruefully, Natsume recites, “‘No apologizing after a panic attack because it’s not nice to make our friends angry on purpose.’”

Taki digests that silently. Apparently Natsume has these terrifying episodes, too. 

“It’s like apologizing for having an allergic reaction or something,” Nishimura says, a little heatedly. He stabs viciously at his yogurt with the little plastic spoon it came with, not looking anybody in the eye. “Like, it doesn’t make sense.” 

“I-- I guess so?” Tanuma says uncertainly. “I mean, that doesn’t seem like the same thing at all-- ”

“Nishimura is the expert here,” Taki cuts in, not unkindly. She gives Tanuma’s knee a gentle thump. “We’ve only had one first aid class. He’s had about four-hundred.”

“Yes, exactly,” Nishimura says, “thank you, Taki.” 

Tanuma looks bewildered, and pale and tired, and he’s still leaning against Taki like he doesn’t have the strength to keep himself up. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he isn’t allowed to apologize, but Nishimura doesn’t give him another opening. Once the tea is gone and the snacks are consumed, he rallies everyone to their feet with a clap of his hands, with all the energy of a kindergarten teacher. 

“Movie night’s still on, right? Kitamoto is probably waiting at your place already, Natsume. Let’s get a move on!”

Later, when Taki is two hours into her Internet research of how to handle any similar situation with even a fraction of Nishimura’s competency, she’ll learn how important it is to stick around after a panic attack. Had it been up to her, she might have suggested they reschedule, that Tanuma would probably appreciate his own peaceful, quiet home for the rest of the night instead, but even this much is part of the process. Keeping him company, keeping him distracted, giving his thoughts no chance to settle on whatever it was that had so upset him in the first place. She has so much to learn. 

Kitamoto is waiting for them, after all, sitting on the engawa with Touko-san as they stroll up. He smiles automatically when he sees them, but Taki is watching for it, waiting for it, and she sees it-- the sharp way his eyes zero in on Tanuma after all of two seconds. 

But all he says is, “There you are. Aunt Touko and I thought we were going to have to send out a search-and-rescue team.”

Touko laughs, and goes around to welcome them all inside properly. Her hand lingers on Tanuma’s shoulder, and her eyes are so warm and caring that she doesn’t need to say anything at all. Tanuma ducks his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. Natsume beams at his mother. Taki smiles, too, but she doesn’t follow them inside. 

Her eyes are drifting back to the yard, where Kitamoto is attempting to gently interrogate Nishimura and Nishimura is pretending like he doesn’t hear him. 

“Stop talking about yogurt,” Kitamoto is saying. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.” 

“And I’m trying to subtly avoid it,” Nishimura shoots back. 

“You don’t have a subtle bone in your body, Satchan,” Kitamoto says. His voice and face go very soft, like morning frost thawing in the sun. “Tell me what happened.”

Nishimura seems to hold out for all of five seconds. Then he blurts, “Tanuma had a panic attack. I have no idea what set him off. I talked him through it but I didn’t know what I was doing, I was fumbling through it the whole time like an idiot, I wish someone else had been there, he deserves better than that-- ”

Taki is startled, almost horrified, but Kitamoto doesn’t seem surprised. He just looks sad. He reaches out, even though Nishimura’s hands are still full of Natsume’s cat and the Family Mart bag, and tugs Nishimura forward against his chest. Then both his arms wrap around Nishimura’s shoulders like a blanket, like Kitamoto is trying to fold him up into something he can carry with him everywhere, safe and secure.

For the first time all afternoon, Taki realizes that Nishimura must have been terrified. He loves his friends loudly and unselfconsciously, and no amount of training would have made it easy for him to watch one of them in the grip of a panic attack, struggling to breathe and clinging to him for help. 

This is why Nyanko-sensei stuck with Nishimura, Taki thinks. Tanuma had the combined support of three of his closest friends, and all Nishimura had was a grumpy old cat. 

“It’s okay,” Kitamoto says. “You did good.”

“You weren’t even there, Acchan, you don’t know that,” Nishimura snaps, only it sounds more like a sob, and Taki is frozen in the open doorway of Natsume’s house. 

“Of course I know that.” Kitamoto pillows his cheek on the top of Nishimura’s head and just holds him, like he has nowhere else to be and nothing else to do. “I know you. I know you did good.”

Taki gives in to her baser instincts. Leaving the door wide open behind her, she charges over to the two of them and all but slams into Nishimura’s back. Kitamoto sees her coming, but Nishimura gives a yelp of surprise, and Nyanko-sensei grumbles as he’s further squished. 

Worming her hands between them in order to better hug Nishimura as hard as she can, Taki says, “You were amazing, Nishimura. You were perfect. I’m so grateful you were there. Thank you so much.”

“See?” Kitamoto says. Taki can’t see him, but his voice is shaped like a grin. “I have an inside source right here.”

Nishimura squirms, like he’s thinking about making a break for it, but they have him sandwiched pretty securely. He subsides with a grumble that Taki can tell is fake. It makes her smile and squeeze him even tighter. 

“Don’t tell Tanuma,” he mumbles, all wet and muffled because he’s crying and his face is buried in Kitamoto’s shoulder. “He already feels guilty. We gotta be on our A-Game so he doesn’t get sad.”

“You’re benched for the rest of the night,” Kitamoto replies. “You’ve done more than your fair share. Me, Taki and Natsume can take it from here, if Aunt Touko doesn’t swoop in and fix everything herself before we get the chance. Right, Taki?”

Taki thinks its impossible how much she loves her friends. She understands completely why Nishimura is so noisy about it, why he refuses to be embarrassed about it. She thinks she never, ever wants to be in a situation like that again, where two of them are suffering right in front of her and she can’t do anything to help. She thinks, the next time one of those classes are offered at the clinic, she’s going to go. She thinks she’s going to talk to Tsuji about it tomorrow.

“Right,” she says. “We’ve got you.”

[drazzilder]

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder

Chapter 5: The Cold

It takes a few hours for Endeavor to get you released from the hospital into his custody. When you two finally make it outside, the sun is already starting to set and the sky is turning a hazy red. A black car pulls up and a gentleman comes out and opens the rear door.

“Right this way Mr. Endeavor.”

“Thank you, Lenard”

You enter the car nervously and sit down on the left side. He follows suit and you both settle down as the car begins moving. “Where will you be taking me?” You ask, a little fear in your voice as you still question if Endeavor is really on your side.

“You will be coming with me to my hero agency. We have a few beds there that you can use until you find yourself a place to live.”

“Don’t I need money to live somewhere. I was on the streets because no one would hire me or my friends.” You say with while clenching your pants.

“I will be paying you as my apprentice. You said ‘friends’. Was there more than just you and Adam?”

“There was 4 of us total in the group: Adam, Jason, Greg, and I all managed to escape the facility. We were all at the stadium: Jason made the large crystals and Greg used is fire ability to fuse them together.”

“Do you mind me asking where they are now?”

“I don’t know. That’s the plan we came up with. If things got to hot, I was to attract the FBI or whoever was after us so the others could escape. We separated about 2 years ago. I have been teleporting across the earth keeping them close but far enough so I could escape quickly. I ended up in Japan about 6 months ago but I think the people looking for me didn’t follow me here. I really miss my friends and I hope they are ok.” You say this as you begin to shake a little.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s ok, they are strong and I know they will survive. So, what will I be doing as your apprentice?” You ask trying to change the subject.

“You will be training to become a hero. Combat training, crisis management, all the rules and regulations: everything needed to become a hero. First you will be my sidekick then you will work on being a hero by yourself.”

“Why?” You look towards your feet.

“What do you mean why?”

“Why help me? I’m a murderer, a monster, I have a demon living inside of me, how can I be a hero?”

“You have done more heroic actions then some full-time heroes. The stadium, the crossing, I know there are more you haven’t mentioned.” He places his left hand on your shoulder. “Let me help you become what I know you want to be: a hero.”

“What makes you think I want to be a hero?”

“Well, Zaheer, I know you could have taken over (Y/N)’s body a long time ago if you really wanted to be evil.”

“Hurting people does not come naturally for me. I do rather like (Y/N) and would rather help people.”

“Well that’s good to hear. Ah. It looks like we are here.”

As you look outside of the car, you see a tall building that must be the hero agency Endeavor was talking about. You both set out of the car and walk towards the building but you stop about 6 feet from the door. Endeavor looks back to see you looking at the ground, holding your right arm with your left hand.

“I….I….I don’t know if I can go in there.”

“What’s wrong? It’s just a building? It’s not going to hurt... wait. Does this remind you of the facility?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, fear flowing through your whole body at this point.

“Here.” The man sighs. “Take my hand and we can walk in together.” He reaches his hand towards you and you are almost shocked back to normal as you see his hand in your field of view. You take his hand in your left and you get that feeling again. The feeling you first felt when he picked you up at the crossing. Warmth. Everything during your years at the facility was so cold. Cold tables, cold probes, cold floors, cold food: everything was cold. But when he grabs your hand, you feel an intense warm go through your body. “It must be his quirk” you thought but you must admit, it feels so nice. This warmth manages to thaw your frozen state and you begin walking into the building. Luckily the elevator to the top floor is glass because it if was a metal box, you would have rather died than go in there.

“Welcome to the Endeavor Agency.” Endeavor turns to you with a faint smile on his face as you walk into the large room that you assume is his office.

“It’s really nice, it feels so warm in here.” You say as you sit on the couch, looking at the fireplace, exhausted from being so tense in the hospital. Your stomach begins to growl.

“Are you hungry (Y/N)? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I’m used to being hungry, but I will admit the food at the hospital was better than anything I have eaten before. At least what I can remember.”

“You must be joking? The food at the hospital is ok at best. Why don’t I ask Sanji to get us some real food? Do you have any favorite foods?”

You shrug “I don’t know what I like, I’m just used to eating what is given to me or what I can find or kill.”

“You probably can’t make my favorite.”

“Why don’t I see if we can get you what I like?”

“I’ll eat anything so I’ll try it.”

Endeavor picks up the phone: “Sanji, please order us two of my favorites for here. Thank you.”

You patiently sit on the couch, almost falling asleep to the sounds of papers and pens moving across Endeavor’s desk. It is probably about 30 minutes or so until you hear the phone ring on his desk. “Your food is here Sir; would you like me to bring it in now?”

“Yes, that is fine.”

Sanji walks in with a tray with 2 meals on it and places it on the edge of his desk. “Thank you Sanji, that will be everything.”

“Yes, Sir” she leaves just as quickly and quietly as she entered.

“Come (Y/N), pick whichever meal you want.”

“What is it?”

“It’s kuzumochi. It’s made from wheat, it’s similar to jelly. Go ahead and take one, but don’t you dare make a mess on the carpet.” Endeavor’s eyes narrow at the last statement

“Ok.” You say as you begin to take one of the plates and a napkin. You head over to a seat at place the plate on your lap. The first thing you do is pick up one of the jelly pieces and begin to look at it, smell it, squeeze it. You notice Endeavor is looking at you so you quickly put the first piece in your mouth trying not to be rude. That’s when you begin to feel it, something you hate more than anything in the world: cold. The food is cold, it sends a pain strait to your head. You clench over your right eye and begin to make some pained grunts. Memories of the cold testing facility you spend so long in, the room, the tables you laid on for hours as they cut you open while you were awake. The screams of pain you made while the doctors continued to poke and prod at your insides. It’s becoming too much as your vision starts going black.

“What’s wrong? Are you allergic?” Endeavor has gotten up at this point and is quickly coming towards you to bring you some water. The only thing you manage to say between the pained memories flooding your brain is “too cold”. That’s when Endeavor realizes water isn’t what you need and goes back to the food tray and takes one of the cups of tea and hands it you you.

“Drink this…”

You take a sip and reality begins to finally go back to normal as the memories go melt away and the pain recedes. After a few sips you manage to catch your breath and look at Endeavor.

“I’m sorry. It was just too cold for me I guess.” You don’t dare want to tell him that it wasn’t a physical but mental pain that the cold was causing but you just wanted to change the subject.

“Continue drinking the tea, I will warm up your food.” He takes the plate and he uses his quirk to make his hand hot enough that the heat passes through the plate and gently warms the kuzumochi. He hands the plate back to you.

“Here, I made them a little warm for you. Hopefully this is better.” He looks at you almost apologetic but he hands you the plate and heads back to his desk before you could look at his face much longer. The second bite was much better. It wasn’t warm as much as it was body temperature. It didn’t cause a reaction this time so you continued eating, finally being able to enjoy the dish.

“Thank you Endeavor, it is really good. I never had anything like it.”

“Good. Once you are done, I will show you to where you will sleep and we can get your own clothing and toiletries.”

“That’s fine. It will be nice just to sleep on a bed after so long.” You smile a little as you rub the back of your neck. After you two finish your meals, you get a quick tour of the agency as Endeavor leads you to where you will sleep for the night. As he opens the door, you find yourself looking into a blank room with few sets of bunk beds and a table in the center. Your eyes widen. You begin to breath a little harder. At this point but he picks up on it and quickly closes the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think. That must look a lot like your….”

“It’s ok.” You look down kinda ashamed that your emotions are getting the better of you.

“No, it’s not, I need to find you a place where you can sleep without stress. We don’t want you and Zaheer acting up again.”

“Hey, I can behave! But I have to agree that sleeping here would not be best for the both of us. Do you have another place in mind?”

“It Is getting late. I have an idea but I’m not sure how you will react.”

“What is it?”

“You can sleep in the guest room at my house. But you need to mind your space.”

“Really! You won’t know even know I am there!” You couldn’t hide your excitement. Being able to leave such an industrial looking place. Even though Endeavor has been the entire time, it’s still hard being in there. Maybe you can get over your past eventually see but not now.

“Don’t get too excited, you will be in my home so you will need to follow my rules.”

“I can do that.” You yawn. “I’m getting tired, can we go now?”

Endeavor nods as you two leave his agency. It’s just a short car ride to his home. It’s a traditional Japanese style of home. You two enter and are greeted by Hina.

H: “Good evening Mr. Todoroki, and who is your guest?”

E: “Hina, this is (Y/N), he will be staying with us a few days until he can find his own place.”

(Y/N): “Thank you, I hope not to be a bother” you bow trying to be polite.

H: “Isn’t he the man who saved everyone at Shibuya crossing?”

E: “Yes, he is.”

H: “Is that such a good idea?”

E: “Don’t question my decision, he is staying here.”

H: “Fine, but I’m not taking care of him, at least not without a raise.”

Endeavor narrows his eyes as he looks down at Hina. It’s only because of her personally, and being able to stand up to him, that she has lasted as long as she has. Only when you speak up does it break his glare.

(Y/N): “Endeavor, I don’t mean to bother but could you lead me to the room I will be staying in.”

E: “Yes, you must be very tired.”

You begin following him, “It’s nice meeting you, Ms. Hina.”

Endeavor leads you down a hallway into a room. The bed is on the tatami floor and a bathroom is through a door in the back of the room. He flicks the lights on and motions you to enter. You set down the few things you were given down on a short table near the bed and sit down on the bed. You look back at Endeavor with a faint smile. He just nods and says “Good night.” And closes the door. You quickly fall asleep. It’s so comforting to sleep in a bed you can call your own, even if is only for a few days at this bed. You finally are able to dream that night, the first time in years.

Next Chapter

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Called to the Office~

Au: Kaishi

Part: Eighteen

Theme: General/Comedy

Little fingers scrambled on the semi-sticky screen as the digital fruit played a slicing animation just before the boy sighed in annoyance. His dad has been in this meeting since 4 p.m. and he’s been stuck out in the hall watching Mimic and Hojo stand guard while simultaneously baby sitting him. If it weren’t for you being out with Pops today, he would just go cuddle up into your side. Kaishi groaned and turned the pad off before tucking it into it’s designated case and standing up from the his crisscross position on the ground. “How much longer is daddy going to be in this boring meeting uncle Mimic???” The beanie baby (lmao) looked up to see hopeful, large golden eyes peering down in desperation. “Eh look kid, it’s already almost 5:45. It’s gonna be alright.” Mimic tried to reassure him while Hojo just nodded off to the side. “When is daddy going to let me join him in a meeting? He said it himself, that I’m supposed to take over when he stops working like grandpa did for him. I’m old enough now to go to meetings too. It’s boring sitting here just listening through the wall.” Kaishi continued complaining. Hojo chuckled and Mimic sighed. “Hey I wouldn’t rush it. Your daddy hates the shit too, so I know you would.” Suddenly the kid gasped and Mimic instantly regretted it. “Uncle Mimic, that was a curse word.” Hojo was holding in as much laughter as he could while the boy kept a finger pointed down at Irinaka. “A curse word is just uhh...it’s just like a sentence enhancer. Yeah that’s it!”

“Sentence Enhancer?”

“Sure kid, aint you ever seen that one episode of SpongeBob?” Kaishi paused to think about Mimic’s words, his little finger pointing into his chin as he thought before gasping. “Oh yeah I remember! But I can’t remember how it ends. I just remember dolphin noises!” Hojo at this point was gasping for air while Mimic sighed in relief. “Look kid, I’ve said worse than ‘shit’ when I was your age. You just gotta make sure nobody catches you saying it and you’ll be fine.” Mimic dismissed it...Which was a mistake. Kaishi took it so literally that he was practicing in the mirror that night after he finished brushing his teeth. Over and over the boy kept whispering “shit, shit, shit...” as if it were a prayer of some sort. His plan was to be the first kid in his class to start saying it. Maybe then he would be seen as cool by the other kids. Maybe then the kids would stop targeting him and singling him out due to his ties with the yakuza. Maybe then he could even impress his little friend Ishida? 

He squealed into his pillow and blushed at the thought of it before rolling over and settling in for bed. Before he knew it, the big day had come and his confidence was through the roof. In fact, the entire day went well for the first half until a teacher overheard him in cafeteria saying: “I don’t know why they keep serving us this nasty shit.” Next thing he knew, he was sitting in the office with his eyes facing the ground, kicking his feet in the chair and waiting for you and Kai to show up...

------------------

“It’s rare that they bloom during this time of the year.” You spoke while leaning down and getting a closer view of the plants by the Koi pond. Kai stood faithfully by your side, googling info on the plants when suddenly Pops called from the edge of the porch. “Hey you two might wanna pack up gardening hour because the school called and requested for you to come and get my grandson from the office!”

“What????” Both of you said in unison. You quickly swiped the keys and Kai groaned in frustration as he dawned his beaked mask in favor of his simple black one. “I swear this had better not be some sort of discrimination again. Haven’t we already dealt with enough of this in the past?” He complained in the car while you focused on driving. “Chisaki it could be anything. Don’t forget about the times he came home banged up from fights. Or what if it’s something really bad like he had an allergic reaction to something he didn’t know he was allergic to?!” Kai reached out to gently stroke your shoulder and calm you down while you drove. “It could be any number of things but I suppose it’s better if we keep calm until we get there.” He spoke and you tried to calm down. Once on premises you both jetted down the halls into the office, scaring the front desk lady at the way the door urgently jutted open. “Chisaki I presume?” She asked and you both nodded. “He’s in there.” She pointed at the principle door and you entered first. 

“What is the meaning of it this time.” Kai grumbled while you squatted down next to the chair to check out your baby and ensure he was safe. “Well today one of Kaishi’s teachers caught him speaking in a derogatory way by saying, and I quote: “Shit”. Apparently we have a few witnesses that say they heard him say it over and over but they weren’t quite sure until earlier. I’m sure you both know the consequences of this, but I’m willing to let it slide since he’s a fairly well behaved boy under normal circumstances. I will however have to remove him for the rest of the day. I trust you two will follow through with discipline at home yes?” 

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that.” Kai spoke darkly. You could only stand to side and look with a disappointed look as your child looked up at you to at least show mercy. The car ride home was silent with tension so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Once the car was parked, Kaishi quickly gathered his things and ran into the house before you and Kai could even take your seatbelts off. He sighed and looked at you flatly. “No bargaining, Angel.” You frowned and reluctantly nodded. “Kai please just go easy on him at least?” You begged and he sighed in reply before getting out of the car. To say the least, you had to watch your son become the personal maid for the house carrying on for almost 3 weeks while Mimic got a pay dock when Kai found out he was the influence behind this. Safe to say Kaishi abstained from cursing until he was at least 18 out of fear that his father was listening somewhere somehow.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

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[eevee-eclair]

A Berry Bad Situation

Written by Eevee

Things to look out for: Body horror(?), fear, an almost panic attack, mention of torture and death, allergies, (tell me if I missed one)

Random side note: This is loosely based off Beauty and The Beast where Logan is the beast and Remus is Belle. I kinda shook it up a bit though, so enjoy this. It’s also kinda bad, but it’s hurt/comfort so enjoy it while it lasts.

~~~

Remus gasped at the large beast looming before him. It’s claws were too sharp and painted black with flecks of dried blood, dark brown fur matted with multiple split ends, somewhat familiar eyes of midnight blue, and far too many pointed white teeth. Remus wanted to run from the horrid creature, but he couldn’t. Something had rooted him where he stood.

The beast slowly made its way towards him. Remus wanted to scream, cry, laugh, do anything except just sit there while this monster ate him alive, or killed him, or tortured him, or—

Remus stumbled and fell to the ground as the monster licked him across his face. It was only then he realized he had been spiraling into a panic attack. The beast had just saved him.

“A-are you going to hurt me..?” Remus asked, carefully.

The monster shook its head and sat next to him like a big dog, waiting for attention. Remus smiled a little and reached a hand out. The beast stretched its neck and met him halfway, letting out a happy purring noise at the contact.

Remus laughed a little. “You’re just a big cat!” he said, scratching under its chin. It was then he realized why he had come here.

He jumped up, starting the beast, and started to panic again. “Oh gods! I gotta find Logan!” he cried. He looked back at the beast who had a very unimpressed look on its face. “Sorry, but I gotta go find my boyfriend. I’ll make sure to let him meet you later!”

He gave the monster one last pat on the head before running off to find Logan. He didn’t get very far before the creature pulled him back with a large claw.

Remus wasn’t amused. “Hey! I told you I’d pet you more later! I gotta go find my Starlight!” he said, trying to run away again, but the beast just pulled him back again. This time, though, it pulled him up to eye level, growling at him.

“O-okay! Okay! I-I’ll stay!” he said, suddenly very afraid.

The monster shook its head and looked him in the eye and Remus suddenly realized why those blue eyes were so familiar. “Logan...?”

It nodded and licked his face, the short tail behind it wagging happily. It let Remus down and he ran over to hug Logan. “Oh, Starlight I thought I lost you! Is this permanent?” he asked, pulling back.

Logan shook his head and licked him again before laying down and dragging Remus over, trapping him with cuddles.

“Will this go away in the morning?” he asked, looked up. When Logan nodded he smiled and got comfortable in Logan’s fur. “Then I guess we’ll just have to cuddle until you’re normal,” he said.

Logan snorted and closed his eyes and Remus did the same. They were both asleep in minutes.

———

Logan woke to a heavy pressure pressing on his chest. Opening his eyes, he saw Remus laying on top of him.

“Remus, wake up,” he said, poking his cheek. “Darling, I can’t breathe.”

Remus squirmed and opened his eyes. He looked over at Logan and smiled before sitting up. “Hey, Lolo,” he mumbled, still tired. Remus never was a morning person.

Logan smiled and sat up too, hugging Remus from behind. “Hey, Ree. How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he said. “But I should be asking you that. You were the one who turned into a giant werewolf.”

Logan went a little red in embarrassment. “I wasn’t a werewolf. Also, I slept just fine with you by my side.”

Remus hummed in acknowledgment. “Mkay, if you say so...” He started to rub his eyes, trying to wake up. “Can you tell me how often this happens? You scared me when you just ran off,” he told him, looking up.

Logan sighed. “First off, I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll make sure to tell you next time this happens. Secondly, the reason is... embarrassing, to say the least,” he mumbled, blushing a bit more.

Remus kissed his cheek. “Come on, you can tell me anything,” he said, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Okay... But you can’t laugh.” Remus nodded and pretended to zip his lips shut. Logan took a deep breath before he continued. “It’s—to put it simply—an allergic reaction...” he said at last.

Remus nodded seriously. “What are you allergic to?”

Logan blinked and looked at him. “Huh?”

“What are you allergic to?” Remus asked again. “So I can prevent this from happening again.”

Logan smiled a little. “Well, it’s ironic actually. I’m allergic to Loganberries,” he giggled.

Remus snorted and giggled with him. “That’s adorable,” he said. “But I’ll try and avoid them in the future, okay?”

He nodded and kissed him. “Thank you, Darling.”

“Anytime, Starlight,” Remus told him. “Now let’s get you home and in a bath. You smell like wet dog.”

Logan laughed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”