#his delivery of shut up is iconic

[pearlcaddy]

lockwood & co appreciation week 💀 favorite minor character

Montagu Barnes

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fanfic banner in the style of the game's achievement icons. A tattered yellow-white ID card is shown on a gray background. On the left side of the card is a stylized portrait of Miss Pauling, and on the right of the card is a stylized globe. On the right of the banner is the chapter's title in yellow-white, reading "CHAPTER EIGHT: IDENTITY THEFT" /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Miss Pauling, Medic, Heavy, Scout, Sniper Warnings: General references to trauma Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason.

Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve

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Chapter 8: Identity Theft Summary: In which Spy makes use of his disguise kit.

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Once again, Spy found himself staying on-base overnight. The drive out to the bookstore and back had been quite enough time on the road for him, after the little sleep he'd gotten the night prior, so he opted to stay rather than make the trip back home.

Fortunately the Pyro had not attempted another absurd bonfire that night, so those who chose to stay were able to sleep as well as they could. Which, for some, was not as well as might be hoped.

Spy woke before sunrise to the sound of voices—Medic's was the first he could identify, calm and authoritative and mildly annoyed, while the second was Heavy's, a low, quiet rumble. While normally he would not bother eavesdropping at such an early hour, the smell of blood from his dreams lingered in his nostrils, and he could do with a brief distraction. So, slipping out of bed, he crept to the door and listened.

"...have spoken with Herr Engineer about this, and no, it is not possible."

"Da, I know this."

"Then you did not have to wake me up at four in the morning."

"I did not mean to wake Doctor up. Only to check."

"That will not be necessary. If I am ever in mortal danger again, I will be sure to let you know."

Silence. No footfalls followed.

Medic went on, lowering his voice. "If it makes you feel better, you're not alone. That schweinhund keeps showing up in my nightmares."

"This... does not make Heavy feel better. Would like to help."

"You can do that by letting me sleep." The Medic sighed. "Tell you what—I can train Archimedes to come get you if there is a problem. Would this make you feel better?"

"...Da. I think so."

"Good. I can also prescribe you something to help you sleep."

"Maybe. Will see." A pause. "Goodnight, Doctor."

"Yes, good night."

Finally Heavy moved away, while Medic shut his door.

Spy stood for a moment, wondering if he should ask Medic for some sleep medication as well, but shook his head. No, he just needed to sleep in his own bed again, is all.

Yawning, he trudged back to the other side of the room and slipped into bed.

Everything was fine. They would be over this soon.

—-

Upon entering the mess hall, Spy abruptly remembered the events of yesterday when he found it near devoid of chairs and with multiple of his fellow mercs standing about awkwardly. Sniper lurked in a corner, nursing what was surely not his first cup of coffee; Engineer leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, eating a plate of eggs and bacon; Demo knelt awkwardly next to one of the tables, leaning his head against it; and Soldier sat in the only chair, shoveling burnt pancakes into his face.

Sighing, Spy turned away—perhaps today would be a good day to rest at home.

"The chair problem's bein' corrected," Engineer said, and Spy looked back at him. "Miss Pauling said she'd come deliver them herself."

Spy raised an eyebrow. "Good to know, but strange she would make the delivery herself."

Engineer shrugged. "I don't question these things."

"I don't expect you to," Spy muttered as he stepped past him and into the kitchen. Perhaps it would be beneficial for him to stay around a little while longer, if it meant he could speak with another potential source.

Breakfast went by quickly enough, and he hoped it wouldn't be much longer before Miss Pauling arrived. He had no desire to hang around the other mercenaries for the time being, and retreated to his bedroom, cracking open the window so he could hear Miss Pauling's vehicle when she arrived. He'd grabbed his book from his smoking room, but upon entering his room, he found his gaze drawn to the mirror.

Spy set down his book on his table and stood before the mirror. In one swift motion he whipped out his cigarette case and opened it. His gaze fell not upon his cigarettes, but the disguise kit. A few quick taps and a puff of smoke, and he found himself staring at the Engineer.

"Yee-haw, I struggle to pay attention to anything that is not made of metal!" he said mockingly in the Engineer's voice.

Rolling his eyes—invisible beneath those stupid goggles—he tapped the disguise kit again a few more times. A puff of smoke later, he was adjusting Medic's glasses. "I give pointless diagnoses and extremely unhelpful advice, and my lab reeks like a badly-maintained zoo!"

Spy shook his head, glancing down at the disguise kit again and looking through a few more disguises.

He paused.

He could, of course, turn into dead people. It was part of his modus operandi in battle—killing one of his enemies and then disguising himself as them in order to either sneak around or kill more of the enemy team. But...

For a long moment he stared at the name on the device, and, after a brief hesitation, hit the confirmation button.

When the smoke cleared, he was staring at Beatrice, the pyro of the former gray team. The disguise included her mask, but he removed it in order to stare at that face he remembered seeing what felt like a lifetime ago—the gray hair, the burn-scarred face, the singular eye. Yet... no, she still didn't look quite right.

Spy thought for a moment, then replicated a calm, smug grin.

There she was.

He would not soon forget that smile, nor the way it had twisted her face in dark, eager excitement as she looked at the Pyro.

"I like a challenge."

Spy shuddered as he spoke the words in her voice.

Admittedly, he sometimes felt joy at seeing his own enemies in pain. He might occasionally twist the knife—quite literally—but for the most part, he just did his job.

That was not, he knew, the case for this woman. This woman, who, when charged to interrogate them, asked Soldier one question before continuing to torture him, very clearly must have taken pleasure—joy, even—in what she did.

So what had she done to Pyro?

Spy lowered his head in thought. Off the top of his head, he knew what could be done to hurt most of his fellow mercenaries. Soldier, who took joy in his own torture, would have taken a severe blow to being told that he was not a true member of the United States armed forces. Heavy valued his family, and would potentially bend under threats made toward them. Engineer would be pained to see his hard work destroyed—not merely his beloved buildings, but his blueprints, which allowed him to rebuild them. He could go on, but there was no point. He knew what could hurt the others.

He did not know what could hurt Pyro—what had hurt Pyro. What had drained its life of color. What had brought it down to the point where if it dared to make a noise, it would degenerate into a panicked mess.

Looking up, he stared into Beatrice's eye.

"What did you do?"

He arranged her face into the same smug grin he saw the day she tortured Pyro, the day she died. And again he repeated the words he remembered her saying:

"I like a challenge."

Realization hit him like a sniper's bullet, and the disguise faded in a puff of smoke, leaving Spy staring wide-eyed at his own reflection.

His chest began to burn, and he stumbled over to his chair. A cigarette soon found its way into his mouth, hoping to cloud his disturbed thoughts, but his hands searched for his lighter, only to come up empty.

A motor rumbling outside interrupted his dazed thoughts, and initially he wondered where Sniper was off to before he remembered. Jumping up from his chair, he looked out the window and spotted a truck pulling in front of the base, and a familiar purple dress on the person stepping out of said truck.

Drawing in a breath, Spy straightened his jacket and exited his room. Perhaps he could talk to Miss Pauling about this—she may know something that he didn't.

But as he neared the front of the base—

"—I mean, you didn't have to come all the way out here just to see me, Miss Pauling!"

"I didn't. I came out here to deliver this myself because I knew if we sent someone else, you guys would shoot the delivery driver. ...Again."

Scout and Sniper had met Miss Pauling at the door, the latter sizing up the furniture in the back of the truck, and the former flexing his arms at every opportunity.

Scout shrugged. "Well, while you're here—"

"While you're here," Miss Pauling countered, "why don't you help me haul this stuff in." As she was turning away, she added, "Hi, Spy."

Scout looked over his shoulder, only to do a double-take. "What's with you? You seen a ghost or somethin'?"

Abruptly Spy realized that he'd been staring, and that the blood had drained from his face. But Scout was already shrugging and stepping out the door, followed by Sniper, who gave Spy a knowing look as he left.

"Yeah," Scout was saying outside. "I don't blame you for wanting first row tickets to the gunshow!"

"Oh! I'm going there with Heavy in a couple weeks, actually."

Gritting his teeth, Spy stormed into the mess hall, and, from there, into the kitchen. While normally he wouldn't bother with such menial tasks here, he removed his jacket and slipped some rubber gloves over his usual ones and began to wash the dishes that had been left to pile up in the sink. It would get him out of their way, and give him something to do while he waited for Scout to stop bothering Miss Pauling.

The sound of chair legs shrieking against the floor soon let him know that they were replacing the chairs in the mess hall. Above that, he could hear Scout's attempts at flirting, which might have amused him had it not made him remember a more dazed version of Scout's voice cracking jokes, when—

"Hey—hey! Heavy! Since when are you goin' on a date with Miss Pauling?!"

"What is Scout talking about?"

Seizing his opportunity, Spy yanked off the rubber gloves and whipped his jacket back on before hurrying out to meet Miss Pauling. He skirted past the utterly stupid argument unfolding in the mess hall and rushed out the front door, where he caught Sniper and Pauling both hauling in a new chair for the lounge.

"Miss Pauling," Spy said, and she gave him a grunt of acknowledgment. "May I have a word?"

"Yeah, sure, just let me—"

Spy approached one of the free sides of the chair and helped lift it up, bearing some of its weight.

"Oh, thanks!" She gave him a relieved smile, and the three of them carried the chair through the base and into the lounge, where they set it down. Wiping her brow, she heaved a sigh. "Sheesh, Pyro did a number here, huh?"

"Yeah," Sniper said, leaning against the chair. "Like I said, you shoulda' seen that bonfire it made!" He gestured with his hand in an attempt to indicate the height.

"Actually," Spy cut in, "that's what I wanted to talk with you about."

Miss Pauling raised an eyebrow. "The bonfire?"

Spy gave a quick look around—he hadn't seen Pyro yet today, but he didn't want to take a chance that it was anywhere nearby. Frowning, he motioned for Miss Pauling to follow him outside.

"Is it the furniture?" she asked, bewildered, as she followed. "I'm sorry, Spy, but we can't afford stuff that's as nice as what you have in your smoking room for every—"

"It's not that," Spy said as they stepped out the front door again. He looked back to see the Sniper had followed them out, but there was no reason to send him away. "It's... about the Pyro."

"Pyro?" Miss Pauling echoed. "I mean, it's not that weird for it to be setting fires."

"No, it's been acting strange. More violent on the battlefield, and strangely silent. It... managed to communicate recently that it no longer sees color."

"Oh, man..." Miss Pauling's brows knit with sympathy, and she lowered her head for a moment, only for it to shoot back up. "Oh! Do you think this is from whatever the enemy pyro did to it?"

"That is exactly what I think." He automatically tried to take a drag from his cigarette, only to remember it wasn't lit to begin with. With a growl, he tossed it to the ground and stomped it. "While I have yet to figure out the specifics of what happened... I may have figured out at least one of the details."

Both Miss Pauling and Sniper leaned forward in interest.

"Pyro has been silent, but I do not think it wants to be. However, whenever it does vocalize, it falls into a panic."

Miss Pauling looked down in thought, frowning. Meanwhile, Sniper hummed, and Spy wondered if some gossip about the incident at Medic's lab had gone around.

"Furthermore," Spy went on, "the enemy pyro took an interest in our Pyro when that idiot Soldier let slip that it could not talk."

He let that sink in for a moment. Sniper's brow furrowed, while Miss Pauling's head suddenly shot up, her eyes wide.

"I believe," he said, eyes narrowed in disgust, "the enemy pyro may have punished it for saying anything other than the information she desired."

Sniper scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Pyro can't talk—not with normal words, anyway."

"Exactly my point. She—"

"She saw it as a challenge!" Miss Pauling exclaimed, her face going pale. "She wanted to see if she could force Pyro to talk!" She wrapped her arms around herself. "Poor Pyro..." After a moment, she straightened, jabbing her thumb at the truck behind her. "I mean, all this is still coming out of its paycheck, but still."

"Bloody wankers," Sniper growled. "But what'd they even do to it?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Spy said, and looked at Miss Pauling. Sniper followed his gaze.

"...Wait," he said, pointing at Miss Pauling. "You knew about my birth parents, and where I came from. You gotta know something about where that bloke came from, or what it even is."

Miss Pauling winced. "Look, the Administrator wouldn't even tell me about it, so I'm as much in the dark as you are. Heck, she only told me about your parents because they were a lead on the world's remaining Australium."

Gritting his teeth, Sniper turned away.

"Surely there must be something you know?" Spy asked.

"Yeah—a lot! Just nothing in particular about Pyro, other than that it's not human." She rubbed her forehead. "Look—Medic might know something—"

"His knowledge is limited, as Pyro does not cooperate with examinations. What little he does know is classified."

"Ah, right. Just between him and the Administrator, huh?" Heaving a sigh, she tipped her head back. "Look, Spy... I'd really like to help you—or help Pyro, anyway—but I'm not sure what I can do."

"Well, Miss Pauling, given your unique position, I think there might be something you could do to retrieve the information I need. Even just to persuade the Administrator to—"

Miss Pauling gave a forced, humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Sorry." When Spy gave her a look, she softened. "No, seriously, I am sorry. But with how badly everything went with that last mission, I—" She cut herself off, and swallowed.

Spy looked at her for a moment, and she looked back, and he nodded slowly. "I understand."

"Thanks," she replied, her shoulders drooping. "I hope Pyro will be okay. It's nice of you to look out for it."

Spy shrugged. "It was merely a mission I gave myself, since no one else was looking into it."

Feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck, he knew Sniper was staring at him—for what reason, he didn't know, but he would not look back.

"Great!" Miss Pauling smiled, oblivious to the tension between the two mercenaries. "Sniper, could you help me get the last one?"

"Sure thing, mate." The Sniper followed Miss Pauling over to the back of the truck, but as he passed, gave Spy another look—one that seemed to say, we need to talk.

Absolutely not.

Frowning in thought, Spy hurried back into the base, heading down a few hallways until he neared the medical wing. There he stopped, looking around to make sure there was no one else around. There was no sign of anyone else heading this way, and, creeping up to the doors and listening, he could only hear Medic's voice speaking softly to Archimedes.

Casting one last look to assure himself he was alone, Spy whipped out his disguise kit.

A moment later, Miss Pauling burst into the lab. "Medic—? Oh, good, you're here."

Medic looked up, his eyebrows raised, while Archimedes fluttered up to the ceiling and Aristotle squeaked. "Ah, Miss Pauling! Good to see you!" the Medic said, smiling as he strolled up to meet her. "Finally come for your follow-up appointment? I've almost got the blood type separation technique worked out—"

"Uh, no, not today. I'm in a bit of a time crunch—since we set up office again, the Administrator realized she's missing some of the mercenaries' medical files, and I haven't had the chance to come out here until now."

Medic sighed. "Very well," he said, turning toward his filing cabinet. "Which ones did you need?"

"Just Scout, Soldier, and Pyro," she replied.

"Oh, you're in luck! I just updated Pyro's file recently."

"Yeah, great." Distractedly Miss Pauling looked around the lab, her eyes falling on Aristotle's, which were narrowed at her suspiciously. "Oh, uh, is... that the monkey you got from—never mind."

"Ja, he is!" Medic smiled as he went through the folders. "Say hello to the lady, Aristotle."

Aristotle hissed and scampered up to Medic's side.

"Now, now, that's no way to behave around patients like Miss Pauling!" Turning around, Medic wagged a finger at the baboon. "Only the bad patients. Now!" He held up the papers and looked up at Miss Pauling. "I'll make some copies of these and send you on your way. Stay here."

Miss Pauling held out a hand to protest, but Medic was already hurrying out the door. She watched him leave before turning back to Aristotle, who continued to glare at her. Then, in a deep, masculine voice that was not Miss Pauling's, she said, "What are you staring at?"

Shrieking, Aristotle scampered up on top of the filing cabinet and hid behind a pigeon nest.

Sighing, Miss Pauling crossed her arms, looking around the lab as she waited. Hearing the door open, she spun around. "Thanks, Medi—" The word caught in her throat.

Sniper stared at her from the doorway, holding out the copies of the medical records. "Looking for these, ya bloody wanker?"

"Uh, hi, Sniper!" She gave a nervous grin. "What are you doing here?"

"Dragging you out before Medic gets back." With that, he grabbed Miss Pauling's wrist and yanked her toward the doors.

"Sniper, what—?!"

His head whipped back to look at her. "Medic nearly chased the real Miss Pauling out the door to hand her these. I offered to run them out to her myself." He rushed her out the med bay doors and further down the hall, taking a couple turns before he slowed.

Meanwhile, Spy's disguise faded as he yanked his sleeve away from Sniper's hand. "I hope you've been washing your hands," he grumbled, dusting his sleeve off.

"You're welcome." Sniper stopped, and turned to face him.

"Now..." Spy reached for the papers. "Hand them over, bushman."

Sniper held the papers further away. "Tell me what this is about first."

Spy glared. "You already know what this is about."

"Oh, I do. It's you I'm not so sure about."

Rolling his eyes, Spy made another grab for the papers, only for Sniper to hold them away again. "You heard what I told Miss Pauling. I'm on a mission to find out what's happened to Pyro, and you are currently withholding vital intelligence for said mission."

"Yeah, you keep tellin' yourself that," Sniper said, his voice low.

"What are you talking about?"

Sniper leaned in closer, and Spy leaned back. "Funny, ain't it, how the one you decide to buddy up with is the one who can't talk back. Can't ask you what's wrong, or what you're running away from."

Anger bolted down Spy's spine. "Are you accusing me of being a coward? You're the one who hides in one place for an entire match!"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Spy." Even with his sunglasses, it was clear that Sniper was glaring at him. "Don't you. Or d'you have it buried so deep you don't even remember what you're buryin' anymore?"

"Stop talking nonsense and give me the papers!" Spy growled, making another swipe for them.

This time, Sniper let him snatch the papers, and leaned back. "...You really don't know, do you?"

Quickly he folded the papers and shoved them into his inner coat pocket before they could be grabbed away again. "What?"

Sniper went quiet for a long moment, before shrugging and turning away. "Nothing. Guess maybe you'll have to dig it up on your own."

Spy glared after him, but he was already heading away. He wasn't going to be digging anything, thank you—not in his suit, anyway. Instinctively he dusted off his sleeve again and hurried back up to his room, where he hopefully wouldn't be bothered any further.

Once safely in his room, Spy whipped the papers out of his pocket, unfolded them, and sat at his desk to read them over. For a moment he was confused at Soldier's papers being at the top before he recalled he'd asked for three of the mercs' medical records to avoid suspicion. He set the pages aside, and his eyes brightened at seeing the Pyro's class logo printed on one of the pages. He'd read this one before, when he'd first sneaked into Medic's lab, but now he had free access to all the information he needed. Setting aside the first page, he looked at the second.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the large text, reading:

DO NOT attempt to clean skin!!

Brows furrowed, he skimmed some of the writing after that, but there was no further information written on this point. Of course, he should have expected that—these were mainly for the Medic's reference, after all. Still, the other notes might prove useful. There was a recent date written, followed by more information:

Patient has submitted to a partial physical! Can be bribed with candy.

However, patient strongly resisted blood pressure and thyroid tests, likely due to recent trauma/shellshock. (Will try again later.)

"Goggles" seem to be a form of eyelid. Dense transparent lenses protect eyes beneath. Seems to be incapable of blinking.

Spy paused for a moment, and shuddered.

Heart rate elevated, though may or may not be due to anxiety. Normal heart rate unknown. More examination is necessary!

The notes on that page ended there, and Spy nearly crumpled them in frustration. Instead, he read them over again, his eyes drawn to the larger text once more. The previous page had noted the layer of soot coating Pyro's body, which Spy had witnessed himself. Could the soot be a protective layer? Or, perhaps, attempting to wash Pyro's skin resulted in injuring whatever poor sap attempted it. It did have a higher body temperature than normal—warm enough to burn someone, perhaps?

There was something there, he was sure. But what, he didn't know.

Sighing, he set the page aside, only to realize there was more beneath it.

Name: Jeremy—

Spy knocked a vial of ink over the papers, by complete accident and nothing more.

Some time later, he exited his room, and nearly bumped into the Pyro. Before he could stop himself, he held out the crumpled, ink-stained papers. "Here," he said. "Take these and burn them."

Pyro perked up and took the papers, but stared back at Spy, tilting its head.

Spy snorted. "How often does anyone give you kindling?"

Pyro stared at him a moment longer before turning back into its room, fishing its lighter out as it went. Spy watched it go, until it shut the door behind itself. With another sigh, he made his way down the stairs, only to stomp his foot on one of the steps.

That was his lighter!

[americas-ass-writing]

Invisible

Steve Rogers x avenger!reader (-ish)

Words: 2.2k

Summary: The newest member of the avengers feels invisible. A shitty mission and social media brings her to her breaking point. See what happens when she confronts the team.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death (briefly)

A/N: not me dipping for like two years and returning. Sorry it took me so long, I'll try to write more often now. Hope you enjoy this little one shot that was caused by me feeling invisible.

Another mission successfully completed. It's your fifth mission as an Avenger and you couldn't be happier that it's over.

Two weeks, two exhausting weeks with Hydra finding their single brain cell and not being predictable this time. But it's over now, you can return home to the tower and spend time with... no one.

The Avengers were nice, they really were. Welcoming you with open arms, always striking up conversation when you were around but you couldn't miss that no one ever asked you to spend time with them besides the team activities. They didn't mean it, you're sure of that but you can't stop the pang in your heart when Wanda and Nat make shopping plans right in front of you and don't invite you. Or when Steve and Bucky plan a little day trip and think of inviting Sam to come along but not you who was sitting right next to him on the couch.

More than once the delivery person forgot your food. Steve was always nice enough to share one of his three portions with you but not even the delivery person struck you as important enough to remember your order.

You find yourself in the hallway after the debrief. Everyone was tired, exhausted and done. Your eyes flicker over the little friend groups building to walk back to the common area together. Clint who has been shot hanging off Natasha's shoulder, laughing at something she said. Sam and Bucky bickering with Steve walking between them like an over exhausted dad. Tony and Bruce talking big ideas to improve suits, weapons and the team. Wanda and Vision lost in each other, holding hands. And then there was you. Standing in the hallway, surrounded by people, watching and still feeling utterly alone. Agents flutter around you, not even giving you a glance. Sometimes you just feel so invisible... So unimportant. Like you shouldn't even be a member of this team.

Tired feet carry you to your room, you take the route that's longer but it avoids the common area. Your heart can only take so much. And all you need right now is a hot shower, your bed and mindless scrolling through social media. You're not even in the mood to eat lunch. At least not in the common room. The stash of protein bars under your bed will have to do.

So you take a long warm shower, letting the water run over your body while Taylor Swift's voice fills the room alongside the humidity that lets the mirror fog. You dry yourself, slip into comfy pyjamas and soon enough your head meets your pillow. You breathe in the scent of home and crawl under the comforter. Finally your hand reaches for your phone. You've been gone for a while, you probably missed some things. Your phone starts up slowly and some notifications come through. You have missed emails -most of them newsletters-, a few notifications of Instagram -celebrities and acquaintances posting things- and no one reaching out to you personally. Your eyes fall shut for a moment as your heart breaks a little more. You really thought you're a decent human being... Why did no one like you? Why did no one think of you?

Your thumb hovers over the Instagram icon, trying to decide if you should open the app. With a sigh you open it, a little mindless scrolling could do no harm. Right?

Wrong. Somehow you land on the official avengers account. Your eyes scanning the pictures. There has been one new post while you were gone - a picture of the team minus you. Wasn't your portrait supposed to be posted to announce you as a new member? Maybe they had to push it back... Or maybe they didn't want you on the account. Would explain why you're the one who's cropped out of the group picture. The caption mentions something about the team answering questions soon and telling people to comment what they always wanted to know. You know that Instagram comment sections are a different kind of world. One that can be really positive or just down right toxic. Yet you still click into it, curious what questions you'd find.

Some of them ask for Natasha's makeup routine, a lot ask for Steve to finally post a shirtless picture on his account, some ask why Bucky always looks so grumpy. There's genuinely nice questions asking for self defense tips or if they can come to schools to visit kids. And then there's the comments that are just plain rude, insulting about any member of the team. And then there's this one...

Cropped the new girl out already huh? Knew that ugly incompetent chick wasn't made for this team. Good riddance.

No matter how hard you tried you couldn't tear your eyes off it. Your pupils scan over the words again and again and again. Till hot tears spilled. Till you completely lost it as an ugly sob tore through you. You weren't good enough for this team, for your family, for your friends, for anyone or anything in this world. You were invisible and you always would be.

Logically you knew that keeping all of this in and being exhausted by the two week long mission was causing this break down. If you would have told someone you felt this way, things would be different. But your emotions got the better of you. Which is how you found yourself on a very determined march to the common area. Jammies on, your phone clutched in your hand, tears streaming down your hardened face. Your brain didn't even process your way here, you just suddenly found yourself in front of the avengers who were eating dinner - without you. You're met with some concerned faces but before anyone can say anything your words cut the thick air.

"I quit." You say, voice wobblier than you intended. The lump in your throat growing by the second. "What? Y/N what brought this on? I know the mission was hard but..." before a very concerned Steve could finish his sentence you cut him off. "This isn't about the fucking mission, Rogers." Your voice is full of venom. "This is about... You know what this is about this" you wave your hand around the room. Gazes turn to confusion. "And this!" You shove your phone into Steve's face, the group picture you've been cropped out of on the display.

"A picture of us? I don't... Understand..." Steve breaks the silence after a moment. "A picture of you. You guys and oh would you look at that... A little bit of my sleeve over there." You point out. "I've been cropped out." You explain further.

"Alright firecracker you know we're not responsible for the account. That's the social teams doing." Tony jumps in. "Yeah. Yeah you're right. You know what's your doing though?" You say as you retract your phone out of Steve's face. You slide it in your pocket and take a steadying breath. "Not inviting me to join activities, not telling the fucking delivery guy that maybe, just maybe there's a new member on the team after he forgot my food for the third fucking time in a row. Skipping my turn to pick a god damn movie because you all forgot to tell me you're doing an improv movie night. Walking back from a debrief in your little groups, none of you even thinking of just waiting a second so I can at least walk with someone. Oh and this. You're having dinner, the team, and who wasn't here until she stormed in? Me." You didn't realise that your voice got louder, the frustration got the better of you. "And it's not just this. No one thinks I belong here. No one in the comments of that post, not the press... Hell, even Friday still calls me recruit. If you don't want a new member on the team just say so. I'll leave. You'll never see me again. I'll turn invisible like I always feel... Like I am." you add quietly now, not even sure if anyone but you heard it. The lump in your throat is impossibly thick and finally it completed its mission and tore another sob from you. It hurts. It hurts to not belong. It hurts to be invisible. There's a short silence before the scraping of a chair on the floor fills the air. Mere seconds later you're wrapped up in strong arms, pulling you into a much needed hug. A large hand rubs your back.

"This is... We don't want you to leave. We... I never noticed we did that... You're just... It has been so long since we added a new member... This is a bullshit excuse I know. I'm sorry." Steve mumbles into your hair. His warmth seeps into your body as your tears wet his shirt. "Why didn't you tell us earlier? You know you can always come to me to talk" he adds softly after a moment. You let out a shaky breath. And another... And another, trying to find your voice after this pathetic performance. "I..." you croak out and immediately stop. Steve's hand rubs up and down your back.

"I felt the same way." The voice of Wanda pulls your face out of Steve's chest, your watery eyes finding hers. "I joined the team after my brother died. I've always been with him. I never felt alone but... Then I did. And believe me they don't do it on purpose. They have their little groups inside of this big one and they don't immediately think about including someone new. I'm sorry that I didn't think about it." She says softly. "I always felt alone in the beginning, I never got invited to go places, the press tore me apart because this random European with weird powers was suddenly a member of the earth's mightiest heroes, the social team didn't post my introduction portrait... I also wanted to quit but... then they organised a dinner with Paprikash... They made it for me because they thought I was homesick... and I realised that they do care about me. And I promise you, we do care about you. Steve made sure to tell the restaurant twice to not forget your order today." She points to the unopened container. "And when Nat wanted to get you for dinner she heard that you were showering and then we assumed you just needed some time for yourself."

Your eyes wander over the concerned faces of the team, then back to Wanda, then to the container of food, then finally to Steve. "You told them to remember my food?" You whisper. He nods immediately.

"Not because I don't like to share mine! Because I thought you'd like yours more and it happened three times already and I..." He gets cut off as you hug him back with a bit too much force. "Thank you" you whisper before you let him go and look at the team. "I'm sorry for the outburst... I... should have said something earlier but I… I felt so invisible and it's not like many people care about me in general and then I read some comments under the post and I... My brain shut off." You look down at your bare feet, not brave enough to face any of them.

"Friday? Please call Y/N firecracker from now on." Tony was the first to speak and as you looked at him in surprise he just gave you a smirk before going back to his food. Other team members give you smiles, small nods, Clint even signs that it's all good to you.

Steve's warm hand finds the small of your back and leads you to the table, to your unassigned spot right next to him. Both of you sit down and you open your food, your heart fills as you see your order. Low chatter fills the room as you eat. Wanda invites you to go shopping the next day, Sam invites you to mario kart after dinner. You feel stupid, oh so stupid. You should have just said something earlier. This all could have been avoided.

"I know why your portrait didn't get posted yet." You frown as you look at Bucky who simply smiles. "Stevie here…" his hand falls on the shoulder of his friend. Steve's eyes fill with dread, his ears turn pink. "...knows that you weren't happy with it. So he told the social team to hold off posting it until he can sketch a new portrait of you." His lips are parted in a shit eating grin. Steve is blushing madly, trying to hide it by staring at the tabletop. His fists clenching.

"You... Want to draw a portrait of me?" You ask softly, looking at the blonde next to you. After a few seconds he simply nods, his eyes still fixed on the table. "Because I didn't like the one the photographer took?" your lips pull into a small smile as he gives you another nod. "Why would you do that?" you ask softly.

"Because he has a big fat..." Bucky starts but is quickly interrupted by a death glare of his blonde friend. The former assassin gets out of his seat and proceeds to put some distance between the two super soldiers, Steve's eyes follow him with the same warning glance.

"...crush on you." Bucky finishes and immediately takes off running. Steve's chair falls to the floor as he jumps up to run after him. Your eyes follow the two of them, Bucky's snickers and Steve's curses filling the air.

Maybe... Just maybe you weren't invisible after all.

And you knew you weren't when Steve found you later that night with the sketch of you in his hand and a confession on his lips.

[lucawrites11]

i feel like i may be the only person who is dying for lluc and élia hcs if you've got any (i fr love your jenni and alexia fic and reread it at least once a week)

no one ever asks me for them and they are SO FUN (the real madrid ones are still some of my favourite EVER headcanons and the jenni/alexia fic is one of my favourite ever fics)

élia and lluc both play football as kids, lluc drops out and doesn't enjoy it but occasionally plays like a sunday team as a young adult and teenager while élia rises through the ranks of barça and la masía in her mums' footsteps

the unfortunate side of them both playing football is that they have the worst football parents in the world. the heckling, the fighting with the ref, the fighting with other parents is terrible. most weeks lluc and élia walk off wishing the floor would open up and swallow them whole while jenni and alexia are still fighting with the idiot that missed two obvious yellow cards (he's sixteen and it's ia saturday job)

it's even worse for élia because sometimes there's sexism and then she's got three people (including her protective older brother) yelling at the jealous sexist man pissed that a girl is dribbling past his little boy that plays like he's never seen a football in his life (something jenni is very loudly being made known)

lluc is the most iconic though because the guy's like "girls can't play football" and lluc is like "yeah and how many balloon d'ors have you won? have you won a world cup, champions league, the olympics, the euros? you haven't? oh have you won something smaller then? the league? the cup? the supercopa? copa de catalunya? jesus not even that because my mums have won all of those so shut the fuck up!" (he's like eight)

the guy is like so quiet and shuffles away googling alexia and jenni and alexia is like "where did you learn to swear?"

and mapi gets a very angry phone call and a couple days later lluc gets a special delivery of sweets from an 'unknown' source

[somethingpersonarelated]

The Phantom Thieves as K-pop Songs (an analysis): Shujin Trio + Morgana

LONG POST AHEAD! There will be more parts! I'm also going to give them kpop groups at some point but that will be later! Using CCL for translation. SPOILER WARNING NOW FOR ALL POSTS :) lets goo

Joker/Ren/Akira: MVSK by Kep1er

Hear me out. Every single time I read the lyrics for this song I wonder if the lyricist was a persona fan. Okay. To the quote:

Are you sure? Are you serious? Maybe you’re living in a different time Are you happy? What are you up to? I’ll invite you to the world I’ve imagined

From a stylistic and a musical perspective I think the connections are pretty obvious (shoutout to the Brave Girls cover, I think it also fantastically fits with the Joker persona). The House fusion in this song just oozes style that I think Joker perfectly displays. I think this first verse is a simple allusion to his role as the leader. Joker is a person that attracts people to him, through his nature as a wildcard and his subtle charisma (that's what I like to think of it as). Joker reaches out to a variety of people throughout his journey, giving them hope, and the common thread between all of his confidants is the conviction they have.

Don’t try so hard to push yourself Into that tiny crack in the door With all the senses in the world stopped It’s not fake, It’s real In the mask colored by the world Show me the real you Babe The Persona hiding in that mirror

Shh I won't insert shuake into this part i promise but if you choose to read it that way I encourage it!!! I have another song that I think also encapsulates Akira, but I think this covers early-game pretty well. In his interactions with the thieves he's there to catch and support them. Key example: Ann, as he supports her to embrace her real self and let herself open up which leads to her Persona's awakening. I also think this describes a theme in the game as well, but Akira is the representation of the game's themes, which is fitting.

Ryuji/Skull: NalinA by BlockB

Okay LISTEN TO IT. TELL ME I'M WRONG. Quote time:

I’m the starting point of all envy and threat from guys I’m a real-time popular searched keyword bro

These lyrics are a lot more straightforward to connect to Ryuji. A constant sticking point for him throughout all versions of Persona 5 is how he just for the life of him cannot shut up about being a Phantom Thief. It's a point of pride for him both that they are acting as the Phantom Thieves for the sake of justice but also that they're popular. Out of all the thieves, Ryuji is probably the most concerned with their popularity. Of course, he learns as a part of his character arc that this isn't the most important part, but he can't help it when they're mentioned in public to make a comment about it.

I bet you’re dying^ – follow me baby – Because everything about me is perfect (gugugaga gugugaga) Just look at me lady, don’t you wanna go crazy? Anywhere I go there are shouts Coming out from people’s mouths

He's also one of the most energetic (and I think one of the hearts) of the PTs. If there's one person you can expect to rally the PTs, it will be Ryuji. His iconic moment in Strikers where he finally gets to curse makes me think of this song. He knows that he's brash but he knows that is the most important trait he brings to the team.

From a musical standpoint, the song is unapologetically loud and taunting in its delivery. Just like him. It's a song I can imagine him listening to regularly, which was one of the most important criteria for making the list.

Ann/Panther: ANTIFRAGILE by LE SSERAFIM

While I feel like softer pop also fits Ann very well, if the dancing games are any indicator, this style also fits her. This song is a description of her ambitions through some interesting imagery:

Walk like a majestic lion Eyes glinting with so much desire Pour more out, gasoline on fire Fly again, rising through the flames

No, I just love the way this describes how she rose through the obstacles that the first arc of the story presented. How she chooses to be strong and to make that choice each day because her promises to Shiho and herself are stronger than one moment of weakness or doubt.

Don’t underestimate the path I’ve walked I go to ride till I die die

Adding this line to apply to those last couple sentences. I just think it's raw and it reminds me of her strong conviction during the first arc.

“Lovey lovey lovey dovey dovey dovey” Defining me however you’d like

Fervent attention, welcome Cute jealousy, go ahead Stringed puppets, no thanks With my song I’ll build my future Yes gimme that

The way these verses are delivered have been a point of contention for many in the kpop community, but in the context of this, we do not care. I think that if Ann sang this song, she would do it the same way and I would be proud of her. Ann has always had to fight against how other have perceived her, whether it was Kamoshida (fervent attention), Mika (cute jealousy), or the general public/classmates (stringed puppets). She wants her heart to grow stronger so she doesn't crack under the pressure, so she can always be there for those she loves.

Morgana: Very Nice by Seventeen

Okay I had to put this one in for the sillies: JK okay but in terms of vibes yes but there's not anything I can substantially analyze here.

The actual answer: Fighting BY BSS

While keeping a similar silly vibe in its genre, this has much more to analyze (not that much but let's pretend):

In the stories (Why do all my friends) Look so cool there (Why me me, only me) Why why why why am I still struggling, why? Why am I getting pushed around? (i-gu i-gu i-gu i-gu)

Morgana makes it clear that the main insecurity he struggles with is being unsure if he is a human. He also struggles to remember why he is with the Thieves in the first place. Not only does he physically feel smaller than the others, but because he feels that without his memories it feels that his goal is unclear, without ambition.

Stretch out my back, my arms and my legs Ooh I feel like I’m seventeen If I live with unhappiness That’s never worth a penny Then I’m just wasting my time, man

Honestly I think that this is just fun! The first line I picked to include just because he's a cat. At the end of the day, Morgana tries his best to be an optimist. Akira struggles without Morgana to assist him throughout the day, and the main theme of this song is learning to come to terms with a life that may be difficult to manage day to day. They're at their best when they can help each other, because Akira gives Morgana purpose.

I had way too much fun writing this, and I hope you got some music recs or fun out of reading this. Thanks! (and stay tuned)

[mymanyfandomramblings]

Gleecap 5x04--A Katy Or A Gaga

(and yes, I skipped reviewing The Quarterback for reasons that I believe are thoroughly obvious)

I like the sheer ridiculous mayhem in the choir room when Will walks in

NOOOOO! WHYYYYY GOD!--tina, you will always be iconic

So Throat Explosion is basically Vocal Adrenaline, but from Indiana. Good to know.

Sam geeking out at Penny is so funny and sweet to me

Sam is showing shades of Puck here in his rant at Blaine

Kitty has secret access to the fourth wall, I am forced to suspect

Becky Jackson, you will always be iconic to me

I love that "I would not be embarrassed to share the stage with you" is Santana's way of saying 'that was incredible'

Come on, Kurt, don't be the worst

Bree is scheming--unsurprising.

I feel like the writers have upped Marley's wholesomeness to like, a million percent for this

Sam is every person who has ever tried to plan something with friends right now

Becky has no time for Sam's utter insanity

Yes, Rach! Give the pep talk!

I do appreciate that Jake is trying to go along with Marley, and isn't trying to fight her on this or anything. He's a sweetheart.

Bree--I hate you. Well, it's nice to see that Jake and Marley trust each other. We'll see how that goes.

Sam's video is deeply bizarre

I love him defending his edginess

The Gagas need to tone it down--although the giant plastic bags of amniotic fluid idea is quite funny

Kitty's Bree impersonation is both hilarious and accurate

Unique's rant is amazing! I love Unique

Sam's voice sounded incredible in Applause.

Now listen, I don't think Marley should have had to wear a bikini, but she could have gone with some Gaga outfit that was less revealing but fit the aesthetic better

The Gagas are so dramatic, their arguments are hilarious

"I tried breakin' into the zoo! Turns out Lima doesn't have a zoo!"

Kitty's face in this scene is amazing

Jake licking his hand and using it to fix his hair is nothing if not hilarious. COMMIT TO THE BIT

Yes, Kurt, have a change of heart!

I feel like Sam is just changing to be whoever he needs to be to make relationships work

The Gagas actually sound really good singing together

Marley has THEE cutest smile known to mankind

Jake--stop it. I like you, but you need to shut up now

JAKE. NO.

So, Rachel is now joining the band. Which now has a name

I love them all lounging around in the choir room in their weird outfits. It's bringing back Theatricality vibes

'hellow glee club' I love how Sue said that

'yet again. it is brung.' Jane Lynch's delivery really went OFF this episode

Alright, the Roar performance is officially the weirdest thing they've done.

Dani's vocals are incredible!!

Also, if they couldn't find anyone to audition, where did the bassist, drummer and keyboardist come from?

[reubyocs]

V watches Stanley closely, waiting to see if the glasses translate his signing for him, or if he has to wait for Avon to speak.

"He'd like to be called 427." Avon translates, repeating in sign just for Stanley. He finds it quite fascinating that people have learned to develop languages influenced by hand gestures. V and LJT nod in approval, they both like simple codenames. Doomsday however, doesn't even respond. He doesn't believe it's a very interesting codename.

V is already ripping his tie off as he watches 427 sign a question for him. It takes Avon a moment, before speaking up once again.

"Where can he get changed?" Avon asks for Stanley.

"Oh, uh." V speaks as he looks around the basement. "There's the closet that's next to Avon. Just be careful though! There's a lot of stuff in there and I don't want you to get hurt in case stuff falls on you." V flashes a smile as he continues to unbutton his shirt, pulling it out his trousers. He's ignoring the protests of LJT, who does not want him getting undressed so openly.

It only takes a few minutes, and a lot of impatient groaning from LJT, but Doomsday has the maps of the Casino laid out on the table, with lines drawn all over it. There's a few weapons laying on the table in front of V, who's checking them out as he waits for 427. Beside these weapons, are two duffle bags- one for V, another for 427. There's a vault laser in 427's bag, along with a stun gun. V is all dressed in his favourite hooded coat, leather trousers, leather gloves and boots. Underneath his coat, is a matching black body armour. Around his neck, is another matching black gaiter mask, ready to help conceal his iconic curly moustache.

"Right, welcome back 427." LJT speaks as he hops over to the next seat, moving himself closer to the maps. "Let's run through this plan." Everyone, including the hacker, gunman and vehicle decoy gather around to listen. LJT points at the ground floor.

"You'll be entering through the Staff Lobby." LJT points to the right side of the map. "You'll use your keycards to get in, and then once you make it in, you'll have to take out the metal detectors in the doorway. You can either switch them off completely by cracking open the panel on the side of them, or you can overload them with a stun gun."

"The same goes for cameras." LJT points at the red areas on the map. "You can take them out temporarily with the stun gun, but don't do too many at once, because they'll then know something's up even if they haven't seen you."

"You'll need to make your way down the stairs and into B3." LJT then hops to the next chair over, pointing at the new map.

"As you can tell, their security ramps up here. So you need to be careful."

"Simply make it across the room and to the entrance for the Mantrap. Here, you'll both need to scan your keycards at the same time." LJT points at the crosses on the map. "Too many failed attempts to get it right, and the alarms will go off. So you both need to communicate well for this."

"When you get to the Vault, you'll get to use your vault lasers to break the locks. Then, once the vault is open. You'll have three and a half minutes to grab as many goods as you can before the automatic security activates the nerve agent. Some things will be behind locked doors, but V can handle those." V nods, smiling as he puts his thumbs up.

"Exiting the vault and casino is very simple. You'll go exactly the same way you came in- only, it'll be pitch black. V has an EMP device which will shut down all the lights and power to to the security cameras in the building. He'll activate it as you both exit the mantrap. Permitted you both avoid the staff and successfully make it out of the staff lobby again. You'll be outside and ready to make it to your getaway cars."

"The rest is simple! Drive to meet the buyer, and deliver the goods. Do NOT bring the cops with you to the delivery. Once that's done, you both go your separate ways and then we'll all need to lay low for a few weeks to let the heat settle. The payment will get sent to my proxy account, and then distributed to both of you in small payments."

"Does that sound all good?" Doomsday asks, watching 427's reaction. "You won't have to sign much, I think V will lead the way." V nods in acknowledgement as he grabs the silenced pistol and stun gun off the table. With swift movements, he throws the duffle bag over his shoulder, slipping his two weapons into the bag.

"Well, if you're ready to go 427- then we'll get going!" V speaks excitedly, gesturing to the car that's parked at the back of the basement.

Stanley registers their cluelessness and grimaces. Is he going to have to let the cat out of the bag here? He opens his mouth to rip off that bandage but then Avon saves him from the need.

Once Avon provides the translation for the rest of them, Stanley beams and gives a thumbs up to him. Thank goodness at least one of them can interpret his signing, although he has a feeling that he's going to actually need to use his voice by the end of this. Although... maybe there isn't much of a point in keeping quiet anyway. It's not like the Narrator is around to hear him. Right?

Whatevs. Stanley is a creature of habit and this is his habit, so he maintains his silent heading.

Now that the question of whether or not he'll get a pocket knife has been answered the next question he has, which he asks himself internally, is... will he actually be able to use it, if and when the time comes? He's never really killed anybody before. But- this is just a game, right? An ending? Anybody who dies will respawn like he does and all will be right as rain again.

Well. He'll make sure that no stabs are fatal. Just in case.

Stanley shrugs when they ask him what codename he wants to use. He doesn't particularly care, but seeing as LJT is asking him, he goes ahead and signs, "427." Sure, it's his employee number, and in any other universe it might be too close to home to use as a codename in a heist, but he figures here it really doesn't matter. His office either exists or it doesn't, in either case the result is the same.

He goes over to the armor that's been dropped onto the table and just stands there, looking down at it. He's supposed to get changed into it. Okay. Where? Here? He looks back up and looks around, looking for some kind of indication as to where he's supposed to get changed. Stanley is so used to being told what to do, down to every stroke on his keyboard, sometimes it's little decisions such as this that hang him up.

Hopefully that doesn't become an issue in the heat of the heist.

...He really doesn't want to appear like an idiot by just stripping down right here, so he looks back to V. "Where do I get changed?"

Once he's changed, Stanley is ready to go. He will follow whatever he is told to do.

[tu-linda-hermana]

Got Anything Else Good to Say?

Pairing with Camilo Madrigal x reader and very much platonic with Dolores!

Read more of my Camilo Madrigal fictions in this masterlist.

Being Camilo's novia gives you the benefit of being close to his family, especially to his hermana and hermanito. You would play with Antonio and his animal friends at some times while you have tea and gossips with Dolores, you would even share your interests and hobbies with Dolores like knitting, baking and sewing, while Dolores had fun also sharing her hobbies with you treating you like her younger sister, one of her hobbies are candle making, walking away from the town and playing some instruments, speaking of instruments, you had learn how to play piano from all the time you've spent in the la casa Madrigal.

You would make up some lyrics and songs with Dolores and would share it to others, playing it after dinner, or in just casually, or maybe when everyone is gathered up together on no chores day and so on.

Also being with Dolores, you became a lot more aware of everything and everyone, including your amor, Camilo, your light and sunshine, tu sol. You would know when he's happy as a lark or the opposite of that, and you would always be there for him to support and love him every time, at first times Dolores would tell you about Camilo's situations but as time pass by she didn't need to tell or warn you about Camilo's conditions anymore, you would be there whenever you sensed that something wasn't right and if something is or was very nice.

Dolores had thanked you a plenty of times already for taking care of his hermano, she really did appreciate you, she was like an older sister you could never have, besides she would already call you her cuñada at times so where's the difference in that?

At this moment, you were with Dolores in her room making candles and carving on them with different styles that'll suit each member of the familia, her door was open so it wouldn't get too hot inside. You got used in the hot wax accidentally touching your skin, but at times it still suprises you whenever it did. Mostly Dolores would make the candles and you would carve them by copying their daily designs that's with them all the time. You would say that Isabela's and Antonio's designs were the hardest for you, you were carving Camilo's candle right now with his iconic chameleon patterns while Dolores designs yours.

"And there was this time where it was Día de las Velitas (Day of the little candles) when mami got really sad and emotional as it was also the time when abuela met abuelo Pedro, and with mama's clouds she blew out all the candles around the place" Dolores laughed sharing a memory when she was eight. You laughed along with her, imagining how the scene unfolds.

"Oh! I heared about something about Señora Felicia a while ago" you whispered leaning closer to her.

"Oh! Is that about the delivery man?" Dolores whispered back, it was normal for the both of you to whisper when you two were talking about the tea's and gossips in town. You eagerly nodded and asked, "Yes! Do you know anything about them?"

"Yeah! Señor Alf-" Dolores paused and tilted her ears out and slowly looked back at you with worried eyes, your eyes and body dropped down, "Where is he?" you asked the older lady infront of you.

Just then, Camilo walked passed Dolores' room with his head down and his hands on his pockets, his curls were covering his features but you swore you noticed that he was sobbing just now. You locked eyes with Dolores as if you two were having a telepathic conversation. Camilo slammed his door shut making you and Dolores flinched a little.

"I'll give him time. Let's just finish this for now and I'll go to him" you told Dolores as both of you got back to work.

Minutes passed as you both finished the candles, packing and giving them to the respective owners. Dolores had went out to deliver yours in your house while you went to Camilo. You were hearing sobbing noises from the outside before knocking on his door, "Cariño?"

You slowly opened the door and heared a recorded audio of the piano playing in his recorder, he was in his bed, curled up to himself, hugging his knees close to him, Camilo was silent when you went in. You lit up one of the candles that you made and designed for him, you sensed that he stopped crying when you went in the room, even though how long you and Camilo have been together, he still feels bad when you see him feeling sad or when he's on his low, which you don't quite understand since you love him either way and would be always by his side.

I just don't want to be a burden to you, Soy tu sol, I can't be feeling like this, especially with you seeing me like this.

You stopped the recorded piano and sat down infront of the piano near his bed, placing the lit candle up in the piano, Camilo had always have a piano in his room ever since you learned how to, it was your bonding together when you two were alone.

You started pressing the keys, finding the tune you like, took you a little while since it has been a long time since you played, getting caught up with other things, activities and chores. When you finally got your tune, you started playing.

"Sit in your room

Staying in the dark

The music is up and so is your guard

You don't know what to say

You're faking a smile say that you're fine

And maybe it'll all work out in time

You've always been good that way

Feel like you've done this before

You're fighting your tears as I open the door-"

Your voice broke up with the lyrics you sang, you glanced back at Camilo, you accidentally revealed your notice on him with your made up on spot lyrics, he was sat up on his back against his headboard as he was listening to you sing, you singing to him was one of his favorite things to do and to listen when he's not at his best, but your lyrics caught him up.

"What an entrance mi vida-" Camilo agitated and a hint of cackle was heard, "-Got anything else good to say?" he asked, looking at you emotionless.

"You know you didn't have to do that, You're making things worse--- I know I'm dramatic but, heh" Camilo joked, you tensed up from his first lines but calmed a bit when you noticed that he was joking about it.

"I'm kidding, nice lyrics by the way" Camilo complimented you as he gestured you to join him in the bed.

"Are you okay?" You asked while being wrapped in his warm and sad arms.

"I- um" Camilo thought about your lyrics from just a while, he sighed down and brushed his fingers through your hair, "No, not really"

"What happened? Is there anything I could do? To help you?" You asked sincerely, looking up to meeting his beaming eyes.

"I really don't know how to explain it mi vida, I-I I can't put it into words, let's just not talk about it" he kissed your forehead before snuggling his face on your head, "I just want you here, stay with me for a while mi vida, that's all enough for me from you" he told you as you both cuddled up and admired the lit up burning candle before closing their eyes, letting your need to rest take over you two.

"Te quiero cariño" you whispered, melting in his touch as you faced him.

"Te quiero mucho mi vida" Camilo planted a kiss on your head and finally resting with you in his arms.

Just a little note, Camilo didn't really have a good day and was just really tired and wanted to rest with his mi vida. (You know when you're drained and tired, you just wanna lay down and cry rest, the only difference is that Camilo has someone and I don't😢 lmao)

Hehe, half of this is just the readers bonding with Dolores, I mean who doesn't like spending time with your novio's hermana? I was maybe gonna make this angsty but decided to be against it today, I needed comfort today. I actually don't know what this is. And thanks for reading! Do correct me for any mistakes and do tell me what you think of this! Once again thank you and have a beautiful week! /j

Hehe the title sounds/looks angsty😅😁

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Fourteen. There's No Way.

word count: 5k (not including pictures) warnings: swearing

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

a/n: yeeeeee very excited about this chapter!! we're getting so close to some good stuff!!!! hope you like it!!! (also, if you understand the reference to bug’s second tweet about mr clean, you’re a real one) 

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Y/n laughed as she tucked her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top as she stared at her computer monitor. "Yeah, okay, Gogy."

Quackity's laugh sounded through her headphones, cackling loudly and gasping for air as George defended himself in their voice channel. None of them were streaming, which allowed them to tease each other relentlessly without worrying about leaking real things. Currently, the target of the teasing was Y/n. Her guilty crime: Dream’s nickname for her. "She got his ass!"

"Oh shut up, Big Q," Y/n quickly spat back. "At least neither of us has a nickname that lies about our size. Short boy."

Quackity stopped laughing and pulled out his defensive card. "Okay, that's literally not funny. That's messed up of you to say, actually."

"Waaah," Y/n mocked.

"Okay, Bugsy, but no one seriously calls me Gogy, it's just as a joke," George defended himself. "I was only saying that I think it's cute how Dream calls you Bug!"

"Shut up," she mumbled with embarrassment. She loved the nickname and especially how everyone seemed to agree it was reserved for him. She wondered if he noticed that too, how everyone else, including most fans, called her Bugsy, leaving Dream as the only online friend who used the nickname.

"She's embarrassed," Quackity giggled. "Awww. Is the Buggy Wuggy embarrassed of having a crush?"

“I don’t have a crush,” she lied convincingly. 

“You better not. The title of your affection deservingly goes to me,” he said proudly, as if there was any shred of truth in his words.

“Get over yourself, Quackity,” George laughed, “before Dream tells you off again about being too short for Bugsy.”

“HEY!”

"I'm back," Sapnap announced as he unmuted in Discord. "What did I miss?"

"They're still bullying me," Y/n exaggerated.

“No, they’re bullying me!” Quackity scoffed.

“Sapnap, make them stop,” Y/n begged playfully. Usually Sapnap was on her side.

"It’s for a good reason though," Sapnap teased. "I mean, we'll stop bullying you if you admit to liking him," he lowered his voice slightly, probably since he lived in the same house as the man they were talking about.

Y/n smiled to herself and hid it behind her hoodie sleeve as if they could see her anyway. She kinda liked that she hadn't told Quackity or Sapnap about her official crush, enjoying having a secret like that. Well, a secret that George, Karl, and Naomi knew too.

"Then I guess I'll be bullied until the day that I die," she sighed. She swore she heard George cover a laugh with a cough and she sent his icon a death glare. He seemed to enjoy knowing her secret a little too much. 

"Is anyone going to actually stream today?" Sapnap asked. "I wanna do something."

"I'm thinking about doing Jackbox later," Quackity admitted. "Do you guys wanna join if I do?"

"Yes! Please," Sapnap whined. "I'm so bored."

"Sure, I'll play. Karl is spending the night so I can make him play too."

"Sleepover?" George asked. " Can I come?"

"Hm, no."

"That's messed up!"

"Can you join, George?" Quackity asked. "I need you in my title."

George hummed contemplatively and his voice turned mischievous, if only for a moment. "Yeah, if you get Dream to play."

Yeah, he definitely enjoyed knowing her secret too much.

"Right, you only play when your boyfriend plays too," Quackity groaned. "Cancel Dreamnotfound, I believe in Dreamsy supremacy."

"Says the man who asks me to marry him every day," Y/n scoffed.

"Actually, you're right! Bugity supremacy," he said.

"I swear it's become more frequent since I said you could flirt with me online again."

"It has, I'm making up for lost time."

Y/n rolled her eyes and Sapnap laughed. "I'll get Dream to play," Sapnap offered.

"So you'll play, George? I need you to commit," Quackity said.

"Yeah, why not," George agreed before adding with a giggle, "I wanna see Dream try to flirt with Bugsy."

"I hate you all,” specifically you, George, she thought. “I'm not playing anymore."

"NO, YOU ALREADY SAID YOU WOULD!" Quackity shouted.

"FINE," she groaned, a small laugh escaping her lips and completely exposing that she wasn't actually mad. "Speaking of Karl sleeping over, he's coming over in a bit so I'm gonna get off."

"Booo," Sapnap protested lightly. "Have fun with Karl."

"Let me know if he's going to play Jackbox with us. He better," Quackity threatened with no real substance.

"I'll make him," Y/n promised. "Bye guys!"

"Bye!" George and Sapnap shouted together before she disconnected the call.

Y/n stood up from her desk, stretching softly before looking around her room. She had a laundry basket in the corner, overflowing with clean, and now probably wrinkled, clothes waiting to be folded. She decided to use her time to clean up before Karl got there, even though they were probably going to sleep on the couches if at all.

She dumped the clean clothes onto her bed, tossing the things that needed to be hung to the side and neatly folded the rest. When she put her hoodies and sweaters on hangers, she noticed how much of her friends' merch she had. She had two GeorgeNotFound hoodies, a Sapnap shirt and hoodie, and even a Quackity hoodie. Karl didn't have any merch, but she did have a few of his personal hoodies that she had stolen from him over time and considered those her own exclusive merch, even though some of them had the Mr. Beast logo on them. She decided she needed Dream's merch.

For some unknown reason, perhaps it was because of how much she liked him, her face grew warm at the thought of wearing a Dream hoodie, even though it wouldn't have belonged to him. The idea made her nervous, like that would somehow give away that she had a crush on him if she bought some of his merch, even though she bought some of her friends' and even had Karl's actual hoodies. Despite the reasons that that was stupid of her to think, her brain said owning one Dream hoodie would be a dead giveaway of her crush, so she put off buying any. In reality, he'd probably laugh in his cute way when he heard that she bought one, or maybe go "whAT!" in surprise and happiness.

She desperately wanted to tell him things like that, tell him how happy his laugh made her and how adorable he was, or how she got butterflies every time he talked about anything at all. Since she couldn’t just call him up and tell him she hated stopped thinking about him, she decided to do something bold and subtweeted him, even adding a picture of herself with her face covered, hoping he would know it was about him, but that no one else would. She turned off comments for good measure, in case the stans made assumptions. Now that she threw away the "no flirting" rule for all her friends, she could do things like this. Worst case scenario is he thinks it’s weird, she tells him it was only a joke, and they go on their merry ways. Her heart would be broken, but nevertheless her ego would be somewhat saved. Harmless. 

Nervously ― plagued with the thoughts of possible consequences of posting something so bold and, to her, so obvious — she made her way to the kitchen and got a glass of water. He would know it was about him, right? And that's what she wanted? It was so forward of her to say to the world, especially since she hadn't tagged him in it. Leaving it up to interpretation almost made it like she was trying to hide it from him, which wasn't the case or she wouldn't have hit, Tweet.

She waited for him to tweet something vague about her as a response, or maybe even text her, before realizing it had the potential to make him uncomfortable. Maybe he would pretend to not see it so he didn't embarrass her, or didn't even know it was about him. Or maybe he's asleep and hasn't been on his phone. She looked at her clock. Dream asleep at 3:30pm? Unlikely.

As Y/n fell on her bed, contemplating whether she should delete the post and pretend like it never happened, she felt her phone vibrate and quickly swiped the screen to read it.

Y/n had to literally set her phone down to scream into her pillow. He was killing her. Stabbing her in the heart and twisting the knife with his sweet compliments and smooth delivery. He had to know what he was doing, the way he was talking to her like that. No one said "prove it" in that context without having something more behind it.

Why couldn't he just like her? Why did he have to be so nice and flirty towards all his friends? Why couldn’t she be the exception?

She picked her phone back up and left the messaging app, finding her camera roll and swiping through it in search for something to catch her eye. Food pic, meme, Karl���s cat, meme, picture of Naomi nearly falling off a sidewalk... where were her pictures of her face? Did she really not have any of herself? The seemingly endless scrolling stopped when she found one from when she first moved into the apartment. Naomi had taken pictures of every room to show her parents and asked Y/n if she could show her parents the streamers room as well. Y/n cheerfully agreed, and actually wanted to be in the photo because she loved Naomi’s parents like they were her own, so she jumped on her bed and smiled for the picture.

It was cute, the comforter she sat on was messy and looked comfy, and she liked the way she was posed, cross-legged and beaming at the camera with her dying plant on the windowsill in the background and fairy lights around the room. It was also back when her room was clean and presentable. Y/n thought it was a good photo and even would have posted it if not for the whole her being a faceless streamer thing.

She held her breath, contemplating if she should just send the image to Dream. She wanted to, she really did. But that fear of how he perceived her still nagged in the back of her mind.

Y/n must have been mulling it over for a while because as she decided to not send it, Dream followed up on his last text, clearly worried that he was pressuring her. She wanted to change the subject as soon as possible before she changed her mind and face revealed to him.

Y/n took a deep breath at the thought of how close she was to sending that picture to Dream. It wasn't the first time she genuinely considered it, nor would it be the last, but that was the first time she actually looked through her camera roll for options. She so desperately wanted to. Wanted to show him what she looked like. Wanted to hear what he thought of her. Wanted to hear him say, "I like you, Bug" after finally seeing what she looked like. Wanted to let him know how much she trusted him by showing him her biggest fear. It would be so easy to just rip off the Band-Aid; only a few clicks and he could see her face. See her.

But then there was the possibility of none of her fantasies happening. What if she sent him a picture saying, "here is me!" and all he says is, "nice", not finding her pretty or ugly? What if he thought it was just like... seeing a picture of a friend. He and I are just friends, Y/n scolded herself. But him seeing her opened up the opportunity for him to like her.

It was scarier the longer she put it off, almost like the more she postponed it, the more she had to prove. If Dream knew what she looked like from the beginning, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But since she had waited so long to show him, she felt like she had to make it worth the wait.

Was she worth the wait?

Y/n's bedroom door swung open, ripping her out of her thoughts and letting her know that Karl had arrived. He smiled at her and she laughed in response.

"Hello, Karl. Ever heard of knocking?"

"Nope!" he responded as he set down a cupholder with three drinks on her nightstand. "How are you?"

"Good." Daydreaming out about Dream... again. "How are you?"

"I'm so excited!" He dropped his backpack on the floor and turned to her, pulling her off her bed and giving her a hug. "I've missed you!"

"You saw me, like, a couple of days ago," she laughed as she hugged him back.

"A couple of days too long," he sighed dramatically, rocking back and forth into the hug before Y/n lightly pulled away from him. "Where's Naomi?"

"Uh... in her room I'm guessing?"

"I'm going to go give this to her," he explained grabbing one of the drinks and walking out. "Don't miss me too much!"

Y/n laughed and shook her head, laying back down on her bed with her phone in hand. She reread some of the texts between her and Dream and couldn't help the large smile that plastered itself on her face.

When Karl came back in, he jumped on the bed, wrapping his arms around her stomach and snuggling into her side. "Hello."

She laughed but pushed him away slightly, trying to ignore the pout on his face at her actions. "Hi."

"Oh, happy December!"

"Already? Geesh."

"Yeah, only 27 days until the lake!!!!"

Nervous and excited butterflies festered in the pit of Y/n's stomach. "What drink did you get me?"

"Your faaavorite," he sang as he grabbed the drink letting her sit up and lean against the headboard before handing it to her.

"Thank you very much," she said as she took a sip. "Oh, hey, so Quackity wants to do a Jackbox stream tonight and I said you'd join."

Karl groaned and laid back on Y/n, careful not to knock her drink out of her hand. "Noooo...."

"You don't wanna play?" she asked genuinely, patting his hair lightly as his head rested on her legs.

"I just want to hang out with you. It's been so long since we had Karl and Y/n time."

She sighed. "I know, but it will be fun. We'll play for like an hour and a half and then we can hang out for the rest of the night and all day tomorrow until you have to go to Jimmy’s house," she bargained like she was talking a four-year-old into eating some vegetables.

"Hmph. Fine," Karl pouted. "Is Dream playing?"

She shrugged. "I think so?"

"That's why you want to play so bad."

"What? No! I agreed to play before Sapnap said he would ask him."

"Mmmhm. So that Tweet earlier wasn't about him?"

"The... Tweet?" she played dumb but her face warmed up.

"Or was it about me?" he joked. "Have you just been blown away ever since we met and you're still thinking about how cute I am?"

"Shut up," she lightly pushed Karl's head off her lap as her face grew hotter. "Am I wrong though?"

"I don't know!" he said as he sat up and looked at her. "I've never seen the man!!"

"Oh, really?" she asked. "I didn't want to post it because I didn't want people to think I was bragging about knowing what he looks like..." she sighed.

"Then why did you?"

"Because... I also really wanted him to see it," she said with a shy giggle.

Karl face lit up as he cackled at her. "Look at you, trying to flirt!! Let's gooo!!!"

Y/n buried her face in her sweatshirt collar and laughed.

"Oh my gosh? Y/n subtweeting and flirting at the same time?? What on Earth?"

"It only counts if it works."

"Did it?” Karl asked as he leaned back and played with his rings. “You turned off comments and I didn't see him subtweet you back."

"That's because he... texted me... instead."

"WHAT? What did he say?"

Y/n laughed. "He said I wasn't allowed to tweet something like that and then turn off comments so he can't tell everyone it was about him."

Karl cackled again. "HAHAH! So true though!"

"Whatever. I'm not telling you anything else about our conversation."

"Why, was it spicy?"

"No. But— this is weird to talk about!"

Karl frowned. "You don't have to tell me... I just think it's so cute. But if you ever do want to talk about how much you wuv Dweam, I'm all ears. Tell me everything."

Y/n rolled her eyes fondly. "Okay Kawl."

"What time is Quackity streaming?" Karl changed the subject, understanding that Y/n actually didn't want to talk about Dream.

"I don't know. Ask him. Also, tell him you're joining so he knows." She took another long sip from her drink as Karl pulled out his phone and texted Quackity.

Her fingers itched to make another Tweet about Dream and she finally succumbed, but decided to outright tease him instead of flirt, not hiding the identity of her target this time. Really, it was just an excuse for her to try to get his attention like she couldn't just text him and have it right away.

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"Sapnap!" Bugsy cheered as he joined the Discord, Quackity off talking to his chat while the others slowly joined. So far, the only people there were Sapnap, Bugsy, and Karl.

"Bugsy!" he called back with a giggle. "Hi! Is Karl coming?"

"I'm here, Sapnap!" Karl announced. "Bugsy and I are just using the same mic."

"Am I not good enough for you?" she teased Sapnap and he laughed.

"Well you're going to ignore me to talk to Dream once he gets here, so I need a backup so I'm not lonely."

Y/n rolled her eyes with a smile and Karl laughed.

"We can talk while they flirt," Karl promised.

"Both of you shut up," she scolded softly.

Pretty soon, the others joined. In the end, Quackity had convinced Bad, Punz, and Wilbur to play, as well as all the feral boys.

"You could only get nine people to play, Quackity?" George asked once Quackity unmuted. "Wow, you must not have friends."

"Hey! I have friends, George! I do."

"Then where's the tenth person, Big Q?" Wilbur countered.

"LOOK! It was last minute! Where's Drea– that man is always late, I swear to—"

"I'm here!" Dream said quickly, joining the voice channel. "I'm here! Hello, everyone. Hi, Bug."

Karl smacked his hand over his mouth to cover his laugh, which escaped anyway, as he nudged Y/n. She had immediately buried her face in her hands and Karl had to turn away from the mic so no one could hear him laugh at Dream's direct greeting.

She pinched Karl's side before greeting Dream. "Hi, Dream."

"Are you guys ready to play?" Quackity asked.

"Wait, no, we're going to have to have Gene! Can't you get anyone else?" Punz asked.

"Everyone I've asked has said no!" Quackity groaned. "I'm out of people. Deal with Gene."

Y/n and Karl looked at each other at the same time, thinking the same thing. Naomi had been talking about wanting to play Jackbox sometime but that she never has anyone to play with other than Karl and Y/n. She'd be meeting most of these people on vacation in a couple of weeks anyway, why not see if she wants to play?

"What about my roommate?" Y/n spoke up as Quackity sent the code to the Discord.

"Who?" he asked.

"You literally met her when you visited," Karl laughed. "Naomi."

"Oh, yeah! She's cool."

"Invite her to play," George said, making Dream laugh lightly and Y/n smile because they knew they had been talking a lot.

"Yeah, give me a second, don't start yet," Y/n said before sliding off her headphones and making her way to Naomi's room. Before Y/n could even knock, Naomi swung open her door quickly, phone open to the Twitch app in her hand.

"I heard everything," she rushed out, eyes wide and hopeful. "C-can I play?"

"Yeah, you want to?"

"PLEASE."

"There are currently 130,000 people watching, just so you know."

"That's fine, I'm cool under pressure." That was very true. Y/n wouldn’t have let Naomi join if she thought her friend couldn’t handle the attention. She thrived in it. "Should I come to your room?"

"Yeah, come on." Y/n led the way and pulled up a third chair to her desk. Karl offered to listen to the Discord on his phone so Naomi could use the second pair of headphones to listen to everyone. All three of them still used Y/n's mic, Karl muted on his phone. "Okay, kinda scuffed set up, but we're all here. Everyone, this is Naomi."

"Hello!" Naomi said happily. "Nice to meet you all!"

Everyone greeted her and Y/n noted the redness on Naomi's cheeks as George greeted her with a soft, "Nice to talk to you again, Naomi."

Karl giggled again and slapped his hand over his mouth; Y/n had a feeling he'd have to do that a lot this stream.

"Can we all agree to not pander?" Bad asked, earning a few approvals.

"What if we play one game where we only pander?" Dream asked. "Like pander as much as possible for every answer."

"Wait, yeah, let's do that so everyone can get it out of their system," Wilbur agreed.

"But Naomi doesn't know us well enough to pander yet," Sapnap countered.

"Yes I do," she said with a laugh. "I've watched enough streams and lore videos to know exactly how to get votes."

"Damn, okay then," Sapnap mumbled.

"Yeah, she'll be fine," George promise and Naomi blushed again, making Y/n laugh. Naomi joined the lobby on her phone and the round began.

Pandering being the goal was both annoying and hilarious because people used the same jokes, but it was funny to see how hard people were trying to get the audience votes.

"Something you would take with you on a deserted island," Quackity read out loud as the prompt showed up. "An iPad full of downloaded skephalo fanfiction, HAHAH, or dreamnotfound fanart." Everyone laughed and Y/n could hear George scoff at one answer in particular.

"Aw, I love Skeppy!" Bad said innocently.

"Was that your answer then, Badboyhalo?" Wilbur teased as everyone voted on their favorite. Y/n, of course, cast her vote towards skephalo, but still pretended like the other answer didn't make her jealous. The player votes were split, but the audience made Sapnap's answer win in a landslide.

"Okay, the most disappointing thing to hear from a friend," Wilbur read the next one out loud. "Dreamsy is real, and you don't have a shot with BugsyGames."

"What the hell?" Y/n laughed loudly at the similarity between the two responses. Dream was laughing so hard, wheezing like he would never stop, and the sound brought a large grin to Y/n's face.

Everyone's laughs overlapped and mingled with each other and it was such a happy sound, distracting everyone's attention from Y/n a little.

"That would be the worst thing to hear!" Quackity yelled. "Good thing Bugity is real."

Dream stopped laughing abruptly and instead yelled, "WHAT?" which only made everyone laugh harder.

"Vote!!" Bad reminded.

"Wait, Quackity, what did you just say?" Dream asked.

"Well, I've seen her face, so... I think she loves me more," he said, just trying to get a rise out of the other, which seemed to be working.

Y/n thought again about how close she was to sending a picture of herself to Dream earlier. He probably would have immediately used it against Quackity, but she didn't think she would have minded because it was funny to see Dream jealous, real or not.

"Only because you flew out to hang out with Karl!" Dream yelled. "I'd fly just to see her."

"Then do it," Y/n challenged before she could think and her heart stopped at her own words.

Dream went silent and it was Naomi's turn to cover her laugh with her hand, Karl's eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Why are you so defensive, huh, Dream?" Punz asked.

"Uh, you-you have to be when fighting for Bug's love and attention," he joked finally, and Y/n's heart resumed beating, a little fast at the implication of his words. Why did she say that? He probably thought she was so weird. "It's every person for themselves." Then again, so was he.

The votes were pretty split since they said the same thing, but the surprising thing was who said what. She expected one of them to be from Quackity, but she didn't know who wrote the second one about not having a shot. Sapnap maybe? Karl? They all joke around so who put it?

"DREAM?" Sapnap laughed. "You wrote that?"

"Well, yeah, I mean..." he trailed off with a laugh and Y/n's face caught fire. Did he really think he didn't have a shot? Because reality check: he’s the only one with arrows and the target is wide open. Was he joking or stupid or was she just not as obvious as she previously thought?

"Okay, okay, next one," Quackity laughed. "If cats were political leaders, everyone’s favorite president would be: Patches, okay," he paused as Dream cheered loudly, "and Bingus."

"Corpse isn't even here! Wrong audience!" Karl said.

"Bingus is for all audiences," Y/n mumbled, making Naomi laugh.

"Uh-oh, another faceless man stealing Bugsy's heart—?" Sapnap joked, immediately cut off by Dream's stern, "no."

"Naomi, you put Patches?" Wilbur laughed as the votes went towards the girl on Y/n's left. "Okay, she does know more than we thought."

"Oh, I know everything," she said evilly, double-meaning evident in her voice. Y/n gave her a look and Naomi just smiled innocently.

The pandering got so intense that Y/n almost cried tears of joy when the first Quiplash game was over and the no-pandering rule got put back into play.

"What, you don't like your name being every other answer?" Wilbur joked and Y/n shook her head.

"No. But certain ones were okay..."

"Yeah, the Bugity ones," Quackity joked.

Dream hummed out a soft, "Okay, Quackity," and the next game began.

The games went on as usual and Y/n had a blast. It was so fun to see her best friend interact with all her online friends for the first time and it warmed her heart how inclusive they were, making sure Naomi wasn't left out of jokes. It helped that Naomi's sense of humor was similar and that she already knew a lot about the streamers, but Y/n was still grateful for all the efforts put forth by her friends.

It also helped that George and Naomi clearly liked each other.

"Is anyone going to stream?" Quackity asked as he started wrapping up.

"I will if no one else is," Punz said. "I'm going to play Valorant."

"Oh, can I play?" Sapnap asked.

"Yeah, definitely, dude."

"Okay, I'll raid you." Quackity muted after thanking everyone for playing and Y/n left the call.

"Dude, that was SO FUN!" Naomi stood up and yelled. She sat down on the end of Y/n's bed, hands balled up in excitement.

Karl laughed as he fell on top of the bed next to where Naomi sat. "I'm so glad you guys all got along!"

"Yeah, I almost started crying when everyone was laughing at your jokes," Y/n laughed, swiveling in her chair to look at them. "That made me so happy."

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much for letting me play. I had so much fun. And they're all so nice and funny and I was worried they'd make me feel left out but they didn't at all."

"I'm so glad you had fun," Y/n said. "We'll invite you again if you want."

"Please do. Only if everyone's okay with it though!"

"I'm sure they would be."

“The lake is going to be so fun,” she sighed whimsically. 

“Because George?” Karl teased, causing Naomi to punch his arm. 

A Discord notification sounded on Y/n's computer and she turned to look at the screen, smiling when she saw Dream's name.

Dream: You left the vc so quick :( Bugsy: I have two goons to hang out with :( Dream: :(((( Dream: I wanna be the only goon you hang out with Dream: I was right, I don't have a chance with you Dream: Karl is the only focus of Bugs attention Bugsy: ?? Bugsy: lies detected Dream: wait really Bugsy: ... Bugsy: do I need to remind you of the tweet I posted earlier Dream: bug don't say things like that to me Bugsy: why not Dream: can you kick Karl back to his house so we can ft or call :( Bugsy: no <3 Bugsy: we can tomorrow after Karl leaves Dream: promise? Dream: don't get my hopes up bug Bugsy: yeah I promise :) Dream: :D

"Pay attention to me!" Karl whined. Y/n turned back around and saw that Naomi had left the room and Karl was laying upside down, close to falling off the bed with his head dangling dangerously close to the ground.

She laughed and typed one last message to Dream.

Bugsy: bye bye dream :) Dream: goodnight bug :] sleep well

"Okay," she huffed jokingly, turning back to Karl. "You have my full, undivided attention."

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[4dtk]

heloo! can I request hand-holding (3), kisses (6, 12) hugs (32) and touching (12) with renjun, thank uu^^

why do my renjun drabbles always end up so long LOL . btw age old kiss under the mistletoe <3 never too early for x’ams imagines i guess LOL, enjoy!!!

hand-holding, 3: cold hands in warm hands

hugs, 32: long-lasting hugs

kisses, 6 & 12: slow kisses, kisses on the corner of their mouth

touching, 12: pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

renjun’s eyes couldn’t leave yours. well, more of your body as you talked with mark, gesturing grandly about his new single that he dropped. he remembers you playing it whenever you met up, rapping the lyrics back to him that only had renjun groaning in embarrassment. staring around the room, he scans over the members in the party with a smile. having had taken a rest from the all the alcohol earlier, he was glad to be left alone to his… indulgences where no one could interrupt him.

“hey.”

“gah! wh- what the hell?” haechan shocks him out of his stupor, easily avoiding a smack on the back from renjun. his laughter gains attention from others, but otherwise they just return a cheeky laugh back while conversing. soon, the other is able to pick up on his loneliness, partially blaming it on the crazy challenge he dared renjun to do earlier. the partial reason, however..

“are you ever going to confess to (y/n)?” haechan raises a brow.

“keep it down! christ, hyuck. just because some members here have their partners on their arms doesn’t mean i should rush to make (y/n) mine.”

“oh, but you’re so obvious that it’s tiring to watch,” haechan sighs, taking a swig of his drink. the both of them admire the theme of the party for a little bit, red and green decorations hung from the spacious dorm, held on the fifth floor because they were the ‘cleanest’ (against jungwoo’s wishes and with kun’s agreement, they settled for an early celebration on the 23rd).

the speakers blasted christmas music, no doubt from the talented mr. bublé who was a compulsory artist to listen to, along with other renditions of christmas songs that just felt good. fairy lights from the members’ rooms were brought to be set up. plus, with ten’s recent sunset light purchase that he bought for the felines, the room was soon bathed in joyous lighting that could rival decorations outside.

“dude. the members had to have their partners fly in because they’re both so busy. (y/n)’s already there, c’mon the opportunity is right there — and this is the one time you’re able to unwind and relax. just go for it, man,” haechan is relaxed and laid-back, haven’t yet experienced the palpitations whenever one looks at their crush. the only exception was probably a rookie idol back then, but that was old news.

“if you happen to want to cuddle or fuck later, we’ll leave you alone.” this time, renjun was able to land a punch to his shoulder, expression turned into a scowl.

“you’re right, i guess. i’ll see what i can do.”

a gasp, “renjun admitting i’m right? rare.” renjun gives the other a lighter smack with a smile, chugging down the last bit of his water before heading over to you. he feels like he’s walking through snow whenever he wants to get to you, the resistance strong with each step. curling and uncurling his fingers, he loosened his freezing hands as you wrap up the conversation with mark.

“renjun! have a good rest? donghyuck was trying to avoid you for the past fifteen minutes, because he knew you’d get another headache if he talked to you.”

“i’m having one right now,” renjun jokes, emphasising his point by rubbing some fingers on his temple.

your laugh is like first snow. or like the heater that’s currently fuelling the house with heat. he isn’t sure what to choose, but he knows he likes it and wants to make you laugh more.

“do you need to rest again? i’ll promise i’ll be quiet-“

“delivery?” someone calls out. with a shout, you’re already at the door, receiving another batch of booze since the grocery shopping you went on earlier severely underestimated how much these boys can drink. “oh- uh-“ renjun swoops in like prince charming, hand brushing over yours while he steps forward to help you. they tingle like electricity, deciding against pulling away which would leave you to struggle.

“miss (l/n) (y/n) and mr huang renjun. please freeze in your place,” haechan’s annoying voice penetrates throughout all the conversation happening and you swear the man beside you mutters a curse as you two try to haul the booze past the member. “place the beer down. you aren’t going anywhere, anyway.”

before any of you can ask for an explanation, he points above you which displayed a mistletoe. “surprise!”

the delivery man’s voice scares you, until you realise it’s johnny, hidden under a very smart disguise of a fake moustache and a replica of the uniform. your mouth hangs open even when johnny squeezes past you with the booze effortlessly hanging from one arm, sighing inaudibly at the absence of the heavy drinks.

“so?” the members are looking at you expectedly like they’re watching a movie. there’s endless thoughts swirling in your mind even when renjun grabs your hand with his timid one, but it calms you down just a little when he brushes a thumb over your skin. it’s like you’re waiting for the director to yell out ‘cut!’; even you thought you’d do better on a movie set.

“(y/n)-“

he’s cut off by your lips crashing onto his, garnering a few ooohs and ahhs, including the satisfied smiles and sighs of relief. renjun’s lips taste like a mixture of the candy cane drink he spat out earlier, and some whiskey with coke. it’s a confusing taste, but with the pace your lips are moving with each other, it allows you to draw out every other time you imagined kissing huang renjun.

it doesn’t even come close, if you’re being honest and even if you’re standing in front of countless other men he calls his members in a ridiculously sized k-pop group. renjun deepens the kiss when he turns his head, cold, but clammy hands coming up the cup your cheeks. they shock you for just a bit and there’s a shameless smile into the kiss as renjun continues to deliver pecks onto your own.

he chuckle and it sounds like well-written christmas movies, or the very first listen to michael bublé’s christmas album. you aren’t sure what to choose, but you know you like it and want to make him chuckle more.

in a blink of an eye, you’ve grabbed his hand, heading straight for one of the rooms that you often see when renjun’s gaming with haechan. you recognise it straight away from the set-up and in a rush to shut the door, you stumble just a bit before meeting the hard wood of the door in a roar of laughter.

“great, now they’ve locked two people out,” haechan nudges johnny.

“three!” johnny’s partner calls from the doorway, which makes the living room shake in another round of cheers, getting back into the natural flow of things before everything got interrupted by a plant. faintly, you hear them ask if the plan worked, and haechan’s prideful answer right after.

slowly, you peek out of your hiding spot being your hands. renjun’s eyes shine, “so you like me.” it comes out flatter than he expected and he winces.

you snort, taking a step closer to him on the door, half leaning on it. without any prompting, the other’s arms encircle your waist, now pulling you flush against him while your head rest on his front. the next moments are spent in comfortable silence, the rowdy party going on outside giving you a little of a main character moment. your breathing syncs up, chest expanding and contracting with the deep breaths you take. there’s always a puff of mist leaving your lips, but it appears less now that you’re in your crush’s arms.

“yeah. i like you,” you nod, coming to face him after the tight embrace. his fingers touch your cheek experimentally and you flinch, the pads freezing cold to the touch. maybe it’s because he didn’t touch whiskey for the past half ’n hour. gently, you take his hands in yours. “why’re you always freezing?”

“ugh. you figured me out. tactic to get you to hold my hands.” throwing your head back in a silent laugh, you shake your head in disbelief.

“at least you haven’t caught on to me, holding your hands down so you won’t have to-” a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “restrict me from-” another to the other. “doing this.” lastly to his lips.

renjun entertains your dramatic flair with his jaw hung open. it doesn’t last long, though. “why would i restrict you from doing that?” you shrug, letting go of his hands now that they gained sufficient warmth. renjun silently decides it’s not enough, but first, he wants to kiss you again. his fingers are less freakishly cold now, brushing against your skin to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. it sits there obediently, dissimilar with the way you did it. ‘it always falls out!’ you want to tell him later, but first, you want to kiss him again.

“huang renjun, you drive me crazy.” grinning, renjun knows it’s your way of confessing before his lips collide with yours with the fervour that hallmark movies lacked, and ironically, a plot which hallmark movies embodied. and just like that, you wish you could hold a pause icon over your head, because you wanted this to last for as long as it could.

[miiracleboys]

tendou for the bingo 👀 perhaps

got TWO asks on him!!!

i am so normal about them: have never and will never shut up about him. it’s about masks and facades and weaponizing that and finding community alongside people who are as strange as you are in their own way and who love you for everything that you are and friendship and learning to trust both yourself and others and to live your life to the fullest no matter what and having fun and being loudly and unapologetically yourself and using that as a tool and a shield and a refuge all in one. he is an asshole and he is so weird and he is wonderful and i love him SO much.

i have so many headcanons about them: tendou is always on my mind and if he’s not at the forefront he’s on a back burner somewhere. i will never pass on an opportunity to talk about him. also i have not read philip pullman’s work as of yet but i firmly believe his daemon is a hyena.

💕: i did not realize at first that he was my favorite character until i started connecting the dots about how i would literally start cheering when he came onscreen.

everyone else is wrong about them: me and my mutuals bear the burden of being right about everything. it’s a curse really

the fandom is so mean smh: crazy how much people mischaracterize him. take your pick on the sliding scale of “woobie with no friends :’(“ to “actual serial killer.” whapping them over the heads with a rolled-up newspaper. also i wish all people who hate him strictly because of his character design a very become literate.

*puts them in a salad spinner*: mixing him. spinning him. tossing him.

that’s a solid design right there: tendou’s design is both iconic and immediately recognizable but it also just. makes sense. the hair color, the hairstyle, the wide eyes, the small pupils, the wiry build, the :3, the :Dc—it makes sense! his design fits him so well. it also makes him that much more likable :)

they are so silly: he’s so!!!!!!!!!!! also everybody say thank you to the voice actors but especially josh grelle for the delivery of tendou’s lines.

literally i would kiss them: if i were in haikyuu i would’ve developed the biggest comphet crush on him. also i hate to admit that the person who said that your top ship is “character you relate to x character who is your type” was right but. :/ ushiten is a perfect example of this.

bastard: this is like half of his playing strategy and a sizable chunk of his personality. it’s okay though. much like his direct competition for the Bastard of the Year Award tsukishima, it adds to his charm as a character.

i want to BITE them: SHAKING HIM LIKE A DOG WITH A BALL.

[onewingedluci]

my chemical morb-mance

honestly i’d just like to make a rundown of how CURSED the mcr glasgow show was because i constantly think about it

1. i set my alarm for like half 2 to get up and get ready, i woke up an hour before the bus and i live 45 ish minutes away from the bus depot so had to half get ready and do the rest of my makeup in my mums car

2. the bus heating wasn’t working so i was freezing my tits off by the time i got to glasgow

3. four corners mcdonald’s was shut for renovations

4. when i got to the venue, i met @crvptidcore and honestly from there on out it’s a weird day, we got numbers and red made sure they got 69, i think i was 66

5. the nearest bathroom to the hydro venue is the secc, and i think there was some kind of conference going on so anytime you went to the toilet there was people in suits and shit staring at the big emo crowd

6. the amount of deliveries people got, i was constantly debating getting some buckfast delivered for the banter

7. someone had a binley mega chippy sign

8. we kept referencing morbius ( if you go on the MCRGLASGOW tag on twitter you’ll see the tweets) and ended up making a morbin’ time sign to hold up during the gig

9. we ended up using posca pen to write stuff on our hands and knuckles, and then painted our nails with it, red had ween on one hand and i think i had shit cunt because why not

10. i can’t remember his name but there was a guy from rocksound there who came up and interviewed us and i’m pretty sure i said the music ‘really speaks to me emotionally’ because i had been in the sun for hours and my brain was starting to melt

11. the line for the merch was long at, and red got a whole like pile of merch, i got two shirts even tho i was like broke ahahaha

12. we ended up getting minecraft trading cards and minion stickers which i still have on my power bank

13. i learned about unholyverse in the queue from red and honestly i don’t know if i’m thankful or not because they made me cry at like 2am reading them

14. one of the door guys actually looked terrified as we were starting to pile in the doors

15. someone in the queue was double barrelling elf bars which i would have done but i was like rationing mine

16. i ended up on frank and mikey’s side of the stage and it was just full of crackhead energy, i’m pretty sure i had a full blown conversation with someone about roller derby but everything that happened that day feels like a fever dream

17. during the gig, frank fell on his arse which was great

18. gerard said ‘do you want to hear my emo batman’ and then proceeded to say ‘joker it’s time to drink my piss’ and i think half of the crowd were dying laughing and the other half were like ???

19. someone threw their shirt at gerard and he started screaming fuck yeah you’re the man now

20. the iconic ‘LOOK AT THIS’ rat clip

21. obv motor oil gerard in general was wild, plus he kept mentioning he was 👹 STICKY 👹

22. i think someone near me just started screaming as soon as they saw mikey and honestly same

23. ray just looked majestic, his hair was everywhere and he looked just happy to be there

24. frank wrung his sweat after the show into a cup and i’m pretty sure i saw people arguing over the clip on twitter thinking it was green tea

25. i got COVID from the show lol it was covid central , thankfully i was okay but i did feel rough lol

all in all, it was the best show i’ve ever been to and i want to commentate the day with a morbin time tattoo

[6okuto]

I DIDNT KNOW u could ask for general hcs / situational hcs ?£!?£!£ ignore this if i got this wrong but im starving and salivating for some felix hcs … could literally be anything insignificant or about anything at all 🙏

— general felix hcs

PLS i am here for gen hcs all the time fr!

on the anniversary of rime's death he'd walk around their favourite spots alone. he'd whisper his last words to himself while holding rime's belongings he kept because it's all he could do to stay hopeful while figuring out how to bring him back . sorry. moving on

this guy would love spirit halloween. HBELSPDFK

access to the internet and wikipedia gives him immeasurable power for infodumps and deep dives into the most random things

anytime he's admin of a gc he kicks sage out randomly for fun

one time he answered the door because you ordered food and he was in a whole get up,, cape and everything,, and the delivery guy thought he was cosplaying

he likes those mochi squishy toys. he has a collection but won't show anyone

if you kiss one of his moles he starts [ ?!!!?"?#@+$_#"!? ] you get it

anytime there's a pop culture reference in a book he's filled with an (in)explicable rage.

suggestive // i know that guy was putting on the ch 12 outfit and wondering what mc would think about it. he was Really wondering what they would do. like Really thinking and pondering and questioning

sometimes i think about the devs saying his fashion sense is the hot topic clearance rack and i cry a little. you walk in and he's wearing a shirt with the "i'm not antisocial i just don't like you" quote and start screaming

i need...university student!felix...i need the staying at the library and coffee shops looking mysterious while he's writing on ao3 to procrastinate

i also need felix to find out gen z humour. like in general he probably doesn't find it super funny but one time he read a "i hope my next breath is my last" comment and snorted

he thinks lava lamps are so cool i think he should have a lava lamp

he also likes watching video essays. probably has a playlist with his favourites

he's the guy who figures out plot twists like 15 minutes into the movie and you have to tell him to shut up

he watched the all too well short film and kept getting videos explaining them and now he just,, knows. even though he didn't try. someone brings it up and he nonchalantly explains like why do you not know the taylor swift jake gyllenhaal lore?

really bad at ice skating. like real bad. tries to play it off but he falls and now he's flustered and clutching on to you for dear life (even after he gets the hang of it because why would he let go at this point)

he picked out icons for every contact on his phone and there's a little heart next to your name

[luvdsc]

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged. 

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play. 

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode. 

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold. 

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you. 

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

[mariacallous]

Tens of thousands of people filled Prague’s iconic Wenceslas Square on Sept. 28 to demand help from the government amid an energy crisis that has sent household bills skyrocketing beyond the pale for many. Their fears are being exploited by extremist fringe political forces that called for an end to the Czech Republic’s support for Ukraine and for talks with Russia to resume gas deliveries.

Senior Czech officials, such as Parliament Speaker Marketa Pekarova Adamova, who suggested that people facing high energy bills turn their heat down and put on a sweater this winter, are warning that Russian President Vladimir Putin is using his leverage over Europe’s energy supply to create panic and test the resolve of the population.

The protests are a sign that, in Central Europe, the Kremlin’s strategy is working.

Moscow has been waging an energy war against Europe for months, allegedly in response to the West’s sanctions regime. Putin suggested that he could halt all supplies to leave Europe to “freeze” through the winter. “We will not supply anything at all if it contradicts our interests,” he said.

It’s a palpable pressure point—and one that the Kremlin is likely to try to press on harder as Kyiv calls for allies to accelerate arms deliveries in a bid to extend its military advances. So far, the Kremlin’s energy war has failed to get Western countries to walk back their support for Ukraine, and Central and Eastern European states are among Ukraine’s staunchest supporters.

But the Czech Republic and Slovakia are on the front lines of the energy war, and the risk of domestic political instability is growing as prices and fears of winter shortages soar. Despite remaining firm for now, there is a risk that this could weaken their support for Ukraine.

Provoking political instability in the West is one of the Kremlin’s favorite interests. U.S. reports claim Moscow has pumped $300 million into the effort since 2014. Alongside disinformation campaigns and election interference, Putin now has a new tactic for sowing political discord: energy warfare.

As a means of causing political turmoil, energy warfare is working. It has helped send inflation skyrocketing across Europe. Governments are scrambling to secure alternative supplies, and the worst-case scenario—that Russia will shut off the gas taps completely during the winter heating season—threatens severe disruption.

Central and Eastern Europe are the most vulnerable of Europe’s regions to Putin’s tactics due to their lower economic development and high dependence on Russian energy. Last year, Russian gas accounted for 55 percent of Czech gas consumption, 68 percent of Slovak gas consumption, and 79 percent of Bulgarian gas consumption.

In an effort to depend less on Russia, these countries have attempted to outsource their gas suppliers. The Czechs recently bought into a new liquified natural gas platform in the Netherlands and are hoping that fuel from Norway and Belgium will help make up for shortages from the East. Slovakia has also expanded its network of suppliers and, having opened a new link to Poland, should be able to tap some gas, which is set to start arriving via a new Polish link to Norway.

Yet even as the Baltic Pipe opened on Sept. 27, Russia’s giant Nord Stream 1 and 2 pipelines were attacked, raising the likelihood that most European Union states will receive no Russian gas at all this winter. Central Europe’s rerouting efforts may not be enough.

As a result, predictions of rationing, industrial shutdowns, and deep recession stalk the region. Vulnerable households facing energy bills that have virtually doubled over the past 12 months and amid double-digit inflation increasingly fear that they’ll struggle to keep the heat on, and doubt is growing over the readiness of governments to help.

Bulgaria’s pro-Western government has already fallen victim to these domestic worries, which resulted in a no-confidence vote that removed Prime Minister Kiril Petkov from office—leaving the door open for illiberal, pro-Russia parties to potentially fill the vacuum.

Weaponizing its leverage over the country’s gas supplies, Russia cut Bulgaria off completely in April. In line with the Kremlin’s playbook, Sofia now looks to be slipping back under the influence of Russian gas giant Gazprom.

Similar instability now threatens the Czech and Slovak governments, as anti-establishment, pro-Russian parties seek to take advantage of voters who fear they could soon be priced out of heating their homes.

Slovakia’s governing coalition collapsed at the start of September following months of vicious infighting sparked by a row over a scheme of state support for households facing prices that, in August, helped push inflation to 14 percent in annual terms. That leaves the government looking precarious as it limps on shorn of a majority in parliament, and a collapse is not unlikely as the pressure persists.

Illiberal forces are doing their best to raise the stakes in Bratislava. Former Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico, a populist strongman who dominated Slovak politics until he lost power two years ago in the wake of the assassination of a journalist, and who has been accused of running an organized crime group from the premier’s office, is pushing to tip what remains of the government over the edge. He launched a petition calling for a snap election, which has been referred to the country’s Constitutional Court.

Should Fico manage to force early elections and push the country’s leading opposition party, the Democracy-Slovak Social Democracy (Smer) party, into power, he will have a chance to bury charges that he used police and tax authorities to attack political rivals. Neo-Nazi parties, such as Republika, are supporting Fico’s call for a snap vote.

The threat that Fico poses to Slovakia’s democracy and the country’s pro-Western credentials is palpable. Fresh from leading anti-vaccine protests during the pandemic, he has demanded an end to Bratislava’s support for Ukraine and compared the stationing of NATO troops in the country with its occupation during World War II.

He’s been blacklisted by Ukraine for his pro-Kremlin stance, but many Slovaks, half of whom are reportedly rooting for Russia, enjoy his anti-Western rants. That has the nominally center-left Smer maintaining support significantly higher than that of its center-right rivals in the coalition.

“The effects of the war in Ukraine and the energy and inflation crisis are helping to weaken the liberal bloc,” Grigorij Meseznikov at the Bratislava-based Institute for Public Affairs told Foreign Policy. “And that is encouraging Fico to try to trigger an election.”

In the Czech Republic, the five-party coalition government has also started to feel the heat from vulnerable demographics of society who fear they could end up freezing this winter. Czech Prime Minister Petr Fiala was surprised by a crowd of 70,000 people who gathered in Prague on Sept. 3 to protest his center-right government’s sluggish response to the energy crisis. The premier criticized the leaders of the protest even as he continues to struggle to reassure worried householders that the state will catch them if they fall.

To little avail, the governing parties—whose outspoken support for Ukraine has helped reassert Prague’s credentials among NATO and EU partners—have been headed south in the polls since inflation began to bite in the spring.

Data suggests that the percentage of Czechs living below the poverty line is rising dramatically, with eye-watering energy prices helping to push inflation above 17 percent in August. Combined with state aid for 350,000 Ukrainian refugees and widespread disinformation, Lenka Bustikova, an associate professor at the University of Oxford and analyst for the Center for European Policy Analysis, cautions that these conditions have “created an ideal breeding ground for the politics of resentment.”

Support for Russia appears to be less widespread in the Czech Republic than in Slovakia. Most people attending the Prague protests are unlikely to agree with the pro-Kremlin agenda put forward by organizers due to historical reasons. “Support for Ukraine and the refugees remains strong despite the lengthening time of war,” said Ondrej Kopecny, a sociologist and head of Transparency International Czech Republic. “The invasion by Warsaw Pact troops in 1968 plays a role in that, and the data suggests that those opposed to helping Ukraine is 10 to 15 percent at most.”

Many have a wary eye on January’s presidential vote, for which populist Andrej Babis—a former prime minister currently on trial for fraud—is a front-runner.

But it’s not only populism waiting in the wings: Extremist anti-establishment parties also lurk, hoping to ride Putin’s coattails to secure parliamentary seats and plug their far-right, illiberal, and pro-Russian agendas into policy. A double-dip recession under a center-right government’s austerity measures “led directly to the rise of Babis and [departing pro-Russian Czech President] Milos Zeman,” said Ondrej Houska, an editor at the Hospodarske noviny newspaper.

“The health of Czech liberal democracy—and its historic role as a bulwark against the onslaught of illiberalism in Central and Eastern Europe—depends on the ability of the government to address economic fears and anger over political exclusion,” said Petra Guasti, an associate professor at Prague’s Charles University. “It will take more than a sweater.”