#i was wondering what prompted you to poke through my old posts

[pisoprano]

Agree 100% with everything you’ve said.

I think some of the ambiguity of the Ladywalker ship is that for Adrien, he’s usually treating the situation like it’s Ladrien (be polite boy that Ladybug doesn’t know) ; for Marinette, it’s more complicated and can be Ladrien or Ladynoir or a Third Thing (a guy who is like Adrien but is not him, a guy who is like Chat but is not him, a guy without world-ending baggage but who won’t ever let her in). There are a lot of nuances to explore and there isn’t really much consensus on what their dynamic is supposed to be yet since it can be so dependent on what the writer wants to do with it—“I’m just borrowing the cat miraculous today” and “Chat is gone because [reasons] and now I’m replacing him” lead to very different character interactions. And yet, I still can identify a Ladywalker flavor that can only come out from the identities layering on top of each other like this. It’s kinda like how Ladyblanc is so similar to Ladynoir, but because Chat Blanc has something seriously wrong with him, it makes their ship play out in a different dynamic than when he’s Chat Noir. With Catwalker, there’s also enough of a change in his behavior that we should likewise recognize this version of Adrien as a different side of the love square.

ladywalker

[ihavethedreamies]

Cherry | Juicy Fruit | Haechan

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan - NCT Dream)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.2k

Pairing: Haechan x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Couch Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: It all started with a cherry stem…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, but as you can see by the word count, that didn't happen.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

-> Series Hub <-

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"Do cherries come from the same trees as the flowers?" Your boyfriend was holding one of the red fruits by the stem. It spun back and forth in the air with prompting from his finger tips, another one being chewed in his mouth. You could hear the pit clacking against his teeth as he sucked it clean.

"I don't think so…" You wondered what prompted the question, only briefly glancing up from your phone at him. You were sitting at your kitchen table to eat. You had been looking over the different delivery menus, spread across the surface and you were scrolling through your phone to see who was open. Not only was it past normal meal hours, which was normally not too much of an issue, it was some kind of political holiday that only old people cared about. The only problem was that most of the people that would make the food you wanted were said old people. It was also more of something for families, not young couples who did a lot of the baby-making practice but with not desired end product.

"Okay, this place is only open for fifteen more minutes so they're out." You took the noodle menu off the table, placing it on the discard stack.

"Anything else look good or do we need to go to the convenience store?" You asked and when he didn't reply, you slammed your hand down to get his attention. He startled and his wide eyes were really very cute, but you would never admit it out loud, even in private with just him. While you loved him to pieces, you were very reluctant to voice it. After trying to say he was annoying for so many years, you were loath to admit you didn't hate him. You never did, you were just in denial about how much you liked him despite your harsh words. He saw through it.

"Donghyuck!" You scolded and he blinked.

"What?" He emphasized the vowel, and you rolled your eyes. His shocked face softened to a smug grin as he watched you watch him put the next cherry in his mouth, the other pit still in his cheek. His tongue wrapped around the red orb as he took it between his lips, and you shook your head to pull your attention away. He huffed in amusement, you were such a tsundere.

"What are we having for supper? I only got snacks and stuff…" You poked the container holding the cherries. You had planned on eating out or getting delivery, but the stupid holiday interfered with your regular Saturday night plans.

"We could have each other." Donghyuck smirked, chewing the last bits of fruit off the pit before rolling the two around his open mouth playfully. He knew your eyes were not just on his face, but specifically his tongue. You swallowed hard and your eyebrows furrowed, mouth open to scold him again. He let the pits fall out of his mouth and onto the paper plate where the rest of them laid and his smug look turned bored.

"Idiot." You clicked your tongue, face pink, "I need actual food."

"Hm, you might, but I could just eat you?" He winked and your let out a disgusted grunt, getting up from the table and moving to leave the apartment and head down the street.

"(Y/N), wait!" He cooed at you, skipping to follow you. When you started to wiggle your foot to slip it into your sneaker, he kneeled down to tie his. You struggled to get the shoe on without untying it, so he leaned forward to help you get them on. The sweet gesture made your cheeks warm further, but you didn't say anything, so he helped you get the other on. He stood back up with a hop, still taller than you even though he was standing on the lowered part of the floor by the door.

"Ready, milady~?" He held his arm out for you to link with, but you just mumbled something and walked past him and out. Your boyfriend sighed dramatically but followed after you still. You always made up for your dismissive behavior after he railed you into the next morning, turning affectionate and playful. He continued to try and seduce you through the not subtle act of aegyo, and you kept shoving him away, especially as you walked down the road. Donghyuck held the door open for you as you entered the convenience store. The inside was just as dead as the streets, and it felt nearly surreal. You each shopped around a bit, and he got nearly twice as much food as you, and for some reason he felt the need to buy everything he could find that was cherry flavored.

"You know none of this stuff tastes like actual cherries, right?" you asked, watching him place the different candies and sweets down. The only thing you would actually consume was the cherry flavored cola he got as well.

"I know. That's what the actual cherries are for." He pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Not wanting to admit it even in your own head, the blank look he gave you was just as cute as everything else he did. It pissed you off a bit that he was so endearing. The tired cashier told you your price and your boyfriend had his card in the reader before you could even pull yours out. He took all of the bags as well and you opened the door for him that time.

"Did you need to buy all of that?" You grumbled, eyeing the five bags he was carrying.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Curiosity." He answered after donning a pondering look.

"Okay." You rolled your eyes, not caring enough to delve further into that line of questioning.

"Did you get everything cherry flavored?"

"Not everything…"

"What did you leave behind, cough syrup?"

"The condoms." He stated simply and you halted for a beat, then jogged to catch up.

"Why not?" You finally relented to ask. He tossed you a coy look, "they didn't have the right size." You halted a step but conceded his point and jogged to catch back up. When you finally got back to the apartment, he put the bags on the coffee table, and you grabbed your meal to heat it up in the microwave. As you plugged in the numbers, Hyuck came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"What?" you asked flatly, and he whined pathetically, resting his cheek on the side of your head.

"Can't I hug my girlfriend?" You didn't reply to his question, so he took that as the go ahead to continue. As he smelled your food as it got done, he realized how famished he was and hurried to make his own. Some random variety show played on the TV while you both ate, he devoured twice as much food as you did in nearly half the time. Once you were both done and everything was cleaned up, he laid out all the cherry candies and snacks, as well as some real ones.

"We shall judge them for quality." He motioned broadly and you sat next to him at the coffee table. Hyuck was a bit surprised at how close you willingly sat, pressed to his side. You were warming up. You started to sort through them, pushing the ones you refused to try to the side.

"You need to have the full picture to make an informed decision." He told you with false condescension. He sniffed and picked up the first packet to rip it open. The fake cherry scent hit your nose and you sneered, reaching over the table to grab a real one. As you chewed, he started in on the candy and his face twisted, putting the bag down and grabbing a fruit himself. You pulled the pit from your mouth and set it on your napkin from supper and he did the same.

"Can you tie a knot with your tongue?" He held up one of the stems and you hummed.

"I don't know, I haven't tried." You took it from him, and he plucked another one off a cherry for himself.

"Let's see who can do it faster." He decided and you nodded in agreement and you both watched the other as you took the stems into your mouths. You focused hard, trying to maneuver the little piece with your tongue into the right configuration, but it was no use. When you almost choked on it, you pulled it out, nose crinkled.

"Nope." You turned to look at him and he stuck his tongue out at you, the tied stem resting on the surface

"How the heck!?" You grabbed the little stem from where it laid, looking it over.

"Want me to show you?" His tone had deepened, but you were too confused to register it.

"Yeah!" You turned to watch, not expecting his mouth to connect to yours. Your shocked inhalation allowed his tongue entry and you wanted to fight, but you also really didn't. Hyuck smirked into the kiss as you let out a tiny mewl, expertly twisting his tongue around yours. You moaned when he led you to straddle his lap, pushing the coffee table away with his foot. When you settled, his hands on your hips pushed you down, grinding your covered cunt over his hard cock. You whined, trying to pull back, but he held you still, sucking on your tongue so you couldn't easily pull back. He had a hard time not laughing when your entire body shuddered. Finally, he let you go, you leaned back, panting hard.

"Fucking hell-" Your fingers were clenching the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"I can do more than that~" He hummed playfully, and you blinked, "huh?" Your noise of question was followed by a yelp as he lifted you, setting you on the couch behind him, turning to he faced you. Another tug brought your butt to the edge of the cushion, and he took advantage of your surprise to yank your shorts and panties off without hinderance.

"H-Hyuck~!" You whimpered when he instantly brought his skillful tongue to your cunt, wriggling it inside, nose hitting your clit. You sighed shakily, legs twitching when he hummed, the vibration ringing through him to you.

"Wait-" You tried to get him to stop, extremely embarrassed at your position and feeling weird about how fast he was bringing you to climax. You shuddered again as his tongue left your core, stroking up through your folds to flick your clit. Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see his stupid grin right before he sucked on your clit hard. Hyuck's hands flew to your hips to hold them down as you came, helping you ride it out.

"Too bad I can't pop your cherry…" He mumbled, a little embarrassed at his stupid pun. You huffed in disbelief, having heard him perfectly fine even though he kind of hid it.

"Doesn't fucking matter, get inside me-" he had never heard you so impatient, but he was more than willing to abide. He removed your top as you helped him get rid of his own clothes, and your back barely hit the couch cushions before he was pressing into you. Even if you hadn't just came on his tongue, you were soaking wet, your gummy walls clenching desperately to his cock.

"Aw~ sweet girl~" He huffed in delight as your cunt quivered, getting used to the stretch and before you were fully acclimated, he started to move.

"Wait, Hyuck!" Your hands grabbed his shoulders. When he leaned over you move, he took your hands from him, holding them above your head with one of his. His lips hovered over yours, hips rolling slowly but hard, fat cock battering your back wall. You practically cried when he kissed you again, tongue reentering your mouth to capture yours. You were helpless under him, sanity quickly leaving between his cock in your cunt and his tongue down your throat. When air was getting a bit low, he finally removed his mouth from yours, moving it to your jaw and down the column of your throat. You whimpered with each thrust, getting steadily faster and harder as he sucked your skin. His goal was to make the hickeys are red as the cherries you both had been eating earlier.

"Hyuck, I~" You couldn't get the rest of your sentence out. His hand had let go of your wrists, both of them going to your waist so he could shift positions. He sat back up move, hiking your hips up to arch your back and after an extremely practiced and hard thrust, he chuckled as you came again. He groaned at the tight flutter of your walls and couldn't help but fall over the edge himself. You whimpered when he finally let your legs and hips relax, not pulling out of you yet. With a tired gaze, you watched him reach and grab a bottle you hadn't noticed before from the coffee table, barely within reach. He popped the cap on the red container, an equally red substance spilling out and dripping over your skin. You shivered at the cold, and he licked his lips.

"Hmm… cherry flavored (Y/N)~"

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[lasanya539]

Trick or treat! ✨🎃（＾∇＾）

post-halloween trick-or-treat ask!

Treat! You get a drabble (1.3k words) based on this prompt by @prompts-in-a-barrel!

----

"You seem nervous."

Donnie gulps, glancing at April. "I have never encountered human children before. I'm not sure of the protocols." April rolls her eyes, gesturing at the miniature person Donnie's been eyeing quite critically for some time, nestled comfortably in her lap. "There is no protocol, dude. This is literally just a baby."

"Yes, and I've never talked to one before. What am I supposed to say? 'Goo-goo', 'gah-gah'?"

She sputters out a laugh, fingers raking through the curly hair of a small head tucked under her chin. The child looks up, letting out a coo and leaning further into the touch.

Curious brown eyes tick over to Donnie, who shoots a vaguely disgusted look at the chubby fingers in her drooling mouth. She coos again, flapping her other unoccupied hand at him.

"Are you side-eyeing a baby, Donatello?" April says, picking up the packet of wet wipes from the coffee table. "I don't think Priya's old enough to have mastered the art of social cues and non-verbal communication."

"Look at what she's doing! She's getting her spit everywhere!"

April delicately pries the toddler's - Priya, as her birth certificate apparently says - hand away, wiping her clean. Donnie can see the clear affection she has for her babysitting charge, as she responds to her babbling with some baby-talk of her own.

He snorts. "You're so domestic."

Her eyes flash behind her glasses. "I will dismember you."

He raises his hands in surrender, not willing to suffer her wrath when he isn't caffeinated properly.

Honestly, he's not even sure why April asked him of all people to help her babysit. The only reason he's here is because she not-so-subtly bribed him with a slice of her mother's pumpkin spice pie, and Gaga knows how easy Donnie is for Mrs. O'Neil's cooking.

"How long are we staying here?" He groans, slouching on the sofa.

"A couple of hours more, I think. Her parents are planning on getting all of their Diwali shopping in one day for some reason. But that's why I'm getting paid the big bucks for sacrificing my Saturday before Halloween!" April bounces Priya on her lap once she's all clean, grinning at her.

"And I get to spend it all with you, cutie-pie!" She pokes her in the stomach, looking delighted at the responding giggle.

Donnie rolls her head towards the two of them. A smile tugs at his lips. "Okay, fine. She is pretty cute."

"Right? The cutest. Here, you should hold her!"

"I - what?"

April suddenly stands up, and with a surprising amount of strength drags him up with her. Donnie just barely keeps himself from crashing into the coffee table, before she thrusts the baby at him.

Surprised by the sudden course of events, he has no choice but to grab the small body, lest they somehow manage to drop her. Which he might, he thinks, panicked, tightening his grip as much as he dares to without hurting her in any sort of way.

"Oh, Galileo, absolutely not. Take her back right now."

"Donnie. Chill out, dude."

"'Chill out'?" He wonders what sort of picture he makes, standing in the middle of an apartment living room, among the festive string lights and decorations, shoulders hiked up to his ears as he holds up a baby at arms length.

He doesn't have to wonder for long, because April immediately snaps a picture with her phone.

"April!"

"Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist." She puts the phone away, and laughs helplessly, waving a hand at him. "What are you doing? Why are you holding her like that?"

Priya seems to have the same question, if the wide eyes looking at him under the curly fringe are any indication. He gives her the same wide-eyed stare back. "I don't know! If I've never talked to a baby before, what makes you think I would know how to hold one?"

"Maybe start by not holding her like he's going to blow up any second?" April asked wryly, raising a brow at him.

Donnie furtively glances at her dotted onesie, specifically the diaper under it. "We don't know she won't for sure."

"Ugh, I changed her ten minutes ago! Donnie, look." She stands in front of him and bends her elbows in a cradling pose. "Here, see? Bring her close and hold her like that."

"Uh." Donnie has no idea how to do that without taking one hand off her, and he's terrified of trying to maneuver her without 100% certainty she isn't going to fall. "No. I think I'm good like this."

"C'mon, dude! Just hold her like you'd hold a football."

He huffs, quoting back, "This is how I would hold a football."

The football-in-question is still just blinking at him like he's a particularly fascinating science project. She gurgles at him, babbling incoherently. He wonders fleetingly if her babbling would sound the same if he spoke in Hindi instead of English, before her legs kick out impatiently under his hold.

"She's getting bored." April helpfully provides. Donnie tamps down the immediate 'noooo really?', keeping the sarcastic response to himself, studying the baby like she's the fascinating science project.

Experimentally, keeping a secure hold on her, he sways Priya a little to his right. Priya giggles happily with the motion, gums on full display. He sways her the other way with a little bounce. She squeals delightedly. He does it again. And again, side to side. Until he finally spins her around in a circle, balancing on his heel, whirling her in a wide arc as she shrieks in enjoyment. Her chubby arms are raised, legs extended. Donnie turns and grins brightly at April, automatically bringing Priya to his chest, settling a supportive hand under her legs. "It appears this child has an affinity for flying!" Donnie proclaims, jostling her as gently as he can in excitement, earning another giggle. His grin gets bigger.

April has one arm over her chest, the knuckles of the other pressed to cover up the growing smile, eyes crinkled behind her glasses.

"Goes after her new turtle buddy Tello." She quips, unable to keep the joy out of her voice. Donnie gives her a look, before a spectacular idea strikes him. "Elated gasp! You are completely right, my dear April! To further this interest, I must show her the beauty of actual aviation travel!" With a flick of his wrist, his jetpack pops up from his battle shell, purple propellers whirring to life.

"Oh hell no." April immediately denies in her most authoritative voice, which he completely ignores. But as he's lifted off the ground, Priya shrieks once more, clutching to his arm in fear. And that knocks some sense into him.

"Crap, yeah, no, bad idea." Donnie realizes in alarm, setting them both on the floor safely and making the propellers disappear. "Too soon, right? Sorry, I tend to get ahead of myself sometimes. Please don't cry?" Feeling helpless, he thinks back to the faint memories he has of being in his father's lap after a particularly bad day, and gently rocks her back and forth. Her scared sounds quiet down almost immediately.

"Wow." He looks up to see April blink at him, impressed. "You might be better at this than I am."

Donnie feels a swell of pride and embarrassment, which he rushes to cover. "Well, I am generally considered a genius. Being better than everyone is in the name."

She grins at him sharply. "Consider yourself lucky you're holding a baby and therefore an unviable target for a punch."

He chuckles, before he feels a tug. He looks down to see that Priya has one of his mask tails in her grip, her fingers smoothing over the silky material. His fault for putting on his longer bandana this morning.

"Admit it." April wheedles in an annoying, sing-song voice. "It's not that bad, is it?"

Donnie rolls his eyes, but smiles when Priya coos happily once more. "Yes, it's not that bad."

----

Thank you for the ask! Happy Halloween and a very Happy Diwali to everyone!

(i am only doing post-halloween trick or treats till nov 3)

[blackjackkent]

It definitely takes about half an hour or so before Rakha makes her way over to Lae'zel's tent. The business with Vlaakith rattled everyone, and even though Lae'zel reached out to Rakha for her opinion and support without prompting, Rakha is still pretty deep in the depths of post-Bhaalspawn-Reveal self-loathing and isn't sure she really has any right to get involved.

I think it's probably Wyll, in the end, who encourages her to go see how Lae'zel is doing. (Truly, I wonder what exactly he makes of his girlfriend's odd situationship with the young gith, but Wyll is a smart cookie and a good dude, and I think he recognizes that ultimately there's no romantic threat remaining there (at least from Rakha's side), just 1415134135 other weird and complicated emotions instead.)

"It is done. There is no going back. As long as the Undying Queen reigns, I am never to soar unbound over the Astral Sea, never to cross the One in the Void. As it should be - better a short life built on truth than immortality woven of lies. Better to unite the githyanki under a prince who would free their minds and honor their bodies."

"So why do I feel so... bitter?"

Poor Lae'zel. :(

There are a couple of available checks here (insight, or poking around with the worm) to figure out exactly what's going through Lae'zel's head in this moment - the grief she feels for the life she is abandoning. Hector passed this, and it was a sweet little bonding moment for him and Lae'zel and really formulated, I think, a lot of their relationship after.

Rakha, though... is just not that insightful and barely even knows what's going on in her own head, let alone Lae'zel's.

"I can't explain how you feel, Lae'zel," she says quietly.

"Chk." Lae'zel shrugs, as if it doesn't matter. "Then the feeling will fade like Vlaakith's craven projection. I am her child no more; I have been born anew in Gith's son, my savior. And so from the old battle cries is birthed another - ch'mar, zal'a Orpheus! Mha stil'na forjun inyeri!" Her jaw sets with renewed determination. "Orpheus's will above all. May the Comet blaze my path forward."

Rakha nods cautiously. "What next?" she asks.

"We find Voss at Sharess's Caress and retrieve the key to releasing the prince," Lae'zel says firmly. "Orpheus tavki na'zin!"

Which is all well and good, Rakha reflects as she turns and trudges away. Certainly it is the right step for Lae'zel to turn from Vlaakith, just as surely as Rakha needs to find a way to shed the ties that bind her to Bhaal. And yet...

The Astral worm still sits in Rakha's head, bringing her power and some measure of ephemeral peace. The Absolute still waits in the distance, and the Emperor's control over Orpheus is the only thing that protects them from it. These things, and Lae'zel's new crusade as a child of the Comet, cannot coexist.

Rakha said she would stand with Lae'zel against Vlaakith, and she meant it. But she's not entirely sure she can stand with Lae'zel for Orpheus. And she has no idea where that will leave them, in the end.

[lunarosewood23]

28 Days of Love #2: Familial

A next gen story. Talk of adoption. Post Endwalker: Charibert and Yotsuyu have a Conversation:tm:.

AKA: How to ask your partner of over 5 years if she wants kids while trying to not admit that you’ve gotten attached to a darling little girl that barreled head first into your legs at work. A guide by Charibert Cross.

Or: An excuse to finally finish an old FFXIVWrite prompt from 2021...

Previous post!

Prompt List!

~~~

Charibert sighed as he walked into the cottage he shared with Yotsuyu and sank to the floor as he thumped his head against the door. The day may not have been long, but by the Fury...

That little girl who bolted to him of all gods damned people, even though his sister was right there, begging to not be taken away again.

He sighed as he clasped his hands in prayer, asking for guidance and strength to talk to his partner about possibly taking her in, even if just for a short time. 

He must’ve sat there for longer than he planned when he felt slightly chilly hands gently unclasp his only to intertwine their fingers, her nails a simple red compared to the softer pink with lighter star rubies that his own were.

“I’m glad to see you home, but did something happen that caused you to be home so early?” Yotsuyu asked.

He opened his mouth to speak but realized that a lump had formed in his throat. Where was he even supposed to begin with this?

Ugh he wished he had poked Raven for help about this...

"There was...I’m not entirely sure where to begin really."

Yotsuyu gave him a small smile as she stood before holding her hands out for him to take, marveling at the way the purple and white of her skirt moved. "How about at the beginning, perhaps over tea? I was about to brew some for myself when I saw you by the door."

"That would be wonderful, thank you." He replied as he took her hands. "May I try the blend your parents sent?"

"I had been thinking the same. They sent a jasmine tea earlier this sennight that I enjoy." She offered.

He smiled as she set to work with the kettle, watching her for a second before walking up to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, his embrace warm but loose to where she could shrug him off if she wished.

"I love you."

"I love you too my dear." She replied, leaning into his embrace and breathing him in, the smell of fire and incense. She knew something was wrong and she turned to look at him properly. "Nervous is not a good look for you huǒ hè, what happened today?"

Charibert took a breath as he hugged her tighter. "Raven had asked me to help with a possible arson case. We did a sweep through of the area and while taking a break...it turned out there was a survivor. A child, barely four summers."

"Oh no..." She breathed as she reached up to gently rub his back. "She is a little older than you were, correct?"

He nodded slowly as they sat down. "I want to help her. However I don't want to do so if that's not something you want to do as well. My heart may be hurting for her but I don’t want to spring this on you without warning."

She blinked but soon let out a sigh. She knew he was attached already just from what she knew of his background.

"That's quite a few words for saying you wish to adopt the girl." She mused.

She couldn’t help but softly giggle at the shocked expression on his face that she knows he will deny making.

"N-not adopt her! I..." He tried to say, but he knew she knew he wasn't fooling her. "I'd like to, if nothing else, allow her to stay here until we find relatives or a better home for her. But as I said, if you don’t want to then that's the end of it. I promise."

He looked away from her, he knew he was making a mess of this. He should've known better.

There are many reasons I shouldn't be around children, this being one, minor as it is compared to my horrific war crimes. The second I get attached I will be told no and I won't make her take a responsibility she didn't ask for.

"Chari, darling, breathe." Yotsuyu commands softly in her lovely voice as she takes one of his hands to hold soothingly. When he does she smiles at him. "If I may be honest with you, I don't know if I'm actually ready for parenting. Babysitting our nieces and nephews is one thing, but actually raising a child...it is not something I believe I am capable of, considering everything."

"I understand. Believe me, I'm terrified as well. But if that's how you feel I won't-" He replied seriously as his face fell but she put a finger to his lips.

"Let me finish huǒ hè." She chided. "I do not believe I am capable of being a parent. However, I wouldn't be opposed to keeping her here temporarily. I can tell you are already attached to her, and something tells me she is already attached to you."

His eyes went wide, and she's charmed by how she's able to render him speechless. "Where is she?"

"At Raven’s. I told her I needed to talk to you first. As I said, I refuse to just drop something like this in your lap without warning. She said that she's due to have her child any day now, and...the girl kind of ran full speed at me and knocked me down."

"Well at least you weren't wearing your heeled sabotends today..." Yotsuyu muttered more to herself.

"Hey!" He yelped, though it came out more as a laugh.

"Am I wrong?" She shot back with a laugh. He pouted and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Let me change and get a coat."

[chuckbass-love]

Back Door Adventure | Ransom Drysdale

A/N: So guys, this was originally a request i had received but seeing as i got one of the prompts wrong, i’ve had to post it as a regular fic, and i am now having to re write the request. So you’ll get another piece from me in the next couple days or week hopefully.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ransom chose to give you space to study, but when he can’t hold himself back any longer, your reunion leads the two of you back to the bedroom.

Warnings: Smut and fluff galore! Anal fingering and oral, vaginal oral and fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, swearing, rough sex, degradation slightly and praise kink. 18+ all round folks. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7,070

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @whenescapingdinosaurs​ go check them out🥰

It’s been a long night, tossing and turning with the Egyptian cotton sheets wrapped around you, covering your modesty. Not that you have a reason for your body to be so hidden away, you’re just more comfortable and warm under these soft sheets.

Still, you can’t help but wonder if you’d even have a choice if Ransom were here. The feel of his large hands on your skin is still very much present, you can’t escape him and you’re not sure you would want to if you could.

He’d more than likely rip the covers from your skin, desperate to see every beautiful exposed inch of you, wanting nothing more than to worship you like the goddess he always reminds you that you are.

It’s been two whole days without his touch, two whole days of forcing yourself to enjoy the time away from him despite knowing yourself better, despite knowing that living without him is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Even if it is only temporary and short lived. Even if it’s just for a week.

But it’s all for your own good, you’ve been working yourself into a frenzy with your late night study periods and staying up until all hours completing assignments. And sure, the space has done you the world of good, you’ve submitted two assignments earlier than the deadline and now only one remains, but since that isn’t due for another month, you can afford to slack off a little.

Failing to drift off into a nice deep sleep, you decide to take yourself downstairs to get a drink, perhaps that’ll help.

Dressed in nothing but Ransom’s tatty old blue sweater, you lift up onto your tip toes to reach the top cupboard to retrieve a glass. You fill it to the halfway point before turning the tap off and gulping it down.

Immediately you feel the dryness in your throat easing as the cold water slides down your throat.

Once you finish, you place the now empty glass in the sink before turning on your heels to head back up, but before you can, something catches your eye.

A light shining through the window.

You curiously take a couple steps toward it, moving the blinds to get a better peak but the light soon fades and you’re left squinting to see where it came from.

Not even a minute later, you hear a noise coming from the front door and as you edge closer to it, you realise someone is messing with the lock but before you can even panic about who it could be, the door opens to reveal Ransom.

He’s standing there, all 6ft of him, perfectly brooding and handsome, just the way you like him. Exactly what you fell in love with.

His hands move to the lapels of his infamous brown coat so slowly as if he’s not even aware of your presence in the doorway to the lounge. You watch in silence, admiring him as he hangs the coat on the hook before it’s interrupted as he turns, his eyes landing on you.

Blue orbs gleam with adoration as they scan you head to toe and the second his tongue pokes out momentarily to wet his delicious plump pink lips, you lose all ability to remain calm. Your feet slide across the floor as you run to him, his large and intimidating hands lift you and you wrap your legs around his toned torso, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Missed me, doll?” he rasps, alerting you of the fact that he more than likely just woke up. Or maybe he didn’t even sleep. Maybe he struggled to without your presence.

“Always” you murmur, feeling tears prick at your eyes as you cling to him for dear life, not wanting him to leave ever again.

Before Ransom, you spent way too much time laughing at couples like this, couples that lived in one another’s pockets. But now, you’re one half of a couple like that and you love every overly affectionate second of being involved. He’s heaven in human form, all wrapped up in slacks and cable-knits, with issues of being territorial and possessive when it comes to you.

“Missed you too, god, i’ve barely slept” he pulls you away from his neck, his eyes noticing the way your eyes have turned puffy from the tears, and yours are noticing the bags under his, proof of no sleep.

“Don’t ever leave again, please. Or if you do, take me with you” you plead, sarcasm with all the meaning of you needing verbal reassurance.

Suddenly, he’s sitting down on your couch, with you in his arms as his index finger tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb dusting over your bottom lip momentarily, almost like he’s familiarising himself with the curve of it before reintroducing his lips to yours.

Two days. That’s all it was. But it was two days of feeling like half of your heart was no longer inside of you, instead it was in a bachelor pad across town, inside a man that was no longer within reach.

Sure, you could have driven to him but he had given you strict instructions. For you to focus on your work. He was only distracting you, not that you were ever going to complain, but he had to draw the line, be the mature one and allow you to do what was expected of you.

Your family are quite the ambitious bunch, and although they don’t care much for Ransom, he still felt it was his duty to show them he’s not all bad by pushing you to get your degree.

“I didn��t think i’d struggle as much as i did” he admits, his hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, pulling you forward gently, your foreheads touching slightly as you gaze lovingly into each others eyes. Lips inches away from meeting.

And just like that, his lips are capturing yours in a soon to be bruising and firework inducing kiss. The kind of kiss that young women read about in romance novels and dream of, the kind of kiss in movies. You know, that ending scene where the couple finally get together, the kiss following an admission of love. Except the only difference is yourself and Ransom are already aware of the love you both feel, it’s abundantly clear. No one can ever deny its presence.

“Me neither, you’re stuck with me for life, Drysdale”

His chuckle fills the room, sending your heart fluttering away as you fall in love with him all over again for the millionth time since the moment you first laid your innocent eyes upon him.

“I’ve missed you too much to even put into words” his usual stoic self always seems to dissipate whenever you’re within such close proximity, it’s as if with you, he struggles to keep his school boy like laughter at bay and his love sick puppy dog eyes out of view. You bring out this whole other side of him, a side reserved just for you.

It’s grumpy meets sunshine, and your sunshine turns him into this unrecognisable man. When it comes to you he’s addicted, you’re a drug that no rehab could ever fix. Not that he’d accept any kind of help anyway.

“How much?” you smirk, causing him to do the same as he moves your hair out of your face again, wanting to see every inch of you, wanting nothing to block the connection his eyes are finding in yours. The unyielding stare that causes your pussy to clench around nothing and your stomach to welcome the whole fucking zoo inside. He does crazy things to your body, things you hadn’t thought possible.

“How about i show you?” he proposes, standing up with you in his arms, your eyes searching his for answers as he carries you to the bedroom. Almost like he’s doing it in one smooth move, but in reality, you barely felt him move at all because you were too busy being so sickeningly in love with the man holding you.

As soon as you’re back collides with the sheets once again, Ransom backs up, skilled fingers fiddling with the belt on his slacks before it lands on the floor, the metal creating a heavy thud.

Your eyes speak for you, questioning him as he stands before you, his eyes now dark and hungry.

Long legs carry him to the bed where he lies down at the top with you at the foot, his head resting against the head board but as you stay silent looking at him, brows furrowed, he adjusts the pillows.

“Come here” he says, craning his finger, demanding that you do as you’re told for once. But then again, you’ve never been one to follow daddy’s orders with ease, it’s always been in your nature to call for punishment. That must be the sadist in you, and the submissive nature you’ve always carried within yourself.

It just took one hell of a man to lure it out, and that man, to no surprise, was Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

“Why?” you ask, not phased at all or at least, you’re hoping that’s how you’re coming across right now.

“Just listen, for once. Please” he begs, exasperated.

“But why?” you tease, lips curling into a smirk but across from you, there’s nothing but a straight faced, brooding rich boy.

“Come sit on my face, let me show you how much i missed you” now his tone has changed, from demanding and dominant to soft and sweet. His voice could ruin you in seconds if you allowed it to but for now you’ll settle for his tongue. Not much of a consolation prize though, more of a 1st place trophy.

And soon, he’ll have you screaming his praises just to prove it.

You scurry over to him, not wanting to wait another minute or even a second to receive the one thing you’ve dreamt of for two nights running and even during the day too. It’s been hard, the aching between your thighs calling out to Ransom with no response, and now he’ll finally be able to relieve, in the best way possible. The only way he knows how.

You move up his body, shimmying your own until your drenched pussy is directly above his face. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he begins to lick his lips in hunger.

“So beautiful, baby girl” his fingers reach to glide over your puffy and needy petals delicately, making you jolt from excitement. He spreads you wide, like you’re splayed out across a dining room table, a buffet for him to feast on. It’s his own inspection of you before he tucks in.

Your body is rendering on desperation now, as you wiggle above him, soft whimpers escaping as he continues to touch you. If this isn’t you earning the gift of his mouth, then god knows what he considers ‘working for it’.

“Ran-”

“Uh-uh, doll. Patience” he dips his index finger into the pool of your arousal before smearing it all over your sex, taking his time before reaching your bundle of nerves. Shivers dance around your body at the contact and right now, you fear you won’t make it another couple seconds.

Then suddenly, a hard smack lands on your most sensitive area, causing you to jolt forward, your hands finding purchase on the headboard above.

“You should also know better by now than to call me Ransom in the bedroom. What’s my name, doll?” his eyes find yours and you bite down on your lip nervously, not wanting to make him mad, being that it’s your reunion.

“Daddy” you murmur, not loud enough though, clearly. As his hand smacks you again.

“Daddy” you say, with conviction this time, your whines sufficing for him, for now.

And that’s when his mouth attacks you, a feral man unable to contain the hunger he’s felt in your absence. Ransom Drysdale is a man who possesses many gifts but his one true talent lies within the confines of the bedroom. He knows a woman’s body better than women know it.

See, with most men, when their number is high- you know, in regards to how many women they’ve been with- it usually means they aren’t good enough or at least don’t understand what it takes to truly love a woman.

They don’t stick around long enough to learn what gets them going. But Ransom, he’s the exception. He just knows, it’s like all of those dates are what he used to figure you out. And boy, did he figure you out alright.

His lips move side to side, up and down, kissing you everywhere, except your clit. He knows the stimulation you need yet he wants to make you suffer just that little bit longer.

“God” you cry out, not giving two thoughts for your neighbours who’s sleep will deteriorate.

If there’s one thing you love about sex with Ransom at his place, it’s that his house is in the middle of a forest, it’s a little safe haven, a getaway for you. A place where you don’t have to worry about anything or anyone else, solely focusing on one another.

But for tonight, your place will have to suffice.

His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you tight and keeping you still above him. Whilst you wriggle and writhe, wanting nothing more than to ride his tongue until fireworks appear in the darkness of your eyes.

With his tongue as the force to transport you, you’re suddenly in a haze, a bubble forming around the two of you with no signs of it bursting anytime soon.

Your head tips down, your eyes stealing a glance at the man you’re feeling yourself belonging to more and more as the days fly by. But you can’t bring yourself to look away the moment his long thick lashes flicker, his dreamy orbs meeting your lovestruck eyes.

The way they twinkle with that four letter word, he feels it too, but now is not the moment to say it so for now you’ll settle for the silent exchange of them. Proof of the understanding the two of you have.

A seductive wink that you view in slow motion is the calm before the storm as he makes his way to your clit to give it the long awaited attention, knowing full well that you’ve anticipated it for quite some time.

You watch as his lips wrap around it, putting on a show for your not so innocent eyes to enjoy, setting your entire body alight.

The feeling of his tongue flicking your clit provides you with the most satisfying feeling, it fills you up, euphoria threatening to drag you under the more his skilful tongue wreaks havoc on your body.

“Oh, daddy” you breathe out, one hand gripping the headboard while the other is buried deep in his soft hair, tugging not so lightly at the strands as your hips begin to move on their own accord.

You glide across his tongue as soon as he releases your clit, his mouth hanging slack, allowing you to chase your peak for a little while until he snatches back the control by pulling you back to him forcefully. His hands too strong for you to fight.

“Now now, doll. Be a good girl and let daddy make this sweet pussy come” his mumbles vibrate against your sensitive skin, your thighs trembling as your orgasm creeps up on you.

His index finger starts to circle your puckered hole whilst his middle finger slides into your entrance with ease, your arousal assisting.

With every thrash of his tongue, every thrust of his finger, your ass starts to throb against the other, begging to be touched, begging to be loved.

Anal play has been something Ransom has been suggesting for weeks now, but you’ve always been against it, nothing has ever been able to change your mind. But right now, in your sated state, your pre orgasm buzz, you want it. And you can’t even describe why it is that you’re suddenly changing your mind.

The more his finger circles your untouched hole, the more you want him to show you how much you’ve been missing.

It’s almost as though Ransom can read your mind, as he sits up on the bed, manoeuvring you so that you’re ass is now hovering over his face instead.

Large calloused hands splay across your soft globes, squeezing ever so slightly before it turns to white knuckle force, his vice like grip on you letting you know his intentions.

“Does my filthy baby want her ass played with?” he asks, a mocking tone that makes you giggle, your ass wiggling over him like a present, one he’s already unwrapped but would gladly take from you again right now.

“Yes, daddy” you tell him, preparing yourself for his finger to make an entrance but you’re left surprised when his tongue is what makes the contact first. He points it as he circles your puckered hole with precision before pushing it into you slowly, drawing out a gasp from you.

You have no idea what to expect as you wait with bated breath for the addition of his finger but as a single digit of his enters you slowly, warming you up, you jolt, sucking in a breath whilst also attempting to relax for him.

“Now baby, relax. If we’re gonna do this, i want you to feel comfortable”

“Yes daddy” you roll your shoulders back, stretching your body out before allowing him to proceed.

And when he does, more gasps escape, you never expected it to feel this way. You read up on anal play plenty of times, mostly due to articles or videos Ransom would send you, his way of nudging for you to let him break you in, as he always liked to call it. But all the stuff you read always seemed like it would be painful the first time and of course, with only one finger, it’s hardly likely to hurt. But it’s definitely not something you ever deemed to be a pleasurable experience and yet here you are, enjoying it.

Your back arches, your groans bounce off of the walls like a ping pong ball and Ransom’s satisfied hums follow suit. In all of his years of leading that playboy lifestyle, not once did he ever have a sex life like the one he has with you. You showed him that true intimacy is the key to mind blowing sex, and you’re talking sex that shatters your world into pieces, sex that leaves your entire body reeling and sex that you crave 24/7.

It’s proof that trust, respect and true love are the key. And as for the upkeep of it, well that requires a whole lot of honesty, naked truths, and never feeling scared to tell your lover anything out of fear of judgement or abandonment.

Ransom struggled to maintain a relationship with a woman that wasn’t just sex for longer than a couple weeks at a time, he found himself getting very bored, very quickly. But then you came along, his biggest challenge yet his greatest reward.

You had drive and passion, a fiery demeanour and personality, and the looks and body of a model. Or at least in his eyes anyway. He knows all too well about your insecurities, about how you tend to put yourself down far too much for his liking. That’s also the reason why he finds himself worshipping your body whenever he can. You’re a goddess to him. And he loves you.

And that’s something he didn’t expect himself to ever say about a single woman, but with you, he knew it with everything he was, every fibre of his being was falling in love with you. It happened so quickly, he barely remembers a significant moment in time when it occurred. He just knows the moments before falling for you and after. And he doesn’t care much for the in between. Those times don’t mean a thing.

“Please” you cry out, rocking over him as his finger turns to two, slowly pumping in and out of your tight hole, while his other hands punishing grip on your hip is bound to leave you with a bruise.

“Please what, doll?” his voice gravely as he pulls his fingers out before delving back in but replacing them with his tongue.

The mix of his tongue and the loss of his fingers spur you on, your desperation to feel him so deep within your puckered hole is more intense than ever.

All of your previous worries about anal, they are long forgotten as you find yourself now begging for more.

“I want to do it” you murmur, lifting off of him and sitting down in the spot next to him on the bed, his eyes meeting yours and somehow recognising the visceral need you now possess.

Yet he still asks for that extra layer of reassurance.

“I just want you to be clear about what it is that you want to do, doll. Tell daddy”

Standing up off of the bed, you remove his blue sweater, dropping it to the floor without a second thought as you wait for him to stand.

“I want you to fuck my asshole daddy” you say, puppy dog eyes coming out to play as you bounce on the balls of your feet.

Ransom can’t quite believe his ears. For you to allow him to play with your asshole is one thing in itself but for you to want to go all the way with him and allow him to fuck your asshole, he feels happy that you trust him enough to let him do that. But he also feels a hint of fear that he’ll hurt you.

And Ransom could never live with himself if he caused you any pain or suffering, in any form.

“Are you sure princess?” his hands grasp yours as he stands too, towering above you and causing you to look up, feeling all the more dainty and delicate.

You nod your head, before confirming verbally with a simple “yes, daddy” and now that he has you naked in front of him, his needs are just as intense.

He leans down, both of his hands cupping your face gently with his thumb dusting over your bottom lip once again as his head dips. His lips capture yours in a soft yet hungry kiss, one that intensifies the more you continue with it. Without realising it, he backs you up to the wall, the coldness of it causing you to shiver a little before resuming with the kiss.

Your heads tilt to opposite sides as your tongues explore one another’s mouths, showing no signs of getting bored or giving in.

If you’re going to do this with him, you refuse to allow yourself to back out.

The feel of his fingers and tongue inside of you was like nothing that you expected, sure it felt strange but you enjoyed it, enough to want more at least. And besides, it felt strange when you lost your virginity too, with just a little pain added. And since you know Ransom will ensure you’re fully ready beforehand, how much different can losing your anal virginity be?

With little to no warning, he spins you around so that your hands rest on the wall, his feet kicking your legs further apart.

You feel him sink to his knees behind you, his large hands gliding down the backs of your thighs, caressing your skin as heat turns your pool of arousal to a fountain.

With the spread of your ass cheeks thanks to his eager hands, you prepare yourself for the return of his mouth, but still nothing can ever prepare you for the feeling of pure ecstasy that floods your body head to toe as his tongue thrashes at your puckered and inexperienced hole relentlessly.

He’s gearing you up for the rough fucking you’re about to get, making sure you can take it. But if it’s anything like your first time having sex with him, then you won’t ever be prepared and you’ll definitely struggle to take all of him. After all he is the biggest you’ve ever had.

As he continues to work your ass hole up, causing more flooding to cover your core, you find your body moving on its own accord, your ass grinding and pushing back onto his face, suffocating him for a split second before he spanks your cheeks causing you to stop.

And although you’re expecting some remark about how you shouldn’t be greedy and just take what he gives, instead you’re met with his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass cheeks. They tug you back as he buries his face deeper, groaning and humming, each noise as filthy as the last, if not more. A sign he’s enjoying himself.

The occasional spank on both cheeks earns Ransom a surprised yelp as you giggle simultaneously. You never knew something so taboo could ever feel so good the way he switches between fucking your ass with his tongue and circling it as he points the tip with precision. He knows just what he’s doing.

“Ransom”

The second the name leaves your mouth you gulp in anticipation for his reaction. Another hard smack to your already sore ass cheeks as he rises to his feet.

“What did you just call me?” his low volume voice, raspy yet intimidating as you feel his presence towering over you, your pussy clenching down around nothing. You crave him, your entire body in need of his dominant touch. You’d love nothing more than to serve him right now, submissive nature coming out to play just to earn back his good side.

“Answer me, doll” he demands, a little more of a growl, the words rolling off of his tongue effortlessly as he grows more and more impatient.

Two more smacks on your ass force you to open your mouth to speak, still you struggle.

But the words slowly find their way to your lips “i called you Ransom”

Another smack.

“And is that my name?” his voice, so quiet, so deep and threatening, yet so sexual and arousing. It’s like you know you should be running for the hills yet your feet remain planted into the ground, refusing to let you go. Your body needs him like you need the air you breathe. It’s vital.

If you were to ever leave, heaven forbid, he’d track you down. He’d never let you escape.

“No” you choke out, listening to the sound of his zipper sliding down, followed by the sound of him kicking his slacks to the side, discarding them entirely.

And now you know his hand is wrapped around his cock.

“And just what is my name, princess? Hm?” his fingers slowly graze your hips, dusting over them ever so slightly, and if it weren’t for you glancing down to watch, you would never know for sure if he was actually touching you or if you were dreaming.

“D-daddy” you stutter out pathetically, your own impatience growing more and more as his torture continues.

“Good” he says, proudly, followed by what feels like a second long pause before he’s spinning around and forcing you to your knees “now suck this cock and make daddy proud”

Without missing a beat, you wrap one hand around his impressive size, barely managing to fit his entire girth in your palm but nevertheless, you comply as best as you can. Your tongue pokes out to rid him of the pre-ejaculate that has leaked out a little, making sure to revel in the taste of him before getting right to it.

His bulbous head fills your mouth as you suck, working each inch in, slowly but surely. Your tongue flat against the underside of his length, your hands halting in pumping whatever is left of him as your mouth covers it eventually.

Lashes flickering upward as your eyes meet his, you watch as his hands tangle in your hair, pulling lightly on the strands. But the more pleasure that your mouth brings him, the tighter he tugs. And although the pain he’s inflicting on your scalp is too much to bare, you don’t speak up as the pool between your legs as well as his moans are enough for you to forget about it.

He tugs on your hair, you wince, you suck his cock better, the ache grows more and it repeats.

More growls and groans escape, his endless purrs of “doing so well” and “atta girl” fill the silence. Hips thrusting, his way of forcing you to take his size like a good girl.

Although you’re gag reflex is usually semi-decent, right now it’s practically non existent but neither one of you minds that as you power through, your saliva coating his cock heavily.

However, just as you find a steady flow, Ransom reaches down to grab your left arm, tugging you up aggressively, giving you no choice but to comply.

His mouth finds yours in a rushed teeth clicking kiss, your lips merging as one as your tongues barely even meet for a second before you find your breasts pushed up against the wall, your hands splayed out just above your head.

Shivers roll down your spine, goosebumps forming in their wake as he trails his hand down your back before stopping at your tailbone, the spot just above your ass.

“Been waiting so long for this moment, doll” his voice is proud, his words appreciative. He knows anal was a hard limit or you, something you always wrote off without a second thought. So for you to want to try it, to give it a go at least, it’s something he knows is as big for you as it is for him.

Even the feeling of your body enjoying the way his mouth and fingers pleasured you previously, was more than enough progress for him. And hearing you say you wanted his cock too, Ransom felt like all of his Birthday’s and Christmases had come at once.

He definitely feels spoiled to say the least.

His breath fans your neck as he leans in closer to move your hair out of your face for you, and just the feel of his breath alone causes the pulse in your clit to go wild. The throb of it drives you borderline feral, you need his attention on your body...right there.

The sound of him spitting down on his cock, followed by the squelch of him using it to pump his thick member, gets you excited but the fear of what you’re about to do finally hits you as soon as you feel his tip pushing at your forbidden area.

He smacks it with his cock a couple times before moving it to your pussy, briefly.

Sliding home with the assistance of your arousal, your eyes roll back at the return of him. Your walls flutter as they stretch to accommodate, you even find yourself pushing back, impaling yourself on his length but that’s when he pulls out. A feeling of emptiness filling you instead.

Barely allowing you time to breathe, his tip catches on your puckered hole as he pushes in, trying his hardest to ease you into it without making you feel uncomfortable.

You feel his face so close to your neck that his breath fans you once again, his hands gripping your ass cheeks, parting them as you feel him look down. His forehead resting on your upper back after kissing it faintly.

Ransom sucks in a breath as he watches his cock disappear further into your tight hole, his breathing ragged.

“God, if only you could see this for yourself” he rasps, voice barely audible as he groans “so fucking pretty” his lips meet your now exposed neck as he whispers words of encouragement for you, praising you on how well you’re doing.

“So fucking proud of you” he tells you “doing so fucking well, doll, taking that cock like a good girl. My good fucking girl” his words make your pussy throb and you long to feel his touch there.

And as though he’s gifted with the ability to mind read, he snakes a hand around your waist, his hand making it’s way to your bundle of nerves. Once it makes the contact, your body jerks, your puffy folds loving every second.

“Goddamn you, why do you feel so fucking good, goddamn you” his moans are strained as he pushes further inside, the low guttural sounds elevating you.

You poke your ass out, impaling yourself further on his cock, the feel of him in your ass is like no other, you didn’t expect to like it this much, for it to make your eyes roll into the back of your head the way it has. But it has and you do like it, in fact no, you love it.

It’s a whole new feeling of being full, his one hand rubbing at your pussy torturously slow, while the other smacks down on your ass cheeks occasionally. It only adds to the pleasure. All of it building, setting you up for your impending orgasm.

“I love it, i love it so much” you cry out, wishing for this to continue until the end of time. It feels too good, and now you know why anal is popular amongst a lot of women, it’s a brand new experience that you could really get used to having.

This might just be your new favourite thing.

“Yeah? Is my perfect girl enjoying daddy’s cock in her tight. Little. Ass?” his thrusts turn hard as he speaks those last words, as all of him fills all of you, right to the brim.

Tears drown out your vision, your body limp as you take whatever he has to give you, gratefully of course.

“Answer me” a hard smack to each of your ass cheeks one after the other breaks you from your daze “yes, yes i’m enjoying it” tears roll down your face as you blink before Ransom kisses them away.

He grips your chin to turn you so that you’re looking at him.

“Look at you, such a beautiful sight, doll” his kisses pepper across your jawline, down to your neck and then back up over your cheeks and to your forehead before finally settling on your lips.

The kiss is slow, passionate and filled with the love he has for you. And you love the feeling of his tongue fighting yours, the feel of his hands on you and the feel of him inside of you. You cannot get enough of him, he’s an addiction you refuse to kick.

“Love the way you feel, so warm, so tight” he tells you, his lips diving in for another round. The kiss is frantic with mini pauses as he snaps his hips, fucking you with a pace that could only be described as animalistic.

One you welcome with open arms, despite not being used to his size in your forbidden hole.

Ransom could never even begin to describe that first feel of your asshole around his cock, the first time he was properly seated to the hilt inside of you, so warm, so tight, so goddamn perfect. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body was immediately under your spell and in that moment as well as now, he was prepared to surrender to you, let you take full control of the situation. But there’s just something even better about you surrendering all control and handing your body to him for him to take care of.

It’s the level of trust you have in him, it turns him on. Your willingness too.

And if he’s being completely honest here, he’s really struggling not to blow his load earlier than he initially hoped. Hence why he’s only just going quicker, pounding into your ass and stretching it to fit him nicely.

He throws his head back, running his hand through his hair as he holds onto the last bit of his restraint. But as his eyes land on the mirror at the other side of your bedroom, he feels it slipping away more.

He pulls out of you so suddenly that you whimper and beg for him again, turning around to face him whilst making grabby hands lazily like a school girl.

His hands tug you with such ease as though to him, you don’t weight a thing. And when he positions you in front of the mirror, your eyes meet his as he stands behind you. They tell you everything that you need to know, they answer every question that runs through your mind.

And he doesn’t plan on wasting time, this much is true. It’s in the way he pushes you forward, making you plant your hands to the wall either side of the mirror as he pushes back into your ass. A little force needed but not as much as the first entrance required.

"I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me" his mouth is right by your ear, your earlobe within his tongues proximity, and as he sticks it out to lick the spot just beneath it, you find yourself wishing he would just devour your entire body all at once right now.

He leans closer, hands on your soon to be bruised hips as he digs his nails in deep, leaving crescent moons in their wake when he moves to them your ass, spreading your cheeks until he’s fully comfortable inside of you. You watch him intently as he slowly picks up the pace, until before you know it, his one hand is in your hair, tugging your head back as you arch for him.

Your hand reaches back, resting on his v-line, your mouth hanging open even further until his thrusts turn downright punishing and your jaw is practically on the floor.

Sinful and loud music escapes, spurring him on as he spews his pure filth, growling like a real animal, a man possessed. But this is what you turn him into. Feral.

“Such a filthy fucking girl for daddy” he grunts, squeezing a handful of your soft globe before punishing it, no holds barred here.

The tears streaming down your face, pleasure induced. The quiver of your legs, cock induced. The feeling of fullness and happiness in abundance, love induced.

This night is everything and more.

“I-i’m gonna come” your words come out as a stutter, his vigorous body pressing against yours hard.

The faint smell of sex in the air, arousing you further as his hand returns to your bundle of nerves, rubbing ferociously at it, stimulating you in every way he possibly can. His mouth like the devil, dragging you down to hell, his cock punching your g-spot, pushing you to that cliff edge, and his hand playing you like an instrument, strumming with no sign of slowing down. It’s the unholy trinity of pleasure.

“Come for me, doll. Give it to me, i want it” he slides his index and middle finger inside of your pussy, curling against your walls delicately and scissoring you open. Giving you that final push as your eyes meet his once more in the mirror.

And with that, you allow yourself to let go. Your body no longer tense but relaxed and free as you close your eyes, really transporting yourself into another dimension thanks to Ransom. His one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright as he feels your legs shaking against his own.

The sensation of your asshole clenching and pussy walls fluttering, he feels his own orgasm pouring down on him like rainfall. Intense and heavy. His body shuddering.

His thrusts slow as you press your hands on top of his as they rest on your torso, digging in slightly.

And it’s now clear that, that orgasm was the biggest one he’s ever had with you and that alone fills you with so much serotonin that you don’t ever want to come down from this high that he provides for you.

“I love you” his breathing frantic and heavy as he pulls you back to him again, if that’s even possible.

“I love you too, Ransom” you coo, his lips meet your cheek in an affectionate manor, reassuring you that you are quite literally his entire world.

How did you manage to get so lucky? You have no idea, but who would you be to question him?

All you can do is appreciate the fact that he’s in your life and the love you share for one another is real and imperfectly perfect.

----------------------------------------

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[weelittleweasley]

meet the wealseys (f.w.)

prompt: you met fred at the joke shoppe when you had first arrived from america. after dating for a little while, he asks you to come and meet his family. needless to say, your visit to the burrow was one you’ll never forget.

pairing: post war! fred weasley x fem! american! reader

warnings: mention of the war and death, food and eating

word count: 6.4k

Diagon Alley was much different than what you had pictured, but in the best way possible. The tight quarters were packed with people as you pushed through, looking at the different store fronts, seeing how each one was uniquely different and magical. This was not what you were used to in the States, but you knew that you would become adjusted very soon. The hustle and bustle was refreshing and exciting for a young girl starting a new life abroad. As you continued to stroll along the alley, people called out to each other, exchanging sickles and galleons for merchandise, laughing and hugging each other, poking a smile onto your face. There were many stores to choose from, but you kept your eyes peeled for a store front that jumped out at you.

It didn’t take long for that to happen.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the banner clearly spelt out with a animatronic person, tilting his hat up. Number 93 Diagon Alley. 

Your curiosity stirred inside of you as you shrugged and pushed the front door open. Sounded interesting enough. As you entered the shoppe, you were instantly greeted with screaming children, things zooming past you, and so many colors. The shoppe itself radiated childhood joy which made your heart soar with excitement.

Walking through out the store, you quickly realized that this was a joke shoppe with countless amounts of products. Ones that you were familiar with and others that you had never heard of. You laughed to yourself as you saw Dungbombs and U-No-Poos. “Clever,” you spoke to yourself as you continued to walk through the aisles of the stores. Whomever started this joke shoppe clearly had an affinity for their childhood and having fun; something you could gladly get on board with.

As you walked around, you saw how excited everyone was in the store. It was full of life and nostalgia and joy. There was laughter, smiles, and cheering; how could one not love it here? The store’s energy itself made you want to stay forever. As if England couldn’t get any better.

You filed through the shelves, shuffling through brightly colored packaging and funny titled products that brought glee to your face. Maybe you could purchase a few things and send some of them home back to your family and friends in America. They would get a kick out of these. Slowly, you had accumulated a pile of toys and such in your arms. I must look out of my mind, you think to yourself. A 20 year old girl by herself in a joke shoppe, carrying poop themed jokes. 

 “Need a basket?” a voice calls from behind you as you flip around. Standing there was a tall, well dressed man with flaming red hair gelled swiftly away from his face as he smiled at you. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and comforting and his smile was enough to have you weak in the knees. “Seems like you got your hands full,” he speaks before ducking his right eye down in a cheeky wink.

His forwardness took you by shock. You stammered for a second before finally speaking, “Yeah, sure, thank you.” He hands you a basket that you dump all of the products in. “I appreciate it, thanks,” you smile back at him.

The red haired gentleman speaks, “It’s my job. Literally.” You chuckle lightly, nodding your head, realizing he was the owner of the shoppe. The uniform, the proud badge he wore on his suit jacket, the amount of confidence he exuded. It made sense. “You’ve got a fine selection of products in your basket, I must admit,” he smiles, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Some of our bestsellers.”

You smile back at him, tilting your head, trying to get a read on him. Was he trying to flirt? Or was he just trying to make a sale? “I suppose that’s why I’m buying them. Although, not all of them are for me, I must admit,” you sigh. “I’m sending some to my family back home. Figured my brother will like it.”

The owner nods his head, “Ah, yes. Nothing a brother loves more than poop themed pranks. What a brilliant sister you are,” he winks as you lightly chuckle. “I figure home is the States for you?” he asks as you furrow your brows, wondering how he knew. “Your accent. It’s pretty recognizable,” he laughs as you roll your eyes. “What brings you to London?”

At first, you hesitated sharing your story with a business owner of a joke shoppe that you had just met. But there was something about him that made you want to trust him. “I graduated from Ilvermorny four years ago. I decided I wanted to move out of the States to find other work to see if there were more job opportunities here. I moved here about a month or two ago,” you tell the flame haired man who leaned against the wall, listening to you intently as his eyes darted from your eyes to your body, quite obviously checking you out. You gulp when his eyes meet yours with a smirk on his face. Within an instant, you decide to play his game. “Besides, there are cuter men in London.”

He chuckles at your joke and nods his head. “Understandable. Seems like you moved for very important reasons,” he replies as you blush. “Can I check you out?”

You freeze. “Can you what?”

The gentleman laughs at your surprise. “Your merchandise? Can I ring you up?” he clarifies as you exhale a breath with a blush, lightly laughing before nodding. “Brilliant...besides, I’ve been checking you out since you walked into the store,” he simply states before leading the way to the cash register. Your heart stops as your mouth runs dry. At least he was honest. “I didn’t get your name,” he speaks as he ducks behind the counter, taking your basket and ringing up your things. “I’m Fred.”

Fred. The name suited him. You smile, “(Y/N),” you speak, extending you hand to shake his as he does so with a smirk on his lips. “The shoppe is really amazing. You must be proud of it,” you praise him as he smiles proudly.

“We are,” he speaks as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “My brother and I run the shoppe together. He’s my twin,” he reveals.

“Twin?” you clarify.

“Yeah, twin. Georgie!” Fred calls out into the shoppe. 

Suddenly, from behind a stack of boxes pops out a figure identical to Fred. “Good God,” you breathe out. The twin, now known as George, walks over to Fred as Fred slings an arm around his brother. As they stand next to each other, you realize just how identical they were. The only way telling them apart was the color of the shirt they wore. This would surely be trouble.

“George, this is (Y/N). She recently moved here from America,” Fred tells George who smiles widely at you, extending his hand to shake yours as you gladly accept it. “(Y/N), this is George, my twin.”

With a large smile, you speak to George, “Pleasure to meet you. I see where Fred gets his handsome looks from,” you joke around, making George laugh wildly.

“Oh, you’re brilliant. I like you already,” George beams before nudging his brother with a knowing look. Fred gave his brother a shove as George smirked at him, knowing exactly what was going on here. Unbeknownst to you. “Well, I hope this isn’t the last I see of you, (Y/N). I’ve got to go restock some shelves, but don’t be a stranger,” George tells you, very friendly for just having met each other. 

And just as quickly as he came, he’s gone, disappearing behind boxes. “He seems lovely,” you tell Fred who rolls his eyes, making you giggle. 

Fred shakes his head, “Ball breaker,” he huffs. “But he’s my brother. Gotta love him,” he smiles. “That’ll be three galleons,” he chimes. You look at him puzzled. There was enough merchandise there to be well over ten galleons, but he was only charging you three. But before you can protest, Fred speaks, “The new girl discount,” he winks as you smile at him gratefully before handing him three galleons. “I hope your brother enjoys his things.”

You look up at Fred and gulp. The fact that this complete stranger had you at a loss of words was beyond you. “I’m sure he’ll love them,” you speak honestly as Fred smiles softly. “I hope this isn’t the last time we see each other, Fred,” you reveal to him honestly. There was something about Fred that made you want to be around him. The life he had inside of him was enticing and exciting; he was different than other men you have met in London. 

Looking into your eyes, Fred gulps before speaking, “I’m sure it won’t be. In fact, since you’re still new to London, maybe I could show you around this weekend? I know a few good spots in the area. You know, since I’m a local.” 

His words make a grin appear on your lips as you nod your head, “That sounds really nice, Fred. I’d like that.”

“Wicked,” Fred breathes out as you giggle. “Saturday? We can make a day of it? We’ll meet here and I’ll give you a very comprehensive tour,” he wiggles his brows as you smile with a nod. “Until then, (Y/N).”

You give Fred a small wave goodbye before exiting the joke shoppe with two bags full of pranks and toys. And now a date for Saturday.

--------------------

“Fred, let’s get a move on! The shop opens in twenty and it’s new release day!” George yells from outside the bedroom door as Fred groan, cuddling further into your chest as you rub his back. “(Y/N)! Stop distracting my git brother!”

You chuckle as Fred calls back out, “Leave her out of this, you wanker! I’ll be ready in five!” George groans from outside of the door before you hear his footsteps disappear into the kitchen. Fred looks up at you as he lays on your chest, you brushing his floppy red hair out of his eyes. “I guess that’s my cue,” Fred huffs before peeling himself off you, rubbing his face with a groan.

It had been three months since you had met Fred that day in the joke shoppe. Three months since he had flirted with you and you had gone out on your first date. There was undeniable chemistry between you and Freddie. He adored how you loved to joke around, not taking yourself or anything too seriously. He adored that way you looked around London with such wonder and curiosity with wide eyes and smile. Fred loved the way you threw your head back with you laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. Fred loved when you bit back a smile when you teased him before giving in and falling into a fit of giggles. Fred was smitten with you and you him. You adored his confidence and professionalism, but you adored even more the way he could act like a fool at the drop of a hat. Fred was childlike in the best way possible. He was a breath of fresh air. He was what you needed when you moved here.

“Oh, come on, Freddie,” you sit up in the bed, Fred’s large t-shirt draped over your body. “It’s new release day! That should be loads of fun! Besides, after the work day is over, you know I’ll be waiting for you,” you kiss his shoulder blade. You worked just up the road at the Apothecary, so it was easy for Fred to run over and see you on his lunch break. That was Fred’s favorite part of the day. He secretly wished that you didn’t get another job, so he could easily run over on those lunch breaks to steal a quick kiss and see your face. Even if it was for three minutes. 

Fred begrudgingly pulls on his suit pants, huffing, “I can only hope that this release goes well. George and I invested a lot into this release and if it doesn’t do well, then we’ll lose a lot.”

You give your darling a knowing look, “It won’t do poorly, Fred. You and I both know that.” Fred gives you a gentle smile as he buttons up his shirt. “Come here,” you sit up on your knees as Fred walks over the edge of the bed. You pull his tie around his neck before tying it for him, something you knew he loved. “Today is going to be a brilliant day and you are going to sell out. I feel it in my gut.”

Fred takes your chin in his fingers, forcing your gaze up to his. His eyes look into yours with adoration before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss as you smile into it. Fred’s lips move gently against yours, making your stomach sway in excitement. Kissing Fred never got old. He gently pull away from you, pushing his forehead against yours. “I love you, angel,” he coos as you blush. He pecks the tip of your nose before sighing, “I’ll stop by the apothecary around lunch to update you on how sales are going.”

With a small nod, you watch him open the bedroom door and get ready to leave. “I love you, Freddie. You’ll be great,” you call after him as he sends you a wink.

“What about me?!” George’s voice booms from the other room. 

You laugh and sigh, “You’ll be phenomenal, Georgie!”

“Hah! I got a phenomenal and you got a great, Fred! Guess (Y/N) has a favorite twin!” George teases his brother as you hear a slap and George squeal an Ouch!

“Oh, would you shut your fat mouth and get downstairs!” Fred exclaims at his brother, making you chuckle. 

The sounds of the twins banter slowly faded as they descended the stairs of the flat down to the shoppe below. You smiled to yourself as you pried yourself off of Fred’s comfortable linens and forced yourself to get ready for your own job that awaited you.

Soon enough, the lunch hour rolled around and you were finishing helping a customer purchase a bunch of ingredients for a spell. “Have a lovely day,” you chimed as you handed her a bag full of her things.

As she left the apothecary, you exhaled deeply and arched your back, stretching the kinks in your back. Standing on your feet all day really took a lot out of you. 

The bell at the front door chimed signaling that another customer had arrived. Mindlessly, you begin speaking, “Good afternoon and welcome. Is there something I can assist you w-”

You are briskly cut off by a pair of lips on yours as you instantly melt into Fred’s touch, humming gently into your embrace. Fred pulls away with a large grin on his face. “Hi, Freddie,” you speak.

“How did you know it was me and not George,” he questions you, poking at your sides. “How do you know it’s not George right now pretending to be Fred? Huh?”

In between giggles, you manage to speak, “I know my boyfriend, Fred.” Fred halts his tickling as you smile up at him. “Besides, George has a more square jaw than you do. You also have calloused finger pads from opening boxes and George doesn’t because he carries the inventory,” you recount as Fred looked at you, quite impressed that you had little tells between him and his twin brother. “Anyway, how are sales going? Business booming?”

Fred smiles widely before you jump on the counter, Fred standing in between your legs. “Better than booming. We sold out at eleven in the morning. Nearly an hour after we opened,” Fred gushes as you gasp, pulling him in for a tight hug. You weren’t surprised that the release went well; the boys knew their demographic and always knew what the people wanted. “But that’s not all the good news, my love.”

You give your boyfriend and knowing look. “Really?” you ask as he nods. “Oh, I’m scared.”

“No need to be,” he chuckles. “I called my mum to tell her the good news and she thinks a celebration is in order. She invited us, all of us, to come home for the weekend. Everyone will be home. Me, George, Ron, Percy, Ginny, Mum, Dad. I assume that Hermione and Harry’ll be there too because bloody hell it’s not home without them. Mum even said that Bill and Fleur may stop by at one point! It’ll be a mini vacation! Isn’t that brilliant?” he beams.

But instead of cheering in glee, your heart freezes. Going to Fred’s childhood home to meet his family and his friends? Not just for dinner. For the weekend. You had no idea what to expect. You knew that Fred had a large family and he spoke highly about all of them. He told you stories of his childhood and Hogwarts and he always seemed to speak of it all with such love.

It’s not that you didn’t want to meet his family, you just didn’t want to not meet their expectations that they had for Fred. From the stories Fred and George had told you, Mrs. Weasley was very protective over her children. Especially after the war. With Fred nearly dying, she was especially careful with Fred. The last thing you wanted was to make his mother disappointed in his choice of a partner and even more terrifying, you didn’t want your beloved boyfriend’s mother hate you.

“(Y/N)? You haven’t said anything? You alright?” Fred snaps you out of your thoughts as you shake your head, bringing you back to reality. “Do you want to come home and meet my family?” he excitedly asks you, taking your hands in his as he kisses the backs of them tenderly, looking up at you hopeful for your response.

You couldn’t say no. It would break Fred’s heart. Besides, you were going to have to meet them eventually. With a deep breath, you reply, “Of course I do, Freddie love.”

Fred claps his hands together, “Wicked. Oh, this is bloody brilliant. I’ll have to run back to the shoppe and ring her and tell her to make an extra place setting for tonight.” Fred looks at you, childish joy bubbling in his eyes as you sigh softly, giving him a gentle smile. The look on his face made you fall in love with him all over again. “I can’t wait for them to meet you. They’re gonna love you,” he tells you, holding your face in between his calloused hands as you smile. “Godric, I love you,” he breathes before kissing you quickly. “Okay, I’ve got to get back to the shoppe. But after you’re done with work, go pack a bag, and meet me and George back at our flat. We’ll apparate from there!” 

And with that, Fred is out of the apothecary without another word, leaving you speechless, still sitting on the counter. As you sit there, just puzzled, your co-worker notices your predicament and laughs, “Meeting the family tonight, eh?” 

“Seems like it,” you gulp. 

-----------------------

You stood nervously in the living room of the twins’ flat, overnight bag in hand as you nervously nibbled on your fingernails. George yelled things to Fred from his bedroom as the two twins chaotically packed their bags and gathered things for their weekend stay. “Do you think we should bring our own brooms?” Fred boomed from his room.

“No,” George yelled back. “The ones that are in the shed will be just fine.”

Brooms? Should you have brought a broom? Your eyes dart to Fred who emerges from his room, duffel in hand with a large smile on his face. “Should I have brought a broom?” you ask him.

Fred laughs and shakes his head. “No, all you need to bring is your beautiful, wonderful self,” he speaks, kissing your forehead. “Georgie, let’s get this show on the road!”

“Coming, coming!” George bellows before appearing from his room, backpack on with another small bag in his hand. “Would you like to do the honors?” he smiles at Fred.

“Thought you’d never ask, brother,” he beams before pulling his wand from his pocket. “Everyone ready? Got all their things?” Fred looks at George who gives him a confident nod as you feign confidence and give Fred a small smile. “Brilliant...” he trails off before with a flick of his wand and a whoosh.

And suddenly before your eyes, you are not in the flat anymore. Instead, lush green grass is beneath your feet and the smell of rosemary and thyme floats around in the air. Ahead of you stands a proud, tall house that have Fred and George grinning from ear to ear. They were home.

Within seconds, George speaks, “Last one inside carries up all the bags!”

Fred and George are instantly set in a mad dash as you roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You slowly walk behind them, carrying your bag, heart beating hard against your chest. The time was now and there was no avoiding it. 

When you reach the front entrance, George looks at you, “(Y/N)! You didn’t even try!” You laugh and shake your head. “Eh, it’s fine. We’ll force Ron to carry all the luggage upstairs,” George shrugs.

Fred appears and grabs your hand, pulling you inside with a bright smile. “Mum! Dad! We’re home!” Fred calls out before chatter starts blooming from all areas of the house, making your heart race. Fred looks at your nervous eyes and squeezes your hand. “No need to worry. I’m telling you they’re going to adore you.”

First down the stairs is Ginny, the only Weasley daughter. Her eyes land on her two other brothers as she grins widely. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she laughs before George scoops her up in a tight hug, spinning her around as they both laugh wildly. George puts her down only for Fred to do the same thing to his younger sister. “I missed you both so much. Home isn’t the same without you two,” she speaks to her brothers. 

Fred pulls his sister into his side, “We missed you too. Everyday we miss you, little.” Ginny smiles up at her brother. “Gin, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N). (Y/N), meet the littlest Weasley, Ginny.”

“I may be the littlest, but I’ll still kick both of your asses,” Ginny pushes her brother teasingly. Ginny smiles at you widely. “I’ve heard all about you. And by all about you I mean I’ve heard what Fred tells Mum who tells me,” she laughs as you smile. “Can I give you a hug?” she asks.

You smile, “Absolutely.” Ginny embraces you tightly as you smile widely. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Fred and George speak so highly of you.”

Ginny pulls away from her embrace and speaks, “They better.” You laugh. She had the same sense of humors as her brothers. “Your accent is so pretty. Well, I mean, all of you is pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Well done, Fred!” Ginny compliments, making Fred blush a deep crimson. “You could probably do much better than him, you know that?” she teases, making you laugh. You and Ginny would get along just fine.

“Alright, enough of all that,” Fred grabs your hand, pulling you away from Ginny. 

Shortly after Ginny’s arrival follows bumbling footsteps and a voice that says, “Full house already! Bill and Fleur haven’t even arrived. I’m not giving up my bed for anyone, hear me?” George immediately tackles the Weasley brother to the floor, making him cry out. “George, get the bloody hell off of me, you git!”

George laughs, “Aw, I missed you too, Won-Won!”

Fred bursts out into laughter before George climbs off of the tackled brother. “Hey, Ronald,” Fred messes up his brothers hair as Ron shakes his head with a smile. “Missed you.”

Ron smiles at his brothers, “Missed you both too. Although the tackle wasn’t appreciated.” Ron glares at George who gives him a firm pat on the back. “You must be (Y/N),” Ron smiles warmly at you extending his hand for a shake. “Really nice to meet you.”

“You too. Didn’t realize that it was customary for your brothers to attack you when returning home,” you laugh as Ron shakes his head. 

“Neither did I. Every day is a surprise here,” he huffs. “One second, pardon me,” he excuses himself. “’Mione! Fred’s girlfriend is here!” Ron calls up the stairs. “Gin and ‘Mione have been dying for another girl in the house for forever. She’ll be happy to see you.”

You smile at Ron, “Always good to have more girls. Gotta balance out the playing field.” 

As soon as you say that, who you can assume is Hermione along with another boy with jet black hair comes down the stairs, of which you can assume is Harry Potter. Ron was right about Hermione, she was over the moon to have another girl in the house. To quote her, she said, “Thank Godric. Do you know what’s it’s like living with mostly boys? Do you know how many times I’ve almost fall into the toilet because the seat was still up? Too many times, Ronald Weasley!” 

Harry on the other hand was much more soft-spoken, but equally as witty as Ron and Hermione. Again, making a comment based on how you were way out of Fred’s league. “Merlin, Fred, how do you do it?” Harry said. “(Y/N), blink once if you need help,” Harry joked, making Ron and Ginny crack up. You, of course, played along with the joke, blinking three times, making the friends laugh harder.

“Okay, okay, enough of that,” Fred pulls you away. “Percy! Mate!”

Coming from outside was who you assumed was Percy alongside Mr. Weasley. Both of them in work clothes, covered in dirt and such, from working outside. “Freddie! George!” Percy beams before engulfing his two brothers in bear hugs. The sight made your heart warm. The love that this family had for each other was enough to make you melt. “Great to see you again. You’re (Y/N), right? Lovely to meet you. So glad you could come over for the weekend!” Percy shakes your hand excitedly as you smile.

“I’m glad to be here!” you admit, now truthfully. Everyone was so lovely and warm.  Percy steps away so now Mr. Weasley could meet you. “Mr. Weasley, thank you so much for having me. I’m so delighted to meet you and your family,” you beam.

Mr. Weasley gives you the warmest smile you’ve ever seen and grabs one of your hands squeezing it. “We are even more delighted to have you as a guest in our home. Oh, and please don’t call me Mr. Weasley. Arthur is just fine,” he smiles. “Speaking of our home, where is your mother?” Arthur looks the the rest of the group as they shrug. “Molly! Your sons and their guest have arrived!!” Arthur bellows up the stairs.

Seconds later, a glowing older woman starts down the winding staircase in the middle of the home, beaming, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was making their bed with fresh sheets. Now where are my loves?” Mrs. Weasley looks at her twins and tears start to form in her eyes. “Oh, my babies!” she exclaims as Fred and George engulf their shorter mother in a tight hug. “You boys don’t come home enough. I know the business is doing great, but please come home more. We miss you dearly,” she pinches their cheeks lovingly as George kisses his mother’s cheek.

Fred starts, “We miss you, too, Mum. Always.” Mrs. Weasley smiles at her son. “Mum, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Within mere seconds, Mrs. Weasley has scooped you into a hug, squeezing you tight as you giggle at the gesture. “Oh, my dear, it’s so wonderful to meet you at last. I can’t believe Freddie was hiding you from me all this time,” she gushes before holding you at arm’s length. “Beautiful American thing you are! Goodness, Fred, well done!” Fred rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” you smile warmly at your boyfriend’s mother.

She instantly starts shaking her head, “Oh no, dear. My name is Molly. Not Mrs. Weasley. Please, I insist.” You smile at her with a small blush on your cheeks. It had only been ten minutes, but you felt more at home than ever. “You are just a peach!” she pinches your cheek. “Adorable. You hungry, dear? Cuppa tea? I have dinner in the oven. We’re having roast chicken. Freddie told me that was your favorite meal. Lucky for you, it’s the dish I’m best at,” she whispers the last part to you as you giggle.

This family was doing everything they could to make you feel at home and it was surely working. You felt like you belonged here. Molly linked your arms together, insisting you tell her everything you and Fred had been doing as a couple for the last three months as she made you a cup of tea. “Mum’s already stolen her,” George nudges his twin with a cocky smile. “Good luck trying to get her back.”

But you didn’t mind being stolen off by Molly Weasley. The woman was a delight. She was sweet, kind, and so thoughtful. Molly loved hearing the way you spoke of her son. “You speak of him like he’s the only man on this planet,” she coos as she poured you tea. 

You blush a wild shade of pink. Maybe you had to get used to blushing around the Weasley family. “He’s the only man on this planet for me,” you shrug. “Fred is a proper gentleman, Molly. Really.” Molly rolls her eyes, knowing how abrasive her own son could be. “No, seriously,” you laugh. “All of the boys that I’ve dated are all back in America, sure, but none can hold a candle to Fred. Honestly.”

Molly squeezes your hand, “And I hope it stays that way, my dear. The way that Fred speaks of you is unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him before. Hold onto each other. What you have already is worth it.”

“Thank you,” you squeeze Molly’s hand back. 

The dinner hour soon rolled around which meant the arrival of more Weasleys. As everyone was finding their seat, two more people apparated into the Burrow. “Bill!” Ron exclaimed before engulfing his brother in a hug. Bill stood tall next to a beautiful blonde haired woman who you assume to be his wife, Fleur. The couple was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Fred leaned down next to you. “That’s Bill and his wife, Fleur,” Fred confirmed your thoughts. “Fleur is part Veela. She has a...complicated relationship with my mother and Ginny. But no need to worry, that ship has sailed. She’s actually quite lovely,” Fred tells you as you nod.

Knowing that Molly Weasley didn’t instantly take a liking to everyone made you think about the initial reaction she had to you. It made you feel better how warm she was towards you, even though you wouldn’t wish coldness from the Weasleys on anyone. 

“Bill, Fleur, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N),” Fred introduces you to his brother and his wife. 

Bill shakes your hand with a polite smile. “Nice to meet you,” he beams. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Bill teased his brother.

“Keeping me a secret, eh?” you look at Fred.

“An American girlfriend! Oh, this is brilliant,” Bill laughs. “Looking forward to getting to know you,” he speaks.

You turn to Bill’s wife, Fleur who gives you a small smile. “Nice to see another girl in the ‘ouse,” she beams. “You are quite beautiful,” Fleur beams as you blush yet again. But this time it felt different. A Veela complimenting you on your beauty. “’ow did you manage to get ‘er, Fred?” Fleur keeps the teasing going as he groans.

“Bloody hell, I get it! My girlfriend is gorgeous, and American, and out of my league! Are we eating dinner?” Fred tries to change the subject which just makes everyone else laugh.

Dinner was divine. Molly really knew how to cook and boy, did she make a feast. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, gravy, bread and chocolate cake for desert. Fred had told his mother what you’re favorite foods were and she gladly obliged to making all of them to which you thanked her profusely for. 

Ron leaned back in his seat as the dishes were being magically cleaned. “You should come over more, (Y/N),” he rubs his belly, full of dinner, making you laugh.

Ginny sprung from her seat, pulling Harry up with her. “Well, digest quickly, Ron. The sun is setting and George promised me a game of quidditch before nightfall,” Ginny smirks at her older brother who groans.

“Quidditch? After this meal? What are you trying to do, Gin? Make me have a heart attack?” he complains. “Why can’t we do a morning game?”

“Cause you always sleep through morning matches!” Harry defends Ginny who smiles proudly at him. “Get your lazy arse up and get a broom!”

Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Ron, and Bill all rise from the table and rush to the garden shed to grab brooms. You just laugh along with Fleur and Hermione at the table before you three rise from the table, walking outside to watch the game that would eventually descend into madness. 

Hermione runs ahead of you and Fleur and to the backyard, calling out, “I’ll be score keep!” 

Fleur turns to you and smiles, “’Ow are you feeling? I know the feeling of meeting the family for the first time. Although, I think you and I ‘ad different experiences.”

You give Fleur a knowing smile. “They’re a lovely family. I was very nervous to come here because I didn’t know how they would react to have a complete stranger in their house, but they’re really great. Freddie was right.”

Fleur links your arms together as you walk to a small clearing in the backyard as the lot before you hops on brooms and takes to the skies. “I know I ‘ave my ‘istory with the Weasleys, but they are very good people. Kind people. Genuine. And I know, Fred. I saw the way ‘e looked at you at dinner. The boy loves you very much. And being loved by a Weasley,” she looks up at her husband, laughing on a broom as he pats Freddie’s shoulder, “it’s the greatest feeling in the world. ‘old onto ‘im, (Y/N).”

Your heart swells at Fleur’s words. It was beautiful to see the way she spoke of Bill. How she looked at him. You could only wish that you had that kind of love with Fred. “Thank you, Fleur. That means a lot,” you squeeze her hand. 

The two of you look to the sky to see the lot waiting. “Are you all going to start this game or not? I wanna see some action!” you tease those in the sky as Fleur giggles next to you. “You gonna win for me, Freddie?” you give him a wink.

Fred scoffs, “Of course I am.”

The quidditch game had ended quite quickly after a brief thirty minute game, Harry catching the snitch with ease. “That’s what happens when you challenge the best quidditch player of this generation,” he sticks his tongue out at Ginny who rolls her eyes and shoves her boyfriend inside.

“Wonder what happens if I beat up the best quidditch player of all time,” Ginny speaks as Harry laughs before running up the stairs away from his girlfriend who had just lost the quidditch match.

As the group files back in again, Bill and Fleur make their way upstairs back to his old room. Ron and Hermione scramble into the living room, Hermione challenging Ron to a chess match, giggling as Ron places a sneaky kiss on her cheek, George throwing playful punches at Fred who slaps his bum, running away as George yells at him. Percy, who sits in the recliner groans, “Can you be any louder? I’m trying to read!”

George looks at Fred who has a devilish smile on his cheeks. “Be louder? Alright!” Fred exclaims before he and George link arms and start scream singing a random song that came to their heads, making you shake your head and laugh. 

Percy just leans further back into his chair with a sigh, but there is a small smile on his face as he watches his twin brothers, dance around the living room, occasionally letting a chuckle out here and there. 

You sit on the couch, observing it all take place. To an outside eye, the Weasley house looked chaotic. But really, it was perfectly orchestrated. Everyone had their own thing to do, but still interacted and operated alongside each other without fail. Ron and Hermione quietly playing cheer in the corner, little giggles here and there. Percy reading a book, curled up in the corner. Ginny and Harry running up and down the stairs, in and out of the house. Bill and Fleur upstairs, getting ready for bed. Molly in the kitchen, cleaning up before getting ready to retire to her bedroom where Arthur was surely waiting after finishing the garden work. Fred and George acting like fools in the living room, babbling about the shoppe. The house was like an orchestra, each person playing their part that was very different from the others, but they all clicked together to make beautiful music.

Beside you on the couch, Fred sits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “First day at the Burrow. How are you liking it?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You cup his cheek with your hand, brushing your thumb against it. “It’s perfect here. I can see why you love it so much,” you admit as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Your family is so sweet. I really adore them already.”

“And they adore you. Mum especially. She was gushing to Dad about you over dinner whilst you talked to Ginny and Harry,” Fred confides in you as your heart swells. His family liking you was all that mattered. “You’re smashing it. But I knew you would,” he shrugs as you giggle. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Kissing his lips gently, you speak, “I’m glad I came.”

----

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff​ @harrysweasleys​ @gcdric​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @lol-idk-oops​ @vogueweasley​

[writing-in-april]

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (1/?)

Part One: The introduction

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader meets a mysterious stranger at the library during a book club meeting.

Part Two, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey Heyyy! This is my first Dom!Spencer fic in so long!!! My last one was also funnily enough for a fic swap as is this one! I had @aperrywilliams for the fic swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. I had so much fun writing this one- it’s based on a prompt that I got from @andiebeaword and @spencers-dria helped me by guiding me with the book club idea- with a little twist! I am considering making this a series, if y’all are interested PLEASE let me know- I really want to because I had so much fun writing this. Thanks to all y’all for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer, Public Sex (is anyone that surprised??), Impact Play, Post Prison Spencer, Use of the nickname Doctor during sex, Spencer is a brat tamer, Spencer is morally ambiguous but doesn’t do anything explicitly immoral

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.0k

As soon as you walked in through the large wooden doors it felt like history hit you over the head with a book. Even though it was on the small side for a library it still probably held more books than a normal public library, almost every wall was adorned with built-in shelves stacked from bottom to top with old books. They ranged in every subject you could think imaginable, from every point in history imaginable, and from every point of view that was imaginable. When you had first discovered this place it had felt like you had been transported to another world. You were surprised that more people didn’t know about this old library nestled in the corners of D.C, it was just sitting there idly watching as history passed by day by day, while it sat writing down all its secrets.

A meeting of the classics was scrawled on the standing white board you saw right when you walked into the library. A meeting of the classics from 7pm to 11:30 in reading room C were the exact words, you didn’t even really need to read them as you had been looking forward to this event for weeks.

You made your way down to the reading room that was specified, only encountering a few stragglers similar to yourself on the way down. You were somewhat new to the events that this library ran, only coming to the past four months. It was quickly becoming your favorite thing to do every month.

There was always a theme to each of the parties, ranging from different eras of history, specific novels, and including things that were open to interpretation. Tonight’s theme was as stated on the white board, a meeting of the classics, which had been described as “Pick your favorite literary icon from a classic novel and dress up as them.”

You had decided to not pick a character from a classic novel, but rather an author, Mary Shelly. You based your entire look on the iconic writer of Frankenstein (with a twist of course) because it had been your favorite novel as a child, it still was your favorite novel.

Once you had made it into the large reading room you took in the full room like you did every week. People were dressed as many outlandish characters, with some being more difficult to decipher than others. As you walked around the reading room you could feel the eyes of another on you.

You could feel his stare following you intently as you walked around mingling with the others that you had met before. The eyes belonged to a man you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, a man dressed as someone instantly recognizable, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. What other iconic character would be split down the middle, half innocent doctor and half evil alter ego.

Even behind the costume you could tell how attractive the man was. He was extremely tall and lanky, with deep brown eyes and the fluffiest brown hair you had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” You asked the married lady and gentlemen dressed up as Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Maybe it was shameful that you didn’t know their actual names, but you guess that’s what some people want when they come to an event like this

“That’s Dr. Spencer Reid, he hasn’t been here for a while and he sometimes misses things because of work. You didn’t hear it from me, but I heard he got in trouble with the law, that’s why he hasn’t been here for almost six months.” Her gossipy voice was drenched in fake sugar that made you gag on the inside. You still did appreciate her information as it gained you the name of the man who couldn’t stop staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

“Must not have been that bad if he’s already out now, or maybe he’s innocent.” Ms. Bennet shrugged her shoulders at that. You may have even been naive to not heed her warning, but the idea of getting to know the mysterious fluffy haired man that had been staring at you all night was too intriguing for you to ignore.

“Who are you?” The mysterious man asked when he finally decided to approach you instead of staring at you from across the room.

Trying to maintain the same level of mystery as the man had you dodging his question with a simple redirect, “Who’s asking?”

“I thought it was quite obvious who I was.” He was right it was obvious, but why would you let him know that despite the fact that you knew what character he was you could tell the man underneath was the real mystery of it all.

“You’re the one who is not obvious.” The back and forth you had already picked up with him was thrilling, you sensed the fact that in most conversations you would have with him it would be a kind of battle that you would have to win.

“If you must know, kind sir, I am dressed as Mary Shelly, author of Frankenstein, with a bit of a modern twist.” You made sure to call him sir instead of his earned honorific this time, to see if it would poke any buttons.

“I am not a sir since my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I can see now who you are dressed as, but I would still argue that it is not what the intentions were when they set this up.” You could tell that he was only teasing you with the way the inflections of his voice sounded, you were glad your teasing had been a moderate success.

You did also provide him your name before deciding to poke his buttons once more,“But, isn’t she a classic, Dr. Reid?”

“But, you have not made her a classic anymore by putting as you say a ‘modern twist on things’ though I must say it does look well made.” You would’ve been offended if you could not tell that it was all in jest, though you still got the sense that you still were not seeing what all this man was about.

“Thank you, Doctor I made it myself. However, you still haven’t answered my question yet, Dr. Reid.” You asked the next question hoping he would get what you were implying, “Who are you?”

“I suspect you may already know, but I am dressed half as Dr. Jekyll and half as Mr. Hyde.” At least he started to somewhat catch on to the hidden meaning in your words, though you still had not dug up the real answer you were looking for. He was too intriguing to persuade you to stop digging, you wanted to find who the doctor really was, not the partial mask he was still using.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but aren’t you breaking the rules by dressing up as technically two characters?”

“Were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as two characters?” He fell nicely into the small trap you had set for him, retorting quickly without thinking. Which you found odd for a man that was clearly intelligent.

“No, but were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as a classic author with my own twist?” The look on his face had let you know you had won the debate. You smirked with triumph as you glanced over the man, taking note of each of his handsome features in case you would never see him again.

You decided to pivot the conversation to another question that was on the forefront of your mind,“Do you have a dark side, Dr. Reid?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He was deflecting, but he didn’t seem agitated by your question, simply amused by your dogged curiosity.

“I am curious though, what are you exactly underneath it all Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?” Your coy smile was most definitely not lost on him, he could see right through your facade. He could see right through Mary Shelly to find the true you underneath. You only wished you could figure him out as well, you wondered how he got so good at being able to read people in an instant.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Well, at least you got the answer to what you were looking for, even if the answer wasn’t as straightforward as you may have been expecting. But, you were realizing that Dr. Spencer Reid was probably anything but straightforward.

Your heart was pumping fast, his words had a bigger effect on you than he had probably expected, your panties hidden underneath your long dress were dampening quickly. Though as you saw the smirk on his face grow as you fidgeted in your chair you realized that maybe this was intention all along.

You excused yourself for a moment with a veiled excuse of going to the bathroom. You hoped he’d follow right behind you, to see that you were going to one of the empty reading rooms. If you had read his intentions correctly the heavy doors on each of the rooms should significantly squash any noises he or you would make.

Sure enough after an appropriate amount of time had passed so as to not raise suspicion, the good doctor (that may or may not be good at all) entered the empty room.

He brought you into a dominating kiss that made you want to cower at the same time as be completely defiant. You fought with valor as he tried to consume you entirely with the kiss, not letting his tongue slip into your mouth for as long as you could hold off. In the end you still lost the fight when he lifted you up onto one of the large wooden desks in the room, causing a gasp to fall from your lips that finally gave him full access to your hot wet mouth. He suddenly pulled away to pinch your cheeks together with his hand to make you look at him which made you whimper pathetically at first, but you appreciated his next question immensely.

“Do you want this?” You nodded as vigorously as you could with his hand pinching your cheeks.

He however was not satisfied with my eager nod and prompted you to confirm once more with an even harsher tone, “Speak up when you’re talking.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You replied with his honorific instinctually and you were pleasantly surprised with the eager groan that came from his lips in response. Plus, you were slightly rewarded with being able to feel his lips on your collarbone, sending even more shivers down your spine.

“Let me know immediately if that changes.” The contrast of his sweet meaning words with his hand gripping your jaw was jarring, but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It just made you want to be as bratty as possible because even if he was harsh there was still the underlying care in everything he did, you felt safe.

“Maybe I should just call you Mister instead, since that’s clearly your dominant side.”He growled into your neck that was quickly getting covered in hickies, next thing you knew he flipped you around to face the desk closest to you with your back to his chest.

“Bend over.” He commanded, to which in response you opened your mouth to retort. Instead of letting you run your mouth as you had done before he wound his hands through your hair and pushed you down to take the position he wanted. He then pulled up your dress to uncover the panties you had soaked through. You thought maybe he was going to give me some relief of the ache in my core, but you were given a harsh slap on your ass instead.

A whimper involuntarily came out from your lips from the harshness of the slap that you assumed was revenge for not following his commands. He then spoke with deadly conviction, “I want you to say thank you, doctor after every time I spank you.”

You only agreed because you were afraid that if you did not comply now he may not give you what you wanted. So, as soon as the next stinging slap came down on the same spot as before the phrase fell from your lips, “Thank you, Doctor!”

He continued his repeated hits onto your ass and you made sure to never miss thanking him with a cry. Once he was satisfied with how much you were punished for your sassy remark he rubbed over the inflamed skin of your ass with his large, unbelieving hands. He moved your panties to the side to dip his deft fingers to run through your folds, collecting some of your wetness. You whined loudly and perhaps pathetically in response to him only lighting touching you instead of obliging the heat you felt everywhere.

“Be patient, you’ll get what you want since you decided to start listening to me.” He snapped which caused your knees to buckle again.

“I can be patient, Doctor.” He definitely appreciated the continued use of his honorific in this scandalous situation as he let out a groan almost every time you said it. Instead of answering you he started to undo the pants of his outfit, a pair of slacks that were also equally as split as the rest of his costume. You didn’t look back to see his cock because you did not want to be punished by him twice in one night. But, you certainly felt it.

You could tell just as he was running the head of his cock through your folds and pulling your panties to the side again that he would be the biggest you had ever been with. What should have worried you slightly only ended up sending a shock through your core instead. He was at least somewhat gentle when he finally started to enter you, letting you get somewhat adjusted before sinking in all the way to the hilt.

As soon as he sensed that you had adjusted he started a rough brutal pace, not that you were complaining as he hit all of your most sensitive spots as his cock dragged through your walls.

He made no effort to stifle the loud moans that were coming from your mouth, maybe he thought the thick wooden doors would stifle the noises. But, there was no way no one would be able to hear the unintelligible wails that were coming from you.

“You like bringing out this side of me don’t you?” He rasped out after he pushed your torso back down to flat on the desk once you started to lift yourself up on your elbows. When you only answered with a noise that was not understandable he prompted you to speak up with another slap on your ass and said, “I said earlier to speak up when you’re trying to talk to someone.”

“Yes, Doctor!” You finally were able to cry out with a few more slaps to your ass from him.

Each time you kept getting close to the edge he’d pull away from you slightly dashing your orgasm away from you cruelly. Each time you decided to whine out loud to voice your displeasure even if it was involuntarily he would just prolong edging you for even longer. You were babbling incoherently when he pulled you by the hair so your back was pressed into his chest and after a few more moments of hearing you beg nonsensically with tears in your eyes he finally gave you the command,

“You can cum.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” You wailed as your orgasm washed over you in devastating waves, you were sure no other man had made you finish so hard in your life. You kept repeating, “Thank you, Doctor!”over and over until you had completely come down from what was arguably the best orgasm of your life. Your own orgasm helped propel his forward, and you made sure to confirm out loud that you were ok with him cumming inside you. The warmth that filled you as he pumped into you a few more times caused one last groan to come from you that was weirdly harmonious with the groan from the doctor.

Normal aftercare wasn’t really applicable in this type of situation, you hardly knew him and the added fact that you were in an old library with a party down the hall didn’t help either. He still cleaned you up with a softness you had yet to see from him during your short encounter. Aloe probably would’ve been the best option to soothe your raw bottom, but he did massage you for a few minutes after he cleaned the rest of you. He had even made sure your clothes that were not period accurate, as he had pointed out earlier, were neat before you both left. There were no cuddles and soft loving words exchanged, but you still felt immensely cared for by a man who claims he might not be a good man. He was a strange case.

“You still never answered my question, Doctor.” You stated as you stood on the steps of the library after you two had slipped out to leave.

“That’s because I still don’t have an answer.” And, with that you parted ways into the cool air of D.C. You hoped he had the same feelings as you when you had both parted ways, you wanted to see him again. There was another meeting next month, maybe then you would get your chance again.

The thrill that ran through your veins whenever you interacted with him, whether he was fucking you or having a rousing conversation about classic literature made you want him no matter whether he was Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. You’d take them both.

Part Two, Part Three| Series Masterlist

———

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom Spencer (new tag list):

[stutterfly]

Tricks of the Trade | MYG (M)

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

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

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

Genre: Fluff, humor, smut, oneshot

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

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

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

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

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

“You’re not going to find any.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You took the last one?”

“I had a craving.” He shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what I think you need?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck?”

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was not fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that.”

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

“Y/N. Look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why you, of all people?” he wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you biting my fucking nails again?”

“Yup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Whoa, what the fuck is that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again?”

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

“Wow. Got a boner, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" he echoes back.

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

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

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

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

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

"Still hard?"

"Like your nipples," you grumble.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first.”

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

"These pants are horrible," he complains.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck! Yes. Please. Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need me to stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” you prod.

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

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

“Yoongi…” you finally whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna know how it feels.”

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

“We don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There you go… Fuck. That’s it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Yeah...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did it happen to you too?”

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

“It’s gotta be it!”

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

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

“Like a god?”

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

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

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

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” Yoongi wonders. “What is it?”

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

“What? Where?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s tired!”

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

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

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

“You’re… Some kind of trickster.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wake her up,” he repeats calmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cupid?”

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

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

“Yoongi…”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi.”

“Y/N.”

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

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

He points to the both of you. “Look.”

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

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

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

“What is it?” you wonder aloud.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t me!”

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

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

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

“And those are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reeeeally?”

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“What are you looking for?” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you find more?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

“But…” you pout. “I wanted it.”

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

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

“You’re so obnoxious.”

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

“Better?”

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

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

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

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fiiiine,” he concedes.

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

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

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

What are you supposed to make of everything?

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

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

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

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

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

“So impressive.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, your cock..."

"Mhm," he prods.

"Feels so good, Yoon."

He chuckles. "Yoon... Cute."

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

"Don't worry about me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What if we forget?"

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

"Promise?"

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

"What?"

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

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

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

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hmm?"

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

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

"How long does this offer last?"

"As long as you want."

"Forever."

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

"Ugh. Wanna trade?"

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

[free-pancakes]

Levihan Song Prompt

Like My Father by Jax

Aged Like Fine Wine

a Levihan post-canon fix-it oneshot

AO3 link here

Summary: Hange and Levi send an adult Gabi off on her first date with Falco, heavily inspired by the lyrics of Like My Father by Jax

Notes: Thanks for the ask @29austro-lover, this ended up being such a soft little thing, and I loved writing it! it feels almost ooc but maybe this is just how it would feel to get a canonverse happy ending for levihan lmao

“I’m home!”

Gabi heard a tea kettle whistling from the kitchen as she hung her coat up by the front of the cabin, and closed the door gently behind her. A record player played softly in the living room, the sound of a piano filling the home.

She walked up to the small table in the foyer, smiling as her eyes ran over the bouquet of yellow roses lying on top of it. A small sticky note lay next to it—“Four-Eyes, don’t tell me titans are cuter than these damn flowers I picked for you.” Gabi laughed to herself after reading it.

“Gabi, is that you?”

“Yes, Captain!”

The thumping of a cane grew louder, until Levi popped his head through the doorway.

“Gabi, I told you to stop with that already. It’s been years since I’ve retired from the Survey Corps. Just call me Levi already.” His slightly graying hair swayed as he nodded his hand towards the sofa in the living room, and Gabi obliged to his routine.

She sat and waited until Levi shuffled in with a piping hot teapot, and he poured some for the both of them. As they sipped, they listened to the record player continue to play.

“Hange loves this song, right?” Gabi asked, almost getting Levi to smile—it made her wonder exactly what memories came to Levi’s mind as he listened to the song. He stood up, gesturing his hand towards Gabi, and she took it happily. He took her hand holding up to the side, supporting it, while Gabi let him lean a bit into her, keeping him steady without his cane. Levi led her, dancing slowly to the lovely song together.

Levi looked up at Gabi, a warm sensation swirling up inside him as he saw how much she’s grown since they had first met. Gabi had grown into a fine, strong-willed woman emanating sunshine—oddly very similar to someone they both knew all too well.

“Gabi, you better make sure that Falco brat is treating you right,” he said out loud. But in his head, he wanted to say that that boy should be treating his little girl like royalty—a queen for that matter, just as she deserved—as she was the closest thing he and Hange ever had to a daughter.

Gabi smiled, and squeezed Levi’s hand. But before she could reassure him, the sound of a horse and carriage came from just outside. Gabi knew by now there was nothing stopping Levi whenever Hange arrived home from a meeting. She could only assist him by handing him his cane—otherwise, he’d get so worked up if she helped him anymore than that. Gabi waited, staring outside the window as Levi approached the horse and carriage on his own. She couldn’t help but laugh seeing Jean and Armin always trying to help Hange out, their faces absolutely terrified every single time—Levi’s back was always towards her, but she knew he definitely had that menacing scowl strewn across his face to elicit such a reaction from them. But they knew to expect this—Levi always wanted to hold the carriage door open and help Hange out by himself.

Like clockwork, Hange would happily wish them farewell, while Levi simply waved them off, wondering why they still had to still bother Hange for advice—they were “grown and could handle it themselves” he had always complained. But Hange clearly didn’t mind.

Arm in arm, the two walked back in, Hange squealing at the flowers as Levi moved with purpose towards the kitchen.

“Oi Levi, titans are still cuter, though!” She yelled after reading his note.

“Why, because they’re gross, like you?” he retorted.

“No, because they’re at least taller than you!” she answered, and threw her head back in laughter.

Before Gabi could visibly cringe at their weird way of poking fun at each other, Hange walked into the living room, greeting her with a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. It never failed to make Gabi smile.

“I hope Levi wasn’t giving you a hard time! Your date with Falco tonight is going to be great, honey—“

“Ah titan shit!” Levi exclaimed from the kitchen. Hange and Gabi made eye contact, smirking before saying in unison, “Titans don’t shit!” and doubled over in laughter.

Levi brought out the pie he had been baking, the edges of the crust a bit dark, and a disappointed look on his face as he sat on the sofa next to Hange.

“Don’t worry, Levi! I like when the crust is a bit more crunchy on the outside!” Though suddenly, she paused and looked down at her belly, frowning as she poked at the excess layer of fat. “But my old body isn’t keeping up with all the sweets you make me anymore,” she muttered with a frown. Before she could dwell on it for any longer, Levi pushed the bangs out of her face and around her ear—“Pfft, well you look pretty hot today.”

She smirked, and placed her hand on his knee—“Hot, huh Shorty? Well—“

Gabi slapped her hands over her ears and groaned, “Guys, please don’t be weird while I’m around—“

A shy knock on the front door sounded, startling all three of them. Gabi rushed to find Falco standing their blushing like a fool, a small bouquet of lilies in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. After catching up, a slice of pie, and a solid glare or three from Levi making Falco feel like he might just drop dead on the spot, the two decided it was time to go.

“Seeya later, oldies!” Gabi said teasingly.

Falco froze as he watched the smile disappear from Hange’s face, and Levi’s glare grow fiercer, and the two of them simultaneously flip them off. “Just you wait, age will hit you hard too someday!” Levi yelled as Gabi laughed and closed the door.

When the two reached the top of the hill, Falco looked back at the cabin, seeing Hange and Levi through the window, dancing together, a glass of wine in Hange’s hand. Hange leans back to look at Levi—

“And now cue Hange-san saying, ‘Levi, well you’re just like fine wine, better with age!’” And Falco’s jaw dropped as he watched Gabi’s mocking sync up perfectly with the words forming on Hange’s lips. Gabi giggled at Falco’s reaction.

“They’re perfect together right?” Gabi said under her breath, while Falco nodded confidently in agreement.

A wonderful evening later and a sweet hug goodbye, Gabi closed the door as Falco made his way up the hill. When he reached the top, he decided to take another look back at the cabin once again. He turned, and watched Gabi approach the sofa in the living room under the warm, dim light in the home. She smiled at Hange and Levi, both having fallen asleep next to each other. She stared lovingly at the two, noticing that the grey hairs grew a little more prominent on their heads with each day. Gabi carefully took Hange’s glasses from Levi’s hands, picked up the book that lay in Hange’s lap, and gently placed a blanket over the two of them. Falco smiled softly at the scene occurring before him, hoping he’d get to continue being a part of it. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stared up at the night sky, and wondered how the stars aligned so perfectly for the 4 of them to live out the happy ending that previously only existed in dreams.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Cal Kestis x Reader (Continued 4) The Proposal

OG Request: can i request that you write some cal kestis since you haven't written him in so long? how about one where the whole mantis crew helps him propose to the reader? it can even be like a part 4 to the "training" series lol

Author’s Note:  I am SO sorry at how long this took me to post.  I got hit with writer’s block so bad, and this week, I ended up getting sick. It’s been tough to find time and energy to write, but again, I am sorry at how long it was.  I do hope you enjoy it!!!

   "I've never seen you like this," Greez commented, lifting a brow skeptically.  He planted his hands on his hips as he watched Cal make a cup of caf.  It was a task the young jedi had done many times without fail since he was the definition of balance, but somehow, he had managed to spill his cup on the counter.

   Cal lifted his brows only slightly as he tried to act casual.  “What do you mean?”

   “What’s got you so worked up?” Greez asked.  “You seem off...Not quite sure what it is…”

   Years of training had given Cal Kestis the ability to hide.  He’d hidden from the Empire for so long on Bracca.  He had concealed his identity without issue until that fateful day when he rescued his coworker and friend- an event that began quite the adventure.  Still, even so, he hadn’t been able to conceal his nervousness from the Mantis pilot.  His gaze flickered to Cere, who was quietly sipping her own cup of caf from the dining booth.

   Her amusement at the interaction was palpable.  Cal could see the slightest smile on her lips which she hid behind her mug as she took another sip, eyes trained to the table in front of her.

   What would she say if she knew the truth?  Would she be so amused?  As worried as Cal was that his mentor would disapprove of his choice, he was running out of time.  This wasn’t something he could conceal. 

   “The truth is…” he paused, running a hand through his orange hair.

   “What?”  Greez prompted.  “What is it?”

   “I’m…”

   Cere lowered her cup, the soft clink of the material against the table catching Cal’s attention.  “You’re going to propose to _________.”

   Cal gazed at her, lips parting in surprise.

   “Very perceptive of you, Greez,” she continued, eyes flicking to the pilot.  “To have caught that something was going on with our Cal.  However-” she met Cal’s gaze coolly “-the nervous excitement was coming off him in waves.”

   Cal exhaled, shoulders lowering as he braced himself for some sort of sagely warning about the path he was choosing, but Cere merely smiled.

   Greez's jaw dropped straight to the floor. "You...you what?"  He chuckled quietly at first before bursting into joyful laughter as he approached Cal.  “Congratulations, kid!”

   He smiled appreciatively at the support, but shook his head.  “She hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

   Greez shifted his stance, resting a hand on his hip.  "What, you think she'll say 'no'?"

   “Yes, I mean...no...We’ve talked about it, but I just don't know how to do it.”

   Cere surprised him further by rising from the booth.  “Need some help?”

   He tilted his head.  “You’d do that?  But I thought…”

   “The order is gone, Cal,” she replied.  “As members of this crew, we’ve already done some things the Council would have disapproved of.  I think after all these years of sorrow, a little joy is something we need.”

   Cal nodded.  “Thank you.”

   “So wait,” Greez shook his head.  “You want our advice?  On how to propose?  A former monk and a lonely pilot...what could go wrong?”

- - - -

   “Hey there, uh, kid.”

   You smiled, dabbing at a few beads of sweat that glistened on your forehead.  “Hey, Greez.  How’s it going?”  You gave your arms a little stretch, holding back the groan that threatened to spill from your lips at the dull ache.  Cal had assigned you to an arduous training session all afternoon.  It was unexpected, but you were up to the challenge.  Upon returning to the Mantis, you found no sign of your boyfriend, or Cere for that matter.  

   There was only Greez, who averted his gaze nervously.  You got the distinct feeling that he was hiding something.  Something big.

   “Everything alright?” you asked, testing the waters.

   “Alright?  Uh, yeah.  Yeah.  Everything’s alright.  Why wouldn’t it be?  Is everything alright with you?”

   You fought a smile as he fumbled his way through the somewhat defensive response.  “Yeah, I’m done with training for the day.  I’m just looking for Cal, actually.  Have you seen him?”

   “Yes, I mean, no...I may have seen him…  He went somewhere.”

   “He did?  Did he say where?”

   Greez fell silent then, and you raised your brows incredulously at him.  The stubborn pilot wasn’t going to talk.  Your suspicion grew, especially when his nerves seemed to spike even more.  With a shrug, you headed back toward your bunk.  Cere wasn’t anywhere to be found either.

   What if there was a new development with the jedi order?  Even though the holocron containing the location of force-sensitives across the galaxy had been taken care of, the Mantis crew had not lost hope that someday the jedi would return.  Perhaps something had come up.  Still, you weren’t sure why that would mean that both he and Cere would need to discuss it elsewhere.  It wasn’t like Greez couldn’t be trusted.  Or you.

   As you changed out of your training clothes, your hand brushed over the hilt of your lightsaber.  You gripped the handle and removed it from your belt before doing so with the second saber you had constructed some time ago.  The weight in your hands no longer felt foreign and unsettling.  The sabers had become part of you.  They were not just weapons; they were tools.   They were tools to defend those you loved and to usher in peace when the time was right.

   You set them down and continued changing into your gear.

   For years, you’d heard stories of the jedi old.  You’d never imagined becoming one.  You’d never imagined to have a mentor as young and handsome as Cal.  And you certainly never imagined falling in love the way you did.

   The thought was bittersweet.  You mourned for Cal and all that he had lost, but you were so glad to have found him.  He was glad to have found you too.  You could feel it every single day.

   A knock on the door to your quarters pulled you from thought.  “Yes?”

   “Hey,” Greez said, poking his head in.  “He’s waiting for you.”

   “He’s...waiting for me?”  You watched as he disappeared from the doorway before shaking your head.  “This day just gets weirder.”

- - - -

   Greez had followed you off the ship and stayed close behind as you picked up on Cal’s trail.  He insisted that he was not supposed to give you any hints- only that you were supposed to reach out with your feelings and find Cal on your own.

   “Is this some sort of training exercise?” you wondered aloud.  “Because I already finished training for the day.”

   “Sorry, kid,” Greez shrugged.  “It’s not for me to say.”

   “But of course.”  You smirked.  “It’s never that simple.”  You let your eyes slide shut as you reached out with your other senses.  You took a deep breath, inhaling the lovely scents of the forest- leafy greens and even something sweet, like blossoms.  There was a damp feel to the soil beneath your shoes.  More clearly than the other things you felt, you sensed the familiar presence of Cal.  He was nearby.

   As soon as you began walking in that direction, Greez uttered a “woah.”

   You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder.  “What?”

   “You jedi never cease to fascinate me,” he said.  “You know where he is without even a hint.”

   “It’s automatic at this point.”

   “So, you...you two really love each other, huh?” he ventured.

   You smiled and uttered a quiet, “yeah.”   

   The two of you walked through the forest.  A familiar tingle in your feelings let you know that someone was just ahead.  It was Cere.  You’d recognize that presence anywhere after traveling with her for so long.  She sat in the center of a small clearing, legs crossed and eyes shut.

   “This is a training exercise, isn’t it?” you whispered under your breath at the sight.

   Cere’s eyes opened, and her lips turned up in a smirk.  “Cal’s waiting for you.”

   “So I hear.”  You wanted to shake your head in amusement, but if it was indeed a surprise training session, Cere was acting as a mentor, so you instead gave her a nod of respect.  “Is there anything...Is there...What is my task?”

   “That is something you will have to find out yourself.  I wish you luck.”  And with that, Cere rose from her seated position and gave you a nod before stepping aside.  Greez stole a look and shrugged, immediately going to join her.  

   All the while a strange anticipation was growing in you.  Part of it was curiosity on you part for this next step in your training, and part of it you chalked up to be Cal’s emotions mingling with yours.  Even though you had no idea what was going on and why, something about the situation made you feel exhilarated.  Like something amazing was about to happen.

   You continued on your way, shooting your teammates one last curious look before vanishing farther into the forest.  The tingling feeling changed.  It was soon the distinct feeling that you got whenever Cal was nearby.   You knew it before you saw him that he sensed your approach, but when you finally stepped into the clearing where he was waiting, you weren’t expecting the sudden drop of his heart.  It was so sudden that you halted for a moment, thrown off by the swift shift in emotion.  Nervousness.  What did he have to be nervous about?  You were the one being tested!

   “Cal?” you ventured.

   “___________,” he breathed out.  It was like he struggled to breathe for a moment.   You’d never seen him this way before.

   “Is everything alright?” you asked, voice ticked up with concern.

   “Ah, yeah,”  He nodded, glancing down for a moment.  “____________, I need to ask you something.”

   As soon as he said that, your own heart dropped.  It was nervousness at what you suspected was coming next, but it was a good nervousness.  You immediately shifted, hands going over your heart as Cal walked over to you.  There was a small part of you screaming to not give into the hope, just in case it wasn’t what you thought.  Before the seeds of doubt could take root, Cal got down on one knee in front of you.

   Bright afternoon sunlight poured in through the treetops, dancing along his skin with each gust of wind that shook the branches above.  His eyes were fixed on you, glinting with a light you’d seen in him many times when he looked at you.  It was love.  Adoration.

   “_____________,” he said, gently twining his fingers with those of your left hand.  “I love you.  As a jedi, I never thought I’d be able to go down this path….but here I am, and I’m so glad that I can.  You’re the only one I’d want to go with.”

   “Cal….”  you murmured.

   “Will you marry me?”

   Even though you’d realized the words were coming, they still hit hard.  Your vision blurred with tears as the emotions welled up within you.  “Yes, I will.  I love you, Cal.”  And you pulled your hand from his only to wrap both your arms around his neck and plant a loving kiss to his lips.

   Cal kissed you back passionately, leaving you with one last peck before he pulled away to take your hand again.  His eyes darted up to meet yours before they focused on your finger as he slipped a ring on.  Your tears hadn’t stopped.

   “Cal, I’m so happy.”  Then, a chuckle escaped your lips as you wiped your eyes.  “I was wondering what all this was about.  I thought it was a training exercise.”

   “That was the idea,” he said with the shake of his head.  “We thought it’d be more of a surprise that way.”

   “‘We’?”

   “Cere and Greez helped me out.  I knew I wanted to put this ring on your finger, but I wasn’t quite sure how.”

   “Thank you,” you called over your shoulder, and you were amused when Cere and Greez emerged from the brush.  “Really, this was a lovely surprise.”

   “I’m glad you thought so,” Greez said, clasping his hands together.  He glanced between the two of you curiously.  “So, when’s the wedding?”

[emsylcatac]

“You’re pretty”

Summary

“You’re pretty, Marinette.”

He says it casually, just like that. He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He says it as a fact, some unquestionable fact, and Marinette truly forgets how to breath this time.

Because his words hold such warmth and love and tenderness she’s not quite sure how to respond.

You’re pretty, Marinette. It sounds true to her ears just because of the way he says it. She isn’t even sure she ever wondered if Adrien found her pretty before.

But he does.

Read it on AO3

For @rosekasa following this post ♥

(Hope the English is alright, I wasn’t beta-read!)

* * * * *

“Could you pass a hair clamp on to me, please?”

Marinette tries to ignore the feeling of his arm against her as his hand appears in front of her. She swallows, once, praying he wouldn’t hear the sound.

“Sure,” she half-speaks as she reaches forward for the clamp and drops it in his open palm, careful not to brush his skin with hers.

He doesn’t seem to notice her nervousness as he thanks her enthusiastically, and she can see him clamping a handful of her hair in the mirror in front of her just as she can sense his hands running through them. It’s just hair, Marinette thinks, she shouldn’t feel more than something pulling at her scalp yet his touch travels through her entirely.

She sees Adrien bending to grasp the curling iron, before he takes a strand of her hair between his fingers.

“Tell me if it’s too hot or if I’m burning you,” his breath says on her neck.

Oh, it is too hot and Marinette feels her cheeks burning, and she can only hope the mirror won’t betray her. However, she can’t exactly tell him that.

“Okay,” she barely whispers.

She watches how Adrien skillfully rolls her hair around the iron, and waits a few seconds before releasing it all in a beautiful and perfect curl. Marinette resists the urge to pull on it and feel it bounce, not wanting to destroy his work or worse—brushing her finger with his.

Adrien then grabs a second strand of hair and repeats the same gestures as before, modeling a new curl to accompany the previous one, then a third, and a forth. She watches him do in silence, wondering how many times he’s done it before, when and with who.

She could ask him. She could. But she doesn’t know how to break the silence that is starting to weigh upon her.

When Adrien releases yet another curl, Marinette straightens up a little. She gives herself a pep-look in the mirror, and starts to count to five. At five, she’ll ask him the question.

One. Two. Three.

Adrien detaches her hair only to clamp some other on the top of her head, once again letting her feel his hands sending shivers on her scalp.

Five comes all too soon and Marinette takes a deep breath and holds it for one, two, five seconds before releasing it in a sigh as she chickens out, again.

She glances at Adrien to see him poking his tongue out in concentration and presses her lips in a thin line. She’ll count to ten this time, and at ten, she’ll talk. For real.

Adrien starts humming a song she doesn’t recognise, and she almost forgets her counting until he seems to realise what he’s doing and suddenly stops. She wishes he had continued as she thinks nine, ten and—

“Where did you learn to do that?”

She feels a little proud when Adrien smiles in the mirror, and a little relieved as the tension slowly eases up.

“With modelling, there’s all sorts of hairdressers around to prepare the models. I like watching them work, it’s weirdly fascinating,” he says. She wonders why it was so hard to ask him that. “One day, I asked this one who had looooong hair—her name was Cécile—if she could teach me how to do it. She just gave me the iron and sat on a chair and let me play with her hair how I wished.” He chuckles and shakes his head, as if recalling an old joke. “Let’s say it looked easier than it was. But she let me try again the day after, and the day after… Until I got the hang of it.” He shrugs with a smile, a little proud but a little shy at the same time.

“That’s amazing,” she comments, finding herself gaining confidence. “She sounds really nice.”

“She was,” Adrien enthuses. “It’s too bad she had to move in the south. But I suppose that’s how it is.”

Marinette nods, not knowing what else to add.

Adrien resumes his work on her hair, clamping and unclamping them then and there as he goes.

As the silence settles again, Marinette finds her mouth speaking against her own will. “You can sing again if you want. I don’t mind.”

Her eyes widdens comically in the mirror as she realises what she’s said, and Adrien startles and looks at her in the reflection. “You...you don’t?”

“I...no,” she finds herself saying. “I like...I like it.”

She’s rewarded with a bright smile, and a foreign kind of glint in his eyes as he answers. “Thanks. But you should sing with me too.”

He doesn’t let her the time to protest as he starts humming a popular song she knows she heard on the radio but can’t remember the name of.

When he glances at her insistently in the mirror, she understands he’s waiting for her. Shyly, she joins in the humming, mindful to not be louder than he was.

He seems satisfied as he smiles, resuming curling her hair. His voice reverberates in her body and chest as he hums close to her ear, and she lets her eyes close to enjoy the sound and the feel of him caressing her hair.

All too soon, his humming trails off and he turns the iron off and unplugs it before putting it back on its stand.

“Psssst, Marinette,” he whispers, prompting her eyes to open. “Do you also hum English songs when you don’t know the lyrics?”

She giggles. “Yes. But don’t tell anyone,” she whispers back.

She feels him chuckles as much as she hears him. “Me too. Otherwise I pretend I know the words but really I’m singing nonsense. Only when I’m alone with my piano, though.”

She is about to answer him back when she feels his hands in her hair, closer than before and her face promptly catches fire. She watches hypnotised as he runs his fingers through them, readjusting some rebel strands as he pleases, ruffling them so they look a little bit wilder and a little less polished. He smiles as he goes in the mirror, seemingly satisfied with whatever it is he’s making of her hair. She knows she’s gaping but she doesn’t bother to close her mouth.

Then, slowly, Adrien untangles his hands from her hair and let them come to rest on her shoulders instead. She sees his face coming next to hers on her left, his hair tingling her cheek and neck and she has to remember what it’s like to breath again. She wonders if he can see her eyes glued to him instead of herself, but if he does he doesn’t acknowledge it as he smiles tenderly at her reflection.

“You’re pretty, Marinette.”

He says it casually, just like that. He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He says it as a fact, some unquestionable fact, and Marinette truly forgets how to breath this time.

Because his words hold such warmth and love and tenderness she’s not quite sure how to respond.

You’re pretty, Marinette. It sounds true to her ears just because of the way he says it. She isn’t even sure she ever wondered if Adrien found her pretty before.

But he does.

“Don’t you agree?” he goes on, unaware of the effects he has on her. He squeezes her shoulders once as he says it, and Marinette wishes his hands could stay here forever, with the sound of his voice oh so close to her ear. It makes her want to be held closer by him and to hide from him at the same time, a weird mixture of sensations she can only dream to begin to understand.

It’s an easy question and a simple touch, and yet it makes her lose all her resteint.

“I...sure? Maybe?”

She hears him smile. He brings his hands around her face, with only the tips of his fingers touching her cheeks and jaw, a soft pressure she can barely sense. He tilts her head up, gently asking her to look at herself this time, to really look at herself.

“It’s not maybe, Marinette. You are.”

And he could have spoken loud and enthusiastically, but Adrien chose to murmur his words instead. He delivers them with such an admiration that Marinette feels, at this very moment, that she is falling in love with him. It makes her wonder how much more in love can someone be and how much place there’s in her heart to contain all of it.

Seeing her reflection being in love, she finds herself agreeing with him.

“I’m pretty,” she whispers.

Adrien grins at that. “You know what else is pretty?”

She bits back the ‘you’ she wants to say, and settles o a questioning frown instead.

Adrien’s fingers delicately slide from her face to her neck and hover above it, barely touching her skin. “Your smile,” he adds in a breath.

She barely has the time to gasp at hearing him speaking with a raw honesty she envies that she feels his fingers tickling her neck and squeals as a first laugh escapes her.

Adrien bursts into laughter, and decides to attack her ribs instead. She tries to wriggle out of his grasp, to turn around to face him as himself and not as his mirrored-self, but it’s too late; she managed to catch her smile and he just proved to her that she’s pretty, all carefree and joy spilling from her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she tells him once they’ve both calmed down.

“You’re welcome.” He frowns. “I didn’t even ask you if you liked your hair.”

She turns to the mirror, and runs a hand through her now messy, wild curls, repeating the motion his hands had done in her hair earlier and smiles.

“I love them.”

[technicallymilkshakes]

Something Better than Tomorrows

A quarantine au oneshot Genre(s): Fluff Pairing: Xiumin x Reader  Word Count: 2k

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he answers back softly. “I'm here.”

You kiss the door. Four inches from the tips of your toes to his. The two of you are on your cellphones so you don't bother the neighbors, but you can still catch the cadence to his speech through the door. The lilt and timbre of his voice. No digitally processed sound waves can compete.

“I hate this,” he whispers.

“I brought some tteokbokki.” The plastic bag rustles as you pull out the container and pop the lid off. You're trying to distract him. Have been from the beginning. “Have you tried it yet?”

“Yeah. I think I like regular tteokbooki more.”

You make a disbelieving noise amid your chewing. Swallow. “Hm...” You pause. “I think I like regular more, too.” You smile as you hear his soft laughter.

“Dummy,” he says fondly. It's become a kind of pet name for you, one you haven't exactly discouraged. You've made a fool of yourself on more than one occasion just to make him smile. (Your favorite ones are his gummiest smiles, eye crinkled into commas, quick pauses in the language of delight.)

“What're you eating?” you ask in between bites. Your food has gone cold and it's not the most comfortable place to eat, sitting on the ground outside a hotel room door, but this is the closest you've been to Minseok in over a year. You wouldn't trade that, even for the relative comfort of your own room a couple doors down.

“'Isha,” he responds as he tears through a piece. You bet it's potato pizza—it's his favorite. “And sikhye,” he continues with a laugh. “For digestion. I sound like my grandpa. Must be getting old.”

You snort. He looks practically unchanged from when you first met him in high school and you tell him so.

“Wow,” he reflects. “Twelve years already...”

“We really are getting old.”

The line goes quiet for so long that you pull the phone away from your ear to check that it's still connected.

“Hello?”

“I'm here,” he says, but it's as if he's dragged the words out morpheme by morpheme. Like he almost doesn't want to be here. You wait him out, confident in your fluency of Minseokisms. He's too good at hiding his feelings. If you've managed to pick up on this, then it's something he wants to be known.

“I'm sorry for making you wait.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You should go. I'll be out tomorrow. I feel bad making you wait after all this time...”

Ah. So that's what this is about. You've had this argument before. Does the sea listen when you ask? Does the world lie down when you beckon? So tell me, how is it your fault? You square your shoulders, your head tilting back to lean against the door.

“Then open up.”

“What? I'm not opening the door.” He sounds shocked you'd even suggest such a thing. You can picture it—he's probably sitting up straight now, eyes wide. Sending concerned glances to the door like you'll pull a Kool-Aid man and break it down or just pick the lock.

He's talking as if you're on the opposite side of a war, not a door. As if it hasn't been over a year since you've seen him in person. As if you haven't been on two different continents, in two different time zones, with too much to worry about.

But now that you've spoken the words into existence, you can't reel them back in. They've been a bottle under pressure and you've just cracked the lid. You've been so patient. You've waited over a whole year, it's true, but having to wait another day when he's right here suddenly strikes you as an unimaginable cruelty.

“Minseok, your quarantine is up tomorrow. I'm one room down from you. Nobody's gonna even notice.”

“Still.”

You sigh. He's such a stickler for rules at the most inopportune times.

“Fine,” you say, gathering your trash and stuffing it back into the plastic bag. You stand up.

“I don't like it when you say that.”

“Why?” you ask as you walk the short distance down the hallway to your room.

“Because it means that you're gonna take things into your own hands. And that's never good.”

You laugh a full-throated laugh, the one he calls your genie laugh. He's ranked all of them. (His favorite is when he tickles you into squealing, breathless laughter. He plants adoring little kisses on the apples of your cheeks that make it worth it.)

“Aw, Minseokie, you know me so well.” You hold up the phone and make little kissy noises into the microphone.

You've made it into your room by this time and you peek outside. It's afternoon going on evening, with just enough sunlight hanging on the horizon to see. Perfect.

You throw the phone, still connected, onto the bed. You can hear tinny little reprimands, the words too muffled to discern, but his tone clear as day. You wonder how long it'll take him to notice you're not answering this time with a grin and step outside.

The balconies aren't connected, but the space is small enough that if you're straddling the balustrade, you can get a nice hold on the railing of the opposite balcony. You jerk it a few times to see if the posts hold fast. They do. You slide your other leg over and do a little jump over to the next balcony. You're not certain if this middle room is occupied, so you scurry quickly to the other side to repeat the process, only your foot gets caught between the posts and you hit the next railing full on in the stomach, knocking the wind out of yourself before you do an awkward flip and land squarely on your back on Minseok's balcony.

You catch the swish of the curtain opening, Minseok's disbelieving face gaping at you through the glass. He's still holding the phone up to his ear. He hurriedly drops it before sliding the door open. You'd be laughing at his face if you had any air left in your diaphragm. The whole railing rings like a gong has been struck and it feels like your ribs are trying to match pitch.

“Hey you,” you say with a roguish grin as soon as you're able to. Very suave-like. Zero hints of gasping fish. Definitely not.

“You big, big, huge, massive dummy,” he cries as he drops to his knees, his hands flitting over your neck and shoulders.

“I've fine.” You get up with a little help from Minseok and he guides you into his room.

You grab his hands from where they're wandering over your body, checking for injuries, and hold them. Your ego is more bruised than anything else.  

“Should've just opened the door.” You let go of one of his hands to poke his cheek.

He pulls back a bit and you let your arms fall to hang on his waist. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You're insufferable.”

“Thanks, babe,” you respond, kissing his finger.

Minseok looks at you wondrously. Even though you went through all that effort, neither of you can quite believe that you're here right now. Less than six feet apart. Your fingers find the places you have worn into each other's bodies—his sternum, the dip of your back, between his shoulder blades, the nape of your neck. Your skin still knows his touch, anticipates the slide of his hands up your sides. He is no stranger, it tells you. Reassures you that you still know him. And you can't quite express your relief to find him your lover still. It pricks at you, you see it in his eyes, too, welling up, he knows--

You find yourself in a crushing hug. He's crying.

Between the two of you, he's been the rock. You've always been the impatient one, the one in a rush. And he's the one you've always come back to, who's soothed you when you've broken yourself against the jagged edges of your own expectations.

“Just a little longer,” he'd say with such certainty, even as the world closed itself around you. He would tell you what you'd do the next time you saw each other, fairy tales that always started with 'tomorrow.'

“Tomorrow, we'll go out to the wharf.” Even though he was thousands of miles away, he'd still paint a picture of meeting you again. “The wind will be rising, tugging white caps from the waves. On the marina, the boats will clatter against the docks.” He would pull the phone away and thump against the table, or the floor, or whatever he thumped against. “We'll buy a cone of fries, and you'll run at the seagulls that get too close.”

Well, it looks like it's time for you to chase those winged fears away.

“I really, really missed you,” he whispers brokenly.

You gather him closer, anchor him against you. You'll be the breaker to all his storms. “I'm just glad you're safe,” you whisper, turning to bury a kiss in his hair. He smells of ocean spray, fresh and full of memories to remember and to make.

**

“It's too stuffy,” you say a while later, after he—after both of you have had time to calm down. You start unbuttoning your shirt to get more comfortable.

“You're not even supposed to be here, you know...”

You stare him right in the eyes as you drop your shirt on the ground and begin unzipping your jeans.

He gives you an annoyed look as he bends to pick up your shirt and starts folding it. You drop your pants with a smirk.

“You're such a brat,” he says with a roll of his eyes. He picks up your jeans, too, like you knew he would.

You chuck him under the chin with the knuckle of your thumb. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

**

Later, the two of you are in bed. He's lying between your legs, his head against your chest. He stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, his clothes folded on top of yours on a chair. All the better to maximize skin contact. It's late at night and you're drifting into that falling space between wakefulness and sleep. Occasionally, the tickle of Minseok's fingers on your thigh or his kisses on the soft inside of your arm rouse you, prompting you to drop a kiss to the top of his head or to slide a hand down his back.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he says all of a sudden.

You open your eyes.

“I haven't heard it in over a year.” He closes his eyes. He looks restful and at peace. “I didn't realize how much I missed it.”

You place a hand on his cheek. Surely this man must know how his words have crushed you.

He opens his eyes. You guide him closer to you. He sits up, and you're cradling his face in both of your hands now, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. Not a word is spoken, but he begins to smile. You can feel the swell of his cheeks as they gather up into a beatific smile.

“You don't have to miss anything anymore.

“Tomorrow, quarantine will end. We'll go out to Quick Fox to get your favorite bagels for breakfast. We'll eat at the park and people watch. And then we'll go home. You'll gasp when you see what I've done to the place and you'll spend the next five hours cleaning my mess up and complaining that you should've just stayed at the hotel. And then we'll go to sleep and wake up to another tomorrow together.”

“You're such a big dummy,” he says. He turns to kiss first one palm, then the other. “Why are you talking about tomorrow when I can do this today?”

He kisses you, a real one, no fairy tales required. Just the warm press of lips and laughter against you, the nip of teeth and teasing. He pulls back and there it is. That's the one. Your favorite smile.

Wow. Tomorrows can go kick rocks. Todays are much better.

[teacup-crow]

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

[soda-pop-kandy-krush]

so this is a tiiiny bit longer than the drabble i set out for it to be... clearly i have no chill and get carried away far too easily. also, i wrote most of this whilst incredibly hormonal/sleep-deprived, so please excuse any mistakes. i will probably go through and proof-read it at a later date. maybe. in the meantime, enjoy! <33

-

(Prompt Post)

12: Come cuddle!

17: I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life...

-

Knock, knock.

“Vee? Are you in there?”

 Virgil’s brow furrowed a little, but he didn’t look up from his switch screen as he fiddled with the buttons to reorganise his inventory. “Who is it?”

 “Your favourite dad!”

 A tiny smirk pinched at the corners of his mouth. He wriggled into a more comfortable position on his beanbag, lifting the console closer to his face. “You can come in, Pat.”

 Patton pushed the door open, scanning the room for his son. A beaming grin appeared on his face when he found him, and he made an immediate beeline towards the pile of cushions on the floor. 

 “Hey, kiddo!” He flopped down right next to Virgil, pulling him into his chest so that he could wrap him in a bear hug. 

 Virgil grunted in surprise, dropping his switch in his lap as Patton squished his arms to his sides. He squirmed a little, trying to sit up, but Patton only held him tighter, smushing his cheek against Virgil’s soft, purple hair. “Can I help you, Pops?”

 He could feel the excited hum of his words vibrating through his scalp. “Come cuddle!”

 Virgil squinted. “... Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

 Patton giggled. “No, silly! I meant in my room! I’ll bake cookies, and I’ll build us a pillow fort- oh!” He bounced on his knees. “And I’ll even let you choose what movie we watch! As long as it’s not the scary one from last week, with all of the monsters in it.” Virgil rolled his eyes fondly as Patton shuddered. 

 “The Nightmare Before Christmas isn’t scary, Pat.” He wriggled one arm free and used it to pick up his switch, going back to his game. “Why don’t you ask Princey? I’m kinda busy right now.”

 “Oh, come on, kiddo. You can put down the video games for a couple of hours to spend some quality time with your old man, can’t you? Plus…” Patton leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “We both know how much you love your cuddles.”

 A choked scoff escaped before Virgil could stop it, his ears turning pink. “I- you- I do not-”

 Patton giggled, blowing warm air on the back of his neck. “Yes, you do!~”

 “No, I don’t!”

 “Don’t lie, Vee. I’ve seen you in action. You’re really not as slick as you think you are, cuddlebug.”

 Virgil’s face was so red he thought he was about to burst into flames. He didn’t realise the others actually noticed the way he slowly migrated towards whoever was sat on the other end of the couch during their movie nights, curling his legs up on the cushions so that he could worm his way under their arms and bury his face in their chest. Or how he would drag his beanbag into the common room and plop it in front of anybody in there, sinking down and not-so-subtly leaning back to rest his head against their knees so that they would play with his hair and let him drift asleep. Patton had caught him out, and he’d never been more embarrassed in his life.

 In his final attempt to hold onto the last, tattered shreds of his dignity, he turned to the only sensible option left: sulking like a child. He folded his arms with a petulant huff, glaring at the ground. Patton couldn’t help but laugh.

 “Awww, what’s wrong, kiddo?” He teased, wiggling a finger under his chin. “Where did that little smile go?”

 Virgil’s scowl immediately flattened out, the corners of his mouth twitching as he scrunched his shoulders. Intrigued, Patton repeated the action, grinning delightedly when Virgil made an ‘mmph’ noise, his hand coming up to push him away.

 “Wait a second... Is somebody ticklish?” 

 He pulled Virgil into his lap and tweaked the curve of his waist, earning a loud squeak as the dark side lurched away from the attacking hand, struggling to hide what was unmistakably the beginnings of a flustered smile.

 “Oh my goodness,” He gasped, spidering his fingers up and down Virgil’s sides. “This is the most adorable thing in the whole entire universe!”

 Virgil whined, premature giggles already beginning to bubble up as he batted at Patton with one hand, burying his burning face in the other. “Shut uuuup!”

 Patton chuckled. “Oh-ho, I would watch what I said if I were in your position, Mister.” There was a devious lilt to his voice that wasn’t there before. Virgil’s stomach dropped. “The tickle monster really doesn’t take kindly to that sort of language.”

 He would deny the way that he shrieked when Patton reached down to poke his belly until the day he died. Virgil’s hands immediately shot down from his face to protect himself- but unfortunately, that was exactly what Patton was betting on.

 “Uh oh! We’d better get those-” He caught both of Virgil’s wrists, pinning them against his chest so that he was effectively trapped in Patton’s embrace. “-out of the way. There we go!”

 Virgil whimpered, nervous giggles spilling out as he tugged uselessly at his arms. “No! Pat, plehease!”

 “Please what, Vee?” Patton grinned mischievously. “Pleeease… Give you all of the tickles?”

 “No!”

 “Yeah?”

 “Nohoho!”

 “Aw, kiddo! All you had to do was ask!”

 Ten wiggly fingers suddenly dug into the spaces between Virgil’s ribs. Combined with the teasing and his current helplessness, it tipped him over the edge just far enough that he couldn’t hold back the bright, child-like laughter that spilled from his lips. It was the sweetest sound that Patton had ever heard- and it was coming from Virgil!

 Oh, yeah. He was never letting this go.

 “I can’t believe that you kept this a secret from us!” He moved to pinch Virgil’s lower ribs, chasing the cluster of sweet spots towards his back that had him squealing and arching away. “Oooo, that was a good spot, huh?” Patton chuckled, reaching over to his other side and repeating the action.

 “Ahahaha- Pat! I cahahaha-!” Virgil collapsed against the moral side, his laughter tinged with hysteria as Patton’s fingers started poking his all of ribs randomly, making him squirm so much that he was now practically laying flat in his lap.

 “What was that? You can’t believe how much fun you’re having?” Patton cooed, grazing his midriff using his fingertips. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest! And don’t you worry- we’ve got plenty of other places to explore before we’re anywhere near finished~”

 Virgil groaned as Patton lifted his wrists above his head, allowing him to catch his breath. He screwed his eyes shut, preparing for another attack, only to jump when he felt Patton’s hand cup his cheek, gently stroking the soft skin with his thumb. He blinked and looked up to see the moral side smiling back down at him.

 “You okay there, kiddo?” He chuckled.

 Virgil flushed, leftover giggles spilling out as he panted. He was giving him a chance to escape. Asking him if he wanted to continue. Making sure that he was actually enjoying himself.

He knew that he liked it... And he was okay with it?

 Swallowing, Virgil nodded. His timid smile morphed back into a wide grin within seconds as Patton’s fingers scribbled their way down his neck, his collarbones; looping over his shoulders before they wormed their way into his armpits, scratching at the taut skin and causing Virgil to fall right back into loud laughter.

 “Ehehehe- gehehet out of there!” He cried, pulling at his arms. Patton laughed along with him, still reeling from his wonderful discovery. The sight of a happy, squeaky, ticklish Virgil was a million times cuter than he could ever have imagined.

 “Huh? You mean here?” He wiggled a single finger right in the centre. “Okay, sure!” Patton switched to the other side, vibrating his fingers deep into the hollows. 

 Virgil squawked, promptly falling into uncontrollable cackling. By this point, he was so weak with laughter that he could barely even fight back. Not that that was such a terrible position to be in, but he’d be damned if the others ever figured out that he liked this, as well. Having the resident goofball know was bad enough, but he’d never hear the end of it if word spread around the rest of the mind palace.

 However, Virgil didn’t have much time to sit on it, as all comprehensive thoughts evaporated from his head as soon as Patton started to graze his fingernails up and down the underside of his left bicep.

 “Nonono-nohoho!” He pleaded, curling his arms around his head, not unlike a baby hedgehog. “Pat! Pahahat! Lemme gohoho!”

 Patton laughed. “Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for you now, stormcloud. I’ve got you trapped, and you’re mine forever!~” He booped his nose gently before moving to the other arm, his lips curling up into a playful smirk. “Plus, I couldn’t possibly let you go before finding your worst spot.” His fingers slowed to a halt. Virgil felt a shiver run down his spine.

 “And I’ve got a feeling I know exactly where it is…”

 Virgil immediately broke down into nervous babbling, wriggling and giggling desperately as Patton trailed his fingers down the length of his body- stopping whenever he found a particularly ticklish spot to give it some attention- before he arrived at his middle. Slowly, dragging out the process as much as he could, he lifted Virgil’s shirt, the soft material brushing against his skin and lighting up every nerve in his torso, sending the poor dark side into fits of anxious giggles.

 Patton tittered amusedly. “Well then, it looks like I guessed right, huh, Vee?” And with that, he used all five fingers of his free hand to form a claw, spidering across the sensitive skin of his stomach.

 Virgil shrieked, bursting into loud laughter and kicking his legs out. Drained of his strength and hopelessly giddy, there was nothing left to do except lay there and take it as Patton’s tickly fingers crawled all over his belly, pinching and squeezing and scribbling every tiny, hidden spot until Virgil was sure he’d go insane. It was completely unbearable, and he never wanted it to stop.

 “Gitchy-gitchy-goo! Tickle-tickle-tickle!” He cooed, scribbling at the skin beneath his bellybutton. “Gee, kiddo, I think you’ve got to be the most ticklish person on the planet!”

 Virgil’s laughter dialled up even further, blushing so hard he could feel it in his ears. Oh, God, not the teasing! He was pretty sure whatever was left of his brain had now melted entirely, leaving him a loopy, flustered mess. 

 He scrambled around to try and pull together a suitably snarky comeback, when Patton began to scratch at the sides of his stomach and he finally, finally lost it.

 “Nahahaha! Stop! Stohohahap!”

 Patton gradually slowed down, eventually stopping and pressing the palm of his hand firmly into Virgil’s abdomen, rubbing away the phantom touches that lingered on his sensitive skin. His head lolled to the side, resting against Patton’s hip as he gulped down air, hiccupy laughter bubbling up in between each breath. 

 Patton chuckled. “You alright there, giggles?” He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, mussed up from all of his wriggling. 

 Virgil, with the remains of a dazed grin still stuck on his face, nodded, nuzzling against the soothing touch. He let his eyes slip shut, the occasional, solitary giggle escaping. The moral side smiled warmly.

 “I’m glad. You definitely needed that laugh.”

 Leaning forward, Patton switched off his gaming console from where it had been abandoned on the floor, before carefully scooping him up into his arms to carry him back to his room for the snuggles he was promised. Just as he was about to close the door behind him, a quiet voice interrupted him.

 “Thank you…” Mumbled Virgil, sleepily.

 Patton chuckled. “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

[fakecrfan]

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin. 

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.