#literally nothing anyone says will ever convince me against this

[chippdhearts]

CSI and LGBT+ Headcanons ↳ Sofia Curtis ✦ Bisexual

[snekdood]

i honestly deserved none of the shit ppl did to me that lead me to this point

[eddiesxangel]

Hey!

I’m really bad at explaining stuff so bare with me haha😂

I was thinking that reader is a virgin and has never even kissed anyone, then she starts dating Eddie and he’s her first everything…

Then someday while they’re having sex, Wayne walks in on them and then he tries to talk to them about being safe and something like that 😅

The Sweet Days in the Shire | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

omg, this is so heavily inspired by my own experience...Are you in my walls? this is literally my experience with my current bf now...How did you know?!

Word count: 7.2k oops

Cw: This is NOT a fic about corruption kink. Angst, fluff, f!reader, readers first time (oral, fingering, p in v penetration) , reader and Eddie are 22. Happy ending 🤭

*Five years ago*

"I'm going to die alone," You groaned.

Were you being dramatic? Yes. But you were seventeen and truly felt like the most undesirable girl. No one had ever shown any interest in you. Your best guy friend, Eddie, was trying to convince you otherwise.

You had known Eddie since first grade but only got to know him once you went into tenth grade.

"Come on, don't be like that" Eddie spoke.

You were hanging out in the Shire, a.k.a. Eddie's bedroom, reviewing the new DND campaign, making sure there were no significant loopholes the others could get through.

"It's true! No guy had ever liked me like that, or if they have, they're all weird, and I don't like them back... Remember Lorne? He told me he liked me out of the blue when I hadn't spoken one word to him.'"

Eddie chuckled.

"It's not funny, Eddie! What was I supposed to say? I hardly knew the guy."

"I'm sorry. You're right. It's not funny." But he was still laughing.

"Ugggggggh," you rested your head back in defeat.

"So what if non of these shitty high school guys aren't interested? You're way out of their league."

"You're just saying that as my best friend."

"I'm really not. They are all douchebags or interested in anything other than getting a girlfriend."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where do you fall in that line?"

"I'm different." He smirked.

All you could do was roll your eyes. Of course, Eddie was different. He was Eddie. Your Eddie. Eddie, who you sprung a teeny tiny crush on within the last couple of months.

"I feel like such a loser, Eds. I'm seventeen and haven't even had my first kiss." You admit, softly.

"What?" This caught Eddie by surprise.

"You heard me." You mumbled.

"Impossible."

"Well, I'm not lying." You snap.

"Don't believe you"

"Well, you don't think I would have told you if some guy came up to me and planted one on me?" You folded into yourself. Succumbing to your self-depreciation.

Why didn't he believe you? Was it really that hard to believe that you were such a loser that no one has even ever tried to kiss you?

"Okayyy. So what if I helped you with that?" he pushed you back up.

"What?"

"I mean-shit- you obviously don't have to; you probably don't want to kiss me. We are just friends. But if you want to get it over with, you can...-I can help you." He rambled.

"Okay," You answered without thinking. You've wanted to kiss Eddie for months. You wanted him to be your first.

"Yea?"

You nodded your head, afraid of what might come out of your mouth next.

"Uh-okay"

You both shift, so you're facing one another. You don't move, unsure of how to approach this. Eddie was much more experienced than you. He probably already lost his virginity at this point. But the two of you never spoke about that.

So here you were, sitting on his bedroom floor, with your eyes closed, like a statue, until Eddie leaned in. You felt his warm, plush lips against yours. Butterflies soared in your stomach. It was just like everyone always described it to be. You felt the connection, that spark. The kiss felt like it lasted hours when, in reality, it was nothing more than a peck. But as far as first kisses go, you were convinced it was the best.

"Wow," you let slip when he pulled away.

Eddie chuckled softly and leaned back on the bed like nothing had happened.

Your stomach dropped at the realization that you and Eddie were, in fact, just friends. He didn't feel the connection you had.

"Thanks," you managed to get out without your voice cracking in disappointment.

"Anytime, Pip." He smiled and then went back to the DND campaign...

To add more salt to your wound, Eddie was arm-in-arm with Veronica a week later. Eddie had never even mentioned interest in her. You spoke every day. You never once hear him display any interest in a girl... another girl when not even six days ago he was kissing you in his bedroom. And that's when you decided to distance yourself from Eddie Munson.

*Present Day*

After a very long four years of college out of state, you were back in your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. Freshly twenty-two, you finally blossomed into the young woman you were meant to be. At college, you got to find yourself and your people. Once you had found your confidence, you grew into yourself. You had got a haircut that flattered your face and styled yourself with clothes that made you feel comfortable and confident. Before, it used to be all-black jeans and band tees that hid your figure. But now you find wearing skirts, dresses, and colo!

You used to be a late bloomer, but now you have gained many life experiences. However, you still need help in the love department. Your college years had been your party girl era, for sure. However, nothing ever went past a makeout session in the bar because you weren't like that... you wanted to have sex with someone you trusted, who you loved. Not some random stranger.

So here you were, back home in the early days of summer, and you were out job hunting. You'd been out on Main Street, in and out of stores, looking to see who was hiring, handing out your resume for about half an hour.

The sun was scorching for this time of year, causing you to start sweating and feel uncomfortable without air conditioning. As you walked by the local record store, you noticed they were advertising a job opening, and it felt like fate. You breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped inside the cool store. The door chimes jingled, announcing to anyone who was around that a customer had arrived. The store appeared empty, with not a soul in sight.

"Hello?" Your voice filled the empty air. "Hello?" You repeated once again a minute later with no reply.

"I'm here to apply for the job?" You peek around the back of the counter. As you looked over, you noticed a slightly open door. A figure passed by, but they didn't seem to notice you.

You respectfully waited a few more minutes but were becoming impatient. You decided to round the back of the counter and knock on the door labelled Staff Only.

"Excuse me." You knock and push it open a little further so you can see inside the staff room.

You notice a young man facing away from you, wearing headphones covering his ears. The loud guitar and bass sound emanates from the headphones. It's no surprise that he couldn't hear you.

"Excuse me?" You say a little louder, but it doesn't seem helpful. You sigh and walk up to him, hoping he doesn't take a swing at you for sneaking up on him.

Apprehensively, you tap the man's shoulder twice before stepping back quickly before they can react.

"What the fuck?" They rip off the headphones, and your stomach drops as you recognize the voice. Your prediction is confirmed as Eddie turns around with a frightened look on his face.

"You can't be back h-" He cuts himself when the reality of who he was talking to hits him.

"Eddie?" you cock your head in curiosity.

"Oh my God, Pippin?" he smiled brightly.

It had been four years since the last time you saw him. You briefly crossed paths in the hallways of Hawkins High, but the two of you hadn't spoken more than a sentence to each other since the day he kissed you. It was nice to hear his voice again.

"Hi," You smiled.

Eddie swore he heard angels singing when you spoke. You looked different, good, but different. More confident. More like yourself.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Trying to apply for the job posting. I've been waiting ten minutes in the store calling out for someone like a moron." You giggled.

"Shit, sorry, I was just on my break." He scratched the back of his head, letting his bicep flex in his tight band tee.

You tried your best not to stare at him, but your attraction to Eddie lingered. He looked really good, having filled out more and grown out more facial hair than he had in high school. He still, however, had his pretty wavy locks. They were just a bit shorter than you were used to.

"Oh, sorry, I can come back later."

"No!" He blurted out. "I mean, it's really good to see you..."

"It's nice seeing you too; it's been a long time," you shy.

"Yeah" He sighed.

"So are you the person I need to talk to about the job or..." You try to fill the awkward silence.

"Shit, yeah, I guess so. I'm, uh, the manager." He cleared his throat.

"Wow, manager, very impressive! Moving on up in the world, Munson," You laugh.

"Watch is missy; you want the job or not?" He slung his arm around your shoulder and walked you back out to the front of the store.

You couldn't help the shiver that broke through your body when his arm made contact with you. It didn't help that he also smelled delicious.

"Well, if it means I get to work alongside you? ... Yeah, I want it," You flirt.

"Oh, I see buttering up an old confidant for a job." He smirked.

"Things with Eddie returned to normal as if nothing had ever changed. Like you never left. Like he never kissed you, then broke your naive teenage heart.

"Well, the job is yours if you want it." He smiled.

"Just like that?" You ask in shock.

"Just like that. I don't wanna go through all that paperwork and boring questions. I know you, trust you. It's full-time. $5.50 an hour. So it's yours if you think you can stand working with me daily."

"I think I can manage that."

"Great. We can start training tomorrow at 10:00am."

"Deal." You reached out to shake his hand, but Eddie only stared at it like you were crazy.

"Come on, Pippin, a handshake? Who do you think I am? Bring it in." He opened his arms up to embrace you in a hug.

Pippin. No one but Eddie called you that. It was a nickname he gave you in the tenth grade because you were smaller than him... He said Pippin was the best hobbit from his favourite book.

"You know I could have robbed the store, and you wouldn't have known a thing," you quip, trying to play off the way your breath hitched when you embraced him.

Your hormones would have to chill if you were going to work together.

"That's why security cameras were invented, sweetheart."

"Oh," You shied away. You weren't as clever as you had thought.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he guides you out the door.

"Bye, Eddie." You smile.

Over the next three weeks, you and Eddie picked up where you had left off all those years ago. Things were good, great even. The flame that had been blown out was brought back to life and hotter than ever. There was an extreme tension between the two of you.

However, you both were avoiding the elephant in the room. It was fine until it wasn't. It was eating at Eddie. He loved having you back, but needed to know why you left and ended the friendship.

You were stocking up the new supply of jazz cassettes that came in when you felt Eddie come up behind you.

"Hey, so -uh- what happened?" he leaned back on the shelving, as he crossed his arms.

"What do you mean?" you chirp. Did you do something wrong? Was the till not even?

"With us, I mean, one day we were best buds, and then the next you were just... gone. I really missed you."

Oh, so we are having this conversation. You knew it was inevitable.

"You mean you really don't know?"

"Know what?"

"God, men are dumb," you mumbled under your breath.

"Hey! I heard that"

"Good." You deadpan.

Eddie stared at you blankly.

"You kissed me, Eddie. That meant something to me. Then you were with Veronica a week later..."

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, what?" Eddie's eyes went wide with confusion.

"Eddie..." You sighed. This conversation was giving you a headache.

"Pip, I didn't? I wouldn't. I-"

"Forget it, Eddie. It was a long time ago."

"Did you like me or something?" He genuinely asked.

"Or something," You mumbled back.

"Pip, I'm sorry I didn't know... I had no idea you liked me like that. I would have never offered to kiss you if I had known. I never wanted to lead you on."

"It's okay, Eddie. We were seventeen. I eventually got over it, but I had to not be around you to do that. I'm sorry I ran away... I missed you. Like a lot."

"Pip-" Eddie began, but a customer was ready to be rung up at the counter.

The rest of the day was busy, and your shift ended before Eddie's did today. So you quickly said goodbye and waited to talk to him the next day.

Eddie needed to make things right between you. What you had once was so good, and now it seems to be even better than before. Eddie was becoming infatuated with you. He got excited to go to work when you were on schedule. He loved making you laugh; seeing that beautiful smile across your face was his favourite pastime. He could have had that all these years, but it was all ruined for some hot piece of ass Eddie got for a few weeks in their senior year.

Eddie had met Veronica in his grade twelve English class. She was way out of his league, so when she agreed to go out with him, he was only thinking with his dick.

He was thinking about her and how she would be on his knees for him when he kissed you for funsies. He was not thinking about how it would have affected you. He was a selfish teenage boy being controlled by his hormones. Because of that, Eddie was now facing the consequences of his actions all because he wanted to get his dick wet in the twelfth grade.

“Hey Pip, can I talk to you for a sec?” Eddie greeted you when he walked in for his shift mid-afternoon.

“Sure what’s up?” Things were a little rocky since yesterday and you didn’t know where you stood.

God what was this so hard? Why did you make him nervous?

“I uh. I was hoping we could hang out… you know. Outside of work. If you wanted. I wanted to make up for being an ass.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.

"Okay." you smiled.

"Awesome! We are both off on Friday… I made sure.” Eddie said with a goofy smile. God, you were so falling for him again.

You and Eddie have been spending time together outside work every chance you have had for the past six months. He invited you to see your old high school crowd the first few times, and then it slowly became more one-on-ones. Unfortunately for you, your ever-growing crush on Eddie had come back and was stronger than ever.

You hated yourself for falling for him again, but you couldn't help yourself. He was just so charming, boisterous, funny, and not to mention the most attractive man you've seen. Eddie was a natural flirt; he always was throwing compliments your way. He always knew how to make you blush.

That evening during closing, Eddie offered you to come over to The Shire. a.k.a his trailer. After a long, tiring day, both of you wanted some relaxation. He suggested staying in and having a cozy evening with pizza, beers, and perhaps a little weed to escape the cold November weather.

As the night progressed, it began to snow, and a snowstorm was predicted for later in the evening.

"Do you want your usual order, Pip?" Eddie turned his head to glance at you. You were standing near the front door, taking off your hat, scarf, and jacket. As he was watching you, he got lost in your graceful movements. Suddenly, he realized he was staring at you and almost bumped into his fridge.

"Yeah," you shiver. You almost thought about putting your coat back on, but that would be silly. "Can I borrow a sweater or a blanket?" You asked sweetly.

"Of course, sweetheart." Eddie didn't miss the way your nipples perked out of your low-cut t-shirt when you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to warm up, but it only emphasized your breasts.

"Where is Wayne tonight?" You asked.

"He has an overnight shift tonight; he probably just left not too long ago." He said as he disappeared into his bedroom to find you a clean hoodie.

"I'm sorry, I missed him; I haven't seen that guy in years." You huffed. You loved Wayne; he was like a second dad.

"Yeah, he keeps talking you up like I don't already know how amazing you are." He threw the black hoodie at your head.

"Hey!"

I just gave you my sweater and a compliment, I think you should be thanking me."

"Shut up and order the pizza before the storm, Munson." You laugh as you pull the sweater over your head.

You and Eddie settled in, splitting a six-pack of cheap beer and delicious pizza. You wanted to watch a movie after dinner, so Eddie found a few stashed away that he still had yet to return to Family Video.

"How do you feel about horror?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"You know I don't like scary movies, Eds." You whine.

"Well, hate to break it to you, sweetcheeks, but this is all we got, so it's either this... or cable that will most likely be down within the next half hour if the weather keeps up." You glanced out the window, and if you didn't leave now, you were not making it home tonight. The storm had started a lot earlier than anticipated.

"Oh shit, it's awful out. I didn't think it would be this bad so soon! I should go... shit, I've been drinking, we both have! We can't drive!" You started freaking out.

"Pip, you can always crash here. I don't mind." He offered.

"Are you sure?" You twiddled with the drawstrings of the hoodie.

"Of course! You think I would let you go out there?"

"Well... no."

"We can share my bed". He said nonchalantly.

Was he insane?! You can share a bed... with him... you'll want to do things with him. You can't take the rejection again.

"Umm."

"Well, I would sleep on the pull-out couch by Wayne sleeps there."

"It's okay... we are both adults," You swallowed. "Hey, do you have any more beer?" You needed a drink. Desperately.

"Oh, so we are having one of those nights? Edie wiggled his brows at you, and you rolled your eyes in return.

"I need liquid courage for these movies you're going to put me through," You fibbed.

"Don't worry, Pip. I'll protect you."

Two movies and many screams later, you called it. You were maxed out on the spooky stuff. Halloween was long gone, and you were supposed to be in Christmas mode.

"You can get ready for bed first. I'll follow after. Eddie offered.

You slipped into Edie's hoodie and got under the covers, realizing the sweater was long enough to be worn as a nightgown. Eddie would be none the wiser that you had forgone pants.

You called for Eddie to enter, and he got ready for bed. You tried to pretend to occupy yourself as you watched Eddie get undressed and ready for bed. He pulled his plaid pyjama pants over his boxers and forgone a shirt.

There was tension in the air, but neither of you said anything. You held your breath as Eddie turned off the bedroom light and felt the bed dip as he got in.

"Pip?" Eddie broke the silence moments later.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?'

"Sure."

"Did you ever date anyone when you went away?"

"No"

"No?"

"Well...I went on one date, and he was shorter than me..." You laughed at how ridiculous it was. You didn't even like him, but you felt bad because you agreed to give him your number when you were out dancing one night, and you'd consumed a little too much alcohol.

"How is that even possible?"

"Well, you see, Edward everyone has different heights an-"

"No, you doofus," he laughed. "how is it possible you never dated anyone? You're beautiful." He says like it’s obvious.

Eddie made you feel fluttery when he called you beautiful.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful, Pip," Eddie repeated. "You’re a total catch; how are you still single?”

“Guess I never met the right guy…”

“Oh... " It was quiet for a moment then Eddie spoke again. "I know you always said you uh- wanted to you know…. Wait for the right guy and all… so have you slept with anyone since you were gone?”

“Eddie!” you cry, covering your face with your hands. You’re so mortified by this conversation.

“I’m sorry! Can’t blame a guy for his morbid curiosity.” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I can’t believe you remembered that. I mentioned it once six years ago.”

“I remember every thing when it comes to you.”

You felt his fingers intertwine with yours.

“Eddie…” you whisper.

“Yea”

"Ask me again."

"Are you still a virgin?"

You let out a deep sigh before you answered. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. And I want you to be my first.” you blurt out at a mile a minute.

“Pippin-”

“Just don’t go off with another girl next week or else I’m going to have to quit” you chuckle uncomfortably.

“Are you sure? Because if we start this I’m never going to want to let you go… not ever again.” He rolled over to face you.

“I’m so sure, Eddie, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You rolled to face him.

You didn’t know where this bravery was coming from. Maybe it was the combination of alcohol and being in the dark, but something sparked inside of you that you couldn’t put out.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please”

You both moved in tandem as your lips collided. Years, months, weeks, days, hours, and minutes that all lead you to this moment, this perfect moment. Eddie and you always belonged together.

“I missed you so much,” Eddie spoke into your mouth as he shifted to hover over you.

“I missed you too. I missed you so much.” You grabbed for him, to touch and feel him. Your hands gripped his hair at the back of his head.

“Baby,” Eddie sat up and slinked his hands under his sweatshirt up your bare middle.

Baby. Goosebumps spread across your body from his touch. His calloused fingers lightly scratched your soft skin, and his hands travelled further up until his fingertips grazed your breasts.

“Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” The temperature in the room suddenly increased, making you feel extremely hot. The hoodie you were wearing became suffocating.

“Sit up for me, baby. Arms up.” You obliged and felt nervous that you were basically naked in front of Eddie. You pull your arms out of the sweater and cover yourself immediately.

“No, baby, please, don’t hide from me.” He gently peels your arms away from your body. “Beautiful,” He whispers with eyes full of lust.

You reached out to cup his face so you could kiss him again. You needed to distract yourself from the fact that you were naked in front of someone for the first time. Your kisses felt rushed and needy like you would die without them.

"Slow down, Pip, we have all the time in the world." Eddie coxed you back down into the plush pillows of his bed. "I'm going to take good care of you. okay?"

You nod your head yes to let him know you understand. The room was dark, but the street light peaked through the blinds. You could hear your heartbeat along with the howl of the wind from the snowstorm. You looked over to the clock. It read 12:18am. Wayne won't be home until early morning, at least 6:00am, especially in a storm like this.

Eddie leaned forward to kiss you again, travelling his lips down your body with each peck. His mouth found your neck, and he sucked on it, making your hips jerk up into him. You could feel his erection against your leg, which only excited you more.

He made his way lower once satisfied with the marking he left on your skin. He nipped and licked and peppered your sensitive chest before latching his mouth around a perked nipple. How Eddie fantasized about this very moment for months. To him, your boobs were perfect. The way your soft skin felt under his tongue, it was like they were made for him.

You let out a squeak, embarrassed by the noises you held back. You didn't know if this was normal? To want to make sounds while Eddie's mouth discovered your body.

"Don't be shy, baby. You can let it go. Get loud. I want to hear you."

"Are you sure, Eddie? Is that like... normal?"

"Oh god, yes, it's like music to my ears... Would it make you feel better if I shared with you what I like?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well." He clasped your hand, intertwining your fingers as he rested his chin on your upper stomach. "I like it when the person I'm with makes noises; it lets me know I'm doing well. I like it when the person I'm with takes compliments and praises. I like it when the person I'm with calls me certain names, but we will save that for another time. And I like it when I get to be in charge... like right now."

"What kind of names?" You bite your lower lip.

"Ah ah, naughty girl. You'll find out eventually. But not tonight." Eddie promised.

"Eventually?" your heart perked up with hope.

"You think this is going to be a one-and-done? You're sadly mistaken, Pip." He shifted his weight and started back up, loving your body. Worshiping it with a thousand kisses. Lower, lower, lower until he reached the hem of your plain black panties.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” His hand cupped your panty-covered cunt.

“No.” you shiver.

“I’m honoured to be your first” He slowly started to guide and move his hand over your clothed pussy, massaging it. Exploring what makes your body jerk and tick. You let out a gasp as his soft touch grazed over your already swollen clit.

"That's my girl." he cooed as his hand travelled up and under the hemline of your underwear.

His hand slid down your soft, manicured mound before finding your slit. He let one singular finger travel down your clit to collect the wetness that had pooled and dragged it back up to play with you some more.

"Oh my god," You yelped as the unfamiliar but wonderful feeling of Eddie's hands explored your body.

"You're so wet, sweetheart. This all for me?" He raised his hand to examine the clear, wet, slippery substance that coated his fingers. He then stuck his fingers in his mouth before his eyes rolled back into his head. He moaned at the taste of you.

You were curious if you should be turned on or grossed out by Eddie's behaviour. "You taste like heaven." He praised you, and your body ultimately decided for you. You were turned on.

"Please touch me," You barely whisper. You bravely started to take off your panties when Eddie's hands stopped you.

"That's my favourite part." His hands replaced yours, and he watched intently as he stripped you down into nothing.

You were now fully naked in front of Eddie. You were a bit nervous, but not overly concerned. You trusted Eddie because you've gotten to know each other better over the past six months.

"My god, you're beautiful," He praised once again. You don't think you will ever get tired of him saying that. Your heart soared each time without fail.

"So are you," You whispered back and swore you saw Eddie blush.

Eddie's hands found your needy pussy once more. He wiggled his way down the bed, and he played with your clit until his face was level with your cunt. You felt so exposed you wanted to close your legs right away. But you also wanted to know what it felt like to have Eddie's mouth on your most intimate area.

"Show me how you play with yourself."

This shocked you, and your body froze. How could he ask you to do such a crass thing? Eddie sure was pushing a lot of your boundaries tonight.

"Come on, sweetheart. It's okay, perfectly natural."

You didn't want to disappoint him, so with a trembling hand, you started to circle your clit like always. The feeling started as a mild ache in your lower stomach, but it began to rise as you continued. Your worries and apprehensions slowly drifted away as the feeling of pleasure wafted through your body.

"You never push your fingers inside?" Eddie was mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

You shake your head no. "Doesn't feel right." You were too afraid to finger yourself in the past, not wanting to push the limits; you knew how to please yourself from clit stimulation alone.

"I'm about to change that." Eddie replaced your hand with his mouth, and you cried out in pleasure. This new feeling of something hot and wet consuming your pussy made your eyes involuntarily roll back into your head.

"Yes, good girl, let me hear you." He latched his mouth back onto your clit. His tongue circled and flicked your swollen bud until you were on the edge. You were so close, then his finger slowly entered you, and that took on a whole new feeling. His fingers were longer and wider than your own. He stretched and reached further than you have ever experienced.

"Holy shit!" You cried as his fingers pushed deep inside you. Eddie was careful to go slowly. His middle finger pumped in and out of you before he added another. As his finger worked inside of you, you felt a wave of pleasure from a spot you hadn't ever felt before. It made you cry out embarrassingly loud.

"Ohhhh, good job babygirl." He chuckled smugly. Eddie knew that he had found your one spot that would make you see stars. So, he continuously grazed over it again and again.

You didn't know what was happening to you; your body was undulating under Eddie's touch. He struggled to keep your hips pinned down as he continued to devour your pussy. You couldn't think; you couldn't form words. Your brain had gone into a cloudy haze that focused only on your body and how Eddie was making you feel.

No wonder everyone raved about sex.

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie" You didn't even know you were talking.

“That’s it, baby, say my name.”

"Eddie!" Your body clenched, and every muscle in your contract as your orgasm ripped through you. Waves of pleasure pulsed as Eddie's mouth and fingers continued to massage your pussy.

"Mmmm, that's my girl. You did so good for me." Eddie praised, and your stomach did another flip-flop at his words.

"You think you want to keep going? Or do you want to stop? You don't need to worry about me. This is all about you, Pip. Okay?"

"I want to keep going." Your voice sounded breathy, like it wasn't coming from you.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Eddie, I want you to fuck me. Please," you squirmed.

"God, I love hearing those words from your mouth." Eddie bent down to kiss you once again.

.As he kissed you, his mouth had a tangy and slightly salty taste. He explored your mouth with his tongue, just as he had moments before with your lower lips.

"I'm going to go get a condom, okay?" He whispered again to you.

"Okay," you bit your lip with anticipation.

You watched as Eddie shuffled on his knees off the bed to his nightstand and grabbed a blue cardboard box out of his stuffed drawer. He pulled out the foil packet and pulled down his pants and boxers. Your eyes bludged at the sight of Eddie's cock. Sure, you knew what a penis looked like. However, this was your first time seeing one in real life.

"No need to be scared, Pip." Eddie gave a reassuring smile.

"Okay, Eddie," You whispered.

"You can touch me if you want?" He walked over to the bed, cock at full mast. You slowly nod your head and reach out to feel it. Obviously, it felt hard, but you were surprised by the soft skin that felt like velvet.

Eddie made a whimpering sound as your delicate fingers grazed the red tip. You jerked back your hand, afraid you'd hurt him.

"No, no, Pip," Eddie stutterd. "You're okay; it just felt really good s'all."

"Oh," you blushed. Amazed at yourself that you made him feel really good.

"Shit, okay, I'm going to put the condom on now, okay?"

"Okay," you repeated like a parrot.

"Can you lay back for me?" Eddie crawled back up on the bed and over you once more.

You popped back down, and Eddie giggled at your eagerness. He wanted to make this perfect for you, but in your mind he already had. He wanted it to be the least painful he could make it. Hopefully, your orgasm will have helped with that.

"This may hurt a little, but I'm going to go slow, and if you need me to stop or pull out, you tell me, okay?" Eddie's face had never been so serious.

You nod your head.

"No, Pip. I need your words. I need you to tell me you understand. It's important."

Oh.

"I'll let you know if I need to stop. I promise."

"Good girl."

You sucked in a breath and bit your lip at his words. Eddie took a mental note about your reaction. He would tuck it away and save it for later.

"You're already wet enough, I think. I'm going to try and put it in now okay?" Eddie kissed you tenderly and you replied.

The feeling was odd. You felt like you were being split open as your walls burned from being stretched the furthest they have ever been.

"Oh god," Your face scratched as Eddie went in deeper.

"You okay? I can stop"

"No, I can do this. Just stay there a minute." Your body needed time to adjust.

"It's okay," Eddie cooed. He peppered your cheeks with small kisses as he waited for further instructions.

"Okay, I think I'm okay." Your vagina was still tight, but it wasn't as bad as a few minutes ago.

Eddie made sure to be as gentle as possible. Even though it was killing him to not just ram into you repeatedly. Your soft, warm walls were squeezing him so good, too good.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour, Eddie finally reached the hilt. You never felt so full. The feeling was strange yet exciting.

"I'm going to move now, okay?"

He was so patient and kind; you never imagined your first time to be so guided and full of communication. You thought it would just be like boom, stick it in and start. But, no. Not with Eddie.

As Eddie started to rock his hips, the burning started to ease into pleasure. Your hips started moving and rocking with Eddie's body, and you worked together to feel pleasure. Your instincts took over as your thoughts started to numb.

"That's it, baby, fuck, you're making me feel so good." Eddie praised.

"Mmmmm," Was all you managed to get out.

Eddie took that as a sign he could go faster. Thank god he did because the moans that came from you were sinful.

"Yes, baby, be as loud as you want," Eddie commanded before latching his mouth back on the sweet spot he found earlier.

A high-pitched ""Uhhhhhnhhhh" left your mouth as you became more and more cockdrunk by the second. His thick long cock was grazing your walls, finding your g spot that he had reached earlier in the night. Making you yell out his name.

"That's it, baby girl; tell me, who owns this pussy?" Eddie gritted through his teeth, and his pulsing cock pounded into you.

"W-what?"

"Sorry, shit, sorry I got carried away." Eddie kept his rhythm as he forgot that this was your first sexual experience. He couldn't wait to teach you about all his little desires. "you're doing so good for me."

"o-okay"

Your nails lightly scratch up Eddie's back, making him shiver. You then run back down and grab onto his ass. You hugged him like a koala bear, refusing to have this feeling he was giving you to go away. You were so blissed out by it all.

"God baby, I don't think I can hold out much longer," Eddie puffed. His hips never break the rhythm he set.

"Please," you didn't know what you were begging for? You just need him.

"I got you, baby girl; you're being so good for me" Eddie felt your pussy clench down at his words of praise.

"Come on, baby; I know you can give me one more," His hand slipped between you two and found your clit once again. You were so overstimulated that with just a few mild touches, you were falling apart, beneath Eddie.

"Oh fuck, you're squeezing me so good" Eddie tried to hold off, to keep going, to keep fucking you, but he couldn't. Your pussy was so tight around his cock he emptied himself into the condom that was buried inside of you.

Your head felt like it was spinning; your body was limp and racing with those feel-good hormones.

"I'll be right back." He kissed your cheek before getting up off of you after he caught his breath, got rid of the condom and cleaned himself up before returning with a wet cloth for you. But when he returned to the bedroom, you were fast asleep.

He laid the damp cloth on the back of his desk chair and brought the covers back up over the both of you before pulling you into his chest to cuddle you until he fell asleep.

The next morning the snow had finally stopped, and the bright sunlight had peaked its way through the slits of the cheap blinds that hung in the window.

Eddie heard footsteps outside the bedroom door in his hazy, half-asleep state. He peeked in an eye to see you sprawled out comfortably in his bed. He lifted covers to see your still naked body that he didn't really get to see last night due to the pitch black. He could see the marks he had made more clearly as they had gotten darker within the night.

He couldn't help himself. Here you were naked, sleeping with him in his bed; he just had to touch you. He kissed up the side of your exposed neck, marking the other side that had been left untouched. You moaned and squirmed, then giggled when Eddie's hair tickled you.

The reality of where you were hit the second you awoke.

"Oh, Eddie," You softly moaned.

"Good morning, baby," Eddie rolled on top of you, his morning wood more hormonal than ever.

" 'Morning," you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear before Eddie nuzzled his head behind the small of your neck.

"So I was hopin' that you'd want to go out with me, officially... or whatever?" He cleared his throat. His morning voice was so sexy.

"Or whatever?" you smiled back up at him.

"Or wha-"

"Hey, Ed's, I'm finally back-Holy hell!-" Suddenly, Uncle Wayne was walking into the bedroom, and you were screaming, trying to cover yourself, and Eddie was trying to cover as much of you as he could.

Wayne was mortified as he shut the door behind him as quickly as possible.

"Put a sock on the door next time you have company, Kid!" Wayne shouted, flustered as ever.

Eddie barked out a laugh, and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

"Oh my god, I can't go out there? Do you think I can fit through the window?" You asked Eddie before covering your face with your hands.

"Come on, Pip. I'm sure he didn't see anything; probably only saw my pasty ass." He got up and pulled you along with him.

He found your folded clothes on the chair where you had left them, but when you went to put on your underwear, they were nowhere to be found.

You got dressed without them, and Eddie pulled you out of his room hand in hand to Face Wayne.

"So I guess it was your car all covered in snow." Wayne shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he sat at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee. "There uh- coffee for the both of ya's if you want." He offered.

"Thanks." You tugged at your sleeve, not knowing what to do. Should you leave? Should you stay? Can you leave? The show was up to your knees.

"Better make yourself comfortable; the plows will take a while to get to this side of town." Wayne made the decision for you. Eddie guided you to the kitchen table and pulled out a seat for you.

"Wayne, you remember Pippin, don't you?" Eddie smiled brightly as he got you two mugs.

"Of course I do." He smiled genuinely this time. The awkwardness was lifting.

Eddie didn't need to ask how you took your coffee. He remembered two creams and two sugar. He once said it was too sweet, just like you.

"Thanks," you smile up at him as he places your coffee before you.

"I was wondering when the two of you would finally get together... Ever since high school, I've been bugging this one," He motions to Eddie, " To get his head out of his ass and to lock you down already."

"Took him long enough, you giggle"

"Now I know you two are adults, but I don't need no little munson babies running around here just yet, so you better be safe-"

"Okay, okay, Old man, we get it. We have already had this uncomfortable talk once when I was fifteen. I don't need it again."

"Fifteen?!" your eyes blog you're off your head.

"What can I say? The ladies love them some, Eddie." he smiled cockily.

You lightly pinch Eddie's arm, so he shuts up.

"Hey!" Eddie rubbed his bicep.

I knew I always liked you." Wayne tipped up his mug to you with a smile. "keep him in line."

[the-moon-files]

Man, I love the trope of aliens being terrified of humans, and I've seen some fics of human!reader reacting differently to stuff like posions/plants in hyrule, but this is in another level! We are indestructible! I mean, I could live on Death Mountain! With the Gorons! It's literally a dream come true!

Also, the urge this would give me to give them all the hugs and piggy back rides whenever it gets cold/windy/whatever extreme condition.

If Hylians would be surprisingly light, would they be light enough for me to pick up Time? Just get that big ass man with a bunch of armor on my back? Because new need unlocked.

NEW NEED UNLOCKED INDEEEEDDD. (touches my fingertips together like a villain up to no good)

CREDIT FOUND!! (Who did it first!):

IDK who it was but someone mentioned in a rlly old 2023-2022? LU x human reader post abt the hylians being lighter in comparison to humans!! If i find who it is, or if u recognize u wrote abt smth similar pls leave a comment so I can @ you!! /gen

@wayfayrr :D ive been in humans are space orcs fandom (is it a fandom? More like endless AU idea ppl wrote abt on tumblr) for Years, and ofc i never thought to put with Loz this past year or 2 getting into this fandom dammit - UR WORKS AMAZING THANK YOU SM FOR MERGING MY 2 FAVS AND LIKING/REBLOGGING THIS HOT MESS 😭😭

GOD i NEED to play TP bc u can hold cats like this?? and u get to see LINK do it??? 😭😭

Sun: technically Masc! Reader but not explicit (you/he/him), coule be Gender Neutral, Human Reader

Orbit: headcanons-ish

Stars: The Classic Chain of Links

Comets & Meteors: Content: in Four’s desc. mentioned “diving into chest”, & Triggers: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

A kinda 2nd part/expansion to this post!

no bc the “i can live wherever tf i want” was secretly part of why i wrote that post (so sue me, i wanna be able to follow wild around his hyrule w/o getting nuked)

OMFG SO GLAD SOMEONE WANTS TO TALK ABT HOW AFFECTIONATE YOU’D GET BC OF THIS TOWARDS THE LINKS (anduseitasanexcusehahai mean what? whatd i say??)

There’s only 2 types of Links in this hyrule(s):

Who’s already down with being cuddled at the slightest/not so slightest inconvenience??:

Wild

(unsurprisingly, also if anyone teases him he just teases right back that not only is it “for survival”, but also look he’s “getting Guide Cuddles™️ and You’re Not” lmao,

would sleep right up against ur bedroll every night if u let him, likes when you commit to the cuddle (even if he goes a little red), like wrapping arms + legs around him, adores fireside cuddles, has said on multiple occasions that nothing makes him feel safer than holding onto you, and how he can’t go back to doing things like this on his own anymore 😭😭😭

his favorite cuddle is whatever you give him LMAO u can always count on Wild if your ever feeling like u need to cuddle smth blonde and cute lol - he constantly offers or initiates it himself <33 )

Sky

another unsurprising one, his favorite time to cuddle is when it’s cold outside, or windy, and he can just get under a blanket and take a nap with you,

esp if it’s both and he can convince you to lay partially on him for heated + weighted human blanket purposes, he’s literally staring at you with sparkles in his eyes as soon as a breeze goes by lol

his Loftwing/Crimson wasn’t rlly able to fly u long distances u find out!! :( Hylians are just so light that ofc that explains why they can ride these pelican/ostrich creations for hours, whereas the bird can only rlly manage 20 minutes of low flying with you (+ Sky) on its back, but that’s fine, bc u figured out how to “shield surf” rlly fast down slopes to keep up with Sky flying low, and by “shield surfing” i mean, shocking Wild into jaw-dropped silence as he watches you fly by completely barefoot 👍

(after all, ur skin has to be pretty tough/thick to be able to handle the weather/environmental conditions, and finding out u can withstand lava? yeah this is nothing turns out)

secretly loves piggyback rides, but never asks, u just see him get this look in his eyes, and shuffling in place just behind you lol

Wind

touch starved, but what Link isnt lol

his favorite is piggyback rides, since he was raised by his grandma, and there weren’t a whole lot of close, young adults to pick him up as a kid

so now, he takes FULL advantage of u being able to easily pick him up lol

one time u guys were going uphill while a pleasant breeze was blowing-

actually it was gale force winds.

but ur you, so it took Wind flying backwards into you to realize. he also screeched at you for “ABANDONING ME- YOURE GONNA MAKE ME, A LITTLE GUY LIKE ME, CRAWL UP THIS?? HOW COULD YOU-” you give him piggy back rides whenever it’s windy.

will treat u like his own personal ship whenever ur both in the water, which consists of him yelling sailor terms like “turn starboard! raise the sails!” while sitting on ur shoulders while u get slammed (gently buffeted, really) by waves

Hyrule

shy, shy, shy, shy-

the quintessential:

“👉👈 🥺 is it okay, if we maybe hug rn?? I'm just rlly cold, and i know u said you didnt mind, and I saw Wild and Sky just laying on you, sorry if this is weird-”

Hyrule, sweets, you literally love him more than life itself, of course you’ll cuddle the fairy boy

the more excited he gets = the more likely to jump on ur back/wrap his arms around ur waist happily, esp since he’s an extra cutie patootie and will subconsciously seek u out if the environment gets a little rough

Sets an Amazing example for the other Links, not too clingy when ur busy, great at latching onto ur back when things get tough for him, asks politely and thanks you everytime he gets down <3

Hyrule is eternally fascinated by whatever u do, u just walk thru flood waters like it’s nothing and while the rest are used to it by now, he’s the only Link looking at you like your some kind of god 💗💘💖💕🙈

accidentally squeezed ur arm muscles one time when he saw u doing that thing where u curl ur arm and Wind/Wild were able to hang off of it,

you both just stared at each other for a solid minute before his ears turned down and he went completely red and apologized profusely for 5 minutes, before you just scooped him up too lmao (his face after tho)

Four

depending on the cuddle he gets shy sometimes, even worse if more than 1 Link is looking at you two, in which he will attempt to escape ur arms.

keyword being attempt.

you just wrap ur legs around him and trap him instead lol

likes to cuddle you somehow where he’s not in the way but you can keep doing whatever it is you were busy with

if he splits, then u can fucking bet Red is the first to dive into ur chest- unless there is literally, actively, a threat right in front of him, he’s going for it lol, Green loves to wrap his arms around one of yours and just hang off u all day, Blue will wait until ur sitting somewhere and flop on ur legs to purposely trap u there, the little shit, and Vio just likes hugs. he’s such a sweetheart, he just loves being wrapped up and wrapping you up 🥺

And who must be Convinced. (most to least)

Legend

fully expected,

silly man thinks he’s above love and cuddles, and all the good things in life LMAO came for ur throat again

it'll be below-freezing temperatures, in a cave with a barely there campfire, a blizzard outside, the other heroes complaining at him to just get under the blanket so you’ll get under the blanket,

bc you two are just doing that thing where 2 characters have like a table between them and are fake-out dodging left and right to try and catch the other lmao

is most susceptible to cuddles when he’s tired/injured/sick/sleepy.

it’s a cold morning and u just scootch the Links into a pile and use him as a pillow lol, and as long as no one, not even gods, perceives you two, he’ll let you stay

ok but you definitely caught him from falling into lava one time while on Death Mountain, and had to bridal carry him across half a lava lake back to shore, hehe,

Legend swore everyone there to secrecy on their own graves and favorite items

also refuses to let Ravio know of ur human advantages lol

he just wants the attention on himself as much as he can in between the other Links, no need for more competition

Time

silly man just doesn't think of his needs including affection/emotional comfort,

he only rlly initiates when the circumstances are dire, like gale force winds that he can barely walk thru/starting to slip, desert heat getting to him thru his armor and needs ur cooling touch, etc.

he keeps it as professional as he can, like wrapping an arm around ur shoulders, but you just snatch him by the waist and pick him up half the time, was surprised at first, chain giggled at him, then complained lightly, finally just accepted his fate anytime he touches you lol,

YES you have given him a piggyback ride, when a flood of water burst a dam during a battle/the other Links got out but Time didn't bc of his heavy armor,

so u yoink him up and just stood ur ground against the raging waves and climbed a rock until u weren't submerged anymore, poor guy was so worn out from the battle + the flood that he just let you carry him all the way until u camped for the night, and secretly took a nap 😭

like Legend he can be convinced to rely on u when he’s already vulnerable like sleepy/tired/injured/sick, but he does find himself secretly appreciative someone in the group can just lift his heavy ass in full armor/or someone else if it gets bad enough,

got converted and no longer has to be convinced usually, he just doesn't initiate much so u have to lol

Warriors

YET ANOTHER SILLY MAN!!

whats with all these idiots neglecting themselves, both physically and emotionally??

like boy u cant stand the heat of a desert or blizzard, just let in the cuddles 👹

similar to Time, just more vocal abt how appreciative/advantageous it is to have someone to be able to carry comrades out of harsh conditions or battles easily.

Did Not think abt this applying to himself until you literally swept him off his feet like a classic damsel in distress- mans let out a shriek after taking a second to process everything LMAO-

Loudly and Dramatically complains abt u coming to cuddle him, both just to love on him, and to heat him up in a rainstorm, but hugs you back and holds onto you anyway hehe.

Became the 2nd person to find out you’re immune to lightning.

See, everyone heard Legend talk abt u getting struck in a storm in Wild’s hyrule, but no one really came to full terms with it bc they didn't see it. Warrior is now a full believer. He actually got the closest to pissing his armor he ever has in all of his battles bc he forgot abt the metal in the storm = bad idea, until it was too late and u guys were trying to retreat to regroup, bc there were too many black-bloods, only to get full body tackled by you to avoid getting hit by lightning.

You had to bridal carry him for a minute after bc u just got back up after being hit, (it just felt like you rubbed ur body on the carpet and touched a metal wall, like a full body small static shock) bc he was in such a state of literal horror/shock,

Wars saw your life flash before his eyes 💀

Twilight

HA HA HA- HE NEEDS THE LEAST AMOUNT OF CONVINCING LMAOOO

goofy wolf man has wolf instincts that help ur case as to Why You Need to Pet Twilight’s Hair and Hold His Hand at All Times if Possible.

main reason Twi’s here is bc he thinks his height + weight = him not needing u to hold onto/cuddle as much, and he would be proven wrong HA

actually gets all blushy/shy anytime u pick him up, freezes like a puppy who’s gotten scruffed too lol

likes a lot more casual touch/cuddles, like arm around ur shoulder or his, sitting with legs touching, leaning against u when he’s cold, etc.

omfg funniest thing abt Wars/Time/Twi is that they’re the tallest out of the Links, so they make for extra fun when picking them up, cuddling etc.

but the best thing ever happened one time when Twi was still recovering from the Shadow’s wound, it got reopened/ached so bad he couldn’t run, but u all were trying to retreat at the moment bc Big Boss,

and u just snatched him up into a piggyback ride, his legs comically sticking out, but the best part was that Hylians are light.

so you were able to run full tilt adrenaline powered run, to the point you surpassed the other Links ahead, and had everyone laughing and simultaneously trying to conserve their breath to keep running LMAO

Twi grew up tall/bigger than kids his age, and is another victim of “no adult figures to pick him up when he was younger”, so he gets this little giddy smile when u pick him up lol <3

the first time u put him in a bridal carry for smth like river rushing waters, mans blushed, stuttered abt smth the whole time, and then didnt let go after you tried to put him down, u didnt have the heart to insist, so u just carried him around half of the day 😭

☆

sorry some have less than others, its nearly 2am I'm just riffing kicking my feet and shit, so I'm not being very thorough

i hope u liked my spiral into blonde twink insanity (well theyre kinda on a spectrum of twinkness)

anyway goodnight, and have a great weekend!!

to the 2 other ppl who sent asks, ill get to you soon and thank you sm for sending stuff :’)

Please feel free to send asks for requests or just to chat :)

Peace out,

🌙

[gotham--fc]

UCLA Love - A Jessie Fleming Imagine

Request: Jessie and R both go to UCLA and have a great connection on the field. They both like each other but are too shy to say anything until R has a bad game and while Jessie comforts her it slips out that Jessie likes her

This request was from probably like three years ago at least sorry about that besties..... let me know what you think!

It’s hard not to be intimidated by Jessie Fleming, or, at least that’s what Y/N tells herself.

In truth, Jessie’s probably the least intimidating person. She’s quiet, bookish, nice to a fault, really all the qualities of a non-intimidating person. But that doesn’t stop the way Y/N’s palms start to sweat whenever she’s near Jessie. Ever since Y/N started at UCLA, she finds herself inexplicably nervous around the Canadian midfielder.

She doesn’t know why, at first, why her heart pounds when Jessie’s nearby, why her palms get clammy, and why she’s suddenly aware of every part of her body. At first, she chalks it up to the fact that Jessie is, like, a legend on the field already even as an 18-year-old. She made her senior debut at fifteen! Y/N hasn’t even been invited to one camp yet. So of course, it’s natural to be nervous around someone who literally has already played at a World Cup and an Olympics. She has a bronze medal! Of course that’s intimidating.

When they first met, at the first team meeting, Y/N didn’t know what to expect. She thought Jessie could be a little stuck up. Maybe cocky. She was arguably the best player in the room and Y/N wouldn’t have blamed her if she acted like it. But instead, she sat near the back of the room and didn’t speak up until Coach called on her. At their first practice, she tried harder than anyone else on the field and stayed late. Y/N was in awe. How was this highly accomplished player so… shy? Quiet? How could she act like everyone on the team was of equal standing? Y/N admired her from the start, her personality, how she played, but the way Jessie makes her feel is more than simple admiration.

***

Jessie is always nervous doing new things.

One would think that after making her national team debut at 15, then less than two years later moving across the country from her family to train with the team full time, playing in the World Cup at 17 and the Olympics the following year, that she wouldn’t be nervous about anything soccer related anymore. That couldn’t be further from the truth. She is still nervous that her team won’t like her, that she’s going to suck so hard and get cut from the team, or be benched forever. She chooses UCLA because she loves the school, and the campus, and the coaches, and it’s where she wants to be. She has no idea what college soccer looks like and while she knows, logically, that if she can handle herself against full adult pro players, she can handle herself against college players, or how many of her national team teammates tell her that she’ll be fine, better than fine, she’s still a bundle of nerves getting off the plane in LA.

In the end, she has nothing to worry about. She fits into the team immediately, even if they tease her for being a bookworm, or a huge introvert. They love to bother her, beg her to go to parties or to get drunk or hookup with the guys on the baseball team (ew). She plays well, she builds her chemistry with the team over the season and Jessie herself will tell anyone who asks that she’s only as good as her team makes her, but if you ask anyone else, they would tell you that Jessie is a phenom on the pitch and the team is just there to watch her greatness.

***

It's a Friday night, and the team is out at another party. Jessie opted out, because she has a test on Monday and they have a game this weekend, so she knows she won’t get much studying done after tonight. They tried to convince her to come, but eventually gave up when they realized that convincing her to come might take all night.

Usually Jessie is content with a night alone to study, but a little while after the team left, there’s a knock at the door. Jessie rolls her eyes as she gets up from her desk, preparing to tell whoever was there that no, she didn’t change her mind, and she still wasn’t coming out. Instead, she opens the door to Y/N, standing shyly in the hallway.

“Hey,” Y/N says, “I heard you were staying in to study tonight, mind if I join?” Y/N raises her own books.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jessie says, “Come in.”

Jessie wills her cheeks to not turn red as she hastily clears off space on her bed. She tries to inconspicuously put her dirty laundry into her hamper. She can’t explain it, but Y/N makes her nervous, and she doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy, I haven’t had a lot of time to clean,” Jessie says.

“You’re good,” Y/N says, “My room is even worse.”

“I-I only have one desk, sorry,” Jessie says, “I can sit on my bed if you want the desk.”

“If I didn’t already know you were Canadian, how often you say sorry would give it away,” Y/N smiles, “I’m fine with the bed, I just have to read articles and stuff, nothing too crazy.”

Jessie sits back at the desk while Y/N settles onto the bed – Jessie’s bed. Jessie swallows and tries to focus on her textbook in front of her. After a few moments of trying and failing to read the problem she was trying to solve, Jessie glances over at Y/N, textbook in hand, highlighter twirling in her fingers. Y/N looks up as if she could feel Jessie’s staring.

“Sorry,” Jessie says as she feels herself grow red, “I, uh, I should’ve asked if you wanted a drink or anything. I have water or Gatorade or pop if you want.”

“Water’s good, thanks,” Y/N says.

Jessie hands Y/N a water bottle from her mini-fridge and their fingers touch. Jessie pulls her hand back quickly.

“Uh, let me know if you need anything else.”

Jessie goes back to the desk and tries to work again. She mostly succeeds, getting through a decent chunk of the physics problems on the test prep. She’s struggling through one of the harder problems when Y/N lets out a loud sigh.

“I think if I read another word my brain will explode,” Y/N says.

“We can’t have that,” Jessie says, “Who else is going to assist all my goals?” Y/N barks out a laugh.

“I see, that’s all I’m good for to you,” Y/N says.

“You want to watch a movie or something?” Jessie asks, closing her textbook. “Here,” Jessie opens Netflix on her laptop and hands it to Y/N, “Pick something.”

Jessie realizes, too late, that her bed is not exactly big enough for two people. There’s no way for her to sit unless she was pressed up against Y/N, or half hanging off the bed. Y/N doesn’t seem to mind though, patting the spot beside her. Jessie sits and tries not to think about anything except the movie playing. A little bit into the movie, Y/N shifts, and Jessie thinks for a moment that Y/N actually doesn’t like being this close to Jessie, and is trying to get away from her, until Y/N’s head lands on her chest.

“Is this okay?” Y/N asks, “I’m so tired.”

“Y-Yeah,” Jessie says. It’s a little uncomfortable, so Jessie moves her own arm until it’s around Y/N’s back. Jessie keeps an eye on Y/N, looking for any sign of discomfort, but she finds none. She tries to focus back on the movie, but she’s so lost now on what’s going on.

Jessie stares resolutely at the screen, even though her mind is elsewhere. All she can think about is Y/N. Y/N’s head on her chest, Y/N’s hand resting on her thigh, Y/N’s scent hitting her nose. Jessie feels like she’s never been so red. Jessie doesn’t know how much time has passed when Y/N lifts her head slightly and looks up at Jessie.

“Are you okay?” Y/N whispers, “Your heart is beating like, so fast.”

“Wh-Ye-Um,” Jessie mumbles something that she doesn’t even understand. Y/N won’t stop looking at her.

“Do you want me to leave?” Y/N asks. Jessie shakes her head. Y/N is still looking at her and Jessie feels like she can’t breathe, that any slight moment of her muscles will break whatever spell they’re under. For half a second, Jessie thinks Y/N is going to kiss her. Then, Y/N nods, and lays her head back down. Jessie swallows and leans her head back against the headboard, closing her eyes.

***

They don’t talk about it. Jessie wants to say nothing changes, and things don’t change on the field at least. Y/N still finds her and still plays perfect passes in the box for her, and Jessie still knows exactly where to go when Y/N has the ball. That doesn’t change. Off the field, however…

They don’t talk about it, so Jessie isn’t really sure if anything really changes, or if she’s just hyperaware of every interaction they have. It feels to Jessie like Y/N seeks her out more, that Y/N’s eyes find hers in a crowd on purpose, that Y/N touches her arm or her shoulder or her hand on purpose.

Almost every night, Jessie dreams of that moment in her room, when Y/N stared at her and Jessie thought they would kiss. In her dreams, Y/N does kiss her, and Jessie wakes herself up almost immediately every time.

***

It’s supposed to be an easy game. The team they’re playing is so far below them in the standings, and it should be an easy win. They’ve bowled over teams better than this one, and they’re going into the game with all the confidence in the world.

Y/N doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She feels like that scene in She’s The Man where Viola plays soccer in her debutante dress and she falls flat on her face. Every time she gets the ball, it feels like it gets taken from her before she can even think of what to do with it. When she tries to defend, it feels like the opposing players whip past her before she can blink. She feels in over her head and it’s not something she’s felt in years and she hates it. It’s no surprised her coach subs her off at halftime.

She spends the rest of the game on the bench, watching her team play. No one else seems to experience what she did. Everyone else plays the way they should, and they do roll over this team like they expected. But Y/N had no part in it.

On the bus back to campus, the team is celebrating, and Y/N seats herself in the very back away from everyone and pulls her hood up. She’s not in the mood to celebrate. She’s in the mood to sulk.

When they get back to campus, everyone tries to plan where they’re going to meet up to continue the celebration, but Y/N walks away before they decide. She’s not celebrating the worst game she’s ever played. She has her headphones in, volume turned up, so she doesn’t hear Jessie calling after her, she only stops when Jessie grabs her arm.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jessie asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Y/N says.

Normally, Y/N loves spending time with Jessie, and on a normal day, she wouldn’t think twice about walking with Jessie to her dorm, or telling Jessie what’s on her mind. Today is not a normal day, and Y/N can’t help but think that after her performance today that Jessie probably wants nothing to do with her. Y/N’s clearly not at the level of the rest of the team, and she doesn’t know why Jessie would want to bother with a player who will probably only see the bench for the rest of the season.

“You know you can tell me anything Y/N,” Jessie says, “I want to help you.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“At least let me walk you home,” Jessie says, “Please?”

Y/N agrees, because she hates seeing Jessie upset. They walk in silence most of the way. About halfway to her dorm, Y/N realizes all she wants to do right now is cry. She also realizes that it’s more than a want, that she is crying whether she likes it or not. Jessie realizes after the third sniffle.

“Oh, Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong,” Jessie begs.

“Like you don’t know,” Y/N wipes her nose on her sleeve, “You all saw me during the game. I played like shit. I sucked out there.”

“You didn’t play like shit,” Jessie says. Y/N scoffs. “You didn’t! You were triple teamed every time we could get you the ball. And they were definitely fouling you a lot and that ref was blind.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me,” Y/N says, “Team chemistry won’t collapse. You don’t have to pretend to like me.”

“I’m not pretending!” Jessie says, “I’m…” Jessie grabs Y/N so she stops walking. She pulls Y/N hood back so she can look Y/N in the eyes. “I do like you, I like you a lot. I like you more than… more than I’ve ever liked anyone before. I’m not… None of it is for the team and I’m not going to stop because you had an off game.” Y/N isn’t sure what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. Jessie sighs in frustration. “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Y/N says.

“I really like you,” Jessie says, “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N sniffles one more time, wipes her face on her sleeves.

“I’m pretty gross, like I’ve crying and I’m all snotty–”

“I don’t care,” Jessie says, “I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

Y/N decides to stop thinking. She leans forward and presses her lips to Jessie’s. It’s a chaste kiss, lasting for only a few seconds, but it’s perfect for Y/N.

“Can I take you on a date?” Jessie asks. Y/N nods. Jessie smiles wider than Y/N’s ever seen.

They keep walking to Y/N’s dorm, their hands brushing every few steps. They steal glances at each other, blushing and giggling when they catch each other’s eyes. When Jessie drops Y/N off at her dorm, the bad game is completely forgotten. Jessie shifts on her feet, not making eye contact with Y/N. She whispers a goodbye, then kisses Y/N’s cheek quickly, before rushing off. Y/N closes the door and leans against it, hiding her blushing face in her hoodie.

[bafvkun]

I just feel like talking about how deep Mikayu’s bound runs don’t mind me (HEAVY spoilers ahead).

Lets get this straight : i don’t care if you ship them or not (even if you would be a fool not to) but no one can deny that they’re literal soulmates and I’m gonna show you exactly why.

Yu and Mika were ALWAYS bound to find each other and reunite. I’m not saying that because I’m delusional it’s literally canon. Their relationship is as old as dinosaurs and once again : this is canon.

Yu (or should I say Mika but like whatever if you didn’t read the scans it would take an eternity to explain) was literally created for Mika. The sole purpose of his existence was to look after Mika and be his only friend. Since day one they were ment for each other.

They swore on every stars and defied fate itself that they will always found each other again no matter how many times they die or get taken away from the other in a way or another, no matter their race, age or era.

There I was talking about the first versions of them, but let’s talk about the main one, the one we all know in the anime and throughout the whole manga, Yuichiro and Mikaela Hyakuya.

Mika was the first one in this life to get Yu to open his heart, to make him accept his fate and push him to make the best of it. Yu was just a traumatized child that almost got killed by his own parents yet Mika made him feel like he belonged somewhere, he showed him that family wasn’t always meant to be bound with blood.

When Yu lost Mika it was like he lost all hopes, for the longest time Yu was suicidal, already from young age and this loss just made him feel so much worse. Yes the loss of his whole new family, including Akane and the kids was bad for him, but deep down what truly broke them was the loss of one another.

Years later they reunited, Mika like Yu both changed deeply because of their own experiences and yet their relationship stayed unchanged. Just the dynamic between them switched, Yu was now the one to convince Mika that he could trust his new family (Glenn and his own squad).

One day my mom told me « if when you reunite with a long lost friend and it feels like not even a day has passed, then it’s real friendship » and it’s been proven to me that this is true, Mikayu being yet another exemple of this.

As a vampire Mika doesn’t feel much anymore, it’s said loud and clear that turning into a vampire takes away from you any vulnerability, any love or lust. Yet Mika feels so vividly for Yu, it runs so much deeper than his own nature. His loyalty towards him is beyond any words could ever describe.

And it’s also so damn obvious how Mika is just so grumpy with anyone but smiles whenever Yu is around. He didn’t smile for anyone else than him throughout the manga, Yu is his literal everything, he is the only one that brings him peace and joy.

Now we skip forward a bit, Yu and Mika are in a deadly situation and against everything Mika dies. First let’s get the obvious out of the way, his last words were « Yu, I love you. ». I mean. There’s nothing more straightforward than that.

But then, when a vampire dies he becomes a demon, so of course Yu had to take him as his cursed weapon. So that’s exactly what he did, after so much struggle that I will pass here he finally got to talk with Mika and have a contract with him.

But the thing is when a vampire dies and becomes a demon he loses all his memories from his previous life, so Mika didn’t remember Yu at all. Yet, despite everything their bound didn’t die, quite the contrary. Even before they did the contract, so before Mika had access to Yu’s memories, there was still something inside him that screamed « that guy is important to me », even if he didn’t understand where it came from.

All the memories Mika had of Yu after that was again : from Yu’s own memories.

And what Mika saw broke him, the desire to die was so overwhelming even in his demon form he found himself speechless and hurt. He didn’t remember Yu but he knew that he was important to him more than he could ever tell. And he didn’t only see their memories together, he saw Yu’s whole life, the moment with his parents, the years they spent apart, Yu and Glenn’s relationship and his new family, he saw everything.

He swore his loyalty to him yet again, ready to do anything for him and face the end of the world hand in hand with him. And of course, even when he lost his memories Yu never once doubted him and that he would still follow him.

Now. I’ve been talking a lot about Mika’s love for Yu but what about the other way around ? Moving forward in the story again Glenn revealed something to Yu, his squad and Mika that left a dilemma hanging in the air. Yu had to chose between humanity and Mika. And what did he do ? He chose Mika, betraying not only Glenn, the man that save him physically and psychologically and that he respected the most in the world, not only his squad with who he shared ups and downs like a family but humanity itself for the survival of Mika.

If this doesn’t speak volumes to you I don’t know what will. Yu sacrificed EVERYTHING down to his own survival just to spend one more day with Mika. Now not only vampires, demons and angels were against him, but humanity too all for the sake of one man.

Both of them constantly put their whole life and universe on the line for the other and they always do it in a heartbeat, like any other decision would just be unthinkable.

They had so many discussions that made clear how deeply their feelings for one another go, no matter if you interpret it as brotherly or romantic love. They confessed to each other so many times how they can’t live without the other, how life is meaningless if the other isn’t around. How there’s not even a point in trying to live if it isn’t to face tomorrow together and how each other’s happiness is more important than anything else in the world.

Both of them held on solely for the other, both of them are still breathing and living their truth thanks to nothing else than one another.

Their love is so fucking beautiful and pure, it stayed untouched through generations and generations of them.

Mikayu is an amazing ship and anyone would be a fool to not read Seraoh of the end just to witness such utter and raw love.

[flippinpancakes64]

How the Cullens would react to you being a newborn

*Note* This is my first ever post please be nice :(

Edward:

Super supportive

Is so so patient

Will teach you everything he knows about self control and how to best curb your hunger

Will go hunting with you every day if that's what you want

He doesn't care if you're dangerous he wants a hug so he's getting a hug

Protective x100

If Jasper still has trouble trusting you after you've mostly gotten yourself under control he will be right there telling him to back off

10/10 would let him turn me into a newborn

Alice:

Again, supportive x100

She deals with Jasper on the daily, she knows how to help with cravings and sporadic behavior

Can easily stop you from things you shouldn't do because she can see them in the future

Would go hunting with you

Would lose her patience after a while if you keep tearing the clothes she buys you tho

(Not actually she'd just be a little frustrated :) )

Would also come to your defense if Jasper or anyone else doubts that you have yourself under control

"I can literally see the future it's fine-"

Jasper:

The worst of them all probably-

He's very tough to get to in the first place

He has a dark past, most of his trauma is from Newborns

He doesn't trust you for a really long time

Super skeptical, will follow your every move ready to hold you down

He's just trying to protect his family tho

You're gonna have to be on your best behavior if you ever want him to trust you again

He'll come around eventually though with the help of his family to show him that you're adjusting well

After he's certain you're no longer a threat he will feel so bad

Cuddles x100

He's just a big softie who loves his family behind those scary eyes

Rosalie:

Ok I lied she might be the worst actually-

If you did this to yourself or had another one of the Cullens turn you chances are she's never gonna talk to you again (sorry)

I mean we all know that she hated Bella's guts until she got pregnant with Renesmee

But if you got turned by accident or by a rogue vampire attack?

Supportive x200

Mama Bear mode activated fr

She remembers what it was like all too well

The pain, the confusion, the anger, the hatred

You couldn't do a single thing wrong in her eyes

You accidentally attacked a hiker? It happens to the best of us

You broke one of the super expensive cars by closing the door too hard? It's ok Carlisle can buy a new one

Can and will defend you if anyone says you're not ready yet

Emmett:

Kinda chill tbh

Obviously since he's the strongest he's with you most of the time to hold you back if need-be

But he's more interested in making bets against anyone who will bet with him

"I smell an elk up ahead, I bet I'll get to it before they can"

"I bet I'll win in an arm wrestling contest"

"I bet they'll scream at Edward for playing that piano too loud"

Mostly is just a good supporter

He's really observant though and is a good judge on if you're ready to be alone yet or not

Esme:

Supportive x100

She hates seeing anyone in pain and you are no exception

Will give you all the tips and tricks she can think of

How to control your cravings, the best animals to hunt, the best places to go to just scream and let it all out

She's got you covered

Wouldn't be that strong of an advocate towards you being ready tho-

She acknowledges that she is not very well versed in this field and will accept Carlisle's or Jasper's judgements very seriously

She will do her best to help you though

Carlisle:

The man for the job fr

He has raised four different newborns that he created mostly all by himself

He knows exactly what to do

How to best help you, how to make sure you feel the least pain possible, how to speed up your process

Literally anything

He's very open to answer any questions you have

If you were dying and he did this to save you he'd be perfectly okay with you wanting nothing to do with him

He understands

It will take a while to fully convince him that you are in control of your urges, but one he's convinced he is on your side 100%

Vampire! Bella:

Definitely the most sympathetic

She was the most recent change, she remembers it the most

Even though she did have her self-control on her side, she still remembers how difficult it was

Will stand by your side no matter what

She's not scared of you or what you could do

To her you're still you

Will do her best to help you with anything you need

Does her best to help give you distractions if there are people nearby

Once she believes you're ready, she will not take no for an answer

She's stubborn

Very good support tho 10/10

[tragedyslut]

bully abby x nerd reader. LET'S THINK ABOUT IT

♡ shes totally not your type ♡

✶ [a.anderson] ✶

♡ BULLY!ABBYANDERSON X NERDY!FEM!READER ♡

🩷 SUMMARY — you could never like abby. she was nothing but a bully, she's totally not your type. pt2 🪽

there was no way you could ever like Abby. she was so mean. she was in most of your classes, and you couldn't stand her presence. she was everything you weren't. athletic, muscular, tough.

every time she saw you, it was either a nudge, a snicker, or some sort of tease. she couldn't stand you, obviously. you were a nerd, so to speak. you weren't muscular, or tough, or athletic. and you could tell she hated that.

on one specific day, you were hanging around out the back of the school. you just, liked it back there. it was quiet, somewhere you could think.

you thought nobody was there, until you felt someone push you out the way. it was Abby. of course it was.

she pushed you up against the wall, getting really close to you. you were so close you could practically be considered conjoined at the hip, it was definitely not comfortable.

" what the fuck are you doing out here? " Abby growled out, grabbing your shoulders and getting even closer. she smelled like lynx men cologne. the most obnoxious one, which wasn't surprising. (yes she wears lynx men. fight me.)

" .. nothing.. just- walking around. I like coming here to think.. " you mumbled out, intimidated by her being so close.

she scowled, roughly pushing you against the wall. you hit your head, and you felt your vision go black for a minute.

you saw Abbys face turn from pure hatred to fear when she saw you get visibly dizzy.

" fuck- are you okay? I didn't mean to hit you that hard- " she said, visibly panicked as she shook you to get some kind of reaction. she was clearly freaking the hell out, which was new.

" yea.. just.. dizzy. I'll be fine. " you said, staggering a bit. Abby gave you a look that said 'whathefucknoyouarenot' before dragging you over to the bleachers which sat nearby, she sat down with you on one of them. you felt a bit less dizzy, mostly just really confused. why the hell was one of the most popular, (most sexy) , and more importantly, your biggest bully, trying to help you right now?

you were convinced that you were somehow dreaming. that this was all one big joke. you half expected Abby to flykick you off the side of the bleachers about now. but instead, she was sitting there staring. she kept mumbling out 'im sorry' s and 'areyouokay's but you didn't really answer her. seeing her up close, when she wasn't ready to tear your face off and beat you up and down the school.. she was really pretty. you couldn't help but get lost in her. she was so mean.. but also so nice.

your fantasies were interrupted by Abby roughly shaking you. " you gonna answer me? are you okay? still dizzy? " she said, still seeming slightly panicked. you couldn't respond, just staring at her.

" .. do you uhm.. like girls? " you blurted out. maybe you hit your head too hard, or maybe suddenly you had the ego of a 6'2 jock. either way, you had just said that, out loud to her.

the look she gave you could've killed 20 soldiers. she was looking at you like you had grown horns.

" what the hell did you just say to me?! how hard did you hit your fucking head?! " she yelled. you couldn't make out her tone this time over your embarrassment. that also meant you didn't notice her blushing. the way she was stuttering and jumbling your words.

of course she liked girls, I mean look at her. but she wouldn't admit that to anyone. especially not you. you were so.. below her. but yet, you were so attractive to her. your eyes, your hair. everything.

for once, she wanted to blurt out her entire life story to someone. she wanted that person to be you.

so, she swallowed her pride,(quite literally),clearing her throat a few times before she mumbled out a quiet,

" .. yea. uhm.. I do. "

[moodywyrm]

Omg ellie and chubby reader just in general?!

Girl loves the way you look and I feel like she’d always wanna be touching you

Omg college au? She wants you at her dorm all. the. time. Just so she can feel up your pretty body and squish herself between your pretty boobas and/or thighs

Ellie Williams loves thick women. She told me so <3

She fucking adores you!! Thinks you're the sexiest, most gorgeous woman in the world and genuinely doesn't know how she managed to pull you because? Who knows man, she's Ellie Williams she could pull anyone. But loser college barista Ellie Williams? Dork central. Loser Rizz. (that's how she pulled you) (big fan of loser lesbians)

I know y'all know the trend of lanky gamer boys loving fat women, Ellie falls into a similar category. She fucking loves that you're bigger than her. Loves the weight of you on her lap, loves how soft you are, loves holding your curves. 80% of the time she's holding onto your soft hips, squishing at the plush fat. What can she say, it grounds her!

There are lil things about you that just make her dizzy and blushy, like the squish of your tummy when you wear crop tops, or jeans that dig into it, or bottoms that show it off. The first time you wore crop top to the cafe she nearly fainted because fucking Christ man. Or the softness of your arms! The way your thighs do the thing when you sit down! Absolutely enamored, I tell you.

Loves cuddling with you, especially during finals season. Like you're both stressed, you both need it, and what better way to destress than in the arms of your girlfriend! There have been so many instances where Ellie fell asleep on your lap or your tummy because she was so stressed with finals. poor baby :( physics is evil!

Also! Loves laying between your thighs, you're so right nonnie! Your thighs are just so big and soft and the perfect pillows and ear warmers for our girl :( how is she supposed to stay away from them? she's not! Loves holding them, pawing at them, is pretty much always gripping your thigh when she drives you around. They're just so nice!!

And your boobs! Any size boob. They're just so soft and sweet and perfect for biting! Ellie and her oral fixation, if you're a plus size girl it's just so so prevalent. Bites literally every inch of you. Covers you in hickies, including your hips! She chomps! She bites! Look at me and tell me she's not a biter. Look at me and lie to my face.

Speaking of faces. Ellie and face sitting. She has to Beg you to sit on her face, im talking on her knees pleading with you to sit on her face. You resist at first, because she's smaller than you and you don't wanna break her, but she can be very convincing <3

You try to hover and she fucking Yanks you down onto her waiting mouth, her deceptively strong arms keeping you pinned as she eats your pretty pussy. It's heaven for her, having all of your weight on her and having your cunt in her mouth. The soft weight of your thighs pressing against her, literally nothing could be better.

Or at least that's what she thinks, until you start shaking on top of her and cumming into her mouth, and Jesus fucking christ she has front row seats to the most beautiful display of pleasure she's ever seen. She's so in love dude, and your body makes her dizzy.

Ellie just. Ellie fucking Adores chubby women. So Much.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Getting some Berserk thoughts down, because the last time I was in my feelings about Griffith and the Golden Age arc, I’d promised at least one anon that I’d talk about it later and then I didn’t shfhff

But dam the Primrose Hall speech is such Wuthering Heights level miscommunication! It makes me ill!

Griffith positing that: a) having a dream is thee most important thing in the world and b) he cannot respect or consider a friend anyone who does not have their own dream (implicitly a dream different from his, so those two spheres never need interfere or threaten each other) or someone who is subordinate to him and therefore in danger of dying for his dream.

And then like five chapters later we get Casca’s flashbacks about Griffith and that immediately establishes that he is a lying liar who lies when it comes to his own emotions and guilt, but also that we can’t really know what he’s feeling in the present day, exactly, because he’s a different person now.

Contrary to what Griffith stan nation might say lol, I don’t think the dissonance between his two reactions to a child’s death directly resulting from him striving to achieve his goals is actually him just being a better liar by the Golden Age era.

He’s become indelibly crueler over the years and like, twenty is not fifteen.* He’s older and spent the entire time in between at war, killing other people, and commanding his own troops to die, for his dream. Age has hardened him. Meanwhile, him succumbing to that cruelty, to steel himself against personal grief, is literally the culmination of the Golden Age arc!

*caveat that the ages are messy, but he appears to be a teen and at least four to five years older by the Primrose Hall speech

But that flashback sequence is truly the key to Griffith’s character. It establishes both that he feels a general guilt over the blood on his hands, but also that he is motivated by a catastrophic level of sunk cost fallacy.

I also think him musing that the child must have really admired knights and wanted to be a knight himself, and that he always looked at Griffith like he was a hero out of a story is more indicative of Griffith and his initial perceptions of glory/his dream when he was younger, than simply an element of his guilt for leveraging the sense of hero worship he invokes in his followers (which is def an element at all)

It’s just very telling that this comes on the heels of Guts’ guilt over Adonis’ death and being reminded of his own younger self when seeing him.

Griffith’s own dream likely started out of naivety and simply wanting glory/to be a hero/to ascend when he started the Band of the Hawk as an adolescent. I think that child’s death represents him understanding the cost of being a mercenary, and leading people to their deaths for his own gain, when it’s far too late and he’s already sitting on a pile of corpses. And the only way to make it up is to keep grasping at his dream so that at least those deaths weren’t for nothing. I really don’t think he’s particularly torn up about Adonis’ death in the moment, but the larger abstract sense of guilt very much threatens to crush him if he ever falters.

And you know who has historically made him falter and put himself at risk, threatening his dream?

So, I think he’s very deliberately talking about Guts here actually, rather than the usual shipper line that he’s not even considering Guts when he says this.

And I think he’s very deliberately bringing up the key differences between himself and Guts (having a dream; Guts viewing himself as nothing but a tool to him despite!!! Griffith trying to convince him that they’re equals) and trying to convince himself that Guts shouldn’t mean much to him/that he cannot respect his life.

Because what’s one thing we know Griffith does? He pretends he doesn’t care while visibly caring very much.

And interestingly, what Griffith claims not to respect at all when speaking to Charlotte, seems to be what drew him to Guts in the first place. I’d argue, part of how Guts makes him falter, aside from an emotional connection, is potentially that he’s envious/tempted by the concept of being so uniquely unburdened with personal goals, considering Griffith himself is practically drowning in his own ambition.

Which, arguably, could simply be traits he values in any subordinate but not an equal. But we’re told several times by Casca that Guts is a unique case for him, that he’s never deliberately sought someone out to join him. And ostensibly, in that moment that observation is the only thing Griffith knows about him.

And it’s also worth noting that he initially simply asks Guts to join them. (More specifically he just says “I want you.” Super normal). The dual and its terms are something Guts sets, resulting in this moment.

But even after that point, he keeps trying to nudge their relationship into a more personal dynamic. Confiding in him, making it clear that he doesn’t tell anyone else these thoughts. And of course the famous scene where he insists that his own life isn’t worth more than Guts’ at all.

But Guts views himself as a sword to be wielded by Griffith (something we see Casca echo too) and keeps reinforcing the fact that he only does as Griffith demands.

And Griffith is very willing to leverage that and use Guys’ obedience to his benefit. At the heart of it, Griffith has always been mercenary even about this relationship. He’s very much trying to have his cake and eat it too, where his close personal friend and confidant is also his dog who he can bring to heel whenever it suits him.

It is very telling the way Griffith reacts when Guts tries to leave him. Where when he realizes he can’t talk him out of it, he decides to make him stay.

To me, this all ties back to the Primrose Hall speech, and how Griffith is trying to distance himself from his feelings for Guts, because he’s so much closer to his goals at that point. And ostensibly both the Princess’ favor and the attempt on his own life have made him really reevaluate how close he is to achieving something real and to not let something petty like feelings get in the way of that.

…and then Guts breaks up with him and everything falls to pieces.

[moldygenshin]

Overcast

Neuvillette x Female Reader 🌧️ANGST

This is my first fic so it’s a bit short and I wrote this a few months ago, go easy on me.

In which you are convicted of murdering your and Neuvillette’s infant son.

Your hair is dirty from being unwashed and the scornful treatment of your fellow Fontaine citizens didn’t aid in your torment; all events due to an outrageous allegation. They forbade you from entering your residence; your husband no help of course. He was always prickly when situations came to justice. Whether or not you were the one he was judging. Evidence was stacked against you regardless.

But you’d never kill your week old son?

How could a mother, such as yourself, be subjected to the ideology of killing your own flesh and blood that couldn’t fend for himself?

He was just an infant. Your husband was over the moon at the fact you finally convinced a child; an heir. Nonetheless, girl or boy, he was grinning every time he saw the baby. He would coo, blow raspberries on his little chubby cheeks, and play with his fat baby hands. When your son would cry, your husband would come to the rescue. He never cared about how slobbery, spit-uppy, or poopy your baby was.

Granted you only had him for a week and the skies of fontaine had never been sunnier. You couldn’t have prevented the events that unfolded. No matter who you paid or notified; it was clear someone had it out for you. The Chief Iudex couldn’t see it.

He was heartbroken and overwhelmed with grief when he was notified that his infant son’s body was found in an alley along with you. Albeit, you were dazed, bleary eyed, and slightly injured even so you were still the prime suspect. All anyone could hear that night was “Where’s my baby boy?” and the agonizing cries that left the deepest most primal part of you. The next morning it was a typhoon… emotionally and literally. The streets of Fontaine were covered with the tears of your husband; his shattered heart caused the raging storm.

“Ms. Name, according to the judgment of The Oratrice Mecanique d’Analyse Cardinale you are hereby declared guilty of murdering your infant child.” Neuvillette says with a shaky voice; his hands trembling with grief and uncertainty. Tears fill his waterline as he stares at your wide eyes and flushing cheeks. Of course he loves you, boundlessly, but evidence isn’t in your favor this time. No matter how you pleaded and begged; nothing would change his mind.

His verdict was settled and by the evening you were shipped off to The Fortress of Meropide. You cried and reasoned with him only for him to say, “It has been decided.” He turns to face you, “You stole our son from me.”

“My love, I would never kill him! We were the perfect family!” You sob as you try to reach out to him. Again you only had him for a week.

Neuvillette pushes you away gently “Name, you're being hysterical. You were the only one with him who else could have killed our son?” He says with a strained voice as he watches you get dragged by guards.

“I will remember this Neuvillette!” You scream in anger, “I will avenge myself and my son! If only you hadn’t denied my request to be escorted home; none of the heartache and pain would be here!” You muster with a choked sob. And that was the last you ever saw of Neuvillette.

[bringcal]

This was inspired due to wolfertinger666's post I've just reblogged, and will be a long one, but bare with me here.

I been on the internet like way too long and too young for my age, and I never understood spreading callouts. I don't think I ever have in my life. Before I even understood them as a tool used to socially kill trans people and push an agenda of anti-queerness, I always just thought the contents tended to be stupid, and vast majority of callouts often like to use different manipulation and deception tactics that the average person can easily be manipulated by. I think most abuse survivors can agree with me here that they have at least seen one callout in their lives where they have read and easily recognized what the person spreading the callout was doing was emotional manipulation.

I have always been that person who reaches out to the person subject of the callout to help them, and I've always been disgusted in the anti-critical thinking and pro-harassment sentiments surrounding callouts, because those are the exact same things that I've been subject to after being in an abusive relationship online.

When I talk to people victims of callouts, they often have the same fears as I do due to me being in an abusive relationship: Paranoia people are stalking you, not feeling safe to share anything, having to change identities to get away from the harassment, etc. And thats because people who make callouts and create harassment mobs use the same abuse tactics. I had to delete all my accounts, change names, interests, and stay off the internet for months to try and get away from my abuser, because he would stalk me and get others to do the same, and convinced everyone that I was the one being shitty. I stayed paranoid, and sometimes still do, that I will be "found" and messaged again even though its been 6 years since we broke up.

When you have experience yourself in this sort of thing, you realize people who change their identities to get away from callouts aren't trying to "get away" due to nefarious reasons. they just want to live and grow, they want an actual support system and to be better, and never consented to their faults being publicized, and a lot of the time their faults being put on them have never even happened, or are blown out of proportion. It started to click when you realize callouts often try their best to dehumanize the person at hand, and really try to hammer in the " born inherently evil" or "too far gone" point to get people to socially outcast their victims. It often works even with people who would normally be against that sort of thing, I notice a lot of people end up deleting the callout they helped spread later saying they don't actually care or realize how ridiculous the op is being, without realizing the op still got what they wanted. Callouts only spread if theyre able to get you to that " reactionary " level of emotion to manipulate you to just doing anything.

People don't realize that the thing theyre doing actually has lasting effects on the other person. The thing you reblog that you care about for 2 days and then forget will follow the other person forever, because TERFs and Kiwifarms motherfuckers are a different breed of passionate for harassment. My IRL bestfriend I've known for a decade has a girlfriend who made a joke 6 years ago that went viral that everyone took seriously and she still, to this day, gets messages harassing her. The joke wasnt even offensive or directed at anyone, people literally just hated her because she was a communist.

So anyways, I don't like callout posts and neither should you. Make no exception. Literally just keep it to yourself and gossip with friends. Reactionary harassment campaigns do nothing. You're one "fuck up" or one "walking into the wrong person" to getting one yourself. Don't allow callout makers to turn your brain off.

[jaebeomsbitch]

Cherry Lips II (E.M)

Pt: I |Pt III: In progress

Summary: Being irrevocably in love with your best friend leads to love confessions in laundry rooms

Pairing: Bestfriend! Eddier x Single Mom! Reader

Warning: Kissing

A/N: I get too into my head about writing. Literally put this off for so long and then just finished 75% it in less than an hour. I need to get out of my head. Never edited as always lol

Taglist: sleepie-bunnie skrzydlak tlclick73 cuvntt twirls827 goth-cowgirl-03 manda-panda-monium ali-r3n gublerstylesobrien1238 antagonize-me-motherfucker veemoon witchwolflea ryanmxrie josephquinnsfreckles strangerfan3691 akiratoro420 babydollface1165 mygirlchaos eddiesguitarskills middle-of-the-earth bandaids-n-porcelain graciehams eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

It had been months since that night on the kitchen counter with Eddie. Your maternal leave ran out a long time ago. Eddie insisted that you quit your job and stay home with the baby but you always promised you’d never be dependent on a man even though you were. You wanted the option to be able to leave if anything happened. 

Wayne and your mom help you out with the baby. Wayne takes her on his days off. Eddie cooing as he leaves yelling “Have fun with your grandpa.” Eddie saw Wayne as a father figure more than his own deadbeat dad. Wayne was there to teach him about growing into a young man. He was there to give him dating advice and the rare baby advice. Wayne took to taking care of your baby naturally despite never having a kid of his own. 

You could tell he’s going to be the best grandpa ever with the way he treats your daughter. Exactly like Eddie does, with fragility and care, their eyes sparkling with a deep love. Today Wayne took the baby despite it being your day off grumbling about having some time to yourself. 

It isn’t until Wayne leaves that you notice the vase on the dining table, magnolias. You look at them confused, where’d they come from? You walk towards them, brushing the petals lightly between your fingers thinking of what Robin said. You were a magnolia. 

“You like them?” Eddie says, startling you. You clutch your chest, heart pounding against your rib cage. 

“Holy fuck Eds, scared the shit outta me” you say feeling your heart beat slow down when you know it’s Eddie. 

“Well isn’t this a familiar sight?” He says with a smirk on his lips. Your face flushing remembering the kitchen incident. You tried to push the memory back but you always ended up in the shower, fingers knuckle deep inside you as you bite your arm trying not to moan. You let go of your chest lightly laughing trying to push past the awkwardness. 

“Yeah I like them. Where’d you get ‘em?” You ask turning back towards the flowers, picking the one in your hand up and smelling it. Your face brightening, a big smile adorning your face. You were a big beautiful fucking magnolia and you’d never let anyone tell you otherwise. 

“Just thought you’d appreciate something pretty in the house,” he shrugs.

“You know Robin said I was like a magnolia tree, full of love,” you murmur lost in thought, fingertip tracing the delicate petal. 

“Oh I know,” he says, leaving you to yourself. It takes a second for you to realize what he just said. 

Knew… he knew? How the fuck did he know? He had to have overheard the phone call or Rob told him. But she’d never tell him…right? Your best friend wouldn’t totally tell your other best friend that you were head over heels for him would she? Oh fuck you’re panicking… Maybe it meant nothing? Maybe he’s just agreeing with Robin? Okay it’s no big deal. Totally not anything, you try to convince yourself as you grab your hamper and walk downstairs to the basement to do laundry. 

There’s no way he knows anything, Eddie was dead asleep and you’d never done anything obvious… besides the occasional ogle when he’s got his back turned to you. Fuck that back, you bite your lip as you separate the darks from light. No, No horny thoughts of Eddie especially not when it’s just the two of you in the house tonight. You swallow your spit, as you pour in the detergent and softener. 

“Hey, I’ve been talking to you?” Eddie says louder than normal which startles you. You bang your knee on the washer, the lid slamming closed. You cradle your knee, hobbling around to look at Eddie with a pained look on your face. 

“Mhm?” you hum in a high pitched tone, trying not to press too hard onto your aching knee cap. 

“Shit, you all right?” He says, walking quickly across the basement towards you. Once again you find yourself being lifted by the waist but this time on the lid of the washer. 

“Stop scaring me!” you groan, slapping his arm.

“Stop being so fucking jumpy then” he retorts, folding your pajama pants and inspecting your knee. His fingers gentle as they brush your kneecap but you can’t help the visceral reaction you have. Your face scrunching up, hands reaching for his shirt squeezing the fabric in your palms. 

“Fuck,” you groan again.

“S’not bleeding, think you just need some ice and to rest it,” He murmurs looking up at your face, you can tell because his breath hits your chin. Why was he so God damn close? Your heart beat races in your chest, lump forming in your throat.

“Okay,” you breathe out, fluttering your eyes open. You thought he’d step back but he doesn’t move. For the first time since you were teens you can see the familiar spray of faint freckles on the bridge of his nose. You’d always scolded him for not wearing sunscreen which he always met with an eye roll. 

“Oh, sorry,” You say, realizing you’re quite literally pulling him towards you. You let go of his shirt wiping your sweating palms on the soft fleece of your pajamas. The throbbing in your knee replaced by a different kind of throbbing as you inhale his scent. It’s changed slightly, now he smells like detergent and motor oil. He used to smell like weed and musk but he’d given it up since you got pregnant, always said he didn’t want to expose the baby to it.

“I know,” he says, voice deep and gravelly. 

“Hmm?” you say, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, trying your best not to look down at those pink lips of his. 

“I know,” he simply repeats, pressing himself forward, face centimeters from yours. You try to scoot back but hit your head on the cabinet. 

“God you can’t fucking help it can you?” he says clearly amused by the way you’re always hurting yourself in front of him. 

“You know?” you ask, trying to press him for more as you rub the back of your head but he swats your hand away, fingers finding the soft tresses of your hair gently massaging the area of impact until you relax in his hold. 

“Mhm,” he hums. Clearly he was playing some sort of game. Eddie always liked to fuck with you, he’d play little prank on you. Like once in high school he’d convinced you that you’d forgotten an important day. You’d spent the entire day wracking your brain for the thing you forgot even asking all of hellfire who gave you the cold-shoulder. It was something stupid like a year from the first time you let him borrow your good pen.

“Okay… what do you know?” you ask, looking up at his chocolate brown eyes.

“Something,” he sing songs mischievously as he presses his hips into the side of the washing machine, your legs dangling on either side of his hips. 

“God you’re annoying?” you roll your eyes but a small smile threatens to overtake your lips. 

“You sure ‘bout that?” he asks, fingers moving from your scalp to hold onto the back of your head, his thumb brushing the underside of your jaw. Your breath hitches. It’s too much. If Eddie was fucking with you’d probably have a mental break down. 

“You know?” you ask, trying to cross that barrier without saying it. You gulp, fingers reaching for his waist, softly pressing into his back as he presses closer and closer. Your faces a centimeter from each other, breaths mixing as you both practically pant for breath. He doesn’t respond and you don’t dare break the moment as his big doe eyes flick down to your lips and back to your eyes as if silently asking for permission. You nod ever so slightly, heart hammering in your chest. Was this real? Please God let this be real. You couldn't wake up to dream like this again, it broke a piece of your heart every time you dreamed of the press of his lips on yours…and so much more. 

His lips press against the corner of your mouth, fingers dipping down to your waist pulling you impossibly closer until you feel the hardpress of his cock through his jeans. You gulp as he takes a moment as if giving you time to back out. Fuck no, you’d been dreaming of it for so long, pressing your fingers into your pussy wishing it was his length. 

He presses a soft hiss to your lips, its gentle and sweet as you move against each other. Your fingers moving from his hips to tangle in his curls. You kiss him with a bigger sense of desperation and he matches your pace. Every year he’s held back pressing forward, every year he held back his jealousy making him slip his tongue into your mouth, every year you weren’t his, had him cradling your head tongue lapping against yours until you can’t breathe but you don’t dare to move away. Instead you wrap your legs around his lithe waist. 

He pulls back panting, “Fuck.” His gentle fingers press into your scalp, lips pressing softly into the place between your jaw and neck, his other hand caressing your neck, thumb brushing your soft skin, his nose skirting the soft line of your jaw. It’s so tender and sweet just like Eddie has always been with you despite your earlier makeout session. 

“Eds,” You say breathlessly. He hums against your skin in acknowledgement. 

“I love you, so much,” you whisper, fingers gripping his shirt, as you choke up with emotion. All your longing spilling forward like a leak in a dam. 

“I love you too,” He responds, eyelashes fluttering against your jaw. You can hear the imperceptible crack in his voice. Your hands immediately sliding towards his back pressing into it softly trying to comfort him, silently apologizing for being so stupid.

He takes a second to collect himself to look at your eyes again. His eyes wet with unshed tears, with silent longing love and adoration to match yours. You press a soft kiss to his lips, saying sorry over and over again. You’d always imagined this super passionate, rough, sexual encounter with Eddie just like the stories he’d described but… that wasn’t him now. He was always your kind hearted and sweet boy. 

“I love you,” You murmur against his lips, tears dripping down your eyes as you hold his face. You can taste the saltiness on his lips as your tears mix together. He pulls back, thumbs brushing away your stray tears whispering an “I love you too.” You take a moment just to revel in the warmth of this moment, eyes searching each other as if they contained every secret of the universe. 

[jiaoqiu-s-bitch]

hi, i read your hcs for nagi earlier and i finally got the courage to request something too! :) can i get sfw and nsfw hcs with bachira? thank you in advance, and keep up the good work!

Oh sweetie, there’s no need to be shy, especially not about sending in an ask!! I promise I don’t bite (or do I-?😏)

Thank you so much for sending in this request, enjoy!!

————————————————————————

Bachira Meguru - fluffy/spicy hcs || 18+ (under cut)

sfw:

• Bachira is absolutely the kind of boyfriend where you would say "He’s not only my partner, he’s also my best friend"

• he’s not someone you would call "romantic", but he is just very affectionate in general and will constantly give you little gifts and trinkets (ex.: a plushy that reminded him of you)

• if you go to the beach together, he will come running to you with a new shell that he just found every few minutes; he will absolutely insist on taking all of them back home, he’s a collector (not only of shells, also just of the most random things ever)

• he’s overall a very giving partner and doesn’t expect anything in return, he honestly just loves making you smile and being able to laugh with you

• it’s very important to him that you get along well with his mom, which is honestly not hard at all because she’s an absolute sweetheart (when you first met her she was like "Nice to meet the future Mrs. Bachira!")

• the lock screen on his phone is probably a picture of you drooling in your sleep or something of that sort; he is, however, open to negotiations - you could definitely convince him to take a cute picture of the two of you instead (only if it’s silly enough, everything has to be silly with Bachira)

• he definitely sets that drooly pic as his home screen instead though

• speaking of, his social media is FILLED with pictures of you and him (and pics of just you); he only has one account, his official one, but he uses it like a spam account because he genuinely dgaf - and that’s beside the fact that he just thinks you’re absolutely perfect and wants everyone to see

• it has occurred multiple times that you had to practically beg for him to take a picture down because you think you look absolutely horrendous in it, so now he SOMETIMES asks you first before he uploads anything (you had to give him an actual checklist of things to watch out for that are a no-go, selfies with your sleeping form are one of them)

• Bachira is extremely laid-back because he has full faith in you and your relationship, so jealousy is nothing that would ever even come up from his side

• on the flip side, it’s better if you are not on the jealous side either because Bachira is just extremely friendly and pretty touchy with basically everyone

• he has absolutely no shame and "personal space" is a term that simply does not exist in his vocabulary, neither with you nor with anyone else, so if you value your personal space from time to time, you’re gonna have to be very explicit about it and explain it to him

• he’ll TRY to respect it but I feel like he literally just doesn’t know any boundaries, like, this man would not bat an eye when you’re sitting on the toilet; he would barge in, do what he came to do, wish you good luck and walk back out💀👋🏼 (he strikes me as the type that wouldn’t even close the door behind him iabfosbfls)

• I am convinced that Bachira watches old kid shows from time to time, mainly because they remind him of his childhood, but opposed to back then, he now has someone to watch them with🥺 (pls that’s so sad but so wholesome)

• does the grabby hands whenever he wants cuddles/a hug, his eyes practically staring into your soul and making it impossible to deny him - he’s a very physical person, so expect LOTS of random hugs and cuddles, both at home and in public

~~~

nsfw:

• this man is freaky and NEEDY - can and will go whenever and wherever without hesitation

• he is definitely not against sex in (semi-)public places, in fact, he might actually prefer that over doing it at home - he’s kinda an exhibitionist and no one can convince me otherwise

• he’s utterly in love with you and your body, he literally loves everything about you and he’s not afraid to show it in every way he can; mainly in the form of praising and showing you off

• Bachira has absolutely no shame WHATSOEVER, actually, he definitely has the fantasy of doing it in front of a webcam at least once; he also casually offered some of his teammates to watch the two of you going at it before (they thought it was a joke except for Otoya and probably Lavinho tbh, they wanted to take him up on it)

• ok but hear me out… GOING LATE NIGHT SKINNY DIPPING WITH BACHIRA. that’s it, just think about it.

• his favorite thing ever is pleasuring you with his fingers; eating you out is a close second, but nothing beats watching your facial expressions up close when he’s working you to ecstasy

• he’s not into edging at all, but he’s extremely into overstimulation - both on you and on himself, so the good news is you won’t have to beg him to let you cum, the bad news is you might have to beg him to stop LOL

• you don’t know how the man does it, but he somehow does not slow down at all even after reaching his own climax, and he just keeps going until his body can literally take no more; you better match his libido cause both his stamina and energy are fucking crazy, bro’s a monster (lol)

• Bachira would oftentimes wake you up in the middle of the night because he’s horny - well, he’d keep grinding himself against you for some relief, you waking up is honestly just a matter of time cause he’s not exactly holding back

• on the contrary, he will keep whispering to you all the while, moaning shamelessly into your ear "Mmmh I really really need you baby… Gonna help me take care of this, aren’t you? Ohhh, my good girl…"

• he genuinely adores the way your body reacts to his touches even when asleep, it gives him some kind of kick, even more so when he manages to build up your orgasm without you being fully conscious - though if you’ve made it this far without waking up, he’ll definitely be waking you up now for the grand finale

• he’s a big fan of finishing together; it’s like the ultimate bonding experience for him, and he’s naturally incredibly good at managing both of your pleasure to time your climaxes perfectly

• his favorite positions are basically all positions that allow him to see your face and to let his hands roam freely all over your body (aka he’s not a fan of positions that require him to hold you in place)

• after sex, he usually just wants to cuddle up to you (preferably still naked), rubbing his face against yours affectionately with a happy grin to make you giggle before settling in for a little (or big) nap

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 16k 🙈

contains: explicit sexual content 👀 literally jumps immediately into it (well.... you'll see 🤭) so buckle up!!! also features: hotel drama, reader being v dumb in classic reader fashion but she gets there, a whole lotta tension and angst and misplaced anger, some new friends!!! and yes they're 3 idols see if you can figure out who 🤪, erotic bed sharing and handholding lmfao, probably the most drinking that has happened in a chapter yet (which is saying a lot honestly), of course the GRAMMY RESULTS.... oh yeah and yoongi in glasses, yoongi in a suit, yoongi playing piano, yoongi almost getting in a fight, yoongi rapping, yoongi WEARING CAT EARS (yes these are all warnings!!!!!! 😩) - ok and here are ur smut specific warnings: semi-public sex (mile high club anyone ✈️), cunnilingus, fingering, sex dreams, nipple play, dirty talk, reader has a voice kink 🥴, clit stim, unprotected sex AGAIN 💀, she squirts again don't @ me lmao, aaaaand some lovely mouth/throat fuckin 🫡

A/N: i feel like i have nothing to say that isn't just overwhelming gratitude to you all for being here 🥺 so i'll keep it short!!! sit back and get comfy bc this one's a lot, here we go y'all..... you ready?? 💜

A/N 2: as of 5/27, this chapter has been updated to remove the instances of anti-asian discrimination. i want to expressly state how sorry i am to those who were hurt or otherwise upset by the original content. please know that i mean it when i say i am fully committed to listening and doing better moving forward. 💜

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for their help betaing!!!

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

You don’t know how you let Yoongi talk you into this.

You honestly can’t remember, at least not right now, not with your ass perched on the edge of the sink counter and his hands making quick work to tug your sweats and underwear down and off, one ankle at a time.

The place is cleaner than any airplane bathroom you’ve ever been in, and certainly much less cramped. First class really spares no expense, you’ve learned. It’s an upgrade Yoongi made for both of you at the check-in counter unprompted, his only explanation mumbled into the rim of his iced Americano once you’d settled at a table in the fancy lounge: “Economy seats fuck my back up, and I figured if I left you behind you’d push me into LA traffic at your first opportunity.”

You might still do it, if only because he’s managed to convince you to do this again. Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?

“I’m starting to think you have a bathroom fetish,” you murmur, not quite managing to keep your voice steady. Your fingers rake through Yoongi’s long dark hair as he situates himself properly on his knees between your legs, his hands pressing your thighs to spread you wider.

“Are you complaining?” he grunts back, and you lose the ability to form a coherent response as he leans in and traces his tongue up your folds.

You nearly bang your head on the mirror with the way your spine instinctively arches at the feeling, your hips tilting up for as much of his mouth as you can get.

“Shit,” you hiss as he starts to fuck the muscle of his tongue into your entrance, his thumb swiping up through your wetness before settling into rough circles over your clit. “Why are you so fucking good at this?”

Once he’s thoroughly tasted you, Yoongi quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, flexing against your front wall at a brutal pace, like he’s realized you can’t take too long in here. His lips close around your clit as his tongue laps over it in thick strokes, and your hips circle hungrily, grinding on him.

“That’s it,” he pulls off just enough to gasp. “Ride my face. Wanna make you come so I can fuck this tight little pussy.” Just the rough tone of his voice is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

When his lips and tongue return to your cunt, you don’t hold back.

You fist the hand tangled in his hair, your other palm smacking flat to the counter for balance as you throw a leg over his shoulder, and you swear you can hear him laughing while you press your heel into his back to pull him even closer. His mouth is warm and wet and divine, the way he licks and sucks at your throbbing clit overwhelming. He strokes his fingers deftly into your g-spot, working up enough arousal that it’s started to run down the crux of your thighs. You roll your hips again and gasp at the way his tongue drags just right over you.

“Oh god, Yoongi,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, too lost in it to worry about being quiet. You can feel it as he keeps his tongue laid out flat for you to use as you please. Everything in you pulls tight as you rut yourself against his face in time to the building pressure worked up in your core by his unrelenting fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

The plane dips sharply, and you lurch upright with a gasp as your eyes snap open. There’s a few more seconds of shuddering bumps, and then you seem to find clear skies again.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit back and try to steady your breathing, the world slowly coming into focus: the TV screen in front of you, your purse tucked into the shelf beneath it, beige privacy walls surrounding you on all sides.

Fuck. You lean forward, letting your head drop between your knees as reality sinks in. You’re not in the bathroom. You’re in your stupid first-class seat. It was a dream. A fucking airplane sex dream.

Panic carves through you like a knife as questions bubble up in your mind: What if you said something in your sleep? Did Yoongi hear you? Is he sitting on the other side of the wall with that fucking smirk on his face, endlessly smug in the knowledge that he haunts you even in your dreams?

Immediately convinced that he is, you can’t help yourself. You press your hands flat to the divider between you and just barely lift out of your seat so you can peek over it.

But Yoongi looks entirely unchanged from the last time you saw him several hours earlier: he’s got his headphones on and is slouched over his laptop, frowning down at the screen, thoroughly engrossed in work.

Just as you’re breathing a sigh of relief, he glances up, and your eyes widen.

“Can I help you?” he grunts, not even bothering to pull his headphones off. You don’t think it’s a double entendre, but you don’t want to entertain him long enough to find out.

“No,” you snap, and then you slump back down to the safety of your seat, slamming the controller on the wall until you’re fully horizontal. You tug the provided headphones over your ears, hoping they might block out your racing thoughts as you desperately try to ignore the dull ache between your legs.

~*~

Getting any more sleep proves to be an impossible task, your mind too keyed up at the possibility of another airplane bathroom dream. By the time you make it through the rest of the flight, and customs, and the car ride to your hotel, you’re nearly delirious with exhaustion, and your body is thoroughly confused about what fucking time it is, though your phone says it’s apparently the middle of the night.

Your brain feels like it’s been in a blender, your reaction time so slowed that, standing at the hotel check-in counter, it takes you several seconds to process the words leaving the front desk agent’s mouth.

She must be able to read the dumbfounded look on your face, because she repeats herself. “King bed executive suite for three nights?”

“Um, no,” you finally manage to stammer, and though he makes no discernible noise of reaction, it’s like you can feel Yoongi smirking over your shoulder. “No, we need— I booked a room with two queens.”

The agent purses her lips slightly, then shakes her head as she stares down at her computer. “Mm, I’m seeing in the system that we have you down for one king.”

Your exhaustion steamrolls over whatever professionality you might normally have while conducting a business transaction. “I don’t care what your fucking system says, it’s wrong. That’s not what I booked.” Scrolling through your phone for a few seconds, you manage to dig up the email, and you’re almost more compelled to show it to Yoongi, just to make sure he’s well aware— you did not fuck this up.

“See, two queens,” you reiterate helplessly as you extend the receipt on your phone toward the agent.

She tuts once, her eyes barely glancing over at your phone before returning to her computer screen. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like we have any availability to switch you. Given the Grammys are on Sunday, this is quite a busy weekend for us.”

You set your phone on the counter and try to keep your breathing steady, to remain calm despite the overwhelmed panic starting to rise in your chest.

“About that,” you say, doing your best to speak in an even voice. “We wanted to keep a low profile, but my… associate here is actually a nominee. For Song of the Year?” You hate that it comes out more like a question as your gaze flits to Yoongi for the briefest of seconds, then back to the front desk agent. “So, really, if there’s anything at all you could do, we would appreciate it.”

There’s a pause as she regards you for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight smile, and then she speaks again. “I really do apologize, but a mistake on your part does not constitute an emergency on ours. No matter who the accommodation is for.”

It takes a second for your jetlag-addled brain to process the words, and their direct contrast to the forced sunny expression on her face. If you were in a better state of mind you might be able to take a breath, state your case more calmly, or figure out some other alternative, but instead all you can manage is a knee jerk reaction.

Because you can’t be in a room with Min Yoongi and only one bed.

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.” 

A hand pressed to your bicep nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Despite every cell in your body urging you to lunge over the counter, you don’t fight it when Yoongi pulls you back a few paces, giving enough room for him to take your place at the counter.

“It’s fine,” he mutters over his shoulder.

It feels like your heart is beating a mile a minute, enough that you can hardly keep up with the soft apology he concedes to the agent. She hands him the room keys without another word, that same fake smile still plastered over her face. With one last nasty look over your shoulder, you follow Yoongi toward the elevators, dragging your suitcase along behind you.

Practically seething, you can barely manage to wait until the doors slide shut before you pounce.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I did not fucking book a single bed room.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I just want to sleep. Whatever that was about to turn into wasn’t worth the trouble.”

The doors slide open with a soft chime, and you storm after him down the hall to your room as he continues, pressing the key to the reader and pushing the door open. “Besides, I've stayed here before, and I know these suites have couches.” He holds the door and gestures for you to enter first, and you do.

He's not wrong: there’s a small living room area with a sofa, a desk, and a television mounted into a wall that effectively separates it from the bedroom on the other side, though there isn’t actually a door. The bathroom is immediately to your left as you step inside.

“So,” Yoongi says simply as the door shuts behind him. “I'll take the couch. All good.”

Of fucking course.

The rational part of your brain knows that he has done nothing to upset you. He's been quiet and polite on your long day of travel, and is treating you simply as if you were business acquaintances. It all makes perfect sense, given that you told him your night at his apartment couldn’t mean anything. He's done everything you’ve asked of him, really.

And yet it’s all of it: your stupid sex dream, the lingering bad taste of your encounter with the hotel agent, and the fact that Yoongi can’t seem to even fathom the idea of sharing a bed with you, not here and certainly not at his apartment. Everything has you simmering with a sudden vicious, unreasonable anger.

“Do whatever you want,” you snap as Yoongi sets his suitcase down on the floor of the living room. “I don’t give a shit.”

The rage burns like acid in your gut as you move through your night routine in the bathroom, and it’s only worsened by the knowledge that your alarm will be going off in just a few hours, and you’ll have to drag yourself through a long day of press and prep for Sunday. And that Yoongi will be there, through all of it, just like he’s on the other side of the door right now, inescapably and overwhelmingly present.

It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time. As you spit toothpaste into the sink, you wonder why the fuck you ever agreed to go on this stupid trip.

~*~

You don’t think you manage more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. Despite exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, you toss and turn and kick at the blankets, too frustrated by all the confusing feelings churned up inside of you to be able to slip into any kind of real rest.

When you glance at the clock for the millionth time, it’s now only thirty minutes until your alarm is due to go off. With a sigh, you decide to give up.

Your mind is already racing with the schedule for the day, and you go over it a million times in your head as you shower and dress and apply your makeup. When you emerge from the bathroom already entirely put together, Yoongi is on the couch blinking blearily at his phone, clearly having just woken up.

“The car will be here at seven,” you call over your shoulder without a second glance back at him.

He grunts his acknowledgement, and after a few moments you hear the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut again. You dig your work laptop out of your purse to double-check everything, and before you know it you’re sucked into confirming specifics and answering emails, and you completely lose track of time.

The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat snaps you back to reality, and you shut your laptop as you glance up to find him standing in the threshold of the bedroom. He’s dressed nicely for his many interviews, in a sky-blue button-down, and you have to blink twice as you take in his appearance.

“You wear glasses?”

The warm lamplight of the bedroom reflects off his lenses as he shrugs. “I don’t like to. But I forgot my contacts.”

“We can stop for some on the way to your fitting,” you answer, adding it to your mental to-do list. The reminder of your booked itinerary is enough to get you to your feet, one arm wrapped around your laptop to press it close to your chest. Trying to remember what else you need to do to get ready proves impossible as Yoongi steps closer, and then you hear him laugh softly under his breath.

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

“You have that look on your face,” he says simply, and you can feel an embarrassed heat creep up your neck. You hate that after all this time, he can still read you like a book.

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He continues to close the distance between you, and you take a reflexive step backward, only for your thighs to bump against the mattress behind you. “Would’ve worn these more often if I knew they’d get you all flustered.”

You attempt to argue that you’re not flustered, but the words die on your tongue with the realization of how close Yoongi is to you now. His eyes are fixed pointedly on your mouth. “I—” you try again, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m not—”

The sharp buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand makes both of you start, and it’s like you can think clearly again when Yoongi steps back to give you room to grab it. You thumb open the text with one hand as you shove your laptop into your purse with the other. “They’re downstairs.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else to you until you’re in the car, crawling through Los Angeles traffic. “Remind me what all we’re doing today?”

You stare out the windshield, not wanting to meet his gaze as you recount the schedule that’s permanently seared into your brain. “You have press interviews in Studio City all morning until one. We’ll pick up lunch— and we can grab you some contacts, too— and then you have a fitting in Beverly Hills at two. After that, your boss wants us to tour the office out here and take a few meetings with the team, so that’ll be the rest of the afternoon. And then I guess whenever we’re done with that, the label execs want to take us to dinner after.”

He’s silent for long enough that you’re forced to glance over at him, wondering if he was even paying attention. There’s a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite read as smug. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

“What?” you snap in response, probably a little harsher than he deserves, but you haven’t had coffee yet.

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “It’s just funny, compared to when you first started.” He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting back slightly in his seat. “I remember when you couldn’t even use Outlook.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I guess people change.”

“Guess so.”

The day passes in a hectic blur, and though ostensibly all of your scheduled engagements are meant to be about Yoongi, you find yourself just as busy as he is, if not moreso.

His press interviews run long because of course they do, and you’re forced to drop him at his fitting while you run out to pick up lunch and contacts— and most importantly, more coffee, which you desperately require to survive the rest of the day.

You’re admittedly thankful for the extra tasks. Even if you do feel dead on your feet, it’s still preferable to sitting around and watching Yoongi try on a suit. You can easily recall firsthand how deadly the image is, and putting off that suffering until the real thing tomorrow is perfectly fine, as far as you’re concerned.

The coffee gives you just enough of a caffeine boost to power through your afternoon meetings, reviewing branding strategies and opportunities for collaborative promotions with the label’s overseas team. Your heart sinks a little when you go through the marketing summary slides prepared by Jungkook, not a single detail out of place, and you try to shove thoughts of him to the back of your mind so you can focus on the work.

At dinner, it’s all you can do to not fall asleep over your extremely overpriced sashimi. Yoongi’s been pulled away to the far side of the table for what you can only assume are deeply boring conversations with the Los Angeles production team. Thankfully, your side is a bit more lively.

“Matthew,” the A&R rep who you’re pretty sure introduced herself as Tiffany stage-whispers. You realize she’s speaking to the tall and ridiculously built guy seated next to you when her gaze flits up to him, and then she resumes poring over the extensive drink menu. “Can we get sake bombs?”

“Why are you asking me?” Matthew responds, and you look over to see his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re in finance! I need you to tell me that I can get white-girl wasted on the label’s dime tonight.”

He sighs for a moment, like he’s trying to think. “I don’t… actually know if we’re allowed to reimburse that.” Tiffany’s lower lip trembles, dangerously adorable, and he exhales as if he’s been defeated. “Fuck it. I’ll cover it out of pocket if we can’t.”

“God, I love you,” she breathes, chasing the comment with a throaty laugh and quickly flagging down a server to order. “Can we please do thr— Vernon, baby, how old are you?”

The intern seated next to her blinks slowly. “Twenty four?” You’re pretty sure those are his first words of the evening.

“Huh. Your skincare’s doing wonders,” Tiffany shakes her head disbelievingly. “Four sake bombs, please?”

They arrive in an instant, and Tiffany smiles proudly to herself as she balances her shot glass on a pair of chopsticks laid across the top of her beer. You follow Matthew and Vernon’s lead as they set their drinks up to mirror hers.

“To Matthew’s wallet,” Tiffany toasts solemnly. “The only thing bigger than his tits.”

As if in hearty agreement, Matthew bangs his fist against the table so hard it makes everyone in a five foot radius flinch, and all four of your shot glasses plummet into the awaiting beers beneath them.

“Kanpai, motherfuckers!” Tiffany cackles, and you throw your drinks back in perfect sync.

The rowdiness of your corner is too loud to be ignored, and your stomach twists slightly as you set your empty glass down only to catch Yoongi staring from across the table. When your eyes meet his, he quickly lowers his gaze and adjusts his glasses, his mouth pulling into a flat line.

You turn back to your new friends as Tiffany finishes her own drink. As if she just witnessed the silent exchange, she leans toward you.

“So,” she drops her voice a little lower, “What’s it like working with Suga?”

Doing your best to keep your face neutral, you inhale deeply, wondering where to begin, or what would even be workplace-appropriate to say. The jetlag makes your mind move that much slower. “It’s—”

“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.”

Vernon nearly spits the last swallow of his drink back out.

“Tiffany,” Matthew interjects, sounding exhausted, like this is a regular occurrence. “Don’t fucking say that to someone you just met.”

“I mean,” you concede, your lips loosened by the warm rush of alcohol. “She’s not wrong.”

Matthews eyes widen, and he purses his lips for a long pause before he finally speaks. “Shiiiiiit, okay. Alright then.”

You sigh, slumping to rest your cheek in your hand, so exhausted that you can barely stay upright. “I don’t know if ‘sleeping with’ is the right term. It’s just a… mistake that we’ve made. A few times. Several, I guess.”

“I bet he’s even richer than Matthew,” Tiffany says, awestruck, clearly more to herself than to you.

“If it’s a mistake, why do you keep making it?” Vernon asks bluntly.

“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your words running together slightly. “I’m just trying not to think about it, at least not while we’re on this stupid work trip.”

All three of them nod like they understand, and then Tiffany leans in again. “Let me guess: there’s only one bed in the hotel room.”

“Please ignore her.” Matthew sounds as tired as you feel.

“Yes!” you exclaim, your anger from the night before temporarily reigniting. “The hotel fucked our room up, and the lady wouldn’t fix it because she was a fucking bitch—”

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

“And even though we only have one bed, he chose to take the couch. Like, that’s where we’re at.”

“That’s sweet,” Tiffany murmurs, and you make a face.

“Is it?”

“He’s being respectful. I bet he doesn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable, or like… pressured. ‘Cause sleeping with somebody is a world of difference from… sleeping with them, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “Or he wants to be as far away from me as possible, even while sleeping.”

“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame.

“Right?” Matthew chimes in. “Ain’t no way I’m getting good sleep on a hotel couch. Them things are like fuckin’ cement blocks.”

A yawn escapes you before you can manage to stifle it, and you press a hand to your mouth, suddenly overwhelmed from exhaustion as well as the conversation. You scoot your chair back from the table to stand and politely excuse yourself to the restroom.

“You gotta cool it with that shit, Tiff,” you hear Matthew mutter as you depart.

Your mind swims while you traverse the long back hallways of this bougie restaurant. It’s almost laughable now, but you really never thought to give Yoongi the benefit of the doubt for sleeping on the couch— not here, and not at his apartment.

You’re still so used to expecting the worst from him that you’ve just assumed the intention is laced into his every action. Even the nice things have felt like a cause for concern, like a reason to keep your guard up, small gestures meant to distract you so he can get the upper hand, somehow. It’s hard to shake the idea that he’s your enemy, even after everything that’s happened.

And yet you can’t help wondering if Tiffany is right. Is Yoongi really just being… respectful? And if so: what does he want? And how does he feel? You’re torn between wanting to know and hoping you never find out.

A voice saying your name drags you out of your thoughts. You turn back just shy of the restroom door, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out, and you bring a hand to your mouth to hide it. Your eyes widen as your brain works on a delay to process the familiar voice, then the sky-blue shirt and the dark framed glasses. It distantly occurs to you that Yoongi has you all alone in this fancy hallway.

You blink a few times, willing the weight of sleepiness out of your eyes, then finally respond with the first thing you can think of. “I’m not fucking you in the bathroom, Yoongi.”

He blinks right back at you, clearly not expecting that. “I… wasn’t asking you to.”

“What do you want then?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I—” he sighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he suddenly regrets coming after you. “You’re tired.”

“Yes, because I barely fucking slept. And?”

You tell yourself that you’re just imagining the way his voice has softened slightly. “Dinner’s over. We don’t have to stay. They’ll get it.”

“I’m having fun,” you retort. “I made friends.”

“I saw,” he remarks, not quite able to hide his smirk.

“So please, don’t cut your boring producer conversation short on my behalf,” you continue dryly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, to your surprise. “Yeah, it’s brutal. I’d much rather be sleeping.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or doing sake bombs.”

The question rushes out before you can second guess if it’s a good idea to ask. “How did you sleep? On the couch?”

Yoongi shrugs, then rubs a hand at the back of his neck, making a face as if you’ve put him on the spot. “Like shit.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the carpeted floor. “Well, I mean. Maybe it would make more sense if, uh—”

“’Scuse me—” a new voice causes your head to snap up again, and you take a step away from Yoongi as Tiffany slips between the two of you, moving quickly toward the women’s restroom.

“Sorry love, I have to break the seal!” she calls over her shoulder before the door slams shut.

The interruption is enough to make you swallow your suggestion, and Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“I’ll call a car, because I’m tired,” he murmurs defensively. “You’re welcome to get your own later, if you want to stay out—”

“I don’t,” you say firmly. “It’s fine. Just tell me when the car’s here.” Before Yoongi can so much as respond, you shoulder the bathroom door open and fast-walk to the safety of a stall.

After breaking your own seal, you make your way out to a sink, and you’re a little taken aback to find Tiffany still there waiting for you. She’s hovering over the mirror, blotting at her forehead with a paper towel.

“I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong,” she says softly as you turn on the tap. “Matthew says my mind-reading abilities can be intimidating to people who don’t know me well.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.”

“The highest honor there is,” she says with a knowing nod. When she turns to fully face you, shifting to rest her hip on the sink as you dry your hands, you have a feeling there’s more coming.

“So, can I be honest?”

“Go ahead,” you say, suddenly a little nervous.

“I know I just met both of you today, but— the way Suga was looking at you? Girl. He’s not taking the couch because he wants to.”

You smile politely at her reflection, and her eyes narrow. “I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t believe that he’s in love with me either, but we both have Leo Moons, so obviously we’re each waiting for the other person to cave first.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Which is fine for us, but all I’m saying is, if you want something, there’s really nothing wrong with asking for it.”

The urge to shut her down is strong. It’s slightly unnerving to feel like a relative stranger is peering into your soul. “You make it sound easy,” you murmur with a dry laugh. “I don’t think bed-sharing is part of our… arrangement.”

Tiffany preens a little more in the mirror, deftly flipping her curtain of dark hair over one shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be, but trust me on this one. He won’t say no. And if he does, I owe you a sake bomb.”

A genuine smile blooms across your face, and it only widens when she holds up her pinky finger. You lock yours around it for a single shake. “Deal.”

Arm-in-arm with Tiffany, you return to your corner of the table, where she entertains you by bullying Matthew into buying another round of drinks while he groans about burning a hole in his pocket.

“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m about to head out. So make it three instead of four.”

“Thank god,” Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. “This girl is so damn expensive.”

Tiffany pauses with a spoonful of matcha gelato— also ordered on Matthew’s dime— halfway to her mouth. “I literally have a Leo stellium, what the fuck do you expect?”

While they continue to bicker, your gaze floats down the table. You wonder if Tiffany’s mind-reading powers might be catching as your eyes land on Yoongi just in time for him to look up from his phone and meet your gaze. He nods his head once toward the entrance, and you nod back.

A shoulder bumps into yours, and you turn to see Tiffany subtly shoot you a thumbs-up. “Fighting!” she murmurs under her breath, and you laugh as you get to your feet and bid everyone goodnight.

Yoongi holds the door of the restaurant for you to exit first, then follows you into the large black car waiting for you on the curb.

The drive back to the hotel gives you just enough time to immediately talk yourself out of Tiffany’s suggestion. The thought of asking for what you want feels like a trap, like displaying weakness to the one person who could hit you hardest. Besides, what if she misread Yoongi entirely? She doesn’t know him at all, and has no idea of the way things are between you. It’s a terrible idea, you decide.

So you find yourself right where you were the night before, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from: face washed, teeth brushed, tossing and turning in a bed far too large for one person. You can feel your final thread of resistance snap clean in half as you angrily kick the blankets off, then get to your feet and storm into the living room.

Yoongi is still up, peering down at his phone screen on the couch, his glasses deposited atop the coffee table.

“You’re being stupid,” you huff, and he glances up, clearly not expecting the interruption.

“I am?”

“You’re going to the Grammys tomorrow,” you say, as if that will explain anything.

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

“Well yeah, but nobody’s going to give a shit about me.”

“I’d argue that’s also true for me,” he murmurs dryly, then squints at you. “Sorry, why am I stupid?”

“Because you’re going to sleep terribly on this couch.”

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

You sigh, because of course he’s going to drag this out of you. “And the bed is perfectly big enough for two people. We wouldn’t even be touching or anything. So…” Fuck, saying what you want is hard. “Can you just… stop being stupid?”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and you’re surprised when that trademark cocky smirk doesn’t spread across his face. If anything, he just seems hesitant as he slowly sits up. “You’re sure?”

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like this, standing in front of him in only your thin sleep clothes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up, so slight you could be imagining it. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

In the bedroom, you leave the lamp at the empty side of the bed switched on, then crawl back under the sheets on your side. Heat blooms in your face as you press your cheek to the cool pillowcase, purposefully facing out, then reach one arm up to turn off your own bedside lamp.

True to his word, a few minutes later you hear the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s steps across the carpet, then feel the shift of the mattress as he slips into bed on his side. He fumbles on the nightstand with what must be his glasses and his phone, and then you hear the click of the light, and the room disappears into darkness.

There’s a rustle and a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, and you were right: the two of you can easily share the bed without touching, plenty of space on the mattress between you.

Even so, having him closer is somehow… better. Comforting. You try not to dwell too much on it.

Flipping over onto your back, you stare up at the infinite black of the ceiling above you, your eyes already starting to weigh heavy. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you ask it.

“Are you nervous?”

When he answers, Yoongi sounds half-asleep, too. “About what?”

“The Grammys?”

“Oh.” There’s a stirring sound, and then he speaks, like he’s just remembered you can’t see him shrugging. “I don’t know. A little.”

The only reply you’re capable of is a soft hum, and now you really can’t keep your eyes open. You curl up on your side again, cheek smushing into the pillow, and your consciousness whirs up one last coherent thought before you fully slip under: What else would he be nervous about?

~*~

You wake up to the warm glow of morning beneath your eyelids, and when you blink them open, the room is lit soft, dappled in sunlight that has managed to sneak between the thick hotel curtains. It’s warm in this bed too, and comfortable, and you sigh quietly to yourself as you stir a little under the covers. With a stifled yawn, you move to turn onto your back, and it’s only when you meet a gentle resistance that you realize why you’re so warm.

Yoongi must just be waking up too, because you immediately feel his body start at the realization that he pulled you close at some point during the night: an arm thrown over your waist, his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Sorry.” As the mattress starts to shift behind you, you respond on pure physical instinct and close your hand around Yoongi’s wrist.

“Stay.” The word comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Yoongi’s response is a soft grunt, and a bolt of panic quickens your pulse. You’re suddenly worried he might not want to stay, that he might even laugh at you for thinking you could have it like this, wrapped in his arms and waking up slowly. The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?

But then his grip tightens to pull you that much closer, and he wordlessly presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart flutters in your chest, sweet and terrified. The heat of his breath over your skin makes you lean into him instinctively, and when your hips tilt, you can feel the unmistakable bulge of his clothed cock against your ass.

“God,” Yoongi groans. The deep gravel of his voice is enough to tighten your nipples beneath your tank top. “You make me so fucking hard. Dreamt about fucking you in this bed.”

“We woke up early,” you murmur. “So. There’s time.”

He grunts a low note in response. You can already feel the thin material of your sleep shorts growing wet between your legs as you slowly grind your hips back on him. 

Yoongi’s hand slips up your body, fingertips dragging over the fabric of your top until his palm is pressed to the column of your throat. You inhale softly, your head tipping up to allow him better access. His grip just barely tightens, and when he speaks in your ear, you can hear the smile around his words. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe. “In this bed.”

When you repeat his words back to him, Yoongi exhales a laugh, and then you feel him press a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Something melts open inside of you at the brush of his lips, a sudden rush of an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. Something you certainly never expected to feel with Min fucking Yoongi, of all people.

He releases his hold on your throat, and his hand makes short work of slipping the straps of your tank top off your shoulders, then yanking the loose fabric down to expose your tits. You shiver a little at the morning air against your bare skin.

Yoongi’s palm closes around one of your breasts, lazily massaging it, and you rut your ass back on him with a small whimper. The heat of his mouth trails more kisses up your neck, and then his deep voice is in your ear again.

“Did you sleep okay?” He pairs the question with his thumb dragging circles over the stiff bud of your nipple, earning another soft noise from you.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond. “Better than the first night.”

He hums against the shell of your ear, the timbre of his rough voice setting every last one of your nerve endings alight. Overcome with desire, you can barely focus on his words as his hand traces along your waist to slip down the back of your shorts.

“Me too. So much better than the fucking couch.”

Two of his fingers tease over your slit, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh at how wet he finds you, how turned on you already are. When he swipes between your folds to circle at your entrance, you can hear your own slickness, chased with a soft noise of appreciation that escapes Yoongi’s mouth as he plunges both digits into your pussy. You can’t help but moan, too.

He could easily make you come just like this, but you want him too much.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, twisting slightly to reach a hand behind you. You trace down the hard muscles of his stomach, apparent even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, until your palm drags along the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his boxer briefs. He’s so hard that he pulses under your touch, and you’re sure he must be able to feel the way your pussy flutters at the thought of this cock filling you up.

“Needy,” he purrs, his mouth against your neck.

“Shut up,” you answer automatically, not quite able to keep your voice steady with the way he’s fucking his fingers into you.

But Yoongi doesn’t torment you— you only have to give his clothed length one slow pump before his hands are pushing your shorts over your legs, like he can’t get them off fast enough. You kick them the rest of the way off while he works his boxers down, and then you arch back as his cock starts to tease your pussy lips apart.

He slips easily through your folds, painting you both in a mixture of pre-cum and arousal as he grinds himself over the whole of your slit. You bite back a moan when the head of his dick rubs up to your clit, smearing wetness there in steady strokes that make you gasp and writhe.

“Can I go raw again?” he asks so softly in your ear, and your cunt throbs as you whimper your consent.

It’s impossible to keep quiet now, not with how perfectly his cock pushes into you, stretching you open to take him. You press your face into the pillow to slightly muffle your sounds, and you can hear Yoongi groan behind you.

“Fuck,” he hisses roughly. “You’re ruining me. I may never be able to go back to condoms.”

“Yoongi,” you whine as he sheathes himself fully with a grunt of effort, giving you a few moments to adjust before he moves. “If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” your own voice breaks off mid-sentence as he drags his cock out just to fuck it back into you, and you have to take a breath before trying again. “I’m gonna come in five seconds.”

When he presses his mouth to your shoulder, you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Is that right?” The low rumble of his question buzzes through you, and your walls tighten around him in response. “You like it that much?”

You can barely remember how to form words with the way he’s started to thrust, the head of his cock sparking hot pleasure each time he rubs himself over the ridges of your front wall. “What if I do?”

Yoongi hums into the crook of your neck, purposefully drawing the sound out to make a shiver run up your spine, and you can’t help moaning. His hand slips between your thighs to nudge them apart, and you’re easily pliant for him, spreading yourself at his guidance so his fingers can find your clit.

“I’d tell you how fucking good you look like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “How well you take my cock.” You roll your hips in time with his strokes, and his free arm slips between your shoulder and the bed to wrap around your chest, giving him leverage to fuck you harder.

“Oh my god.” You nearly choke on your words as he pounds into you, unrelenting now, and your fingertips claw desperately at the pillow beneath your head.

“Pussy’s always so fucking tight, shit,” he groans. “Should’ve just done this the whole weekend. Don’t know how I even let you leave the room.”

Your feet flex helplessly against the bedsheets as Yoongi’s hand rubs a steadily building pressure into your core that threatens to overflow. His fingers move in tight circles over your clit like he knows your body well— which, you guess, he does. The thought of him keeping you here all weekend, tangled up in these sheets, fucking you senseless and making you come again and again and again is dizzying, enough to make your pussy start to pulse around his length.

“Yoongi,” you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, his voice stilted by how roughly he’s fucking into you. “Yeah, come on this cock. Make a mess for me.”

The pleasure is so overwhelming you almost want to squirm away from it, but then his fingers press your clit just right to snap a final thread and send you over the edge. Your thighs shake violently as your climax rips through you, and a rush of fluid squirts out of your cunt to coat the length of his dick and soak a wet spot into the sheets.

Yoongi groans unabashedly at the sight, still fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as if to hold off his own end while your pussy keeps shuddering around him.

You take your time coming all the way down, lost in how good it feels, and then you slump back against the pillow with a ragged sigh, your head swimming. “Holy shit.”

His throbbing-hard cock is still clenched inside your heat, and the bed shifts when he gently pulls out. Dazed, you turn over to watch him as he kneels up on the bed next to you, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress, and starts to slowly pump himself.

And fuck. He looks so good like this: long hair mussed from sex and sleep, with a half-awake look of concentration on his face, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth and the muscles of his arm flexing with every stroke. Watching him get himself off has only gotten hotter since you saw it the first time, and you didn’t think that was possible.

It feels like it takes all the effort you have left in your body, but you manage to sit up and turn to face him. In one assured move, you reach down to grab his wrist and pull his hand off his cock.

Yoongi whines a little at the realization of what you’re doing, and he leans back to give you full access as you settle yourself on all fours in front of him.

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

“Please?” you laugh, pausing to glance up at him. “Who taught you manners?”

“That fucking mouth did,” he growls, and it’s punctuated with a relieved moan as you drag your tongue up his shaft. One of his hands tangles in your hair while you lick the heady taste of yourself off his cock, then breathe deep through your nose so you can swallow him down.

Yoongi’s breath comes in ragged pants as you hollow your cheeks around him and start to bob your head, letting his tip rub against the back of your throat on every pass. You feel his fingers in your hair tighten, and his hips shove up to match your strokes, like he’s already close to coming undone.

This thick cock weighs heavy and familiar on your tongue, warm like the rays of morning sun that have reached far enough into the room to wash over the bedsheets now. Drool spills out from the seal of your lips around Yoongi’s shaft, and the sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, pornographic as it floats up to the ceiling.

“God,” Yoongi gasps. “Gonna come down your pretty fucking throat.”

And it’s funny— once, this would have made you feel powerful, in control, like the person with the upper hand. The winner. But in this moment, it occurs to you that you don’t really give a shit about winning anymore. Now his words just make you hum and suppress a smile around his cock in your mouth. When you notice the way his thighs tremble in response, you keep going, vibrating his length while you sink as far down as you can take it.

The hand in your hair releases, and then his palm just barely brushes over the bulge of his cock in your throat as if in admiration. Eyes rolling back, you let your jaw slacken and swallow hard on the stretch of him there.

“Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then he’s coming, and the throb of him in your mouth still feels like a reward. You pull back a little to keep from gagging as he paints fat ropes of cum into the tight clutch of your throat. Sucking firmly around him through spasm after spasm, you swallow it all down greedily until you feel him going soft on your tongue. 

You finally pull off with a wet pop, dazed and laughing as you roll over and collapse into a heap against the mattress, thoroughly spent.

“Okay,” Yoongi manages to say on an exhale, though you can hear he’s still short of breath, too. You glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair, looking fucked out of his mind. “I’m ready to go win a Grammy now.”

There’s just enough time for each of you to shower and get dressed before a whole team of people arrive for Yoongi: stylists, hair and makeup, and most importantly, coffee delivery. Yoongi blinks wide-eyed at you as you press the largest iced Americano you could find in downtown Los Angeles into his hands, and then you step back to let everyone get to work.

Meanwhile, you spend the next few hours in a rush of attempting to get yourself ready, all while double-checking the schedule, answering emails on the fly from your phone, and trying desperately to ignore the anxiety that’s started to hum in the pit of your stomach.

Once your hair and makeup are as decent as you can get them, you slip the black dress you packed for tonight— a rental, because buying a black tie dress was absolutely out of your price range— off the hanger and step carefully into it. Watching yourself in the mirror, you reach behind you for the zipper only to realize you can’t quite manage to pull it up past the small of your back.

Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that Jimin helped you zip this thing up when you tried it on initially, during a night at your place where you split two bottles of wine and he performed his own personal critique of all your dress rental options. This was the only one he’d liked.

With a nervous sigh, you head for the bathroom door, figuring that you’ll be able to subtly grab the attention of one of Yoongi’s many stylists to help.

But when you slowly slide the door open, one hand pressing the fabric of your dress in place over your chest, you realize the room has fallen quiet. As you lean across the threshold, you see why: everyone is gone.

Except for Yoongi, who glances up from where he’s sunk into the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

“Where is everyone?” you snap, probably a little harsher than you need to be.

He frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. “They… left? Because they were done? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big awards show tonight. Means the stylists are pretty booked today.”

Yoongi gets to his feet to cross the room, and you fumble awkwardly, trying to keep your dress up. He’s fully put together now in a well-fitted suit and tie, and with his long hair styled and subtle makeup applied to enhance his features, he looks… good. Too good. Deadly. You can’t quite manage to maintain eye contact, and find yourself staring dumbly at the floor instead.

His voice softens slightly as he steps in close to you. “What’s wrong? Does it not fit?”

“It fucking better,” you mutter. “I just… can’t reach the zipper.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

Your gaze flits up to meet his, and you’re a little surprised by his question. “There’s nobody else here,” you retort, stubborn.

When he blinks evenly back at you, like he’s waiting for something, you realize he’s not going to make this easy. Fucking hell. Another tense moment passes, and he just blinks again.

“Yes,” you finally give in with a frustrated sigh. “Will you please help me, Yoongi?”

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you do.

His hand slides over the small of your back, and then he slowly starts to ease the zipper up. You don’t dare move a muscle until he’s done, and it’s only once he buttons the closure at the top that you breathe a serious sigh of relief. The dress fits like a glove.

You attempt to compose yourself enough to thank him, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

His low voice resonates in the quiet of the room as he leans in. “Was that so hard?”

You turn your head as if to argue, but then there’s a split second where you feel his lips brush over your neck, just below your ear. So slight it could’ve been an accident.

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out, and then you slip away from him to get your heels from the bedroom and try to remember how to breathe. You do your best to ignore the fact that your hands are shaking as you pull your shoes on, then pause in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, giving yourself a final once-over.

As you smooth your hands down the black velvet fabric and turn to the side, you glance up to find Yoongi hovering in the threshold, watching you.

“That dress,” he remarks, sounding a little dazed. You have to fight to keep the smile off your face when he trails off, unable to say more— you didn’t think it was possible to make Min Yoongi speechless. It’s not a bad feeling.

And you do like this dress, even though you could never actually afford it. It’s simple but elegant, a sleeveless column style with a plunging neckline and a slit that reaches your mid-thigh. Nothing groundbreaking, but it sticks to your curves like water and makes you feel somewhat more like a person who belongs at a fancy awards show.

“Jimin picked it,” you respond, and you hear Yoongi exhale a laugh.

“He has good taste.”

You turn toward him as your hidden smile pulls into a smirk. “Well, I’m not dressed up for you,” you chide, and you revel in the way his face drops briefly in surprise before he’s able to conceal it. “I’m trying to meet Kendrick.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re thankful that you purposefully padded your schedule with extra time, because you lose nearly every last minute of it stuck in the gridlock of Los Angeles traffic on the night of a huge event.

By the time you make it to the venue, you’re practically nauseous from all the stopping and starting and crawling of the car, and Yoongi looks equally bad, though you suspect his condition might be more anxiety-related.

As it turns out, the Grammys are a lot less glamorous when you’re only mildly famous, at least by American standards. The two of you are shepherded by security to another ‘lane’ of the red carpet and warned not to stop as you make your way into the building. You observe from afar while A-list celebrities pass in a blur, flashbulbs pop bright enough to blind you, and chatter is drowned out by the sound of fans screaming and the clamor of reporters trying to grab the biggest names for an interview.

“I’m so glad I’m not that fucking famous,” Yoongi scoffs, though he doesn’t quite manage to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Come on,” you murmur once you get inside, nodding toward a pop-up bar in a far corner of the lobby. “Take the edge off. And I’m gonna need alcohol if I have to sit through a fucking three-hour show.”

You down your drinks quickly, only a few minutes shy of the time by which you have to be in your seats, and you return from tossing the empties in the trash to see Yoongi eyeing a piano pushed against the far wall, clearly for show. He takes a seat, glancing around as if in fear of getting yelled at, then gently pushes up the key lid.

“Ooh, do Wine!” you tease with a laugh as you drop onto the bench beside him, but he actually does start to play, one foot pressing down on a pedal to keep the sound soft. His fingers alight over the keys, and the song he plucks out is beautiful. It’s a melody that almost feels nostalgic to you, even though you know you’ve never heard it before.

“What is this?” you ask, and he keeps playing as he responds.

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Remind me how you work in the music industry?”

A smile plays at your lips, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. You know I’m a fraud.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a note when he glances up to meet your gaze. “Are you?”

It’s only now that you realize how close he is: the two of you are basically sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, you forget about the Grammys, forget that anyone else is even in the room.

“Excuse me!” A voice snaps you out of the moment, and you scoot away from Yoongi so quickly you nearly topple off the bench. “That’s not meant to be played, and we need everyone to head to their seats, please!” Your face flushes with an embarrassed heat, and Yoongi lifts a hand apologetically as he covers the keys back up.

You stick close to his side so as not to lose him in the large crowd of people. “Bet they’ll let you play whatever piano you want once you have one of those dumb little trophies,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi really laughs, like he wasn’t expecting the comment.

Another thing you didn’t necessarily anticipate: the Grammys are fucking long. You knew it would be over three hours, but you realize you severely underestimated how long that time would feel. While the performances are incredible (and you have to dig your nails into the cushion of your seat to keep from squealing when you spot Lil Nas X a few rows in front of you), there’s plenty of filler between them, and it feels a lot drier when you’re physically in the room for it. Even the commercial breaks are far too short for you to have enough time to actually run to the restroom or get another drink.

You’re also starving. “I hate that they don’t serve food at these things,” you hiss to Yoongi during a break, but it’s late enough in the night now that he’s barely speaking, apart from the occasional monotone grunt. 

Though you’ve been waiting for it all evening, you still don’t quite know if you’re ready when the host starts to run down the list of nominees for Song of the Year.

As he’s only credited as a writer, they don’t actually say Yoongi’s pseudonym, but pride still squeezes tight in your chest when you see “Suga” spelled out across the on-stage monitors beneath the name of the song.

They get through all the titles in what seems like less than a second, and your heart feels like it might give out as an anticipatory silence settles over the crowd. The host fumbles with getting the envelope open, and you’re so tense, you flinch hard at an unexpected brush of contact.

You glance down, and it takes a moment for your brain to process what’s happened. He’s not looking at you, hasn’t said anything, but Yoongi has nevertheless reached over to grab your hand. His long fingers lace through yours, gripping surprisingly tight, and the skin of his palm is warm and dry. It’s like your brain short-circuits for a moment as you stare stupidly at your joined hands, and he gives yours a single nervous squeeze.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

You look over at him, still dumbfounded, and then you hear them call a song that isn’t his.

Your heart sinks as you watch Yoongi blink up at the screen, his mouth pulled into a flat line. You realize belatedly you’re supposed to be clapping, but his hand is still clasped in yours. And you don’t want to pull away from him.

But then he moves first, untwining his hand from yours and bringing it up to rake through his hair with a disbelieving laugh. A little delayed, you both join in the applause as the winner makes their way to the stage. You can’t even process who it is.

You have no idea what to say to console him, so you don’t say anything at all.

Thankfully the category is one of the last of the night, so you only have to sit through a few more rounds of acceptance speeches and watching other people’s dreams come true before you can finally get to your feet. You feel like you can’t leave fast enough as you’re herded out of the stadium and into another car to depart for the afterparty.

There’s a heavy silence in the backseat that feels like a chasm between you as you crawl through Los Angeles traffic.

You realize there’s a bottle of champagne tucked into an ice bucket behind the front seat— a thoughtful touch from the label execs, you assume. Yoongi spots it at the same time you do, and he immediately reaches for it. With a grunt of effort, he pops the cork, a little bit of excess foam dribbling onto the floor of the car.

He raises his eyebrows at you, then brings the bottle right to his mouth for a long drink. Longer than long. You watch his adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows several times.

“Alright, chill the fuck out,” you snap after a few seconds, reaching over to grab it from him. “At least eat something first.”

“It’s my consolation prize,” Yoongi quips, but he lets you wrest the champagne from his hands without resisting. You take a thorough swig yourself, then recork the bottle and drop it back in the bucket. “Such a good little admin,” he purrs, and you try to convince yourself there isn’t a hint of venom in his words.

The car pulls to a stop at the designated hotel, and you climb out after Yoongi. Upon making it inside, the two of you peel off in different directions: him for the bar, and you to find anything that remotely resembles food. You keep glancing over at him from across the room as it fills with more and more people, nervous to take your eyes off him for too long, unsure of what he might do. Every time you find him again, it seems like he’s downing another glass of whiskey, drinking like the fucking world is ending.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling to find anything that isn’t kale, quinoa, or… whatever grain-free bread is. With a frustrated sigh, you finally decide to give up. If Yoongi wants to drink on an empty stomach until he gets alcohol poisoning, you figure that’s his fucking problem.

When you shove your way through the crowd back toward him, you find that he’s been pulled into a conversation with a bunch of older men you can only assume to be local industry reps. As you get close enough to make out their words, you quickly understand why he has such a sour look on his face.

“Song of the Year, huh? You know we can cross-reference the nominees and figure out if you’re full of shit, right?”

Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you have no problem cutting in. “You’re actually speaking to an incredibly accomplished producer and songwriter,” you retort without thinking. “He has over 100 KOMCA credits.” You don’t miss the smirk Yoongi tries to conceal behind the rim of his glass.

“KOMCA?” Another one of them speaks up, the question paired with a harsh laugh. “Never heard of it. That anything like payola?”

“Wild that anyone can just buy their way into the industry these days.” The first man shakes his head, eyes scanning Yoongi up and down as if the tailoring of his suit tells him everything he needs to know. “Guess that’s the way the world works now. Never had to struggle a day in your life, huh?”

Your response is immediate and far too loud. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A loud laugh ripples through all of the men, clearly more excited about evoking a reaction than the gravity of their claims. “Wow, man,” the one who spoke first chortles, clapping Yoongi hard on the shoulder. “Looks like you need to control your girl.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch Yoongi shrug off the guy’s hand to set his empty glass down on the closest table. He moves slowly, deliberately taking a long pause before correcting them. “This is actually my assistant.” His voice is laced with a deadly calm you know well.

“Assistant?” A third pipes up, acting as if he’s never heard the word before. “Huh. You know, back in my day we just called them secretaries. Or mistresses.”

Yoongi moves so fast you barely have time to process it, lunging forward and shoving the guy in the chest with enough force that he stumbles backwards into his shitty friends. “What the fuck!” one of them shouts, purposefully loud, and you can hear a ripple of shock roll through the crowd, can see heads turning to look your way in alarm.

“No, no, nope,” you immediately mutter. “This is not fucking happening.”

Yoongi is already taking another step toward the group, and you tighten a hand hard around his bicep. “We’re leaving.”

When he whips around to face you, the mixture of anger and pain reflected in his dark eyes is so overwhelming, it hits you like a truck. You try to force yourself to stay calm, because at least one of you has to be.

“Come on, Yoongi,” you say, letting your voice soften. “Fuck this place. I need some real food.” Your eyes search his, pleading. For a moment, you can’t help but wonder if you’re staring down an enemy or a friend.

But then you see the fight go out of him as he nods, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Shifting the hand on his arm to press firmly to the center of his back, you guide him in front of you and wind through the packed room of people until you make your way outside again.

Fate does you one good turn by leaving an empty cab out front, and you push Yoongi into the backseat, then slide in next to him. You lean forward to greet the driver, doing your best to smile politely and act composed, like you didn’t just almost get into a fight at the Grammys afterparty.

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

The cab drops you off outside a strip of bars and restaurants, lit up with neon signs in both English and Korean. To his credit, Yoongi seems more subdued as he follows you out of the car wordlessly, but you allow him a little more time to cool off in silence. You wander somewhat aimlessly, attempting to shake off your lingering anxiety in the warm evening air, until you stumble upon a food truck parked at the end of the block. Your eyes go wide at the posted signage.

“What do you think?” you ask as you turn to Yoongi, and he shrugs, like he really doesn’t care. Perfect. You’ve never had a problem a gamja hot dog couldn’t fix.

Securing one for each of you, you nod Yoongi toward a small group of tables set up at the curb to sit down. Once seated, you immediately drown your hot dog in ketchup and mustard, and you can hear him scoff before taking the bottles from you to do the same. Admittedly, you must look fairly ridiculous eating fried street food in full black tie, but you’re far too hungry to give a fuck right now.

It’s perfection from the first bite, crispy and hot, the batter studded with potato pieces and the inside loaded with cheese.

You’re also too hungry to bother making conversation at first, but after a few more bites you glance over at Yoongi, and your heart sinks all over again. You really do feel bad, and then the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur with your mouth full. “That you didn’t win.”

He makes a face as he chews. “We already agreed I wouldn’t have been happy even if I won, right? So it doesn’t really matter.”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Yoongi just shrugs, but he can’t quite meet your gaze. “It’s whatever.” You take another bite as he continues. “If I’m gonna win a Grammy, I want it to be for something that’s all mine anyway.”

The sentence surprises you, and you blink back at him. “You’re going to release your own stuff?”

As if he instantly regrets bringing it up, his face reddens a little, his expression twisting into an unsure grimace. “Ahh… I don’t know, probably not. People know me as a producer. I don’t know that anyone would actually listen to it.”

“I would,” you say without even really thinking, and his eyes widen. “You know,” you continue quickly, adopting a fake-serious tone. “Since I work in the music industry. Strictly business.”

A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and you find yourself relieved to see it. “I appreciate that.”

You’re also desperately curious, wondering if he’ll say more about his own music, but he goes quiet again. Given the night he’s had, you don’t exactly want to push it.

Taking the final bite of your hot dog and mourning the loss, you stack your skewer and paper tray on top of Yoongi’s, then get to your feet to toss them in the nearest trash can. When you return to the table, you smack your palms decisively against it.

“Come on. I think the circumstances call for some binge drinking.”

Your first stop is tucked into two seats at a neighboring dive bar, alive and roaring with enough ambient conversation that you have to speak fairly loudly to be heard over the noise. The bar in the center of the room is wrapped around a small open kitchen, where you watch the line cooks hustle to steam, grill, and fry what seems like a never-ending rush of food orders.

You and Yoongi stick to soju, pouring each other shot after shot. On the first one, he tilts his full glass toward you, and you knock yours against it.

“To losing,” he toasts, and you can’t help laughing as you tip your head back to drink. He’s smirking as he swallows his down, then pours you another. “Hey, maybe Jungkook will throw me a commiseration party when we get back.”

You grimace automatically at the name as you take the bottle from him to fill his glass up, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Trouble in paradise?”

With a roll of your eyes, you determine that you need to be drunker for this. You take your shot, then instantly hold your glass out for Yoongi to pour another before he even gets to his. He obliges, and you throw it back immediately. The bottom of your glass hits the bar with a loud thud.

“I kinda… freaked out on him. Right before we left.”

Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts, questioning, as he drinks. “Any reason?” he prompts when he’s finished.

“Yes,” you answer stubbornly, tapping at the rim of your empty glass. He fills you up again, and you return the favor to finish the bottle. Yoongi motions to the bartender for another as you down your shot and steel yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers.

“Don’t you want to hear that you were right?”

He shrugs like he can’t argue. “I mean, always.”

“Well for one, he asked if anything was going on between you and me.” You glance over to see Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as he drinks. “I said no.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then he was like, ‘Good, I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.’”

Yoongi is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s a losing battle. You can see the way his shoulders are starting to shake, and then he finally caves in, his palm smacking flat against the bar as he really laughs. “Wow,” he eventually recovers enough to huff, and you reach for the fresh soju bottle that’s been dropped off. “He really just said it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you intone, filling his glass and then handing the bottle back. Yoongi’s still chuckling a little as he pours your drink before taking his own, and you continue. “And then, I don’t know, there was some other stuff, and I was just like… oh fuck.”

“Because you realized he’s in love with you.”

You sigh dejectedly into your soju. “I’m so stupid.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your glass once you’ve emptied it again. “You wanted to avoid an inconvenient truth. Just makes you human.”

There’s a pause as you take the bottle to pour his drink, and then his next words nearly make you choke as you throw back yours. “You should date Jungkook.”

You’re sure you must look entirely dumbfounded as you stare at him. “What?”

“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak as you regard him. You finally shake your head, nudging your empty glass toward him until he gets the memo. “Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter under your breath, and you’re not sure if he hears it over the din of the bar.

“Besides,” you continue as you snatch the soju out of his hands to pour his drink, “I’ve tried dating a coworker before. It’s a bad idea.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“It’s not, really,” you murmur, staring down at the liquid in your glass. “My last job I was a waitress.”

“Mm,” Yoongi interrupts with a hum as he takes his shot. “Waitress. I was close.”

You pour him another, mostly to keep him quiet. “Yeah yeah, you’re very fucking perceptive. Anyway, I dated another server for a couple years. He ended up cheating on me with one of the hostesses, but I was honestly kinda tired of him, so I was glad to end it.” You hear Yoongi snort a little at your fairly heartless admission. “But then I walked in on them fucking in the walk-in, and it put me in a bad mood. Long story short, I ended up throwing a drink on a customer and they had to let me go.”

“Christ,” he laughs, pausing for a moment to fully take in your words. “And now you’re a pain in my ass.”

You roll your eyes as you motion for another soju bottle. “Correct.”

“Sounds like your ex was an idiot.” You glance over to find Yoongi already looking at you. “I mean, in the walk-in is just… nasty.”

“That’s what I said!” Your mouth pulls up at the corners as you try to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think we can really judge anybody though.”

Yoongi blinks, staring blankly into the middle distance. “That conference room trash can condom still haunts me.”

With a loud laugh, you bury your face in your hands, and you can feel your cheeks burning from alcohol and embarrassment. You peer between your fingers as Yoongi sets down a fresh shot for you, and you gladly take it.

“People are stupid,” he remarks wisely. “That’s why I don’t date.” You quirk an eyebrow as he passes you the bottle.

“What, a prize like you?” you deadpan. “You just fuck people in bar bathrooms like a well-adjusted human?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug. “So. Wanna check this one out?”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, and you immediately smack him on the arm. He nearly spills his drink from laughter, and you can’t keep yourself from laughing a little, too. “I already gave it to you this morning, you freak.”

“Come on,” Yoongi’s voice is teasing, and he bumps his shoulder against yours when he leans in closer. “I had a hard night.”

Pouring him another drink is your only distraction, and you do it with the utmost focus. “This dress is a rental.”

“I can pay for it.” The heat of his breath ghosts over your collarbone as he answers. You shove the bottle hard into his chest, and he takes the cue to fill your glass again, still smirking as he pulls away.

“First,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel, especially with the way your pulse has started to quicken. Your expression is deadly serious as you turn to stare into Yoongi’s eyes and he stares right back. “You have to prove that you can keep up.”

When you swallow your shot easily to punctuate the dare, a look flashes over Yoongi’s face like he’s impressed, and then he follows your lead.

After a few more bottles, the bar is so crowded and so loud that you can hardly hear yourselves think, and you stumble out of it and into the next place you see, and then the next, and then the next. All bets are off tonight, and you’re not about to tell Yoongi that he can’t get fucking trashed considering he just lost at the fucking Grammys. You figure you’ll be able to sleep off your hangovers on the stupidly long flight home tomorrow.

With each stop, Yoongi’s mood seems to improve a little. He eventually drinks enough that his suit jacket and tie come off, and they end up draped over your shoulders, despite your loud protests that you don’t need any more responsibilities. With the sleeves of his white button-down pushed up, it gets increasingly hard to divert your attention away from his hands and the muscles in his forearms, especially as you get progressively drunker and drunker.

Yoongi’s palm brushes over the small of your back as you make your way out of the last place, his touch warm even through the velvet of your dress.

“I know it was your personal nightmare,” he murmurs, words slurring together slightly, “but I really am glad you came on this trip. I mean it,” he insists when you shoot him a look. “I would be fucking insufferable if I was alone tonight. And I definitely would’ve punched that label guy in the face.”

You exhale a laugh and nearly fall over in your heels, and Yoongi’s hand slips to your waist to keep you upright. “He deserved it.” You lean into him, not entirely for balance, and you can feel it when he shrugs.

“Sorry you didn’t get to meet Kendrick.”

The glow of the various open-late establishments and the glitter of the pavement under your feet are all beautiful, especially in your current state, and the night air is still and warm. As you approach the next building and are met with the dull thud of music, your eyes go wide.

“Oh, I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”

The noraebang is surprisingly busy given that it’s a Sunday night, but you’re still able to book a room, and you giggle your thanks as Yoongi opens his wallet to pay the hourly rate like it’s nothing. The two of you work your way through more bottles of beer and soju, and when you start up the karaoke and teasingly pick the HEIZE song he produced, you’re surprised that he actually joins you.

Yoongi must be able to read the expression on your face, because he smirks mid-song. “Let the record show that I am actually a very fun drunk.”

And he is. You sing dramatically and loudly, not caring if you hit the notes, jumping and dancing and occasionally dropping passionately to your knees before dissolving into laughter. At first you monopolize the controller, but after you force a third Kendrick song on him Yoongi gestures for it, and you begrudgingly hand it over.

Crossing the room, you kneel down to dig through the provided box of props, immediately spotting and slipping on a cat-eared headband. You glance up at the screen, eyes widening as you realize he’s searching through Epik High songs. “Do Love Love Love!”

When you look back at him, Yoongi is squinting at you, laughing a little at your new set of ears. “What the fuck do you know about Epik High?”

“What do you mean what the fuck do I know?” you snap back. “I love them! I should be asking you that question, Mr. ‘I don’t listen to music’!”

His mouth pulls into a grin, his tongue toying at the inside of his cheek. “I have a few exceptions, alright?”

Still knelt down, you flop sideways onto the floor when he selects Born Hater. “Ugh, I’m too drunk to say that many words.”

“I got this,” Yoongi reassures you, flipping his microphone coolly with one hand as he gets to his feet. You can’t help giggling dumbly from your spot on the ground as you drunkenly prop your feet on the booth and reach up to pull your high heels off.

If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it’s that Yoongi has a really good voice, even raw and live and drunk as hell. You don’t know why it surprises you, but it does. To you, performing seems like a different world from writing and producing tracks, but he does it just as effortlessly, with no trace of the anxiety you’ve seen grip him in a crowded room. The passion in the way he growls and gasps out lyrics, even just in the way he moves, it’s all undeniable and exhilarating to watch. He raps like he has nothing left to lose, mouth pulled into a snarl, occasionally reaching up to push his sweaty hair back off his forehead.

You can only gaze up at him, awestruck, wondering how many different versions of Min Yoongi you have left to discover until you hit the bottom.

The two of you trade the controller back and forth until every bottle on the table is empty, until the words blur on the screen, until Yoongi flops over to lay down in the booth with his head hanging off the edge, clearly exhausted. “No more,” he groans. “I’m so tired. And so drunk.”

Hovering above him, you pry the controller from his grip with a smile, slipping the cat ears onto his head for an even exchange. And then you get an idea.

“Last song!” you assure him as you type, and he groans even louder when Cat & Dog starts to play.

“God, this song is terrible,” Yoongi complains, but you’re singing too loud to care about his critiques.

With a severe amount of effort, he pulls himself to a sitting position, and you kneel down in front of him, miming cat paws with your hands and wiggling your hips. “I didn’t know you were into petplay,” he deadpans, and you stick your tongue out, determined not to let him ruin your fun.

You get to your feet and turn toward the screen as the second chorus finishes, yelling over your shoulder, “This is my favorite part!”

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

When Yoongi’s voice suddenly reverberates from the other microphone, you almost drop yours. You whip around in complete disbelief. He’s on his feet and moving towards you as he continues the rap verse, the inarguable best part, with a renewed cocky energy. And you have to admit, he’s putting Yeonjun to shame.

“What the fuck!” you practically scream, but he just keeps going.

Seized by full-body drunk laughter, you stumble forward and nearly fall over, knocking into his chest. Though Yoongi’s reflexes are a little delayed, he still manages to right you without missing a word, one arm hooking around your waist. You swallow hard as you suddenly find yourself intimately close to the broad sweep of his collarbone, exposed between the top buttons of his shirt that came undone at some point during your debaucherous evening.

Fumbling for your microphone, you make it back to reality in time for the final chorus, only to fall entirely to pieces when Yoongi starts barking at full volume to match the outro. You can’t take it, and he’s not fast enough to keep you upright, so you drop straight down to the floor on hands and knees, laughing so hard it feels like your lungs might give out.

The microphone rolls dejectedly out of your grasp as you flop over onto your back, and you scrub your hands down your face, trying desperately to catch your breath as the song fades out.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” you mumble into your palms. You uncover your face to look up at Yoongi, only to find him laughing down at you, still wearing the fucking cat headband. “I thought you hated that song.”

He rolls his eyes despite his smile. “Yeah, well, it was also stuck in my head for like a week after you played it that one night.”

You sit up with a dramatic glare. “Oh, you mean the night you stole my fucking keys?”

A proud smirk flickers over his mouth. “You know, I am sorry about that. Or at least sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face when you realized.” He tosses his microphone onto the booth bench next to his abandoned suit jacket, then reaches down with both hands to pull you to your feet. It belatedly occurs to you that you might’ve left his tie at the last bar, but you’re too drunk to give it another thought.

“I hate you so much,” you say, though you can’t quite keep your expression serious. “Fuck, I should’ve taken a video. Could’ve used it for blackmail.”

Yoongi’s voice is lower when he speaks again, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close to you he is, the fact that his hands are still closed over yours. “Guess you’re the only one who’ll ever know.”

“Mmm,” you hum, swaying a little where you stand. His palms slip to your waist to keep you steady as you blink up at him, and your hands flatten against his chest, your fingertips tracing over the buttons of his shirt. “You look good in cat ears.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi murmurs, and then his mouth is on yours.

Your hands reach up to tangle in his long dark hair, knocking the headband to the floor, and with the amount of alcohol currently coursing through your system, you don’t have a single inhibition left in you. You kiss Yoongi like you can’t fucking breathe without him.

He pulls you as close as he can, until your bodies are flush all the way down, and you don’t ever want it to be any other way. You want it just like this, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip until his tongue licks your mouth open and you groan into him. Just like this: his palms moving down to grab your ass unapologetically, your grip on his hair tightening, even your teeth knocking together with how drunk and desperate you are for each other. Just like this: two stupid, wildly flawed humans in black tie attire, making out in a Ktown noraebang at two in the morning on a Monday.

The sound of the door opening might as well be a gunshot for how loud it feels, and you just barely manage to jump apart as an employee pokes their head in.

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

You don’t realize you’re not breathing until you hear the door click shut again, and your gasp for air quickly turns into an overwhelmed, embarrassed laugh. Yoongi groans drunkenly, running a hand through his hair, then sighs out a long exhale, like he’s trying to calm down.

“Come on,” you giggle, still close enough to tug playfully at one of his belt loops. “Let’s get out of here.”

Thankfully a cab is still easy to flag down even this late. The two of you manage to pour yourselves into the backseat and give the driver the name of the hotel. It’s not a terribly long drive, and you watch wide-eyed out the window as the sprawl of Los Angeles rushes by, painted in neon glow and the amber wash of streetlights.

Yoongi slumps against you, and he goes quiet for so long you think he might be asleep. When he finally shifts again, he presses his face into your shoulder with a noise of discomfort, and you’re suddenly worried he might be silent for a very different reason.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low. “Don’t puke in the cab.”

“Stupid,” he responds, and you figure he must not be doing that bad if he can still talk.

You run your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, admiring the texture, the way it’s nearly long enough now to graze his shoulders. “What’s stupid?”

“I’m—” he tries, but the car dips over a pothole, and he’s talking so quietly you lose the rest.

“You’re what?”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the click of the turn signal.

“In love with you.”

His words stun you where you sit, and you have no idea what to do, say, think. You just keep twining your fingers through his hair, like you’re stuck on auto-pilot, distantly aware that every alarm bell in your inebriated brain is going off. It feels like way too much to try and process any of it right now. It feels like a trap.

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” you finally answer. Yoongi just stays slumped against you, and he doesn’t say another word.

The cab drops you off at the hotel, and it’s quiet between the two of you as you get him up to the room. You feel like you’re watching yourself from a distance, and it’s like your brain isn’t processing any of this as really happening, as if to keep you from thinking too hard about the big picture. From what it all could mean.

In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth.

“Contacts,” you remind him through a mouthful of toothpaste when he spits out the last of his, and he nods sleepily.

“You don’t have to… administrate me all the time,” Yoongi slurs as he carefully slips one lens and then the other out of his eyes.

You spit out your own toothpaste, then sigh as you rinse the sink clean. “Well, you’re very drunk, and it’s my fault.”

“It was fun,” he says quietly, fumbling the case closed.

“It was,” you echo. “Really.” 

The bathroom door is half-open on its sliding track, and you glance up in the mirror to see Yoongi hovering in the threshold, looking back at you as you wipe away stray traces of mascara from under your eyes. You think he’s going to leave, but then he steps in behind you again, and you feel his hand slide up the small of your back to ease the zipper of your dress open.

Something in your heart twists as you stare down at the marble counter, and you can already tell this isn’t meant to be flirtatious. That thought is confirmed when you finally look up, only to find yourself left entirely alone.

With a small sigh, you slide the bathroom door shut, then flip the switch to turn on the fan. The white noise still doesn’t feel like enough, so you run the shower as well, then grab a plastic water bottle from the counter to chug. You retreat into the far corner with your phone, scrolling until you find the name of the only person who can possibly help you right now.

“Hey babe,” Jimin answers on the third ring. “I’m at rehearsal so I really can’t chat. You good?”

“Yoongi said he loves me,” you answer immediately, and the reality of it hits you impossibly hard as soon as you say it out loud.

“Uh-oh.”

“But,” you lean back until your head knocks against the wall. “He’s drunk as shit. I— we are drunk as shit.”

There’s a pause, and you swear you hear Jimin laugh a little under his breath. “He really said it, huh?”

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

You grimace at the flippant response from your supposed best friend. “What do you mean and?! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

“Have you realized you’re in love with him yet? ‘Cause if I have to hear you babble on about this man for another week without piecing it together, I really might lose it.”

His words actually make your stomach churn. “Jimin!”

“I—” he sounds like he’s preparing to explain himself, but then he pauses, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Fuck, I’m getting yelled at. I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.”

You want to scream at him to stay, to help, that he can’t just unravel you like this and then leave you to figure it out for yourself. “Mochi, I’m on the fucking plane tomorrow—”

“I’ll come over when you get home!” Jimin interrupts. “And then you can tell me the entire story of you two finally figuring out how to be normal humans with feelings.” You scoff at his biting remark, but he’s already talking over you. “You’re smart, you got this, I love you!”

You hear him blow a dramatic kiss into the speaker, and then the line goes dead.

The world spins around you as you stare helplessly at the silent black screen of your phone, and you can’t shove it all down anymore. It’s overwhelming, all of the things that you’re feeling in this moment, so much so that you can’t even identify what you feel. It’s just a giant, tangled mess, in your brain and in your heart. The tears spill out like you’ve been holding them in for weeks, hard and fast, until you can scarcely catch your breath. You scrub at the first few that roll down your cheeks, but they continue relentlessly, and you eventually give up and just let it all pour out.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying on the bathroom floor. You can’t even really explain why you’re crying, except that everything inside of you feels like too much to handle.

There’s a dull ache in your head by the time you finally manage to cry yourself dry, and then you peel yourself off the floor to slip out of your dress and shut off the shower. You pull on the tank top and sleep shorts you’d grabbed earlier from the bedroom, trying to avoid your swollen face in the mirror as you turn the lights out and shut the door behind you.

Yoongi has left the lamp on your bedside on, and you immediately flip it off to plunge the room into darkness, not wanting him to see you like this. He stirs slightly when you slip under the covers, and you can feel the mattress shift as he turns over.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arm slides over your stomach to pull your body flush to his, and his lips brush at the join of your neck and shoulder. As confusing as it should be, there’s something about the weight of him pressed into you that relaxes you, even through your current haze of emotion. You allow yourself to sink back against him, to breathe deeper, though your inhales are still a little shaky.

Yoongi’s rough voice in your ear pulls you up from the edge of sleep. “Did I fuck everything up?”

You sniff softly, and your own reply is barely more than a whisper. “No, Yoongi, it’s okay. Let’s just sleep."

As you hear him settle in beside you again, you make a promise that you’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. You’ll figure out how you really feel, and how he does, and what you want, and what the hell you’re supposed to do about it all. But tonight, you just want this: to lay here with Yoongi and pretend your entire world isn’t about to change when you wake up.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

A/N: oh hiiiiii, super secret bonus author's note down here!!! just wanted to share that, now that we're officially through the grammys, that means we are down to just two more chapters left in the series!!! i held off confirming the full length of LDOMLT until we got to this point (and honestly i could've easily split this into two chapters but i am NICE and i did not give you the WORST CLIFFHANGER OF ALL TIME LMAO) - but now i'm sure. chapter 11 will be the final one. gonna do my best to get 10 and 11 up before end of year, or by very early 2023 at the latest!!! and thank u, as always, for reading 💜💜💜

[picklebunbun]

Helloooo !!! If you don't mind, can you make a Flippy/Fliqpy x reader who as a DID (dissociative identity disorder) and the other alter hurts people who get a little too close to them without asking them first and they absolutely hate insects, like , they would literally try to kill them with a knife (and surprise ! They success) but only if you agree of course !

⌗. ➞ྀིྀི⚛️! : cw; I tried to research about DID, but since it's rare to get it, I have very limited information about it so I sincerely apologize if it's not accurate. Descriptions about insects getting squashed counts as gore, correct? Insanely violent reader, this is a bit more angsty than crack, reader needs a hug and so does Flippy ,

➵ Flippy / Fliqpy x gn ! reader this is supposed to be read as romantic

{ angel's notes 🪽; new style, kind of, anyways, if anyone has DID, please tell me if I got it right }

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.

now playing [girl with one eye]

0:26 ———♡——— 3:50

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

—.𖥔 ݁ ˖⌗; hc's

before you realized you had DID, you couldn't remember what happened in your life. It was just like your life was birth and then adulthood, blanking on the memories in between .

when Flippy asked you about your childhood, you couldn't say anything. It was kind of awkward after that, you just both stayed silent .

large portions of your memory were gone by a snap of a finger, nothing made sense, it was like you took a long nap for hours and all your former friends cut off all contact with you with no explanation .

ever since then, you had trouble dealing with how you acted, you thought that everything was wrong with your body, your face, every individual cell in your skin, it didn't even felt like it was your OWN skin, so what gave you the right to judge it anyways ?

sometimes you felt like anything could set you off, suddenly getting angry at every sound, fire running up your nerves and getting major headaches from anger, a volcano waiting to destroy everything .

first of all, these systems or rather, system, not plural, was used as a defense mechanism against anything related to your trauma, even minor things like color or a specific sound. In a way, it was protecting you, maybe that's why a gigantic part of your life was missing .

when Flippy opened up to you about his disorder, it was such a relief for you, which also led you to admit that you had the same problem, which also led to you two talking about it. It was such a relief to have this conversation with someone who doesn’t think you’re crazy, even better, someone who could actually relate to what you were feeling .

the thing about your system, however, it’s defense mechanism was similar to Flipqy. It made it harder for you guys to fully trust each other. If your system took over but not Flippy’s he ended up getting hurt, but, this was a way to keep you safe, after all .

although, you did find that you calmed down from how you were before. You switched almost every time, 24/7, always being reminded on what happened to you, but since meeting Flippy, it was like all your once, dark, unlit, lightbulb just suddenly beamed with energy .

the thing is, even if Flippy fully gained your system's trust, it'd be really hard to convince everyone that you weren't dangerous, and you really didn't switch that much, it made you even more upset because everyone in the town trusted the green bear more. You thiught everything was out of place, that you didn't belong here, why live in a world that thinis it'd be better if you died anyways ?

it struck up a lot of identity issues ,,,

you and Flippy had a talk about it, it's refreshing when he comforts you, treating you delicately like an injured bird .

even if everyone hates you, as long as Flippy was next you, you'll be fine, his company is all you'll need .

it's so weird you have such an irrational fear about bugs but barely any reaction to guts and bloodshed, seeing you freak out about an insect while making sure that the soilders of WW1 eradicated the creature was definitely a sight .

bringing out a whole bazooka ಠ_ಠ ,, ?

even worse when you switch . 😭

COMES HOME WITH THE WHOLE HOUSE DESTROYED .

,,,

" hey [system / name] I ,, - WHAT HAPPENED ,, "

" ,, there was a bug "

stressing the man out oml . 😭

at least he doesn't get any bugs in his house anymore,,, BECAUSE THERE IS NO HOUSE .

chasing around a silverfish with a knife around the house

" you'll hurt yourself like that ?! "

" NOT BEFORE I HURT THIS SON OF A B TCH FIRST "

" CHRIST ALMIGHTY , [system / name] "

thank gyatt he can calm you down because everyone in the town would've been on fire .

it doesn't matter, he always loves you either way ! ❦