#my brain just might get overloaded and explode

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i listened to nothing but 3 of russ's albums for like 2 months and only now i've started listening to the rest again

[mcondance]

office pussy!reader living up to their name now that derek’s officially been initiated into the club. shii might as well throw jj in there too like!

-🐯

18+ yeah. typical feminine nicknames from derek * overstim * love how i wrote him (my first time btw!) * no jj don’t hate me y’all i can’t see her engaging in office pussy 🙁

derek gets off on going overboard. he gets off on pressing every inch of himself inside you and watching and hearing that stellar little brain of yours try to compute what you’re feeling. he’s humming “come on, mama,” his fingers gripping the desk on either side of your spread legs. he’s encouraging you, pushing you. he’s in you and he’s on you and he’s around you and every part of your consciousness is full with him.

when you grip at the back of his neck and sound out a whine layered with just how much you feel, that’s when he feels that tinge of pleasure lighting down his spine. he wants you to feel him. he wants to give you as much of him as possible, to overload every system in your body until you’re fizzing and crackling.

that’s how he relieves his stress. the tension in his shoulders dissipates with every whine of “derek,” with every held breath that explodes from your chest, with every time you tense up and get all tight around him when he fills you as full as he can. “i know you can take it, you take it all the time. anytime i need. you’re my perfect girl.”

he watches the tears flow down your cheeks, and his mind clears. he feels you cream his dick and pull him closer, and he’s shedding what drove him in this room with you in the first place. when you come for him, he’s more ready for his job than ever.

[cyberbeast99]

Wolf in the City: Part 1

"You're kidding me. NOTHING in the fridge?" I stare into the empty depths of my refrigerator with the realization that I'd eaten my way through two weeks worth of groceries in only nine days. That full-moon werewolf bingefest a few nights ago had really taken a toll on my provisions. My second transformation hadn't been as eventful as the first. I still hadn't worked up the courage to go into the woods and hunt, so I'd stayed at home, watching movies and consuming enough food to make Nikocado Avocado jealous. I sigh, knowing I have to bite the bullet and go grocery shopping today. "Welp, might as well just get it done." About an hour later, after showering, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and calling an Uber, I'm pushing my cart through the local supermarket. The thousands of scents of fruits, vegetables, meat, and scores of people overload my olfactory senses. I ignore the produce aisle and beeline to my new favourite area of the store, and soon enough my cart is loaded with a vegan's worst nightmare. I'm pretty much buying an entire butcher shop here: a few steaks, a roast, pork chops, a package each of chicken breasts, ground beef, bacon, and sausage. It's a no-brainer that I've become a bit of a carnivore. I move up and down the aisles, picking up more items: a jug of pulp-free orange juice, a box of frozen chicken nuggets, a few bags of Doritos, a dozen eggs, and a frozen cheesecake. I'm getting a few stares from other customers, but they're because of my spiky red Mohawk and my vintage leather jacket. I've heard of other therians having meltdowns in this grocery store due to attracting too much attention but I'm not too worried. The only way people could possibly tell that I'm not human is by noticing my yellow eyes or my pointy ears. I'm making my way towards checkout when CLANG! My ears explode with noise. I whip my head around and see a little boy, probably about eight years old, pull a shopping cart back from the wall, back up to the other end of the aisle, then charge his cart directly into the wall. CLANG! I clap my hands over my ears. It's so incredibly painful it draws tears from my eyes. The noise is probably just an annoyance to the other shoppers, but with my superhuman hearing, it's torture. The pain is so much that I don't notice the itching begin to spread across my body. My ears are still ringing when the little brat slams the cart into the wall again. CLANG! I feel a hand tap me on the shoulder. A woman asks "Are you alright-" I snap my head around and growl at her. She retreats. Where the hell did that come from, a small part of my brain wonders. But the rest of my brain is too preoccupied with the pain to answer that question. A pain that has begun to spread throughout my entire body. CLANG! I drop like a sack of potatoes and begin to writhe on the ground. "Call 911, he's having a seizure!" a man shouts. The screams start as the fur sprouts and my face twists into a canine snout. Bones crack. My clawed paws rip through my shoes. My mind is screaming at me in complete shock and panic. This isn't supposed to happen! The clanging stops. The world becomes silent, save for the dozens of thudding heartbeats and panicky breaths. The air is redolent with the stench of fear, a hundred times stronger than when I smelled it from Candy. I open my eyes as the pain fades. And glance around at the horror I've wrought. Everyone in the store is crowded together in a ring around me, though nobody's close than two meters. Their faces show various expressions of shock, terror, and fear. Half a dozen people have their phones out, recording the sorry scene. The little brat who caused all this is sobbing into his mother's shirt. She looks at me with absolute horror. Every muscle in my body activates at once as the panicked animal in me takes control. I leap to my feet and start to run. On all fours. And I don't stop. The crowd parts before me like the Red Sea. The automatic doors slide open. And then there's just the wind rushing through my fur, the thud of my paws on the pavement, and the tears rushing out my eyes.

[fat-butch-dyke]

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OCS PLEASE INFODUMP I LOVE HEARING ABOUT THEM how did Adam end up coming to earth? How did they find it when they first arrived? Did eve tell her friends about Adam and if so what did she say? Has eve's sister met Adam? Please tell me anything and everything your world building and these characters make my brain go brrrrr💜💜

This might be long so more under the cut and this is subject to change a bit depending on how I develop their story 😂 let's get into it!

Adam (and another of their kind whom I shall develop more later) were sucked in through a wormhole of some variety whilst they were floating around up wherever they come from. (In my universe at least) eldritch beings gain strength, power and influence by feeding off each other and absorbing the other's energy. That's what they had been ATTEMPTING to do before they'd gotten trapped in the gravitational pull and interrupted. Adam was actually about to lose that battle, the other creature managing to take a pretty gnarly bite out of it before they'd been dropped on earth like hot trash, the two of them landing in heaps on opposite ends of the planet and leaving chasms large enough to probably fit small countries in. They've both been weakened considerably from that but Adam has taken to eating humans as a means to regain its strength.

Adam was positively sickened when they first arrived! Having a physical form of any variety kinda sucks when you've spent millenia not really feeling the heat of the sun or the sharp slap of rain. Their first night was spent curled up in the crater they landed in just trying to deal with the sensory overload of earth. There are just so many different sounds. They can handle the far off noises of stars exploding or the passing of time and how it warps in certain areas of the cosmos, but all the PEOPLE and ANIMALS and the SOUNDS on earth absolutely overwhelm them even now sometimes, though they've gotten better at managing it. Their first night was spent just suffering through the agony of hearing. They have since come to almost enjoy earth though (it helps that Eve likes it so much, she wouldn't take them up on their offer to leave together). They've come to enjoy the gentle light of the sunrise and the soft feeling of rain hitting grass as they walk. They even began growing almost affectionate for humans but moreso the way a farmer comes to care for its animals before slaughter. They're fascinated by people, humanities flaws and strengths and how deeply they FEEL things, Adam loves seeing what makes them tick almost as much as they love indulging in their meals. They think it makes them taste all the sweeter.

Eve has mentioned Adam though her friends haven't met them yet. She's a bit nervous about introducing them since it's a bit...possessive and she knows they'll be frightened by them. Adam doesn't particularly care to meet them, it's happy to simply bask in her company and enjoy the happy feelings pouring out from her after a night on the town with her friends. That's all he really cares about them.

Eve's sister has met Adam though it was a bit of an accident 😂 Adam was hanging out at Eve's home one evening and her sister (Lynn) had stopped by without notice. Eve was definately wary about introducing the two since they can both be protective of her but she couldn't really pretend Adam wasn't there since Lynn has a habit of just walking in as soon as she unlocks the door. They both bristle at each other from opposite sides of Eve (like when you first introduce your cat to a strangers' cat) and dinner is tense (Lynn invites herself to stay, she doesn't trust Adam as far as she can throw them.) They eventually reach a mutual understanding that they both want Eve to be happy (and that Adam is forbidden from eating Lynn). After Lynn threatens to peel Adam's skin off if they hurt Eve, it almost finds itself growing almost fond of her. That sort of fierce protectiveness an older sister can provide makes Adam beam a bit, happy that Eve has someone else who'd literally kill for her (though they do laugh a bit at the threat). Lynn still isn't their favorite person, to be honest I think they can only TRULY care for Eve, but they get along well enough and can handle being in each other's company without biting the others head off.

I think that was all the Qs! Thanks so much for asking I'm so 🥺💜 I love these two so much aaaaa

[4sacrowd]

Gentle Parenting: Fact of Fiction?

Did you have a favorite parent growing up? You may not have wanted to admit it but subconsciously there was always one parent you were drawn to telling everything to a little more than the other. Maybe you only had one parent growing up and maybe that one parent wasn't even your favorite, it was your aunt or uncle or that neighbor down the street who mentally adopted you. Regardless of who it was there was always a reason why you were more drawn to that person. Usually it was the one that let you get away with things the other didn't, or maybe they were just easier to talk to. This parent had a different parenting style than the other, even if they were trying to portray a "united front". My husband and I have an unspoken pact that we would always try and be on the same page with things pertaining to the children, but it's definitely hard at times, especially because we definitely were raised differently. Tik Tok loves to tell us about gentle parenting and how easy it is to do, but if we're being real with ourselves, it's hard as FUCK. There's only so much kicking and screaming you can actually take and we don't all have the luxury of being able to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes. My husband's patience is SLIGHTLY better than mine, but that could also be because he isn't home with 4 kids all day. We don't ever want to be the "mean" parent, but sometimes that little "stop doing that" or "put that down" gives us that title.

The one thing I'm trying to work on is balancing the infants and the toddlers without losing my patience. Let me paint the picture so you can get a better understanding of what I'm working with:

You change two diapers, make two bottles, you sit one baby in her swing with the bottle propped up by a blanket, and sit on the floor next to her with the other one in your arms while you feed her. You hear a loud *BANG* come from upstairs and run to see what it is. Surprise surprise, your toddler dumped out the toy box for the 4th time today and is now tossing the toys down the stairs because he's fascinated by the sound they make as they roll down each step. You're already a little overstimulated so the constant *bang bang bang* of the toys rolling down the stairs pushes you over the edge.

Now any parent in this situation could easily yell to stop it, or maybe just let out a brief yelp of frustration. Some of us might just let it go and continue to fight the urge to scream, some of us might think as long as he's quiet it's fine. Me? I put the baby down, go upstairs, shut the door for exactly 2 minutes, then I come back and find something else to occupy my toddler's interest. Is it always that easy? Hell no. See, what they don't tell you is that gentle parenting usually comes from taking a minute to yourself to actually gather yourself and your thoughts and not something you can just do off whim. Some of us can and if you're reading this and you're one of them, I aspire to be like you when I grow up. However, most of the time you have to actually think about the best way to gentle parent and that includes taking a moment to YOURSELF. You are NOT a bad parent if you have to leave those kids in the room for 2-5 minutes while you gather yourself. In fact, you're a great parent because you're taking the time to think about what is in your child's best interest and it usually isn't yelling. Sometimes you lose and you yell and even on those days, it's 110% OKAY. We're human and unfortunately our brains can only take so much overload before we explode, so don't beat yourself up if you have a short tempered day, those children will still turn around and think you're the best thing since they discovered candy for the first time.

Parenting is NOT "one-size fits all", it's person-centered. What works for me, may not work for you and vice versa but the important thing is at the end of the day, we're showing our babies how much we love and care for them so that they know and they can register "mommy or daddy loves me". So if you have a bad day, grab your child and hug them and let them know, you annoyed mommy today, but I'm sorry for yelling and I love you. Gentle parenting isn't so much fact or fiction, rather it's tempered to you so do YOU and do you're absolute best because no one knows your babies like you do.

Mama loves you,

Zo

[halfafishandawholehuman]

No shame.

Honestly, it doesn’t affect Prathamik that much.

It’s a common thing he’s seen back in his homeworld. Cruel acts, too cruel to name, enacted upon one another; filled with screaming, bones breaking, and blood oozing out of bodies.

The one committing those acts wouldn’t have any shame in doing so; staring at the product of their actions with a shameless look, maybe even disdain- as if their act was just one of their daily tasks.

Maybe it was. Maybe they do that daily.

But Prathamik doesn’t know, she never stuck around long enough to find out.

And right now, he really doesn’t wanna stick around here to find out what they might do next.

In terms of not wanting to stay, Grim feels the same way.

As Oetsu relays a buttload of information to the feline, his head starts to get crowded, words filling his tiny cat brain to the brim.

In response to that information overload, what does the Magebeast do? A) Try to take it apart piece by piece in order to properly understand it; B) Ask questions in order to comprehend the information; or C) Completely disregard it as unimportant?

C.

“I… have no idea what you just said…” The feline starts, “But-!”

When the man’s fist comes down to bonk on the cat’s head, a dull pain explodes in there, making his brain rattle inside of his skull.

And Grim yelps, tiny paws coming up to cover the aching spot. “What the heck was that for?!” He cries, already on the verge of tears.

His pain tolerance was… never the best.

“It ain’t my fault it’s hot out here- blame the weather or something, not me!”

The magebeast is unaware of the temperature change that’s occurring, unaware of the fact that he’s causing the air to become hot in response to his anger.

It fact, he finds the weather pretty cool- perfect conditions to lie in if he were in Night Raven Academy.

‘It is what it is’?

Grim ain’t gonna take that lying down! There’s no way this is all there is to it- he’s got too much to live for! He’s gotta become the strongest, he’s gotta eat all the tuna he can, he’s gotta live his life to the fullest!

The flames on his ears slowly rise, a snarl making way to his face.

He refuses to just accept this.

“So this stinkin’ place is a palace?” Grim asks, “And is this ‘soul king’ guy in charge? If so, I want a word with ‘im!” Small flickers of fire start to peek at the corners of the magebeast’s mouth. “Take me to that guy!” The air around him starts to get hotter.

Prathamik doesn’t seem to mind, though- not even a hint of sweat on the human’s face.

She’s just staring. Staring into the blue sky.

All of his thoughts are slowly becoming a bumbling mess, blending together until they’re no longer audible- until they’re just a mess of desperation, rage, and despair.

Clawing at her heart, tearing it to pieces- soon going for the ribs and cracking them; one by one.

No.

His hands start to shake.

No. No.

The entire world starts to blur, becoming nothing more than a crummy shade of blue.

No- no, it can’t be. It can’t.

She turns to look at the stranger.

There has to be a way back. There has to. Either he was lying when he said there wasn’t an exit, or he doesn’t know; there always has to be a way back home.

…right?

[purplelupins]

wait how do you think sweet dreams Albert handles reader having sensory overload while they’re out?

This is a great question! (And one that really is close to me because I get sensory overload a lot) this is based on my own experience, and will change from person to person but the gist is the same!

Albert wouldn’t really know what was happening at first. He might think that she was just anxious or uncomfortable, and he would try to comfort her as such, but when those things don’t work completely, he starts to feel uneasy. He would pull her into a quiet area of wherever they were, and hold her arms gently, bending down if he needs to. He would look into her eyes, and see the vacancy and would have a flash of that damn black phone in the basement. That time he decided to answer it and he was hit with a pulse of disorienting anxiety.

He wouldn’t know everything that was happening to her, or what to call it, but he knew that everything in that moment was too much for her. He had seen it in her face the first time he had taken her for a walk- a car had driven by and honked at a cyclist, and she nearly cried.

Albert would start by rubbing her arms to show her he was there and that she was safe, and as he did that he would start to speak.

“Y/n? Y/n I know you’re having a hard time right now but if you can hear me blink two times.”

After a second of letting his words pierce her walled up brain she would do as he said.

“There’s my good girl…I want you to keep listening okay? Okay. I need you to close your eyes, alright…” she again did so after a moment, “Atta girl, now I’m going to cover your ears and when you’re ready you need to start counting down fron ten for me, alright? Out loud. Then when you’re done, keep your eyes closed but I’m going to count down too. When I hit one, open your eyes for me. Okay? “

She nodded slowly, and Albert cover her eared with his bag hands and waited. After a long moment, his sweet girl began counting down. Sure enough by the time she had reached 5, her shoulders were relaxing, and by the time she finished her breathing was steadier.

Albert carefully removed his hands and counted down; he took her hands in his and drew small circles on the backs of her hands until he finished as well. “Open You’re eyes when you’re ready bunny.”

She took a long deep breath and finally opened her eyes. That dazed look in her eyes was gone, and her skin was no longer looking waxy. He grinned and held her face, “You’re alright.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, taking long breaths of his smell. Albert closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Having his sweet girl find her saftest place in him made fireworks explode behind his eyelids.

“Let’s go home, hm? I’ll take care of this later.” He murmured into her hair and rocked her back and forth to further calm her. He felt her nod against his shirt and he ever so slowly pulled her to his side so he could guide her back to the car(van or truck depending on when this happened)

He would take her home and wash her in the bath, kneeling beside her with his sleeves rolled up as he washed her hair. He would wrap her in a blanket and set her down on the couch with Sampson beside her, and cut her some banana bread before joining her, and stroking her hair, all the while basking in the fact that she put her entire well-being in his hands.

[jessifiy]

Idk about the boys, rushing around a foreign country to a bunch of different interviews, all in a foreign language and with interviewers (who have good intentions but) whose only knowledge of BTS is what they could look up five minutes beforehand, all the while (probably) stressing over the AMA’s and all their other performances and consequently the reaction from the audience and America as a whole....

...BUT THIS IS SUPER HARD FOR ME! I can’t keep up with all these new things happening right now and it’s stressing me tf out!

[giuliamarcovaldo]

You’re Okay, Luca

i wanted to read autistic!luca fics but i couldn’t find any. so what did i do? i wrote my own. this is my first time posting fanfic here! so enjoy this little autistic!luca story (with some luberto fluff and angst)

TW: mentions of violent stimming + meltdown

“I was about to have a meltdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Summary: Luca gets over stimulated at a fancy dinner party, and Alberto witnesses Luca having a meltdown for the first time.

I want to say they’re 16-17 in this??

100% sfw because they are children

word count: 1580

also please don’t kill me if the Italian words are wrong i used google translate sksjsjaksk

(also note: i am autistic)

——————

Alberto knew I was autistic. I told him about a year ago, when we first became a thing.

“This doesn’t change anything, Luca. There’s nothing in this world that could make me stop loving you.” His words rang through my head as I felt the onset of a meltdown.

Giulia had invited Alberto and me to a gathering with some of her extended family in Genoa. They were all very nice, and Alberto even made friends with some of them (which was no surprise). That wasn’t the cause of my meltdown. It was the atmosphere. It was a bright, loud fancy dining hall, nearly at full capacity. I was wearing a suit and tie that Giulia’s cousin had let me borrow. The collar was scratching my skin in the worst possible way but I didn’t want to be rude so I sucked it up. That was my first mistake. Between the bright lights, loud conversations and music, jam-packed room, a plethora of smells from foods that I had never heard of, and the suit collar, I could feel it coming.

It was sensory overload at first. I tried stimming subtly. I wasn’t out as autistic to everyone yet and the thought of them judging me for stimming made my anxiety worse. But I had to do something. Squeezing my hands into fists under the table. Chewing the inside of my cheek. Running my fingers through my hair repeatedly. It wasn’t enough, but somehow too much at the same time.

I was getting more and more fidgety. It was becoming harder to mask. Would it be rude to just get up and leave without saying anything? Probably. I couldn’t move anyway. I was frozen in my seat. My facial expressions were almost completely gone at this point, along with my ability to speak. Alberto noticed that something was wrong.

“Luca, hey, are you alright?” I couldn’t get the words “no, I feel like I’m about to explode into a violently stimming disaster if I don’t get out of here right now but I can’t move and I feel helpless” out of my mouth so I just nodded and gave him a small, unconvincing smile. I didn’t want to burden Alberto while he was having such a good time. I knew it was ridiculous to think that Alberto would mind helping me calm down, but my brain wouldn’t quit telling me otherwise.

Silenzio, Bruno. Silenzio, Bruno. Silenzio, Bruno. It wasn’t working.

Alberto didn’t look convinced. He knew me too well. Ever since I told him I was autistic he tried his best to make sure I was as comfortable as possible in every situation. I loved him for that but I hated myself for it. It’s like I always need to be babysat and I hate it. I know that he loves me so why do I feel so guilty?

My intrusive thoughts running through my mind was the final straw. It was all too much. Alberto’s face looked more concerned as each moment passed. He was about to witness me having a meltdown for the first time since we met. I didn’t know if I was ready for that type of vulnerability but I didn’t really have a choice. I was about to have a meltdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Luca, we’re going to go some place quiet, okay?”

I shook my head no. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. It had gone from sensory overload, to shutdown, to a full-blown meltdown. I couldn’t hold back my stims anymore. I started hitting my head with my fists and pulling at my hair. Tears rolled down my face uncontrollably, exposing my green-blue scales.

Perfecto.

I didn’t know which was worse: violently and uncontrollably stimming in front of everyone, or unintentionally outing myself as a sea monster. They might have been tied. Most of the guests were too into their conversations to notice the autistic sea monster having a meltdown next to them but the few who did notice started to pass glances and whisper amongst themselves.

“Luca, Luca, you’re okay. I know you don’t like anyone touching you when you’re in sensory overload but I’m going to help you get out of here, okay?”

Alberto helped me get up from the table and escorted me out of the dining room, using his suit jacket to cover my face so no one would see my scales, but being careful to not let it touch my face. We made our way to a long hallway off of the lobby. Alberto sat me down on the ground and flipped the hallway light switch off. Light from the lobby trailed into the hallway but didn’t reach us at the end.

I was out of the environment but still at the height of my meltdown. Tears were still coming from my eyes. I continued to tug at my hair while I rocked back and forth. I couldn’t vocalize anything except for non verbal sounds. I felt so helpless, so defeated, so ashamed.

Alberto tried to redirect my violent stims, to no avail. I’m sure he felt helpless too. I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. And I felt bad that Alberto couldn’t help that.

Alberto sat a few feet away from me, probably resisting the urge to pull me into a hug.

“I’ll just sit with you, okay? You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Alberto reassured me that he wasn’t leaving. My perception of time isn’t that great but it felt like at least 45 minutes before I started to come down. Still there, like he said he would be, Alberto let out a deep shaky breath. I hadn’t looked at him the entire time because I was too embarrassed that he had to see all of that. When I finally did glance up at him, I notice two trails of purple scales down his cheeks. Knowing he had cried hurt me even more.

“Are you feeling better?” I was still nonverbal and rocking back and forth but my violent stims had passed. I opened my left hand flat and tapped it with my right index finger.

“Oh! Right,” Alberto pulled a pen and pad from my jacket, which he had helped me remove from my body earlier in my meltdown. He slid them across the floor and anxiously waited for me to write my response.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

Alberto’s face changed as he read what I had written. His green eyes looked sadder when they met my gaze. I could feel my tears starting to well up again.

“No, no, Luca, mio amore, please don’t feel bad. I should have checked on you earlier than I did. I got a little lost with everything going on in there. I’m sorry that I didn’t check up on you sooner...” Alberto was very protective of me. I know that the thought of me suffering while he didn’t know was absolutely crushing him. But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t anybody’s. I was starting to think rationally again. I shouldn’t feel sorry for having meltdowns, for being autistic, for being myself. But I should have spoken up when I started to feel uncomfortable. That’s something I need to work on, and I know I can do it as long as Alberto is with me. And he always will be.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” I know Alberto was dying to physically comfort me. It was his love language. I nodded my head yes and gave him a warm smile. He crawled over to me and I opened my arms to embrace him. I listened to his steadying heartbeat while he whispered affirmations to me and gently rubbed my back. Warm tears started to fall down my face.

God, I love this boy so much.

“Bontà, there you two are! I’ve been looking everywhere! What happ-“ Giulia’s voice got closer as she made her way down the hallway.

“Oh no, Luca... mi dispiace... I didn’t know you were- when did- where-“ She crouches down next to the two of us. Giulia, also being autistic, could tell I was in post-meltdown. She slaps her palm to her forehead and curses herself.

“Of course! I should have been more aware about- why didn’t I- are you okay?”

“Giulia,” Alberto places his hand on her shoulder. “he’s alright. Nothing that happened is your fault. Or... mine for that matter. We’re alright.”

“Can I get you guys something? A glass of water?”

I nod my head yes.

“Water sounds good, grazie, little sis.” Alberto and Giulia exchange smiles, then she leaves down the hallway, her red curls bouncing behind her.

“Luca,” Alberto cups my cheek in his hand, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

“I love you, okay? I love you so, so much. Nothing is going to change that. Please, don’t ever feel like an inconvenience. It hurts to see you like that, and I know it hurts to experience it. Please, tell me next time, Okay?”

I didn’t even need to tell him that I felt like an inconvenience. He just knew. Like I said, he knows me too well. I nod my head, and pull him back into an embrace. Alberto combs his fingers through my hair, getting rid of the tangles that I made in it earlier.

I feel lighter. I feel safe to be myself. I feel more loved than ever.

——————

that’s it! my first fic! a lot of this is me projecting onto luca (sksakdjsjjsk) but i had a lot of fun writing it! feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism. likes and reblogs appreciated!! :)

[messedupfan]

Infinity & Beyond (Wanda Maximoff x Reader) Chapter 3

Summary: You have been in Hydra's possession for almost two years and your body has had enough. Wanda has moved on with Vision but what happens when you return? (Takes place during Infinity War)

A/N: So I was staying away from social media until I got to see Black Widow (other than checking certain fanfic updates ofc) and I finally did on Sunday and it was amazing. Will be posting more chapters soon.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally the day came when the powers in your body went into an overload as the scientists were probably closer to killing you than they were to controlling you. All of your power burst and caused the entire lab to explode, leaving no survivors. This also sent a sizable distress signal to Vision which caused the stone to give him a horrible headache. He abruptly left the hotel room he shared with Wanda and went to find Tony. But because he would rather spend that time with Wanda, he let Stark go alone and blocked all communication and tracking on him. Tony took off in the Iron-Man suit to the precise location that Vision had given him before disappearing. When he arrives at the Hydra base he finds that it was reduced to nothing but rubble. He begins to fear the worst again.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a full scan of the area and let me know if there is anyone left,” Tony sighs the fear and guilt that he might’ve been too late creeping on him. The program confirms and highlights where your body is. When he gets close the program runs a quick damage diagnostics on you but the results are inconclusive. He removes pieces of the building that laid on you and lifts you in his arms to take you to the Avengers compound.

After he has the best doctors working on you he tries to get in contact with Wanda or Vision but is unable to reach either. Wanda was concerned by the buzzing phone but then Vision convinced her to turn it off for the time being and just be in the moment with him. She reluctantly agreed despite the gut feeling telling her to answer the call. This means you wake up without her by your side, with only Tony Stark sitting next to you.

“I didn’t know about you and if I had… I would have made sure that you and your mother were taken care of,” he says right off the bat once you’ve opened your eyes.

You can’t help but scoff, “You taking care of my mom? The one who I watched be blown to bits and pieces by a weapon you designed?” Finally having a memory relieves, confuses, and infuriates you. Tony opens his mouth to explain himself but shuts it as you start to seize. The memories and the emotions become too much for your brain to handle, not to mention the constant cycle of being brought in and out of consciousness taking its toll on you. Doctors rush in to put you in another medically induced coma to save you from you and everything returns to black. Tony was worried beyond belief but hoped that you being knocked out might be enough to get Wanda Maximoff back here to help you recover.

Wanda does feel you in her dreams again only this time she feels too guilty to do anything about it. She had been moving on with someone else, she was a fugitive, and was pretty sure the first thing Stark would do if he ever saw her again is turn her in. Another thing she was guilty of was letting you go. Her days were spent either with Vision or on a mission with Steve, Nat, and Sam. She avoided thinking about you as much as possible. But when night time came and she got to see you, she held onto you. This time she made an entirely new reality for the two of you. One where the two of you could be a happy couple out in the streets. One where you owned a home together and were planning on having a family. In them she kept her natural hair instead of revealing the drastic change of her current red hair.

The dreams were happy and full of love, the colors were vibrant and warm and felt like a sitcom television show. You had grown accustomed to them arriving at certain times but for the most part, it was nothing but darkness. Like you were trying to find pieces of you but you couldn’t find anything. It was just a figure of you in your mind sitting in a dark room waiting for the brunette girl to come back and play with you. Sometimes you wished that she would just stay with you forever but you understood that not everyone could remain asleep forever.

After a few weeks they start to reduce the medication that was keeping you unconscious but you continue to sleep even after the drugs are completely out of your system. Everyone is confused and Tony puts pressure on them to find out why you haven’t come out of your coma. The only reassuring information they could give him is that you were perfectly healthy and your brain appeared to be fully functioning. They even pointed out the periods of time that it was very active. That information made Tony smile. He wished there was a way for him to tell her that it was safe for her to come back. But if she wasn’t going to answer his calls, he wasn’t going to physically bring her back.

It’s not until New York is attacked by aliens a second time that you finally wake up from your extended slumber. Dr. Bruce Banner is there this time, going over your charts. He is startled by your groan of pain, your head was killing you. He has people do a full work up on you before he gives you some strong pain medication. He sits with you out of guilt for not being able to turn into Hulk and help Tony. Maybe he wouldn’t be trapped in outer space right now if he had been able to. You ask him if you missed anything important because why else would he be sitting in the room with a complete stranger?

Bruce explains in as much detail as he can about Thanos and the infinity stones. He helps you out of your bed but you find that you are perfectly fine despite not having walked in years. You are amazed that you feel better with each step and by the time you’ve reached the common area you feel ready to help take down this Thanos guy. That’s when you see her for the first time.

Your breath is taken away as tiny bits of memories of her flash through your mind. It’s not a lot and most of them you can’t tell if they are real or not. But they are there. Only you start to doubt if it was actually her because her hair was completely different.

Wanda stops in her tracks and stares at you in shock. She can’t decipher whether or not you are real. Even begins to fear that she is asleep at the moment. “Y/N,” she says in barely a whisper. You stare at her confused. How does she know your name when you can’t even conjure up hers? Bruce and Natasha have their own awkward moment but you are too distracted to notice or care. It’s not like you knew much about either of them anyway.

You watch as everyone moves to another room but you don’t follow, you are cemented to the ground you stand on by the emerald green eyes that haven’t moved from you. She snaps out of it for a moment when she feels Vision's arm slip out of her grasp. Out of habit she gives him a kiss on the cheek and tells him and the man holding the synthezoid upright that she will catch up with them in a moment. She just needed a moment. You stay put because you feel like you have to. You might not remember her consciously but a strong part of you does. “I looked for you. I never stopped looking for you,” Wanda says as she steps closer, desperately wanting to touch you, while everyone else has cleared the area.

Your eyebrows crease in confusion and you frown. “Why would you search for me? Do we know each other or something?” She gives you a hurt look, stopping in her tacks, then closes her eyes as red wisps of energy flow out of her finger tips. Very suddenly the reality in fron you changes and you’re not standing in the Avengers compound. Instead you are floating over Sokovia fighting off robot after robot until you are gunned down by a jet. You view yourself drop to the ground then watch as the land explodes and you are thrown from it. Everything you missed from the past two years of your life is being played right in front of you and it’s painful to watch. It is just as painful for Wanda to see it too. Her guilt grows knowing that you were being tortured and she was playing house with Vision. It is an odd experience for you, since you don’t remember any of it. It feels like you’re watching a movie and the screaming actor is just your twin.

Wanda covers her mouth as she fights back tears once she stops searching your brain. “You don’t remember me,” she states with a choked sob. “It’s not your fault. I don’t think you can remember much, it’s a mess in there.” For some reason seeing her this upset triggers something inside of you that wants to comfort her. Take all of her pain away. Make her feel better about the situation even.

You step closer to her, “That’s not entirely true. You were the girl in my dreams… right? I remember just being in darkness for so long with nothing but an awareness that I couldn’t escape it. It was… awful and lonely. Until you showed up. At first I thought I just imagined you but then you would disappear and I couldn’t bring you back no matter how hard I tried. Then when you would show up I had zero control over what would happen but I was just honestly happy to see you. It became my favorite time of… whatever time you went to bed.” Her features visibly soften as you talk about the dreams. It was her favorite thing to do at night. She cared deeply for Vision but she can accept now that she could never let you go. “Can I ask you something?” She nods. “Why were the dreams always… romantic?”

“Oh… Um…” she fails to come up with a lie. She swore to never lie to you and right now she couldn’t think of a reason why she should. “Because before that fight with Ultron… Before I lost you… We uh were… You and I… We were in love.” The tears build up in her eyes again and it’s taking everything in her not to break down in that moment.

“But you’re with someone else now,” you state to remind her that she shouldn’t be so sad. She moved on.

“I am,” she wipes her eyes with her sleeve.

“Then why are you so upset by me?” You can’t help but ask.

Wanda is taken back by the question. Why was she upset? No, she knew why. She just had to admit it. “Because I couldn’t let you go. I uh… I tried to move on and lose hope of ever finding you… Vision reminded me of you sometimes and… I still love you. I always will. But if you don’t want me to fight for you I…” she sighs and looks down at her fidgeting fingers before looking back up at you. “I will continue to move on with him.”

This makes you think for a moment. Although the answer should have been easy since you barely have memories of her… it isn’t. There is a part of you that wants her to fight for you. Help you remember who you are and what the two of you used to be to each other. But that same part of you also doesn’t want you to waste her time if it can’t be done. It wants her to be happy and if that isn’t with you then you might have to let her go. As you open your mouth to speak, Steve and the rest of them enter the main area again. “We’re going to Wakanda and we are going to need you ladies to join us,” he gives Wanda an apologetic look. It was clear that he knew what you meant to her and that made it harder for you to decipher your answer.

“Okay. Let’s go,” you say to Steve instead of answering Wanda. “We’ll finish this after we save the world,” you give Wanda the mind message and notice a flicker of hope in her eyes as she nods and follows everyone else to the Quinjet. With a wave of the hand the light grey sweatsuit you wore had flashed into a black leather jumpsuit lined with a vibrant pink. You turn and join everyone on the jet. You notice that Wanda had done a quick change herself. Bruce has you sit next to her so that he can catch the two of you up to speed with everything they discussed.

“And if they can’t remove the stone in time, Wanda, you are going to have to destroy it where it is. For your sake, I hope you get to destroy the stone without having to destroy Vision.” Steve finishes the briefing with understanding but hopeful eyes. Wanda nods wordlessly, now she is more conflicted than before. She won’t know how she’ll feel about having to destroy the person who has helped her through so much pain until that moment comes. If that moment comes. She wasn’t sure if she wanted that moment to come or not.

The jet lands in Wakanda in no time at all and everyone is greeted by King T’Challa, his sister, and their soldiers. You hear Bruce ask if he is supposed to bow, confused you ask yourself that as well. You join Bruce in bowing when everyone gives the two of you funny looks. Rhody shakes his head and laughs, Wanda can’t help but crack a smile as well. “We don’t do that here,” T’Challa kindly says in a thick accent. A blush warms up your cheeks as you rise from your curtsy. The group of you are led into a lab where more is discussed about the stone and the removal of it.

“Wanda, as soon as that stone’s out of his head… You blow it to hell,” Steve directs as everyone prepares to fight whatever landed just outside the border.

“I will,” Wanda responds confidently.

You consider staying in the room to help protect Vision, Wanda, and Shuri just in case but ultimately decide that it would be better to prevent anyone from getting in the building at all. You look at Wanda and wonder if you should give her an answer now. Maybe even kiss her goodbye.

She must’ve read your mind because she looks at you with a soft smile and sends you a mind message, “I love you to infinity. Now go be a hero.” Then she turns her worried expression back to Vision on the operating table. You activate your powers and leave the building with the rest of them. At the border are two alien type beings that are very unhappy. Natasha mocks them about some friend of theirs and the female alien threatens that she will pay for his life.

Everyone watches as herds of alien type animals make their way to the barrier and try to force their way through. Heads and arms are being cut off but they keep trying until a few successfully break through. Banner notices them running around the dome and points out the danger of that. Steve recognizes it as does T’Challa. The king orders for a section of the barrier to be opened as everyone prepares themselves for this fight. Once the barrier is open the battle is instant. You charge through the large number of Outriders slicing through each mindless creature. One after the other like a mad person. You notice other members struggling, being overwhelmed by the amount of Outriders jumping on them. Distracted by not knowing how to help them you end up on the ground covered in the dog-like creatures. You do your best to fight them off but you begin to panic and fear that it might not be possible.

Out of nowhere a large glowing axe slices through the monstrous things and they are cleared off of you. You stand to find that Thor has arrived along with a tree with a face and a racoon with a gun. Not too soon after that the trees in the distance start moving and your eyes widen in fear as the ground rises and suddenly there are giant sharp machines breaking out of the ground. “Oh fun,” you say as the Black Panther orders everyone to fall back. You start running for your life and fighting off as many of the creatures as you can. You end up between Natasha and Okoye as the machine comes towards the three of you. Luckily someone was watching from above and she drops down in front of you lifting the death machines in the air and then dropping it on oncoming Outriders. You grin at her, impressed by her powers and then clutch your head as memories start to flood in again. But she doesn’t get to check in on you as she fends off more attackers and then someone is calling in about a Vision situation and Steve is ordering for someone to get to him.

The alien woman from earlier strikes Wanda in the head and says, “He’ll die alone. As will you.”

“She’s not alone,” Black Widow says as you come out of your state and stand in a fighting position with your powers activated. She goes after Natasha first and you and Okoye join in on trying to take this creature down. Bruce calls for more back up for Vision and Natasha tells you to go, that they could handle it. You show up just after Steve tackles another alien to the ground and yells at Vision to go. Making the decision to get Vision out of there you don’t help Steve with fighting right away. Vision refuses to move away and tells you that you guys can’t leave. When Steve gets tackled to the ground, he repeats the words that Cap had told the synthezoid. With a groan you agree and rush over to stab the alien through his back with his own weapon. You yank it out of the alien to let it bleed out and maybe even to use it for yourself. You were unapologetically impressed by the fact that the weapon had prevented Vision from using his powers. You stab the handle in the ground so that you can help Steve.

“Sorry, Cap. The tin man said we couldn’t go just yet,” You joke as you help him up. Wanda flies in and worries over Vision and you kick yourself thinking that maybe the stone would be out of his head if you had stayed in that lab. But you’re not able to dwell on it for too long since more memories of her are triggered, start to attack you and you drop to the ground holding your head. Steve tries to check on you but you wave him off. The stone was causing Vision pain and he informs Wanda and Steve that Thanos is there. Steve warns everyone else through comms.

What feels like seconds later a black and blue cloud appears out of nothing and a giant purple man walks out. Banner is the first one to charge at him but is zero match for the man wielding the powers of five stones. Then Steve and T’Challa attempt their attacks. Meanwhile Vision is trying to convince Wanda to destroy him and you are being attacked by almost every memory you have forgotten. Banner does his best to talk you through it over the communications earpiece and tries to bring you back to reality. “Come on kid, you’ve gotta snap out of it. The world needs you.” Thankfully his voice was enough to pull you out of it for the time being. You open your eyes to see Natasha get trapped into the ground and others trying and failing to take Thanos down.

As he nears Wanda you jump at him from the side using more powers you were unaware that you had in the first place. Your arms are crossed out in front of you blasting a massive amount of power from your arms and chest towards Thanos. But it does nothing to deter him and next thing you know you are impaled through the chest with the weapon you saved, gasping for air and watching as Wanda holds off Thanos long enough to destroy the yellow stone on her own. There is a giant blast of power which knocks Wanda to the ground in exhaustion and pushes the sharp object inside of you deeper. You groan in pain but try to figure out how to get out of this alive.

Thanos places his hand on her red hair and sympathizes with the young woman. Then his gauntlet glows green as he brings Vision and the stone back. “No!” Wanda cries out as he throws her to the ground and lifts the synthezoid, removes the stone from his head, and tosses him to the floor like a rag doll. You feel a range of emotions at the sight, most of them being hopelessness. You try to send a blast of power to push the stone out of his hands and Thanos just shakes his head with an evil smirk as he adds it to the collection.

That’s when she finally notices you and the look on her face is much more broken than it was having to watch Vision die twice. Wanda runs over to you with a face full of tears as Thor slams his axe into Thanos’ chest. You cough as the blood fills your lungs making it difficult to breathe. Wanda takes your hand, “I’m so sorry,” she cries. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you,” her cry turns into a sob. “Not you too. Not again.” At this point almost all memory of her is restored and you feel just as much pain for her as she does for you. "I just got you back."

“I-I,” you struggle and she leans in closer to hear you. “I love… you to… beyond,” you finally say and this causes a cascade of tears to flow down her face as she lets out a broken sob.

“You remember?”

All you can do is nod and say, “Kiss me.”

She does, just as Thanos snaps his fingers. Slowly, Wanda slips through yours as others disappear. You want to cry out because just as the two of you had finally found each other, you lost her. Except the pain in your chest was already unbearable. But that was okay, you were ready to let go to see her again. Once the shock has worn off some, people rush to your aid. Thor is the one to pick you up in his arms and fly you to the lab to be healed. As the blood flows freely you slip into another coma midway knowing that you will never see the love of your life ever again. Hoping they will let you die.

Chapter 4

[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie​ because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

[baejax-the-great]

Alternate Ending

Working on a fic that got derailed when Garrus and Shepard decided to make out. Figured I’d post this version here while spraying them with cold water on the other version.

Shakarian (AO3), Rated T, mild suicide mentions

~

“You know I thought those shield fluctuations were just my sensors getting confused by your teleportation act?”

Shepard barely glanced over her shoulder before going back to removing her armor. “Did you?”

It wasn’t until he saw a slug hit her in the shoulder that Garrus realized she really was launching herself into the center of the fray—and exploding—completely unshielded. “Shepard, what the fuck.”

She waved a hand in the air. “The dark energy—the way it—in order to—look it overloads my shield emitters, or, well, not exactly, I sort of overload them on purpose along with everything else—but they recover pretty fast. It’s no big deal.”

No big deal? He’d never heard her trip over her words like that. “You’re standing there with your hump out—”

“It’s really good body armor, not even scratched, and I don’t have a hump unless you mean my ass—”

“You’re a sinking pigeon!”

“What?”

She dropped her chest piece on top of the pile, the sound echoing through the armory, and they stared at each other in mutual incomprehension. Garrus wasn’t angry, not really, but he veered into distinct annoyance when Shepard started laughing, a quick burst of startled air as her shoulders dropped.

Had she really lost her last shred of self-preservation?

“The expression is ‘sitting duck,’ birdman. Anyway, why do you think I bring my best sniper with me everywhere I go?”

She turned back to her armor as Garrus huffed. “I thought I couldn’t hit the side of a barn.”

“You can’t. I was talking to the visor. You’re just its mobile weapons unit.”

“Huh.”

She tossed the armor pieces into her locker in a way that would have made any turian commander give her latrine duty for a month and kicked the door closed.

Kasumi’s words came back to him, and in spite of himself, Garrus laughed. “Dammit.”

“What?” she asked with a sidelong glance as she began unsealing her softsuit.

“Kasumi called me your emotional support turian.”

That gave her pause. She got her suit rolled down to her waist, just some thin civilian clothes up top now, exposing a dark purple lump on her shoulder. She shrugged. “Well if I have any emotions that need a shot between the eyes, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Shepard had gone unreadable while she fussed with her legs, and the weird tension that filled the room had Garrus bouncing on his feet. It occurred to him that he was now just watching Shepard undress for no particular reason.

“You should get that shoulder checked out.”

She slammed her suit down in front of her. “I might be a sinking pigeon, but you are a mother hen. It doesn’t even hurt.”

On what may have been his most suicidal impulse to date, Garrus reached out and poked it.

“Shit.” Shepard snatched his hand, and the very real possibility of Shepard decking him floated through Garrus’s head. But she just threw his hand to the side and said, “Fine. I’ll hit the medbay.”

Garrus didn’t know what made him do it. Gun to his head, he couldn’t have answered. But with seemingly no rational thoughts left in his brain, he reached out poked her again, one turian finger into the soft flesh of her side.

She caught his hand, and this time didn’t let go. “What are you…?”  She let the words linger in the air, a questioning smile on her lips.

And yeah, Garrus was definitely feeling suicidal because when he tried to pull away and she didn’t let go of his wrist, he poked her a third time with his other hand, or, well, he tried to, but she intercepted before he made contact, and now she had both of his hands in a tight grip on either side of her hips, and…

Oh. That was what he was doing. He was flirting. Apparently. Like a twelve-year-old who didn’t know how to just talk to a woman and instead provoked her with juvenile antics.

Shepard was provoked.  

He gave another weak attempt to pull his hands back, but Shepard didn’t let go. Pulled him in tighter, and either she was an expert in turian flirting or she was lining herself up to headbutt him straight to Andromeda.

She wasn’t smiling anymore.

His heart was in his throat as her eyes traveled over his face, inscrutable. He realized he was leaning in even closer, looming over her, really, but he couldn’t figure out how to stop.

Just when Garrus was about to try to excuse himself to take a dive out the airlock, just to cool off, Shepard lunged forward with the weirdest headbutt of all time, planting her mouth over his. Garrus made a noise that was something like “grggghhll?” but Shepard had released his hands and they were back at their absurd stunts, grabbing her around her squishy human waist and pressing her against his body.  

Whatever this was, it was happening. Shepard sure as hell wasn’t pulling away, one of her hands creeping up around his neck to hold his face more firmly to hers. Her lips were warm against his mouth, and her nose was sort of smashed into his cheek, but she didn’t seem to care. And now that she was in his arms, he did not want to let go. This was, she was—weird, but good weird. Soft and kind of wet and Garrus had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

What he did was clumsily push her against the table and jostle her injured shoulder.

Shepard broke away with a hiss and a curse. She gave him a light shove, enough to knock him back two steps, though there was that smile again. Garrus’s hands, instigators of all of this, were now hanging limp by his side, no help at all.

Shepard’s eyes flicked over him. She absentmindedly ran a finger over her lips, which looked a bit pinker than they had earlier. “I’m going to, uh, I am going to go see Chakwas about this. The shoulder, not the uh—” she laughed “—You can… you can stay here and figure out what just happened. Yeah.”

Shepard left the armory in her socks, her softsuit still in a pile on the table. Garrus mirrored her earlier action, rubbing a finger over where her mouth had been just moments before. She’d left a little spit on him.

Weird. So, so weird.

After a minute, when his heart rate had slowed down to something approaching normal, he typed a query into his omnitool.

“That is what they call kissing?” he asked to the empty armory.

More importantly, could he get her to do it again?  

He jumped when EDI’s voice filled the room. “The Commander has asked me to relay a message to you.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Go ahead.”

“She says that if you wish to continue your earlier conversation, you should wait for her in her quarters. She anticipates being done with Dr. Chakwas in about fifteen minutes.”

Garrus rubbed his thumb over his mouth again. Fifteen minutes was not a lot of time to learn… everything about human romance. “Thanks, EDI. I’ll, uh. Guess I’ll go wait. Ah, hm. You don’t have to tell her that.”

“Understood.”                                                                                                

Garrus shuffled into the CIC and just hoped nobody noticed that when he called the elevator, he had pushed the up button.

[starilicious]

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[leyyvi]

Ley! Ley! I’m just so sgisiskandlsjekksnddm. The whole time I was reading the chapter I was smooshing my face against my phone! I kept going from holding back tears to trying not to giggle like a school girl! It was an emotional overload! This chapter killed me. I couldn’t handle how touching it was.

Levi opening up just a little more and kissing your hand! I just died at all the hand attention in this chap. Also 🥺 holding you while you ugly cry. And that meltdown the reader had hit so close to home, I felt so exposed reading that! and then Levi just encouraging reader to be happy. Like your cracking my fucking heart open like an egg. It’s just making a gooey mess here. 

How scared Levi was. Like how he keeps reminding himself that he has to TRY. He has to open up because what’s even worse then being rejected is losing whatever it is that you let him have bdkkshdkshejemksjensn

But I love how reader had no idea what the tattoo meant! Like low key if that was me id be like ??? I wasn’t teasing your tits this whole time cause what? of a tattoo? Sounds like wasted time to me. (I’m sorry I have to use humor to deflect how much this made me feel.) Also just getting to wash with Levi and molding yourself to him and him feeling skin on a place he hasn’t allowed almost like a form of punishment! But reader is so tender with him!

Laying with him in bed and just talking was so therapeutic. Like this whole chapter was! It was like taking the biggest breath of fresh air. Also my money is his first love being Furlan. But I just love how open he was in this chapter and just while being open with the reader is easier than other people it’s still a choice. One he’s not taking lightly. I’m just laying on the floor trying to keep it together while he opens up more and more. Also how reader checks if what he’s doing is normal for these arrangements and it’s not but they can’t let themselves hope or assume!

But then the domestic day! Ley! Ley! I’m turning to mush with all this fluff. I can’t tell you how many times I re-read breakfast with Levi. Making sure he doesn’t fall off the ladder like it’s nothing but it’s something. Its everything! It’s showing the reader cares! Without even thinking she’s takes care of him! And he’s not had that since his mom! Where someone cares about him and doesn’t make him feel like it’s a chore- HES A CHORE. or even something that can be compromised. It just is!

The nail! I’m just 🥺. THE NAIL MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN THE FIANL NAIL IN MY COFFIN. Babygirl him. He deserves it. He needs to be loved and wanted and treated so tenderly. Specking of tenderly the soft touches from playing with his sleeve to the creasing the hip. It’s so SO MUCH. It’s got so much MUCH-NESS! Like the way this chapter made my heart explode and even thinking back on it my chest is filling and I’m smiling. But you sent me to Nirvana when he asked the reader to stay! 😍

CHRIS!!!!!!!! I've grown obsessed with writing about hands and perhaps I've gone a bit overboard at times but AHDFJ

He appreciates her so much :( can't even handle losing the hold on her hand for a second. Can't even deal with the fact that she might be mad at him :(((( He is baby. Precious baby boy :(

YOUR BIT ABOUT THE TATTOO HAHA. I totally get you omg dfhjskdjfh WASTED TIME LMAO pleaaaseee. dfkjhsdf Idly chatting in bed is just gfjkddfhjgnj the cuddling..low voices and whispers :(( it makes me melt. It makes me so soft help. INTERESTINGGGG theory with Farlan hehe so I'm hearing a few for Erwin and then a couple for Farlan...very interesting...

FDGHDFJKGH I wanted to cry over the ladder part just bc.. :(( the first time reader was on the ladder and Levi helped her and now :(( SHE'S doing it for him AGH <333 THE CHORE OH MY GOD I'm on the verge of tears rn Chris, it's like you KNOW what I'm going for so well istg you're in my brain!!! ;;;;;;;;

THE NAILLLLLLLLLL IS MY FAAAVEEEEEEEEEEE <3 Just seeing a glimpse of a tiny lil shiny gem on his pinky when he's pulling out his phone or something SOBBINGGG. (I was dying to keep writing past the last line but I will save more for the upcoming chapters dhfjsjkghfkjg)

CHRIS. THANK YOU SO much for such thoughtful inputs and comments as always. THey always mean so much to me. I truly smiled so so much while reading it. Ilu ;; <33333 thank you for reading <3333

[a-non-ymouswriter]

Five Times Then One

Rewind Crossover Shot with Living In Circular

Living In Circular is an awesome DSMP looping fanfic that recently did a crossover with Rewind :D Yes I gave the author permission to use Rewind in their story and yes it is completely awesome. 

In honor of that awesome chapter, of course I had to write a shot for it involving Red (Aka, Looper Tommy) and Theo :)

It’s kind of a long one folks! 

TW: Language, Self-Loathing, Angst, Etc. Etc. 

it’s mostly hilarious, but the ending is very emotional.

Five Times Theo was Dragged Into Therapy + One Time He Wasn’t

First Time

You know, there was a lot of things that Theo hated now that he and Toby were in the present. His hate for those things varied and changed as time went by, but his latest subject to vehemently hate was himself.

And he wasn’t just being edgy, or anything like that but he really, definitely hated his alternate self.

His newest alternate self.

The damned Looper alternate self, or whatever they were. The ones who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and just interfered with everything.

Which was kind of ironic given Theo and Toby had done just that months ago when they first arrived. But at least they weren’t as fucking chaotic as the new group- and it’d just been him and Toby that came, then Ghostbur who was there because of time-fuckery but at least it was just the three of them!

Now there was a whole group of displaced time traveling (looping) assholes that were really getting on Theo’s nerve. It’s easier to get on his nerves now that his mind was so... quiet. 

But Red? Aka his dickhead alternate looper self? Oh, he was the worst of them all. 

“The fuck do you want now? What? Not enough that you gave me one hell of a black eye and locked me up with Toby to talk about feelings and all that crap? We’ve... done that already. Thank you.” There was little gratitude in his tone, more tired vitriol and annoyance. Theo makes a face at the memories of being locked in a room with Toby the room was too small the room was too small fuck fuck to talk (actually talk this time) about everything because their initial ‘talk’ was interrupted. 

It ended with less bruises than the last but Toby had an insufferable smile on his face now. 

Red had his arms crossed and he gave Theo a look, “Puf-White offered therapy, she’s pretty good at it y’know. Thousands of years of experience and all that.” 

Theo narrowed his eyes, “I’ve heard.” He replied dryly, “But no thanks. I’m good. She’s not gonna force me to take her offer.”

“Oh yeah, she won’t.” The smile on Red’s face was practically malicious and Theo immediately turned around and started running.

“But I will.”

Fuck.

Second Time

“I stand corrected last time, I absolutely fucking despise you.” Theo hissed at the physically teenage boy but mentally ancient mother fucker that had him hogtied and was currently carrying him in a princess-carry. Purposefully trying to humiliate him every step of the way. 

It’s not the carry that he’s hating, he could’ve been fine with that. It’s the fact that he’s covered in pink. Hot glittery pink. He was covered in hot pink glitter that would take ages to wash off. If ever, the little bastard might make him be glitter pink forever. 

Red snickered, “Oh calm your tits man, it’s not gonna stay forever- sure it’ll stain for a while and you’ll find glitter everywhere for a while but not forever... Wilbur and the others forbade me to make it last forever. Shame but this is all your fault y’know, you could’ve just gone to Puffy’s next session on time but nope, you tried to skip out.” He gives him an infuriating smirk, “Can’t have that now can we?”

Theo really hated him. He did. 

Third Time

“H-How exactly is he doing that?” Someone among the group asked, watching Red tug on... nothing but thin air. He was clearly just miming on pulling on something, a rope which was presumably tied around Theo who was struggling against it- but there was no rope. A few people checked, nothing there.

Silver, Looper Tubbo, chuckled, “He’s had an interesting variety of loops- this isn’t his strangest ability in his arsenal. He did say he was getting rusty on his miming tricks.” Red let out a silent cackle as he hauled a very loudly swearing Theo on a horse that didn’t exist and rode off towards White (Looper Puffy)’s Therapy Office.

“I’m frankly quite terrified but ultimately glad it’s not me in his place.” Toby admitted, watching him go- his own session wasn’t set for today, and unlike Theo, he actually went on his own so he was safe. 

Fourth Time

“I hate you, I fucking hate you so damn much.”

Red patted Theo’s cheek, “The feeling’s mutual bub. Feeling’s mutual.”

Fifth Time

“Tommy, I’m not really sure if you should keep forcing him in here.” Puffy admitted to him after the session. Theo had immediately left without another word. “Just because I said I wouldn’t force him to take my offer doesn’t really mean you should.”

Tommy rose a brow at her, “I thought you said you were making progress with him.”

The sheep hybrid sighed, “Minimal progress. He’s actually talked-”

“Then I don’t see the problem-”

“Let me finish Tommy. He HAS started talking, but not much. He asked for water or for maybe one of Niki’s cookies (which not really surprising, my wife’s cookies are amazing) but other than that? Nothing.”

The blond looper scowled, “So what, you want me to stop? To just let the guy continue to be a traumatized bastard? Just leave him be?”

“Not really- look, all I’m saying is that Theo is already... distant, to say the least, with us all. Forcing someone into therapy can both be helpful and not, sure he does need therapy and we’re trying that. I’m trying that, but you constantly forcing him isn’t helping him. And I don’t think your methods to get him here are helping that too.” Puffy pointed out dryly, remembering the angry silence as Theo wrung out his red hoodie, completely soaked from head to toe.

She laid a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “I know that you’re trying to help but you’re also angry with him Tommy. Which isn’t helping him, nor you.” She sighed, and gave him a pleading look. “At least stop humiliating him on the way here? He might get more comfortable around me if he isn’t so preoccupied by whatever you did and stewing in silence because of it.” 

Tommy didn’t look too pleased but begrudgingly nodded his head.

Not This Time

It feels like his head was going to explode.

Overloaded with thoughts that should’ve been held back the static kept him in check his head swirling with every thought being merciless to his focus and keeping distracted to the point of helplessness the static kept him focused his head was empty and yet so full.

Ever since that looping Callahan subdued the static and kept his enchantment from hurting him too much, his head...

Has never been calmer.

Paradoxically, it’s never been more chaotic.

Every thought he’s ever thought, everything he’s kept buried with the static floats into the front of his brain and he has no idea how to deal with it. 

Years worth of guilty thoughts, regrets and more keep appearing in his head. Not only that but everything seems so much louder than before. But muted too. 

It’s a confusing contradiction that has him reeling and he doesn’t know how much more he can take it. Every time he goes out, he feels like he’s being assaulted by just existing even though he’s doing nothing wrong he did everything wrong he fucked up so badly he deserves this punishment just standing there and his head threatens to crack open.

He can usually ignore it, carry on with his day what does he do now he was being useless what is wrong with him but lately it’s been getting harder and harder to ignore it all.

The static isn’t there to keep him grounded, he feels like he’ll end up flying off the ground. It isn’t there to keep him afloat, he’s going to end up sinking into the deep.

He should have said no, when Callahan subdued the static he needed it e-even if Dream said so he NEEDED it it’s so muted in his head and he has no idea what to do with the free space.

Theo has to let go of the static.

But he doesn’t want to.

Even with it muted, the absence and the less intense reaction of the static is throwing him off. 

He feels more tired than ever and on the verge of collapse.

Theo just wants everything to stop.

“You’re late to Puffy’s therapy session.”

“...”

Theo clutched his thighs, pressing them closer to his chest as he curled up even tighter against the tree trunk. He didn’t say anything to the blond god that stood not too far from him. 

He felt ridiculous. Here he was, curled up, hugging his fucking legs like a fucking child- as if it’d do anything to stop the more powerful better version of himself. Hell, he might as well be a child. He probably was compared to Red.

It’s almost funny.

Despite looking like an adult, Theo was a child, still a scared teenage fucking boy exiled from home. While before him stood an ancient old man, looking like a familiar teenage boy that Theo can only see in L’Manberg now. Two of them actually, but only one of them was Tommy Innit, a smiling teenager his own age.

Theo’s too tired to resist much this time.

The air was too much, or maybe it wasn’t enough because his lungs ached in his chest and it hurt to breathe. There was something in his eyes because they were wet and irritated. He was cold, even with his hoodie on, he was cold because he was shaking.

Everything was too loud. The wind, the cows, the rustling plants.

Everything was too quiet. The static, his voice, his own hearing.

He felt like he was going insane.

“...”

“...”

Theo doesn’t dare move from his spot, even as he hears the incoming footsteps. Dread and anticipation pool in his guts- there’s not enough room. He might heave and puke when he gets to Puf- to White’s office. He’ll clean it up maybe. 

Just what will happen now?

...

Nothing.

Theo doesn’t look up to see what’s going on, hearing and feeling someone sit a few spaces beside him on the ground. Red is suspiciously silent and it’s not helping the nausea that’s building in his throat. 

One minute passes.

Two.

Six.

Fourteen.

Twenty.

Fourty-five minutes.

“I just...” His tongue is heavy and bloated, soft but raspy and he’s struggling to speak, “want everything to stop.” 

“...” Red doesn’t reply. 

“I’m so tired.”

Silence.

“Please.”

“It’s not going to stop.” Red replies softly, for once, the hatred is not there as he sees the child underneath the mask. “And you’re always going to feel tired- but it’ll get better.”

“It does?” The child asks the old man.

The old man does not smile, “I swear, it does. It just takes time and effort.” He promises the young boy.

Theo is not fragile. Tommy isn’t. 

But everyone has their moments.

They stay there for the whole day.

[kadtie]

Sometimes being on Tumblr is just scrolling and having a good time.

Other times being on Tumblr is adding check marks to a long list of things I do or experience that are typically neurodivergent and going hmmm.

My spouse was not convinced a year ago when I suggested I might be autistic.

That is no longer the case. We are both fairly positive at this point.

I need to wear earplugs when we go to the movies. The theater is so much more enjoyable now that I figured that out.

Sometimes physical contact is just too much. Couldn't explain it before. Now it makes sense.

Sensory overload honestly explains so much about why I get irritable for "no reason" sometimes. Sitting in a quiet room with a soft blanket for a while fixes it every time.

Social cues. Sarcasm. Facial expressions. Hyper fixations. EYE CONTACT.

I got my ears pierced last year (for my 29th birthday) and I am SO GLAD that the place I went used a larger gauge needle because standard earrings are just so small and tiny and SHARP and I can't always find the exit hole which is freaky because that is inside my FLESH and my hand starts shaking and I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I either get it through or my vision starts doing weird things. The thicker ones just pop right through and they're done.

Textures are 90% of the reason why I don't like certain foods. Grapes do the exploding thing and I can't.

I cannot touch certain substances without being distressed. Chalk is the worst.

Spouse is constantly pointing out that I'm making weird or particular facial expressions and I have no idea what they are talking about? My face just does what my face does. I have no say.

Pretty sure my dad is autistic too. My niece was diagnosed last year and her mom (my sister) thinks she might be as well now that she has learned so much from seeing it in her own daughter.

Anyway. There is more, but I honestly didn't set out to list out my reasoning behind my discovery about myself. I just had another check mark moment because of some post or another and it's late and I should be sleeping but tired brain wanted to share.