#wake up this morning to his stupid ass game pop pop pop pop popping at like 8/9

[squid--inc]

....

[c1oudyxm4rs]

Fxck pretty, your gorgeous

COLLAGE UA

➳ tags ;; #bakugoukatsuki #BakugouxBlackreader #Bakugouxfemale #fluff #angest #Blackwriter #myheroacademia #mha #MxF #mha x black reader #bnha bakugou #anime oneshot #bakugouoneshot #bakugo fluff  #mha fluff

➳ wc ;; 893

➳ plot ;;  You and Bakugou have been best friends since you were both in kindergarten. You guys talked about everything and he was always one of your biggest supporters when it came to your music career because he knew it meant a lot to you. And you were his when it came to his football games, you always tried to make time when you could because you knew it made him more happy than he would ever let on. 

You both cared about each other but it would always be in a brother-and-sister manner up until recently. You had recently broken up with your ex, and you both were still on good terms and talked all the time. It wasn't until you guys were on Facetime that he changed your mind about something.

➳ a/n ;; This is my first time so any tips and any good advocate would be helpful, thanks

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“Girl you like him, just admit it. The way you all spend time together, the way you talk about him?? You like that boy” Da’von said, stuffing his face with food he had just bought.

“Da'Von no I don’t, me and Katsuki are just close that's it, it's not like I like him or anything. Plus he has a girlfriend.” You said taking off your makeup in the mirror.

“You and me know damn well, she is cheating on him. Plus I could quiz you and you would know every damn answer” He said side eying the camera. 

“No, I wouldn’t and don't say that about Crystal. I'm pretty sure she really likes him, and this is the happiest I have ever seen him.” You said wiping your face, then put your makeup wipes in the trash then put your tablet on your bed since the Facetime call was on there.

“The happiest I ever see him is with you, girl. With that crystal girl, he is only half happy trust me, now this quiz. How old is he?” 

“25”

“Favorite color?”

“Black is all he ever wears”

“Hip-Hop, R&B, Rap or Pop?”

“He listens to everything but mainly R&B”

“What is one thing he does that is related to you?”

“Skip his classes to come to mine if I'm in the building that day”

“And he doesn't like you? Girl you trippin.” Da’von said laughing 

“Even if, he has a girlfriend, Da'von, it wouldn't make any sense. You know he doesn't cheat.” You said lying down on your bed and opening your phone.

“It's not cheating if you like a person from a distance…” He said looking away from the camera

“Da’von”

“Sorry”

The rest of the call went on as normal, talking about people you didn't like, catching up with drama and then hanging up to go to bed. Did you really like him? At this point you didn't know, Da’von had really had really made you think but you put it off till the morning. 

When you wake up, clean yourself up, and get dressed by putting on some sweatpants, a black crop top, and a black jean jacket. You did some light makeup, did your edges, your braids into a ponytail then grabbed your stuff and left out your dorm. Your classes were pretty normal and boring since you had a morning schedule. After you finished up you went to your dorm for lunch to find Kat in your kitchen making noodles and had the TV on watching YouTube like he was your dorm mate. (P.S. He wasn't)

“What the hell are you doing in my dorm?” You ask about taking off your shoes and the door and shutting it behind you.

“Do you not see me making food, use your eyes before you ask stupid ass questions, mkay?” He replied with his normal sassy remark.

“Asshole”

“Whatever, you coming to my game tonight? Coach Evans said it might be the last of the season. I want you to go so you should…” He mumbled.

“Shit, the game is tonight? I can’t have an interview with Global. I can’t pass this up like my first official interview, my manager said it was hella important.”

“So is this game, you can't just slip in for at least 30 minutes to see me play?  Please. I never ask you for nothin’ and now all I'm asking for is this one little thing?.” He pleaded

“Katsuki you know better than anyone that this is a one-time opportunity, I don’t know when I'm gonna get an offer like this again. You know better than anyone that I wouldn’t miss this game on purpose come on, please. Just a reason to listen.” You begged trying to reason with him. You know you sounded shitty but it was such a big opportunity. He sighed and then clenched his fist.

“Kat please, I promise I will make it up to you. I swear.” You said taking his hand, but snatched his hand back and cursed to himself.

“Whatever, I don't care anymore. Do what you want” 

“And the food is for you…” He said grabbing his bag and leaving before you could even stop him. You felt like shit but this meant a lot to you, and if you had to hurt his feelings then so be it but you weren’t gonna let the chance slide.

You tried texting him on your way to your interview but he never answered and just left you on red, at this point you didn't know what the hell you were gonna do, he couldn't ignore you forever you knew you hurt him but you never thought it was that bad. You decided to leave it alone it seemed like the more you tried to justify your actions you sounded more like a damn jackass. You sighed to yourself and continued driving.

When you got there you were greeted kindly, the director told you and your manager Kimmy what was gonna take place during the interview, you were gonna answer the 30 most answered questions and then sing one song that was gonna come out on your next album. You were pretty nervous before everything started but once it did you felt pretty good about everything…but little did you know how bad everything was gonna go downhill.

To be continued....

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➳ a/n ; I hope you guys liked this, please be nice this is my first time writing something like this and English is not my first language. If you guys enjoyed this let me know if you want a part 2!

[neontoad]

“One soul in two bodies”, people often say about Double Black. Chuuya calls bullshit on that. It’s ridiculous. But then why every time Chuuya comes to work after tossing and turning in bed all night unable to fall asleep, he sees that Dazai has dark circles under eyes as well? Why every time when Chuuya checks his phone at 3am, insomnia eating him alive, he sees that Dazai is online, too? Why does it feel like there is one more person wide awake in the sleeping city when Chuuya’s staring at the ceiling, as wakeful as ever?

One night, a message pops up on his phone.

🐟: You awake?

“Fuck off,” Chuuya mumbles to himself and turns the screen off. The night is quiet. The air still seems to be vibrating after the notification chime. He counts seconds.

Nothing disturbs the silence anymore.

The next day Dazai keeps yawning and stealing glances at Chuuya as they sit in another boring meeting. He ignores him, even though every time Dazai covers his mouth with his hand, Chuuya can’t help but yawn too.

He sleeps well that night. He knows Dazai does, too - he can tell by how stupidly annoying he is the next day. Chuuya knows well that only well-rested Dazai possesses such a ridiculous ability to get on Chuuya’s nerves in record time. He sleeps okay again. And again. And again. Chuuya even starts thinking that maybe he’s finally out of that cursed bout of insomnia. Seems like Dazai managed to get some sleep, too.

Until another night comes.

He’s exhausted - they have just finished a mission, the last one in a strenuous sequence, and the only thing Chuuya wants is to sleep until next week.

He can’t.

His phone chimes.

He doesn’t bother looking - he knows who’s texting him. Dazai’s insomnia is not his problem.

He lies with his eyes closed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to trick his brain into finally shutting down and letting him fall into Morpheus’ embrace, giving him the rest he so desperately needs. He doesn’t know how much time passes until he hears a knock.

“The fuck you want?” Chuuya grumbles, looking at Dazai miserably standing in the hallway of his apartment building.

“Just checking on my dear partner.”

“It’s 4 in the morning.”

“You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“I was sleeping, you bastard.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Dazai yawns and Chuuya follows suit, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck this, he thinks. I’ll let him be. Without saying a word, he turns on his heel and marches to the kitchen. Dazai follows him and plops on the stool. He probably thinks he looks smug. He looks like shit.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he croaks and smiles.

“Fuck off,” Chuuya says, pouring Dazai three fingers and sliding it across the table before stopping in front of his wine cabinet. That’ll do, he thinks and pours himself a glass of red.

“You know, chibi,” Dazai muses, watching the ice in his glass bob up and down, “I blame you.”

Chuuya takes a sip of wine. He wonders if he looks as stern as he hopes he is. Or does he, akin to Dazai, resemble a miserable stray dog? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

“Whenever you can’t sleep, neither can I,” he continues. “It’s like we have some kind of invisible bond.”

Despite his fatigue, Chuuya can’t help but chuckle. Invisible bond! Dazai sure loves these stupid pretentious speeches. What an emo.

He downs his wine and goes to the living room. “Take your ass with your invisible bond to the couch,” he commands. “Let’s play.”

“It’s not a laughing matter!” Dazai whines but obeys, finishing his whiskey and leaving the cup on the table like the ungrateful pig he is.

Whiskey made him feel warm and fuzzy, making the unwelcoming sleepless night feel slightly less dire. Besides, playing video games with the slug is certainly a better pastime than tossing and turning on his old mattress. They play for a few hours, sleepiness going away as they keep beating each other in a video game, pushing each other with their shoulders and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Chuuya doesn’t care about his neighbours complaining - there’s no one living above him anymore, anyway.

The dark night gives way to the pale morning, timid rays of sun sneaking through the closed blinds. A ray falls on the empty whiskey cup, the last drops of the amber liquid shining like gold under the light. Another one shines on the shattered controller lying in the corner. Another ray of sun caresses the leaves of a half-dead plant on the bookshelf. Another - the picture on the wall, the five people on it forgotten by all but one. Another - the cobweb on the ceiling. Another - the brass door handle. As more time passes, the sun gets more comfortable dancing in the small apartment, its rays travelling across the walls, trinkets and furniture until they reach the boys sprawled on the couch.

Their breath is even, chests rising and falling in unison. Chuuya’s head is resting on Dazai’s lap, his hand against his chest still holding the beaten controller. He squirms when the sun shamelessly goes across his eyes but doesn’t wake up.

Neither does Dazai. He just smiles through his sleep and puts his hand on Chuuya’s back. The rays of sun stall before continuing to move across the room as if taking in the unusual, eerily peaceful atmosphere in the living room, the raging fire turned into quiet embers for a bit.

Chuuya might call bullshit on the “one soul in two bodies” idea.

But… the sun surely knows better.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 18/?

***

Hands down.

Hands fucking down,

Billy Hargrove has never been so horny, in all of the years since puberty hit him. Like a train. It didn't hit him gently. Does it ever though?

Anyways.

On the verge of turning 18, frequent involuntary erections and wet dreams are making a surprise comeback to his everyday life. Like he needs them back, right the fuck now.

It's as if he's a 12-year old again, examining his pimply chin in front of the mirror. Waking up to a shameful wet spot in his underwear after having yet another arousing sex dream.

Billy's already had such dreams about Harrington, it's not like he's gonna

Oh my god!

freak out about the fact itself, but if he thought they happened often, haha. Look at him now, after he actually

physically

touched King Steve's smooth dick.

Billy's right palm remembers the feeling of its silky texture, remembers how the hot cum erupted over the fingers

He can still chase it.

The dreams vary in their depravity. Some are just a faint whisper, a brush of a hand, or of lips. Sometimes they are bolder, Billy's gripping Harrington's cock in his pants, over and over again, making the pretty boy writhe and gasp under his brazen touch. At times Billy gets lucky to watch especially explicit night fantasies, way better than any porn he's ever seen or imagined,

Turning him into a glob of sweet sweet honey, sticky and fuzzy and not wanting to get out of bed in the morning.

Harrington is living rent free in all of these dreams. No-one else. Not even a single gorgeous playboy babe makes a five-second appearance.

Motherfucker.

And alright, while spilling cum on your sheet is not a big deal, trying to hide your erect dick in public? That's a bit tricky.

Cause Billy is not a 12-year old with a small pecker anymore.

And don't even start Hargrove on goddamn basketball practices. It's been absolute torment for the last couple of weeks. Even though accidental - very often intentional - touches, pushes and collisions with Steve provide new food for Billy's horned up imagination, it's embarrassing and plain suspicious how many times he has to leave the gym for a sudden break. The fucking tiny shorts aren't helping him at all. They don't offer much of a disguise, fucking none.

Damn frigging shorts. At least when he's fully dressed, covering up his hard-on is not such a big problem.

One time Billy ended up poking the Hawkins Tigers' ex-captain with his upright cock, right there on the basketball court, in the middle of the game. Harrington didn't say a word, he just fucking looked at Billy funny and licked his lips

Why did he lick 'em

Hargrove had to run off to the locker room, smashing the doors on the way out with such force they almost flew off their hinges

Just like Billy.

He is off.

Other guys must've seen it, the tent in his shorts. Fucking stupid.

So puberty seems to be making a very unnecessary intrusion into his life, and Billy is taken hostage.

It’s as though he’s been slammed by a freight train again, only now he’s not just smeared all over the rails, but is being choo-chooed along, counting every railway tie with his hard insufferable dick

That pops up like a jack-in-the-box, at any time around the clock, and in most unfitting places and situations, whenever and wherever it fucking feels like it.

On Sunday morning Billy's washing the dishes after breakfast, with Susan fussing around in the kitchen, Max still sleepily sipping her cocoa at the table and Neil reading his morning newspaper, and

He is getting a mega-fucking-ass boner, doing goddamn dishes, in this good-morning-respectable-family-paradise, dick pushing into the edge of the sink, straining his sweatpants, it's fucking uncomfortable and awkward, and it's as if his stupid cock is completely out of control. Like it has a life of its own. Or, more like, a part of Billy's brain and his dick have this special connection, which Billy is totally left out of. It only takes a blink of memories from those heated five minutes in the backseat of Steve's car - Harrington's Adam's apple bobbing in front of Billy's eyes under that white-thin, insanely delicate skin and yeah .. it's enough for

Weigh anchor, hoist the sails!

Fuck this shit times a million.

Hargrove almost breaks the plate he's holding, in half.

Good thing, the sink is still full, the dick can calm itself down. Hopefully. Otherwise, Billy wil have to come up with a way to retreat to his room not dangling this thing around in front of everyone.

He'll have to fucking moonwalk backwards. Dear family is gonna be too perplexed to notice the protruding situation in his sweatpants, and it'll lead to the much needed distraction.

That's all it takes these last February days - a fleeting memory, and Hargrove's getting a raging hard-on.

Feels like a curse.

Also, it's not like he's in charge of his thoughts as well. They run free and wild, various images or recollections of smells or sounds - all connected with the preppy sweater-wearing piece of Indiana cowshit - spring to mind, and there goes Billy's tireless dick again. Up and defiant. Hurting but relentless.

No-one can tell it what to do. It does what it wants.

Billy can't fucking function like that !!

Hargrove keeps circling that sponge, and glancing sideways at the phone on the kitchen wall

He could uh .. just

FUCKING CALL HIM

Just like it says in the note.

"Harrington residence."

"Hey, shithead."

"Hargrove ..?"

"No, it's your mom, dumbass."

Harrington will chuckle in the receiver and say, light and breezy

"So .. whatcha doing?"

Thinking of you

"Nothing much."

Oh yeah? .. What exactly are you thinking about?

"My parents aren't home. Wanna drop by? We could .. drink a couple of beers maybe?"

Sounds good

Perfect

"Sure."

No. Billy, NO.

He is not going to call Harrington.

Why not, you might ask? Make it happen already, whatever it is. Steve has slipped his number in his pocket fucking twice.

Nope. He's not gonna call.

Cause it's weak.

And, if you still haven't figured it out, Billy Hargrove is anything

but weak. Secondly, he just doesn't want to give Harrington the satisfaction in this particular case.

Billy recalls the expression on Steve's face while he was coming down from the high of nutting into Hargrove's fist in the beamer.

Steve was royalty, having collected tribute from his liegeman.

Billy's not calling the arrogant prick, period. He's not gonna feed the asshole's pride.

He doesn't want to seem needy for the king's favour.

Because he's not.

And like .. Hargrove doesn't mind making his hands work. He can give himself a quickie in bed, or in the shower, or .. in the fucking locker room, where one day he burst into during another basketball game, hot and angry and achingly hard, his balls about to explode right there on the court, causing his sperm to splatter all over Harrington's pale hairy legs

So fucking annoying

Oh, Billy was furious then.

The helplessness. Like, what ?? What on earth should he do? Go see a doctor? Please help me manage my erections at almost fucking 18 ?? Cut off his stupid dumb penis that keeps embarrassing him?

He had to jack off right there in the empty locker room, it was bordering on impossible to go on with the day otherwise. It only took a couple of minutes, so.

Billy wants to see what's underneath those tight dark green shorts, and not just take a peek, like in the showers, no, he wants to see everything and take his time watching

Take them off, Harrington. Or better yet, let me .. slide them down, show me what you are packing

In broad daylight, he wants to look long and hard, take it all in, the size, the details, the colour .. compare it with the image he has created in his head after all those feverish night dreams

Why? Why is he so fixated on seeing Harrington's dick?

Stop asking stupid questions, alright?

Billy doesn't have answers to any of them. If someone could explain it to him, he'd gladly listen.

Fuck off, just leave him alone.

See, what's even worse, it's not only the physical aspect of feeling like he's in puberty again. Billy starts getting angry and even more aggressive than he usually is. He's always cursing, he's always banging something loud, barking or plain yelling mad at Max for no good reason, and he absolutely needs to find more powerful speakers to put in his car.

There's no adequate outlet for his pent-up frustration. The days when a push and a couple of harsh words seemed sufficient, are over. Shoving Harrington around has stopped providing the relief. It's simply not enough, and only razzes Billy even more.

People in school hallways are steering clear of him, especially after that episode when he violently bulldozed some junior through a wall for bumping into Hargrove on pure accident.

The guy has probably developed a stutter after.

Sometimes Billy turns into a complete nutcase and starts feeling disgustingly emotional, sad or even fucking depressed.

He's never been a ray of sunshine, neither has he ever looked at this world through rose-coloured glasses, this is true, but it's just that everything seems to be hellishly getting out of hand lately.

This feeling is new and unwelcome. The only thing that he always had a grip on in this world - himself - is spinning out of control.

It's revolting.

Billy can't stand hovering over a ridge like that. He needs sustainability, he has always found support in himself - because where else? All these years - since she left him - he's been his own rock. His friends and the ocean were there for him back in San Diego, but here, in this fucking Hawkins he has no one at all, and therefore all this confusingly loud hullabaloo in his head, the mood swings and the constantly erect dick in his pants - all these things can go fuck themselves

Deep in the ass.

!!

Honestly.

Four months till the beginning of July.

Billy turns the water off, wipes the kitchen counter. The cock has cooled itself down a bit, and while he was getting lost in thoughts, the precious family seems to have left the kitchen. Billy doesn't have to moonwalk back to his room hiding his erection.

Well, at least a grain of good news amid the disaster.

***

It's a usual break between periods, and Billy's passing Steve in the hallway.

Heart is springing up to his throat, beating somewhere right in there, not letting him breathe evenly

Look at me, look at me, look at me

Steve doesn't.

Mood swings, yeah? Here you go. Billy's feeling disappointed and .. fucking saddened ?? Because of this crap?

Owie .. he didn't notice me, life's in shambles. Call fucking emergency services, maybe they'll know what to do.

Hargrove wants Harrington to always look at him.

To be fair, the pretty boy is busy having some lovers' quarrel with the red-haired girl, Nicole. She's still unhappy about Valentine's Day, she sure didn't expect to see drunk King Steve shamelessly flirt with other girls. Namely, with that ugly bitch Tammy Thompson, who's always eyeing him in classes and her boobs are always about to fall out of her blouse. Slut.

Steve's trying to laugh it off, Nicole's not laughing.

D-rama !!

"Hi, Billy."

A sweet kiss is planted on the corner of his lips, and Jennifer attaches herself to Hargrove's arm on the way to class. She is still acting like she's his girlfriend.

Why shouldn't she. She doesn't know.

Pecking his brain about useless things. Telling him how some junior hit on her after Billy had ditched the party on Valentine's. Jennifer's even telling him his name - Troy or something, she's trying so hard to make him jealous

Sweetheart. Save the effort. There's like .. nothing stirring inside.

It's lunch break now, and the only thing that's stirring, is Hargrove's dick in his jeans cause Harrington looks so good today. There he is, picking at his food, smiling at Tommy, laid-back. All easy-breezy, the confident fucking arrogant curve of lips. He looks good every day, the dickwad. Almost every day a new outfit, how many fucking sweaters and shirts and dumb polos does he own?

Billy's got a sudden itch to set all of Steve's clothes on fire.

Also, Harrington looked sexy today when he was writing something in the previous class they shared. Staring at the blackboard all pensive and shit. Like he actually understood what the teacher was talking about. Like he was interested. Yeah, right. He got a C- for his last test in Literature. His daddy's definitely gonna pay his way through college, no need to worry that pretty little head about stuff like that.

Billy hates him for looking so attractive. So worry-free. Self-entitled. Like life's at his service, and he's just taking it for what it is - for granted.

So when Jennifer is droning on about some shit Hargrove even remotely pays no attention to,

He's like god I'm so sick and tired of it all, jesus.

Nevertheless, Billy has to keep up lame appearances.

"That him?" He asks the girl who believes they're dating.

She has no idea what's going on inside his brain, who and what he sees when the nights come.

"Yeah, that's him. Oh, Billy, no, what are you ..?"

Hargrove leaves the table he's sitting at, comes up to the dude, pats his shoulder. Leaves his hand there, presses down a bit, leaning on the guy, arm as heavy as an iron beam, weighing a ton

Looming over him like a thundercloud

"Heard you've been hitting on that girl over there?"

The guy is fearfully shaking his head

Dude's a pussy. Should've told Billy

"Yeah if you're not fucking her on valentine's, someone should do you both a favour."

Should've started a scene, a fight.

Instead, he's just sitting there, hunching his shoulders and pulling in his neck like a small defenseless turtle.

Billy sees a teacher, monitoring the lunch hall, looking at them with a question in her eyes.

Alright.

"Keep your hands to yourself, buddy. You know. To avoid uhm .."

Billy makes a little pause for a bigger dramatic effect

".. injuries."

Smiles all friendly. Like he means the dude no harm whatsoever.

The what's-his-name looks relieved he did avoid the promised injuries this time, and

Jennifer is delighted. She is the queen of Hawkins High. She is the reason Billy Hargrove almost started a brawl with another boy right now, in front of every student. Looked so big, so hot, doing it. Vicky can stuff her prom dress down her throat. There she is, totally, devastatingly jealous, ready to burst into tears or throw hands at Jennifer once again. She is still not over Hargrove, but it's Jennifer who will be going to prom with him. She'll be prom Queen, proudly wear the crown, frame the picture and put it on the wall. Probably tell their kids how mommy and daddy danced at prom and looked fantastic doing it.

Oh girls girls girls, why is that you fall so easily for someone who doesn't give a fuck about you. What is your problem. Can't you like the good ones, the ones who are going to stick around. When are you going to understand that ninety-nine per cent of all times that piece of hot badass means inevitable heartbreak?

Billy thinks that he needs to take Jennifer out or something, to maintain the reputation, but

He's so over this shit.

Come March, he'll be breaking up with her.

He's catching that sweet junior Alison's stare and throws her a smile, just in case, for possible future purposes. Jennifer is too busy gloating to notice it.

Billy's not even sure what he's doing anymore. Like, there are chicks, that have stopped attracting him fucking collectively and individually, and there is Harrington, that's been stuck like a bone in Billy's throat since day one, but especially lately.

Billy wasn't planning on touching anyone's dick in fucking Hawkins, Indiana.

Most importantly, Billy still definitely doesn't need any kind of attachment.

Don't forget about that, Hargrove.

Soon it's gonna be the time to call it quits with the Hawkins girls, and with its idiot king. It'll be the time to get out of this swamp.

Only four months left.

You've already made it through six. It's gonna be okay.

Maybe it's more reasonable to leave this place the moment he gets the high school diploma, not wait till July. Billy will be 18 already. He can pack everything in advance, put it in the car, stop by the school to pick up the documents and then just drive west straight from there, not even going back to Cherry Lane.

Aren't you even gonna say goodbye to your father who raised you?

Sure, he wants to work his ass off in June, probably find another part-time job, save up as much as he can, but won't it be more sensible to just get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, nevermind the extra cash?

It's something to consider.

***

Okay, listen up, kids, Hargrove is not in charge of his

A) penis

B) thoughts

C) mood

??

All answers are correct (mind it, the option under D) feelings has been deleted from the original list)

But what irritates Billy most, makes him extra boiling mad is that the moment he gets some sort of a grip on the situation, and he's like alright, just need to fucking take it day by day, screw it all, especially everything that's Harrington-related, and he might still be reeling, but at least he understands what's happening and has it in check

At this very fucking moment Steve resurfaces and reminds Billy about himself, and it pulls the surf board from under his feet. He's back to zero again, having lost control once more

Just wanting to commit a fucking crime. Breaking and entering, burn the rich-ass dude's clothes, key his car, poison his current girlfriend

Hargrove would never key the beamer. He spent too much time making it look perfect.

Like right the fuck now, when Billy's just standing in the parking lot, thighs on his baby's hood, finishing his morning smoke in peace, minding his business, a minute till the first period, and

Bam!

He gets a snowball in the back.

The fuck!??

He turns around - there's just Harrington in the almost empty lot, grinning like a dumbass and a new girl by his side hiding a giggle - Sammy, Tammy ..?

Playing fucking games? What grade are you in? Planting notes, throwing frigging snowballs?

Okay shithead.

Billy looks as if he's not bothered, like he's ignoring the asshole, but his eyes are already looking for patches of snow, still lying around - it's the beginning of spring, February has no choice but to slowly start stepping away, taking all winter paraphernalia with it. He's planning revenge, but unfortunately, upon starting to walk towards the school, slips on the ice and lands on his ass.

Motherfucker!

During all three months of winter Hargrove managed to stay on his feet somehow, but at the fucking end of February he absolutely has to fall down, in front of Harrington, of course.

There's a very distinct Hahaaha that he hears behind his back

You goddamn son of a bitch

Billy quickly jumps to his feet, ducks down, and while Steve's still laughing with the girl, a massive snowball hits the king in the fucking ear. Good shot. He's not looking so playful anymore, he looks really hurt. Hargrove seldom misses, and he strikes hard.

You asked for it, Indiana.

Hargrove flips Steve off for good measure and keeps walking to school, honour defended, dignity restored.

Kinda.

Stop fucking fucking with me.

***

At the beginning of March seniors' yearbook pictures are being taken in Hawkins High. Well, they were already taken in the fall, was it October? .. but some kids were sick or absent, so it's the last call for those who haven't had it done. The yearbook layout is almost ready and in April or May it's supposed to be printed out.

Billy doesn't give a fuck. He skipped the first photo session and

How many dollars should he spend on the stupid book?

He's not getting himself one here, in the lamest school of all. He doesn't know half of these people, and he doesn't really care about anyone in particular, even the basketball team, Hawkins Losers, makes him only want to forget about its existence. Back in San Diego it wouldn't even be a question, but here?

What the fuck for?

Billy still goes to the photo shoot this time though. He wants to skip Spanish, and also

Because Harrington is there too, hanging around the entrance to the school drama hall, that's where it'll be held. King Steve actually had his picture taken the first time, in October, but

Oh, you need to hear this one -

The bitch didn't like it.

So he's actually asking for his photo to be retaken now. Jesus Christ. Since Byers aka Harrington's ex-girlfriend's current boyfriend, is responsible for today's event, the King

slash

Fastidious Queen

Is going to get another chance.

There are some other seniors in the hall as well, no-one's in a hurry, no-one's eager to get back to class early, so they take their time, girls brushing their hair in front of the mirror and applying lipstick, guys just fooling around. King Steve gets an extra couple of shots, just in case, to make him happy. The faces Harrington makes when he's being photographed are to die for, Billy wants to roll on the floor with laughter.

When the period and the photo thing finish, the kids are on their way out of the hall, and it just so happens that Harrington and Hargrove are the last ones to actually walk out of the door. The responsible Byers is in a hurry to take the school photo camera back to the photo lab. Steve's not feeling bad about breaking Jonathan's camera in September, monsters or no monsters, the dude still shouldn't have taken pictures of him and his friends, hiding and watching them from the woods. Steve apologized for saying some nasty stuff about his family in the heat of the fight, but that's as far as the apologies will go. It's a bit weird to have Byers take pictures of him, given their history, if he remembers it right, back in the fall the shoot was done by someone else but, honestly, it feels like so much stuff has happened after that, it's all water under the bridge.

The boys look at each other before leaving the hall, stalling. Steve's lips curl in a mischievous smile and Hargrove's eyes mirror it with the similar naughty twinkle

Steve takes Billy's hand.

And it's like everything around him disappears for a split second.

The warmth of it.

What the fuck, why the fuck

Helplessness.

Billy's blood knows the route, flowing fast.

With some brain cells still functioning. Hargrove peeks out of the hall, everyone is minding their own business, in a hurry to get to the bathroom, to a locker, to the next class. Byers is gone.

Hargrove closes the door. Steve's hasn't let go of his hand

Making the electricity run through his body.

Billy glances down at their hands, then up at Harrington's pretty face again, the dude is devouring him - Hargrove can't be imagining that, it's real - with his big beautiful fucking deer eyes, lips slightly parted

Inviting.

Luring.

They understand each other without a single spoken word

Billy almost knocks Steve down with a kiss, there's so much uncontrollable force

How many times have they kissed already? It feels like it’s so new, like they've never done it before.

Harrington is dragging Billy behind the stage, they climb up the small staircase there

Holding each other.

Billy's hands are clutching onto Steve's clothes, Harrington is gripping the other boy's back of the neck with one hand and tugging his jeans jacket with the other

They are behind the curtain. It smells funny here, of dust and paint, fear of public speaking, forgotten lines and improvisation.

Fear and improvisation - that can actually be applied to what the boys are doing right now.

Harrington's ass ends up being slammed against some kind of a table.

They are kissing, kissing, kissing, fuck, why does Billy want to kiss this idiot so much, he’s ready to suck his lips for a whole hour, play catch with their tongues

Running wild

And touch, touch, touch

Steve's shoulders, his arms, back, chest, belly ..

Everything, everything, all of his lean body, Billy's hands are not big enough

What would it feel like if they were naked now?

Harrington isn't so shy either, he is groping Billy everywhere, his hands go down to his ass, he fucking kneads his ass so much it hurts

Fuck.

Billy is so turned on, he wants to fucking weep because he can't cope

With the heat. With the lust. With the need.

He goes for Steve's fly, pops the button, opens it, his fingers fucking trembling

Like of a junkie.

He can actually .. he's been dying to see Harrington's dick like that, in day light

Oh god god god is it happening

He pulls the pants down together with the underwear, and Steve's cock springs up in all its splendor

Red, swollen, meaty

Big. The head is purplish and shiny, with a little pool of precum in its tip

It feels like a reflex already, Billy's hand moving to grab it.

But before, he slides his palm over the dark pubic hair

It's so coarse. Harrington's got a full fucking bush down there, and Billy wants to find himself lying in bed together with Steve, stroke his groin, teasingly, wrapping rings of wiry hair on his index finger.

Hargrove's hand on the lower belly makes the other boy moan and Billy mutters

"Shut up, Harrington. Or someone will hear us."

Steve looks like he doesn't care, but of course he does. They don't want to get caught. They can't.

Billy runs his fingers up the cock. Steve hisses

Hargrove doesn't want to appear too gentle, that's why he stops with the caressing and takes the dick in his palm, just like he's been dreaming of

Fucking velvet, fucking tender, skin like the softest down

And flesh stiff as a rock.

Billy's gone. He is so completely gone on the sensations.

Why has he never felt like that before? Like a live wire.

For a fraction of a second he considers ditching Steve, leaving him here with his dick out in the open because

Don't do it don't do it don't do it

Is at the back of his mind.

You can't handle this.

Of course he doesn't listen to reason. Not this time. Not when King Steve is whining so sweetly under his touch

"I told you to shut up, or you'll get us in trouble."

Steve's rasping out

"You shut up. Come on, make me cum."

Excuse me?

That rubs Billy the wrong way and he scoffs because

The royal fucking attitude.

He's not gonna put up with it.

"Make me cum too, asshole," - with a mean chuckle.

Harrington is looking at him in disbelief, like how dares he, but Billy is letting go of his erect dick and Steve says quickly

"Okay. Let's make each other cum."

Hargrove's waiting. The king doesn't seem to be catching on.

"Unzip."

There's a flash of something dark in the pretty boy's brown eyes like he isn't used to being told what to do.

"Fuck you."

Yet, he obeys.

Hargrove's dick falls heavily out of the black boxers and

Steve's hesitating. Looking.

Billy can wait again. He's not moving his hand up and down the other boy's cock, he's not gonna do it unless ..

Harrington takes him, cautiously, clumsily.

Tentatively.

Billy's gonna pass out right this second.

Fuck .. fuck, it looks so fucking hot, Steve's fingers wrapped around his dick.

Billy is trying to memorize every little detail of what's going on here, for later.

It drives Billy fucking wild. The sight of them holding each other by the dicks turns him savage

Like he wants to .. he wants to

Eat Harrington alive.

They start jerking each other off, copying each other's pace, gradually falling into the same rhythm, slower strokes becoming faster.

Eyes darting between faces and dicks, searching for some confirmation that what each one is doing here, is good, feels good.

Feels amazing.

Harrington's cock is cut clean and neat

Billy's uncut, and the feeling is so different. Steve doesn't have all the extra skin to be worked with, but Billy does, and

Hargrove doesn't understand why but it makes it even more exciting, the difference.

In all of the commotion Billy's right hand falls from Steve's back on the table and

It's touching an object

Billy absentmindedly pulls it from behind Steve ready to throw it on the floor so it doesn't get in the way

It's a crown. A fucking papier-mache fake crown made for a performance

Billy doesn't toss it on the floor, he's grinning at Harrington instead, trying to put it on his head

"A crown for your majesty."

It's getting knocked out of Hargrove's hand

"Jesus, you are so dumb."

"No, you're fucking dumb."

Both boys are snickering like complete idiots.

They go on pumping their hard cocks.

Harrington's slit is gushing precome.

A couple of times Billy breaks the rhythm and gives attention to the head of Steve's dick, using that slow twisting motion, spreading all the moisture with his thumb

It makes the pretty boy close his eyes and bite his lower lip

"Nuuugh .."

"Shuuuudup."

He looks so fucking hot.

And like .. Billy wants to say something, how much he likes it, how sexy Steve looks, but

They have to keep quiet not to get caught.

It's unlikely someone's gonna come to the hall now, and especially backstage, still, you never know.

Also, Hargrove is not gonna be the talkative bitch who can't contain his excitement

So Billy keeps everything that he wants to say to himself, only occasional gasps and suppressed moans escaping their lips. Something tells him, in other circumstances Harrington would be much much louder.

Billy can hear Harrington's breath hitching and he starts thrusting his hips erratically

He's close.

Billy is close too.

***

When they are finished, there's this moment again, when you're coming down from the high and you still have to look at each other and .. talk?

Like .. it's awkward as balls.

Speaking of. He has seen the imperial scepter, but he hasn't seen the crown jewels. He'd certainly like to take a peek. They might be fun to play with

Fffffuck

He just had an orgasm. Sex thoughts, fucking already ??

They both take their hands off of each other,

Steve's fingers linger on Billy's t-shirt, crumpling it

Wha ..

"The fuck you're doing?"

"Well, I can't wipe it on my sweater. It costs like .. a lot."

Fucking asshole!

"Your t-shirt's easier to wash."

They've got sperm all over their clothes.

What a despicable douche. Billy crowds Harrington against the table again and pointedly slides his hand, covered in cum, over the expensive fabric

"The fuck you did that for?"

"Just wiping off your mess, assface."

That's the pillow talk, that's it, that's how you do it in the town of Hawkins.

The assface in question is pouting

He slightly pushes Hargrove away, zips up and Billy does the same.

"I don't want to get to class."

Yeah, back to reality.

The pictures were taken during Foreign Language - the teachers have been notified, that certain students are going to be absent from class. Hargrove takes Spanish. Harrington takes French. Would be funny to actually see the jerk speak French

Bonjour, crétin

The boys yielding to the urge to touch each other's dicks led to their skipping more than half of History class. There's no point in going there now, so it'll be great if they manage to make it to their cars without running into a teacher.

"Let's try and get out of here."

When they carefully go out of the school hall and start moving towards the exit, already thinking they are in the clear

Too soon.

"Mr. Hargrove! Mr. Harrington! Why aren't you in class?"

Shit.

That's Mrs. Donovan, the vice principal.

"We uh .."

Apparently, cumming so hard has left Billy's brain empty and unable to produce any kind of a viable excuse

Harrington seems to have the same problem because he's coming up with the genius

"I uh .. I had to use the bathroom."

"And Mr. Hargrove was helping you?"

"Uh .. we're actually .. no. We got sidetracked."

What ??

Mrs. Donovan decides not to delve into the idiocy.

"I believe you should be in History right now."

"And we are on our way to class, Mrs. Donovan." Billy pipes up.

The vice principal is watching them walk to the classroom. To the door.

Jesus.

Their History teacher is not happy to see them crash her lesson in the middle of it.

Hagan is looking at them all strange. Damn it. They should probably agree on a sensible lie, not to get him all suspicious and shit.

When the period is finished, Mrs. Jenkins calls the slackers' names and expresses her dissatisfaction with their behaviour

The boys are standing there trying to look remorseful as fuck.

It doesn't help.

Mrs. Jenkins is a tough nut to crack. She's close to a hundred, so biologically immune to Hargrove's charm. And he can't woo her intellectually cause that's not the case right now.

Billy's not even trying anything, he knows it's hopeless. She's also super strange about students skipping her lessons, she takes it like a deep personal offence.

"I will accompany you to your detention, young men. Right now. And I will also be the one monitoring you today. Please. After you."

Detention .. ??

Fuck.

"Mrs. Jenkins, is that really necessary .."

"You do the crime, you do the punishment. Be thankful I am not going to call your parents to let them know about your lack of discipline."

"Can I at least let my .."

"No you cannot, Mr. Hargrove."

Old bitch.

Billy knows, he's not there to pick Max up equals problems with Neil. If only he could warn her to wait for him at school, hang out at her AV club or something.

The witch Jenkins said no, and he's not gonna beg.

***

I did google the percentage of circumcised/uncircumcised males in the states of Indiana and California in the 1970s-1980s. The rate of circumcised males in Indiana was very high, while California was literally at the bottom of the US states list

[viceroywrites]

reunions and opportunities - chapter ten

gary x fem!reader

both of you didn't get the ideal high school experience it would make sense that you both would be dreading the reunion.

little did you know how many doors would open after that.

ao3 version here - chapters on tumblr are slightly rewritten and restructured.

content warning: fic contains smut in later chapters. discussions of mental health including trauma and potential ptsd (aka gary is traumatized).

chapter ten

After a rather eventful evening, deep slumber hit Gary and you like a truck, both of you passing out shortly after a much needed cuddle session, forgetting to set your alarms for the busy days you had ahead.

You both awoke to the sound of the Game of Thrones theme song blaring from Gary’s phone, a ringtone he had set specifically for the Monarch. You tossed around for a bit before letting out a soft whine, lightly tapping the henchman’s broad shoulder, “Babe, your phone…” Groggily, the buff henchman fumbled around in the sheets, searching blindly before fishing it out from underneath the pillow.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice husky and deeper than usual.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. Do you know what time it is?” The Monarch’s dry, nasally tone replies back.

Gary blinks at his boss’ question, rubbing the sleep out of his heavy-lidded eyes as he pulls his phone away from his ear to check. His pupils quickly adjust to the light and widen at the sight of it being almost noon.

“Oh my god! Babe, wake up - you’re late!” The henchman sits up in bed, shaking your shoulders gently as you had almost fallen back asleep. You fumble for your own phone, gasping as you see the time and a series of texts from Sheila asking if you were okay. Instantly, you roll out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to get ready.

As the bathroom door shuts behind you, the Monarch stifles a chuckle, “Babe? Really?” Gary groans at his boss’ teasing, pulling on the jeans that he wore the previous evening. “Sorry, we can’t all be creative like you with your bajillion pet names for your wife.”

The light-hearted tone shifts as Malcolm mentions that his encounter with Red Death did not go as planned this morning. “Oh dude, it couldn’t have been that bad.” Gary mutters, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the bathroom door as he hears the creak of your shower knob turning the flow of water off.

“I swear he could have killed me right on the spot just with his voice and stare, 21. Though can you believe he knows my work? I mean come on, this is the Red Death we’re talking about.” The Monarch remarks before cutting the conversation short, “Anyways, time to get to work, lover boy. Get your ass back here ASAP, we’re going to have to come up with a Plan B.”

Gary swallowed the lump in his throat, reality settling in that he’s back to his role as Kano. “R-Right.” You stepped out of the bathroom right on cue as the heavy conversation wrapped up, already dressed in your Guild uniform as you toweled off your damp hair. 

“Put the phone on speaker, 21.” Gary’s eyebrow quirked at the Monarch’s command, obeying his leader’s wishes. Your head tilts in confusion and Gary can only respond with a confused shrug himself.

“Hey, [Your Name], take your time, I texted my wife that you two lovebirds slept in and according to her, all you missed was another stupid Guild meeting.” Both you and Gary blinked at each other in surprise at the Monarch’s kind gesture.

“Thank you!” You chimed in and the Monarch chuckled in response, “No, no, it’s the least I could do… thanks for finally popping my loser henchman’s cherry.”

The Monarch let out a cackle, a shit-eating grin spreading across his features as Gary’s protests echoed from the other line, barely picking up you hissing to Gary  ‘How does he know?’ before he hangs up.

-

With caffeine in both of your systems, Gary and you reluctantly parted ways, leaving a soft kiss on his plump cheek as he opens the door of the black sleek car that pulls up to the Monarch residence for you before it whisks you away.

Before he can even ascend up the steps, Gary sees the Monarch, donning the civilian wear he wore for reconnaissance, standing at the door with a devilish grin. 

“Enjoy your evening, Romeo?” Malcolm ribs his right-hand man, elbowing him playfully in the side as Gary walks through the door. The henchman groans, “Seriously, how did you even know?”

“Come on, 21, I know the sound of a man’s voice following a night of passion with his lover.” The red-haired villain chuckles, patting Gary’s broad chest, “Also the fact that you actually took my advice and wore something other than that blue plaid button up you’re always wearing told me you were planning to get laid.”

“Alright, alright, enough about my sex life. God, that’s so gross that my leader knows about my sex life. Hey, wait, how did you know I was a virgin?” Gary asked before pausing the moment the Monarch gave him a pointed look. “You’re right, self-explanatory.”

The pair descended down the stairs into the Blue Morpho cave to brainstorm Plan B but not before the Monarch almost slipped on the knife Gary had carelessly thrown to the ground the day prior after his fateful chase from you.

“What the fuck? Where the hell did this come from?” Malcolm cursed, picking up the object and examining it closely. “I don’t remember your Kano costume coming with knives. Looks almost like my wife’s.”

“Probably because it is hers. My girlfriend tried throwing it at my head yesterday as she was chasing me down.” Gary sighed as the gears in the Monarch’s head began to turn before clicking and grabbing the henchman’s shoulders.

“21, did she get a close look at you? Do you think she suspects you’re Kano?” The Monarch said in a serious tone, his expressive eyebrows furrowing into a glare. Gary quickly shakes his head, attempting to wriggle out of the grip his boss had on him.

“Oh god, no! I don’t think I would be standing here if she had any inkling. All she said at dinner is that she suspects that Blue Morpho is doing the killing or that he has “something” over Kano’s head to get him to kill.” Gary stammered as he reflected that the latter part of your claim had some truth to it.

The Monarch looked in his henchman’s eyes for any trace of doubt and as 21 stared back unwavering, he released his grip and let out a sigh. “Alright, stay on your toes, 21. I need you in tip-top shape so I can relinquish my wrath onto Dr. Venture once again.”

“Right… So Plan B, maybe a hostage situation with his daughter and wife?” Gary suggested. 

The Monarch stared at him incredulously, “Are you kidding, the man would slaughter us in a second if we even laid a finger on his family?” 

Gary hummed and tapped his lip as he thought of a solution, “Well, what if we don’t actually take them? Maybe tell them to go to a friend’s house or maybe the in-laws for the evening?”

After some thought, the Monarch grinned, beaming with almost pride at his henchman’s quick thinking, “21, you’re a genius.”

–

“You’re kidding, right?” You say in disbelief at the sight before you.

“I wish I was…” Sheila patted your shoulder, taking in the sight of Watch and Ward dressed as Hank and Dean, Phineas Phage as H.E.L.P.E.R and an OSI agent that you were unfamiliar with, Hunter Gathers, dressed as Dr. Venture.

“Oh, I have to get a photo of this to send to Gary, this is pure gold.” You chuckle in pure shock and amusement as you whip out your phone, snapping photos of Watch and Ward who try to shield themselves from your camera.

After you’re satisfied with the ridiculous amount of photos you’ve taken, you take a seat next to Dr. Mrs. the Monarch by the pool, tilting your head, “So where are the actual Ventures? I’ve heard so many stories here and there about them from Gary.”

“Well, Dr. Venture is at Quizboy’s house, and then I think Shoreleave, he’s an OSI agent, took the Venture boys out to show them where the real fun in the city is.. whatever that means.” Sheila says with a shrug, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her coat. The raven-haired villainess curses under her breath as she realizes she forgot her lighter. 

To her surprise, you fish out a pocket lighter from your coat, “You always step out for a smoke after our Meteor Majeure meetings when you’re stressed and look pissed if you forget your lighter in one of your other bags. Figured I’d carry one around.” You chuckle, lighting the cigarette that rests between her delicate fingers. 

Taking a slow drag, Sheila blows the smoke in the opposite direction of you before giving you a gracious smile, “Thanks, sweetheart. I swear you’re one of the only reasons I’m still sane with all this crap going on,” gesturing with her cigarette towards the shenanigans unfolding before you.

You chuckle, watching Hunter Gathers admonish Watch and Ward for breaking character, “I know it stresses you out dealing with all these air-headed villains but I know you love your job on the Council. I can tell from how you command the room and get everyone in order. I’ve honestly learned so much about the Guild and henching from the short time I’ve spent with you.”

“Well, if you can command a horde of over a hundred men dressed as butterflies, you can command any room you walk into.” Sheila chuckles before her gaze drifts to you, “You have the potential to do the same, sweetheart. Have you given any thought on what you want to do with your future with the Guild?”

You suddenly find the loose thread on the outer lining of your jacket interesting, toying with the material as you muddle over the question that has been weighing on your mind recently, “Well, I know  for sure I don’t want to go back to working with Wide Whale, I don’t know if I can go back to being just Sirena’s bodyguard and having to deal with those chauvinistic henchmen 24/7. They don’t even call me by my name half the time - just ‘girly’ or ‘lady’.”

Sheila gives your shoulder a sympathetic touch but before she can reply, Phantom Limb clears his throat behind you two, “While I’d hate to ruin such a tender moment between mentor and mentee, I’m afraid the council members need to meet to go over the plan for the evening, Councilwoman.”

The dark-haired villainess rises to her feet, helping you up with a reassuring squeeze on your hand, “We’ll talk later.” before following Phantom Limb inside.

–

Day quickly turned to night with the Monarch and 21 successfully executing phase one of their plan - just having come back from Red Death’s residence and changing out of the robes that Gary just so happened to have leftover from his DND campaign into their Blue Morpho and Kano costumes.

However, phase two had not gone as smoothly after Gary and the Monarch abruptly hung up the phone to their ransom call, following a Liam Neeson style threatening monologue from Red Death.

Breathing heavily in the claustrophobic pod, Gary contemplates how he ended up in this situation, only having genuinely feared for his life a handful of times in the many years of behind a henchman. As Red Death easily cuts through the pods with his scythe, the henchman immediately gets on his knees alongside his boss, begging for mercy and explaining the fake hostage situation. 

What he did not expect in return was a pep-talk from the wise villain. 

��But actually, how do you stay sane, knowing you killed people? Like doesn’t that consume you?” Gary questions as he offers Red Death a towel to wipe up the blood on his hands after killing and vaporizing the bodies of the villains he had locked up who decided to reenact the Saw Series in the basement bathroom. 

“I’m assuming you’re asking more how to keep it separate - this,” Gesturing to the Blue Morpho cave, Red Death remarks, “and your personal life.”

“I mean I’m sure it’s easier for you, your wife isn’t involved in the Guild but my girlfriend is… and with me being Kano, our relationship is starting off on the wrong foot with me lying to her face every day.” Gary sighed, rubbing his sore shoulder after the Monarch gave him a few, albeit weak punches to the soldier over not telling him about the bathroom.

“Well, it’s a balancing act, young henchman. All I can say are two things - remember where 21 ends and Gary begins. They’re both you, similar to how my bloodlust is a part of me, but it’s not all of me.” Red Death hums, handing back the bloodied rag before patting the burly henchman on the shoulder, “And I’ve learned that the key to a happy marriage is honesty. Eventually, this Blue Morpho escapade will end, and you and the Monarch will both have to face your partners with the truth. You get to choose whether you want to do it now or later.” 

“I do get to choose, don’t I?” Gary mused.

After Red Death leaves, Gary changes out of his Kano costume and spends the rest of the evening attempting to scrub off as much of the dried blood out of the porcelain tile as the Monarch requested, wanting to use the bathroom as soon as possible.

The henchman pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket, swiping through the texts that you had sent - Watch and Ward dressed as Hank and Dean, a selfie you took with Brock who appears to have begrudgingly agreed, and finally, an update text that you had made it home safely. His thick fingers type out the message, ‘Hey, can we talk about something tonight?’, hovering over the send button.

As he makes his way up the stairs, Gary freezes at the sight of the Monarch embracing his wife, who is fuming that she got ‘stood up’ by the Blue Morpho tonight. He sees the anxious look on his leader’s face as he has to lie to his wife, comforting her when he is the cause of her stress and frustration.

Gary ends up deleting the heavy text, heading up the stairs unnoticed. He instead types out, ‘Looks like someone had an eventful evening’, hitting the send button before flopping onto the mattress in his ‘room’, a currently unrenovated room in the Monarch residence.

Your response came in the form of a FaceTime call request, which Gary quickly answered, hoping to hear about your day as a way to distract himself. The moment your face pops into vision, his features soften, a smile breaking out as he admires your beauty through the tiny screen.

“Why hello, m’lady. Don’t you look cozy and quite ravishing I must say?” The henchman lays his compliment on thick, earning him a chuckle with a playful eye roll. 

“Yeah because your DND dice shirt on me totally screams sex appeal.” You tease, pulling the neck of the shirt up to reveal your nighttime attire that you had stolen from him a few days prior. 

“Well, you have this paladin wrapped around your finger.” Gary chuckles tiredly, raising his hand to rub his droopy eyes. The back of his hand comes into vision, flecks of red dotting across the back of his hand.

Your eyebrows raised at the sight in concern, “You didn’t fight at all today, right? Like no arches or any jobs you did to help the Monarch raise his EMA?”

“Yeah, why?” Gary questions, not realizing the traces of blood still on the back of his hand.

“I could’ve sworn you had blood on the back of your hand, Gare. I thought you were hurt,” You say softly, tilting your head as you wonder what it could be.

Gary’s eyes widen visibly as he glances at it before letting out a nervous chuckle, “O-Oh, that’s just red paint. Yeah, the Monarch wanted me to touch up some parts of his study and the house that Manolo missed.”

The henchman breaks into a cold sweat as he sees your perceptive eyes narrowing at his reaction but your gaze softens as you question why you even doubted him.

“Oh right, sorry… I just got worried for a second that you might have gotten hurt.” Your voice wavers slightly, biting down on your lap, “With the Blue Morpho still loose, it just makes me nervous about your well-being, especially considering that one time that the Blue Morpho slipped in and tranquilized both of our bosses.”

Gary relaxed slightly, almost forgetting that the Monarch pulled that stunt in order for them to arch the Doom Factory.

“Hey, if anything happened to me, I would tell you. Plus you’re more at risk than I am considering you’re out with Dr. Mrs. all the time,” Gary attempted to shift the conversation into a light-hearted beat, “Besides, look at me, I’m built like a tank compared to the Monarch and Dr. Mrs. It would take much more than a tiny tranquilizer dart to take me out.” 

A sense of relief rushes through Gary as you grin at his joke, “What do you think would take you out then? Bear tranquilizer?”

Gary lets out a tired chuckle, reaching back to let down his ponytail as he feels sleep slowly approaching, “Mm, that’s probably Samson level. Speaking of which, isn’t he wicked cool?”

You nod, letting out a soft yawn as you reach over to turn off your overhead light, the dim, moody lighting of the fairy lights strung about your room still illuminating your features.

“Super cool, I’ll have to tell you about it tomorrow. Getting sleepy.” You hum, settling into your covers. “You should head to bed too.”

“Alright, I’ll let my m’lady get her beauty rest. Good night.” Gary sighed, reaching to turn off the light.

“Good night. See you tomorrow, m’lord.” You playfully blow the henchman a kiss which he cheesily catches and holds to his heart before you end the call.

As Gary lays in bed, he wonders to himself how much longer he can wait to tell you before sleep overtakes him.

[beefromanoff]

Going Under Ch. 11

summary: the morning after Tony's party - HEAVY on the fluff here

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: so hot you're hurting my feelings - caroline polachek

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: sorry it's been so long since the last update, July was swamped with work and life and i've been swirling with ideas but no time to write them. hopefully updating several times this week!

chapter list/links - xo

____________________________________________________

Ouch.

Gianna’s eyes squeezed tight before they even opened. The thin sliver of light pouring into the hotel room through the gap in the blackout curtains had fallen right across her face. Wincing, she rolled away and tugged the covers over her eyes. 

The soft rustling of denim against velvet let her know that someone was in the room, perched in the luxe armchair by the window. Ever the morning person, that Bucky Barnes.

Shit. Bucky.

Gianna froze, tangled in the comforter, as the events of last night came flooding back to her through a champagne haze. Popping champagne on the balcony, drinking games, karaoke on the table, an all-too-seductive bend and snap move on Bucky, and then…shit. 

She buried her face deeper in the covers as if the soft material could take the burn out of her cheeks. The memories kept playing as though on a loop. Sitting on Bucky’s lap, feeling his arms around her, holding his cheek, kissing him. Finally kissing him. Somewhere in her attempt to repress reality, Gianna let out an audible groan. 

“Good morning, sunshine.” 

Slowly, Gianna lifted her head to peek in the direction of Bucky’s low morning voice. He was right where she expected, leaning back in the chair, an open cup of black coffee in his hand. He seemed to feel the opposite of how she did. She felt slow, sluggish, groggy - he looked more lively than she’d ever seen him. She felt shameful and sheepish - he looked merely amused. 

Squinting at him through one eye, Gianna groaned again. 

“Coffee’s on the way. I ordered it when I heard you start to wake up. Should be here any minute. Same with your other saving grace, Tony’s sending one of his nurses to give you an IV pack that’ll have you feeling brand new.”

“My hero.” Her voice sounded gravelly at best as she reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes. As the back of her hands burrowed against her eyelids, Gianna felt the surprising absence of mascara and glitter. Pausing, she looked at her hands to find them devoid of smudged, day-old makeup. 

She glanced at Bucky who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she woke up. Truthfully, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her all night, but she didn’t know that. 

“You know Kate would kick both our asses if she knew you slept in your makeup.”

Gianna’s heart skipped a beat. 

The thought of her gruff, super soldier, ex-assassin, Avenger bodyguard gently removing her makeup before she slept filled her with warmth. She cracked a smile as she envisioned Bucky gently tugging a makeup wipe out of the package with his metal hand. 

“Thank goodness, I thought you were broken,” Bucky teased. “This is the longest I’ve seen you go without smiling since I’ve known you.”

Gianna rolled her eyes. “I’ve only been up for ten minutes.” 

“Exactly.” 

They locked eyes across the room. Gianna’s smile faded as she searched his blue eyes for any sign of his reaction to the night before, silently pleading with him to be over the moon with her. A knock on the door interrupted the moment. 

Bucky jumped up and strode over to the door as Gianna hung her head. Stupid. Why am I so stupid. She shook her head, trying not to think of the inevitable awkwardness if he didn’t feel the same way about their (her) drunken kiss. How would they do the rest of the tour with that kind of discomfort? What if he left the assignment and sent someone else to replace him?

“Drink up.” She was jolted back to reality by the coffee being offered out to her, which she gladly accepted. The sweet, warm latte was exactly what she needed. Reclining back in bed, Gianna decided she’d give herself the morning to wallow and avoid consequences, and then talk to Bucky later. 

A second knock on the door alerted them to the nurse’s arrival. Bucky let her in and she trailed him into the bedroom. 

“Good morning, Ms. Cruz.” She was a middle aged woman with a stern face, but kind eyes. Her hair was slicked back into a bun and she donned the futuristic Stark Industries scrubs that everyone in his biotech lab wore. 

Gianna smiled. “Good morning, thanks for doing this.” 

“Not a problem. When we hear that Mr. Stark is having company, we prep at least a dozen of these.” She gestured to the bag holding golden fluid. 

The nurse continued to set up the IV equipment next to her bed as Gianna sipped her coffee. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Bucky spoke. 

“Your call time isn’t until soundcheck at 3, you’ve got time to go back to sleep if you’d like.” 

Glancing over the clock, Gianna saw the glowing numbers tell her it was just after 9:00am. She nodded and settled into the bed, extending her right arm out for the nurse whenever she was ready. 

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He smiled but didn’t speak.  Silently, he walked over to the bed. He tugged the comforter higher over her body and took the coffee back from her hand. 

“You can drink this later. Get some sleep.” 

_____________________________________

As Gianna sat in the makeup chair, she silently thanked Tony Stark for the millionth time that day. She’d woken up several hours later with a small bandage on her arm and no other evidence that she’d felt like a bomb went off in her head that same morning. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she swore that even her skin glowed more now than it ever had. 

Bucky sat on the couch in the dressing room, scrolling on his phone as he waited for the lengthy glam process to finish. His thumb flicked through various social media posts about Gianna and her ‘mysterious new man’. Wanda had texted him a link that morning while Gianna slept and now, in their brief downtime, Bucky found himself lost in the rabbit hole.

He couldn't believe how much attention they were getting, especially from Gianna's teenage girl fans.

"Candy Crush?" Gianna teased.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She smiled, still finding it simultaneously adorable and hilarious how out of touch Bucky was with pop culture. “Whatcha reading?”

Bucky looked up at her, cheeks flushing. "Just some posts about us," He flipped the phone around so she could see. “Wanda sent one to me, turns out there’s quite a narrative online about you and your mystery man.”

“No way,” Gianna plucked the phone from Bucky’s hand. “What are they saying now -”

She paused, eyes catching a photo of her and Bucky grabbing coffee a few weeks ago. She scrolled and saw another of them arriving at Tony’s place the night before. Scroll. Photo of them smiling at each other backstage. Scroll. Photo of Bucky walking her to their black SUV with his hand on her back. Scroll. A photo shot through the window of a different coffee shop of Gianna laughing at something he’d said.

“What does ‘ship’ mean?” Bucky interrupted her scrolling.

Gianna laughed, feeling a sense of amusement. "It means they want us to be in a relationship," 

Bucky looked at her, feeling a sense of surprise. "Really?".

"Yeah, they think we're cute together," she said, flicking through a few more posts before handing the phone back to him. “Like if you ‘ship’ two people, you’re rooting for them to get together.”

He took the phone back, his brow furrowed.

“For example, I ship Steve and Nat.”

Bucky looked up at her and grinned, seeming to understand. “I guess I do too.” 

He looked back down at his phone and couldn't decide if he was flattered or embarrassed. He wasn't used to being in the public eye, especially not in such a personal way. Over the years, he’d seen dozens of articles about his past, his trials, his pardon. Never any speculation about his love life, not that there had ever been much to speculate about. He was surprised that so many people were interested in their potential relationship.

Gianna seemed to notice his quiet thought process. "If it makes you uncomfortable in any way, we can be more secretive," Her eyes were kind. “I’m used to it, so I don’t really notice any more. We can stop going in public if you -”

Bucky shook his head, cutting her off. "No, I love being seen with you." 

His direct answer seemed to catch them both off guard. Gianna’s stomach filled with butterflies. Even Kate froze, the curling wand clutched in one hand and a lock of Gianna’s hair in the other. She glanced back and forth between the two, wondering how the hell they were the only two people who didn’t seem to realize that the sparks between them could power a small country.

“There are worse things to have people talk about. Trust me.” Bucky spoke again, diffusing the palpable tension in the room.

“Watch out Tom and Zendaya.” Gianna joked, hearing Kate chuckle behind her.

“Who?”

Gianna rolled her eyes. 

____________________________

Later that day, as afternoon turned to evening, Gianna sat in her green room. Bucky had gone to grab her water, so she was alone with her thoughts. She picked up her phone and opened her camera roll. Somehow, over the tour, it had been filled with sweet memories. 

As she waited for Bucky to return or for the stage manager to come tell her to get in position, she flicked through the photos, her heart skipping a beat with each happy memory coming back to her. 

Gianna's Camera Roll

When Bucky returned and told her they were ready for her backstage, she tossed her phone into her duffel bag and followed him out the door. 

Something told her that the love songs in her setlist would sound especially convincing tonight.

[erodasfishtacos]

Is this seat empty? " Yes and this one will be too if you sit down" , "Don't be like that my love."

For MLB!Harry first stupid fight in a relationship 😂

Okay this turned into something entirely different then the prompt. Sorry anon 😂

—

Peace & Quiet (Please)

If you enjoy please like, reblog, comment, or come talk to me!

I write for free so if you enjoy my work please consider donating to my kofi page.

-

“Where d’you put m’protein mix?” Harry asks, padding into the kitchen and opening every single fucking cabinet.

“It’s in the same place it’s been for the past five years,” YN bites out with a slight irritation, mixing the pancake batter a little rougher.

She’s been up since three in the morning and Harry sauntered in around six-thirty after coming home late from a baseball game last night.

All the babies still asleep.

“Ah - fuck,” Her husband huffs when he spills the powder all over the countertop and floor she had just swiffered ten minutes ago.

When he goes to open the other cabinet and grab for a shaker bottle - they all come tumbling out onto the floor in a loud clash.

“Could you be any louder? You going to wake up the kids!” YN scolds harshly, pointing to the closet, “Go get the swiffer.”

He obliges - surprised by her attitude, grabbing it and slapping it (by accident) on the ground like a fucking baseball bat, the head of the mop snapping off and breaking.

“S’broken,” Harry states the obvious, shrugging and going about peeling a banana before leaving the peel near the sink.

YN turns to face him, voice irritated, “I’m about to break you, just like you broke the swiffer.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks cheekily but her glare tells him there is no amusement to be had this morning.

“I just spent all morning cleaning and you’ve made this place a disaster already!” His wife bites before flipping one of the pancakes.

Harry dejectedly cleans up his protein mix mess, neatly places the shake bottles into the right place, throws away the peel, and closes all the cabinets.

“M’sorry,” He murmurs, coming up behind her and kisses the nape of her neck, “Y’seem a bit cranky this mornin’.”

And man. He should have not said that.

“Do you have a baby who needs to fucking feed from your body every hour even during the night? I don’t think so,” She mutters, shaking him off of her.

“Hey, mama. M’bein’ an ass, what can I do to help?” He changes gears, choosing to stand next to her since she didn’t seem to want to be touch.

“Breastfeed - let your nipples feel like their constantly on fire and about to fall off. Make all this post-partum bleeding stop. Let me sleep for a day straight. I don’t know,” YN begins to sniffles, plating a few mini pancakes.

He’s taken aback, eyebrows furrowing in concern, and he leans forward to flip off the stovetop, “Can I touch you?”

She nods, wiping her eyes, and allows him to haul her up into their marble countertop, “Mama, y’need to tell me when y’feeling overwhelmed? Please baby. I’ve asked you a million times to wake me up and I can bottle feed her.”

“No, she…I have to feed her. It helps bonding and it-“

Harry interrupts firmly, “She will be perfectly fine being fed by a bottle a few times a day. You’re putting too much stress on yourself.”

Her head falls on his shoulder and she mumbles, “I just feel so…gross, not attractive at all.”

He pulls her back, searching her face in confusion, “Baby, why would you ever say somethin’ like that?”

YN let’s out a quiet sob, “My nipples are chafed and sore, I’m constantly bleeding, my belly hasn’t deflated -“

Harry can’t help but lean in and connect their lips harshly, he’s pulling her loose shirt up and over her head.

“Harry, what-“

“Listen t’me,” Harry rasps seriously, his hands are tender and careful as they cup her swollen breasts - thumbing at her painful nubs.

“I’m literally obsessed w’your tits, baby. They’ll go back to normal after y’done feeding and even if they don’t - I love them just as fucking much. You fed our three healthy strong boys and now you’re makin’ sure our chunky little girl is eating good.”

Then he hands move to cup her belly, large hands splayed over the still softening, firm bump from where Briar had been housed for nine months.

“Y’gave me four, four fuckin’ babies from this belly. I’m fucking in love with your body. God, y’thighs, y’tummy, the stretchmarks - fuck, getting me hard just lookin’ at you.”

It was true, he was stiffening up in his shorts but neither of them acknowledged it - it was a love boner more than anything else.

He literally got hard from how much he loved her.

“I’m tired,” She sighs softly, letting Harry tug her shirt back on as the children would be waking up soon to eat breakfast.

“I know, mama,” Harry acknowledges softly, giving her another kiss before taking over the pancake station.

-

When all the boys are downstairs and chomping away on their food, Cash, who is just about four decides it’ll be funny to squirt the sticky syrup all over their expensive stool cushions and the floor.

When YN turns from the sink to see the mess, she admits she snaps a little bit, “Really Harry? You’re supposed to be watching them, not checking the sports news on your phone!”

Harry is about to defend himself but his wife is stomping over to where Cash has emptied the bottle and gives him a firm look, “Cash Edward Styles, get your bum upstairs, right now.”

Cash’s eyes widen, his mother rarely needed to use a harsh tone with them, “Mama, I’m so-“

“If you are not upstairs, by the bathtub this instant, you get no outside time today. Do you understand me?” YN tells him, giving Easton a warning look when he licks at the syrup on his finger.

“Yes mama,” Cash squeaks out sadly, abandoning his plate and walking up towards the bathroom upstairs to get clean.

Easton and Ezra are dead silent as they watch their brother leave - not wanting the same fate as him so they sit proper.

“Sweetheart-“ Harry begins, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“No, I have my hands full taking care of four kids. I don’t need you acting like a fifth. Go bathe your son,” YN tells him coldly, an angry stare directed his way.

Harry clenches his jaw, biting his tongue as he stands up and pushes his chair in with force - making a loud noise before following after his second son.

A few minutes after they’re out of sight, Easton thought it’d be funny to wipe syrup down Ezra’s cheek which made Ezra cry and throw a pancake at his older brother - now soaking him in syrup.

YN starts to leak milk at the sound of Ezra’s cries.

“Easton Robin - get you butt upstairs this instant too. You know better - no outside time today,” She informs him as she uses a wet wipe to clean Ezra’s cheek.

“Mama,” Easton whines, fat tears starting roll down his cheeks as he stands up, loitering by the kitchen stool.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” YN warns, swiping a paper towel over the wet spot on her shirt from the leak.

-

Harry had just started washing up Cash who was still melancholy when his blubbering older one comes in - still tearful.

He sighs, looking at his syrupy son, “Wha’ happened?”

Easton looks hesitant, “I put syrup on Ezzie and mama said no outside time today.”

His father is tight-lipped, he can already predict that Easton’s actions upset Ezra, “Alright, c’mon. Let’s clean y’up too. Y’know better, Easton.”

-

Harry had just finished helping both boys dress when YN appears in the doorway with Ezra who has a binkie popped in his mouth.

She steps over and hands their son to Harry before muttering, “I’m going to feed Briar, keep the boys out of the room. I need some peace.”

YN disappears from the room before he can even reply to her.

-

Harry can admit he gets distracted when one of his coaches calls him up for a game change, doesn’t notice when Cash sneaks from the playroom.

It’s less than five minutes later when YN leads Cash gently by the hand back into the playroom, with Briar still latched and feeding.

When she sees Harry on his phone, she’s fucking livid with him.

“Really Harry?” His wife scoffs, guiding Cash to join Easton in where he’s playing with legos.

“I’ll call you back,” Harry replies to his coach before hanging up, “Sorry, it was Donny-“

“Good to know your job is more important than watching your kids,” She spits out before storming back out of the room.

Harry is up and following behind her, jaw clenched and irritated, “Just ‘cause you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean that y’say shit like that.”

She turns on her heel, eyes fiery, “You have no god damn consideration. You’ve been swamped this week because of your nike promotion and games. I’ve had the babies all by myself for four nights while you get to gallivant around!”

Harry goes to speak but she puts her free hand up.

“I ask for you to keep our house clean and to let me have one moment of peace with our daughter but you don’t even let me have that! You do not understand how hard it is to push a baby out of you and then have them rely on you to feed them twenty times a day!”

His anger fades when his wife starts sobbing - chest shuddering sobs, “I just had her four weeks ago. I-I haven’t had a break yet. You act like it’s so easy!”

He starts to walk towards her, “Sweetheart-“

YN shakes her head, a desperate plea in her tone, “Please just give me time with Briar.”

Harry swallows harshly and nods - feeling like shit as his wife walks back towards the stairs - all the while still feeding their daughter.

-

“Hello?”

“Mum, I-can you take the boys for the night?” Harry asks quietly, standing in the kitchen while the two older boys are still playing quietly.

Ezra’s passed out, on Harry’s hip with his little face smushed against the cap of his shoulder with parted lips.

“Dear, is everything okay?” She replies cautiously.

“No, I-I don’t know. YN is overwhelmed and I don’t think I’ve been supportive enough,” Harry feels himself begin to sniffle.

Anne doesn’t pry for information which Harry loves about her, she agrees to take them, and states she’ll be over within the hour.

Harry goes about packing their pajamas and other necessities in their little backpacks as the squeal excitedly about going to Nana’s.

“Can we say bye to mama?” Easton asks anxiously as they clear out of their bedrooms.

“Let me go ask,” He murmurs, running a hand through his son’s curls.

When he cracks open the door, YN is sprawled out on her back, fast asleep with Briar also asleep in the bassinet next to the bed.

His heart aches because her shirt is off, and the remnants of her nipple cream which was a pinkish orange color wasn’t fully rubbed in on her bruised breasts.

Harry guides them downstairs, promising that their mama will call them later.

-

After the boys leave, Harry doesn’t know what to do so he cleans whatever he finds that is dirty or messy so she won’t have to.

He does all the laundry in the house, cleans up every single toy, and when Briar starts to whimper - he sneaks in to snatch her up so she doesn’t wake YN.

Then he takes her out to the shops with him to grab groceries, her favorite snacks, and maybe he does stop by a jewelry store and buy her something nice.

(casually a pair of 20k earrings)

YN fell asleep around eighty-thirty in the morning and doesn’t wake up until about nine at night, Harry had put Briar in her nursery about an hour ago.

When she does awake, Harry is sitting in the living room - watching a stupid action movie to pass time and dwell on everything.

She comes in quietly, stands in front of her husband who looks up at her with anxious eyes - she looks brighter now that she’s had adequate sleep.

“Will you hold me?” She rasps quietly, just in one of Harry’s shirts and soft pair of sleep shorts.

“Never haven t’ask, mama,” He murmurs, guiding her until she’s straddling his lap and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands sneak beneath her shirt to massage the sleep-warm skin as he kisses her shoulder - over and over again.

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispers into his skin, voice croaky as she tries to not get upset.

He pulls her back to study her face, “Do not apologize, y’allowed to get mad at me and feel frustrated. You’re emotions are valid. There’s a lot going on and I could be doing more to help.”

YN wipes a tear that trickles down as she laughs in disbelief, “No, you can’t do anymore to help.”

“Wha-? I can, I promis-“

She interrupts his with a kiss before telling him sincerely, “You can’t do anymore help because you’re already doing the most amazing job. As a husband and dad. I was just tired and stressed - it’s not an excuse.”

It warms his heart, he fucking loves her so much it does make sense, has to button their lips together one more time.

“You have a really hard job too, on top of being a husband and dad. You give us all this, support us and take care of us.”

“Are y’kidding me? Y’the one who keeps this family together. Y’the fuckin’ love of my life, you know that? I love you so much, so so much,” He emphasizes, rubbing a thumb across her bottom lip.

The kiss one more time - the anger was subsided and they were okay once again.

Harry laughs and agree when YN murmurs, “S’time for bed again, m’tired.”

“Okay mama, anythin’ for you,” He responds before peppering her in kisses to make her giggle lightly.

[xoxo-teddybear]

What Have I Done? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, Physical injuries, cursing

Summary: An argument gone out of hand. Y/N just wanted Katsuki to be home more. They’re married and yet she barely sees him throughout the week. When she finally speaks on her hurt feelings, she gets a reaction she definitely wasn’t expecting.

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

A/N:.....I cried while writing this.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

‘He’s gone already. Again. Like always.’

Y/N had awoken to another empty bed. Her husband’s side of the mattress remained cold and empty. This wasn’t anything new. It’s been like this for the past few months. She would wake up alone, eat breakfast alone, spend her day alone, eat dinner alone, and go back to sleep at the end of the day...alone.

It’s not that Katsuki is intentionally ignoring Y/N. He loves her with his everything, he truly does! But villains never rest and neither does he. He’s so preoccupied with hero work that when he does get a day off, his friends drag him away to a bar or game night. Y/N always ran through his head but she had always been so understanding. And besides, she knows how busy the life of a pro is. She used to be one so she gets it. Right?

Wrong. She doesn’t get it. Because even when she was a pro, her and Katsuki always found time for each other. And ever since said man made her quit, claiming he could take care of both of them easily and he would feel better knowing his beloved is safe at home, they’ve seen each other less and less. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Y/N was willing to quit her dream because she found a new dream in Katsuki. She always imagined that being his little housewife would give them more time together but the opposite of that came true. Now she sits in the big empty house with no company for hours on end.

Her sadness builds up every day. She misses her husband. She tries to be an understanding wife but at this point, it’s like he’s not even trying to make an effort to see her. It’s like he’s settled to just coming home to her sleeping form and waking up to her in the exact same state, leaving before he can witness her do anything else. He should understand her though, no? I mean, she had brought it up to him in a very casual way and so he never took it seriously, but she’s mentioned it before. He should have a pretty vivid image of how shes been feeling. Right?

After 6 months of loneliness and being ‘Katsuki-deprived,’ Y/N made her move to speak to her husband about her feelings. She already imagined the outcome. An argument due to Katsuki’s brash behavior and her ‘never back down’ attitude, sad times bringing in the silent treatment for the two of you up until the both of you give in and forgive each other due to the love you have. Finally ending in a compromise. Y/N released a heavy breath as she looked at the time.

1:36 a.m. Just a few more minutes until Katsuki’s home.

—

He was pissed. 3 large scale bank robberies, 10 villain-wannabe fights, an argument with his publicist about his ‘out of line attitude,’ and Deku replacing him on a random ass billboard. The last detail wouldn’t have mattered if it was anybody else but the fact that it was Deku had him riled up. He just wanted to go home to a quiet house with his beautiful wife and admire her gorgeous, slumbering state. However that was not what he was greeted with.

Katsuki grumbled as he unlocked the front door and walked in. He noticed the lights were still on and saw Y/N still awake, seated on the couch. On any other day, he’d be elated to see his wife was still up. They’d talk and cuddle and go to sleep together. If he was lucky, they’d both make love until the sun rose. But tonight, that wouldn’t be happening. He wanted a quiet house with his sleeping wife. Not..whatever was about to happen. He sighed as he dropped his bag at the front door and sloppily placed his keys in the glass bowl near the door.

“What’re you doing up dumbass?” He asked as he walked to the kitchen, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He needed a drink.

“I was waiting for you, Katsuki. I just wanted to talk to you about something,” you said in a soft voice, hoping it would suppress his for sure incoming anger. Katsuki closed the fridge with a kick to the heavy door and chugged down a quarter of his drink.

“I’m not in the mood. Had a shitty day and I wanna sleep. Just go to bed.” He said sternly while trying to finish his beer as fast as he could.

“Don’t you think I would’ve done that hours ago? I wouldn’t have stayed up and waited for you if this wasn’t important. Please Katsuki, I really wanna talk.” Bakugou was beginning to grow annoyed. Why wouldn’t you just drop it already? He squeezed his bottle hard enough for it too crack before he spoke with a louder voice.

“Y/N! You’re not listening! I’m tired. I had a horrible day and I just want to sleep. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to stay up anymore, and I don’t want to listen to whatever bullshit you’re about to complain and bitch about like you always do!” He screamed. His words made your jaw drop.

“Not listening?! That’s all I do! All I do is listen to your every command so that you come home happy-“

“Well it looks like you failed today!” He said, cutting you off.

“Quit interrupting! And what was it that you said?! All I do is bitch and complain?! I’m trying to talk to you about something serious here Katsuki!” You pleaded, still hoping he would give in and listen. And he did...just not in the way you’d expect.

“Fine then! If this’ll get you to quit being an annoying ass waste of time, then speak! Talk! What the hell do you want?!” He asked, screaming at you, furious at all the dramatics you’ve brought up in one night.

His words kind of stung. ‘Annoying ass? Waste of time? Is this what he thinks I am?’ You grew silent at his insults and Katsuki seethed even more.

“Oh what? I scream at you and you bitch up? Toughen up Y/N, jeez. Quit acting like a baby! Tell me what you wanted to say!” He yelled.

“.......I just....I just wanted you to spend some time with me. .....Be home more.” You said in a quiet and broken voice. You looked down to the now very interesting floor as you played with your hands.

“Seriously? This shit again? I’m a pro-hero, Y/N! I’m busy! I’m not gonna drop saving lives just because your brat ass wants someone to notice you! Since when were you such an attention whore?” He asked while rolling his neck to relieve his strained muscles. Your eyes widen at the ground due to his words and your head snapped back up to face him.

“A-attention whore? I-...I just want my husband to stop working so much. I don’t know..maybe have a day off or two!” She said with a crinkled nose as you screamed.

“I do have days off, Moron. It’s why I’m not overworked, ever thought about that?!” He screamed back.

“And you spend those days off away from me! I’m not trying to act like the world revolves around me but I would hope my own husband would spend a day with me instead of his friends that he ALWAYS sees because you ALL WORK TOGETHER!” You argued. You made a valid point and even Katsuki knew that, but he was too stubborn to admit defeat. He was still tired but he had enough energy to put you back in your place. His eyes popped as a vein grew on his neck.

“Well- WELL YOU’RE ONCE AGAIN JUST BITCHING AND COMPLAINING LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO! I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU’RE SO UPSET!” He screamed.

“Don’t understand?! You know what? I know you don’t because you never listen to-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, I WASNT DONE TALKING! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AROUND THE HOUSE, LAZING AROUND, DOING NOTHING BUT TRY TO ARGUE WITH-“

“LAZING AROUND?!” You shouted in disbelief. “WHO MAKES YOUR MEAL PREP THE NIGHT BEFORE SO YOU CAN ENJOY IT AT WORK AND IN THE MORNING? WHO CLEANS THE ENTIRE HOUSE EVERYDAY WHILE YOU’RE GONE? WHO MAKES SURE YOU HAVE A FULL FRIDGE, CLEAN HOUSE, GOOD FOOD, AND A HAPPY LIFE? ME KATSUKI! ME!”

“Happy life? DO I LOOK HAPPY TO YOU BITCH?! NEWSFLASH, IM NOT! SO CONGRATS Y/N! YOU FAILED ONCE AGAIN! AND WHO GIVES A FUCK IF YOU PLAY MAID WHILE IM AWAY?! IM BUSY SAVING THE FUCKING WORLD! THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS BE A GOOD WIFE SINCE YOU CANT EVEN BE A FUCKING PRO ANYMORE!” He insulted again.

“because of FUCKING YOU!” You argued once more.

“I DID IT FOR YOU!” He said while throwing his bottle to the wall, causing it to shatter. “I DO EVERYTHING FOR YOUR UNGRATEFUL BITCH ASS! I PAY THE BILLS! I BRING HOME THE CASH! I GIVE YOU THE MONEY TO BUY ALL THE FUCKING FOOD, CLOTHES, AND ANY OTHER STUPID SHIT YOU WANT! AND ON TOP OF THAT, I STUFF YOUR STUPID CUNT TO PLEASURE YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASS. AT THIS POINT, YOU’RE JUST A WALKING HOLE FOR ME TO USE!”

His words hurt. They broke your heart. Did he really feel this way? If so, why was he even with you anymore. You notice a smirk grow on his face at your bewildered state. He looked as if he just won something. However, the smirk dropped into a scowl once he saw your eyes begin to pool with tears.

“Oh great! Cry! Go ahead! Just shed your fucking tears like you always do! I’m going to bed! Come join me when you’re done being an annoying bitch.” He said and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he began to walk away. You didn’t want the conversation to go this way and there was no conclusion. You needed this to be resolved now. You just wanted your husband back. You reached out to stop him from walking but the unforeseen happened.

“Katsuki..don’t walk away from thi-“

“DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He said and smacked your arms away with a burning palm. Without realizing, Katsuki began to spark his quirk and so when he went in to push you away, he burned your forearm.

A loud blast and smoke filled the room and your screams of pain invaded his ears. The sound made a shocked face grow on him as he quickly turned to see the damaged he had caused. His heart sank as he saw you crying while holding your burnt arm with your other hand. You were slightly hunched over in pain as you took notice of the damage that had been caused. That he caused.

“Y/N!” Bakugou softly shouted as he ran to you. He wanted to help but before he could even lay a finger on you, you flinched. The action caused him to hesitate and hold himself back. He ran to the kitchen sink to get a cold rag and he brought it back to you. “Baby! I am so sor-“

You pushed him away and off of you as you quickly walked to your bedroom with a shadow casted over your eyes. Tears still flowed down your cheeks as sniffles could be heard from your cherry red nose. Katsuki couldn’t believe what he just did and ran to follow you.

“Y/N! Please listen! I didn’t mean it! I don’t know how that happened Teddy Bear but I swear I didn’t mean it! I swear I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I said! I’m sor-“

*SLAM* *click!*

Katsuki realized he followed you out the kitchen, through the living room, up the stairs, and to the entrance of the master bedroom you both shared before you slammed the door and locked it right in his face.

“Baby! Please open the door!” He said while knocking in a very rushed manner. He wanted nothing more than to help you and treat the damage he caused to his beloved wife. He had royally fucked up. He began turning and jiggling the locked knob in an attempt to get it open but failed. “Please Y/N! I have to take care of you and that burn. I’m so sorry but please let me in!”

On the other side of the door, you pressed your back against it as you held in your sobs and slid to the bottom. You pulled both lips in to conceal your voice while you held your wrist to examine the burn on your arm. It was so bad. Your skin turned an angry shade of red as it blistered and bled. You were dripping blood all over your carpeted floor and so you ran to the master bathroom in the bed room.

You turned on the sink and placed your forearm under the cold, running water. The water soothed it a bit but it wasn’t enough to cover the pain. You turned off the sink and grabbed a hand rag as you patted down on your wound. You took out the first aid kit and cared for yourself. You had to take the alcohol to clean it and sucked in a breath before you poured the solution over the burn. You screamed as it seemed to have hurt 10x more. After dabbing cotton over it, you wrapped it in bandages and took a breath of relief.

‘What just happened?’ You thought to yourself.

The entire time, Katsuki was still begging for you to open up. He heard your scream and grew frantic. He banged on the door and cried for you, still hoping, praying, that you would let him in. When nothing happened, he resorted back to calling out for you but to no avail.

About an hour went by and it was almost 4 in the morning. You sat on the bed with your arms holding your knees to your chest. You stared at the wrap as the memories of what went down tonight flashed through your brain.

‘Waste of time...brat ass...attention whore...ungrateful...annoying bitch.’

His words struck you right in your heart. Cruel thoughts began to fill your head.

‘He doesn’t love me. He hates me. I’m worthless.’ Your thoughts would’ve continued until a quiet knock snapped you out of you mind.

“....Y/N?...Baby?” It was Katsuki of course, but a softer version of him. A broken one. “..I don’t know if you’re listening or if you’re awake..but I need you to know that I’m so so sorry.” It was easy to hear his muffled and staggered voice that exposed his tears and sobs. “If I could turn back time right now, I would do tonight all over again, I swear. I would’ve came home and listened to you. And we could’ve talked things out. We would’ve came out of this problem being a stronger couple than we were before...because that’s what we always do. We always make it out of the dark together..because we’re a team..and I need you. .....Please...please don’t leave me Y/N. I love you so much. ‘M so sorry that I hurt you..that I burned you..that I’m such a terrible husband. But I promise you I’ll fix everything in the morning...................Teddy Bear?”

He didn’t know it, but you were listening. You heard every word but refrained from speaking. You knew that the second you did, you’d break down and go crawling back to him....but you didn’t want to do that. You wanted to leave. He physically burned you and you wanted to leave. You were going to sleep for a few hours, and when you would awaken, you would pack a bag and leave. And so, you began your plan and tried to get some sleep as tear streaks marked your face. It would all be over soon.

You woke up to the morning sun.

6:50 a.m.

You rose out of bed and rubbed at your puffy eyes. You quietly got ready in the bathroom and applied the slightest bit of makeup to look more presentable. You took out a pair of shoes and tossed them to the center of the room. You were in your closet and pulled out a bag. You stuffed it full of a few clothes for you to wear, you couldn’t stay here. Not after what he did. You fought through the pain as you pulled on your jacket and placed your shoes on. You wiped your tears as you picked up your purse and got ready to leave. You were going to stay in a hotel. Didnt matter where or how expensive. You just needed to get away.

Finally, you walked to the exit of the bedroom. You took a breath before you slowly turned the knob and was greeted with the sight of a sleeping Bakugou. He had slept in the hallway in front of the bedroom, still wearing the same clothes from the night before. His knees were scrunched up with his arms resting there to be used as a pillow. He layed his head atop of his arms and as you looked down into his hands, you saw the rag. The exact rag from the argument. The rag that he attempted to use to help you. Little did you know, Bakugou hadn’t planned on getting rid of it until you let him use it to help you. He wanted nothing more than to fix his mistake and cater to you and your wound.

You shook your head as you felt tears began to fill your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You took a step and sadly awoken the exact man you were trying to avoid. Bakugou had quickly woken up when he heard the slightest noise and was blessed with the beauty that is you. He looked up at you with wide eyes and a small smile.

“Y/N...” was what he whispered before he quickly got up to run to you.

“Y/N!” He ecstatically said with a hint of relief. He was about to wrap him arms around you but you kept a hand at his chest to keep him at bay. “Baby?...”

Bakugou looked at you with hurt and confused eyes when you didn’t welcome his embrace. Even when you were mad at him, you still allowed him to hold you so what gives? He looked at you and your attire. He noticed your jacket and shoes and saw you holding a bag. “W-what are you doing?”

You walked away from him but he snatched your wrist to make you turn to face him. “Y/N! What’s going on?!” He frantically asked with crazed eyes. You snatched your wrist back and ran down the stairs and he copied your actions. He followed you into the living room until he grabbed your wrist once more. You tried to pull away again but found it harder because this time, he gripped it tight.

“W-where are you going baby?”

“Dont call me that.”

“What? Why? Baby, please tell me what’s going on.” He begged as he squeezed your wrist.

“What’s going on? Are you serious? What does it look like? I’m leaving!” Bakugou’s eyes went wide once more and shook his head.

“N-no! No, why!?”

“Why?! Look at my arm!” You screamed.

“I know! I know and I’m so sorry! But..but you don’t have to go! I can fix you up, I’ll take you to recovery girl, I will bring you to the best hospitals around the world to fix that for you! Just please don’t go!” He bargained and offered everything but you weren’t budging.

“It’s not just the burn Bakugou.” You deadpanned with a nonchalant face. His heart felt heavy after hearing your voice refer to him with his family name.

“..I-it’s Katsuki! Your Katsuki! It’s Suki, baby please!” Bakugou stepped closer as he cried once more but you backed away again. His hold on your wrist still strong as his fingers played with the ring on your hand, trying to calm himself down and remind himself that you are still his wife.

You shook your head at his pleading. “Bakugou. You burned me. But not only that, you’ve neglected me for months.”

“I know that! And I’m sorry! I will spend just as much time off of work to make it up to you, I swear I will, I promise!” He once again bargained.

“It’s too late.”

“No it’s not, please, it can’t be!”

“It is Bakugou-“

“KATSUKI! ....please...please don’t call me that. I’m your Katsuki,” he said with a whimpering voice. At this point you felt the tears come through, but you still didn’t allow them to fall.

“Katsuki...I can’t stay here. Too much damage has been done.” You said with a soft voice. Bakugou continued to shake his head ‘no,’ but you already made up your mind. You used your wind quirk in your hand and blew his grip off your wrist. You took the quick opportunity to walk to the door but Bakugou grabbed your bag off your shoulder in a childish panic and attempt to get you to stay.

“Hey!-“

“Please Y-Y/N! Please don’t leave me! I- I know I’ve been a terrible husband! I’m sorry! B-But I promise I’ll do better. I’ll stay at home more, I’ll spend more time with you, Please!”

“Katsu-“

“I’ll buy you whatever you want! I’ll get you all the expensive brands, I’ll find you all the best jewelry, I’ll give you all the money in the world! I’ll give you the whole world! Please stay! I love you so much Y/N!”

“Katsuki, give me back my bag,” you tried to reach for it but Bakugou kept it away from you and pulled you in with one arm and held you in a tight embrace as he cried on your shoulder.

“Please...you can’t do this to me. I need you. I love you! I’ll do better! I’ll be a better husband, I swear..just please don’t go.” He softly spoke with a broken voice and soft hiccups. It was wrong for you to do this, but you sighed and pretended to forgive him as you wrapped your arms around his torso. You hugged him tight and he fell for it as he openly sobbed now. His other arm that held your bag came to wrap around your waist but before it could, you snatched the bag out of his hold and pushed him away. You ran to the door and held a tight grip on the knob as you picked up your car keys. You saw Katsuki attempt to run back to you but you created a strong barrier of wind to protect you. “IM SORRY Y/N! PLEASE DONT!”

You took off your ring and tossed it to him through the barrier. He was quick to catch it and hold it right in fear of losing it. He had to find a way to get it back on your finger. “No..baby...Teddy Bear please!”

“....I’ll send you the divorce papers....Goodbye Katsuki.”

With that, you walked out of the door, still keeping the barrier alive. Once you started the car, you dispersed of the wind and Bakugou opened the door and ran to your car.

“Y/N wait! Please!” He cried out but he was too late. You pulled out of the driveway and drove off quickly down the street. He watched your car go as he began hyperventilating and tugging at his ash blonde locks. He ran back inside the house with your ring in hand as he looked for his phone. He found it on the kitchen island and quickly dialed your number. Of course, it went straight to voicemail but that didn’t stop him from calling about 50x more.

“This-...this has to be some stupid dream. A fucking nightmare...” he said as he tried to hide in denial. “Yeah...a nightmare. This is what it is...I’ll..I’ll wake up soon and she’ll be by my side in the morning...sleeping peacefully...and I’ll take the whole week off and spend it with her. She won’t be mad, we’ll be happy like we always are. S-She won’t leave me.”

Bakugou had an insane smile on his face with eyes of distraught on him. He clumsily made his way back to his bedroom where he flopped onto the large mattress and tried to get some sleep. He would sleep the whole day away if it meant you’d still be by his side when he woke up. The ring you abandoned was held tight in the palm of his hand as he held it close to his chest. His sobs overcame him but did aid in his journey to slumber. Eventually, he knocked out and a smile of bliss adorned his face as he assumed you would still be there in the morning.....oh how wrong he was.

The very next day, he woke up at 5:30 like he always did and quickly looked to your side of the bed. It was cold and empty. He was lonely. The exact same feeling you got everytime you woke up without seeing him for the past 6 months.

6 months. You’ve been married for 4 years and together for 8. Out of those 8 years, Bakugou spent 6 months neglecting you..and now...he lost you.

He stared at the empty space and bawled his eyes out like a baby as he screamed. He got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Maybe you were cooking breakfast! You weren’t. Kitchen was empty. He ran to the living room! Maybe you were just watching some TV and reading a book, looking all cute and domesticated like you usually did. No, you weren’t there either. Bakugou checked every room in the house and when he couldn’t find you..he snapped.

His heart beated at a rapid pace as he trashed the entire house. Breaking windows, flipping desks, smashing furniture. He used his quirk to create blasts and burn marks into the walls and floors of the house. He did everything to get his frustrations out. The entire time he shouted and cried as rivers of tears flowed down his cheeks.

When he was done, he sat in the middle of the destroyed living room, laying his back against the flipped couch. He sat with his knees scrunched up as he hunched over, staring at the ground. His nose and eyes and basically his entire face grew puffy and red. His hair was a mess and so was he. Silent tears continued to drop, but his throat was too dry and hurt far too much for him to make anymore noise. However, he did fight through the pain to say one final thing:

“What have I done?”

A/N: hi cubsss! So a lot of you may know that my very first post, writing piece, and short story (He’s Lost) was created around angst, a breakup, and the fact that the triggering point was Bakugou physically hurting Y/N. I’ve been thinking about it and I HATE MY WRITING IN THE FIRST POST! It was terrible! Why tf did y’all like it so much?😭 And so, I’ve created a new piece revolving around the same elements, sorta as a way to check my progress. I hope you enjoyed!

ALSO!!! If you guys like this enough, I’m willing to turn it into a small yandere short story if you Cubs are down for that. Let me know and I’ll make it happen! Love you Cubs! See you next time🧸💗

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Two. Jackbox Shenanigans

warnings: swearing word count: 2.6k (not including pictures) behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

Y/n flinched awake, startled by the sounds traveling from the kitchen. Once again, the frosty air pricked her skin, trying to convince her to not move, to stay in bed under the warm blankets. Despite the feeling pulling her into her bed, she rubbed her eyes and sat up, grabbing her phone from her nightstand. Texts from Karl flooded her screen and she replied as she took her comforter off her mattress and wrapped it around herself. She pattered to the source of the noise to find her roommate was making food.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Naomi asked, eyes wide with concern as she looked at Y/n. "I dropped a pan."

Y/n, who was observing the world through one squinted eye, shook her head and she sat at the counter in the kitchen. "No, I should be awake anyway."

"You're usually awake much earlier. Late night?"

Y/n nodded. "George streamed and we all talked for a little after."

"Oh, yeah, I watched his stream this morning..." she started, eyes focused on the food in front of her but Y/n still caught the mischievous glint in her roommate's eyes.

"Of course you did," Y/n laughed through a yawn. "That's your lover."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you gave me his number he would be."

"He doesn't give it to many people. I just barely got it and I've been friends with him for a year. I'm pretty sure Karl doesn't even have it."

Naomi groaned, though Y/n knew it was a joke... for the most part. She got another text from Karl, and consulted Naomi for a second opinion.

"Should I post this?" Y/n asked, lazily holding up her phone with a picture on the screen. Naomi squinted as she looked back over her shoulder. "Karl keeps yelling at me too."

"Yeah! That's a cute outfit. Make sure to credit Karl or he'll yell at you for that as well."

"No chance I'm doing that."

.

Incoming FaceTime... karol <3

Y/n hit accept and held the phone up to make a face at Karl. He mimicked the position. "Hello, sir."

"Hello, ma'am."

"What are you doing?" she asked him, walking to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her comforter dragging on the floor behind her as it continued to protect her from the cold.

Karl got distracted and started messing with something out of the camera view. "Um, trying to figure out what to do for my stream tonight. What about you?"

"I'm waiting for you to give me a fit check!" Y/n yelled. Karl quickly looked at the camera and smiled. He set his phone down on his desk and ran backward so his whole body was in frame. He posed awkwardly a few different ways before running back and resuming his position.

"Yes!" Y/n hyped with a mouthful of toothpaste. "Let's go, Karl! Karl with the old man sweater!!"

He giggled. "You're the one that told me to buy it."

"Because it's sick. Doesn't mean it didn't belong to an old man before you."

Karl pouted before his face lit up. "Guess what. I met a girl."

"Oh?" Y/n cooed. "Where? Do you have pictures? Is she cute?"

"She's Jimmy's new cameraman. Camerawoman. I don't have pictures, and yes. She's very cute." His cheeks turned red and Y/n smiled, flipping off the bathroom light and heading to her closet. She threw her comforter back on the bed and tried to pick out an outfit.

"Come on, bud, elaborate. What's her name? Have you asked her out yet?"

"You don’t get to know her name, I don’t want to jinx anything. Plus, you’ll just look ‘Mr Beast crew’ and find out anyway. Also, no, I haven’t. I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate her because I have not said a single word to her. I get so nervous when she's around I freeze up and just like... act weird. And then as soon as she's gone, Chris freaking roasts me so bad."

"Aw, I can teach you how to flirt if you want!"

"Yeah, okay," he scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"What's with the attitude? I'm great at flirting."

"No, you're not. I watched Gogy's stream last night."

"What does that have anything to do with anything?"

"I heard the way you spoke to Dream."

"What?!"

"You have zero game, Y/n. Absolutely none. Zilch, if you will."

"Yeah, because I wasn't flirting with him?"

"Not successfully, at least."

"Karl, what?" Y/n laughed but she was so confused. "No part of me was trying to flirt with anyone in that stream."

"Oh, come on," Karl groaned. "Don't do this again. Don't pretend to not like a guy and then cry to me when you're wack ass attempts don't win him over."

"Karl," Y/n started, looking directly at him. "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about. I wasn't flirting with him. I do not like him."

"I'm just saying, you talk about him a lot. Like, you always panic when he interacts with your posts because you're scared he's going to DM you right after. And you gush about him a lot."

"I do not gush. I admire the hard work he puts into his videos but I talk the same about him as I do with George and Sapnap. The only difference is I'm friends with them and not Mr. Minecraft. He's intimidating, that doesn't mean I have a crush on him."

Karl stared for a moment, trying to read Y/n's expression to detect any lies. "You'd tell me if you did, right?"

"Karl, I tell you everything. I'd tell you if I murdered your family." They both laughed. "It's impossible to hide anything from you, you're my best friend."

"Okay, sweet, but please don't murder my family, just to be clear."

"I won't. I love your mom too much."

"Well, how was meeting Dream, then? Despite apparently not being in love with him?"

"It was cool. Terrifying because it felt very forced but the four of us hung out on the call after George ended his stream and he was much more relaxed."

"That's true. Aren't we all?"

"Not you! You're the exact same person on and off camera. Just a little ball of giggles."

Karl giggled which made them both laugh more. Suddenly, as if he completely forgot until that moment, Karl sat up quickly and yelled, "What am I going to do for the stream?"

Y/n shrugged. "See if anyone wants to play Jackbox. Chat always loves those and it's relatively easy to throw together last minute. You just need to find people that are free to play."

"Genius. Who should we invite?"

"We?"

"Yeah. It was your idea, you have to play."

"But, I've never played! And I barely know all your friends so I wouldn't get half the inside jokes. I'd be a boring addition."

"Please? They're your friends too! You just talked to Sapnap and George for four hours yesterday and George was the only one playing anything. That's friendship if I've ever seen it."

"But... others.... like literally everyone besides Sap and George...."

"Things like this are how you get to know them better. Besidessss, you're never boring."

"Fine, I'll play."

"YES!" he shouted. "Okay, who should we invite?"

**********

**********

Y/n huffed and scooted her chair closer to her desk. She pulled up Discord and hovered over the voice chat everyone was in. An overwhelming number of voices chaotically spoke over each other as soon as she joined.

"Oh no," she mumbled.

"AYYEE!!" a voice yelled, the green bubble lighting around Quackity's name confirming her suspicions.

"Aye," she said back less enthusiastic. "Hi everyone."

"She's here!" George cheered.

Y/n could hear Sapnap huff. "Finally. Geesh."

"This isn't even your stream, calm down." Y/n's eyes scanned the names on the left to read who else was involved in tonight's games. She had suggested a few people to Karl but wasn't sure about the final list. Besides the boys who had already greeted her were BadBoyHalo and Dream.

"Hello, Bugsy! It's nice to meet you! I'm BadBoyHalo."

Y/n smiled widely at his voice. "Hi, BadBoyHalo! Nice to meet you too."

Her eyes slowly traveled to the last name on the list, which had yet to greet her. She wasn't bitter, but she was curious why he hadn't said anything yet. The boys hyped up him talking about her so much but she had yet to feel that energy from him. She picked at the bottom of her hoodie, eyes darting between the names as they lit up when someone spoke.

"Is Dream still AFK?" Sapnap asked.

"I think so," Bad replied.

Maybe that's the only reason he hadn't said anything. Y/n felt stupid for thinking it had anything to do with her.

"He's probably coding something or something like that," George teased.

"Haha nerdy ass man," Quackity cackled.

"Language."

"Don't you also code shit, George?" Sapnap called out. "You're probably helping him test something after this, huh? As Quackity said, nerdy ass man."

"You know what, Sapnap? I'm not sure I like your attitude all that much."

Y/n smiled. Despite feeling nervous, she was already having fun just listening to everyone talk. The real nerves would kick in when they were live in front of tens of thousands of people and she would have to be funny.

A message popped up in the general chat, notifying everyone that Karl was joining the voice call soon so they shouldn't say anything bad.

"Everyone say something weird," Quackity directed.

Discord dinged and Karl's name joined the list on the side. "AAAHHHH-!" he started yelling over everyone to let them know he was here in case they were saying anything bad. With his luck, they were going to say stuff anyway to mess with him.

"So, yeah, that's how I lost my virginity," Quackity said as if he just finished a story.

"To a prostitute?" Sapnap added quickly. "Wow, I never thought you... oh Karl!"

"Language!" Bad gasped.

"What the..." Karl laughed loudly. "What did I just join?"

"Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry," Quackity apologized, which was hard to make out since he was laughing so hard, surprised at what Sapnap added to his joke.

"Bad, you can't say language about a prostitute," Sapnap defended. "That's really rude of you. Maybe it's a little unconventional but they're just tryna make some money the best way they know how."

George laughed with Quackity as Bad sputtered. "I-I said language about what Quackity said!"

"What, virginity?" Karl asked innocently and Bad yelled again.

"Bad hates people who have had sex!" Y/n called, causing Quackity to laugh loudly.

"Bad! How could you?! That's so messed up!"

"Wait, guys, is everyone here?" Karl asked.

"Dream isn't. We don't know where he went."

Karl groaned and started typing something, presumably yelling at Dream to join.

"Let's goooo! We're popping off!" Quackity started saying, stalling. "We're popping off!" George joined him, becoming absolute fools to keep the chat entertained.

"Okay, he's here!" Karl said. "Everyone's here!"

"I'm here, I'm here, sorry. I was... yeah, sorry," Dream stuttered out.

"Welcome back, Dream!" Bad chirped.

"Hello!" he replied. Unexpectedly, his next greeting was directed at Y/n. "Hi, Bug."

Y/n instantly got shy for no discernable reason. She blamed it on his voice and its ability to manipulate emotions any way he wanted. That and she was getting attention from someone first. "Hi," she squeaked back, hoping the contrast of her icy hands would cool her face enough to focus on the game.

"Bugsy, you are adorable," Bad stated simply.

"Sapnap! What did you just send me?" George asked loudly, and just like that, the attention was off of her and she could breathe again.

"What?" Sapnap feigned innocence.

This was going to be a long game.

"Let's play!" Karl decided. "Should we warm up with some Quippy?"

Y/n focused intensely on her answers, silently hoping the others would find her funny.

"Oh my gosh," she mumbled as everyone else finished writing. "Y'all, I'm about to get Quiplashed so hard. Don't make fun of me."

"I seriously doubt it," Dream said. "You can't possibly be worse than George at this game."

"Shut up, we always-  it's like 3 am my time. I can't, like, think of things 'cause my brain isn't functioning."

"Yeah, that's why," Sapnap teased.

"Surreee," Dream said.

The first round wasn't too bad. Y/n was in 5th place but she got quite a few laughs so she didn't care too much about where she stood. She got a notification from Dream on Twitter as everyone laughed at one of Quackity's answers.

Y/n looked back at her screen and saw the new prompt and answers. She read them quickly as everyone was laughing and with a few seconds left to choose, voted for the one on the left. It was funnier anyway.

She loosened up substantially after another round, and she knew it was mostly because Dream had reached out to her. Something about him comforted her and made her feel safe, which warmed her heart.

"Bugsy! What the hell, that's so messed up. You're so messed up," Quackity yelled, laughing at the answer on the screen. They were playing Survive the Internet and her comment got taken way out of context, just as the game intended.

"Oh my gosh!" Karl cackled loudly. "Bugsy, I didn't know you felt that way. Oh my gosh? They're just kids?? Bugsy out the gang?"

Y/n hid her face in her hands and laughed. "Noooo!! Wait I never knew- I didn't know I was ever in the gang?"

"She really said, 'infant children? slaughter them all'," Sapnap joked.

"You know, I think you'd get along really well with Technoblade," Dream added. "Though his specialty is orphans, as it appears."

"No, no, no, whoever wrote that heading is SO messed up!" Y/n defended, rereading the heading that made her comment look bad. She knew it was a game but all the attention on her was making her embarrassed. "Who would think to put that?"

"Everyone cancel Busgy!" Karl yelled.

"Karl, no! You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"I don't know how I feel about my best friend killing children..."

"Karl!!"

"Nooo," Bad protested softly. "I like Bugsy. Don't cancel her."

"Everyone vote!"

The article with Y/n's name turned out to be Dream's. "Dream! What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled, causing him to wheeze loudly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wanted point."

The whole night ended up being like that. Y/n had a lot of fun and by the end, she felt a lot more comfortable with all of them. Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap were loud and very high energy while George and Bad were quieter. Dream was half and half, sometimes matching Quackity's volume and sometimes going a while without saying a word. Overall, Y/n had a lot of fun and hoped to let back in the gang in the future.

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A/N: WOOO PART TWOOO!! Hope you guys enjoyed this part! Also thank you so much for all the love on the first part!! I did not expect it to get as much attention as it did!!!!!

we clearly haven’t got to dream and yn being close yet bc they literally met the day before this but i added a small little dream/yn moment :] pls let me know how you liked this part!!!!!!!!!!!! 

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan

[pies-writes-and-more]

I hate that I love you p. 13

13. I hate you

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Epilogue 

Warnings: annoyingly persistent dude shows up this time, but not for long so don’t worry! probably some swearing too, and a first time writer’s SMAU so might be awful lol

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

A/N: how are we already done this fic omg... i won’t lie to yall, I finished the majority of the chapters within a few days cause I was so excited to write haha. But thank you so much for everyone who has kept up with this series and has interacted with me about it! I love interactions so never feel like you can’t interact okay? :) 

Anyways! Onto the story! More written things this time cause you know, we can’t have a big finale and a confession that needs to be said over a text (or at least i don’t personally like text confessions so here we are lol) Enjoy :)

Tsukishima groaned internally as he thought about what to type next. This was the moment he had been waiting for all week. You were finally talking to him, even if it was over text. He didn’t want to mess this up and have your name never pop up in his notifs again. But what would he even say? 

He wasn’t even really sure what happened, how he ended up here waiting for the nurse to bring him an ice pack. He knew the gist of it but the details were still a tad hazy.

“Doesn’t matter how much she rejects me! I’m going to keep trying! Girls like that, you know. If you start slacking off, she’ll just start ignoring you!” The guy had practically yelled across the courtyard in Tsukishima’s direction. It wasn’t that it really pissed him all that much off. It was more the way the guy was talking about you that got under Tsukishima’s skin. “She’s just so beautiful and so smart, she’d make the perfect girl to have on my arm! I don’t care how many times she says no, Y/N’ll be mine eventually!”

Before Tsukishima even knew it, he had a fistful of the guy’s shirt in his hand, glaring down at him, “Stop talking about her like she’s some sort of prize. Besides, how old are you? Even a toddler can understand what NO means.”

Maybe Noya and Tanaka had been passing through and Yamaguchi had called for their help, or maybe they just decided to jump in, but before he knew it, Tsukishima felt himself fall back. Noya and Tanaka had both thrown him aside (neither of them meaning to, they just had a lot of adrenaline and wanted to get up in front). Even though Tsukishima told Y/N he didn’t really hit his head, he could remember the pain surging through his skull. His head was killing him.

Did he black out? Or was he just missing pieces? Tsukishima thought back to the moment and frowned. All he could really remember was the pain and then suddenly, you were crouched next to him with that worried look in your eyes. Honestly, he thought he was dreaming because you were sitting there right next to him, holding his hand and touching his face. 

“Tsukki, are you okay?” You had asked him, helping him sit up. He felt his cheeks flush in that moment, realizing what had just happened. Tanaka and Noya were still yelling at the guy, not even realizing they had practically thrown Tsukishima across the courtyard. 

“OH SO YOU THINK YOU CAN TREAT GIRLS LIKE SHIT HMMM???” Tanaka had screamed.

“IF YOU SO MUCH AS LOOK IN Y/N’S DIRECTION WE WILL COME AFTER YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW THE POWER OF SECOND YEARS?” Noya had added in, the two of them making the best intimidating faces they could manage.

“We should get you to the nurse’s office,” you had told him and before he knew it here he was. He could remember leaning against you as the two of you walked but other than that, it was all a blur.

“Here’s an ice pack, try to rest okay? No volleyball for at least a few days too,” the nurse was telling him and he just nodded. He hadn’t even gotten another word typed out before she had come back and now he was going to have to face you without really knowing what to say.

“So?” You looked up at him in anticipation and Tsukishima wasn’t really sure what you were asking about - his last text or his head.

“I’m fine,” he stated quietly, holding the ice to his head. “I don’t think I have a concussion but I can’t play for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled nervously, eyes darting away from his. This had been because of you. You felt the guilt fill you up - if you had just gotten the guy to leave you alone in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe you should’ve done what Bokuto and the others told you to do and talk to the school’s administration about it. But it seemed like such a trivial thing to complain about.

“Oi,” Tsukishima interrupted your thoughts, nudging you. He could see that guilt written all over your face. “Stop it. It’s not like you hit me or anything.”

“Yeah well, but it’s not like I didn’t want to,” you huffed, frowning up at him. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a moment, both of you waiting for the other to bring up the topic of anticipation. “So... are you going to explain your last text?” You finally asked, a ball of nerves sitting in your stomach. 

Tsukishima bit on his inner cheek, thinking about all the things he had wanted to say to you for the past week. “I’m bad with words when it comes to how I’m feeling,” he stated quietly. “I’m good with facts. I know for a fact that there are so many things about you that I hate.”

Wow great start to the conversation, you thought to yourself, your heart falling a bit. The two of you hadn’t spoken in a week and this is how he wanted to do things?

“Let me finish,” he grumbled, seeing the discomfort in your eyes. “I hate how you click your pen when you’re nervous for a test, I hate that you doodle on my notes in class or that you draw smiley faces on my hand when I’m not paying attention. I hate that you text me at 3 in the morning to ask me questions about the homework or just to ask me how I am. I hate the fact that you refuse to put your books back in your bag and that you’ll just carry them in your arms because we both know you’re clumsy and that you’ll end up dropping something. I hate that you’re always the loudest person during my matches, I hate that I can pick you out of a crowd and that when I can’t see you I get worried.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a little as he continued, his eyes now starting to avoid yours. 

“I hate that you get along with all my teammates and I hate that they make you smile and laugh. I hate that you and Bokuto are good friends and that he makes you happy. I hate everything about you because everything you do just makes me like you more.”

You blink in confusion... was this.. supposed to be some sort of twisted confession?

“I hate that you were so childish that you ignored me for a whole week for being an asshole and that it’s been the most miserable week of my life. I hate that I heard your voicemail more times than your actual voice this week because you wouldn’t pick up the phone. I hate seeing that you hadn’t sent me a text message back, I hate that I wake up at 3 in the morning just in case you reached out to me. I hate that there were no smiley faces on my arm and no doodles on my notes, I hate that I wasn’t able to help you pick up your books or study with you. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you from the time that I wake up, to the time I go to bed, I hate that you’re in my dreams every single night and I hate that no matter how many times I’ve dreamt about saying these things, it’s never the way that you deserve. I hate that you’re effortlessly perfect and that every guy who walks by you knows it too,” Tsukishima’s hands balled into fists as he thought about it all, scoffing a little at himself. 

How desperate, he thought to himself. He hated how absolutely cheesy he sounded. But he couldn’t stop now. “I hate... I hate everything about you because everything you do just makes me fall harder for you. I hate that I love you, Y/N because no matter how much I want to hate you, I just can’t.”

Time must’ve stopped right then and there. Or else that’s what it felt like. Tsukishima had finally said the words that you were waiting for the whole time you’d known him. Tsukishima... loved you? Everything you felt was... mutual?

Maybe time hadn’t stopped at all and you were just staring at him in complete shock, because Tsukishima was shifting awkward in the empty hall the two of you were in, waiting for some sort of reply out of you. “O-Oh!” He recovered quickly, his whole face turning red, feeling like it was you waiting for him to say something else. “A-And I’m sorry. For being an ass.” His eyes dropped to the ground, holding his head in shame, “I know I was being a dick about Bokuto. And after the first game you came to. I thought that the whole jersey thing was going to make you realize how I felt but you just thought it was to freak out your stalker and...”

“I only thought that cause when you gave me your jacket, you told me it was for the plan,” you interrupted quickly, biting on your lip nervously. “I didn’t... I didn’t want to believe that you would really give me your jersey cause that would mean that everything Yamaguchi said was true.”

Tsukishima looked at you for a moment, a small scowl on his lips, “What did Yamaguchi say?”

A small smile started to play on your lips, “That Tsukishima Kei had a big fat crush on me. Who knew?” You couldn’t help but giggle, watching as this tall glaring bean pole started to go pink with embarrassment. There was such a relief off of your shoulders, knowing that he was admitting how he was feeling and apologizing. 

“S-So you knew?”

“Of course not,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I figured Yamaguchi just told me that because he was encouraging my crush on you!” The words slipped from your lips before you could slap a hand over your mouth, eyes widening as you look up at him.

There was that stupid smirk on his lips, growing bigger as he tilted his chin up in pride, “So Y/N Y/L/N has a crush on me huh?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes a little in embarrassment, “Pfft. What? Me? No way.”

Tsukishima smirked, catching your chin in his fingers and forcing you to look at him, “Go out with me,” he demanded softly, pressing his forehead against yours gently. “For real this time.”

Your whole body was going hot with how he was looking at you, the soft but teasing look in his eyes was driving you insane. You hadn’t ever seen him look at you like this before, “O-Okay,” you mumbled quickly and Tsukishima smiled. A real genuine giddy sort of smile.

Before you could embarrass yourself further, you shove his shoulder gently and pull away, walking towards the exit, “But if you’re ever that much of an ass to me ever again, I’m never talking to you again!” You yell over your shoulder, trying to pretend like your heart wasn’t just leaping out of your chest. 

It didn’t take long for Tsukishima’s long legs to catch up with you, casually opening the hallway doors for you, “Fine.”

“Don’t think you confessing to me makes up for anything, I’m still mad at you.”

“What? Why! I said I was sorry! I thought you said it was ice cream or words! And I apologized!” His scowl was evident, even though his heart was fluttering. Everything he wanted, it was finally happening. 

“Well you were a real asshole so you’re going to need at least words AND ice cream.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But you loveeee me.”

“Maybe.”

“Just wait till Yamaguchi finds out your whole confession was about you hating me,” you mused as the two of you walked and Tsukishima groaned a little. With how sassy Yamaguchi was getting, he was never going to hear the end of it.

“I will literally buy you any kind of ice cream you want, just don’t tell him,” Tsukishima mumbled, not wanting to admit how embarrassed he would be if his best friend scolded him over his confession.

“No way,” you laugh, shaking your head with a huge smile. “Tsukishima Kei finally confessed to me and I need Yamaguchi to know that he did it in a very Tsukishima way.”

The blond boy just groaned but he swiftly grabbed your hand and stuffed it in his pocket with his own. You tried not to seem so surprised and quickly started looking in every direction but his, not wanting him to notice how nervous you were getting every time his thumb would slowly make a circle along your skin. The two of you walked back to your friends, chatting away the tension that had been so thick before, as if it was a totally normal day for you. As if both of you weren’t thinking I’m the luckiest person alive.

Taglist (Let me know if you’d like to be added to my permanent Haikyuu tag :) Thank you so much for all the love everyone!)

@random-fandom-girl-24 @intergalactic-mango @celestaire @lucyheartfilias-wife @owlnymph @lucyrocks86 @pinkhairedsapphic @mariachiii @aurumk @sana-li @mirikusashes @earphonekiyouka @why-000 @devilkittymusic @420-uwu @scphiredrafts @fantasycantasy @its-the-aerieljeane @laninasinnombre @trashy-simp @thisnoodlewritesao3 @darling-daydreaming @yourmajestythegreatest @so-lo-stuff @ibimyeon @satan-ruler-of-hells @ahiae @kpopandstarwarswhynot @imnisneedshercoffee @ramen-maker @chelly-ilysmiwdfy @animeanxiety @kaylig02 @upwardscomma @jeppiet @simplyyyy @ashtheticals @calumsfringe @kac-chowsballs @dreamsandregrets @flamingosis @loving-unicorns106 @darkvadeeer @mykuronekome​

[stutterfly]

Tricks of the Trade | MYG (M)

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

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

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

Genre: Fluff, humor, smut, oneshot

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

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

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

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

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

“You’re not going to find any.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You took the last one?”

“I had a craving.” He shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what I think you need?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck?”

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was not fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that.”

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

“Y/N. Look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why you, of all people?” he wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you biting my fucking nails again?”

“Yup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Whoa, what the fuck is that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again?”

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

“Wow. Got a boner, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" he echoes back.

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

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

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

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

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

"Still hard?"

"Like your nipples," you grumble.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first.”

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

"These pants are horrible," he complains.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck! Yes. Please. Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need me to stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” you prod.

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

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

“Yoongi…” you finally whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean… you sucked your own dick for me. You don’t owe me anything—”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I want to try it,” he says, wriggling his hips beneath you. “Fuck. Me.”

“This is still so weird,” you say with a giggle, your eyes rolling back into your skull when the tip of your cock glides against his clit. “Ah…”

The pair of you pause and slowly repeat the motion. You can feel how wet he is and instead of being embarrassed like you would be in his place, you find it incredibly hot.

“Do it again,” he pleads, spreading his legs further apart to allow you better access.

You look down, pressing your thumb into the base of your cock and carefully glide the tip across the folds between his legs. He hisses an expletive between his teeth when you drag it past his clit and begin rocking your hips back and forth.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers through frantic panting and sloppy kisses.

You feel a cramp in your thigh and pull back to nurse the ache. He whines when you slink away from his body, missing the friction on his clit already, although he’s satisfied enough when you circle one of his breasts with your tongue and take a nipple into your mouth. You press light circles into his clit with the pad of your middle finger until you can feel his legs flexing around your body like you’re not giving him enough. His fingers dive beneath yours to tease the swollen bud.

“Let me feel,” he pants. “Let me learn where to touch.”

You carefully guide his movements for a minute while treating his other nipple to the pleasures of your tongue. He seems to get the hang of stimulating himself pretty quickly so you turn your attention towards his thighs. You sink between them and begin kissing the sensitive skin beside his folds. His thighs twitch when you trace circles around his entrance with your tongue. You briefly pause to inspect your fingernails, making sure none of them are a jagged mess from the way he’s bitten them. When you’re satisfied with your inspection you peek up at him.

“You want to try my fingers first?” you ask, feeling envious that you can’t be riding three of them to the knuckle right now. “I can show you how my mouth feels too, though I doubt I’m an expert on that.”

“I don’t care about that.” He lifts his hand so he can peer down at you from between his tits. “I’ll take your mouth anywhere you want to give it.”

He watches as you flick your tongue across the sensitive, slick bundle of nerves. He bucks his hips as you clamp down and roll your tongue back and forth over it. His pretty painted nails look so good digging into your ebony hair. It’s not long until you dip a finger inside his cunt, teasing until you’re bobbing it in and out at a decent pace.

“Oh…” he says, as if he’s surprised that the experience is so pleasurable. “Shit, that’s good. Fuck. I’m gonna....”

You push another finger into him, curling the longest digit as far as you can to try and reach the g-spot you know is hiding nearby. When you finally get it he grips your shoulders and arches his pelvis off the ground like he’s committing to a new yoga routine. You recognize the stiffness in his limbs, the involuntary tremble of his thighs beside your head, the heaving of his chest and the frantic nonsense spilling out from his lips. You focus your energy on his clit, replacing your mouth with your hand since you have more confidence bringing about his climax this way.

His hips stutter and you know he’s riding the line. It’s a little bit more difficult to find that perfect rhythm when your hand isn’t in it’s normal position. The way he sucks in a breath to release his needy whines almost makes you feel guilty. It’s not like you’re trying to edge him but you’re not able to keep that pressure as consistent as you’d like.

“I’m so close,” he pants. “But I keep losing it. I’m sorry.”

You’ve been there plenty of times but you’re desperate to make him cum.

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Rub it, baby. You know what feels good,” you whisper, shifting your attention to fingering his cunt. You don’t call attention to the pet name, but it feels so natural falling from your lips in this moment. You hope he doesn’t mind.

In an instant his fingers replace yours on his clit and he’s building back up. His thighs quake and his back arches off the mattress one more time and you know it’s coming. He’s about to reach his peak.

He takes a sharp inhale and where you expect the loud wails you would normally make while riding out your high, there’s quiet shuddering and softy breathy moans that linger in the air around you. He grabs your wrist with an ironclad grip as soon as he rides the last wave and his sweaty thighs fall limp around your face. You’re grinning like an idiot as he pulls you by the hair towards his lips, desperate to feel you, to taste you. His tongue is exploring every bit it can, trying to steal the essence from your mouth.

“Mmm. I want to taste that sweet pussy every day.“

“Do you… Still want me to fuck you?” You’re really trying not to sound hopeful but you can’t stop thinking about it.

He smirks and wipes the sweat from his brow. “Let me feel how well my cock fills you.”

“Do I need a condom?” you ask. “Are you clean?”

He laughs like it’s an absurd question. “That’s up to you. I haven’t had sex in four years. I’m clean. If you’re not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Four years is a long time,” you mumble, suddenly feeling pressure perform well. “I have an IUD so if you’re okay with it…”

“I wanna know how it feels.”

As soon as you line yourself up with his entrance you’re sweating like you’ve never sweated in your entire life. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re hoping it doesn’t suck. It doesn’t take a genius to sense your nerves. He reaches out to cup your stubbly jaw.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just… tell me if I’m hurting you,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his.

You let the tip dip inside and descend into his cunt slowly, knowing the thickest part of your dick follows the tip immediately. The stretch must be delicious. You’re distracted by how tightly his walls are clamping down on you. It’s tempting to bury yourself in his warmth as quickly as possible but you show restraint. His breath hitches as he adjusts to your girth and you freeze. Has your body ever taken someone as thick as him? You can’t recall. Probably not.

“Keep going,” he coaches, grabbing at your ass to press you further inside until you’ve bottomed out.

Your head hangs down as you try not to let the sensation overwhelm you. His lips find yours, helping you climb back down from the high. You slowly move your hips back, already missing the tight warmth hugging you. It takes a few more slow thrusts until you’re pumping into him at a relatively steady pace.

“Sorry if my rhythm isn’t good. I’ve never done this,” you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“You’re doing fine. This feels amazing. What are you talking about?”

He could be lying to make you feel better but it’s working. He puts his hands by his head to indicate he wants you to hold them. You immediately twine your fingers in his and press the back of his hands into the mattress.

“Yeah? It feels so fucking good, Yoongi.”

“It does... But I know you can fuck me harder than that, Y/N.”

You can already feel the tightness you’re holding back, a pleasurable pressure building in your pelvis that warns you of the imminent orgasm you can only stave off for so long. You can’t help but slam your hips in harder and faster at his request. The sound of balls slapping against skin fills the room and he moves his hips to meet yours. His breathing grows labored but you know he’s not about to cum again. You’ve never gotten off from penetration alone and there’s no way your sloppy performance will cause that miracle to happen now.

“There you go… Fuck. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna pull out,” you warn, feeling like you’re testing your own limits with every thrust.

“Already?” he teases, digging his pretty fingernails into your back.

“It feels… too fucking good, Yoon…” You wish you had more stamina. “Gonna cum on those pretty tits.”

“Yoon?” He chuckles, now distracted by the way his tits are bouncing with each slap of your hips.

“Just wait until I’m back in that body riding your cock. See how long you last then.”

“Is that a promise?” he questions, cupping your jaw to kiss you.

“...Yeah...”

He can feel the difference in your pace, in the shivers of your body. You’re about to cum. He turns your face towards the mirror so you can see how fucked out your reflection looks. It’s intoxicating seeing Yoongi’s body so needy and desperate.

“Look at you. You’re not gonna make it to these tits.”

“Fuck…” you bite your lip and try to slow your pace but it’s too late. The tension and pressure bursts from the head of your cock like a confetti popper on New Years. With a few, strong pumps you spill your seed into his warm cunt. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cummmph--”

Yoongi brings your lips back to meet his to muffle the unexpected sounds of your orgasm.

“Oh my goooood. You’re so loud,” he teases when you finally come down, but you’re too spent to refute him.

There’s another twitch in your dick and you lay there with your mouth open, trying to regain sense of your faculties. He intentionally clenches around your softening length and every muscle in your abdomen flexes.

“Too much!” you shriek, pulling out and rolling off of him in one swift motion.

You let your sweaty back hit the soft duvet, trying to recover from the sensation. He laughs, angling his legs towards the mirror. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he spreads his legs and swipes at the cum dripping from his cunt, pushing it back inside with his fingers and releasing a soft sigh. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen yourself do, and you’re not even doing it.

When he’s satisfied that he’s pushed it all in, he lays down next to you. The two of you stare at the ceiling in silence for at least a minute. Is it awkward or was it just that good? You can’t tell the difference right now and it’s making you anxious. He covers your hand with his and looks over at you with a warm smile.

The anxiety-driven words come out before you can stop them. “You should pee. You don’t want a UTI and neither do I.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

About an hour has passed in awkward silence as the two of you conduct research on what the fuck happened to you. You haven’t talked about what you both did in this bed, but the smell of sex still hangs in the air. As soon as you both put your clothes back on it was like a switch of modesty came back into play, and you feel too shy to point it out. You don’t know what to say, so you’ve just been clicking on every link you possibly can to fill the silence as he scrolls through articles on his phone nearby. It’s uncomfortable and you hate it.

“I think I have something, maybe,” you say, scrolling through the 90s looking website you’ve been exploring for the last few minutes.

Yoongi scoots closer to you and furrows his brow as he squints to read the sloppy banner at the top of the page. “The Unsolved?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Conspiracy theorists are insane, I know, but—”

You reach for the trackpad at the same time and your fingers brush, causing you to freeze mid-sentence. You stare at the keyboard for a second and chew on your lip, allowing your eyes to dart towards your periphery without moving your head. When he doesn’t say anything you clear your throat and scroll with the trackpad.

“But, look.” You point to the two embedded images triumphantly.

“Necklaces.” He cocks his head to the side and reads the text underneath aloud. “‘An Amulet of Discord is used by an Agent of Chaos to spread mischief and debauchery in the universe. It can be split into two halves to displace unsuspecting victims from their bodies. A glamour will protect the Amulet once the ritual is complete, making it impossible to see or touch. In order to reunite the victim with their body, the Agent responsible must be compelled to remove the glamour and mend the fragmented pieces into one.’”

“Last night I had one of those chincy friendship necklaces on and I definitely did not put it on. It looked a lot like the ones that weird guy tried to give us at your shop yesterday. I tried to get it off but it wouldn’t budge. Then it disappeared.”

“This sounds insane,” he muses, mulling over the information.

“Did it happen to you too?”

“I thought I saw one briefly, but… It was gone when I looked again. I thought I must be seeing things.”

“It’s gotta be it!”

Yoongi furrows his brows as you scroll back up to the navigation, not sure if he fully believes in this explanation. “What’s an Agent of Chaos anyway?”

“I guess they like… cause mayhem for fun? I don’t know, the description said something about pleasing a patron that they get their powers from.”

“Like a god?”

The thought makes him uneasy. If a god of chaos exists then surely there are more out there. If gods exist but they do nothing to balance out the cosmic injustices of the universe, are they really gods or more like demons? He feels like he’s about to have a full meltdown over something he can’t understand or control.

“Maybe. It doesn’t describe them at all. But…” You give him a reassuring smirk. “It does give instructions on how to trap an Agent. We just need a little more space and some chalk. We’ll draw him out, trap him, then make him undo his magic. What do we have to lose?”

His heart feels lighter when you look at him so softly. “Makes it sound simple when you say it like that. Also, slightly insane.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The website was very lax on defining the ‘discordant energy’ needed to summon the agent, so the pair of you have been improvising. Yoongi suggested moving into the store for the space you needed, but you have a feeling he’s just anxious about it being closed for the day. It’s fine. You don’t want to constantly be thinking about the sex neither of you are acknowledging right now. Yoongi is brushing his teeth after drinking a bottle of orange juice.

You grimace at him. “You really think that’s gonna do it?”

He stops mid-brush, his mouth full of foam and garbling his words. “It’s better than doing nothing. How are you helping?”

You give the sunglasses rack a slow spin. “I drew the sigil on the floor. If we’re gonna trap him we need to be ready. Were you able to find anything else?”

He clicks on your laptop a few times before hurrying into the back room. He reappears a moment later, wiping at his mouth. “That was gross.”

You watch him concentrate on the screen, trying to forget the way it felt to kiss him everywhere he would let you. It’s hard to focus on the task at hand when there’s this feeling lingering in your uneasy stomach. Are you doomed to never speak of the things that made your heart flutter?

“ A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say .”

You tell yourself you imagined those words, that you wished them into existence. You turn the rack of cheap sunglasses again. Even if you knew what you were looking for, you wouldn’t find it with the way your mind is wandering. You look back at Yoongi, debating whether or not you should speak up about the uncertainty in your gut.

“Keepsake!” he says excitedly, running out from behind the counter. “It says they often leave something behind so they can return to observe their work.”

His sudden movement makes you jump and loudly smack your hand against the stand in a panicked attempt to look inconspicuous. He pauses to look at you and raises an eyebrow but you’re already laser-focused on the rack again. Desperate to hide your growing embarrassment you pluck a pair of sunglasses that is strikingly similar to the ones you’d seen the man wearing that day.

As soon as you put them on you inhale sharply. “What the fuck?”

“Hmm?” Yoongi wonders. “What is it?”

“There’s something written… on the fridge.”

“What? Where?”

You lift the glasses up to be sure you can’t see the letters scrawled on the glass without them. The message disappears. Once you place them back on the bridge of your nose they practically glow, beckoning you towards them. You push past him on your way to the drinks section. “Here. It says… Now you have… specs appeal?”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? It was a solid pun.”

The pair of you look towards the sound of the stranger’s voice. Instead of forming words you exclaim a sound of surprise. He looks confused.

“You’re going to need to speak clearly. I’m not sure I understand your language.”

“You! You did this!” you shriek, taking a step forward.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the man says with a puff of his cheeks. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It’s not nice to accuse people of things. Have I done anything? Are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

A haze of golden dust spreads across the room like twinkling stars. As you blink and rub at your eyes you yawn and feel a sudden urge to lay down.

“Mmm. I am sleepy…” you admit as you sink to your knees.

Yoongi looks down at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You laugh and lazily grapple with his leg. “Come lay down. Please? It’s made out of feathers.”

Yoongi watches you close your eyes. Suddenly your body falls limp at his feet. He crouches down to cradle your face in his hands, your name an urgent plea on his lips. “Y/N. Y/N wake up.” He pinches your cheek but you don’t respond.

“She wants this to be a dream. Don’t you?” The man takes a few casual steps forward.

“No, I don’t,” Yoongi growls. The threat sounds odd coming from this body, tone too meek to pass for intimidating. He glares at the man after reluctantly tearing his eyes from your sleeping form. It may be his body on the floor there, but you’re trapped inside it. “Wake her up.”

“She’s tired!”

Yoongi rises to his feet and shields your unconscious form as the man creeps closer. “Don’t take another step. You’re going to regret it.”

“Threatening me? Hah… You’re pretty bold, considering you’re not really in a bargaining position. Spunky! I’ll give you that. Say, I’m curious. What do you think I am anyway? I’ve got a bet going and I know I’m gonna win because I’m right, but I need proof. So if you wouldn’t mind speaking into this...”

Out of his pocket comes a microphone. He holds it out like he’s giving the most intense interview of his life as he awaits Yoongi’s response.

“You’re… Some kind of trickster.”

The man sucks his teeth and shoves the microphone back in his pocket. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. So much for my bet… Come on. Don’t you think I look more like a god?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you work for one,” Yoongi muses, “but you sure aren’t one.”

“Wooooow….” The man sighs in disbelief. “The disrespect! At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that. I— ”

The stranger’s body seizes up as he takes another step forward. ”Ow!” His body convulses for a second before he regains his faculties. He looks down to find the sigil scrawled in chalk around his feet. Try as he might to scrape the markings off with his heel, his shoes are unable to scuff the powder. He furrows his brows and throws his hands in the air.

“Really? Are you kidding me? An integrity prison? Where did you learn this?”

Holy fucking shit. It worked, Yoongi thinks. He’s never been more relieved in his life.

“Wake her up,” he repeats calmly.

“I was gonna,” the man pouts, slumping into a cross-legged sit. “But now I really don’t want to. Would it kill you to have manners? Look at this. You’ve put me in a difficult little pickle here.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a jar full of dill pickles. He fishes one out and takes a loud, crunchy bite. “I was just having a little fun and now I’m stuck here, doomed to this ugly little space.”

Yoongi crosses his arms, quickly losing patience. “Stop being dramatic.”

The man glowers at him and crunches on the last bit of the pickle with slow, loud chewing.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh. “Please, stop being dramatic.”

With a surprised nod, the man gulps down the pickle and hops to his feet. “Well, you said please, at least. Was that really such a big... dill?”

Right as Yoongi groans, the man snaps his fingers and flexes his pointers into finger-guns. You immediately yawn and sit up.

“What happened?” you mumble.

Yoongi offers you a hand and you take it, rising to unsteady feet. He wraps a hand around your waist to support your weight. “You took a nap but you didn’t miss much. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, the haze lifting from your sleepy eyelids. You gasp as your eyes focus on the man trapped between the center aisles. “Huh! We got him!”

“Yeah, yeah. Time to celebrate. You trapped me. Good job.” The sarcasm in his tone is evident, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Confetti falls from above your heads, showering the pair of you in glitter and shiny streamers with the flick of his wrist. “Now let me out.”

You’re blown away by the bizarre moment, springing forward and out of Yoongi’s grasp. “Magic? Then, are you really… a god?”

The man pats his pockets frantically. “Finally! Someone with a sense for my greatness! Ugh! I should have been recording. Damn! Where’s my microphone?”

“Gods don’t get trapped with chalk,” Yoongi says, folding his arms and tapping his toe impatiently. “This guy is an underling. Hey! Don’t get too close!”

Your mouth hangs agape in awe as you approach the man. Scrutiny must be new for him because he seems stunned. That wide-eyed expression is erased quickly enough when he strikes a heroic pose, planting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. His pecs and shoulders seem to inflate when he inhales, causing them to swell into well-defined muscles.

“Oh.” You blink a few times, entranced by the sudden transformation. You reach your hand out as if to touch the meaty bicep practically bulging from his sleeve. “Who… What... are you, really?”

“Y/N!” Yoongi’s hands enclose around your waist, pulling you back into him just as your hand is about to break the barrier.

The man’s muscles deflate with his held breath as he bursts into a fit of squeaky laughter. “Oh! I almost had you!” He wheezes a squeaky sound through his inhale that you can only guess is laughter. He clears his throat. “My name is Jin. Matchmaker…” He holds up two matches in his hands and sets them alight with a flick of his wrist.

“Lover...” He winks and the matches disappear. In their stead are two roses. He tosses them at the two of you but when you go to catch yours it disintegrates.

Yoongi catches the disappointment on your face and thrusts the flower towards you, hoping it will restore the shine to your eyes. You give him a big, cheesy smile as you dust glitter from his hair.

“Ah… And! Balancing agent…” He stands on one foot as a seesaw appears to lift him into the air. He jumps down triumphantly with a bow. “At your service.”

You clap enthusiastically until you look over at Yoongi, who looks less than amused. You then nudge him with your elbow until he gives a solitary clap.

“What’s a balancing agent?” Yoongi asks dryly.

“We restore balance to the world. Things that are too uniform need a little chaos. Things that are too chaotic need to be put back into line. In our down time we like to have fun in our own ways. Me? I like to set people up.”

“So you’re not an Agent of Chaos?” you ask, disappointed that the conspiracy theorist page that led you to this point isn’t exactly the fountain of knowledge you had hoped for. There’s so much you don’t know.

Jin looks at you, clearly confused. “I mean some people call me Cupid, but I guess you can call me that. Has a nice ring to it. My powers are more inclined for chaos.”

“Cupid?”

“What? I’m a romantic. I can see the strings of fate! Also I may have a penchant for mischief, but that’s neither here—” He points at his feet. “Nor there!” He points at the shelf beside you which causes a bag of chips to burst, sending its contents everywhere.

“Hey!” Yoongi yells. “Are you going to pay for those?”

“Yoongi…”

“What?”

You can tell he’s irritated but clearly this guy can do a lot more than pop a bag of chips from across the room. You don’t want to fall on the bad side of his magic but you don’t exactly trust Yoongi’s mouth to keep you in Jin’s good graces.

“Stop being rude,” you whisper through clenched teeth.

He scoffs and answers you in a hushed tone. “How am I rude? He’s making a mess!”

“Then we’ll ask him to unmake it.” Your irritation heightens the volume of your voice to the point where it’s barely a whisper anymore.

“He’s playing with us. I’m through asking.”

“Yoongi.”

“Y/N.”

Jin laughs. “See, this is what I mean. Fate is practically screaming for me to help you. Chaos is just an added bonus for this boring town.”

You both look at him and ask in unison, “What?”

He points to the both of you. “Look.”

As you turn back to face Yoongi you’re shocked to see a pale blue orb glowing above his head. “Huh? What’s that?” You reach out to touch it but your hand passes through it without any change.

“You have one too,” he mumbles, squinting at the way a thin line seems to stem from it. Then he sees another. And another. It looks like a shiny, glittering web that splinters into a thousand different directions. His brows furrow as he inspects the tiny threads. “Do you see them?”

Your gaze follows his pointer and suddenly you can see the branching strands too, not just yours, but his as well. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming. It’s terrifying. Seeing the trepidation written on your face he silently beckons your attention to his finger, which is pointing to a thread that is golden instead of a pale blue hue. It’s the only one of its kind in the intricate glittering lattice between the two of you. You follow his pointer as it traces the path that stems from your orb until it gets closer to his and then you take over, finishing the path with your finger to the point where his orb engulfs the line.

“What is it?” you wonder aloud.

“A string of fate,” Jin answers with a wistful sigh. “It’s always exciting to see one, isn’t it? It means you’re soulmates.”

“Hah. Bullshit,” Yoongi responds, waving the air with his hands as if to disrupt the strings. They remain intact. “You just like causing mischief.”

Jin puffs his cheeks and scowls. “I can lie about a lot of things, but the strings aren’t one of them,” he huffs. “Why would I need to do that? What’s more unpredictable than true love slapping you in the face?”

He makes a motion with his fingers and sweeps them towards Yoongi.The compulsion rises and you’re powerless to stop it. Your hand moves of its own accord and lightly slaps Yoongi across the face. He looks betrayed as he rubs his cheek.

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t me!”

The tingle in your arm causes it to move back towards him in a gentle swoop. Your wrist is limp as it smacks into his chin and rubs back and forth as if to comfort him. Jin bursts into a fit of laughter as he breaks the compulsion.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, stomping up towards the circle around the stranger. “Just change us back and you can go on causing problems elsewhere.”

“I can’t,” Jin answers simply, crossing his arms. “The charm will break only under specific conditions.”

“And those are?”

Jin shrugs with his bottom lip protruding as he frowns. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Of course it is.” Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back towards you.

“There are some things you can try. Staples of the trade.” Jin notes some dirt beneath his fingernails and begins cleaning them. “Number one. Have you tried talking about your feelings?”

Yoongi’s gaze settles on yours and it’s like you can feel your heart stop. Say something. You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t come so you snap your jaw shut and stare at the glitter on the floor.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yoongi says as he folds his arms across his chest, trying to not get distracted by the breasts he inadvertently touches. He decides to drop his hands to his hips instead.

Jin rolls his eyes. “Okaaaay... Number two is filling the chaos meter. Go crazy. Do the unexpected.”

“I don’t know what we’d do,” Yoongi admits, pacing around the circle.

“What if we kissed?” The voice is soft and sweet.

He turns to face you, a combination platter of surprise and confusion. “But we did.”

“Reeeeally?”

Jin’s laughter makes him feel like a fool. He was convinced you said it, despite knowing your voice is not your own right now. How stupid could he be, walking right into that? He squeezes his eyes shut a moment and then focuses his attention on the captive.

While Yoongi is distracted you’re working a pack of mentos out of their packaging. You kneel down and twist the cap off one of the liters of cola placed on the endcap you. The hiss of the carbonation makes Yoongi shift attention.

Your name on his lips is half a warning, half a question loaded with uncertainty. You open another bottle beside it before he can get close enough and drop mentos into each. The liquid erupts into two fizzy fountains that reach the ceiling and spill back down to the floor. Yoongi takes off his hat and grips his hair like he wants to tear it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Filling the meter?” you answer meekly with a shug, stepping back from the puddle on the floor.

Jin roars with laughter. “Oh man. There is no meter, but that was delightful.”

Yoongi grumbles and goes back to the counter, grabbing the laptop and sinking down behind it to hide from the pandemonium of this situation.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter as you pass Jin. You quickly sit next to Yoongi on the floor.

“It was a joke!” Jin calls. “Come on, don’t leave me alone here.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as his fingers rapidly tap the keys. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know.”

“What are you looking for?” you whisper.

Yoongi listens for a minute to the grumbling of the man trapped in the circle nearby. “How to trick a trickster. I have a feeling we need him to undo it but he won’t come out and say it.”

You sigh and press your chin against his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

He looks over and tips his head down to nuzzle his cheek against you. “I know.”

“Huh?” Your vision diverts to a shiny blue can beside him. “Are you serious?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” He picks it up and quickly downs the last sip, the Hot6 Logo shining back at you in mockery. “I found it earlier and needed a pick-me-up.”

“Did you find more?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

“But…” you pout. “I wanted it.”

He holds the empty can out to you. “It’s grown on me.”

“I’m about to die without the sweet taste,” you whine, shaking the can to make sure there’s nothing left.

“You’re so obnoxious.”

He rolls his eyes and cups your jaw, leaning in to press his lips against yours. You don’t protest when he dips his tongue past your lips to rub against yours. You can taste remnants of the drink on his tongue. If Hot6 wasn’t your favorite drink before this, it is now.

“Better?”

“Maybe. Still not sweet enough.” You giggle.

He takes the opportunity to kiss you again, crushing your mouth against his in a deeper kiss. You’re practically melting into him as his tongue glides against yours, moving in a rhythm that you now crave. It’s so easy to forget everything else, where you are, what’s happened to you. He moves to straddle your lap, grinding down intentionally as he grips the back of your neck. He knows you’re half-hard already and fuck if he doesn’t just want to have you again. You’re the only thing that feels real right now.

He pulls down the zipper of the hoodie you’ve given him to allow access to his neck. It’s not until he allows you to latch onto the sensitive flesh there, with his hands buried in your hair, that he notices the security mirror. You’re so hot. He wants to be in you so badly but he’ll settle for you being in him right now.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

Suddenly he notices the other person in the mirror. Jin is sitting cross-legged on the floor in his invisible prison, resting his chin on a hand as he stares back through the reflection with eyebrows raised. Yoongi quickly clears his throat and climbs off of you. You blink in confusion at the disruption until he points at the mirror and then you cast your gaze at the floor.

“We should take care of this.” He runs his fingers through his hair to compose himself before placing the cap back on his head and focusing his attention back on the computer.

“Wow, you almost went there with me watching. That would have done it for sure,” Jin says, breaking into a grin.

“Come on!” you shriek, popping up from behind the counter. “Please, just change us back.”

“I told you. I can’t,” he repeats firmly. “I actually don’t lie as often as you seem to think I do. Maybe you should try having sex. They say the soul leaves your body for an instant when you reach the finish line, you know. It can’t hurt. Ohhhh wait a minute...”

He jumps to his feet after watching the guilt flash across your face. Your eyes seem to dart around him, but never land close enough to his. Blood rushes through your ears, drowning out all the sounds that aren’t your heartbeat.

He smiles wickedly. “Oh my god, you already did. I mean, I get it. Who wouldn’t be curious? It’s only human to wonder. Oh, to be human… Seriously, have you tried talking about your feelings?”

You turn towards Yoongi and crouch back on the floor, disappearing from Jin’s view. He steps on his tiptoes to try and see around the counter before settling back on the security mirror. You can’t help but focus on his nosiness.

“Yoongi. I... Look. Can we go in the back? I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Jin clicks his tongue and sighs as the pair of you cross the store and slip into the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’ You breathe a sigh of relief when Yoongi locks the heavy door behind you. He bites at his nails--your nails as he waits for you to say whatever you need to. You take his hands into yours.

“Things are weird right now and not just because of this,” you hold up his hands in yours. “Are you regretting everything now?”

He smirks and gives you a small laugh. He slinks away to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t regret anything. I mean what I said. I care about you. I just… I get embarrassed, I guess.”

He’s embarrassed? You didn’t think he was capable with how blunt he normally is. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m insecure. Sexy, right?”

Time seems to slow as he draws near. There’s a lighthearted laugh on his lips before they meet yours. It feels like the first time all over again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you throw your arms around his neck, desperate to get closer even though you’re already pressed up against each other. You lean into him as you gasp in his hot breaths between kisses. To counteract the weight you’ve pressed against him, he pushes you backwards. Your arms fly back to catch yourself as you stumble but you knock into a freestanding shelving unit. Cans of soup clatter to the floor and roll off in various directions as Yoongi steadies the rack to keep it from falling.

He sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder in defeat. “We should focus.”

You whimper and will yourself to move the pair of you away from the wire rack. You run your fingers through your hair and attempt to compose yourself. Everything feels like a dream. It’s hard to think with him consuming the majority of your thoughts. You clear your throat, hoping your mind will also clear with the action.

“Hey,” he says, fingers on the latch. He pauses to lock eyes with you. “It might have seemed like the heat of the moment, but I really mean what I said. So tell me you’ll stick around after this is done?”

You run up and lace your fingers in his free hand before giving it a firm squeeze. “Promise.”

As he opens the door Jin jumps like you’ve startled him with your presence. “Whoa, I thought maybe you’d murdered one another. I heard a loud bang.” His gaze drops to your entwined hands. “What? Did you finally embrace destiny?”

“Destiny. No destiny. It doesn’t matter,” Yoongi says calmly as he squeezes your hand. “This could all be a dream. But we’re here now. We care about each other in this moment. That’s real. That matters.”

Jin does a slow clap while grinning from ear-to-ear. “Wow! It usually takes people a few days, maybe a week!” He looks at his wrist as though he’s wearing an invisible watch. “It’s been, what, a day? You did good.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help us now?” You perk up immediately.

“I mean I think you’ve helped yourselves. You look happy. You’re comfortable, right? Can’t you just let me go and keep existing like this?”

When he’s met with silence he sighs. “Ahh, well there is one more thing you can do, I guess. Have you tried checking your pockets?”

His suggestion is met with eyerolls from the both of you. While nonsensical, the unexpected has become a staple of your current state of existence and you feel you owe it to yourself to at least entertain the possibility. Your fingers slip into your pocket and explore the ridges of the hard object nestled against the fabric. Excitement courses through you as you pull your half of the locket from the confines of your sweatpants. Dumbfounded, Yoongi sticks a finger into his tight jeans and fishes the other half of the necklace out of his pocket.

“Hah, I can’t believe you didn’t even look,” Jin says with a laugh. “Now put them on, place the pieces together and say ‘Me Hoy Nimoy.’”

You exchange a skeptical look with Yoongi but you both comply and blurt the phrase soon after linking the pieces of the necklace together. You hold your breath, waiting for something spectacular to happen but disappointment soon floods your lungs. Just as you’re about to speak up, Jin clicks his tongue.

“Ah, close your eyes. It won’t work if you’re watching.”

Yoongi grumbles. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Hey, some magic is shy. Follow the rules. Do you think I’m just making this all up?” he pouts.

Your answer comes in unison with Yoongi’s: “Yes.”

Jin looks hurt as he clutches a hand over his heart and staggers backwards. “Woooooow. Well, just do one more thing then. ”

A devilish grin soon replaces the expression and his squeaky laughter fills up the store. He points at the pair of you with both fingers and wags his fingers in circles. You feel compelled to turn in place. Yoongi matches the uneasiness in your gut with the panic in his eyes. You both spin in circles away from one another. Once. Twice. Three times. Just as you’re about to complain about the nausea churning fresh waves in your belly, Jin waves his hands inwards.

You’re lifted into the air. The toes of your sneakers leave behind squeaky skidmarks of rubber on the tile as the pair of you are dragged forward. Jin cocks his head to one side and examines you with an expression of stone. For a split second you’re terrified but then he breaks into a grin and snaps his fingers. His thumbs and index fingers form the shape of a heart as he holds them out and you drop to the floor.

Yoongi reaches out for your shoulder. There’s a soft tremble to his fingers as he pulls you close to him. When you look upon his visage you can already see his jaw transforming, a thin stubble growing in along its perimeter. Every time you close your eyes to blink more of his face has morphed back into his own. You look down at your own fingers and watch as the nails narrow and elongate. A glossy pink hue returns to them but the polish looks slightly less finished with the way Yoongi has gnawed on the edges all day.

Suddenly Yoongi is frantically scrambling to his feet, kicking off his shoes and working the zipper down on his jeans. Everything is quickly growing far too tight. The hoodie you’d given him just barely covers his crotch as he stands up straight. He looks over at you with a relieved sigh and cups your jaw.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your chin. It takes all of your self-control to keep from licking it as it grazes your lip.

You nod, eyes falling to the necklace dangling over his sweatshirt. As soon as you reach out to yank it off, the trinket disappears in a puff of purple smoke with a clap of Jin’s hands. He holds them in place like a silent prayer just below his chin, a strained smile staining his face just above his fingers.

“So, here’s the thing. I’m gonna need you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Fix my store first. Clean up this mess you’ve caused,” Yoongi says while taking a step in front of you.

Jin’s bottom lip protrudes into a pout as he eyes the puddle of cola on the floor. “I didn’t do that,” he complains under his breath.

It’s incredible how close he came to freedom, incredible and frustrating. His magic may not be able to touch or alter the circle, but you almost freed him with your ignorance. If the liquid had run close enough to seep into the chalk, he would be somewhere far more sunny and beachy right now. He’s earned a vacation for this milestone of success.

“Fiiiine,” he concedes.

With a snap of his fingers the store is spotless once more. While Yoongi inspects the area of the tile floor previously coated in cola and glitter, you glide your foot over the circle of chalk and break the seal that binds Jin to his current location.

“Finally…” he sighs, side-stepping out from the invisible barrier. “You’re welcome, by the way. Invite me to the wedding, okay? Don’t forget the little people who helped you on the way. As for me... I’ve got a date with the pearly beaches of Accord.”

He swirls his wrist in the air and the pair of ugly red mirrored sunglasses appear on his nose just in time for him to adjust them. He lowers the specs to give you a wink before snapping his fingers. Before you can even call out for him to wait, he’s gone in a puff of purple smoke that quickly dissipates. You’re left in stunned silence to contemplate your existence.

What are you supposed to make of everything?

As you stand there on the cusp of a mental breakdown, soft, velvety petals brush against your cheek to steal your attention. The scent of the flower overtakes your senses as Yoongi uses it to tickle your nose. You find him smiling back at you, almost like he’s too shy to speak, but then he does.

“Weird day huh? Can I have my pants back?”

You hum thoughtfully, making sure the shutters of the shop are still shielding you both from the outside world. “Would you mind if I wanted to get back in them later?”

He snorts, holding back a laugh. “Been waiting to use that all day?”

“No, I just thought of it right now. Aren’t I impressive?” you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him. You shimmy out of the sweatpants and leave them pooled on the floor, doing your best to walk past him with grace and seduction.

“So impressive.”

He offers an amused laugh when you bend over to pick up the garments he was so quick to discard when his transformation reverted. You spare a glance behind you to see if he’s looking at the way you so blatantly flaunt your ass. He’s in the middle of dragging his bottom lip through his teeth when your eyes steal his attention.

“Something wrong?” A wicked grin belies your innocent tone.

He exhales a long breath and shakes his head, turning his attention to pulling his pants up. “Impressive isn’t the word. You’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying you wanna make out?”

He’s quiet as he takes off the remainder of your clothes to reveal a muscular chest riddled with goosebumps. It’s hard to hide how your grin spreads wider as he approaches with them in hand. You’ve had dreams like this: he’s shirtless, asking you to take off your clothes so he can fuck you in his store. Right here with your tits against the cold glass of the fridge. It would be a dirty secret only the two of you would know and you’d think about it every time you’d come in for your energy drink.

You slowly lift the hoodie from your own body, trying to appear as alluring as possible. You make sure to arch your back as your breasts briefly catch in the fabric and then drop against your ribs, completely exposed to the chilly air. Much to your dismay he’s quick to spin away from you and mutters a “thanks” instead of naughtier offers.

He’s aware you might mistake it for rejection, but he’s hoping you don’t see the way his fingers tremble. It’s incredible how scared he feels being back in his own skin. The intimacy of your connection left a void behind that’s quickly filling with disquiet. He feels incomplete without a piece of you with him, lost in the vast emptiness of himself. How can he feel such need for you? His chest aches with the possibility that he won’t ever feel whole again. The bravery that possessed him while piloting your body has waned. Now that normalcy is somewhat restored, he has the chance to start processing the events of the day. A part of him begins to embrace the panic he’d previously pushed down and his confession replays in his mind as though he’s just spoken it.

It was a bold move, especially given the situation. It could have ended horribly. He puffs out his cheeks and holds his breath, trying to remind himself that it didn’t. It’s okay to let go of the anxiety over it, but he still feels so uncertain. Even turned away from you and fully clothed, he’s never felt more exposed and vulnerable. He tries to hide the burning of his ears by running his fingers through his hair and shielding them with his arms. He has to bring himself back or else you’ll be talking him down from a panic attack and he doesn’t want you to see him like that.

Stupid. Stop throwing yourself at him. You struggle to put on the tight clothing as quickly as possible. Tears threaten to fall as you awkwardly wiggle your jeans back and forth up your thighs and over the swell of your ass. You make sure to swipe at the corners of your eyes before clearing your throat to signify you’re fully changed. He spins to face you but everything he means to say gets lost on the way to his mouth. He freezes, overwhelmed by how beautiful you are even in this shitty lighting, and how thankful he is to be able to see you through his own eyes.

His heart pounds at the confines of his chest like it needs to burst from within. There’s a small burst of adrenaline that plumes from the explosion of butterflies in his stomach. It fills him with the courage he needs to close the distance between you with a kiss, the kind of kiss he’s been dreaming of giving you for months. Right here in this store.

He loves how eager you are to reciprocate when he tangles his fingers in your hair. He holds you there like you’re about to melt away in a puff of smoke. Your lips are so soft, so sweet, so warm pressing against his. His tongue rolls over yours, desperate to keep tasting and feeling more. You grasp behind his neck and dig your fingernails into his shoulder as he deepens the kiss. When you roll your hips towards him as a subtle test for determining his hardness, you can feel him smile against your lips.

“Not in the store.” He gives you one more chaste kiss and pulls back just enough to allow you both to breathe. He adjusts one of the boxes on the nearby shelves. “You already drive me crazy. If we do it here I’m going to be thinking about it every time I’m stocking shelves.”

“Yoongi…” you whine. “Please tell me you’re keeping it closed for the day.”

He sighs as he plucks his phone from the counter to check the time. “Might as well.”

“Can I walk you home?” You chew on your lip as you wait for his response. What you wouldn’t give to spend the night with him.

Unable to hide the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he nods his head towards the exit. “Why would we waste our time?”

Your heart sinks into your butt, thinking this must be it. He changed his mind after all. He hates you. There’s no doubt about it now. All you can manage is a squeaky, “Hmm?”

He rests his palm on the handle of the door and he presses his lips into a thin line, looking wide eyed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so adorably hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. “You live closer.”

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The comforter at your back is soft and cool to the touch as you scramble to settle yourself against the pillows. Yoongi wastes no time wiggling off his sweatpants and climbing over you. The sound of your panting mingles with his as he hovers above you with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. If the hurried ascent up the stairs wasn’t enough to have him gasping for air, the makeout session just inside your front door definitely has him devoid of oxygen. This still feels like a dream, but it’s one he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.

"How do you want it?" he whispers. He glides a finger up your thigh and lightly traces circles around your labia.

Your mind travels back to your earlier experience of coming undone and suddenly your stomach is doing flips.

"Just like this," you answer. "I want to feel you just like this. Do you remember where to touch?"

He nods, skimming his parted lips over yours while he places his finger over the hood of your clit. "Like this, right?"

"More pressure," you plead, working your hips in circles to coach his movements.

He does as you instruct and clamps his mouth over yours in a futile attempt to find relief for the aching need to be inside of you. He grinds himself against your side, his cock rubbing against your soft, heated skin as he tries to remember the exact motions needed to elicit enough pleasure to make you cum. He doesn't have to wait long until frenzied, weak moans are vibrating against his mouth so he turns his attention to your neck. He wants to hear how fucked out you are. He wants to hear how badly you want to cum. He wants to feel you pulse around his fingers.

As he plunges a thick finger deep into your cunt, a pathetic, desperate sound escapes you. "Oh, fuck."

"Feel good?" he mumbles into the hollow space between your neck and shoulder.

"Please. Please. Please. Please," you whimper incoherently, bucking your hips to meet each thrust of his finger. You can feel his cock rutting against your side and all you can do is imagine that he's pumping it into you instead of his fingers. "Oh fuck, Yoongi."

His lips twitch into a smile as he feels you tighten around his finger. He kisses your neck and sinks a second finger carefully inside you. You allow your head to fall against the pillow and bite your lip to try to contain the drawn out needy groan already helplessly spilling out of you. So close. Your back arches off the mattress and he wishes he wasn't so concentrated on the motions of his hands right now because he would absolutely love to be tonguing your perfect tits.

He pants against your skin and looks at them longingly. Maybe he can manage it? He's determined to use what he's learned about your body to help you cum, but not yet. You can't help but whine at the loss as he repositions himself, which breaks the sightline you had on your orgasm.

"Yoooongi... I was close..." You whimper when he abandons your cunt entirely to press your tits together. His mouth is hot as it clamps down on your nipple, giving the peak a hard suck before dragging it through his teeth.

"I know. Wanna make you cum with my tongue," he murmurs into the supple flesh.

He swipes his fingers along your cunt and swirls the wetness over your clit before bringing it to his mouth. You can already see how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. The low moan that rumbles its way from his throat has you rocking your hips up against his pelvis as he settles between your legs. Your silent grinding isn't enough of a confirmation. He wants to hear you say it.

"Can I go down on you?" He blurts the shameless question while alternating between kissing both of your breasts and only pauses to meet your eyes.

You want to feel him everywhere but mostly you want his mouth on yours while he’s balls deep inside you. You don’t even care if you cum because being with him like this feels good. Being with him fills your heart with giddy hope and your stomach with butterflies. Being with him is enough. You want to tell him that but instead you nod and whimper out a pathetic “please.”

He wastes no time dipping his head down between your thighs to press the flat of his tongue against your clit. A low growl escapes with his exhale before he puckers his lips to kiss the soft skin and breathe in the heavy scent of your arousal. You’d be embarrassed if his tongue didn’t feel so magical. It glides against you so effortlessly, bringing pleasure with every quick flick against you.

Your hands dive into his hair and you start rolling your hips to grind his face harder against you. He doesn't seem to mind though. In fact he seems to embrace the motion, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you in as closely as possible. If you weren't so preoccupied with the orgasm building just below the surface of the place where his tongue keeps hitting then you might worry that he's suffocating himself. Right now all you can focus on is the pleasure threatening to break you open and leave you spilling a million curses into the air around you.

"Yoongi. Fuck. I'm close," you warn, as if the frantic way you've twirled his hair around each of your fingers isn't enough to tip him off. Do you really think he can't feel the shaking of your thighs in this moment?

He hums a sound like he doesn't hear you, but he doesn't let up at all. He keeps his pace steady for you as you approach your end once again. Your nails scratch against his scalp but he doesn't mind. He actually really likes the way you're losing your mind over the simple things he's doing with his tongue right now. He can't even begin to imagine the pretty sounds that might spew from your lips with practiced effort but he knows he can't wait to hear them.

Suddenly your hand flies up to pound the wall behind you and you announce the wave of pleasure coursing through your clit through the use of a loud string of expletives. He can feel the way your flesh pulses beneath his tongue and he revels in it. You ride his face so well. You can ride it for as long as you want as often as you want. He wants to tell you that but he also wants you to ride out your high for as long as it lasts, so he lets you buck your hips and raise your cunt off the bed. He lets you thrash around through the sensitivity until you're finally pushing his face off with both hands.

"Good? Do you need more?" he verifies, rising from between your legs to deliver a messy, wet kiss to your lips. He smirks through it, knowing he really doesn't need to ask at all to know the answer.

"Cheeky fuck," you murmur, not bothering to even attempt to hide your matching grin against him. "I need it."

"What do you need?" His fingers trail a soft line down your side, reminding you that his teasing nature is simply a front for his caring heart.

"I need you inside me." Your breathing is spotty as you pepper kisses along his jaw. "Like this. I want you to feel me the way I felt you."

It doesn't take long until you're tasting yourself on his lips again. He shifts slightly and you know he's lining himself up with your entrance when you feel the swollen tip of his fat cock nudging at your hole. He's slow to thrust into you. In fact he stills, only giving you shallow, teasing thrusts. He favors letting you wiggle down just a little bit to coax him in. He smiles against your lips and pushes in further, giving you that stretch you were hoping for.

When you suck in a sharp breath he pulls out, but as soon as you whine in protest, he's already carefully moving to slide it back in. The slow stretch has your jaw dropping open and he takes the opportunity to bite on your lower lip. You take the bait and feed him hungry kisses until he’s completely buried inside of your tight cunt. He takes a moment to growl a low sound that has you clenching around him.

“So tight,” he whispers, pausing to curl an arm beneath your head.

He presses the back of your hand against the mattress as he twines his fingers with yours. He drives himself deeper into you with each slow thrust and it feels like he still can’t get close enough. So you raise your other arm above you and angle it until you’re linking your fingers with the ones beneath your head. You kiss his cheek and savor the intimate moment.

When he lazily sinks into your cunt again you crack a smile. “Can't you fuck me harder than that?"

"Mmm." He lifts his head and seems to accept your challenge. His hips pull out slowly and suddenly slam back into you. This sets a new fervent pace that has you squeezing both of his hands. "What do you think? Is this better?"

You do little to actually answer his question and instead offer a slew of swears and moans each time his balls slap against your ass. "Shit. Fuck, fuck fuck. Yoongi..."

"What kind of answer is that?" he asks innocently.

"God, your cock..."

"Mhm," he prods.

"Feels so good, Yoon."

He chuckles. "Yoon... Cute."

"I'll show you cute," you huff.

"Oh?"

You release his hands in favor of pressing your palms against his chest. He pulls out and before you can miss the way he fills you, you're flipping him down on the mattress. You swing a leg over his pelvis and straddle him. It takes you a moment to properly position yourself. You give his length a few pumps in your hand before lining it up with your entrance.

"Careful," he warns, planting his hands on your thighs. "Don't wear yourself out."

You sink down quicker than you probably should. You're eager to make him cum faster than he did for you. The wetness in your core seeps down in translucent trails down your inner thighs. Your own brand of lubricant seems to be enough to keep the stretch pleasurable. Yoongi bites his lip as he gazes down at the way you're bouncing on his cock. You know how good it feels for him, especially with how hard your pussy is squeezing him.

"Don't worry about me."

The sensory overload building in your gut coated with the memory of the unique experience. It mixes with the high threatening to burn its way from your core. You take a deep breath and exhale loudly before you continue. You revel in a slow descent, memorizing every kind of way the stroke makes you feel. Then you begin to quickly draw him in and out of your cunt. The obscene sounds of wet, rapid slapping fill the room.

After a few minutes you've finally got a good rhythm down. Despite the cramp throbbing down your obliques, he's hitting that sweet spot inside you at just the right angle. If you didn't know any better you'd think you're about to cum again. You steady yourself on his chest and trail your hand to his stomach to maintain your balance. Trying to keep the unrealistic pace you'd previously set for yourself is proving difficult, but you swear you're feeling like maybe you're about to crest into the biggest climax of your life. Then again, it could certainly be the biggest letdown now that you're aware of it. Your orgasms have left you for less.

Yoongi knots his eyebrows together in concentration and he reaches down to rub circles against your clit. His fingers are clumsy and new to this angle but they're feather light. He can see in your face that you're chasing some great new high and he just wants to help you achieve it without overdoing it. He knows how shy your cunt is about giving you orgasms so he really wants to do it right. Is this right? He figures you'll tell him if it isn't.

You moan weakly in response. Suddenly, you know it's coming. You can feel it building every time his hips slap up to meet yours. "Oh my fuck."

His abdominal muscles flex beneath your palm and he forces his breaths through his nose as he struggles to keep himself composed. Your cunt is squeezing him so tightly that he knows he's on the brink of his own release but he's determined to help you feel as good as you make him feel.

"That's it. Cum for me again." He tries to coax it with those strong pleas, but his voice is broken with an inhale sharp enough to cut his words.

Both of your thighs are coated in slick sweat. You don't think you've ever felt so fucking wet in your life. He glistens just as much in the dim light so you know between the two of you there's a puddle of sweat soaking your sheets. It's easy to forget how gross or embarrassing it is when the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so well. Right now the only thing that matters is getting relief for this pressure building behind your clit.

Despite the shakiness of his fingers, he's able to coax it out of you. Your trembling thighs feel like an earthquake that's finally reached its peak tremor and you find yourself crying out and bouncing to the rhythm of your spasming cunt. You chant your praises and curses in the same breath. His name is a drawn out breathy expression of gratitude and bliss. As soon as you slump forward to kiss him he takes your hands in his own and frantically pumps himself up into you. He can still feel the involuntary flex of your cunt even after you've clearly expended every ounce of your energy reaching and literally riding out your second orgasm.

"Can I cum inside?" he asks between frantic breaths.

"Well, you're not gonna make it to these tits," you tease with a smirk. You may be spent but you'll always have the energy to give him shit. "Do it."

"So fuckin hot," he mumbles against your lips.

The muffled grunts expelled against your mouth and the slow, deliberate snap of his hips leave you in a state of surreal euphoria. He squeezes your hands in his along with his release to let you know this is real. You're here with him. When he comes down from his high he kisses you gently one more time and pulls back to look at you. You take the break in physical connection to roll off of him and stretch out your aching calves and let the air from the fan cool your skin. The tingling in your legs tells you not to get up right now, as much as the fear of a UTI screams at you to do the contrary. Instead you turn your head towards Yoongi and he smiles at you. Sleep threatens to take you when he begins to stroke your hair.

"If you'd have told me last week I'd feel this close to someone, I'd have laughed at you," he starts in a quiet voice, "but I feel really close to you. I'm glad this insanity happened to us."

"Me too." You can't help but smile back. "I don't want to go to sleep because I'm afraid you'll be gone when I wake up. What if this is a dream?"

"Then I'll find you when I wake up. You'd better find me too."

"What if we forget?"

He grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckles. "I won't forget."

"Promise?"

"Mhm." He closes his eyes, clearly every bit as exhausted as you are. He's quiet for a minute and you think maybe he's already fallen asleep until he peeks out from under his eyelids. "... I think you need glasses."

"What?"

"I was just thinking. I felt like I was squinting all the time when I was you. Maybe that's why it took you so long to see how I felt." He shows off a big, toothy grin.

"Wow that guy really rubbed off on you, huh?"

You smack him in the face with a pillow when you get up.

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The muffin and can of Hot6 sit on the counter, guarded by Yoongi's forearm.

"Wow, you already have my stuff ready? Is this the kind of perk I get for dating the owner?" you wonder.

He rolls his eyes. "Not yours until you pay for it."

"You're so sweet, not eating my muffin this time."

He drags his lip through his teeth and tries to hold back a devilish smirk. "I've found better things to eat, don't you think?"

Your heart thumps against your chest and you do your best to remind yourself that offering to suck his dick behind the counter is not what you should be doing in this situation. But you want it so bad. He watches your internal struggle with raised eyebrows and a smug smile. He slides the energy drink towards you.

"Here. This is on me today. You look a little thirsty."

Your shoulders raise and then deflate with your sigh. "Do you even want me to come back later?"

"What? It's free for you. You should be happy."

"And the muffin? What do I owe for that?"

He mimics your dramatic sigh and places it before you. "It's crazy. Your boyfriend offered to pay for that too."

"He's so generous." You shake your head but it can't keep the grin from your face. "Lots of free stuff today."

"It's a... special for today only. So don't get used to it or anything. But there is one more thing we're having a sale on, if you're interested."

"Hmm?"

"Free of charge, for you only." He taps his lips with both pointers, looking impossibly cute. His charm is devastating, really.

He cracks a smile and you feel yours grow impossibly wider. You lean over the counter and give him a sweet kiss.

"How long does this offer last?"

"As long as you want."

"Forever."

"Forever, it is." He gives you one more quick peck. "I've gotta mop the floor and you're gonna be late for work."

"Ugh. Wanna trade?"

He purses his lips and gives your hand a little squeeze. "Not a chance."

[ambiguousdisorderken]

no you know what i still have not fully processed that dean and cas are in love. they smile when they think about each other, and they miss each other when they're apart, and they make corny jokes when they have sex, and dean blushes when cas compliments him but cas kisses the embarrassment away, and they get angry at each other and tongues get sharp but they will always have each other’s back, and they do domestic chores to pop songs cas adores and dean no-so secretly jams to, and cas strokes dean's hair when he falls asleep on the couch, face tucked against cas' stomach, and sometimes they shower together, and they wear subtle matching t-shirts and not so subtle ones too, and dean feeds cas spoonfuls of whatever he's cooking as taste tests, and their legs intertwine when they watch tv, and they cuddle, and their chats include a considerable amount of heart emojis, and dean wakes up wrapped up in cas' warmth, head on his chest, then finger tracing mindless shapes over bare skin, and they listen to each other's rants intently or tune out completely distracted by the endearingly aggravated face, and fuck how did they get this lucky, and they share clothes, and the wardrobe is fuller now, and they bicker a lot, dean complains about cas not being tidy and cas complains about dean not actually letting him help and always wanting things done his very particular way anyway, and sometimes dean gets very annoying and cas rolls his eyes and is so done with him, but then dean pokes his side and offers an apology that is without a doubt not an apology except it is in the dean winchester dictionary, and cas caves in because every second spent 'mad' at dean is a second wasted, and cas stands in the vee of dean's legs when he's perched up on the counter, and they have lazy sundays sprawled in bed, and they take selfies together, and they slow-dance when they're alone and the right song plays, and sometimes they dance without music because they can and they want to and it's right because it's them, and they are vulnerable with one another, and dean helped cas with figuring out sex at the start because it was intimidating so when dean's body fails to get on with the program and dean gets all red in the face frustrated and whatnot cas reassures him and because he knows dean's feeling bad they watch scooby-doo which has dean chuckling, little spoon in cas' embrace, and they go on dates, they go on dates, they go on dates, and they send each other memes, and they talk about banalities as well as their deepest darkest insecurities and fears, and dean is sure cas' phone is filled with pictures of him doing stupid shit or doing nothing at all, but that's fine because his own phone is packed with candids of cas simply being cas, and cas slaps dean's ass when he wears his short shorts, and he also steals a couple of bites off of dean's pie when they're at diners and dean lets him, and they call each other's bullshit for what it is, and dean gets to dress up his boyfriend husband and definitely checks him out when he's trying on different outfits, and they have inside jokes that make them giggle, make they cackle, and they go on drives together with no destination in mind just the road ahead and their mixtape blaring in the wind, and when cas is upset dean's right there, and when dean is angry everyone knows it's cas they gotta call to make it better, and they celebrate anniversaires and buy each other little gifts that they give out feeling bashful and a bit ridiculous, and they have pillow talks, and dean cooks for cas and cas is dean's #1 sous-chef, and they have coffee together every morning, and dean sits on cas' lap and mumbles sleepy against his temple, and they finish each other's, yes, sentences (and sandwiches), and they get jealous when other people check them out, and cas glares when dean leads on a poor soul but it's not like dean can turn off his innate charm, so he eagerly makes it up to cas later, and they hold hands, and they fight like couples do and there are tears and misunderstandings and painful silences and eventually apologies that are often wordless, a peace offering, but sometimes there's a sincere 'sorry' as well, and cas talks about dean endlessly with other people and dean literally can't shut up about cas, and they whisper things in each other's ears that no one else is privy to, it's just for them to know, and they go on long walks, and everyone knows they're together, they're each other's +1 by default, if anyone tells dean anything cas will know it before the day ends, and if anyone does anything to cas their name will be immediately added to dean's kill list, and they go grocery-shopping together, and they fight over which brand is better, and they get excited about 2x1 promos, and late at night they browse amazon to buy unnecessary crap, and they go on holidays together because they deserve it and the beach has always been dean's sunny dream, and they rub sunscreen on each other's back and dean orders them fruity colorful cocktail drinks and they nap on deck chairs after a quick swim, and they gossip, they talk about other people but keep their judging and criticisms between them, and they touch each other, they touch each other freely, that's dean's hand on cas' cheek, and that's cas' hand on the small of dean's back, and those are dean's arms wrapped around cas' neck and those are cas' hands on dean's waist, and they sit together for hours each doing their own thing, and dean calls out 'hey babe' and cas automatically responds 'yes love?', and cas nurtures both the child and the man in his arms, and cas memorized dean's system for doing laundry and dean is grateful and alleviated, and they eat terrible food together and gain a few pounds, and they try to do the healthy active couple thing but end up quitting because it doesn't really matter so dean eats that extra slice of pizza and cas keeps buying dean's favorite pie from the local bakery, and their bedroom is a safe space for dean's repressed kinks and cas' newly-found fantasies, their bedroom is also where they binge-watch netflix like the couch potatoes they are, and when cas brushes his teeth dean barges in just to take a leak, and they talk casually as they get ready, and they are frequently naked around each other and it's not sexual but it's very intimate and comfortable, and cas winks at dean from across the room, and dean pulls cas by his tie as he says 'gonna steal this handsome fella for a while' and dean cries sometimes but that's okay, and cas cries too but that's also okay, and dean sings to cas, and they have morning breath kisses and toothpaste kisses and coffee kisses and whiskey kisses and hungry kisses, and there are two pairs of shoes by the door and two glasses left in the sink and two towels hanging on the rack and both bedside tables are occupied and their mattress remembers two shapes, and dean worries because cas doesn't take enough care of himself, and dean nurses cas when he gets a cold, snuggling under blankets and checking the clock to make sure the medicine is taken timely, and cas gives dean massages to ease the tension accumulated in his shoulders, and often those massages have a happy ending as they should, and blowjobs are a regular prescription for fatigue and negative moods, and they can be downright insufferable towards one another, but it's a friendly banter, a loving poking fun at each other but it’s only allowed for dean to make fun of cas’ awkwardness and only cas can taunt dean for being so nerdy and dorky, it’s a game of pushing just the right buttons to get a certain reaction, and they also have a routine these days, being retired and all that, and they bask in each other’s company, their favorite pastime is just being together, they are each other’s home, and they care for one another in every way there is to care about someone. dean and cas are in love.

[calqlate]

very specific headcanons of the karasuno first years

view m.list!

— hinata shouyou

showed up to practice with hairclips and hair ties in his hair in his third year. reason being, he was about to leave the house one day and natsu told him to sit down for five minutes so that she could tie his hair and he agreed. so, ever since that day, it's become a routine for him to ask his sister for help to tie his hair.

would also have spare hair ties on hand (yachi most probably loaned a few from him when she forgot her own hair tie)

the most obnoxious bubble tea drinker. he would get pearls in his drink so that he could have a competition with tanaka and noya to see who could spit their boba ball the fastest (daichi had to stop them).

would make the worst wingman alive. like his ideas of getting a girl to fall for you are all from those cheesy ass movies that probably won't work.

the kind to throw a dice to choose which option to shade in for the mcq questions in an exam

— kageyama tobio

definitely slept through an exam once because he genuinely gave up

probably did either tap dancing or ballroom dancing when he was younger and has never breathed a word about it to anyone because he heard someone back in elementary school say that "only sissy boys dance"

as the youngest in the team, his seniors definitely babied him. like if they went for team dinners and had to decide where they should eat, they would ask kageyama what he wanted to eat. but oftentimes he would just shrug and say "i'm good with anything" and then daichi makes the final decision LMAO

super well-versed in skincare and hair products because of miwa (at the mere age of 11, miwa had been drilling all sorts of products into his head the moment she stepped into cosmetology school) so he has a basic skincare routine. he definitely got teased once or twice about it by his teammates but they end up borrowing his products during training camps.

speaking of miwa, she definitely ranted to him about the stupid things her exes have done. sadly, he still has no clue as to how to not trigger women 💀

definitely has the healthiest sleep schedule among all of the first years. he probably sleeps by 10pm and he wakes up at 5am to go on morning jogs before going to school. the first years have a groupchat and they're always unable to reach kageyama after 10pm and he'll wake up to at least 300 messages involving a whole online game the rest of the first years played at 12 midnight.

super uncultured in regards to pop music. the only songs he knows are from miwa's playlist, and he catches snippets of those songs when he's passing by the bathroom and she's showering, or when she's having a karaoke session in her room. one time, the team went to karaoke and asked kageyama what song he knew, and he then said with a straight face, "bad romance by lady gaga."

— tsukishima kei

makes playlists for every single occasion that you can possibly think of. though, the ones he usually plays are his study playlist, r&b playlist, and "how to not murder your teammates" playlist.

secretly a harry potter nerd. like he bought all the books and the merch. he even has a pair of socks for each house. one time, he wore one pair to practice and tanaka and noya could not shut up about it, hence he never wore a single pair to practice ever again.

everyone knows this already, but he's a huge dinosaur nerd. he collects little dinosaur figurines, merch, and even a whole encyclopedia of them. up till he entered junior high, akiteru got him dinosaur-themed gifts every birthday.

owns a little medical kit (you know, the kiddy one), complete with a stethoscope and doctor's coat. when he was younger, he would pretend to be a doctor and akiteru would be his patient. akiteru had to hold back a laugh every time tsukishima said, "you've been a good boy. here, have a lollipop." because his little brother is so darn adorable.

the worst at making friends. before he met yamaguchi, he was pretty much a loner and didn't converse much with others, until yamaguchi just became his friend after the time tsukishima helped him out from the bullies. yamaguchi's the one who asks tsukishima to get lunch together and hang out after school, and tsukishima honestly doesn't mind not having any other friends than yamaguchi.

— yamaguchi tadashi

has just about everything on hand (ie band-aids, hand sanitiser, gummies, sunscreen, tissues) and he's the first years' life saver

reads lots of manga! specifically, shoujo manga. he has a whole collection back at home, and has a whole bookcase for it. the first time the other first years visited his house, they were shocked to see this, but yachi was super psyched about this and thus she and yamaguchi started bonding over them <3

an excellent baker! tsukishima is a sucker for his cookies and always comes over under the pretense of study dates but in actual fact, he comes over to eat his cookies. not that yamaguchi minds, though, he enjoys baking and sharing them with his friends.

collected plushies as a kid. action figures were the norm for other boys his age, but we all know that yamaguchi tadashi is not like other boys. he collected plushies mainly because he couldn't sleep at night (due to the trauma of bullying) and so his mom bought him one plushie, and he got hooked. he has an entire army of them and named them all. after graduating middle school, though, he kept most of them away in a huge plastic box save for that plushie his mom got for him (it's a little brown bear with a bowtie and fur that has definitely seen better days, and its name is hiro).

— yachi hitoka

writes really aesthetic and pretty notes (yk those that you see on pinterest)! she colour codes them too, and she owns a variety of pens, highlighters, and the lot to do just that.

speaking of her insane stationery collection, she's also drawn to those with fruit smells and specifically buys those for special use, like writing cards and stuff. and she also buys lots of washi tape with the cute prints on it to decorate her cards.

back onto the topic of her notes, she writes really fast and neatly! like the teacher could be rapping some longass answer without writing it out and she's copying it down, word for word (well, to be fair, she uses some abbreviations here and there) and not missing a single lexicon. we stan!

always carries a stick of lip balm around and is happy to lend it to anyone who asks

deathly afraid of playing any sort of video games, including otome games. she's scared of picking the wrong options that lead to the bad endings, so she searches for tips, tutorials, walkthroughs, and gameplays before attempting to play. (bonus: she screamed in pure terror upon getting jumin han's bad story ending 2)

[amjustagirl]

Bonus outtake from ‘a  sea of flowers in bloom’ 

a/n: featuring miya atsumu’s thwarted baby-making attempts, so naturally be warned of somewhat non-explicit mentions of baby-making. 

also, next chapter’s out tomorrow!!!! 

Miya Atsumu never knew making a baby would be this difficult.

Shino was an accident - a happy one, caused by forgetting the cardinal rule that a course of antibiotics easily renders birth control useless, and her conception seems so easy compared to this headache of calculating fertile periods to the day and working out how to make sure his professional commitments don’t clash with ovulation windows.

“We were younger then”, Kaiyo reminds him with a rueful smile. “Our bodies and reproductive material were probably in better shape -”

“Is that some roundabout way of sayin’ my swimmers ain’t up to it anymore”, he interjects with a pout.

She holds her hands up with a laugh. “I didn’t say it, you did”, and he groans as she continues her lecture about how to maximise their window of opportunity.

All in all, it’s a very complicated business.  

It’s made worse by the number of distractions that pop up every damn time he tries to knock up his wife. Tonight seems like the worst of it all.

First, Shino refuses to be tucked into bed until he manages to convince her that there are no monsters under the bed by promising that he’ll burst into the room with his patented Miya monster spray (just a spray bottle full of water and a drop of lavender essential oil, courtesy of Kaiyo) if she screams for him. That’s followed by a multitude of calls from Bokuto, in a panic because he’s forgotten the venue for training tomorrow and managed to lock himself out of his email and no one else from the team is picking up his calls. Then Kaiyo’s goddamned boss calls to ask if she’s sent out some stupid email that honestly, no one is going to die over if she gets to it tomorrow morning, but he’s immediately silenced by the thunderous look on her face when he even tries to open his mouth.

He’s at the end of his patience when her best friend calls to update her on her nefarious, harebrained scheme to get said best friend into poor Shinsuke’s pants.

“I want my wife back”, he bawls out loud in frustration because the conversation is taking far, far too long and he’s naked under the blankets and he just wants to get this over and done with so he can snuggle up with his wife with her soft skin and sleep before he has to wake up at the crack ass of dawn to wave her off to work while he takes Shino to daycare.

But finally, finally, Kaiyo puts down the phone, turns it off (thank the gods) and straddles him (mind promptly goes off) and they’re finally getting hot and heavy and he’s on the verge of blowing his shit and she’s so, so close too (she’s whining louder and louder) and and and -

“Papa? What’cha doin’ to mama?”

It’s the fastest he’s ever moved in his life. Not in some game at some pivotal moment, not when he’s found Osamu about to tattle to their mom about some shit he’s pulled - no. In an instant he flings the blankets over a stunned and very naked Kaiyo, grabbing his underwear and nearly trips as he yanks it up his ass.

“We were wrestlin’, baby girl.” For once in his life, lying through his teeth serves him well.

Kaiyo nods desperately beside him, sheets clutched to her chest. “Just playing around with papa”, she mumbles, a forced, cheery smile on her face.

“Doesn’t seem like a lotta fun”, Shino says bluntly. “Why d’you do it?”

“It’s what people do when they love someone very much. You’ll understand when yer older yeah, princess?”

He can see the wheels turning in his baby’s brain as she mulls his answer over and knows he’s done for when she perks up with a mischievous smile.

“So Ma-kun and I can play like that too?”

The mention of Meian Makoto yet again spurs him on to grab the spray bottle on his bedside table up and proclaim - “Papa said ya can only do that when yer old right? So that means no tryin’ it out til yer like, forty okay?” before grabbing his little girl’s hand and leading her away from the room, muttering loudly that he’s going to kill all those damn monsters so his princess can finally go to sleep, like all good girls should.  

Kaiyo’s still awake when he returns to bed. “Forty, huh?” she giggles softly as he folds himself into her embrace. “I don’t think even we are that old yet.”

“Don’t be mean, it’s been a tiring day”, he groans, relishing in the familiar warmth of her arms. “Don’t ever wanna think about my baby girl growin’ up and knockin’ boots with someone who’s probably not good enough to even lick her shoes.”

“She’s not going to be our baby forever”, she reminds him softly. “We’re going to have to watch her fly the coop some day.”

“I know, I know”, Atsumu groans again. “It’s just really hard for me to see her grow up so fast when I’ve already missed so much of it.”

Kaiyo falls quiet, as she often does when he refers however obliquely to their lost year, as he terms it. “We’ll just have to treasure every moment we have with her”, she finally says firmly. “And”, she adds, a twinkle in her eye. “Maybe baby number two might cure your imminent empty nest syndrome.”

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is very weak.

“Is it my turn to be on top?”

An amused nod, and Atsumu groans for the third time today, his already exhausted muscles aching and calling out for a reprieve.

Kaiyo, as usual, gives no quarter. “Come on, Tsumu”, she says, laughing. “Baby number two, let’s go!”

a/n: this is a bonus scene to my kita fic - a sea of flowers in bloom, and atsumu’s story referred to here is storm chaser. 

[kojinnie]

Why you should NOT date AOT boys... (2)

I advised you but you still didn’t listen just because your fave was not on the first part. So hereby I present to you, reasons why these boys will only give you headache, part two!

Enjoy my lovelies, and stop hurting yourself with these men!

Regards,

Your ever-so-concerned friend, Kojin.

erwin - zeke - jean - connie

part one here (levi - eren - armin - reiner)

— ERWIN

This is not gonna be easy. You’re dealing with a man who has received multitude of achievements and recognition for being who he is and for doing things his own way, so obviously he is at that point in his life where he’s very comfortable in being who he already is. It’s all for a reason though, for Erwin oozes a certain kind of authority that is justified by his sharp thinking and years of experience. He is a self-made man and his success was the work of nobody but his own doing. So obviously, he has this uncanny self-assurance that is not easy to be dissuaded. He is ”The Man” character you hear about in pop songs and movies, and alike to dating Levi, the idea of being with Erwin gives you a sense of pride, you’ll be the most flattered whenever you hear people look at you with certain kind of acknowledgment, “Oh, that’s the one Erwin chooses.”

If you have problem with your self-esteem or you constantly doubt yourself, being with Erwin –especially when you have an established relationship— can really encourage you, to make you realize that there is a great thing in you, that even someone with the caliber of Erwin Smith can see. However, this may also lead to a bad thing because little by little, whether you realize it or not, your identity will be blurred with the constant presence of Erwin around you, simply because he has that magnificence in him that lures the limelight in, and your name will only be left as a prop to better dress the mannequin. This is a man who hardly ever hears “no” in his life, although he will never be violent or do things against your wish, it feels natural for him to always have a say in whatever you do. From the way you dress, your career trajectory, to decision for everyday chore. You would often feel as if you have no room to grow on your own because everything is decided by Erwin, where your opinion is dismissed. The most infuriating aspect of Erwin is that he will do all the aforementioned in such a sweet way. Caressing your cheek, patting your head softly before condescendingly says things like: “Honey, if you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you’ll understand. So for now, let’s just go with [insert his decision], okay?”

The ideal relationship for you and Erwin is if you have been with him since the get-go, before he made a name for himself. The good thing about Erwin is that he values nurture and he will show the utmost gratitude to whomever stood by him since day one. He will flaunt you, mention your name in every awarding speech, praise your perseverance for staying with him while actively making your own mark in your job. Basically, to survive a healthy and thriving romantic relationship with Erwin, you gotta see the quality in him before all the flashy titles, and you gotta be at similar degree of excellence with him. You gotta have his respect, you gotta make a name for yourself, only then he will listen to you and treat you as equal. So if you are still unsure about yourself, and you need constant reassurance about your role in this world, don’t go for Erwin, it will only exacerbate your self-doubt.

— ZEKE

Good god, this man. Where do I start? Okay, so you’re dealing with someone similar to Erwin, who enjoys a point in his life where his professional excellence has been widely established, he even has attained an almost mythical status. Remember how much the Warriors look up to him, saying things like “The enemies are no match to Zeke”? That’s basically his everyday life, and he has gotten so used to hearing that drilled into his ears for years.

For sure, he has a solid self-assurance; he knows what he wants, he knows how to get it, and anyone’s opinion holds very little value to him. But unlike Erwin, Zeke has grown sick of the compliment and has come to think that people are just licking his ass. This is because he made his success with little to no help from anyone else, and he has seen how differently people treated him back when he was just a nameless guy, compared to now, where he has made a name for himself. This experience, created a contradiction in his personality: One, the confident and self-assured Zeke, where he realizes that he’s smarter than most people, and; Two, the self-doubting Zeke, thinking that he is deemed as smart just because everyone comparable to him is stupid. He fears that it’s only until he meets someone smarter than him, before people finally realize that he’s a fraud. He’s the type to spew seemingly condescending remarks in a very casual way, like whenever someone comes to him in an awe and asks how does he do the things he does, he will just shrug it off and say, “I don’t know why everyone’s making a big deal out of that. It’s so easy.” When actually it’s just him, displaying his incomprehension on what make people think that he’s amazing when he hardly sees it.

Zeke leads a life where he thinks he can do whatever he wants, since he does not have a care in the world for anyone’s opinion and validation. This is because Zeke thinks either they are unworthy of his attention, or any person who has ever shown any interest towards him was only after something for themselves. In his early life, Zeke gets used a lot by people he trusted, and so this resulted in him not believing that someone would come to him and truly care for him with no pretense or hidden motives. The idea that he can be loved unconditionally is incredibly foreign, if not impossible to him. And this is the truth about him that he does not like to admit.

This is a person whose motto is to “enjoy things” because the enjoyment of things keeps him distracted from the disappointment he holds against people. So naturally, he does not like sentimental attachment, let alone committed relationship. What Zeke needs is just someone that he can ring up casually (and only occasionally because he’s always kept up with a lot of his professional endeavors), and spoil him with nearly childish affection. He likes to come home to someone who does not see him as this heroic figure that everybody sees, and rather just a careless kid who collects baseball cards with no active parent figure. He likes the cuddles, the kisses, the strokes, the lazy mornings where you pamper him like a demanding baby, because he never gets to experience such candid loving from his childhood, for he had to fend for himself since very young.

He likes to call you up late at night, with a sulk in his voice, “Baby can I come over…?” for you to act annoyed and reluctantly say yes to him. He likes that. He’s corny like that. But once he’s out the door, don’t expect him to text his whereabout or make your name known to the world, because he cannot afford such dire attachment. He’s as free as the bird, and after all, caging him into a committal relationship only justifies his belief that someone would only love him because they’re after something.

— JEAN

Jean is tenacity personified. He wasn’t born talented or lucky enough to have special heritage runs in his blood, he is flawed with a lot of shortcomings, but what makes him stands out is his capability to persevere in the eyes of adversity. To keep on trying although he does not pass the initial mark, and that’s exactly what makes him special. In dating Jean, you will never run out of things to do or talk about, because Jean will always try to make the best out of every situation with his resourcefulness. It’s very nourishing to see someone make such a big effort for you, and if you lack assurance that someone would go extra miles for you, then seeing Jean breaks his back trying to catch your smile is such a sight that you will cherish for a long time.

However, deep inside, Jean is a very exhausted man. He often feels like he is at the end of his wit trying to make everything works. He is deeply wearied by having to be at his top game every minute to compete, and fears that if his grasp slips even just a little, he will quickly fall behind everyone. This will result in Jean being torn apart between work and you, for he always has the urge to put tenfold effort to match others’ casual effort. So expect a lot of calls unanswered and rescheduled date nights during the weekdays. Although he feels extremely regretful with this condition, he also believes that there is nothing he can do, for he thinks he was born unfortunate and this is the effort he has to make due in order to catch up with the others.

All this unhealthy sense of urgency from always having the need to compete often sends Jean into a state of paranoia. He fears that people may team up against him, or that he’s being left out. It’s really frustrating to see Jean having the need to reply to a stupid meme Eren sends at 4 AM while getting high, just because Jean fears that if he does not reply immediately, he will wake up the next day with people already talking about the things he missed. He is always on guard, and as much as he tries to give in to his relationship with you, sometimes you would feel like his mind is not at home. His mind is out there wondering whether he will ever make a name for himself without being compared to people who exerts considerably less effort than him.

Being with Jean, you gotta understand where his fear lies, and you gotta be very calm when dealing with all of his paranoid urges. Whenever he’s not home because he overworks himself, don’t bombard him with calls and text messages, just give him time and welcome him home with warmth and a sense of ease. Be the person where he puts his hair down after a whole day of gruesome work. Jean needs a lot of validation especially from the person he loves (and he feels guilty towards for seemingly neglecting you over work), all he needs to hear is just “You did well today”, and he would be more than thankful. Make time as well to give him little surprise, to make him realizes that you are the one place he does not need to compete with anyone else for you are his home. When it comes to Jean, it’s about give and take, he doesn’t do well with a diva who demands attention 24/7, nor he does well with someone who is seemingly way over his league, for it will worsen his insecurity.

Point is, Jean is an amazing man, guys, I couldn’t really point out why you should NOT date him, because in fact, you SHOULD date him. Being with him is a learning curve, not only for you but also for him, to understand that in a relationship not only that you gotta love, but also to compromise.

— CONNIE

Connie, oh Connie. We all love Connie, he’s the guy who would complete a picture, a party is a bore without the sight of him, we all just love us some Connie, but often to his expense. People love Connie because he is outgoing, humble, and has this salt-of-the-earth persona, but more often than not, people also use him as a comedic relief, and although at first, he enjoys it because he would like the idea that people look forward to him, sometimes it also takes a toll in him, it makes Connie wonder whether he will ever be fit for bigger purpose other than someone else’s humor.

Connie thrives in being helpful to other people, he believes being of service is his greatest merit and thus he never complains whenever someone asks him to do something, nor does he ever dislike doing things for other people. But often he wonders even after all the great services he has done to other people, why haven’t people seen him as more than just a comedic relief? Why can’t he be the hero of a story, instead of just the people’s favorite side character? This thought lingers a lot in his mind, and if he does not find a way to let it out somehow, this may grow into a bitterness for he feels used.

Make no mistake though, Connie does not yearn to have the limelight on his own, he is content with his position, all he needs is a bit of credit and affirmation that he is as important his other peers. That he is not overlooked nor that he is expendable. Without this, Connie might grow to become resentful of people as he thinks they will only use him to their advantages. He will get easily jealous or at high alert, just because you passingly joke about Jean being handsome with his new haircut. He may go into that rabbit hole of anxiety, waiting until the day when you finally leave him for being mediocre and opt for his more attractive friend.

When this side of him comes out, initially he will be overtly self-deprecating. Masking it as a joke just to fish a reaction from you. If you laugh along, not knowing that it was a test, he will be sure that you are just using him and it won’t be long until you depart for someone with more load than him. Once he sets his mind, he can be quite vindictive to you, casually assuming you of the worst while trying to pass it as a joke. When this side of Connie comes out, the last thing you should do is to get riled up. Connie is not being rational, so you gotta be the adult here unfortunately. You gotta shower him with a lot of affection in the form of services like he’s always do to people around him, and slowly work your way to the topic you are meaning to ask. Connie might be alluding the question for a while, until he finally comes clean that he was jealous and did not know how to properly address this feeling.

Being with Connie comes with the responsibility of making a home for him where finally he gets to be the center attention. He is not a narcissist, so he does not want everything to center around him. All he wanna be is to be seen, in which every effort he has made to the people he loves are being outwardly recognized and thanked for. Little things would really make Connie happy, like posting a lot of photos with him on your social media, or arranging surprise birthday party with his co-workers where he can finally experience what it feels like to be the likes of Eren or Jean.

Thank you guys for all the likes, reblogs and comments - YOU ALL MAKE MY DAY. I was on the verge of being sure that no one would like things I write, but this.. This... (wails in telenovela style). I thank you and I wish you a great week ahead!

Guys for real if you still simp these guys even after this fair warning then I have no choice but to give you a personalized reason on why you should not date your fave AOT characters! 

> [CLOSED] Twisted Match-Up!  Send me three worst traits of yours + your AOT fave character and I’ll make you a short scenario on how shitty your relationship would be with them.  Fire away here!

[beelsnack]

Henlo!!! Just wanted to request MC getting surprised by the demon bros in the human realm! The bros miss MC a lot so they just surprise them and hang out for a bit :) it can be HCs! Thank you and I love ya work ❤️

Henlo!! Get ready for some fluff, my dudes.

I don’t know why, but this seemed better as short little headcanons as opposed to my usual scenarios.

-----

Lucifer

- He had expressly forbade any of his brothers from going up to the human world, because “they needed time to readjust.”

- But apparently Pridey McPrideface is exempt from his own rules.

- He does his research. If the human still lives with their parents or has roommates, he picks a night when they are home alone.This night is reserved for the two of them, and he will eviscerate anyone who gets in the way.

- Honestly, he wants to do some sort of grand entrance, but in the end, he simply knocks on the door.

- “Hello, my dear,” he takes their hand and kisses their knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

- “Lucifer!” they tackle him with a hug strong enough to knock over a lesser demon. In his peripheral, Lucifer sees a neighbor stick their head out of the door and look around with a confused look.

- “You have nosy neighbors, I see.”

“Well, I mean, I did just scream ‘Lucifer...’”

“Perhaps we should go inside before someone calls a priest?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

- The two of them spend the night in their living room, just talking. They ask if he wants to go out somewhere, but he declines.

“This is the most relaxed I’ve been in centuries. I’m perfectly satisfied with staying in with you.”

- He hadn’t intended to stay the night, but it was near impossible to resist the offer. And that would end up being his downfall.

- He had forgotten about that stupid game that his brothers and the human liked to play, where they got pictures of each other sleeping. And, just as he couldn’t resist the temptation to spend the night with them, they couldn’t resist the temptation to steal a picture while he slept.

- When he arrived back at the House of Lamentation, all six of his brothers were waiting for him in the entrance hall.

- “So, where ya been, Luci?” Mammon sneered. “Ya couldn’t have possibly snuck off to visit the human after makin’ damn sure you told us not to do that, now could ya?”

“It’s not like our dear eldest brother to do something so hypocritical.” Satan said coolly, regarding Lucifer with a raised eyebrow.

“...I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Lucifer huffed.

“’Hey guys! How many points is a sleeping Lucifer worth?’” Levi turned his phone around to show Lucifer a picture of his own sleeping face, with the human’s laughing eyes just poking out from the bottom corner.

“...Oh.”

He wasn’t living this one down for a while.

Mammon

- This sneaky little bastard straight up just climbs into their room in the middle of the night.

- You know, like he DIDN’T live in a completely different realm.

- The human damn near punches him in the face when he wakes them up.

- “Mammon, what the actual fuck are you doing?”

“Visiting, what’s it look like?”

“To my neighbors, probably breaking and entering.”

- They should kick him out, all they have to do is issue a pact command. But Mammon looks at them with his sad blue eyes and they just can’t bring themself to do it.

- “I got so used to ya...y’know...sleeping next to me.” he shuffled around like a kid waiting to get scolded. “It’s hard to fall asleep when ya ain’t there.”

“Shut up and cuddle with me, you big baby.”

- They stay up stupidly late watching vine compilations and talking until they straight up just pass out against each other. They stay like that for the rest of the night.

- And by rest of the night I mean until freaking noon the next day. And the only reason they wake up then is because Lucifer is blowing up Mammon’s phone.

- “Mammon, where are you?”

“If you’re out clubbing, be back at a reasonable hour. If you’re out scheming, don’t come back until you have something to show for it.”

“You better not have passed out in a gutter somewhere. We have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Mammon, please tell me you didn’t directly disobey an order and go visit the Human Realm.”

Four unread voicemails.

“Welp, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks, human, love you too.”

Leviathan:

- Social anxiety is a bitch and a half, so he just asks if he can come visit.

-Deadass just portals into their living room like “’Sup, I brought games, go get some snacks and get prepared to get rekt.”

- That’s it, that’s the visit.

- They decide to do multiplayer vs some other humans and they wipe the floor with them.

- “Eat it, normies, I’M the one playing with a hot person! Have fun in your moms’ basements!”

“Pot meet kettle, Levi.”

“I don’t live in a basement, though!”

“Fair point. Boom, headshot!”

- Levi manages to sleep over without repercussions solely because nobody is surprised if he doesn’t show up somewhere.

Satan

- Makes direct eye contact with Lucifer as he leaves the House of Lamentation and goes “Don’t wait up.”

-Times his surprise visit so he’s made himself comfortable with a book and a cup of coffee when they get home.

- They brought a friend over to study or whatever. The human sees him in the middle of the living room and just screeches “Satan, what the fuck?”

-The friend is like “Aight imma head out.” And like goes into witness protection.

- Satan comes bearing gifts of the newest installments of Devildom book series’ and a recording of the episodes of the crime dramas that they need to catch up on.

- They pause between each episode to talk theories even though Satan already knows what happens. Both of them feel proud of the human when they figure it out.

- Mammon texts Satan in the middle of the night in absolute terror.

Mammon: Satan you get your ass back to the Devildom right now!

Satan: Why?

Mammon: Because Lucifer is about to rip a hole through the dimensions to drag you back here!

Satan: That sounds like a Lucifer problem.

Mammon: It’s about to be a Three Realms problem!

- Read 2:09 AM

Asmodeus

- He just tells Lucifer he’s going to visit Solomon.

- And makes sure to tell him that if Lucifer decides to interrupt him, he will gladly let him listen to all of the naughty things they’re going to be doing.

- And Lucifer just straight up doesn’t want to deal with his shit so he lets it go.

- The human comes home to see Asmo stretched out on their bed scrolling through Devilgram.

- “Ugh, finally! You took forever!”

“Asmo? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was planning on seducing you, but I absolutely refuse to have sex on a bed that moans louder than I do.”

- They go on a cute little cafe date and Asmo insists on going to all of the high-end fashion stores.

- “Devildom fashion trends always seem a few decades behind the human world. Honestly, it wasn’t until about five years ago that I could find a skirt above my knees! You would think a Realm full of sin and vice would be a little more up-to-date with provocative attire.”

- FASHION. SHOW.

-They spend an absurd amount of time trying on tacky jewelry and roasting it via Snapchat. Like, the employee showed up on Asmo’s story as they were kicking them out.

- They buy a bottle of liquor on their way back to the human’s place, get absolutely smashed and, depending on your preference, either have the giggliest sex ever or watch stupid beauty hack videos. Maybe both. Actually, definitely both.

- The next morning, Asmo does an Inter-dimensional Walk of Shame and no one is surprised.

Beelzebub

- Was going to lie about where he was going but felt guilty about it.

- So he just didn’t tell anyone.

-Knocks on the human’s door and immediately gives them the biggest bear hug.

- “I missed you, so I came to visit. That’s okay, right?”

- Beel wants to go out to eat, but the human flat out says no because they can’t afford to wine and dine the Avatar of Gluttony.

- They compromise by buying a crapton of snacks at the grocery store.

- Cashier: Must be a big party you’re having.

Human, grabbing a family size bag of chips out of Beel’s hand without even turning to look at him: Yup.

- They make themselves a blanket fort in their living room, watching movies and eating way too many snacks. Beel asks them questions about their family and their life up there. If the human has photos, he wants to see all of them.

-The human falls asleep mid-movie, slumping against his shoulder. Beel picks them up and tucks them into bed, planning on leaving to let them rest before they sleepily ask him to spend the night.

Belphegor

- Convinces Mammon to cover for him.

- Does this by going “Please, Big Brother?” and Mammon caves almost immediately.

- Pops into the human’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning and wiggles into bed with them.

- “Why am I not surprised?”

“Missed you too.”

- Human just accepts the snuggles and goes back to sleep. Belphie makes sure they have good dreams.

- If they have work or school, Belphie convinces them to call in sick and spend the day with him.

- Lots of naps and sleepy kisses. The chillest day ever.

- The human feels so relaxed that they almost convince Belphie to stay another night, and Belphie almost agrees.

- But Mammon’s ability to bullshit will only last so long, and Belphie knows he needs to go back before someone notices that his “afternoon nap” was going on 14 hours.

- “Come see me in my dreams, okay?”