#*bursts at the seams* i mean...whatever dude

[psychicpinenut]

hold on cause i'm about to get into it. in siege of the north one of my absolute favorite parts is when zhao is taken by the ocean spirit and zuko reaches out for him, almost pleading with him to take his hand. and then of course he doesn't because of his pride but this single moment shows you who zuko is. just 5 seconds ago he was fighting zhao because he literally tried to kill him. he blew up the boat he was on and tried to assassinate him. and zuko still tried to save his life. amazing, amazing, chef's kiss moment. you truly see how good zuko is at his core.

because sure we saw the flashback of him wanting to save the 41st division, saves his crew instead of chasing after aang, we saw him choose his uncle over going after aang but none of these people were people who tried to literally murder him. him having the capacity to extend a saving hand to his enemy is the deepest look into his goodness we've seen at this point.

and then the live action happened. not only did they completely erase this moment and had iroh kill zhao instead but the reason for iroh having to kill him pissed me off so bad.

in the cartoon zuko had zhao BEAT. no question about it. zhao was on the ground where zuko pinned him. he already beat him in the fight (for the second time this season mind you). only then does the ocean spirit come out of the water to take him and zuko ducks out of its way (although the spirit wasn't after him in the first place).

in the live action however after being beat by zuko, zhao taunts and mocks zuko that his whole mission was a sham and a way to motivate azula (essentially playing mindgames with him, mentally getting the upper hand on him) and this taunt causes zuko to actually try to kill zhao which he manages to duck away from. zuko is so preoccupied with this new information (which frankly, also didn't need to be said out loud because they never voice it in the show but we knew that his mission was basically just a way to get rid of him as no one thought the avatar was going to return) that he almost gets blasted by zhao from behind (i assume this was taken from their first agni kai that they skipped over) and iroh has to kill him to protect zuko.

how much more unimpactful and shallow this scene is compared to the original. they took out this amazing look into zuko's soul and then had him almost kill zhao instead of trying to save him. then he gets almost killed because he wasn't paying attention. which i know basically happens during their first agni kai in the cartoon but i think it made more sense to do that early on and introduce their characters - zuko, who doesn't deal the final blow even though he could've and zhao, who is unable to take the defeat and attacks him from the back which has to be blocked by iroh - not at the literal last episode of the season. and for some reason iroh gets to kill zhao instead of it being the ocean spirit's revenge for him killing the moon spirit. absolutely garbage scene.

[dimepdf]

DATING KURT WOULD INCLUDE. + KURT KUNKLE

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. what being in a relationship with Kurt would be like.

pairing. kurt kunkle x reader

genre and warnings. 18+ under cut MDNI, none gender specific, incel Kurt, fluff, gamer boyfriend trope, not canon to movie, just silly little headcanons, i honestly don't know how to tag this. | — feedback is always welcomed & don’t forget to reblog 🤍

Honestly, I can not believe that you guys convinced me to write this. You literally put a gun to my head and told me to start writing this with my black ass. 

Ight come get y'all juice ig.

Kurt is the type of boyfriend who just doesn't know what to do when you show him affection, the man takes a minute to process every compliment that you give him.

"Wait...Did you just call me a pretty boy?"

"Kurt, I said that an hour ago, babe."

Your first date is going to be cheap.

I'm just being honest here, but that doesn't mean that this man wouldn't burn a hole in his pockets just to buy you whatever you want from the McDonald's dollar menu. 

He will randomly just check up on you throughout the day.

Even if you're spending it together, he’ll suddenly just stop what he’s doing and analyze you for a bit.

Despite you two being in a relationship, Kurt pulls zero bitches, no matter how much he tries to present himself as this super confident guy with a super hot partner.

And because of that, he’s very inexperienced when it comes to relationships.

You have to be the one to initiate everything when it comes to your relationship. 

But when you are being affectionate, you have to turn it all the way up a notch because this man is kind of dense.

You would wrap your arms around him as he sat in his gamer chair watching him play one of his silly little games. 

The sound leaking from his headset as you shifted to his lap, unaffected by your presence, thinking you just wanted to cuddle.

But then you start kissing him on the collarbone...

Man's is instantly hard.

here's where it get's a little spicy...

You discover that Kurt is quite vocal during sex.

Like a modern day porn star, you cannot shut him the fuck up.

Every little touches from you makes him feel like he’s experiencing sex for the first time, every time.

It isn't that hard to please him since he’s never felt the touch of a everyone ever in his life, so you would give him the most sheet gripping, teeth clenching, knuckle biting head of his life.

Kurt has this thing with eye contact.

You have to look him in the eye while you guys are having sex or he just can’t cum.

Same with biting.

He doesn't do it to you, but he’ll burst at the seams if you tease him by sinking your teeth into any part of his body.

Do not try this with his slong.

He has accidentally hit you before the time that you tried to jump scare him.

His reflexes are insane. 

Also he cries. 

You have to give that man aftercare because he literally breaks down.

That post-nut clarity hits him like a ton of fucking bricks.

All he wants to do is be the little spoon and cuddle with you. 

okay back to being cute again...

Whenever he wins a round, you have to kiss him. 

He’ll spring from his gamer chair at the end of the round and jump onto the mattress just to steal a kiss from you.

will brag about you to the ten-year olds online that he’s playing with

“Yeah, well my partner is super freaking hot so…no im not lying dude!” 

“Y/N! COME TELL THEM THAT YOU’RE TOTALLY REAL AND NOT MY MOM!”

waking up and seeing him on the game or making his little "beep boop" music in the corner of the room with the lights turned off.

“Jesus Christ Kurt, turn on the light at least you look like a serial killer.”

“Oh I'm sorry honey, I just didn't want to wake you!”

He constantly asks you for your opinion on everything.

He just can’t help it.

He just constantly wants your approval and wants to impress everyone, especially you.

Lowkey, he has this thing with taking pictures of you while you're sleeping, like his entire camera roll would be just you sleeping in random places he likes to scroll through whenever he’s bored.

You guys do fight, just not very often, but when you do, it's usually over something very serious.

“....are you mad at me Y/N?”

“You literally drove off and left me in a random fucking parking lot because of a game sale Kurt.”

Since he is very into being social media famous, you do have to bring the hammer on him sometimes to stop him from doing dangerously stupid trends.

But other than that, your relationship is usually just shits and giggles.

🔖 @quinnxmunson @lluvin @summerhornet @coralluminaryinternet @jonathansmalewife (for Kurt)

tap here to be added to taglist.

[over--and-out]

begging for literally any content with eddie and a ftm reader please im starving

Answer

Eddie Munson x FTM Reader

Summary: You didn't think coming out to Eddie would be as easy as it was

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Your response was shaky and nervous but Eddie just nodded as he comprehended what you were telling him. He waved his ring clad hand as he spoke.

"So, um... You want me to call you a boy?" You nodded a bit and he gave a small nod in return. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. "M'kay. Done." You blinked slowly at his words and your brows furrowed, Eddie placing his hand down on the table before messing with his plate of fries.

"Done?"

"Yeah. Whatever you wanna do. That makes you more comfortable right?"

You were taken back by his words. "Well yeah but-"

"Well then if that's it then I'll do it. It's not my business to question you. It is ,however, my business to support you."

You blinked for a long moment and nodded as you looked down, rubbing your arms a bit and Eddie popped a French fry into his mouth. "Do these taste a little unseasoned? I should have seasoned them better." His brows were furrowed and you gave him furrowed brows in return.

"Eddie, it really doesn't bother you?" His brows eyes met yours and his brows were equally furrowed in confusion. "Why would it? You feel more comfortable as a boy, that's who you are. I shouldn't have a say in how you feel comfortable." Eddie had never really been good at giving genuine words of advice, but he was good at making sense of something that you found confusing.

"I can like, take you to get your haircut sometime later maybe? I remember you saying you liked that one dude's style in the new Nightmare on Elm Street."

Was he mocking you? Making fun of you?

"Sweetheart?" He spoke softly, genuinely. That's one thing Eddie always was. Genuine.

"Yeah sorry... I just... Didn't think you'd react this way." A bit of worry washed over his features and he leaned forward a bit to speak quieter to you.

"Did somebody react negatively? Is everything okay?" You shook your head.

"No- I mean yeah but... I don't know, I just didn't think you'd accept it." He smiled softly and ran his knuckles across your cheek, the cool metal of a new ring he had on leaving a trail of goosebumps in it's wake. He gave you a gentle kiss to your forehead before flopping back into his seat and you laughed softly.

"You do know that now this means you're in a gay relationship, right?" He gave an absent shrug.

"Maybe I've been gay this whole time. You never know."

"WOW, Munson, real nice."

"I didn't mean it like that-" he quickly rushed his words out and you playfully threw a French fry at him.

~

The next day, Eddie had prompted to skip school and take you with him. You were almost ecstatic and bursting at the seams with happiness. Eddie had offered to take you to Starcourt to get you new things like a binder and such, or the best rendition of one he could find. He was a determined man, and Eddie being Eddie, he was a flatterer. That morning he picked you up in that beat up old van and he drove you to his trailer, Wayne greeting you with a smile and immediately asking how "Eddie's boy" was doing. It filled your chest to the brim with happiness, and you'd be exploding if you knew that Eddie had spent two hours explaining the situation to his Uncle Wayne.

He let you wear some of his baggy clothes, his pants a bit big but a worn belt of his helped them stay fastened around your waist. He gave you a deep red and orange Megadeth shirt that had some rips and tears here and there, but it wasn't exposing. Finally was the brown flannel over top of everything. Since you had some converses already, he didn't need to give you any shoes. He helped you tuck your shirt into your pants, overly excited about the situation at hand and he was almost literally like a puppy dog.

"'S that comfy for you? Does it feel okay?" He glanced at you, his tongue wetting his bottom lip in concentration. You nodded and a happy smile spread across your face. He smiled back and stood to his full height, kissing your forehead. "So, haircut first? Food? Whatever you wanna do sweetheart."

He hugged you into his side and you smiled as you leaned into him. Today was going to be good, you could tell.

You had gotten a haircut, the style completely suiting to your face shape and Eddie took you to multiple stores to get some clothes. He had managed to find something to suffice as a chest binder for you and you immediately ran to the bathroom to put it on. When the two of you were done, you made your way to the Scoops Ahoy across the mall.

"What kind of ice cream do you want? Or do you wanna share a root beer split again?" You perked up and immediately agreed to the split, causing Eddie to smile as he turned to the one and only Steve Harrington.

"Welcome to Scoops Ahoy." Steve sounded so disinterested that it was almost funny.

"What's got your panties in a twist, Harrington?" Eddie was nonchalant and amused as he leaned against the counter.

"A girl ditched him last night on their date. Dingus was furious." Robin walked around the counter flinging water off of a freshly cleaned ice cream scoop.

"No shit." Eddie laughed and shook his head. "Harrington just can't seem to get a hang of this dating thing, can he? Mr. 'I had every girl in Hawkins after me.'"

"Yeah yeah save it Munson. What do you want?"

Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulders and beamed. "The man's agreed to a root beer split."

Robin immediately picked up on it. "Coming right up, sirs."

She gave you a knowing smile and nodded, causing a wave of warmth to go through you. You couldn't believe the support you had with your friends.

This is kind of shit ngl and I'm so sorry about that. I'm working on more in the process and I apologize for being so slow with fics. I haven't been the best mentally

[writersmorgue]

Day 17 - (alt.) found footage

read on Ao3

word count: 1102

TWs in tags

note: i like this one :3

When Toga pranced into the bar, still wearing the skin of some recently-deceased Commision lackey, Dabi didn’t think much about it. 

When she waved a file in his face, the accordion binder practically bursting at the seams, several flash drives dangling out of it- well, consider him intrigued. 

“I’ll grab Shiggy’s computer if you wanna grab Hawwwwks!” She sings, winking at him. 

Dabi rolls his eyes but goes to fetch the bird anyway. He’s probably in the basement, contacting his hero besties and relaying false information.

Look, they’re not that stupid, alright?

“Oi, birdbrain.” He shouts, kicking the stairwell door. 

There’s a short yelp, and then fluttering. 

Hawks yanks open the door, hair ruffled and blinking like an owl. 

Cute.

On second thought, he was probably just taking a nap. He said something about not being able to rest peacefully at home, though Dabi’s not sure how a villain base could be any better. 

“Someone’s always watching,” He had said. Dabi’s not sure how the disembodied voice of Shiggy’s sugar daddy is any more reassuring, but he gets to see Hawks half-naked in a towel sometimes so he’s not going to complain. 

He grew up with Endeavor, okay? His inner prude is going to have a long and fruitful life. 

“Got commission shit Birdy, figured you’d wanna see.” He nods toward the main room. 

Hawks ruffles slightly, “Oh, cool. Be there in a sec.”

He shuts the door in Dabi’s face. 

He growls, arm raised to shout at this hero’s audacity- but he doesn’t. Having this file is probably a massive setback for the traitor, so he’ll let it slide. Watching him react to whatever they’ve got on those tapes will be payback enough. 

Tinny screams greet him when he re-enters the living area. Toga, Shigaraki, and Spinner are huddled around the laptop. Even Kurogiri looks interested from where he stands behind the bar. 

“Oh shit,” Dabi snorts, “Is it an interrogation file?”

Toga looks up at him, her knees pulled to her chest, “Dabi, it’s Hawks.”

Shigaraki looks paler than usual, and he’s scratching his neck, “They’re more corrupt than I thought if this is how they treat number two.”

“What do you mean?” Dabi rounds the couch they’re all piled on, leaning over the back to see the screen more closely.

There’s a man strapped onto a chair, a red mass shoved snugly behind him, making his back arch uncomfortably in his restraints. His head is bleeding, eyes foggy as they dart around, looking at someone behind the camera. 

“I finished the mission- I,” He gags, some sort of foam dribbling out of his mouth, “I was good.”

“You scared a child, Hawks. You don’t count that as a success, do you?” 

Hawks shivers, shaking his head robotically, “No, but I apologized, she said I just startled her. She was traumatized!” 

The mystery man steps forward quickly into the frame, his body covering Hawks’s completely. His arm swings out, colliding with the hero’s face with a loud slap.

“DON’T talk back to me, Hawks. Or do you require a lesson one refresher?” He shakes his hand out, retreating behind the camera. 

Hawks’s cheek is a bright crimson, slowly deepening. Blood slowly drips from a fresh cut, probably from the man’s wedding ring. 

Dabi shakes himself out of his daze, “Um, Toga.” He pauses, listening to Hawks scream as the video cuts to his talons being pulled out, “Did you mean to grab Birdy’s tape?”

She shakes her head, loose bun bouncing with the movement, “No, I swear. I wouldn’t have if I knew, it was just there-”

“Pretty pathetic, right?”

Dabi does not almost shit his pants. 

He whips around, eyes as wide as his stitches will allow.

Hawks stands there, hands in his pockets, looking so fucking casual it makes Dabi incomprehensibly angry. 

“Pathetic?!” He shouts, “Birdbrain what the fuck?”

Hawks shrugs, jerking his shoulder towards the laptop, “I mean, the footage is old. I was loud as fuck.”

Spinner is gawking, “Dude, they’re pulling your nails out.”

The silence stretches, almost awkward, broken by another scream from younger Hawks. 

The hero winces, “Gods, no wonder they’re punishing me, that’s gotta be annoying. It took them a while to train it out of me but at first I would screech, like a bird.”

“Hawks,” Toga whispers, “Your quirk gives you bird things, it’s okay to just do what comes naturally to you.”

Hawks frowns, “No, it was pestilence. I’m better now.”

Dabi quirks an eyebrow, “That’s a big word, bud, who taught you that one?” 

“Ha ha ha.” He deadpans, “I’ve been with them since I was like nine, I’m not that dumb.”

“Did they, um, do this stuff when you were little?” Spinner gestures to the computer, now playing a passed-out Hawks being beaten with a police-grade baton. Quite a helpful reminder that it’s the government doing this to one of their own.

For the betterment of society, or whatever. 

The hero nods, “Well, I mean, my Dad was like that too, so I was pretty used to it at that point. Tough love, y’know?”

The problem is that Dabi does know; he also knows that physical abuse doesn’t come from a place of love no matter how you spin it. 

“Birdy, Is this why you don’t like staying at home? They watch you there, don’t they.” Dabi asks. 

Hawks shrugs, “What can I say, living with a house full of bugs isn’t the most… comfortable. I prefer to sleep knowing I’m not being recorded at all times.” 

Dabi doesn’t mention that he’s also being monitored here, but he figures it’s not nearly in the same way. Sure AFO is always… present in a way, but he’s not pulling them aside every afternoon to waterboard them- holy shit. 

“Hey, you know, I can hold my breath for a long time now, it’s pretty cool.” Hawks gestures to the gargling yelps coming from the recording, “Useful for hero work.”

Shigaraki finally breaks skin, beads of red forming under his ear.

He stands, shutting his laptop and making a quick escape, tossing the USB back at Toga, who fumbles it like it’s burning her. 

“Well,” Hawks hums, pulling his pager out of his pocket, “I gotta go. See y’all for dinner!”

He struts out of the room, not bothering to mess with his file or attempt to take it with him. 

Once he’s gone, Spinner leans forward, cradling his head in his hands. 

“All in favor of destroying the commission and giving everyone involved with this a slow and painful death?” Toga breaks the silence, raising her hand. 

“Yep.”

“Mhm.”

[winderlylandchime]

Just want to send you guys little moments that have happened in the last few days that for sure wouldn’t have without qaf. Just in case if you guys thought that maybe he has even one normal day/moment in his life. I am here to show you that you’re wrong. Anyway:

Our mom called him like 4 times which he didn’t answer. Finally when he called her back, she asked why didn’t he answer before to which he said ‘sorry mom, i was playing with Brian’ and my mom went dead silent and had the most scared look on her face and then just slowly went ‘please, please say you mean the cat.’

He went on a walk with the neighbor that watched qaf and he mentioned to him that he saw Gale on Criminal Minds. And the guy, i guess told him that Gale was on Desperate Housewives and the next thing I see out the window is a grown man trying to speed walk back home. And he barges in and goes ‘we gotta watch Desperate Housewives! Right now! Brian is there!’ And when I told him that he’s only in a few episodes in a later season, he went ‘fuck. So now I gotta watch that whole thing for a bit of Brian? That’s rude but I guess I gotta do what I gotta do’ so now he put DH on his watch list next.

Then he had a call with his therapist and I don’t know what they talked about but whatever it was, it lead to him bursting into my room going ‘do YOU think Brian would fuck me if given the chance?’ We got into an argument because I refused to answer. I mean what do i even say to that? But also i want to know what he asked his therapist with the way he emphasized the word ‘you’.

I was in a “meeting” (more like a catch up) like 2 days ago with my boss and a coworker (who thankfully have met my brother and are both cool) when this dude burst into my office to ask ‘when do you think Brian fell in love?’ He thinks it was before prom, he can’t make his mind up between 1x16, 1x18 or 1x20 he wants to say it was sooner but he doesn’t think so. But he thinks prom solidified it, which btw he said all that while still in the room and then when he noticed my laptop, he very, very slowly walked backwards and closed the door behind him.

Then I went to our local store (it’s like a tiny corner store or whatever) and when I was at the check out ready to pay, the guy working there goes ‘hey, i thought you only had one brother?’ And i confirm that yes, i onky got one, thank god. And then he goes ‘so who the fuck are Brian and Justin?’ And i felt like a deer caught in headlights. Turns out he’s been talking about them like they’re normal people, so the poor guy thought Justin was our little brother and Brian is his boyfriend/my brothers friend.

And my all time favorite one this week was the one that even made our mom laugh so hard she cried: an old lady that went to PT with him (after pt they have him on like some lasers or whatever to help the pain, so he’s laying on one of the beds and she’s on the other) she has heard him talk about Brian to the nurse(!!!) so many times that she actually thought Brian was his boyfriend. And he didn’t even realize it until she left her last session yesterday and before she left she went ‘sweetheart, leave that man, you deserve much better than what he gives you plus by the sound of it, he’s still hung up on his ex’ and my dumb brother sighed and went ‘yeah, i know- wait what’ and she waved and left. He couldn’t figure out if he gave off a certain vibe or was it how he talked/moved and she was just being a little ignorant about it or if all this Brian talk made an old lady think he’s gay. And when I didn’t answer bc idk what to say, he got into an argument with me again because and I quote ‘how dare you not know if I’m gay or not to other people.’ Oh and he texted our mom ‘do I seem gay?’ But he fucked up and wrote ‘seam’ so it changed the whole thing to ‘Am i gay?’ Mom’s response was ‘i don’t know hunny, maybe. Who knows at this point anymore’ it took him TWO HOURS to realize the typo/autocorrect and by then it was too late to fix it so he just gave up.

So i’d say living with my brother at the hight of his Qaf obsession has been going great.

Dear sweet anon! This has made me laugh so hard. Your brother is really in the mix of it all, isn't he?

my mom went dead silent and had the most scared look on her face and then just slowly went ‘please, please say you mean the cat.’ LOL. Because let's not have an adult man with a new imaginary friend who's a character on a long ago TV show.

I am so terrified of what he asked his therapist. I wish your brother was my client because I would just discuss the show for a session and get paid but now I'm imagining this happening to a therapist who has never seen QAF and how confusing it must be and how this therapist is probably consulting with other therapists to figure out how much to indulge this. (Btw has QAF come up in my own therapy? Yes, yes it has.)

As for when Brian fell in love - that is such a good question. I think I had an anon who asked me that. I think there's a meta post in your brother that is dying to be posted to tumblr.

Also everyone thinking Brian and Justin are other brothers or your brother's boyfriend or... the fact that your brother is not prefacing all of this with "this is a tv show and these are characters on the show" is just fandom brain. And it's hilarious. And the little old lady telling him to leave Brian? DEAD.

Mom’s response was ‘i don’t know hunny, maybe. Who knows at this point anymore’ is a great response to "am I gay" but also brother not realizing the typo/autocorrect is killing me.

You are a saint. Thank you for your service. This is incredible.

[kithtaehyung]

friends (3tan) (m) | myg

title: friends (the week, pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the week you get with yoongi has a few surprises. and one of them presents itself in the form of a phone call. warnings: cursing, tension, oc’s are introduced!!, oral (m rec), degradation, the amount of kiss scenes wow lol, power dynamics (cmnf), fingering, angst yeah i know, throat fucking, choking, rude yoongi :))), multiple orgasms, breast play, cum swallowing, the chains stay on😀😀😀, cunt slapping, sl*t/wh*re mentions, dirty talk, yoongi’s mouth in general, overthinking, doubt, head/hair pulling, body worship, praise, restraining via headboard a ha ha, this one is p angsty y’all😭 note: thank you to @sugakookitty​​ for being an angel beta !! i know this was super last minute i am so so sorry. i owe you some tangerines! note 2: and here we are again. i hope you all like this installment, and i wanted to thank everyone for being so patient and supportive. it truly means so much to me! if you haven’t gotten around to three tangerines yet, i highly encourage you to read the series first since this is from the same universe :D it would make more sense! word count: 15.6k drop date: april 26th, 2022, 7:17pm est

-

-

“Long weekend, huh?”

On instinct, you nudge Taehyung with your shoulder, hearing him laugh into his tea straw while the both of you amble down a dilapidated sidewalk. 

Despite its rugged form, the concrete path remains one of the cleaner ones in the city, hugging the longer side of an old shopping center filled with newer businesses. 

It’s one you remember walking down many, many times.

“I said shut up,” you emptily huff. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“You don’t have to, dude. The way you look tells me everything.” 

Afternoon traffic reaches your ears as you toss intrigue your friend’s way. “And what does that mean?” 

“You outshine the sun right now.” 

“Wow.” Taking a sip of your usual boba selection, you clear your throat to relieve yourself of the bits of embarrassment caught inside. “Shakespeare is quaking in his grave.”

Taehyung snorts. “Please. I’d run circles around that old man.” 

“Wouldn’t doubt that. You’re both lame.” 

“And you’re glowing but won’t spill. I dunno why you’re acting.” 

“Huh?”

A fiendish smile slips between you before he replies, “I know you’re dying to talk about it.” 

Fuck Kim Taehyung for being so right all the time. 

Because screw it, you really are. So much happened between you and Yoongi that you’re almost bursting at the seams with giddiness. The only thing dampening your mood is the fact that you can’t possibly let this secret out, as much as you want to shout about it from the rooftops. 

If you release whatever you have out in the world—even if just to one person—it may have a way of traveling a lot further than you planned. And with that comes certain risks. 

Like the risk of your brother finding out.

However, the person wanting to know is Taehyung. And he already knows the juiciest part. 

“Okay, fine,” you blurt, hiding your smile with another sip. “But not out here.” 

Your annoying best friend slowly scans around the empty area with intention, his gaze landing on a patch of shrubbery next to his knees. “Right. I would hate for these bushes to know your dirty little secret.” 

“Ugh! Just not in public. Let’s go to your place.” 

“Ah… Let’s go to yours.” 

Quirking a brow, you watch his steady features before relenting. The excitement to tell anyone outweighs your curiosity—for the time being, at least. 

“Fine. But let’s get food first.” 

“Oh my god, you’ve got it bad.” 

“Hey!” 

“Don’t rag on me for telling the truth!” 

You roll your eyes as you take another bite of your takeout. “You weren’t supposed to be so judgy.” 

“I’m not being judgy,” Taehyung laughs. “Just observant.” 

“Well, either way. It’s not true.”

Even though his mouth is full, you can clearly tell he calls “bullshit” through black bean noodles and meat. Watching the television in front of you, you decide not to offer any replies, simply observing the drama switch to another scene with telltale heart-filled filters. 

Admittedly, your vision seems to have that same effect. 

Because you can’t fucking stop thinking about Yoongi and the week you get him to yourself. 

You haven’t felt like this in ages, like your stomach can’t settle but your heart has it far worse—buzzing, tingling, fizzing all over. Thousands of butterflies occupy your chest, fluttering and beating so loud that they kept you up all of last night and carried you throughout your entire, otherwise shitty workday. 

Fuck, you wanna see him. 

“Like I said.”

Damn it.

“You got it bad.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, setting your food down with a pout. “I may be into him a little bit.” 

Taehyung looks so affronted that you laugh, cheeks a little tighter than usual. 

At this, your friend regards you with scrunched brows and a grin, getting up from the floor to sit on the couch next to you. Cross legged and all. “Look at you! Okay, you’re hiding something. Spill.”

“I told you everything!”

“Liar.”

“I swear.”

“Get real.”

You start to vacate your seat when a large hand shoots up and grabs your wrist.

“Ah ah. Tell me, miss guilty. Whatever you’re hiding from me is huge.”

Plopping back down, you think about exactly what you want to say, knowing that you’re not giving that secret up. You divulged pretty much everything else that happened over the weekend: the way Yoongi came over, the way he took you back to his place, and everything that went down while you were there. 

But there’s one thing you are not going to uncover. 

And it’s safely hidden away in a jewelry box in your room. 

“I know what it is.”

Cocking your head, you observe your friend with narrow eyes, horrified for a split second that he’ll be right yet again. “What then?”

“He asked you out.”

And Taehyung finally misses by a longshot.

“Hell no!” 

“He did, didn’t he! I knew it. He has it even worse than you do.” 

A laugh leaves your throat before you can stop it. Your friend can say whatever he wants but that is certainly not the case. There’s no way.

Besides, the dating stage is a pipe dream, so there’s no need to even entertain that. 

This week is just… a separate timeline. Broken off from the normal passing of things and sectioned off for the two of you to play pretend.

“He does not have it worse than I do,” you finally sigh, placing your chin in a palm and watching a love confession unfold in countless pixels. “And he did not ask me out. You said yourself he doesn’t do relationships.”

“Technically, no. But it’s not like he hasn’t been in one before.”

That’s true. You remember Yoongi had a couple more-than-flings, or regulars as all your brother’s friends referred to them as. But even then, it seemed he kept his options open. At least, from what you somewhat gathered by passing rumors on the sidewalk and in several cramped garages. 

But him? With you? 

Fairytales aren’t real. 

Opportunities are. 

And the both of you just happened to seize this particular one by the throat. 

“I know, Tae,” you sigh as you turn away from the screen. Love confessions aren’t exactly real, either. Not like the ones in shows that seem to be perfect and timely and precede a happily ever after. “But you know how he is.” 

“Apparently not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“He cooked with you.”

“So?”

Taehyung shoots you a look that screams for you to get his point. “That’s some married life shit!”

“Stop!” you gasp, burying your head further into your hand. “It’s not a big deal!”

“When have you ever heard of him cooking with someone, let alone letting you stay after fucking?”

“I don’t keep tabs on him, Tae.”

“You should now. But ignoring that.” He flops his legs down on the ground and shifts himself forward, his turn to watch the aftermath of the confession. “I’ve never heard him do that with anyone ever since his last relationship.” 

“So?”

“I dunno. I just…” Biting a nail, Taehyung keeps his eyes unblinking. “It’s interesting. Since he practically swore off them since then.”

Ah. 

You didn’t know that.

You also weren’t exactly privy to his last real relationship anyway, since it happened while you were still in university. 

But you do remember your brother getting irritated and slightly annoyed that he barely saw him once he was in one. 

You wonder what Yoongi’s like with someone he’s willing to commit to. And you wonder if it’s even better than what you experienced yesterday. 

Fuck. Your heart starts to hurt at the prospect of that being true. 

Because yesterday was one of the best days of your life. 

“You look happy,” Taehyung continues, snipping your thoughts in two. “I won’t deny that.”

And you turn back to face the television and admit, “I am.”

“But I’m also trying to stay realistic.” 

“Yeah.”

“So if you ever feel like the ride’s too rough, get off.”

“…Yeah.”

It’s nightfall when you finally decide to flip open the jewelry box in your room, taking out the top layer to reveal its hidden section underneath. 

And the key that you were given twenty-four hours ago.

Your stare is long before you finally decide to fish it out, feeling all the possibilities that come with it in your fingers. All the doors that have been opened with this one gesture alone.

The spare is heavier now than when you first took it.

Gnawing on your lip, you bring it all the way to your bed, halfway sitting on the edge and contemplating whether to even use it or not. 

Do you give in the first night? Is that being too eager? Too clingy? It’s possible that Yoongi would think so even if he never said anything. Even though you were able to get to know him a lot more than you expected, that man is still a walking enigma. You still don’t exactly know how he truly operates.

…But what if you don’t use it tonight and he takes it the wrong way? 

That’s also a probable case. Maybe he expects you to use it already and, if you prove him wrong, he’ll come home to an empty apartment. How would he feel then? Would he even care? 

Frankly, would Yoongi even care whether you used the key or not? 

Fuck! 

A loud groan flies out of your throat and shoots through your ceiling, and you flop back onto your sheets, weighed down by the mountain of thoughts in your head.

There’s another reason why you haven’t reached a solid decision yet. 

Yoongi hasn’t texted or called since this morning. 

It was a quick conversation between the two of you, and the content wasn’t anything major. However, that was the last time you heard from him, even after you texted him to see how work was going, wondering if it was a hell of a lot better than your day.

And still, hours and hours later, nothing.

What Taehyung said earlier flashes in your mind with blinking red letters, but you shoo it away before you let it permeate further into your thoughts. Your week with Yoongi has only just started. No reason to get overworked with stress already.

In any case, maybe it’s best for you not to go over there until he texts back. Like he said before handing you his spare—though, you can only speculate because the entire night turned fuzzy after that—he didn’t know how the week was gonna go.

So it’s highly possible he’s just neck deep in work and can’t talk. And who are you to bother him?

You slowly get up to grab your phone before putting the key back in its hiding spot. Typing away, you create and delete and create and delete and finally decide on a message to send before getting ready for bed.

You [typing]: Next time!

You: 

You [typing]: You got this !!

You:

You:

You: 

You [10:33pm]: 😴

Tuesday hands you yet another rough day at work. 

Nothing seems to move in a positive direction; the leadership decisions make no sense; people are getting snippy. Everything is puncturing your brain to find its breaking point and quite frankly it’s gonna be found soon enough. 

What’s worse: none of your texts to Yoongi have been read. Not the text from last night, nor the short ones you sent this morning. 

Essentially, everything sucks right now. 

The last few hours of your workday crawl by, and you’re practically bolting out the door when it’s finally over. Hoping that you hear back from any of the jobs you applied for over the weekend. 

Thank god Yoongi told you to—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Staring at your phone, your heart leaps out to get to your car before you do. 

What the hell? How does he manage to catch you at the most ideal times? You feel incredibly relieved just to see his name. 

As you answer the call, you wonder if you could ever have that same effect on him. 

“Hi.”

“Hey. Finally leaving the fucking studio.”

Oh, shit. He sounds downright pissed. 

Body alert, you open your car door and get inside. “Damn. You okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Hold on. “When you say finally…”

“We’ve been in there since yesterday. I would’ve called you but Kook snatched up all our phones.” 

Holy hell. That explains the complete radio silence, at least. Your shoulders feel much, much lighter, despite your concern for Yoongi and all the crap he’s going through himself. “Oh, shit. You let him do that?” 

“He’s just lucky you picked up.” 

You laugh while feeling a strange bubbling in your stomach. “He’s also lucky I’m a forgiving person.” 

“So am I.” 

“But damn, I’m sorry—” Words die on your tongue. You almost said baby at the end of that sentence. Oh, fuck.

Tae was right. You’ve got it stupid bad. 

Your eyes squeeze shut at the thought of actually saying that out loud, embarrassment from something that didn’t even happen coating your entire body. Recovering as best as you can, you look to humor by default. 

“I should’ve gone over and made food again,” you joke after clearing your throat. “Then you’d never win against me.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

“Giving up already?” 

“I do that a lot.” 

You blow air out of your mouth as you pull out of the parking lot, relishing the orange and purple hues of late afternoon skies. “Lazy!” 

“Less work. And more food.” 

“You know what, you can make your own damn dinner. I’m tired of you.” 

A light chuckle fills your car’s speakers before Yoongi responds, 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Mm. I was gonna come over but now I think I’ll just stay home.” 

“Is that right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m coming over.” 

Your fingers immediately grip your steering wheel. “Wait! People could see.” 

“It’s one or the other, doll. Better choose quick.” 

“Okay, okay,” you rush out through a growing grin. “I’ll come over for a bit.” 

“A bit?” 

“Yes, for a bit.” As you make your way through intersections, you shake your head at how easy it is for Yoongi to make your day. You feel like someone shouldn’t get to have this power, and yet you are nothing but grateful for him. 

On your way past a line of restaurants, an idea comes to mind. “Did you eat yet?”

“Nah. You?”

“No, I’m starving,” you sigh, starting to suggest that he meet you somewhere before realizing that you can’t quite do that. Damn. “I can get food then head over.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You got it last time.”

“Suit yourself.”

Swallowing the slight sadness you feel, you tell yourself to stay in the moment. Take advantage of this time you have with him without muddying it with future worries. Your voice comes out quiet when you let him go, 

“See you soon then.” 

And his comes out just as soft. 

“See ya.” 

It’s stupid. 

But you wanted to do it anyway.

Holding his spare key in your fingers, you rub its metallic surface, shaking your head at yourself for going all the way home just to get it before grabbing food. Doing so made the whole trip much longer, but at least it also gave you an excuse to change out of your work clothes and freshen up a bit before coming. 

Besides. When else will you get a chance to do this? When else are you ever going to get this opportunity again? 

Plastic bags rustling under your determined wrist, you slide the key in his lock, twisting it and hearing the mechanisms click.

Strange. 

Unlocking Yoongi’s door feels so significant, even though it’s such a mundane, everyday thing on its own accord. People do it all the time, and yet… Doing so gives you a feeling you can’t quite place. 

Swinging the entrance open, you expect to see it lit and have at least something happening. 

But you’re greeted with nothing. 

It’s enough to make you worry.

Were you gone for that long? Did he assume you weren’t coming anymore and already go to sleep?  

“...Yoongi?” 

No response cuts through the dark of the living room. In fact, there isn’t even a hint of activity following your question. For a moment, you think he didn’t even make it back—until the faint light and sound slipping under his bedroom door pull you in. 

Your bags shift as you tiptoe across the front area and, with each ginger step, you’re hoping that whatever greets you behind that wooden barrier doesn’t make you flee. 

But when you finally near the blocked entryway, you freeze with your hand on the knob.

Because the muffled sound you hear is not just noise.

But a recording.

It’s him.

In all the times you wondered about Yoongi’s music equipment and from what he told you about his job, you rarely thought about him doing anything other than production. Sure, you entertained the idea of him on a mic, but nothing you imagined sounded like what you’re hearing now.

Do you even go in there? 

Honestly, it feels like you would intrude if you did. 

But, knowing Yoongi, he would probably tell you to do it anyway. Or at least try to. 

So you set your stuff down on his kitchen table before going back to the door, slowly opening it and peeking your head inside. 

Oh.

Adorable.

Instead of seeing him tapping away in the dark on a keyboard or clicking buttons, all you see is his head buried in the crook of his sleeved elbow, his sleeping form faintly outlined blue by the light of his monitor. 

How long did you actually take?

Moving toward him, you try not to take in the looped recording too much to preserve that privacy he wanted. But damn it, the piece sounds incredible and you can’t help but feel proud of him for this one soundbite alone. 

When you approach Yoongi’s side, you swallow your selfishness and pause the music. 

And you already wanna hear him again.

Suddenly coated in silence, you lightly place a hand on his arm before whispering his name. After he doesn’t move the first time, you give him a gentle shake. “Yoongi?”

A deep inhale comes out of him before he lifts his head, and your brain practically resets when you notice he’s wearing the same glasses you saw months ago. 

He turns to regard you with sleepy eyes. “Hey, doll.”

“Hey,” you whisper, melting on the inside. “Come eat for a sec.” 

“Mmph.” Slowly, he turns his gaze to his monitor before squinting, bringing both hands up to rub his face afterwards. 

Giggling, your admiration for his groggy state comes through in your teasing, “Sleepyhead. Come on, it won’t take long. Then you can pass out.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t move, though he does offer you a nod. 

Looks like you gotta do this the hard way. 

Softly, you wrap your hand around his arm and pull upward, giving enough strength until he obliges and stands with you. 

And you don’t know why you do what you do next—the cute way he looks, the fact that it’s something you’ve been wanting to do for awhile now, whatever—but you do it without much thought. 

You slip your fingers down both his sleeves to take his hands in yours, telling yourself that you’re just doing it to get him across his room. 

From past experience, you know his palms are rough. But when you have them cradled in yours, you don’t expect them to also be warm. Maybe it’s all those hoodies and long sleeves he always wears. 

And it’s almost awkward to hold his hands, but a good kind of awkward. Just… different. New. 

With all these thoughts swirling around your head, you get thrown completely off guard when Yoongi takes your fingers in his and pulls you in and oh fuck his lips are on yours now what the—

Your surprise comes out muffled as you’re slowly backed up all the way to his open door, jumping a little in shock and something else when your shoulder blades hit.

But he’s undeterred. Yoongi’s deep, slow, determined kisses keep coming, even while he closes his fingers around yours and languidly pins a hand next to your ear. Breathing through your nose, you feel his beautiful weight on your chest and stomach, matching his lazy but full licks and sucks as best as you can muster. 

Why does this feel so good? Kissing had never felt this magical before. Every motion bends time itself and melts your legs into mush; heat and sparks erupt under your skin, your veins hot but never as molten as his. Smell, taste, touch. All of these are heightened and yet drowned in seconds. 

What is this feeling? What is this burning hearth in your chest? It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced, and you know this is a moment you’ll remember for a very, very long time. 

But as all other good things do, this kiss comes to an end, surrendering to heavy breaths and a forehead pressing against yours.

“I’m so exhausted,” Yoongi murmurs. “But I can’t stop kissing you.” 

Fuck. 

Don’t give in. 

You just know it’s something he would say to anyone in your position. You can’t think you’re special. You just can’t. Not when your emotions are at their absolute peak after that stunning, incredible… 

Screw it.

“Then don’t.”

You initiate this time, capturing Yoongi’s lips so suddenly that he jerks back before gripping you harder. 

Whatever he attempts to say comes out in a groan instead, but he recovers to lean forward and pin you right back against his door. 

And the intensity jumps tenfold. The swipes he drags against your tongue, the thrust against your hips, the growls he slips into your mouth—all of them juxtapose how tired he looks. And you are absolutely caught in an inherent magnetism that only he can possess even on the verge of exhaustion. 

It feels like an eternity can pass and you would still be fine staying exactly where you are: right here, in his embrace, lips locked as tight as your hands. 

But reality starts to win as you both come down from your high—lowering, and lowering, and lowering—and Yoongi dips right back into his sluggish demeanor. 

Feeling his head droop onto your shoulder, you offer him a smile he can’t see as you pat his arm. “Eat. Then you can sleep.” 

“Mm.” 

“Come on,” you encourage through a whisper, and you once again guide him out of his room and to his kitchen table. 

Silently apologizing, you go to flip on the stove light to illuminate the area enough to see. As warm yellow spills into the small dining area, you walk back over to see Yoongi inspecting what you brought.

“I hope what I got is okay,” you say with little confidence.

You decided on a popular local chain, but you had to guess at what Yoongi would order there. Judging from the way he nods before digging in, you made the right choices. 

That’s enough for you. Smiling to yourself, you take a seat in the middle chair before unboxing your meal. 

“This is actually what I get from here.”

“Really?” you chirp as you smell the aromas coming from both dishes. “Dope. It’s what I get, too.” 

“You got good taste then,” Yoongi responds with a lift of his mouth, and you both huff out tiny laughs. 

At least a few parts of your day are going well. The kiss was enough to last you a lifetime, but getting Yoongi’s preferences right? Which happen to also be yours? You’re floating. 

But after a few minutes of silence go by, you start to sink back down to earth. Not because of the lack of conversation—it’s quite comfortable. You just start to move your food around more than eat it, thinking about your job and how you really don’t want to go back tomorrow. 

Normally, you would rant about work woes with your friends, or Taehyung. But can you do the same with Yoongi? Would he care to really listen to boring stuff like that? 

“You good?”

Snapping your head up, you see a concerned stare resting behind thin specs, fiery hair a bit dulled in the low lighting. 

“I’m good now,” you admit. “Work was just stupid.” 

“I feel that.” 

Nodding, you sigh before adjusting yourself in your chair, ultimately deciding to spare him all the dumb details about your day. 

Besides, he’s clearly tired. You don’t wanna give him more things to deal with. So you settle on something he already knows about and let it end there. “I just hope I hear from one of those listings soon.”

“You will,” Yoongi assures. “Give’em time.”

Not expecting any response from him at all, you trudge on before holding back. “Okay. I just don’t wanna be stuck, you know?” 

A small snort leaps from his seat. “Out of everybody I know? You wouldn’t let that happen.”

You can only stare at him before looking away. 

How is Yoongi able to quell your worries so fast all the time? Is he like this with everyone? If he is, no wonder he’s gotten so many people in the palm of his hand. No wonder every person on the planet wants to steal a bit of his heart. 

It’s one thing to be attractive physically. But Yoongi’s mental? It makes you have to stop yourself from launching across the table to attack him again.

Guarding your heart from getting ahead of itself, you put your chin in one of your hands. “Everyone should pay you for making them feel better all the time.” 

“Huh?”

“You always know what to say to people.” 

Without missing a beat, Yoongi responds. 

“I hate people.” 

“Liar!” you laugh out, inwardly sighing at the shit grin he beams you with. “You can’t be this nice and not like anyone.”

He simply shakes his head. When he starts to explain, his voice seems to drag across the ocean floor, 

“I don’t think you get it, doll.” 

“Hmm?”

“I’m not like this with just anyone.” 

Ah.

Roaming your eyes over his sure features, shyness quickly takes over and you become quite interested in the scratch marks in his table. 

“But I mean it,” Yoongi says. “Someone will be gunning for you any day now. Don’t worry about it too much.” 

A rueful smile slowly carves itself into your face. For someone that tends to overthink and wonder about every little thing, hearing things like this mean the world. 

Before, the only person that could really talk sense into you was Taehyung. But it didn’t even take a handful of times for Yoongi to fill that same kind of role, whether it’s been hours or months between the times you’ve seen him.

Frankly, it’s scary how quickly you’re able to feel this connected despite your different walks of life, and the overall feeling lodged in your chest is hard to describe. 

It’s like seeing a long lost friend that you were meant to find again.

Overcome with a swell of emotion, you stare at your finished food. Because there’s no way you can look anywhere else. The only thing you can get out of your slightly clogged throat is a tiny, 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s true,” Yoongi responds through a sudden yawn. Covering his mouth before rubbing the bottom half of his face, he exhales. “Honestly, I’m shocked you came back.” 

You regard him again. “Like this town?”

He nods, eyes already shutting.

And you hum in return, all the decisions you made in the past washing up in the forefront of your mind. 

You don’t think he’d want to hear any of that, either. So you simply sum it up with a much more succinct, 

“Me, too.”  

Closing your box, you put all the trash in one of the plastic bags, mind filled with your day and all the feelings you can’t come to terms with. So much is clouding your thoughts that you don’t realize that he’s dozing off in his seat until seconds later. 

Pausing in your movements, you whisper, “Yoongi?” 

“Mm.”

Technically, it’s not late, but you know he still has to wake up pretty early. And it doesn’t help that he probably didn’t get much rest while camped in the studio. 

Concern laces your voice as you ask, “You sure you can wake up on time tomorrow?” 

He inhales before sighing. “I dunno. But I gotta.” 

Damn. 

Whatever they’re working on must be incredibly important if he’s this determined. The late nights, the lockdowns, the taken phones. All of it must be weighing on his shoulders and yet he is the one making you feel better?

Maybe you can help him out. You can be his strength just as he can be yours. 

“I can stay. I just need to go home and get my stuff.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, hair slightly parting in the motion. “You don’t have to, doll.” 

“I have to get up early for work anyway. I’ll just leave from here.” 

Silent, you plead him to let you help. You’ve done it before to make sure your secret wasn’t blown, but this time is purely out of selflessness. 

And Yoongi grants you your wish when he sighs out a faint, 

“Okay.” 

The plan was to simply go home, get your stuff, then head back.

You did not plan to get a call from one of your friends on the way there.

Cursing at the caller ID, you compose yourself before accepting, eyes back on the road when not one, but three of them answer your greeting.

“Hey, babe!”

“Where are you? Come out!”

“We haven’t seen you in forever, bitch!”

Oh, shit. 

You tense, hoping they aren’t in a car and can see you driving back to your place. “I can’t tonight,” you finally remember to respond, mind whirling with possible escape routes because—

“Why not!”

“Where have you been!”

“You don’t have shit to do!”

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Gripping your wheel, you dart your eyes along the streets before swallowing your truths. 

If it were any other night, you would keep your secret under wraps and let Yoongi know the change of plans. You’d go out with them and make it up to him later. 

But not tonight.

Damn, why did they have to call now! 

Purposefully lowering your voice, you groan, “I’ve been sick. Stomachache… I’m sorry.”

“Awhhh, babe.”

“Wait, you sound like you’re in a car, though…”

Fuck! 

“Yeah, just getting stuff from the store. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

The line has a bunch of hums and groans, and you know that some of your friends don’t buy it. But thankfully, they don’t pry tonight. 

“Alright, well let us know next time so we can get you soup or something.”

“Yeah, you know we got you!”

“Feel better soon, kay?”

You love them.

You hate lying to them.

“I’ll make it up to y’all, okay? Promise.”

“Oh, you’re good!”

“Feel better!”

“I’ll hold you to that, shit, forget about them.”

The laughs on the line welcome yours as you join them, and you thank everything out there that they let you go this time. 

But as you say goodbye and the line cuts out, your heart drops with a thud. 

This. 

This is what it would be like if the two of you keep seeing each other on the regular. 

You somehow avoided it for a couple days, but now reality is coming back to play. And next time, your friends may start to suspect something’s up. 

Which is why you need to make the most of this week while you can. 

Being in Yoongi’s bathroom a few times now, it’s a lot different when you’re in there to get ready for bed. 

After your friends gave you mini heart attacks, you were so frazzled that all you did when you went home was gather clothes and all your toiletries before hauling ass back out. 

Which lead you to having to get ready at the same counter that Yoongi uses everyday—minus the times he’s forced to stay in studios. 

But you go through your nightly routine, head filled with several thoughts and worries and feelings, the most recent being the way your chest constricted when you unlocked Yoongi’s door to find him sleeping in his bedroom. 

What would it be like to have that as your normal? 

How are you in this position at all?

Looking back at the very first time you trembled for minutes on his rude welcome mat, you cannot fathom how it went from that moment to this one. 

He gave you a key to the door that you were terrified to knock on. 

You still can’t believe it. 

Brimming with butterflies, you finish up and vacate Yoongi’s bathroom, rounding his bed to gently nestle into your side—moreso the least amount of space that you can muster. Setting your alarms, you rest your phone down before slipping your eyes shut.

You almost think about settling in closer, but you don’t want to cross any other boundaries that he could have. Accidentally hearing his recording was egregious enough.

But Yoongi’s croaky voice startles your bones.

“You didn’t have to do this.” 

“I didn’t. But this is much better than calling you.” 

He huffs out a low laugh. “True.” 

And you think that’s the end of your conversation.

Until he speaks again. 

“You gonna hang off the edge like that all night?”

“I…” 

“Come here.” 

Oh.

You turn under the covers to see faint moonlight reflecting in his drooping eyes, and you wonder how someone like him should even be allowed to exist.

Shifting forward, your chest rattles when Yoongi lifts an arm to bring you close, and he plants the softest kiss on your forehead before whispering gratitude again.

“No problem,” you sigh into the warmth of his covered chest, inhaling the scent around you that is purely him. 

Quickly after, Yoongi is lost to slumber.

So you couldn’t tell him how you just lied to your friends.

Goddamn, your alarm is annoying.

But it works like a charm.

Sleepily tapping it off your screen, you twist in place. “Hey,” you whisper with eyes half-closed, “You awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

The power of your obnoxious alarm. You’re actually embarrassed to wake another person up with it, but you chose to do this in the first place. 

“Good.”

Both of your voices are heavy with sleep as Yoongi rubs his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

“What time you gotta leave?”

“By six,” you yawn, unwittingly snuggling into his chest and hearing him softly laugh through his nose.

You feel a hand on your thigh before Yoongi lazily slings your leg over his, and your brain lights up at his admittance,

“I like you like this.”

“Mm,” is all you manage before your post-sleep brain rebels and says something else. “What else do you like…” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’re always asking me…” You breathe through your nose. “What do you like?” 

You only get silence, and it goes on for so long that you figure everything just happened in your own head. As you start to doze off again, Yoongi’s raspy vocals rumble under your cheek,

“Kiss me.” 

Lifting your head, you blink slowly before pushing up far enough to press your lips down onto his, breathing in deep through your nose. 

The same hand resting on your leg slips down to the curve of your ass, and you quietly hum before Yoongi pulls away slightly. 

“Kiss my neck.” 

Staring down at his lidded eyes, you nod before lowering your lips, feeling his heartbeat beneath your chest. As you latch lips onto his column, you shut your eyes and preen at the deep groan Yoongi releases. Its vibrations scatter across your covered skin, forcing your hand to come up and lightly clutch the front of his shirt. 

He cocks his head to the side to give you more room, humming low, “Mm. Just like that.”

His praise makes you bold, and you sleepily swirl your tongue over a vein before pressing deeper into his smooth skin. When he tenses, you keep swiping over that same spot, becoming more and more awake with each hiss he lets out. 

Suddenly, your hand is clasped before he lowers your fingers, and you flinch when you feel his hard-on confined by sweats. Your breath whooshes onto the expanse of his neck, and before you can grab at him, Yoongi guides your hand somewhere else. 

Somewhere much higher, and a lot more surprising. 

Pulling away entirely, you watch him with intent from above. At your curiosity, he simply explains,

“Choke me.” 

What?

Did you hear him right? Or are you still sleeping and all of this isn’t real?

With your fingers resting on the silky base of his neck, you blink. “You like that?” 

“Uh huh.” 

Well. You didn’t expect him to admit anything close to that, and his matter of factness is frankly attractive. 

Instead of obliging right away, you slide your hand down to rake your nails over his nipple first, offering a tiny, miniscule, sleepy smirk of your own as Yoongi does the same. 

Biting a corner of his lip, he warns, “Careful, baby girl.”

You chuckle as you bring your fingers to the base of his throat. “Or else what…”

“Or else—Fuck,” Yoongi groans with a sharp tilt of his head, feeling the sudden press of your fingers around his neck. 

You don’t choke him completely, having never done this before. But the pressure you give seems to be more than enough for him, and your eyes blow wide at the way his eyebrows knit in pleasure. 

Goddamn, he looks absolutely incredible like this.

Shrouded in sleep and lust, you swoop your head down to lap at his column again, letting instinct take over. 

Curses and hisses fly out of Yoongi’s lips, and you drink them in until you feel legitimately drunk on his reactions alone.

You didn’t expect to enjoy giving him pleasure this much. If you are truthful with yourself, you don’t want to stop. You almost want to keep him here and never let him go. 

“Fuck, hold on,” he hisses, suddenly gripping your wrist in frustration. And you relent. Though you aren’t happy about it. “I gotta go soon, doll.” 

As much as you want him all to yourself, to explore this new territory he allowed you to have, there’s no way you can keep him from what he needs to do. 

So you pull away, reveling in the angry, flushed appearance of his upper chest. You sincerely wish you tore off his shirt before everything started. 

If you get the chance to continue…

Smirking again and wondering if he’s rubbing off on you, you airily joke, “That’s too bad.. Looks like you’ll have to wait for the rest.” 

“What a tease.” 

“Learned from the worst.” 

You smile and he curves his mouth up in return. A squeak leaves you when he turns the tables with a flick of his hand, grabbing the back of your head to kiss your entire soul out.

Your eyes are still swirling when he pulls away, and you rise into a sitting position as he gets up with a laugh. 

Grabbing a necklace from his nightstand, Yoongi looks at you taking up the middle of his mattress. But he doesn’t say anything before heading to his bathroom. 

As soon as he’s inside, you expel all the air that you had been holding. All the pent up adrenaline that built while you were caught up in whatever just happened. 

You want more of that. So, so much more of that. 

And you also wanna stay in his bed, but you know that would be a little too much. Too domestic. So you scoot to the edge of his sheets and start to get ready for your own day. 

As you reach for your phone, you gnaw on your bottom lip out of pure giddiness, thinking about when and how to continue what you both just started.

Until you see the onslaught of notifications on your lock screen.

jackson trash [12:30am]: open the door !!!

dpr doormat [12:30am]: biiiish r u home? u better b alive

bibi’s whore [12:34am]: we brought u stuff<33 

Taeee😪[12:57am]: You at home?

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3) 

Taeee😪[1:30am]: Pick up!

Taeee😪[1:32am]: Where are you??? 

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3) 

Taeee😪[1:51am]: Bro pick up ur phone

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (2) 

Taeee😪[2:50am]: You owe me :|

Stare burning into your screen, your jaw hits the floor as your shoulders push upward in fear. Immediately, you lock all the way up, your reaction whooshing out in a low, sharp,

“Oh, shit.” 

“You good?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Yoongi standing just outside his bathroom, scratching one of his elbows. 

And you almost say that it’s nothing, that there isn’t anything wrong.

But then you remember the countless times he’s told you that you can tell him anything. And in your panicked state, you decide to take the plunge and finally give into his wishes. 

“Well, uhh. No, actually. It’s my friends.” You look back down at your phone, gnawing your lip. “I’m a little worried.”  

Yoongi crosses the room, rounding his bed while swiping a hoodie from his desk chair. “About?”  

When he walks right up to you, all you can do is stare. Just for a bit. Because even minutes after waking up, he looks so handsome. 

And looking at him is enough to calm you down.

But suddenly, he tosses his jacket onto the bed before bringing both hands forward, holding your hips and bringing you closer. “About what, doll?” 

Fuck. Get yourself together, get your thoughts back in order. Clearing your throat, you let out the rest of your problems, hyper aware of the way his fingers rest on your sides, “They might think I’m dodging them. I said I couldn’t go out last night.” 

Instead of pulling away, Yoongi simply leans in, latching velvety lips onto your neck and kissing your tension away. Small breaths leave your mouth before he mutters, “What did you say?”

“That I felt sick.” 

Huffs of small laughter tickle your column. “Guess they didn’t buy that.”

You sigh as he keeps lapping at your throat, tilting your head to prolong not feeling so shitty. If it wasn’t for the hands gripping your sides—or the arms you clasp around his neck—you definitely would have collapsed to the ground by now. “Guess not... I wonder… if they tried the house.”

The moan you release spurns Yoongi to press your body back, and you feel the cool spackle of his wall instead of his door this time. As your back makes harder contact with the rough surface, you grunt into the kiss he plants on your lips. 

You don’t know exactly why he’s all over you like this. Is it to distract you from worrying like you assumed? Is it because you’re finally doing what he’s been asking this whole time? Or is it because he wants to continue where you just left off because you sure as hell want that same exact thing. Anything else be damned right now.

If only it were that easy.

Yoongi’s voice still has a hint of sleep as he continues to question you, and you appreciate his willingness to help in any way. Especially since his way involves wrapping his arms further around you and resting them on your lower back. “You park inside, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How would they know you weren’t home then?” 

“Maybe they knocked? I dunno...” 

Yoongi pulls away. When his eyes roam your face, you wish you had some semblance of normalcy in your features instead of the sleepiness and stress you feel creasing your forehead. “You okay?” 

“I… No. But. We can talk about it later. You gotta go.” 

“Fuck, I do. But hey.” He gives you another kiss, as if he has all the time in the world. “Just tell me what you want. Okay?” 

Your vision remains cloudy from the pillowy soft touch of his lips, and your words float off your tongue, 

“What do you mean?” 

You can tell that Yoongi doesn’t respond how he wants to, but he’s already backing up and heading out. 

“I meant what I said.” 

“Okay,” you call out to his back, and you watch him make his way through his apartment, looking at you one more time before clicking the entryway shut.

The rest of your day is slathered in anxiety and worry. 

You manage to make it home without falling apart, though choosing to leave your stuff at Yoongi’s for just a bit longer.

To combat the impending calls you have to make, you breathe. Focus on quelling the storm in your stomach. Latch onto anything that grounds you. 

The first thing you think about is being a kid again. How things were so simple, the only drama you encountered being playground fights. Then you think about other things, like memories and accomplishments and book quotes you’ve stored for safekeeping.

But slowly, the only thing that appears in your mind is a tidy apartment, with a kitchen filled with laughs and cold water all over the floors.

You can’t deny how at ease you feel when you’re in his place. Even when you were there alone, it was peaceful. It felt… 

Clearly, you don’t want to let go of whatever feelings you have harbored in your chest. You want to make the most of them.

Before things have to reset.

Of course, the dark side of this week presented itself like a bright red spot on a blank canvas. Taehyung’s texts and calls could mean a thousand things, and the only thing that kept you from outright panic was him saying that you owed him. 

Whatever happened was resolved. For now.

But nothing can stop you from feeling the guilt. The icky jitters in your stomach. The slight bit of shame from needing to tuck secrets away and wondering how to go about things. 

What’s worse: knowing that it can’t ever be real with Yoongi unless something drastic changes. Which is why you can’t let yourself feel this way for much longer.

But the fact of the matter is that the two of you have barely started whatever this is. It’s not like you have a hold on him at all, even if he confirmed that he wasn’t seeing anyone else. 

Maybe he operates differently now than he used to? You don’t know. 

Whatever. Right now, you have to figure out how to get your friends off your back because things can get sticky real quick if they decide to snoop.

But first: call Taehyung.

It has to happen eventually. Even if you text him, you’d get an incoming call before your message even gets through. 

So on the way to work, you brace yourself and do it, which turns out to be a loud mistake.

“You owe me big!”

“I know, Tae, I’m so sorry—”

“You know how hard I had to cover for you?”

“No… What happened?”

You hear him sigh before he questions, 

“You told them you were sick, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you were just gonna stay home?”

“Yeah.”

“But you weren’t actually there, were you?”

You wince as you roll up to a red light. 

“No.”

“Mm. Guess who had to lie and say you were at their place.”

Shutting your eyes in shame, you exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“Lemme finish. Guess who also had to weasel their way out of a videocall since people didn’t believe them.”

“Shit.” You feel so bad. He didn’t have to do all of that for you. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I’m not giving up my secrets to a sneak!”

“Tae!”

“Like I said: you owe me.”

Your building comes into view as you agree, “I do. I’m really sorry.”

“Just let me know next time so I’m more prepared, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And you’re buying me lunch and dinner.” 

“I will. Promise.”

There’s a big sigh on the line, and you bite your lip in anticipation. You know he’s not done with you yet. 

But all Taehyung says is a soft handful of words, and your heart caves inward just a tad.

“We can handle your friends.” 

“I know.”

“But it won’t be the same with him.”

You are fully aware of who he’s referring to. Because you already thought about the same exact thing. 

As you park, you stare at your steering wheel but don’t quite look at it. 

“I know.” 

The only good thing about the mountain of worries you have to deal with? 

They’re enough to dull your senses at work, and that’s saying something. 

Somehow, you also request to take tomorrow off. And somehow, your request is accepted. Whether it’s the fact that you almost never ask off, or the wound-up way you look, you’ll take it. 

After you make it back home, you carry your tired bones to your bed, flopping down and forcing yourself to clear your head as best as you can. 

Fuck, you hate feeling this way. 

You gotta fess up to your friends. 

Of course, not everything. But you have got to tell them some of the truth so that their concern doesn’t dissolve into suspicion. 

So you’ll confess a thing or two. You’ll just leave Yoongi’s name out of it.

After you take a nice, needed, absurdly long nap. 

Taeee😪: Outgoing Call

“Come to grovel at my feet again? Or are you paying up?”

“Neither.” 

“Oh. Bye then.”

“Wait!” You shift under your blankets, sitting up and hunching over. “I’m gonna tell them.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna tell them.”

“About him?”

“No, no. Not everything. Just… that I’m seeing someone.”

There’s a quick pause before Taehyung slowly questions,

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I feel queasy.”

“Ah. And that’s what we call a self-fulfilling prophecy, miss stomachache.”

“Shut up,” you groan. “But I just wanted to tell you first, since you worked so hard to cover for me.” 

“Be my guest, babe. I just look like a ride or die. And you already agreed to get me food.”

“Okay.”

“Good luck.”

You hang up before looking at the threads you hastily apologized in earlier, wondering which one of them to call. Anyone would be a good choice. But anyone could also be a terrible one. 

Ugh. 

Your fingers flex and curl, and you start to play with your nails while lost in thought.

But you finally decide and click on the top message to fake fairness, turning to bury your head in your pillow and hide from possible horrible outcomes. 

bibi’s whore: Outgoing Call 

Your name immediately crunches through your receiver. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? We were so worried!”

Lifting your head, you groan, “I know. I’m so sorry.” 

“As long as you’re all good.” 

“I am.” 

“Okay, good. Tae told us—”

“He lied.”

“What?”

A swallow lodges in your throat. This is harder than you expected, but you keep pushing through. “He covered for me.” 

“...The hell does that mean?”

Well. It’s now or never. Hopefully she will understand. Or yell at you. Ugh. 

Sitting up, you confess to your phone screen, “I… I may or may not be seeing someone.”

A screech on the other line makes you jump, and you fight a wide grin of surprise. 

“Bitch! I believed you and everything!” 

Why were you so worried? Of course they would be elated. Your friends have been encouraging you to get around more anyway, so this reaction is one you should’ve expected. 

The taboo of it being Yoongi just kept you from thinking anything positive would come out of this. If you weren’t so giddy you would be gritting your teeth in pure frustration.

Pleasant shock pumping through your veins, you cover your forehead. “I know, I’m sorry. I just froze!” 

“I get it, I get it. Did you tell the others yet?”

“No, but don’t tell just anyone. Only you three can know. I’m just too tired to do this two more times.”

“Who is it? Do we know them? Is it J—”

“It is not him, but. This is all you get for now,” you lie while doused in a strange cocktail of relief and embarrassment, sticking with your earlier decision. You feel a lot better about this fib, since they’ll know part of the truth. “Just in case it falls through.”

“Mmm, that means the sex is fucking fire.”

“Reia!” 

“What! I can hear it in your voice, babe. Shit, you might be in love.”

You scoff at your window, noticing that it’s way past sunset already. “As if.” 

“But I get it. Sorry if we pressured you into spilling.”

“Are you kidding? I felt guilty the entire day. I love y’all too much.”

“Awhh… Don’t even worry about that. We’ve all been there. Yuri’s still sneaking around with that one guy even though she won’t admit it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And you know Dom and I are leaving our options open. Everyone’s got their own shit to deal with. So you do you.” 

Sighing, you play with your comforter, noticing how it’ll never be as soft and comforting as Reia. You can’t believe you worried all damn day for virtually nothing.

This whole overthinking thing is starting to get terribly old.

Huffing, you don’t know how else to express your gratitude other than a sincere, “Thank you.” 

“Of course! Are you seeing them again tonight?”

“…Maybe.”

A giggle punctures your phone. 

“Just say yes, you sneaky bitch.”

“Yes.” You pause with a smile. “And yeah, it’s fucking fire.” 

“I knew it! Is it the same guy from last year? Fuck you!” 

“I’m not saying anything!”

“Gotta be. You didn’t say who that was, either.”

It’s true. While you told them about your mind-blowing encounter with Yoongi, you never disclosed a name. All they know is that you practically got your back blown out, and you won’t forget their shouts and praise and scoffs at your implied decision to keep it a one night stand. 

If only they knew that decision wasn’t exactly yours.

“About time you got another proper dick down. Wait, it is a guy, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Ha! That narrows it down.”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll find out eventually love you bye!”

“Bye,” you say through a grin, feeling multitudes lighter than you had in awhile. 

Thank god. Or whoever or whatever’s out there. You owe them a drink. 

Exhausted, you flop back onto your pillow with a whoosh.

Two calls is more than enough to drain your social battery, but you wanna make one more. 

After all, you feel a hell of a lot better about seeing Yoongi again. The urge is so strong that you feel like calling him just because.

But when his phone rings a few times without an answer, you hang up and watch your ceiling, awake and cocooned in your blanket. 

You can wait however long. Your mind is so much clearer now.

To your immediate surprise, Yoongi calls you back within minutes, voice wary after you greet him.

“You okay?” 

You smile. Of course that’s his first concern. If you hadn’t confessed just a few moments ago, your answer would have been completely different. “Much better. But you’re busy so I can wait.” 

“You sure?” 

“Ah, yeah. I’ll just be in bed.” 

“Yours or mine?” 

…What did he just ask?

“Oh,” you stutter out. “I’m at home.” 

But are you really? Where is home lately, if he isn’t there? 

And why did you just ask yourself that? 

“You threw away that key, huh.” 

“No!” 

“Liar.” 

“I have your key! I just.. I dunno. Using it when you’re not there is weird. Still feels like I’m intruding.” 

A laugh. 

“Then give it up.” 

“What?” 

“Gimme the key back. I’ll come get it tonight.” 

You can practically feel his stupid grin on the other line. There’s no way he’s serious, and yet you’re affected all the same.

“…Damn you, Yoongi.” 

Another laugh puffs out of him before he keeps teasing,

“What?” 

“You’re so… Ugh! Fine. I’ll keep it.” 

“It’s all up to you.” 

“Yeah? Then I’m going over there just to lock you out.” 

More hissed laughter crackles through, and you nestle into your comforter with a curve of your mouth.

“God, I love it when you’re—” 

“Yoong! Hurry up, man!” 

Oh, shit. That was Jungkook. He sounds… 

“Yoongi!” 

“Yoongi! Come back!” 

You freeze. 

Those voices were definitely higher in pitch. Truthfully, they were more like whines than anything.

Interesting. 

There’s a muffled “Yeah, one sec!” before the receiver gets uncovered again.

“Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll be back tonight.”

“Okay…” 

“Am I gonna see you?” 

Well. That’s even more interesting. Your question is timid before tiptoeing out. “…Do you want to?” 

“Course I do.” 

You already knew what your answer would be. After all, you had left all your stuff at his place, so of course you were gonna go back at some point. But after hearing what you just heard, you needed to be sure of Yoongi’s answer. You needed to be sure if you were staying.

Appearing as unbothered as you possibly could, you respond, “Okay. I’ll be there.” 

“Thank fuck.” 

Damn it. You can’t help but puff at the relief in his voice. “Such a guy.” Deciding to cake on more encouragement, you fight the dark emotion in your belly while continuing, “But don’t leave until you’re done!” 

“K.” 

He’s there to work. Right? Yes. He wouldn’t be trying shit. 

…Right? 

Mind in another frenzy, you whisper, “I believe in you. You’ll finish.” 

“I dunno about that, but.. Thanks, doll.” 

It’s later, when you rest in a bed that’s not yours, that you busy yourself with anything to distract you from rogue thoughts. Checking for emails from the job postings, flipping on Yoongi’s television, responding to the second text your brother sent asking if you were good. All of these are temporary buffers. 

But they aren’t enough. 

You think about calling your other friends, wondering how Yuri or Dom reacted to the news when Rea inevitably told them minutes after getting off the phone. But you don’t wanna deal with more of that, lest you have to make up another lie. 

So you decide on the ultimate distraction, a way to time travel without lifting a finger: sleeping.

Because Yoongi doesn’t show for hours. 

And hours. 

You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but you know that something is pulling you out of your slumber. Something warm, and soft, and feeling like you’re coming home.

With a sharp inhale, you fling your eyes open to see that Yoongi’s kissing you awake, one of his hands cradling the back of your neck and his body warmth seeping into your side. 

Is this a dream? 

“Yoon—” 

Your quick break is cut by another kiss, and you taste alcohol and citrus on his tongue before he pulls away. 

“You gotta be my good luck charm or something.” 

Eyes still adjusting to the dark of the room, you question, “Hmm?”

“We fucking finished.”

“Oh my god. Everything?” 

Yoongi nods, his hoodie sweeping the top of your head as he leans in close. 

One foot still in dreamland, you offer a smile of pride. 

Holy crap, they did it. Whatever hard work they poured into that project paid off. You can already see it. “I knew you would,” you sigh, loving the way it feels surrounded by his strong embrace. 

If only he didn’t smell like scents you know you can’t afford. 

Remembering the voices you heard earlier, you crash back down to earth and end up six feet deep in worry. 

Right. You wanted to distract yourself for a reason. You wanted to sleep away the anxiety for a reason. Because even though you and him don’t even have a solid label, you wanna know his stance. And Taehyung would tell you to figure that shit out right away, whether you’re keeping tabs on him or not.

“I dunno how,” Yoongi responds while you muster up enough courage to talk, “But you were right.” 

“Naturally,” you whisper. 

Say something.

Keep being brave enough to tell him what’s bothering you.

No overthinking this one.

As he leans in again for another kiss, you press a hand into his chest and take the first step. “Wait.”

Yoongi stops on a dime.

Unblinking and hoping his answer is one you can take, you sigh, “Can… Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

As you speak, you watch his eyes dart across your face in concern. “This is so stupid. But. I heard… people, on the phone. And I smell… perfume. I know we aren’t a thing, but. I don’t think I can do this if—” 

You’re lucky that Yoongi cuts in before you can finish. 

“Hey. Listen.” He sits up before telling you to follow suit. When you do, he looks toward his window, expression indiscernible as he watches moonlight seep through his blinds. 

Breathing in, he lowers his head before looking at the hands resting in your lap. “I don’t do that shit anymore. If I’m seeing someone, that’s it.” 

You let those words coat shoulders that drop with relief, wondering if he meant that in a general way or if—

“And even if I did…” Yoongi gazes into your eyes then, and you stare at his determined pupils hiding behind dark orange bangs. “I wouldn’t do that to you. K?” 

Oh. There’s a hummingbird in your ribcage, its fluttering wings stealing all the words from your mouth. 

You can only nod.  

“And,” he says, straightening to prop up your chin. “It’s not stupid.”

Ah. The hummingbird now has friends. Many, many friends. 

“If it helps,” Yoongi continues while fighting a guilty smile, “I kinda pissed’em off.”

“Huh?” Something like a half-laugh, half-scoff shoots out of your mouth. “What did you do?”

He aims a smug look your way before reminding you why people love to hate him.

“You ever been called your friend’s name before?”

Your jaw drops before you playfully nudge his shoulder with a gasp, and Yoongi grins with his nose scrunched. “Asshole!” His breathy laughs are unbothered by your affronted, droning, “Wow.”

“I know. But it works.” He winks before moving on to another, more favorable subject. “What time are you leaving in the morning?” 

“Whenever you need me to. I took tomorrow off.” 

“Then stay. I’m off, too.” 

Excitement bubbles up to join the adrenaline in your veins. You were hoping that was the case ever since he said they were finished, but you weren’t positive. “You sure?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

Blinking, you wonder why you even asked in the first place. 

But then you remember: as much as you want a whole day with him, you think back to seeing him at his desk. How he used even a sliver of his alone time to work on his own music. If he wants to do that instead, you don’t want to stop him. 

However, you also don’t wanna catch him off-guard again by mentioning his private business. Maybe he even forgot that you could have heard his track. So instead, you joke, 

“I dunno. Thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

Yoongi regards you with a smile of disbelief, like he knows that’s what you weren’t originally going to say. But he plays along. 

“Not yet,” he teases. “Lemme shower.” 

With running water serving as the background to your thoughts, you psych yourself up for everything that you want to do.

Whether this is something you can pull off or not, you aren’t exactly sure. But there’s no way to know unless you try. And you want to try very, very hard.

Because Yoongi damn well deserves it. 

He’s been nothing but accommodating ever since the weekend started. From making you get work done, to reassuring your chaotic mind at every pass, he’s made an impression unlike no one has before. 

And honestly, he’s been this way with you long before then. 

So you want to be the one to please him this time. In a way that you never have for anyone else. It’s just daunting when you know you’re about to step out of your comfort zone. 

But to hell with it. You wanna do this. 

Getting up, you swipe one of the shirts Yoongi left on his chair, changing into it before taking everything else off. The soft but thick material drapes over your body, and you wonder if every single thing in this apartment is just made to be as comforting as its owner.

Maybe you should spend more time wearing his baggy clothes. 

Never mind all that. Focus!

Inhaling, you start to visualize your plans. Plans that were put on hold ever since this morning. With all of your day’s worries and fears resolved, the fog in your brain dissipates, allowing you to finally picture what you really want.

Hopefully it’s what Yoongi really wants, too.  

Light juts in front of your feet as the bathroom door swings open, and you stand in place as he notices, “Digging through my shit now, huh?”

“No,” you assure him, bones already vibrating with anticipation at the sight of his wet hair. 

And fuck, is he still wearing jewelry? 

Stop! Self-control. Patience. 

“This was on your chair.”

“I don’t—”

Self-control and patience be damned. 

Rushing forward, you catch Yoongi off guard with quick hands to his covered chest.

“What—”

Backing him up one two three steps, you shove him onto his bed, blood pulsing at the sight of his wide eyes. 

Don’t stop, keep going. You can do this.

Heart skipping beats, you tug off his shirt before you can chicken out, and Yoongi groans when you reveal that it’s the only thing you had on.

And you almost catch the way his expression switches from desire to shock, but you mount him and dive right onto his neck before you can do so.

“Fuck!” 

Something stronger than adrenaline comes over you then. Something dark, and primal, and absolutely divine. Breathing in the woody scent of his body wash, you lap at his column while your hands travel everywhere. You’re so focused on attacking him that you barely register the hands gripping your ass.

“Oh, fuck, doll,” Yoongi moans as you scratch down his chest, jerking his head back with a hard hiss when you pinch his nipple. 

Enveloped by lust, you let instinct guide your actions, pushing up to nip his ear while clutching his throat. A suck here, a tug of his hair there. Pinching, whispering his name, squeezing your thighs—every single movement seems to break him down while lifting you up.

And you finally get the chance to tell him what’s about to happen. 

“Lemme get a cond—”

“Uh uh.” 

When he stills underneath you, your bare chest slides down his front as you explain, 

“My turn.”

It’s simple. It’s concise. 

But Yoongi is smart enough to get what you mean, and a rough hum rips from his core as he watches you slowly sink between his knees. 

When you hit the floor, you realize. 

It’s almost been a year since you’ve been in this position. 

You want to show Yoongi what he had been missing.

But as your eyes shift up to see him already watching you, you’d like to think he already knows. 

Propped up on his elbows, Yoongi leers down at your determination, wet locks still dripping water onto his smooth cheekbones. Underneath his shirt, you can see all the little tics of his pecs, his abs—tiny jolts in the aftermath of your storm.

As much as you want to keep playing with the upper half of him, you continue in your quest, mouth salivating when you slip his sweatpants down bit by agonizing bit.  

God, how you want to be able to watch his reactions while you have him shoved down your throat. But you’ll make do with one pleasure at a time.

Starting with the cock that springs in front of your face. 

Damn.  

Impatient, you don’t waste time in taking his velvety girth in your palm, missing how it felt in your fingers and wanting it buried deep inside you for hours. 

Fucking hell. Out of all the dicks you’ve held in your lifetime, his is undoubtedly your favorite. In fact, you vaguely remember being upset at its perfection, hating how every part of the one man out of reach has the power to destroy you.

You want that power, too: bringing Min Yoongi to his proverbial knees.

Well. You’re sure as hell gonna fucking try. 

With one full, wet swipe along his length, you already see him thump back onto his mattress, hips flinching and fists gathering bunches of his sheet. 

Pleased, you take his tip in your awaiting mouth, lifting your head mid-suck to tug on him more. Intentionally, you release him with a sound you’ve perfected by watching videos you will never disclose. 

And it seems to resonate with Yoongi, for a dark laugh rumbles between sealed lips as a large hand palms the top of your head. 

“You nasty girl.”

Licking around his tip while squeezing the base, you give him a teasing suck before releasing with another perfect pop. Sliding your fingers to gather your saliva, you coat the rest of him before lapping at his balls.

His control. 

It’s slipping. 

You can tell from the breathy laughs he puffs to the ceiling. A slew of incoherent words tumbles after, and you decide that you quite like him like this. Like he finally doesn’t know what to say. 

Mirroring something you remember Yoongi torturing you with, you admit, 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

A deep hum is your only response, and you take that as a cue to keep going, tilting your head to swirl around his cock. Your own essence coats your cheeks as you feast, alternating between slurps and licks that travel along his veins.

From experience, you’ve learned how to judge reactions, how to tell what guys prefer or not. But all of those other times? You were never invested enough to truly care. If they never cared to pay attention to what you liked, then why bother?

But Yoongi cares. Sometimes, you wonder if he cares more than you do. 

So you pay extra attention to how he reacts, and you make sure to understand enough to heighten his pleasure to its zenith. 

Immediately, you pick up on the fact that he likes when you squeeze his sack. But also, it seems that he’s aroused by all the sounds you’re making in general.

You almost laugh. While you aren’t normally loud unless Yoongi wants you to be, this is where you won’t quiet down unless he stops you. 

But you aren’t the only one filling the room with vulgar noises. 

Beautiful hisses spring over your head, only to be joined by moans as you swallow more of his cock with each pass. He palms your scalp with a hand, trying his damned best to let you decide how much of him to take in. 

So you give him permission, knowing he’d catch on to the taps you make on his thigh.

When your eyes travel up his body, you can see him lifting his head to watch, and he looks to you for one more nod of consent. 

You pause your sucks to give him one, slathering your tongue around his shaft before taking him in again.

Yoongi’s groans are deep when he pushes your head down, and you feel your mouth stretch wide around his cock. When the tip knocks the back of your throat, you gag on instinct, expecting the moan that comes right after.

“Fuck, baby…”

You can go lower, so you let him push you down a little further, unfazed by the way your throat aches to accommodate his girth. Tears start to collect in your eyes, but you don’t mind those either, having done this many times before. 

For Yoongi, you’ll deal. To hear the way he slurs your name, you’ll deal.

Your breath cuts at a certain point, but you sacrifice it to prove you can take him all in. And when your nose brushes his pelvis, Yoongi’s outright moan is already worth the gamble on your lungs. 

Mercifully, you’re tugged all the way off his cock in a single motion, gasping for air as strings of saliva connect your mouth to his sex.

“You’re so fucking good at this. What the fuck.” 

Mouth coated in spit, you nod with little shame, cunt pulsing at the satisfied groan that it gets in return.

Yoongi’s voice is filled with lust and gravel when he grits out, “God, I wanna fuck that throat.”

“Do it,” you rasp with lidded eyes, smirking at the way he looks at you with disbelief. Replicating what he had said to you before, you croak, “This is about you.”

“You sure, doll?”

Heart beating a bit quicker at his concern, you hum in confidence. Your fingers tap his thigh when you respond, “I’ve done it before.”

A strange look comes over Yoongi’s face then, and you don’t know why he sits all the way up to kiss you. But you and your throat welcome the short reprieve, and he breathes through his nostrils before pulling away.

Just like that, the look vanishes, replaced by shadows and desire and impatience.  

“Then gimme that dirty mouth.”

Lost in his blown out eyes, you obey. But before he can even take over, you start a relentless pace, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks until they throb. 

It’s enough to make him stutter in his movements, and a hand pulls you up before he chuckles, “Breathe first, babe.”

Blinking, you realize, “Oh, shit. Yeah.”

Seeing Yoongi’s full grin while in the midst of pleasure? 

That has to be one of your favorite things. 

“Okay,” you nod, only slightly embarrassed. “Ready.” 

He only hisses out laughter while tilting his head back. “What are you doing to me…”

You don’t respond. Because you don’t know. But you wanna keep satisfying this man until he melts in your mouth, so you take his tip in to change the topic. 

This time, you give Yoongi complete control of your head, noticing that he starts with slow but full strokes. As he groans, you mewl when his other hand skirts over one of your breasts, causing him to quicken his pace. 

Concentrate. Loosen your throat. Breathe through your nose. All of these thoughts invade your mind as Yoongi thrusts in deeper and quicker, and your column bears the onslaught as tears roll down your cheeks in rivers. 

The sounds you make are far from innocent, and they serve as the moving line over Yoongi’s constant reactions.

You don’t remember him being this vocal.

But you’re starting to understand why he likes pleasuring you so much.

It aches like hell, but you want nothing but to keep going. You’re okay. With a hand gripping his thigh, you slacken your aching jaw and revel in the waves of curses washing over your naked back. You almost traverse into another plane entirely, eyes slitted and strings of drool slipping from your lips. 

Suddenly, you’re tugged up again, a long gasp escaping your numb mouth and eyes practically rolled back. Wheezing, you gulp in breaths like water, feeling air on the spit that accumulated on your chest.

Holy fuck, how drenched are you? You’re too dizzy to comprehend, let alone hear anything he’s saying. 

A hand makes its way to your cheek, the veiny back caressing your sweaty skin all the way down to your sore jaw. When he cradles your lolling chin in his sweaty fingers, you slowly open your eyes to be pinned by a look so dark you would think he was possessed.

And you have never seen him look so hungry.  

But you can’t mull over it for too long. Not because you feel thoroughly fucked out—though that contributes a good chunk of it—but because his wish shoots through you like lightning,

“Gonna come all over that pretty face.”

Fuck. 

Even though you want that, too, it wasn’t the plan you had in mind.

Shaking your head, you move his hand away and give him a lopsided smile. “Not this time.”

Yoongi’s new expression is adorable, but you waste no time in clarifying—not without a slight hint of shyness,

“I want it somewhere else…”

Yoongi furrows his brows impossibly deep, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “Where, baby girl.”

Lowering yourself back down, you answer,

“My mouth.”

“The fuck,” he groans, eyes shutting as you seize command again.

Your hands and mouth cover him completely—sucking, pumping, twisting. You feel him twitching with an impending explosion, and you rake your nails down one of his thighs before moving them right to his balls. 

More curses shoot from his mouth as he arches his back higher than before, and you know he’s close before he even tells you. 

With one last thought, you clutch his sack with one hand while reaching up to twist one of his nipples, wanting every bit of his pleasure to come from you and you alone. 

And you moan around him when it works like a charm. 

Nothing but your name rips from his throat as he spills into your mouth, hot and milky and distinguishable on your tongue. Spurt after spurt paints your cavern, and you love the way his cock twitches with each angry release.

It’s yours. All yours yours yours and you claim it with a possessiveness you will deny in the morning. Globs slide down your gullet, and you twirl your tongue to gather everything you missed. 

Above you, Yoongi’s body locks, fists solid and creating taut mountain peaks out of his sheets. When you suck through his orgasm, a long, guttural moan is blocked by his closed lips, and he flexes his arms forward, feline and feral. 

You already know you can never have Yoongi, no matter what.

But this Yoongi—flustered, out of control, and fucked out of his mind—is the Yoongi you want all to your fucking self.

Breathing hard and watching him come, you’re positive that he is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life.

Finally, with one last exhale, his high passes. And a realization floods your mind. 

Holy fuck.

You just swallowed Yoongi’s cum. 

Nothing but shaky breaths fill the room, and you take time to steady your pulse and relax your aching throat. Fuck, it’s gonna be sore. Damn, you’re lucky that you have tomorrow off because—

Something causes you to snap your gaze upward.

And any breaths you were going to take cease.

Because there have been many significant snapshots in your life, some of them only involving yourself, your friends, and more recently the very man in front of you. 

But this moment? With you stripped bare and on your knees while he worships you from above? 

Something in you clicks.

And clicks hard.

Yoongi’s voice has never been hoarser as he commands, “Open that goddamn mouth.”

You oblige, tongue out and all.

“Fuck.” He snags your chin with force, and the fervor with how he growls sends sparks along your skin, 

“Come here. Get the fuck up.” 

Bubbling with mirth, you rush to mount him as he hoists you by the arms, and you kiss him square on the lips with punished knees digging into his forgiving mattress. Fuck, the bends in your legs are sore. But you’ll live. 

Yoongi seizes the back of your head and looks at you, clenching his fingers with words on the tip of his tongue. But he says nothing in the end, simply shaking his head and kissing you one more time. 

Everything you wanted to happen happened. 

And you’d like to think he enjoyed it just as much as you did, so you can now sleep peacef—

“Get up.”

“Huh?”

“Sit up.”

Confused, you wince at the sting in your legs as you’re situated in his bare lap. As your entrance rests right against his cock, both of you groan while most likely thinking the same thing. 

“What are you doing,” you whisper, watching his complete look of satisfaction at how ragged your voice sounds. The pout you make only widens his smile. 

Instead of responding verbally, Yoongi reaches behind his neck to unclasp one of his chains. And you don’t know where things are going until your heartbeat jumps ten paces. 

Because he slips the silver necklace around your neck before taking off the heavier one, admiring the view when both of them rest against your slippery chest. 

What…?

What is he doing?

This feels borderline intimate. 

It’s enough to render you speechless, and you can only breathe as he runs his fingers along the links, the back of his hand brushing the side of your breast. 

“They look much better on you.”

You still don’t know what the hell to say, feeling a lovely weight on your neck and an enchanting burden in your chest. 

“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, lifting your chin. “You okay?”

“Oh. More than okay,” you admit. “I just…” 

When you see him tilt his head and wait for your answer, you finally notice that you’re unbothered. Truly unbothered. About today, about your friends, about what you heard on the phone. 

But more importantly, you’re unbothered about being naked in front of him. You aren’t thinking about how you look, or how he thinks you look. All you’ve been focused on this entire time has been him, and you haven’t had this much fun in the bedroom. Ever. 

“I’m really happy right now,” you finally beam, and you want to bottle the feeling you have in your heart and shelve it for every rainy day you’ll ever live through. 

Right next to the bottle that keeps the look in Yoongi’s eyes.

You yelp as he suddenly tugs on his chains to pull you forward, and your lips are captured in a way that has your toes curling. 

Before you know it, you’re being lowered onto rumpled sheets, and a pair of fingers between your legs jolts you upwards. “Yoongi?”

“Who said we were done?” 

“But this was about you,” you gasp as you feel his fingers slide up your dripping folds with more pressure. 

“I know. This is still for me.” 

What the hell? You were already set on not receiving anything tonight. If anything, you could take care of yourself after he passed out. So what’s he doing? Why is he saying this is for him? “How?”

“I love seeing you like this.”

You can only blink. “...Really?”

“Yeah. And I love seeing you come.” 

“You do?“ 

Yoongi’s gaze lands on the jewelry resting on your chest. “So fucking much.” 

“Oh,” is all you can muster, lust coming back with a vengeance and twisting your core.  

And you wait until his eyes travel upwards, slowly but surely, until they connect with yours. “Let’s see how many times you got, dirty girl.” 

Oh, fuck.

“Yoongi…” 

He shifts to sit up, ordering you to change positions as he slips his sweatpants back on. “Slide up here for me.” 

Obeying, you wince at the discomfort in your knees as you make your way to the head of his mattress. 

Yoongi joins you immediately, his warmth pressing deliciously into your side. With a flick of his chin, he continues, “Hands under the headboard. Uh huh.” 

Well. You didn’t expect this. And you’re ten times more excited for what’s in store for you, especially since Yoongi decided to keep all of his clothes on. The pretty tension has you thrumming with heat and nerves.

Instead of going between your legs, he starts with fingers to your mouth. “Open up one more time, doll.”

You gladly take two of his digits in like you were built for it, slathering your tongue all over them and humming at the quick curse at your ear.

“So filthy,” he chuckles through a smile. As he slides his fingers out, he rubs them over your lips before clutching your chin. “I fucking love it.” 

You bite your lip before you can help it, knowing you won’t be prepared for anything he’s going to do to you. 

And you quickly learn how right you are. 

Yoongi seizes complete command of your body, fingering you at the perfect pace while latching lips onto your neck. Both movements cause you to tense up, your palms pressing into the bottom of his headboard and your back arching. 

Shit, it already feels so good and it’s only been seconds! 

Your legs are forced more open before Yoongi dips his digits in again, sliding up your drenched walls and laughing derisively at your throat.

“Sucking me off got you this wet, huh?”

Whimpering, you can only nod, shifting your hips to feel more of the friction he’s giving. You don’t know how aroused he looks as he watches your bouncing chest, but you do hear what he whispers. Because it emblazons itself on your neck. 

“What a whore.” 

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, thoroughly turned on and shuddering at the way his laughs slide down your column. Shameful, you admit to yourself that you can listen to him talk like that for hours. 

When he suddenly slaps your cunt, you lose it, feeling the strain in your body as a moan tries to escape your clenched teeth. 

Holy fuck, how are you already this close? Did you really attain this amount of arousal just by giving him head? You knew you were outright delighted but damn, his fingers see no resistance at all. 

The silver around your neck slides a little towards your collarbone. As you wonder why he decided to don you with his chains, Yoongi takes advantage and leans down, latching lips onto one of your nipples and pulling a moan from your throat. 

“Oh, my god.” 

You want to throw your hands around his neck. Dig your fingers in his angry locks. But the way your hands grip the headboard, you’re too afraid to let go. They feel permanently welded, and you can only tighten them as you thrash underneath him. 

He fucking knows it, too, taking his time to lick around your breast before nicking again. And with so many sparks filling your body to the brim, you already see the edge. It’s so close close close and you’re trying to get the right words out to tell him. 

He has the audacity to laugh, staccato puffs in your ear. “I feel you sucking me in. You can’t hide, baby girl.” 

“Fuck,” you gasp, knowing he’s completely right. But you can’t help it. Your body wants every inch of his and the friction is feeding the thrums in your core.

Yoongi suddenly grabs the back of your neck, holding you in place and causing your jaw to slacken. 

“Whose pussy is this?” 

What the fuck! You didn’t expect that. And you know how you want to answer, but your words come out ridiculously slurred from lust. 

“What was that?” 

“Yours! Oh, fuck…” 

“Mmhmm.” With one final stroke, he agrees, “All mine.”

Pure light wipes your vision as you come, groaning through your lips as your body snaps into place. Your arms are taut, straining as you squeeze his headboard like a lifeline. Over and over and over, your cunt clenches around Yoongi’s fingers, and he hums above you, long and rough. 

It doesn’t matter that you end up a panting mess, nor does it matter that your legs are yelling to be closed. Because he’s already keeping an agonizing pace on your throbbing walls without reprieve.

“Yoongi!”

“You wanna be a cumslut so bad? Prove it.” 

“Fuck—”

“Taking my dick and my fingers so well.” He slaps your cunt again, and the squelch it makes will embarrass you even days later. “Still such a whore for me.” 

Fuck! 

You don’t know why the hell that turns you on, but it does. Goddamn, it does, and he knows how much it affects you by the way you milk his fingers despite already coming. 

He laughs even deeper this time, and it sends shivers down your chest all the way to your toes. Watching the way you writhe beneath him, he goads, “That’s it, doll. Fuck, I love seeing you in my shit.”

“Yoong—”

“Almost wanna show you off.”

Damn, you want that, too. Holy shit, you want the same thing, and just imagining that being a possibility gets you frighteningly close to another edge. 

And you need the plunge. No one will take that away from you. Even him. If he edges you even once, you’ll finish your goddamn self.

“Yoongi, I’m close.”

“Then come for me, love.”

Your coil snaps again, harder than the last and making you a shuddering mess. Later, you’ll think about what he said, but your mind is completely void for now. Tears start leaking out of your ducts from the onslaught of pleasure wracking your bones, and you let out a quick sob from feeling so overwhelmed.

Yoongi’s saying things in your ear again, but you really can’t discern them. Praises, insults, anything in between—you don’t know. All you know is that your brain is exploding with lust and satisfaction and you don’t know when the high will ever subside. 

But, after an eternity and a half, you start to float back onto soft, damp sheets. Your muscles relax bit by bit, and the fingers above your head unlatch from the dark wood of his headboard. 

Fuck. Your hands hurt. But you slowly close them to combat the strain. 

With your eyes slipped shut, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s lips on yours, inhaling shock through your nose at the second stolen kiss of the night. Instead of your palms, you reach to place your wrists on his shoulders, twisting your body to press fully into his front. 

His heartbeat…

It might be quicker than yours. 

Softly, one of your hands is cradled in his fingers before your palm is rubbed with care. One circle, then another, and another. Voice so deep that it’s more of a rumble than a sentence, Yoongi asks, “Do they hurt?”

“A little,” you admit. “But you’re helping.” 

“Okay.” 

You don’t know what time it is, but you don’t exactly care. It could be any hour of any day and you would still banish the rest of the world from your mind. Because it only exists in this moment. With him massaging your hand while carrying tiny moons in his eyes. 

He’s ethereal.

“You don’t have to stay tomorrow.” 

Blinking hard, you struggle to comprehend what Yoongi just said. 

What? What did he mean by that? 

Your heart rushes up your bruised throat before you squeak out, “Why not?” 

Yoongi kisses your forehead. “Your friends on your case. Spend time with them. Don’t worry just cus of me.” 

Oh. He doesn’t know that you took care of that.

Why does he have to be so considerate? This doesn’t make things easy.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, reaching with your free hand to cradle his cheek. “I was gonna see them… But after this week, since…” 

He just watches you. 

“Things’ll go back to normal.” 

Yoongi darts his eyes across your face, silent. When he only nods, a piece of you breaks, but you try your hardest not to let him see it. 

There won’t be time for walks, or water fights, or waking up to his arm around your waist. Because this week reserved a pocket universe in time—a space just for the two of you to have. And it’s one you truly don’t ever want to leave. 

From the way that Yoongi claims your lips, you want to think he feels the same. It’s at least nice to keep pretending.

But you know he’s doing it to make you feel better, though it devastates you all the same. 

Because a week is quickly not becoming enough. You want more time. You need it. 

Yoongi stops with a breath, and runs a hand along the side of your head.

“Get some rest, doll.”

“You, too.”

“I will,” he whispers. “And listen. About tomorrow.” 

“Hmm?”

He stares at you just a bit longer, caressing your cheek and keeping his mouth shut. 

It’s strange. You’ve only been able to read him a few times before. But now, you’re sure that you see a thousand thoughts run across his eyes, and they remind you of meteor showers you used to watch outside when you were young. When life wasn’t complicated. When the furthest thing from your mind was a broken heart. 

But at his next words, your heart swells. 

And you don’t need to worry about it breaking just yet.

“I’m all yours.”

…Maybe Reia was right.

-

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-

tbc. :) 

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A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? LOL i feel like it’s been so long since Stay, but it’s only been two-ish months. whoa! also.. typing with acrylics should be an olympic sport and if you do this regularly you have my utmost respect LOLL that shit was so hard while writing a majority of this chapter! A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. and for the people wanting angst, welp. here’s a glimpse of what that entails dkldkjdjf see you all in “the week, pt. 2!” ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

[thebatfamfanatic]

Six Times He Met Her

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, guy taking advantage of a minor in first chap, mention of underage smut in fourth chap, making out?, violence, mentions of blood/injury, main character death, adult language, angst

A/N: First thing I’ve written on Tumblr!! Tell me if anybody likes it, or if I broke your heart. And yes, I know I’m evil.

1-

The first time he saw you was around 2:30 in the morning. Jason was squatting on the edge of a rooftop in Gotham, surveying the dark scenery below him.

Somehow, there was still plenty of traffic on the dirty streets, plenty of cars honking and driving around. Jason always wondered who the fuck needed to be somewhere at 2 am.

He fiddled with a loose seam on the Robin uniform he sported each night, hunting down the assholes of Gotham (pretty much 70% of the city) and putting them in jail, where they belonged.

At 16, Jason Todd technically should have been in bed, maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and doing some rich kid shit during the day. Of course, his adoptive (long story) father, Bruce Wayne, richest playboy in Gotham, employed him to be his little tweety bird sidekick at night, so here he was, at the rendezvous watching the streets. yay. A scream came from an alley nearby. Jason stood, stretched his legs, and leaped down from the roof onto the ground. He pinpointed the alleyway where the noise was coming from and raced into it. A girl, about his age, had been cornered by some bitch dude who thought he could take advantage of this girl. Not on Robin’s watch.

Before the girl could scream again, the guy was on the ground and Jason was helping her up. She shakily took the hand he offered her and looked him in the eye. Shit, she had gorgeous eyes. Jason froze for a second, lost in her beauty, before clearing in his throat.

“Hi. I’m Robin, uh, you probably knew that. Are you okay, ma’am?”

He hated the squeak that came out of his mouth. He sounded like a fucking 5 year old. The girl raised her eyebrow. She had recovered rather quickly. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not some rich-ass royal whatever from Britain.” Jason liked this one. Sassy, but just so. He inquired where she lived, and she gave him the address. With his grappling hook at the ready, Jason pulled her closer to him. She jumped at the sudden closeness, but seemed to enjoy it. Maybe? He didn’t know shit about girls.

Jason shot the hook, propelling them up in the air, and landed on a rooftop. They continued this routine until he got in front of her house. It was still several seconds before he released her waist.

She started to walk towards her door, before stopping.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Jason blinked.

“I thought you were smart, Robin. Its my name, dumb ass.”

Then Y/N disappeared into her house. Jason stood there foolishly outside on her front lawn for a while, thinking about the girl he had just met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he realized 10 minutes later that he had forgotten to ask about where her family was and everything.

Oh well. Bruce would be expecting him anyways. Jason shot his grappling hook and started home, still dazed from the encounter.

2-

The second time you guys met was two weeks later. Jason was just Jason Todd, a normal 10th grader living in the shadow of his (adopted) older brother Dick Grayson. Nobody paid much attention to him, and he didn’t really mind. Mostly Jason focused on getting A’s in class and then retreating into the library until Golden Boy’s after school clubs were over.

That is, until you walked in. It sounded as if you had just moved here, and for a minute, Jason felt a little sorry for you. I mean, Gotham wasn’t the greatest place to spend high school, or any grade, in his opinion.

You looked at your schedule from across the hall and then up at the locker next to him. For a second, your eyes met his and Jason was content. Lost in those brilliant colors. And then you looked away and started walking towards him. He realized just in time maybe he should stop leaning over your locker as you stopped next to him.

“Hi. Y/N. Just moved here. Looks like we’re locker neighbors.”

Jason was about to reply with “I know” but restrained himself. “Jason. Nice to meet you. Congrats on moving to this shitshow.”

He managed to not grin like an idiot as you laughed. The sound was music to his ears, like beautiful bells. God, he was being sappy.

“It’s not much of a shitshow when you’re here.” Ooh, she flirts too. Jason smirked as you opened your locker and dumped your stuff inside, pulling out the things you needed for your first class.

The first bell shrieked just as you closed your locker. “See you around, Jason.”

The small smile you gave him made his day, and he almost forgot to get to class. Yes, you were certainly one of a kind, and yes, Jason wanted you. The question was how to get to that point.

3-

You guys had a couple classes together, and frequently sat at the same table during lunch, so it wasn’t long before you were quick friends with Jason. However, the next notable time you met was a little while after he got your number.

Jason was laying on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr as he thought about ways to ask you out.

Y/N, would you grant me the honor of going out with me? No, too Romeo and Juliet.

Hey, want to grab ice cream? He had to make it clear what his intentions were. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he kissed you, right?

Oh, god, if he fucking kissed you….what would that be like? Before Jason could start fantasizing, his fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had sent a text to you. What did he do, what did he-

Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend. It seems like something you would enjoy.

Hm. That was actually pretty good. Where did he come up with that?

Jason had just started inspecting his fingers for some kind of sign of being possessed by smooth-with-girls-syndrome when you responded. He looked up and read it quickly.

Sure, I’d love that! Thanks for thinking of me ❤️

A heart. You had put a heart at the end of it. Did that mean you knew it was a date?

Jason sighed. He certainly hoped so.

4-

The weekend date went good. By the end of it, Jason was sure you knew it was a date. The second one passed, and then the third. The third one was when you hesitantly pecked him on the cheek. The fourth was when he kissed you actually. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was just enough for him to take you on a fourth date. An actual “will you go out with me on a date” kind of thing.

He took you to a restaurant in the fancy part of things. You two ate food that two broke 16 year olds technically shouldn’t have been able to afford, but Bruce helped Jason out.

Jason drove you home afterwards and discussed the topic of the upcoming summer during the car ride. What you were doing, where he was going. The entire time, Jason had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to act. Was he messing it all up, or were you actually into him?

Once he parked in front of your house and walked you up to the stoop, you looked at him. He noticed you were biting your lip nervously, and god, why did he think that was so hot? “My parents aren’t home.” It was the softest Jason had ever heard you speak, but he knew what you meant. He smiled gently, and kissed you again. This one was destined to last longer, and before either of you realized it, you had opened your door and you were leading him to your bedroom.

That night was one neither of you would forget, and by the end of it, Jason had officially asked out successfully.

5-

You and Jason spent a lot of time together after that. You met his older brother, Dick (who was very happy for Jason, too happy in his opinion) and his dad, Bruce Wayne. Bruce was cool, but very busy all the time.

By two months, Jason still hadn’t told you his identity as Robin, and he was running out of excuses. One day, you confronted him, assuming he was cheating on you. He tried everything, but he had to go out on patrol.

Jason left that night assuming you were broken up. The entire patrol, he wasn’t himself. Truth was, he loved you so much he was afraid of losing you. That had become his greatest fear. It was that night everything went wrong.

6-

You were out taking a late night walk. Down by the pier, a cold wind was blowing, and as you walked past warehouse after warehouse, you pulled your coat tighter.

You were affected as well, and confused about where you and your boyfriend stood. Did you guys just breakup? Did he love you? Did–

A scream echoed from one of the warehouses. You turned, afraid of stepping closer but afraid of leaving the person. Eventually, your curiosity won over and you climbed up several crates to peer into the window.

What you saw inside almost made you scream yourself. Robin, the hero everybody talked about, lay defenseless and bloody on the ground as a tall man-the Joker- whacked him over and over again with a crowbar.

You gasped, wanting to help, but you knew that would be foolish. You would just get in the way for a minute. Tears started to form in your eyes as Robin weakly cried out from the pain. He looked so…helpless.

Joker relentlessly beat him with the crowbar, and Robin’s mask began to come off. You rubbed the tears from your eyes just as the mask fell to the ground.

“No.” was the only thing that you could muster. Jason lay on the ground in the bloody Robin suit. Jason fucking Todd. There was your boyfriend, being beaten to death by the asshole of all assholes. That was why he kept disappearing at night, because he fucking protected the city!

You were mad at yourself for being so cruel to Jason without knowing what was really going on. You barely paid attention as Batman and Nightwing suddenly burst through the windows.

Joker laughed, and said something you couldn’t hear from the outside. Probably taunting Batman as he watched his apprentice get beat to death.

A fight broke out, Batman lunging at Joker as Nightwing rushed to Jason, laying broken on the ground. You had just enough time to duck as a Batarang came swooping out of the hands of the Caped Crusader and straight through the window you were looking through.

It was then you realized how close Jason was to death, and what you needed to do. The window pricked your jacket as you jumped through it, but you didn’t care. Gymnastics back in 6th grade helped when you landed awkwardly. Nightwing spun around, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that was Dick, which meant Bruce was Batman.

However, none of that mattered when Jason was half dead in front of you. Nightwing- Dick- made no effort to stop you as you knelt in front of Jason. “No, no, no.” You cradled his head in your hands, trying hard not to recognize how limp his body was, and how his chest barely moved as he struggled to breathe.

Jason’s eyes were closed, tears running down his face silently. You were crying as well, mumbling curses and things that made no sense.

“Please, don’t be dead. Please, I-I love you.”

You watched Jason make no acknowledgement he could hear you, watched him breathe once more. His chest rose and never fell.

You screamed and buried your head in his costume, not caring about getting blood on your face. Dick pulled you away wordlessly, out of the warehouse. You barely registered that the warehouse exploded behind you a few seconds later.

Dick let you sob into his shoulder for what seemed like hours. Him and Bruce exchanged a short conversation, both riddled with grief.

Six times you and Jason had met, and that was the last.

[semischarmed]

Temptation

-Wednesday- 

I love him so much. God I love him. And he’ll never know. Maybe it was a curse from a past life or something. To live like this, tantalizingly close to him but unable to act. I knew he didn’t see me that way, but that didn’t help any in my situation. 

Take today for instance, he just came back from the gym today soaked in the lingering smell of sweat. It was probably residual perspiration on the clothes he was carrying back or some other thing in his bag. Still. The smell. Goddamn. I could have died and gone to heaven on the spot. I tried to sneak a whiff of Connor, but all I could pick up was whatever soap and cologne he used. It was earthy, woodsy. Like cut cedar and fresh rain. It’s the Connor I always smelled, since he did always keep himself quite clean, and it’s a wonderful scent in its own right, forming the basis of my idea of Connor and the scent I associated with him. But damn. This paled in comparison to the hints of musk and workout sweat I could glean from his clothing. He reeked of pure man and it’s such a shame he covered that up. God I hope he doesn’t do laundry anytime soon.

He must have picked up on something, cause not a moment later I got a “Oh dude! I’m so sorry, this stuff probably reeks haha. I’ll get it washed up so it doesn’t stink up the place” he laughed politely. Fuck.

“Sure, you do you” I stated back, mentally cursing at his propensity for cleanliness.

You’d think the ROTC guys wouldn’t give two fucks about their smell but I guess Connor was an exception. Then again I don’t really know what they did, so maybe it was normal for them. In any case, he definitely did laundry tonight, and I definitely lost out on a good jack off.

-Friday-

So, weird thing happened last night. Connor looked tired as fuck, but he went out. The man must have been running on sheer willpower alone cause he had some kind of training day earlier today too. He collapsed in his room at like 8. Yet there he was an hour later- eyes bloodshot, hair tousled. Maybe he wanted to let loose or something? Still pretty weird. I mean, the guy was practically a saint. It’s odd enough that he went out for drinks, but even odder that he went out dressed like he did. Still I could definitely get used to a more experimental Connor. 

He was also a little looser when he came back. Gave me a pat on the shoulder and a wink. Something about “keeping the room safe” or something. I couldn’t concentrate enough to tell what he was actually rambling about. His breath was drenched in alcohol. I feel like I almost got drunk off the fumes alone when he spoke. No surprise when he had no recollection of any of it after he woke up from his nap. 

Total guilty pleasure, but the messy look was kind of hot on him. Never seen my friend so disheveled like this, he was always so prim and proper. It’s kind of nice to see him knocked down a few pegs. 

-Tuesday-

Connor let out a cute yawn before scratching his pits. He gave his scratching hand a quick sniff before settling into a satisfied smile. My dick jumped a little. I feigned ignorance when he regarded me, asking me if I saw that. “I… uh…no. Definitely not.” 

“Sure dude.” Now fully aware of my stare, Connor continued scratching at himself. “You’re seeing this now though, right?” He ran a hand over his stomach, gently feeling through his defined abs. I kept replaying the event in my head, drooling the delight I just witnessed and at a little daydream of me coming up to to feel this new side of Connor with him. In my daze, I barely noticed my roommate inching closer.

Plus, did he seem… bigger? Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen the guy without a shirt on so I guess I just never noticed. Regardless, this version of Connor was fucking hot. Looks like he’s got a tat too. Hot. 

“Baby if you’re gonna keep looking, you might as well have a taste.” He laughed warmly. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. In my stunned state, I couldn’t do anything beyond stare at him in disbelief as a vascular hand that seemed larger than it should be guided mine around his perky ass. God what a nice ass. I still recoiled out of the sheer absurdity in the situation. Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea of this Connor. It’s like he was two different people. Well, I definitely liked this version of my friend more. I’m still drooling over what just happened.

“Another time, then,” he chuckled before walking to his room. 

Weird. Connor never really shut his door other than to sleep. Guess he was tired or something. 

-Thursday-

Well shit, I totally misread all of that. Today, I thought I saw that same glint of intrigue in his eyes and decided to risk it. Conner was just sitting in his boxers eating cereal and I was just standing there, a few feet behind. I couldn’t help it. My hand instinctively reached out and the cupped the outline of his ass. Perky. It was cute and compact and plump but definitely had a bit of muscle behind it. I regretted the action immediately. 

“…The fuck dude?” He gently whispered. It was more bewilderment than anything. Fuck. He was incredulous and I couldn’t blame him. Anger raged inside him, I could tell. But neither of us knew what to do in the situation. We stood there, staring at each other for what felt like hours before I relented.

In shame I could barely stammer out a shameful “s-sorry” before I slunk back to my room, bright red. 

I fucked up.

-Monday-

Okay. Scratch everything I just said. Connor is fucking with me. He’s got to be. He strode around the apartment half naked, humming a quiet tune to himself. Sure. Fine, I guess. Whatever. But as soon as he noticed me on the couch working on an essay, he walked over and gave me a hug from behind. Oh my god that hug. Connor was a lean dude, but I swear his muscles were fucking bulging, like they were barely contained in his skin. He wrapped those thick pythons over my shoulders and chest and I just about melted on the spot. I’m pretty sure I moaned a little too. Who wouldn’t? Wrapped in his warm embrace, surrounded by this man- I was his for that moment. I tensed up on the spot. I knew he didn’t swing that way, so I don’t know what he was trying but there was no way I would fall for what I could only assume was some kind of trap. 

He spoke in a tone laced in sex. It set me off in a way I didn’t expect. This was a side of Connor I’ve never seen, a tone of Connor I’ve never heard- an experience of Connor I’ve never had. It was a Connor I never knew I needed.

“I’ve seen the way you look at this body. You’re not very subtle.” In the faintest of whispers, he leaned in until his lips were barely touching my ear. My dick was already rock hard in anticipation- I was practically bursting at the seams and I’m sure he had a great view of it. “Just say the word and ‘Connor’ is yours”. 

With a control and a willpower I never had before, I refrained from kissing this boy- from putting myself all over him on the spot. I mentally cursed at my friend. ‘What the fuck are you playing at Connor?’ 

His hot, damp breath caressed my ear in its own embrace as I stood my ground, unmoving like stone. “Got to hand it to you, bro, you put up a really good fight. It’s okay. I love a good fight. Makes victory taste all the more sweeter.” The feel of Connor’s thick, defined fingers running through my hair and wet, slimy tongue across my cheek. He rolled his body forward, so the pulse through his abs would be felt across the back of my neck. From this spot, he was downright imposing. His guns went in for another caress- this time wrapping across my cheeks and around my chin.

“You know I love you bro… This body’s straight as an arrow. But it’s my body- I’ll go gay for you if you want”. What the fuck. Oh god I got a bit of his sweat on my cheek too. My eyes fluttered, body entrapped in a spell of my own hormones reacting to my friend’s advances.

Connor broke me. I shivered on the spot, leaned up to the man, moaned an “Oh fuck…Connor I-I need you. I-” before he cut me off. “Well bro, kind of looks like you still got some work today- you have fun with that.” He laughed coldly. He was fucking with me.

That whole exchange was really fucking weird, cause just a few hours later, it was back to pure awkward silence between us. Like a flip of a switch, the every energy he exuded around me could only be described as “uncomfortable”. I wanted to talk to him, to speak with him about earlier, to tell him I wanted him the same way. Something about those eyes read differently though. They read the same Connor I had been used to until recently. I decided to hold my tongue. Something about this situation wasn’t adding up.

Also I’m pretty sure this kid needs to see a doctor or something. I swear the guy doesn’t sleep- he’s out every night and then I see his tired ass drag himself to class every morning. Rushing a frat? Weird drugs? Could have been a host of things. 

-Tuesday-

Now 4 days since the incident last week. Thankfully he hasn’t brought it up- nor has he brought up whatever the fuck yesterday was. If it was even real. I sweat and stumble over my sentences in every conversation I make with him. I flash back to what he said to me. God, this was all too much. Every time I try to focus myself, focus on whatever he was talking to me about, I couldn’t help but think of the Connor that visited me yesterday night. 

Maybe, maybe it was just a hallucination. Maybe I dreamed it all up. I was working on an essay for hours. The whole encounter could have easily been a dream. He’s been going out every night too, so it’s not like he could have been speaking to me that coherently. Still. That didn’t make it any better. Whether or not he knew it, Connor was a demon in my life. 

I shamefully admit I totally jacked off to that little exchange from yesterday after he left. Grabbed some used Connor-scented garments off his hamper and exploded all over myself in a Connor-themed session. Nothing like the exquisite gym-soaked clothes from a week ago, but it was enough. It was still Connor. My eyes rolled up to the back of my head in pleasure as I took a breath, basking in the afterglow and the scent of forest and earth and faintest lingering musk of Connor in my nose. Connor was everything to me and, hallucination or not, I committed yesterday’s events to memory. 

-Still Tuesday-

Shitshitshit. Definitely not a dream. I caught the son of a bitch. In the dead of night, I caught him sneaking in from a dark corner of the room. Like a figure manifest from the shadows itself. He was holding some silver figurine in his hand, reciting some odd words, before he lunged at the sleeping Connor. He gave my roommate a quick sniff before scoffing. “Bro you have to stop cleaning all your nice smells away… With that the stranger pulled at the corners of Connor’s mouth. I watched as my roommate’s skin was forced to accommodate the man’s muscular calves. 

I watched as the stranger pulled Connor every further up himself. Damn, even in the dark I could tell the man was ripped. When his head finally slotted into where Connor’s skull would be, and Connor’s face was stretched being pulled, I saw the immediate change in my friend’s demeanor. This was the guy who’s been fucking with me recently. This was why Connor looked so buff lately. I couldn’t see the man who jumped inside my best friend, but I could never wipe that smug smile he wore through Connor’s face. 

The smell that originated from inside Connor, the same smell I experienced a week ago. God I loved that scent. It permeated throughout the room. Best friend concentrate. Like a humid, musky, grime that clung to the very air and decorated my nostrils. I never wanted his scent out of me again. I felt like I was inhaling Connor himself, regarding a newly discovered private part of my friend.

My stomach churned in a mix of anticipation and horror. Sweat beaded at my temples. Gotta admit, this was kind of hot. I had to figure out what I was gonna do about this. Self-preservation kicked in and I fled to my room, taking special attention to ensure I did not alert the man inside Connor. Not like he’d notice anyways- dude was feeling himself up almost immediately after he slipped inside. 

-Wednesday-

It’s like clockwork at this point. The “other” Connor came back early in the morning from a wild night out, before passing out on our couch as I was finally able to speak with my friend. Impossibly tired eyes looked back at me. He gave a weak grimace. “Must have passed out again….Uh.. can I help you man?” My heart sank. Could I really tell him this? My poor roommate. “No, uh.. do you want any breakfast?”.

I could tell he had meant to say yes. He motioned as much, before staring at my face and turning away. Fuck. He was definitely still put off by last week’s advance. I honestly don’t blame him. “N-no. I got it. Thanks.” 

I grimaced awkwardly before shrugging and walking to fix myself some breakfast. This would complicate things. And I couldn’t do that to Connor. I needed to find a way to fix this without him knowing. Evidently, his body being used and worn out like an evening jacket was taking its toll on him. Despite whatever we were going through, he was still my friend. And I couldn’t in good faith add more to that burden. 

“Hey, one of the guys from the gym’s coming over for dinner, that cool?” 

“Yeah man, I’ll just order some extra pizza,” I said back, sighing internally in relief at some semblance of normalcy.

-Still Wednesday -

I met Connor’s gym friend. To be honest, already forgot his name. He gave me a wink when he shook my hand and I couldn’t stop staring all dinner. I think even Connor picked up on it. He looked almost jealous with all the attention I usually gave him being directed at the stranger. The stranger asked to use the bathroom, and I wanted to let him know how to get to it, but he seemed to already know the path.

“Hey bro, is it cool if I stay the night?“ I nodded automatically, lost in deep thought.

There’s something peculiar about the Connor’s gym friend. And I didn’t notice it until I was already in bed. Then hit me like a brick. 

That fucking smirk. 

-End-

If anyone knows who this guy is, please let me know… for.. uh.. research purposes.

[kyberphilosopher]

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead. 

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired. 

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits. 

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you  liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights. 

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest. 

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.  

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face. 

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry. 

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair. 

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic? 

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly. 

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why. 

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber. 

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God. 

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. 

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?” 

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place. 

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening. 

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you. 

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look. 

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around. 

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too. 

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing. 

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls. 

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

[kasienda]

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 6 - Miraculous Abuse

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 4: A Thank You

Chapter 5: Unwanted Revelations

Chapter 6: Miraculous Abuse

If Adrien had avoided using the snake before, he now was operating on the other extreme. Ladybug had told him to abuse it, and he’s not sure she would have meant it quite so literally, but well… he and Nino had come up with a list. 

It had started with his homework. If he could finish his homework in far less time, he’d  have more time to visit Nino and Marinette. Not that it took a lot of time to visit Marinette as it was usually a loop, so even if he spent hours with her, it never took longer than ten minutes as far as the rest of the world was concerned. 

He unfortunately couldn’t do all of his homework in a time loop because that would leave whatever he had completed in the last five minutes erased. But he could do all the reading, researching, planning, and studying in a loop. Anything that didn’t require him to write anything down. 

Nathalie had only walked on him transformed once. 

“Yes, Nathalie?” he had asked, without looking up from his textbook. He hadn’t even thought about it. 

She stood stock still and was dead silent. He glanced towards her with a frown - her eyes were comically wide, but that was the only sign that she was shocked. He glanced down, and remembered he was transformed at Aspik. 

Read on Ao3

“Oh shit!” 

But it had been easy enough to fix. He just reset, destranformed, waited for Nathalie to come in and deliver his schedule changes for the week and leave, and then he transformed again. 

And then Nino had realized if he could pack all of his studying into the space of five minutes, Adrien could surely squeeze in some well deserved leisure time as well. 

It only took 71 loops to read a hundred thousand words, and Adrien had long ago discovered the joys of fanfiction, but he had never really had time to read more than a bit here or there. Now? With unlimited time and an entire endless library of things to read based on his favorite games and anime? Let’s just say his current power set brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Just One More Chapter.” 

And a season of anime was only 119 loops. Hell, he had gotten through all 981 episodes of One Piece in 4532 loops, which was still nothing compared to his time as Aspik, and honestly, far less traumatizing. 

He had felt slightly guilty about it. He was literally using the powers of time travel to watch anime. 

But when he mentioned it to Nino, his friend had just rolled his eyes. “Dude! You’re thinking about this all wrong. You’re a hero and we need you to be okay. This is about avoiding burnout as much as it is about having a good time. It’s so you get enough of a break and enough sleep to be a competent hero that we all need!”

But eventually the stories and shows hadn’t been enough to hold his attention. And he took another of Nino’s ideas and started paying visits to several of his friends. 

He had gone to Kagami first. He had no expectations of healing things with her, but he had always wanted to be able to explain so that his apologies might mean something.

“Chat Noir? Is there an akuma?” she asked by way of greeting. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Ah, no. I wanted to talk to you about something, but I also have to erase your memory after the fact to protect identities. Are you okay with that?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have piqued my curiosity. You may proceed.” 

He nodded. He had already activated his power before he had landed in her bedroom that was definitely as lavish as his own if not quite as spacious. 

“So… more than anything I wanted to apologize to you?”

She frowned. “I’m unaware of anything that you have done that would require an apology.”

“Kagami, I’m Adrien.”

Her eyes went wide for a second. “Ah, I see.” Then, she nodded. 

“That’s it?” 

“No, it makes a lot of sense.” And then she did something he never would have expected. She smiled. And most of his tension released. 

“I just wanted to explain now that I had the ability to. That I wasn’t ever lying to you or running from our dates because I wanted to.” 

“You had to sacrifice your own desires for a higher calling.”

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.”

She smiled at him again. “I appreciate you coming to explain and I understand completely why I can’t remember. May I ask you a question?” 

“Of course!” 

“Were you never in love with Marinette?”

“Well, I… uh… it was hard to see Marinette when I was completely enamored with Ladybug, but…”

She shook her head. “Are you in love with both of them now?” 

“I mean, sortve?” He knew Kagami hated when he ended every sentence as if it was a question. “They’re the same person.”

Kagami sighed. “How disappointing.” 

“Disappointing?! She’s amazing!” 

“I know, but if she’s Ladybug and you’re Chat Noir, I have never had a chance with either of you.” 

He felt like he had been thrown off a cliff. “What? You had feelings for Marinette?” 

She grinned. “Well, she is amazing, as you always say. At least I know that I have really good taste.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have ruined all your prospects.” 

“I will survive. Neither of you define me as a person.” 

“You’re pretty amazing, too, you know,” he told her sincerely. 

She nodded. “You honor me.” 

He laughed. “Kagami, please don’t get all formal on me. I’m still just me.” 

“Well, I hope you know that I appreciate all that you and Ladybug do for the city,” Kagami told him, ignoring his request.

“Thank you, Kagami. That means a lot coming from you.” 

She nodded in acknowledgment and he knew he was being dismissed, and then he slid the switch on his bracelet and he was on the roof of her family’s manor once again his heart a little lighter.

He had gone to Alya after that. He had been nervous since she was the one who tended to push him aside as Chat Noir. But his fears proved to be completely unfounded as for the most part she could never stop laughing whenever he revealed himself.

“Wait! You’re Adrien?!”

She burst into cackles immediately. 

“Why is that so funny?!” He has demanded the first time. 

She had just grinned, shaking her head and still chuckling. “I wish I could explain it to you, sunshine.” 

“I already know Marinette is Ladybug,” he said.

“Oh good! Then I don’t have to be panicked about accidentally slipping!” And she went back to rolling on the floor laughing. 

“You wouldn’t happen to already know Marinette’s other secret would you?” she asked.

His eyebrows scrunched together under his mask. “Umm… that she’s in love with me as Adrien?” 

Her face lit up. “Oh see!! You do get it!” 

He shook his head. “I do not get it.” 

“The two of you managed to get yourself in a love square. You’ve been chasing each other around like two cute little hamsters in hamster balls.” 

He sighed, far less amused than Alya at the current state of his Marinette’s relationship. “I’m really glad someone is getting some joy out of this.” 

“Hey!” she objected. “I’m only going to know this for another three minutes! Let me have my fun!”

He held up his hands in surrender, and he was smiling in spite of himself. Maybe some time in the future, after he and Marinette could be together, it would be funny to him, too.

“God! This is why it feels like I’m third-wheeling during akuma fights,” she exclaimed.

“You feel like a third wheel?!” he repeated in disbelief. “Have you seen the chaotic energy that is you and Marinette coming up with a plan together? I am definitely the third wheel in that situation.”

And then she was cackling again. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “Nino says I can be a bit of a bulldozer when I’m trying to find a solution to something.” 

“That’s putting it mildly,” he said dryly.

All the mirth fled her face and she looked at him in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

He nodded. “It’s not like I’m allowed to be anything else.” 

“No, don’t say that! You’re allowed to be upset with me! I deserve it sometimes.”

He shook his head. “I’m never going to hold your ability to defeat an akuma against you. I just… have felt a little unneeded lately,” he admitted.

She stared at him for a second and then she burst into laughter again. 

And despite still not getting it, he found himself chuckling, too. Her laughter was just that infectious. “Why do you find this so funny?” he asked. 

“Because you’re a literal superhero and a model with more money than god, and a heart of absolute gold. You work with her as Ladybug so well I have to deal with crazy conspiracy theorists on the Ladyblog  who think the two of you must be telepathic aliens!” 

“What? People don’t think that.” 

“They do! And it’s annoying. But my point is you’re the real deal, Agreste, and she’s crazy about you, and you know it, and yet you still manage to doubt yourself.” 

“I’m glad my struggles and hang ups are so amusing to you,” he said with a pout. 

She sat up and fist bumped his shoulder. “Aww! Sunshine! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, your insecurity makes you seem sweeter and cuter. And it makes you seem more human. I don’t mean to mock you in any way.”

He searched her face and only found open sincerity.

“Thanks, Alya.” 

“So, does she know that you know?” 

“I mean, she doesn’t right now. But I’ve told her. Many many times, but it was just like this and she doesn’t remember.” 

She softened. “That sounds difficult.” 

“It’s apparently better than the alternative,” he said, going for nonchalance, but he didn’t fool her if her scooching to sit right next to him was anything to go by.  

“I wish we could all fix it for you, Adrien.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“How are you?” 

He shrugged. “I’m okay at the moment. Some days are worse than others. Nino… Nino has been a godsend.” 

She smiled. “He is pretty amazing. He knows outside of a loop?” 

“He does.” 

“I’m glad you have that, Adrien. Marinette was falling apart at the seams before she told me.” 

“Does he know about Marinette?” Adrien asked. Sometimes, it seemed like Nino knew more than he was letting on. But maybe his friend was just really respectful of secrets and didn’t ask questions.

“Not from me! And he hasn’t told me about you being Chat Noir either.” 

Adrien glanced toward the window. 

“Does it bother you that there are secrets between the two of you?” he finally asked.

“No, not these ones. They’re not our secrets. They’re yours, and they’re Marinette’s, so they’re not ours to share.”

“I'm jealous,” he admitted.

She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Someday, you won’t have to be anymore.”

The Snake beeped it’s first warning. “Time’s just about up.”

She offered him a fist bump and then a hug. He reciprocated both. “I’m glad you stopped by, Sunshine. You’re always welcome any time you think my particular brand of company is something that would help you.” 

He grinned. “Thank you, Alya.” 

“I look forward to the day when all four of us can just be open about everything,” she said. 

He snorted. “You and me both.” 

His went to his bodyguard next. 

“I just wanted to apologize to you for always running off. I don’t mean to make your job harder or get you into trouble. I am literally running away to save the city.”

His bodyguard didn’t say anything. He never said anything. He had just let out a resigned sigh and then patted Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien took that as forgiveness and reset the loop. There was no sense in sitting there in awkward silence for another four and a half minutes. 

When he had told Nathalie one afternoon at her desk outside her office, she looked horrified - frozen as still as a statue trapped in Medusa’s gaze. 

“Nathalie?” 

“I… all this time?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I know it’s a lot. I know it causes you a bit of grief when I disappear.” 

She waved away his concern. “Right now, we’re in some kind of time loop and I won’t remember?” 

“But you will,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he confirmed anyway. 

“Adrien, I need you to listen to me.”

He nodded. 

“I can never find out. Your father can’t either. If you need something because you’re hurt or cornered, or…” she trailed off.

Was she crying? 

She cleared her throat. 

“Go to your friends. Their parents. Just… not your father, okay? Or me, because I’d have to inform him.”

His brows furrowed together in confusion. “Okay?” It wasn’t hard to to agree despite how weird she was being. He knew Paris needed him and he also knew that his father would never let him continue. Especially if he was seeking help due to an injury or something.

That’s what Nathalie was referring to, right? 

She patted him on the shoulder. It was even more awkward than when his bodyguard had done it. 

“Adrien, you’re quite impressive as a hero.” 

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

And then there was Marinette. He had learned that it was impossible to tell her he was Adrien without making her cry, which was frustrating because she was also so much more open and affectionate once she knew. 

“How do I get you to not breakdown when I tell you this?” he asked her seriously.

She laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry, kitty. I have no idea. It’s just… it’s not fair.” 

He smiled. “That’s what Ladybug always says,” he told her casually. She didn’t know that he knew this go around.

“She’s right! You deserve so much, and life… it’s not fair!”

He turned to her seriously. “I don’t need life to be fair, Mari. I just… don’t want to have to wear a mask all the time.” And then he smiled. “I’m glad that you’re okay with me doing this.” 

She nodded tearfully. “Anytime, Kitty. Anytime.”  

Then during a regular patrol at one point. He had just realized he wanted to make her laugh. So he spent another few hundred loops figuring out which jokes made her laugh the hardest and which ones were absolute duds. Then, on a day when she was having a hard time, he showed up on her balcony and gave her the best one hour comedy of her life. 

Her unrestrained laughter was so explosive she had literally fallen out of her chair. Totally worth it. 

“Thank you, kitty,” she said wiping the tears induced by her laughter. “You have no idea how much I needed this.” 

He hadn’t argued. “Of course, princess. I am always at your service!”

Then, he started working on the perfect confession. He was trying to see if he could get her to kiss him as Chat Noir without revealing his identity because, you know, that always made her cry. 

“Can I use the snake to ask you a very important question?” He has asked Ladybug on patrol. 

She nodded, and he activated it. 

“What do you think it would take to get you to kiss me?” 

She laughed. “Are you serious right now? That is your very important question?” 

“It is,” he nodded, but offered her a huge grin so she could take it as a joke if she wanted.

“Why? You haven’t been able to be successful yet?” she teased.

“Oh no! I’ve been super successful. All I really have to do is tell you my name.”

She scoffed.

“No, I’m serious!” he boasted with a huge grin splitting his face knowing she only half believed him.

“So, why don’t you just do that?” she asked seriously. 

“Because you always cry! And I don’t want to kiss away your tears. I want to make you smile.” 

She got quiet. “You know, we can’t be together right?” 

“Yeah Marinette,” he whispered. “I know that really well.”

 It was silent.

“How long have you known?” she asked softly.

He had no idea how to answer that question. Because time was now very weird for him. In one sense he had only known for a few weeks, on the other he had literally spent so much time in loops that it had to have been at least twice that at this point. Maybe more.

“A while,” he said. “But we’ve already talked about that to death. I’d much rather figure out how to get you to fall desperately in love with this half of me.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to fall desperately in love with you in five minutes?” 

He shrugged. “We have a solid foundation of trust and friendship. I’m not starting from nothing. Plus, I’ve fallen in love in less than five minutes before.” With her. He didn’t think he needed to say that though.  

She actually smiled. “Yeah, I’ve fallen in love pretty fast before, too.” 

And it occurred to him that he had no idea what had made her fall in love with Adrien. He probably could ask her, but that was one more memory that he wanted her to remember having told him. 

He could probably just show up on her balcony as regular old Chat Noir and just say something like, “So, Adrien Agreste, huh?” She’d probably tell him, and she’d even remember it. But she wouldn’t know that it was him she was telling. 

How the hell had his life gotten so complicated? 

“There’s no way I would start crying just from knowing your name though,” she said. “You have to be making that up.”

He just turned to her and raised his eyebrows. 

The expression probably didn’t work as well with his transformation covering them. 

But she still hesitated. “There’s no way!” she exclaimed, but then she got a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Unless…” 

And then her eyes started welling with tears.

And he almost laughed. But he managed to hold it back.

“Oh, come here, bug,” he said instead, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to him. And he just held her as she shook silently. 

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. 

“I know,” he said, and then kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“Do you see my problem now?” he said after another pause. 

And she laughed through her tears, which had been his intention, and he smiled.

She pulled away. “I’ve thought about it before, you know.”

“Thought about what?”

“Letting myself fall for Chat Noir?”

He hugged her tighter. “Yeah?” 

“It never seemed like it would be that hard. I think if it hadn’t been for Chat Blanc, it would have happened after New York.”

He laughed. “Really? New York was when I thought maybe I should ask out Marinette.” 

She looked up at him in horror. “Oh my god! We’re just perpetually screwed, aren’t we? We’re just going to keep missing each other over and over!”

He kissed her hand. “No m’lady,” he assured. “That can’t happen because now I know, and I can’t forget.” 

And then she was crying again, harder. “I don’t want to forget either.”

“I know,” he told her, kissing her hand again. “I promise it won’t be forever.” 

“I love you, Adrien.” 

“I love you, too.”

And that time, of the two of them, it was he who was stronger and able to slide his fingers across the reset. 

And he might have stayed in that loop far longer than he should have trying to figure out the way to the heart he had apparently already won.

He learned that she did enjoy his flirting whatever she said to the contrary, but the moments where he was vulnerable and genuine were the ones that seemed to move her the most.

But none of it was quite enough. If he wanted a kiss, he always had to tell her his name. 

But despite his failure, pulling himself out of that loop was the hardest thing he had ever done.

And that’s how he knew he was in trouble. 

… 

“Nino, you have to take this away from me,” Adrien said, holding out the snake miraculous. He had just arrived and released both his transformations. 

Nino took it, his eyebrows pinched together. “What? Why?” 

“Because I’m scared I’m going to go into a loop and I’m never going to come out of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Look! Being here with you, with you knowing everything, is amazing. It’s the only time I feel like myself, unless,” he held up the bracelet, “I’m using this and… it’s getting harder to pull myself out of the loops.” 

“Your visits to Ladybug?” 

“Yeah,” Adrien admitted. “She told me to go every single day so I would remember what it was like to be loved,” he paused for a second, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. “The problem is I really really like being loved.” 

And then he couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. 

Nino pulled him by the arm down to the ground and sat right next to him shoulder to shoulder.

Adrien buried his face in his hands. 

“For the record, dude,” Nino whispered. “You are loved even outside a loop with Ladybug.” 

Adrien threw his arms around Nino. “I honestly don’t know why you put up with me at this point. I feel like you have to put up with a lot.”

Nino grinned. “Hey! I happen to like hanging out with you! This shift has been awesome because I get to see you way more often.” 

“And I’m not like messing up date night with Alya or anything, am I?” 

“Nah!” Nino waves away his concern. “Alya and I hangout in the mornings and during lunch. Lately Marinette has monopolized her evenings.” 

Adrien managed to keep a straight face at that. “If you and her ever do need a day away from the children, I’m sure Marinette and I can figure out a way to take care of ourselves for a day.” 

Nino burst out laughing. 

“What?! I’m a big boy and Marientte’s a big girl. We can take care of ourselves.” 

Nino just shook his head, still snickering. 

“Maybe all four of us could do something some time,” Nino suggested, his eyes sparkling.

Adrien narrowed his eyes. Did Nino know? He knew he couldn’t ask without giving it away, and he had just handed over the snake. 

“That sounds really nice,” Adrien said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle going on a double date that he had to pretend wasn’t a double date. But someday. 

He wanted to cry again, but his eyes remained dry. 

“So, you just want me to keep it?” Nino asked, holding up the bracelet. “Should I hide it here in the room? Or wear it?” 

“Wear it,” Adrien said. That was the only way Nino would know where it was at all times. “But don’t use it. Not even for an akuma.”

He didn’t want Nino to ever experience a loop on the battlefield. Not if he could help it. 

“I reserve the right to come save your ass if necessary,” Nino said as he slipped the miraculous around his wrist. 

Adrien laughed. “Okay, but please don’t unless you absolutely have to. I don’t need Ladybug pissed at me for giving away a miraculous.” 

Nino frowned at him then. “Why are you giving this to me, instead of back to her?” 

Adrien’s answer to that was complicated. Partly because he didn’t want Marinette to know that his loops with her were hurting him even as they gave him hope, and he definitely didn’t want her to know that he had fallen to the point of being borderline addicted. 

But there was also a strategic element to his choice. He could approach Nino in either form, and Nino would know to trust him. 

“You know who I am,” Adrien finally said. 

“Will you be okay without it?” Nino asked.

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m definitely not okay with it right now.” He paused, then looked at Nino. “I might be texting and calling you a lot over the next few days.” 

Nino laughed. “I can’t promise to answer right away all the time, but you can always do that, man. Always.” 

Adrien let his head fall onto Nino’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you that you’re the absolute best?” 

“I could stand to hear it a few more times,” Nino said. 

Adrien grinned. “Noted.”

…

Chapter 7: The Five Minute Adventures of Ananta

[broadstflyers]

A/N: I am so excited to be starting my first ever series. This is inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Cardigan” because her music creates stories in my head that I must write down on (digital) paper. Please keep in mind this chapter is written in past tense, and the story probably won't be in present tense for at least another few chapters. Let me know what you think! If you want to be on the tag list for the next chapter, or drop any (constructive) feedback, you can take this survey here.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter two

Grade: 9 Age: 14 --------------------------------- As sure as you are that spring comes after winter, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and seconds turn into minutes, you know you are in love with Joel Farabee. Not the gushy “I want to hug you and kiss you and never let you go” love, the intense “I want to burst at the seams because I just want to scream it on the rooftops and tell you and it literally crushes my heart that I can’t” love.

Yeah, that love.

The problem?

You were only fourteen when you knew.

Yes, the grand old age of fourteen. The age you were supposed to be nervously texting multiple boys, wondering if you were going to be asked to the ninth grade dance and worrying about who your first kiss was going to be, or even the first person you were going to hold hands with.

It started on the first day of school, but the start of it all was less than romantic. You shuffled up the hallway with one of your best friends, your feet felt like lead.

“What’s wrong?” Luna whispered in your ear.

“I really hate math,” you huffed. It was the last period of the day, eighth period, and you had to spend it in what was probably going to be a room full of rambunctious athletes who would be itching to burst out of the room at the very sound of the bell. How did you know this? Because you had been stuck in a class like that ever since the beginning of middle school. It made for some laughs, yes, but for some reason a pessimistic attitude bitterly swarmed around you in dark circles. Also, math in general made you anxious, and it didn’t help that the last few years you had to fend for yourself because of your lack of friends in said class.

“Well, at least you’ll have me this year,” Luna attempted to reassure you and your looming anxiety.

“Yeah, but I wonder who’s going to be in our class this year,” you mumbled. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies, but you’d rather call them icky moths.

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but you reached the door frame before her. Before you could even make it through the entrance, you made eye contact with a group of rowdy boys sitting at a table directly in front of you. You stopped dead in your tracks. They paused in their shouting to turn and look at you and Luna, since you were only about seven or eight feet away.

You scanned their faces, and you recognized most of them. They were mostly hockey players that played for the local team that looked for a shot at the NTDP in just a few short years. It was Syracuse, hockey was a pretty big deal there. There was also the prospective varsity quarterback and his star wide-receiver, these labels given to them at just fourteen. Of course, more athletes. Suddenly, you locked eyes with this boy you strangely have never seen before. His hand was hovering in air over his friend’s head with what you could only assume is his friend’s pencil in a lame attempt to keep him from grabbing it.

He blinked a few times, and you might have blinked a few times, you honestly couldn’t remember.

You snapped out of your trance and looked over to the board that said, “Welcome class! Pick your seats for the first day!”

“Hey,” Luna nudged you and grabbed your arm, “let’s sit over there.”

She lead you to a table adjacent to the boys’ table, despite your unheard protests of being “too close” to them.

You took your seat huffing, and you pulled out your binder and got ready for class, something you wished the crazy boys would pick up on. Thankfully the bell rang, your teacher shut the door, and class began.

That’s the first time you saw him. Not very eventful, but hey, you two were awkward fourteen year olds just entering grade nine. Of course things were not going to be all fireworks and love at first sight.

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

A few classes went by, and the only disturbance that occurred was when the class was taking one of those horrible diagnostic tests. See, you really hated disturbances, interruptions, anything relating to that matter.

So when this dude named Joel (you learned his name when he was yelled at for playing rap music in the middle of class) started fooling around with his friend while you were trying to figure out why letters were in math now, you weren’t happy, to say the least.

And when he locked eyes with you and made a silly face, yours did not move in a rather unamused manner. You simply blinked and looked back down at your test.

You missed his face slightly fall, but it was short lived when the teacher yelled his name from across the room and made everyone jump ten feet. He was quiet after that.

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

It was a random Tuesday in late October.

You and Luna were chatting about your previous classes, until you both stopped in your tracks and you raised an eyebrow. Everyone in your class was standing up and congregating away from tables. You could hear the ominous music creeping over everyone’s heads.

“Oh no,” you whined to Luna.

She winced. “We’re being assigned seats, aren’t we?”

You nodded. You both stood in the sea of kids and awaited your fate.

“Alright, everyone,” your teacher said. “You guys have been extremely chatty lately.” She paused to side-eye Joel and his friends.

He opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly shut it when she frowned.

“So you leave me no choice, but I must assign seats,” she dramatically said as she unveiled the new seating chart on the board.

Everyone pushed and shoved to the front to see where their name lied in the cards of fate. You heard some soft celebrations and loud protests.

You nudged your way in and scanned up and down the board. Luna wasn’t at the same table, but she was sitting facing towards you at another table. Hopefully you and her would be able to make eye contact. You scanned until you see your name fall right next to someone who you would rather forget you treated so poorly. It was there in bright, bold red.

Joel Farabee.

“Aw man,” you and a voice said in unison. You looked up at your side to see that it’s him. Oh dear brother. Did you both just admit out loud that you don’t want to sit next to each other? You and him rolled your eyes at each other, huffing that you’ll be forced to be in each other’s presence.

And you knew he was thinking some sort of variation of what you were: how dare your teacher.

You trudged over to your seat and plopped down. He threw down his stuff and sat next to you. You could sense his extreme dislike for your rather serious demeanor. Hey, you could crack a smile.

Just not around him. And for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. It’s almost like if you did, you knew you would never stop...

You both avoided eye contact, you played with your pencil as he yelled to one of his friends across the classroom about some stupid video game.

And that’s just how it was for weeks. You’d both come in, sit down, he’d scream to his friends, you’d fight shooting him a really dirty look.

Until one day, you accidentally did. Now, later when you told Luna, you swore up and down you didn’t mean to, and it was just the fact that seventh period gym was terrible (but when was it not). Okay, so maybe you were fed up with him yelling about whatever rap song came out, or whatever Instagram model popped up on his feed (that made you shutter).

But what you did wasn’t really admittedly the nicest.

“Joel, do you always have to yell so freaking loudly?” you snapped.

He feigned a stunned expression, or maybe he really meant it, who knows what goes on in that boy’s seemingly empty head.

“Do you have to be such a downer…like all the time? Kinda ruins the vibe bro.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks Joel, because the number one thing I care about is ruining your ‘vibe’,” you put that word in air quotes, “and not getting any work done in this class, bro.”

Now he rolled his eyes. “Look, you could benefit from loosening up a little, you know? You’re kind of just, not a fun person.”

A look of real hurt flashed across your face. One that he caught. “No,” you punctually state. Then you turn your seat so you completely have your back to him and you’re facing the board.

Meanwhile Luna and your table-mates watched the whole situation unfold. Okay, and maybe most of the class.

And when the bell rang and he called your name, you simply decided you didn’t hear it.

“He’s calling you,” Luna prodded.

You just shook your head as you continued down the hallway to the bus. On the bus, you had some thinking to do.

Did he really think of you as...boring? You usually didn’t let the immature words of boys get to you, but this, this really hurt.

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

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Luna insisted that evening while lying on your bedroom floor that same Friday evening.

“Yes he did, and he’s kind of right,” you begrudgingly conceded. “I haven’t been the nicest to him,” you sigh into your hands, “and maybe I should be.”

“Well, what’s stopping you?” Luna curiously asked.

“I, I don’t know.”

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

The following Monday, you winced and leaned into Luna as you approached the classroom. To say you were terrified is an understatement.

But you took a deep breath, held your head high, and locked your face into a neutral expression. You never let anyone get the best of you, and you weren’t going to let Joel out of all people be one of the first.

Luna offered a small sympathetic smile as she made her way to her seat.

Your heart beated out of your chest anticipating his arrival. Sure enough, you caught him out of the corner of your eye. He took his time and strutted around the room to talk to all the friends he had. He was obviously looking to avoid you, too.

Coward.

Eventually, he made his way to his seat. He cleared his throat, but you didn’t budge. Ever heard of being saved by the bell?

“I’m going to hand back everyone’s quizzes from last class,” your teacher announced. You audibly groaned. That quiz did not go well. Who puts diamonds and boxes and something called factoring in math?

Sure enough, she shoved a C- into your sweaty hands.

“Dang,” you whispered.

You glanced over at Joel’s paper. 100%.

Are you kidding me?

His prying eyes had the audacity to spot your C-, as if you didn’t pry on his paper seconds before.

“That’s rough,” he said, trying to make eye contact with you.

“I- um, yeah, it is,” you choked out with your eyes still glued on your paper.

His heart broke when he heard your wavering voice. He had to do something.

“Can I see it?” He quietly asked, when quiet usually isn’t typically his demeanor.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Uh, sure?”

He took the paper and started drawing stars around the C- mark, very messily, may you add.

You went to take the paper back, but he moved it away from your grasp.

“One second,” he pleaded. He stuck his tongue out in concentration.

You tried to see how badly he was defacing your quiz, but the position of his arm prohibited you from peering over to see.

“Done,” he proudly said as he slid the paper back over to you.

Instead of a plain old C-, there was now...a C- with stars around it.

“Joel, this is very lovely and all, but why the stars around the C-?”

He smiled with his sickeningly sweet toothless grin, and your heart absolutely backflipped into oblivion.

“That’s not a C-,” he goofily joked, “that’s the moon, y/n,” he said through a smile. “See it?”

You looked up from your paper and looked at him in the eye. Your hands shook from adrenaline, your heart was fluttering, goodness, you didn’t know how you could feel any lighter.

That smile was going to be the death of you.

“Yeah, Joel,” you cracked a smile, “I do see it. Thank you,” you sincerely said.

Crack a smile.

You cracked a smile.

His heart skipped a beat. He knew instantly he was going to do whatever it took to keep that smile on your face for as long as possible. He didn’t care what he would have to do.

He smiled once more, and he turned to his buddies to shield his face from you. He didn’t want you to see how red it was turning. He proceeded to explain to them how perfect his stars were and how no one could top them. Something along the lines of “Bro, you have to see this one, it’s so perfect bro…” He also told them how he made you feel better while slapping his chest, for some reason, as in yeah, I made the mopiest girl in school smile. He sounded like he was priding himself on it.

His smile, the way he talked about you, those freaking stars. You’d let him draw those all over your arm instead any day.

At that age, you may not have known why there were letters in algebra, but you knew that the way he made you feel wasn't the same as you did with your two other crushes back in middle school. This just felt...absolutely weird.

But absolutely right.

And that’s the story of how at just fourteen years old, you knew you were absolutely screwed.

[hihl]

alright time to unleash this one into the wild

i saw someone on twitter point out that in this panel was what might’ve been the last instance anyone ever thanked gojo for....anything, really

AND GOD. GOD.

gojo is the dude who bottles it all up. he’s the dude whose efforts go unnoticed most of the time - he’s the dude who no one ever bothers to check up on but it’s okay i guess. i mean earning gratitude or whatever other form of external validation was never what drove him to put in so much into his work in the first place, but man it would not hurt to receive a “thanks”. at least geto used to voice his appreciation towards him. i don’t think that was something gojo was ever familiar with

yeah sure you can call him a man child all you want you can pick on him you can call him annoying i get it! it’s all in good fun. i get it. i do it too sometimes. but do you just ever think about how that might just all be a front gojo puts up. how it literally IS a front he puts up. i know it’s pretty obvious but do you ever think about the tons of weight his shoulders have to carry hidden behind all the roll-with-the-punches dumbassery he puts on display and how regardless of that he has to continue pretending like everything’s A-okay. how regardless of being taken for granted by the people around him, regardless of all the past present and future burdens surrounding him and looming over him like a dark cloud, he has to bear with it. not just for the others but for himself too. i mean he’s the Strongest Sorcerer he can’t afford the time to let himself be vulnerable and to fully process everything he went through with geto. one year isn’t enough but too many damn people rely on him. he can’t. not now not ever probably. all he can do is force himself into a myriad of distractions; let his sorcerer work get in the way of self-reflection

you know in shibuya arc when they finally reunited? one look at gojo’s expression alone and it’s blatantly clear his world had shattered. his best friend, who he was forced to murder because he was the only one who was capable of doing so, was there. his best friend, who gojo had to watch turn into this unrecognizable figure that was the embodiment of everything he’s against. his best friend, who for some fucking reason gojo still considers to be his best friend (the reason being that despite all geto’s done despite all the betrayal gojo was subjected to he STILL has faith in him). his best friend, geto. his one and only. directly in his presence. gojo’s lack of internalization in regards to everything he’s had to endure over the years must’ve been threatening to burst at the seams right at that very moment, but once again he still had to keep his posture straight

damn lol that’s crazy *starts loudly crying*

[waterfallmelody]

I finished chapter 2!

I wanted to record some of my initial thoughts.

Firstly, this is a theory blog after all so, a lot of theories the community had basically got confirmed in this chapter and I wanted to say something about those!

Lightners have the power to create dark fountains! As well as the power to seal them. And Noelle has some special ability with this apparently.

"Darkness" means the Dark World. The "darkness growing" is the Dark Fountains springing up all over the town. (it feels like this is Gaster's doing? he's the one doing all of this? Perhaps.)

It follows from that that Entry No 17 is very much connected to what's going on in Deltarune. "Darkness growing", "shadows cutting deeper"? It's hard to deny. But it raises a whole lot more questions at the same time.

And now I wanted to talk about the last scene. Once again we got a spooky Kris ripping out their soul and, zombie-esque, shuffling around and pulling out a knife. It was revealed at the beginning of the chapter that the first time Kris did this, they just(?) used the knife to eat all of the pie from the oven. But this time it seems just a touch more sinister - they crawled out of the window into the dark and returned a few minutes later. Later in the evening Toriel phones the police to report seeing someone shambling around outside and slashing the tires of her car. Was that Kris? It could have been. If it was, it seems like Kris doesn't want to go back to school for some reason. Maybe I'm extrapolating without evidence. But the evidence is piling up that they really don't want to go along with this story, whatever it is.

The Dark World is almost definitely a Real Thing. There was some room for doubt in the first chapter, it felt like it wasn't yet established whether we saw an actual secret world in the cupboard, or if Kris and Susie were just playing a really long an elaborate make-believe game. But in Chapter 2 it's pretty much established that the Dark World is a Real Thing That's Happening.

The final moment of the game, when Kris draws a knife and the screen is covered by black billowing clouds, feels to me like Kris summoned a Dark Fountain. But if they slashed the tires of their mum's car it would suggest that they don't want to go back to the Dark World? I guess we won't know what really happened until the next chapter.

Can we talk about how skilled a writer Toby Fox is for a second? It was so evident in Undertale how good his characters are and Deltarune has more than lived up to Undertale's precedent. I can't even say what it is about his writing that makes it so good. Toby only needs a single line of dialogue to establish everything you need to know about a character, make you laugh out loud, and make you love that character with your whole heart all in one go. And the recurring characters are bursting at the seams with uniqueness and charm. The delight I felt every time Lancer made an appearance was unreal. Same with Rouxls.

Ok, with the theories over and done with for now I wanted to give my thoughts as a whole because dude. That chapter what just. Solid fun all the way through. The characters I loved them! Something about the Queen's voice just made everything she said 10x more hilarious. All the enemies were full of character and there were a ton of unique acts which much have taken so much work like wow. I can't even pick a favourite. Actually, maybe it was Tasque Manager, solely because the pun caught me way off guard. This game is a delight. All the computer-related puns were beautiful. Top notch. Mwah. Truly Toriel-worthy.

As for favourite NPCs, it's got to be Sweet, Cap'n and K_K. I love those guys. They just have a good vibe. Seeing them again at the end when everyone came to help out with the final battle gave me a lot of joy.

And the beautiful relationships he writes between the characters make you Feel things with a capital F. I was rooting for Susie and Noelle's budding romance with all my might. And somehow Toby even made me feel bad for Berdly. That's what I love about Toby's writing - you can never predict it. Even the annoying and arrogant Berdly gets redemption in the end.

One of my favourite scenes was when Ralsei talked about friendship, and how friendship isn't just being nice to someone, because no one's nice all the time. It's about being friends with all of somebody, because the nice and the not-so-nice bits together make them who they are.

Oh, and the music! Maybe that's another essay. But for now I'll say I felt like the music got even better this chapter if that's even possible. Toby Fox always puts music front and centre in his games and I could talk for a very long time about how cool that is because I'm a total nerd, but I'll save that for another time. The cyber fields song is the best one though fight me

Anyway that's all for now, we support Lancer and his three dads, see you later

[unholyobsessions]

snapped in two (it’s actually a torus fracture)

Description: Luke did not expect to be awoken on a Saturday morning because his girlfriend's little brother broke his arm, but that's what happens and he doesn't hesitate to help him.

Requested: Yes

a/n: don’t know if i actually fullfilled the request but i like this (also posted on ao3 under unholy_obsessions)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

Luke’s phone is ringing. He grumbles at the loud noise that wakes him from his afternoon nap and rolls out of his unmade bed. He’s confused on who would be calling because Julie is camping with Flynn and has no service, Alex is on a date with Willie, Bobby has the morning shift at the record store, and Reggie refuses to wake up before three pm on Saturdays. 

For a minute he considers not answering the phone, thinking it will most likely be a spam call that will leave him in a sour mood for the rest of the day but he eventually decides against it and walks to the other side of the room where his phone is charging on his shelf. 

He doesn’t recognize the number but it’s an LA area code so he swiftly slides his thumb over the screen and presses the device to his ear. 

“Hello?” He grumbles, voice thick with sleep. 

“Mr. Patterson? This is Henry, I coach Carlos’ baseball team.” That wakes him up. Luke’s posture straightens and his eyes narrow in confusion. Why is his girlfriend’s little brother’s coach calling him? As if the man could read his mind, he continues to speak. “I’m calling because it seems like Carlos has had an accident and he insisted that I call you.” 

Luke doesn’t even have to think before answering. “I’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone, shoves his feet into his sneakers, snatches his keys and runs out the door. He doesn’t even bother to turn on the car’s air conditioning before he backs out of the driveway and speeds all the way to the baseball field where he knows Carlos always has his games, which is thankfully not far from his home. 

Parking the car haphazardly in the first available space he sees, he rushes to the fence, having to stop the urge from jumping over it before getting to the open gate. He freezes when he sees Carlos sitting on the bench with various teammates surrounding him and silent tears streaming down his face. He is holding his arm and Luke can only guess that it’s probably broken, considering the pain clearly displayed in his eyes. 

Luke approaches cautiously, making eye contact with the coach and laying a hand on Carlos’ shoulder. “Hey little man,” Carlos takes one look at him and buries his head in Luke’s chest and Luke doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around him. Coach Henry gets his attention, asking if he should call an ambulance. Luke grimaces, knowing that the team will in no way cover the expenses of having the ambulance travel to the field and it will be much faster to just take Carlos himself. Luke tells the coach as such and helps Carlos stand up, basically carrying him to his car, that once he sees, notices just how awful his parking skills are. 

Not wanting to waste any time, he opens Carlos’ door and rushes to the driver’s side, starting the car and pulling out before even putting his seatbelt on. The ride to the hospital is silent, the only noise being Carlos’ quiet sniffles of pain. Luke grimaces at the sound, wishing that he could be of more comfort to the boy. The silence however gives him time to think. Why did Carlos call him? Sure he has known him since the kid was eight, having known Julie since eighth grade and dating her since sophomore year, but he has never been the person people call when they’re in need of help. He loves Carlos as his own brother and would quite literally put his life down for him but he didn’t think the kid though that much of him. 

He also kicks himself because he always makes an effort to go to Carlos’ games, especially when Ray can’t. But then again, he always goes with Julie and she wasn’t home to tell him about it. 

At a red light a block away from the hospital, Luke spares a glance at Carlos, who is staring out the window and taking long, deep breaths. He’s about to say something but the light turns green and he turns back on the road before accelerating, flipping his turn signal on and pulling into the parking lot. 

He guides Carlos into the building with a hand on his shoulder and he is thankful that the pediatrics ward is mostly empty, meaning that it won’t take long to get them checked in. 

After about fifteen minutes of sitting in the waiting room, Luke having filled in all the forms, not even having to ask Carlos for the information, they call them in. It takes about two hours of looking Carlos over, performing an x-ray and getting his arm in a cast after determining that it is indeed broken. In that time, Luke has called Ray who said he would be back immediately. Luke reassured him that it was fine and that he didn’t mind staying with Carlos for the rest of the weekend. After getting a very reluctant Ray to finish his photography conference, Luke signed the discharge papers, picked up the prescription pain killers, and took Carlos home. 

The car ride back is much less stressful, with Carlos dozing off in the passenger seat and Luke turning on the radio to play some soft music. He keeps glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, trying his best to decipher how the kid is feeling. 

Once the car is parked in front of the Molina household, Carlos is suddenly hit with a burst of energy as he runs inside and immediately dials his best friend’s phone number. 

Luke rushes after him but is not fast enough because he has to get the stuff from the car. He walks through the door and catches the end of Carlos’ sentence. 

“Yeah dude broken. Like snapped in two,” he says it way more excited than someone with a broken arm should be. 

“It’s not snapped in two, you have a Torus fracture.” Luke mumbles with a roll of his eyes and a fond smile on his lips. Carlos obviously ignores him and goes on to tell his friend that he can sign his cast on Monday. 

After hanging up, Luke guided Carlos to the kitchen where Ray had told him there were left overs in the fridge for them to eat. Carlos eyes the spaghetti in the tupperware and Luke has a feeling that this is not the first time that he has had spaghetti this week. Placing the lid back on top of the container, Luke turns to Carlos ready to negotiate.

“Tell you what, we’ll order pizza if you don’t tell your dad.” Carlos grinned and nodded his head, running out of the kitchen to bring the phone to Luke.

. . .

“You know when I first started dating Julie I thought you didn’t like me,” Luke states, glancing down at the boy pressed against him on the couch. After stuffing themselves with way too much pizza, Luke and Carlos retired to the living room to watch whatever movie was playing on cable. 

“Huh?” Carlos questions, narrowing his eyes in confusion, the movie playing on the tv fully forgotten now. “Why would you think that?”

Luke shrugs. “You didn’t talk much and you always preferred to hang out with Reggie when we all came over.” He tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting Carlos to think that he is jealous (he used to be, not anymore).

“I did like you, I actually really look up to you.” Carlos turns back to the TV, letting his eyes rake over the action sequence. 

Now it is Luke’s turn to be confused. “Really?” 

“Yeah I mean, you’re so cool! You play guitar, everyone likes you, and you make Julie happy.” 

“Then why…” he trails off. 

“You were always making music, locked yourselves in the studio. I didn’t want to be a bother.” Carlos’ voice turns sad, and Luke shifts in order to be able to look at him properly. 

“You’re never a bother Carlos. You could have joined us and learned a thing or two.” Carlos picks on the edges of his cast, avoiding eye contact. 

“Music was always mom and Julie’s thing and she always said she would teach me one day, but then,” Carlos stops and takes a deep breath. “And I couldn’t ask Julie and then she joined the band so it felt like I would be intruding, somehow.” 

Luke thinks back to all the times Carlos has stayed during soundcheck for their shows, completely fascinated by them. He always thought he was looking on with pride at his sister, but now he understands that it was much more than that. He felt left out, Julie played music to connect with her mom, in order to feel her watching over. Carlos couldn’t share that connection. 

“I could teach you,” Luke says after a second. Carlos’ head snaps up, eyes disbelieving. 

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m not really an expert on the piano but I can teach you how to play guitar.” Carlos’ eyes lit up with something Luke couldn’t quite describe. In a flurry of movement, Carlos throws himself on top of Luke, who is quick to reach out and avoid falling off and further injuring the young boy. 

“Thank you,” Carlos whispers. 

After a few minutes of hugging, Luke stands up and pulls a notebook out of his backpack. It looks old, with pages falling off the seams and others taped together from loose sheets of paper. It was his first music journal that he carries everywhere even though he has no purpose for it, already knowing all of the cords scribbled down like the back of his hand. He hands it to Carlos who eyes it warily. 

“Well, I can’t teach you how to play right now so while you are recovering you can learn the cords, proper placement, all that jazz. And once you get that cast off I’ll teach you how to play,” Luke gestured down and Carlos hesitantly opened the notebook and started examining the pages. 

“You really do have horrible handwriting,” he comments. Luke gapes at him for a second then starts laughing, pushing his shoulder. Carlos smiles then starts laughing as well and then they both laugh for about twenty minutes, forgetting what actually caused them to laugh in the first place. 

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama/Deltarune Semi-Crack Fic

The not-awaited, not asked for Lamia Drama X Deltarune crackfic that absolutely no one wanted, but might now find they want!

I played Deltarune Chapter 2 and just decide to write some silliness for fun. This is extremely non-canon to everything involved. Spoilers (kinda but not really) for DeltaRune Chapter 2.

Warnings for swearing, an extremely brief moment of existential dread, and one sexual joke.

As always, the species of lamia I use come from @vex-bittys

If this is your cup of tea, maybe buy me a Kofi?

           Susie stared up at the sign in front of them. “Kris. This…. Is this a fucking pet shop???” Susie said. The sign said “Caring Coils” and had a picture of someone part skeleton, part snake.

           “No! It’s a spring shop!” Lancer said. What else could “Coils” mean?

           “U-Um… I… I don’t know where this building came from???” Ralsei said. As far as he was aware, they had seen neither snakes nor springs on their journey, but apparently this was in Castle Town now! Somehow!

           Kris walked in. It was surprisingly bright for something in the Dark World, eerily similar to what it’d be like in the light world, but given that the main inhabitants seemed to be the apparent offspring of Jockington and Sans, just… What was even happening here.

           “Are these, like, half skeleton, half snake?” Susie said, walking up and knocking on the glass holding the Mamba. A dozen or so snakes suddenly tackled the glass, hissing at her. “Okay, not gonna lie, that’s kinda cool. You think they bite?”

           Kris just stared at the sign on the glass enclosure saying “Please Ask Before Handling – We Bite – Highly Venomous” until Susie got the hint.

           Regardless, Susie hummed, seriously contemplating sticking her entire hand in there anyways. “Hey. Hey Noelle, you dare me?”

           “SUSIE NO!”

           “C’mon, does venom even work on monsters?”

           “Hah! Clearly you know nothing. Monsters do not have blood and nerves to shut down the same way humans do,” Berdly said, strolling over to the Mamba enclosure. “They don’t even look that tough. Look! They’re worm- AAAAAAAAAAAA;LKJSDFLK;JDFA!” He had stuck his hand in there and immediately gotten himself bitten by like 13 Mamba. He flapped his wings, running around the room and sending bitty Mamba flying absolutely everywhere. Tiny battle cries filled the room as they chased after Berdly.

           “Um… Kris? Should we help him?” Ralsei said, watching the chaos.

           Kris answered No, deciding to instead head into the back. Unlike the skeletal-snakes who were snake sized in the front, this area seemed inhabited by skeleton-sized skele-snakes. Kind of. Most were shorter than Kris, except one Cobra who zipped directly by them with a weaponized mop in hand. Kris peaked back – looks like the cobra dude was mopping up the little skelesnakes. Cool, that’s been settled.

           They got a few odd looks as they browsed the area. It had snake things, and child things. Presumably for snake children, which most of these seemed to be. If not for the supplies and price tags, it’d be easy to mistake this place for an orphanage – which Kris could understand, who would want a Sans X Jockington baby?

           Oh hey, that one might be an adult. A particularly grumpy looking  skele-snake looked them up and down, them immediately flipped them off, “Oh great, I thought I was done with human shit. Or whatever the fuck you are.”

           Kris flipped him off back. What meaningful dialogue.

             Meanwhile, Ralsei was trying to figure out what he should do. In the few seconds Kris had left, Suzy had broken another enclosure completely and even more snakes were running around, not at all helped by Lancer and Rouxls mistaking the new lightners(?) for worms and trying to eat them. Berdly had been swiftly knocked out by the tiny swarm.

           Thankfully, something answered Ralsei’s prayers. He didn’t expect his newly found angel to be a 12-foot-something long version of the things causing chaos, but he literally started mopping up the little ones and depositing them into boxes. As soon as that was done, he gave them all an exhausted, withering stare, “Why. Just… why.”

           “Worms are tasty!” chirped Lancer.

           “These are not worms, we’re lamia,” the new person said. He sighed, straightening himself, “Where are my manners. I’m Nikolai. Apparently the rest of the staff disappeared, somehow, and I have no idea where we are, so forgive me if I’m a bit… in need of several of wines.” His “staff” uniform had been replaced by gold and white robes… and a small golden nametag declaring him “staff”.

           Rouxls pushed himself to the front. “I sympathizeth with thee mostly fullily, thine fellow worker of high class and generallyeth most terrifying stature.”

           “… I think I’m having a stroke,” Nikolai said.

           “Hey Yooooo. I Heard Someone Was Wanting Wine (alcoholic)? I Have Some Battery Acid Right Here!” the Queen said, holding her glass cup of battery acid. It exploded in her hand. “Oops Lol (amused)”

           “… I… I give up,” Nikolai said, laying his head on a table. Several of the bitties were chirping and giving praises, trying to tell him not to give up, but the Mamba were also trying to knock the box they’d been placed in off the shelf by all ramming the side of it at once. The chaos refused to be contained any longer.

           Ralsei looked at Nikolai sympathetically, going over and patting his back, “H-Hey, it’s okay! I’m sure between the two of us and Kris we can keep… order… Oh dear.” Everyone had scattered. It seemed that only The Queen, the unconscious Berdly, and Noelle remained in the room with them.

             The Queen looked into the bitty Papython tank. “Hey Is That You Trousle?”

           Trousle looked up at this new lady with the cool glasses, nodding.

           “Sorry You Came Eleventh In The Dragon Cards The Deckening Mini-Tournament Game But Dang Getting That Much Out Of Like A Billion People (Exaggeration) Is Dang (Damn) Impressive!” The Queen said.

           Trousle’s eyes widened, how did she know that?

           “Oh Yeah And Here Is This (based on search history: Sexy Dom Bitties).” It was a small domino with Mettaton legs sticking out from it.

           Trousle was silently screaming, but being him had the perk that he didn’t have to hold in his screams! They were silent by default. So he was just screaming and completely blush-colored in the face.

           “Oh And Emo Thrash Metal (based on search history: Emo Thrash Metal).” She deposited a small broken chunk of the Thrash Machine that had thrashed her giant robot’s ass which was inexplicably wearing eyeliner and had “it’s not a phase mom!” written on it.

           Meanwhile, Susie had joined Kris in flipping off Hux, and then Liam came.

           “Tch. I don’t know what you troglodytes think you’re doing, but we’re closed. Get out,” Liam hissed, putting himself between Hux and the intruders. They were not closed, but could you really be “open” when you had accidentally planeshifted to another dimension without the majority of your staff?

           “Yeah! Fuck off!” Hux hissed, throwing a double birdy.

           “YOU GUYS WANNA GO?!” Susie yelled, foaming at the mouth and drawing her axe. Liam looked injured, but if he was going to go around picking fights, she wasn’t going to stop him!

           “Oh please,” Liam said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, smirking far too smugly. “I would obviously win.”

           “OH IT IS ON!” Susie said, surging forwards. She and Liam both turned out to be too adept at dodging for this to go much of anywhere, and Hux and Kris just spent the fight insulting each other even after Susie and Liam got so mutually carried away they left the battlefield.

           Lancer had found some new kind of paradise: a plastic hammock full of dubious, blueberry snot flavored salsa! He paid no mind to the other person using the weird spa, just jumping in and plopping into the vat of goo.

           Oozy blinked owlishly at Lancer, then started laughing, “Kid? Kid, what are you doing?”

           “I’m claiming this spa as mine, you minty fresh bundle of mouthwash.”

           “Um… This… is my bed?”

           “No it’s not! This is a hammock, not a bed!”

           “… can’t argue with that logic,” Oozy said, shrugging. He wrapped lightly around Lancer, purring. That said, he couldn’t quite resist the urge to tease, “Wow, easiest snack ever.”

           “Thanks!” Lancer chirped.

           Rouxls Kaard then skidded down the hallways without ever adjusting his Trademark Pose, “HALT WORMTH! THEE SHALSTH NOTS EAT MINE PRINCETH.”

           Oozy, being a little shit, looked Rouxls in the eye as he lightly pressed his teeth to the back of Lancer’s head and audibly said, “Nom.”

           “NOOOOO! UNHAND HIM, THINE UNCLEANETHEST OF HEATHENS!”

           “Naaaah.”

           “I’m slimy!” Lancer chirped.

           Meeeeeeanwhile, Keith was laughing maniacally in a mix of sheer disbelief and genuine amusement as he dodged kicks from a living checkers piece, a small army of Pawns at his side. Too bad they weren’t from the same game.

             Some of the Queen’s butlers helped Nikolai and Noelle clean up the storefront from the burst of chaos (and Berdly). They still weren’t sure how they got there, but y’know what, even Nikolai cannot contain this, so he lets the kids who are old enough play around the area with some supervision.

           The Mamba immediately flock to the Dojo, Liam leading the charge, to prove their superiority over all. Berdly gets his ass beat there again. There are Papython in the bakery and Kings in the café, and, well, just lamia generally everywhere.

           A lot of the younger ones flock to Seam. Every child’s dream come true: a giant plush toy that can actually talk to you and he’s kind of just a big fluffy grandpa!!!

             Eventually just Kris and Hux are left inside, locked in a battle of wills and insults.

           “Like you’d even know what it’s like to not have fucking control of shit! To always be told what to do and what to be, and if you can’t, no one gives a fuck about you!”

           Kris: Act:

           Understand.

           They understand, they understand far too well.

           …

           Kris: Act:

           Kidnap.

           The snake boy is going home with them now. He screams, but he does not get a say in this. Bye.

[leonstamatis]

i’ll have you in between

mike townsend/sebastian telephone, post-hall stars incineration 1.7k, title from “ghost” by misterwives

(also published on AO3)

Mike has to look away when Sebastian dies.

Or. Not dies, exactly. He’s already dead, has been for months. It should be a blessing that Mike got to see him again at all, even on TV, even semi-translucent and tinted blue. He was out on the field again, playing the most important game of his entire career. Of anyone’s career.

But the unmistakable sound of a rogue umpire had ruined that. The cameras turned to catch the transformation, showed a man bursting apart at the seams and turning to a writhing mass of shadow and bone and flame. Mike had seen all that before, often up close and personal.

Then the camera cut to Seb, standing on the field with a ball in his hands.

Mike has grown a lot since the early seasons, since Jaylen was incinerated just inches away from him mid-sentence. But he’s still human. He’d seen Seb staring that ump down, and he’d turned the television off.

There’s bread dough that needs attention, Mike tells himself as he walks into the kitchen. No point beating himself up about it. Besides, it’s not like he can do anything about whatever happens in Baltimore. He should focus on keeping himself sane ahead of elections.

He grabs flour from the pantry and gets to work, pounding the dough out on the countertop. It’s hard not to think of Sebastian; his busted end table is still in sight in the living room, chipped and wobbly and covered in old mail. His coat is still on the rack where he’d left it last time he visited. Mike can practically see him, sitting on the counter and knocking his heels on the lower cabinet while Mike works.

Seb, staring down a rogue ump on the field for the second time. Seb, replaced with a column of smoke and scorched grass.

Mike shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “Stupid,” he mutters to himself. “He had to go and be a hero.”

“Well, yeah. You would too, dude.”

Sebastian is right where he’s supposed to be, on the counter next to the sink. His Hall Stars jersey is singed, still lightly smoking in some places. He’s watching Mike with three wide, bright blue eyes.

He’d had brown eyes, before.

“Seb,” Mike whispers. His chest is tight; he thinks he might be hallucinating, having some kind of episode. Maybe he fell asleep on the couch. Maybe he’s dreaming.

“Hey, Mike,” Sebastian says, offering a wry smile. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

Mike rushes forward, heart pounding. He doesn’t even notice Sebastian is frowning until he reaches out to touch him, to run a hand along his cheek. Mike’s hand passes right through, disturbs the soft blue glow emanating from Sebastian’s skin but never makes contact.

“Seb, what’s – what’s happening?” Mike asks, reaching out again. It doesn’t help; once again, he fails to make contact.

Now that he’s looking closer, Mike can see the signs: Flour is dusted over the countertop, undisturbed by Sebastian’s form. His heels knock against the cabinet but make no sound.

“Long story,” Sebastian says, but his hand comes to hover over Mike’s chest too, like he wants to touch him back. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I have a lot of time.”

“How long?” Mike asks, and there’s no way any of this is real but he’ll pretend for as long as he can.

Sebastian bites his lip, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. “My guess is, end of the game. Maybe a little longer. Pretty sure it’s still the third inning right now.”

“You died,” Mike says, goes to rest his hand on Sebastian’s knee and ends up gripping the edge of the countertop instead. “Again.”

“I was incinerated,” Sebastian corrects him. He pushes his hair out of his eyes; Mike wishes he could do it for him. “Or, more accurately, thousands of peanuts belonging to me were incinerated. And now I’m here. With you. For a limited amount of time.”

“Why?”

“I can’t help them anymore,” he says. Mike isn’t sure whether he means the Hall Stars or the Pods, or even just Jessica. He doesn’t ask. “I thought maybe I could help you, though.”

Mike knows he’s staring. He doesn’t bother feeling bad about it. It’s a struggle, though, not to keep reaching out, not to lean his head forward and try to rest his forehead against Seb’s. All those little familiar things he misses are somehow still out of his reach, even with Sebastian sitting right here.

But if he’s only got a few hours, well. Maybe it’s better to act like that’s enough.

“How can you help?” Mike mutters, and Sebastian frowns but he pushes on. “You can’t exactly knead dough like this.”

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth twitches upward, very nearly a smirk. “I can supervise,” he says.

Mike closes his eyes and takes a breath, lets it out as a heavy sigh. And then he steps away and returns to the bread, abandoned in a shapeless lump on the counter. He dusts some more flour over the surface and gets to work.

“Written any new songs lately?” Sebastian asks.

Mike shakes his head. “Nothing special. The band is doing another collab with a bunch of people, they don’t need anything from me.”

“Aw, bummer,” Sebastian says, and it almost feels like a normal night together so long as Mike doesn’t look in his direction. “I was hoping you’d sing to me.”

Mike snorts. “You don’t want to hear any of the new stuff. It’s all emo and boring as hell.”

The oiled mixing bowl is on the counter near Sebastian. Mike gets as far as stretching a hand out for Sebastian to pass it over before he realizes he’ll have to get it himself. The bread is a brioche, still on the first proof; even if Sebastian were really here, there’d be no opportunity for him to snatch up bits of filling like he used to, not until tomorrow.

“What, are you writing about busy signals and voicemails?” Sebastian teases. “Memorializing the great Sebastian Telephone? Legally, you have to tell me.”

Mike hesitates, hands pausing in their work. But they’re on the clock, he supposes; might as well make the time worthwhile.

“Feels like running out of quarters at the payphone, waking in a bed where I’m all alone,” he sings, barely loud enough for Sebastian to hear. “Wish I had a third eye to show me where we went wrong.”

“Oh,” Sebastian says.

Mike shrugs. “You asked.”

Sebastian stays mostly quiet after that. Mike finds himself glancing over every few minutes just to make sure he’s still there, to make sure he’s not alone again. When they were together, the apartment had felt cramped and very nearly too small; now Mike frequently finds himself thinking it’s cavernous and hollow.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian says.

It’s not as sad as Mike thought it would be. “I’m sorry too.”

He tucks the dough into the bowl and covers it, turns to put it in the oven to prove overnight. He can see Sebastian watching him out of the corner of his eye. Mike starts rinsing off the dishes in the sink if only to distract himself from trying, impossibly, to touch him again.

“What inning do you think it is now?” Mike asks. Sebastian has migrated into the living room and is looking around sort of absently, casting everything in that watery blue light.

“You kept the end table,” he says back, which isn’t an answer.

Mike closes the dishwasher and makes his way out of the kitchen, wiping his hands dry on his jeans. “Of course I did.”

“They’re probably in the fifth or sixth inning by now,” Seb says.

He wanted to know. He asked the question. Somehow, knowing it doesn’t make Mike feel any better.

“Did you know you snore?” Mike asks. “It’s annoying as hell. Even more annoying now that I can’t fall asleep without it.”

Sebastian laughs, caught off guard. Mike misses that, too.

“I swear I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since you left,” he presses on, and he doesn’t know where the words are coming from or why but he can hardly stop now. “It sucks, Seb. I don’t know what to do. Some days I think that fucking end table is the most valuable thing I own.”

“That’s not true,” Sebastian says, and he’s smiling but his voice is shaky. He steps closer into Mike’s space, not that it actually matters. “You still have half my clothes here, you could make thousands off those after tonight.”

“Finally made a name for yourself after all this time, huh?” Mike asks, and reaches out to run a hand over Seb’s arm before he can catch himself. “All you had to do was die.”

“Twice,” Sebastian says.

“Twice,” Mike repeats.

Making a name for themselves was never the point, exactly. They got to know each other specifically because they’d never been in the spotlight. Things are a little different now; Mike’s got an entire album written in his honor, practically, and Sebastian was brought back from the Hall of Flame. Those things don’t happen to just anybody.

Mike would give anything to go back to being nobody if it meant Sebastian would be nobody with him.

Sebastian tilts his head to the side, eyes running over Mike’s face. “You look tired, Mike.” One of his hands comes up to rest against Mike’s cheek; he tries his best to lean into it. “You need to rest.”

“If I go to sleep, you’ll disappear,” Mike says, and he knows it’s neither logical nor fair.

“I’m going to disappear anyway.”

“I know.”

And that’s it, really. Mike allows Sebastian to lead him to the bedroom, lies down on top of the covers and pretends he can feel Sebastian’s arms around him. He doesn’t sleep; they both know that. But Sebastian is still and quiet the entire time, running a hand along Mike’s arm and holding him as best he can.

In an hour or two, Sebastian will push up off the bed and walk out of the room. He’ll vanish into thin air, like he was never here. A few hours after that, Mike will get up and force himself to finish the bread he started, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do.

For now, they have this. It’s not enough; Mike will pretend it is.