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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years

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Threesome with Bokuto Kōtarō and Akaashi Keiji

Alpha!Bokuto x Beta!Reader x Beta!Akaashi

Warnings: Omegaverse, double penetration, dubcon, creampies, some BokuAka action (bc those are my babies), this is long

Summary: After presenting as a Beta, your mother decided being friends with an Alpha wasn’t good for him. After moving, you befriended another Beta, Akaashi Keiji. After years of not getting over your childhood crush, you never expected to see him again as your best friend’s mate. Akaashi can’t take care of Bokuto through his entire rut, so he lets Bokuto have some fun. There’s a lot of catching up to do between you two, anyways.

— 5 years old, [Y/N]

“You need to stop hanging around that boy, [Y/N],” your mother had said to you one evening. You had looked at her confused, wondering what Kōtarō had to do with your homework. She continued, ignoring the look on your face. “He’s presented as an Alpha. You need to stop hanging around him.”

“That doesn’t matter, mommy. He’s my friend,” you had said, not quite understanding. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“[Y/N], listen to me. He doesn’t want to be with someone like you. Stop hanging out with him.” At the time, you didn’t understand what your mother was saying. You thought that she had thought your friend didn’t want you as a friend. You’d prove her wrong when you finished your homework.

You had finished the work and immediately went to yours and Kōtarō’s spot, seeing the familiar spiked up hair on the young boy. His frown was unusual, though. “Kō-chan?”

“My mom said we can’t hang out anymore,”

— present day

You woke to the alarm from your phone, the rhythmic beat of the song shooing away the traces of sleep. Your eyes fall to the calendar across your room, seeing you had to work today. With a promise of a hot bath and a treat of ramen after your shift, you are able to get out of bed and get ready to start the day.

Your work shift was simple, just taking orders and making coffee for customers, occasionally bringing treats to customers at the tables. It was normal, right down to when your friend walked in. “Keiji!”

“[Y/N],” he smiled, not having the same enthusiasm but enough to satisfy you. You had met Keiji after you moved, shortly after Kōtarō ended his friendship with you. Keiji had presented as a Beta, just like you, so yours and his mother encouraged playdates and study sessions at each other’s house, hoping a relationship would bloom. “The usual, please,”

“You sure? The season specialty is here! I know you like pumpkin,” your smile turned into a smirk, knowing you had got him when his eyes widened. The season specials were ready to serve, but nobody had switched the menus up.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the pumpkin latte for today,” he finally said, after weighing his options. You smiled and put in the order, knowing exactly how to work his buttons. “I’ll have to let my boyfriend know,”

“Oh?” That was new information. A week ago, Keiji said he was going to die single because everyone’s an idiot. Now he’s got a lover? “Do tell,”

“He’s an Alpha, but his parents don’t care. Don’t tell mom. She thinks you’re my soulmate, still,”

You guffawed at that, shaking your head at the memory. You remembered when you got older when Keiji’s mom had started giving you lessons in cooking and sewing, typical ‘wife’ things. Keiji smiled at your dramatic scene of laughing, knowing it was how you were.

“Wait till she finds out you’re mated to someone else,”

“I prefer to term courting to mate, since I’m plain and boring. He’s anything but, honestly,”

“Perfect match for you, Kei-chan,” you winked, seeing Keiji’s cheeks turn a bit pink at the inside joke. You laughed again, finishing up the last details on the latte.

“He reminds me a bit of you, actually. But without control or a filter,”

“Maybe I am your soulmate, you just don’t like me,”

“Haha, very funny,” he replied, walking off with a little wave. You wiggle your fingers, waving goodbye to him. After watching your friend leave, your shoulders sag a bit, remembering the young boy with white-and-black hair. Back then, you wouldn’t call it a crush. More of an admiration for the boy with no fears and a clear future. With more experience under your belt, you could admit it was a crush. The boy had stolen your heart and crushed it the last time you saw him.

You clean up the counter as the clock ticks, slowly telling you your shift is coming to a close. You feel like you want to cry, but you don’t know why.

The next day, your phone dings with a text message from Keiji, surprised he would shoot a text. He usually called unless he was busy in a meeting or something. Your eyes glance at the screen, trying to finish your essay for one of your classes. The message doesn’t strike you as immediately needing attention, so you ignore it, focusing on the paragraph you’re typing out.

Another ding takes your attention away from the screen completely, knowing Keiji really needed your attention.

[Keiji ❤️ - 12:17 pm]

- Can you bring some fruits to my apartment? I forgot to get some at the store. I’m busy.

[Keiji ❤️ - 12:18 pm]

- please im hungry

The last message startles you, seeing as Keiji always punctuated his texts because, well, he was like that. You quickly typed a reply and made sure to save your document before heading to your kitchen.

[Sweetcheeks😘 - 12:22 pm]

- I’ll be there asap Kei

— 5 years old, Kōtarō Bokuto

“Kōtarō, I need to talk to you,” his mom had said. He looked up at her, a paper hat on his head, a smile on his face. “You need to stop hanging out with [Y/N] so much, baby,”

“Why? Did we do something bad?” He frowned, not understanding. What did he do?

“No, baby, not this time,” she laughed, smiling down at him. Her smile was not full of love and joy, it was sad. “Her mother doesn’t want you two hanging out so much. She said they’ll be moving soon, so I don’t want you to be hurt anymore than you already will be.”

Kōtarō didn’t smile for the rest of the day. After he told his friend they couldn’t hang out anymore, his mother held him in her arms while he cried. It wasn’t fair.

— present day

Kōtarō had been sent home early, with his rut steadily approaching and his fights with Atsumu and Shūgo getting more intense. His ride home was full of anxiety, knowing Keiji couldn’t quite handle ruts very well since he was a Beta. Omegas were meant to handle Alpha ruts all the way through, but Keiji could only handle half of the rut. The last time Kōtarō’s cycle had started, Keiji had to come to where he was, huddled up in an apartment. Keiji couldn’t walk two days after the rut ended, even though he dealt with three out of seven days of the rut.

Kōtarō’s arrival to Keiji’s apartment was slow. His instincts told him to run, but he was able to restrain himself. Keiji opened the door almost immediately after the knock, wrapping his boyfriend in a hug. “I’ve missed you,”

“I’ve missed you, too, Akaashi,” Kōtarō said, indulging in the coffee and minty scent from Keiji, although there was a bit of pumpkin, too. He involuntary let out a growl.

“I had a pumpkin latte earlier,” Keiji immediately said, expecting Kōtarō’s reaction. Instincts came first the closer he got to his rut, Keiji had learned. He could feel the Alpha deflate a bit in his hold, just hugging and scenting. Keiji smiled at that, knowing he would be in for a rough week. “I made a nest. It’s not as good as an Omega’s-“

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kōtarō’s voice was clear and sharp, halting anything Keiji was saying. “You’re not an Omega. You don’t have to act like one,”

“I-I know, Bokuto-san,” Keiji stuttered out, the look in his boyfriend’s eyes startling him a bit. It was intense, but it wasn’t necessarily bad, per se. “I just-“

“I’m not here right now because of your sub-gender. I’m here for you,” Kōtarō’s voice was once again clear and sharp, going right into Keiji’s bones. He’s sure if he was an Omega, he’d be kneeling and begging. For fuck’s sake, he’d have probably entered a heat cycle.

“I know, Bokuto-san. I know,” Keiji leaned against him, reveling in his smell. He couldn’t scent Kōtarō or smell a distinct scent, but Kōtarō obviously came straight to the apartment after practice. He smelled like sweat and deodorant, a strangely pleasant combination.

Kōtarō let out a growl as he felt his rut come on, his hands moving towards Keiji’s ass. In turn, Keiji blushed and cleared his throat, backing up from Kōtarō. He smiled and held up a finger. Kōtarō grinned, straightening his posture. Keiji smiled and ran towards the bedroom, knowing his Alpha was hot on his heels.

The following day, the two lovers were still going at it. Keiji hardly had any rest, only getting his rest once Kōtarō needed to rest, even if Kōtarō claimed he passed out after their third round. A small tease and a mischievous grin had sent Keiji back to being railed by a feral Alpha, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Keiji threw his head into the pillows, drool spilling from his lips and he moaned, having his third orgasm of the day from Kōtarō’s forceful thrusts. On the other hand Kōtarō had only orgasmed once, knotting Keiji and spurring the Beta into a second orgasm almost right after the first. The thrusts didn’t cease, Kōtarō chasing his own release in his mate was the only thought in his mind.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Keiji,” he groaned out, plugging him up with another knot, his orgasm following it. Keiji’s eyes rolled back, digging his nails into Kōtarō’s biceps at the sensation. It stung and was a lot more pain than pleasure, but he couldn’t complain too much.

Kōtarō finished painting Keiji’s walls white, resting his forehead against the man underneath him and catching his breath. Keiji gave him a swift peck on the lips, assuring him he was okay. However, Keiji’s stomach growled at that moment, sending heat to his cheeks.

“I haven’t eaten today,” he realized, talking out loud. Kōtarō may have been an Alpha in a rut, but he was also an Alpha with a mate. Mates needed to be protected and cared for, so his instincts told him he needed to feed his mate. Kōtarō’s eyes immediately went wide. “Don’t move!”

“Ah— sorry! I always forget,” he laughed, adjusting their position so he could lay on his side. Keiji just shook his head, smiling. Kōtarō was a wonderful mate, truly, he just happened to be overly passionate about things he cared for.

Keiji thought to you, how you’d probably enjoy having an Alpha to take care of you. Keiji knew you often overworked yourself and forced yourself to do things, trying to be as independent as possible. He couldn’t be your mate, but he’s had a thought that ends in all sides benefitting - hopefully, at least.

Kōtarō moaned as he slipped from Keiji’s abused hole, the knot finally deflating. “I’ll get you a snack.”

“I have leftovers in the fridge. Bottom left drawer,” he mumbled back, wincing from moving too much. Kōtarō immediately nodded, jogging off to the kitchen, butt-naked. Keiji couldn’t say much. He enjoyed the view.

He winced as he rolled over to his phone, glad he put it on the charger near the Nest yesterday before he got pounded into the mattress. He opened the messages, typing out a quick message for you and sending. He hoped his plan would work out well, but he had faith his calculations were correct.

Hearing the microwave beep meant the food was ready and Keiji still hadn’t gotten a response from you. He typed out another message, hoping you’d actually read this one and put his phone on the floor, face down. Just in time, too, as Kōtarō walked into the bedroom with a freshly heated plate of food.

“Food’s ready!”

— back to you

You had gathered some fruits together, slicing and dicing them as an added flair. Sliced bananas, strawberries, diced watermelon, mangoes, and sliced avocados on slices of bread and cream cheese. You felt like an American middle-aged woman about to attend a brunch with your food choices, but Keiji liked specific fruits specific ways and you knew he only ate avocados on bread with cream cheese.

The ride to Keiji’s apartment only took five minutes, but it felt like it took an hour, your anxiety eating you up at the thought of what Keiji is doing or needs help with. You assumed he needed help with something, but you weren’t positive on what. It could just be as simple as he can’t leave home because his anxiety was too high or it could be something worse — what if his mom got in an accident? The thoughts didn’t stop, making the five minutes much, much longer.

Arriving to Keiji’s apartment, you noticed how dead it seemed outside. You saw a woman on the way up the stairs who gasped as she left her apartment, quickly locking the door and running down the stairs, almost running into you. Confused, you noticed the lights seemed to be off in the other apartments, but that wasn’t too strange. It was a Saturday, but it was midday so people were probably out.

You had a spare key for Keiji’s place, seeing as you often checked up on him; he had a spare for your place, too. Entering the apartment, it was deathly quiet, putting you on edge. There was a certain air about the room that made you feel like you were in a horror movie. As you made your way to the kitchen, you noticed the messily placed dishes in the sink, the shirt in the hallway leading to Keiji’s bedroom, and the duffel bag beside the door. You’re confused. Keiji doesn’t have a duffel bag — not since the old one ripped a couple of years ago.

You ponder whether to go into Keiji’s bedroom or not, worried someone might’ve broken in —that shirt is definitely not his. That’s when you feel a presence. At first, you freeze, wondering if Keiji’s playing a trick on you. It is October after all. You place the container of fruits on the counter and hear a growl, immediately turning around to meet golden eyes and familiar hair.

His eyes were narrowed, obviously pissed, but then his face changed. He seemed confused first, then a dawning came upon him. Next thing you know, you’re picked up and having the life squeezed out of you. “[Y/N]!”

“Kō?” Your tiny voice whispers. You can hardly believe it. Your ex-best friend and childhood crush is in your best friend’s apart— uh oh. “Uh oh,”

“What-Oh?” His voice repeats, looking at you. The Alpha of your dreams is the Alpha of Keiji’s dreams—what a day it’s been. “[Y/N]?”

“I should, um, can you let me down?” He obliged, letting you stand on your feet again. “I need to, um, go. Uh, Keiji wanted fruits so I, uh, brought them. I’m gonna go,” you turned, hoping to tears would stay in until you left. You weren’t expecting Kōtarō to cage you in, effectively trapping you. As a Beta, you didn’t immediately obey an Alpha’s command, but the look in his eyes told you to stay. You obeyed.

“Don’t go. Please,” is all he said, his eyes twinkling. You shook your head, deciding this was a bad idea. “[Y/N].”

“You don’t get to act like nothing happened, Bokuto-san. You stopped being friends with me, remember? I expected you to be breeding an Omega by now. Looks like it was just me,” you spat, feeling the anger you held in boil over. The feeling of your best friend leaving you because of your sub-gender, the feeling of betrayal, remembering how your mother sighed at you and rolled her eyes, telling you she was always right and your friend would never look your way again.

“What?” He peered down at you, no longer hunching over. You realized just how tall he had gotten. “I stopped being friends because you were leaving. You being a Beta had nothing to do with it,”

“Sure, I guess now it doesn’t. Since, you know, you’re with my new best friend. It’s okay, I get it,” you once again tried to leave, but Kōtarō wouldn’t budge. “Move, Bokuto-san.”

“No.” His voice was clear and sharp. You were sure if you were an Omega, you’d be on your knees crying. “I don’t want it to end like this. I want to make amends.” Good thing you weren’t an Omega.

“Well, I don’t care what you want. Let me go,” your own eyes narrowed at him, his face not changing. His body unmoving. You rolled your eyes, deciding to not play this game anymore. Going to duck under Kōtarō’s arm, but his body moved to pin you to the counter. “Dude!”

“You smell different.” Is all the warning you got before you felt his nose in your neck. You felt butterflies at the contact, but also cringed at the display. You then noticed a shadow in the hallway. Attempting to pry Kōtarō off you wasn’t working, so Keiji got to see his boyfriend hunched over you.

“Good, you seem to be getting along again,” he said, a gentle and lazy smile on his face. Surprisingly, Kōtarō didn’t turn around at his mate’s voice, just kept rubbing his nose against you. “I hope you can take care of him,”

“Akaashi Keiji, what the fuck,” you muttered. He didn’t seem concerned his boyfriend was currently nuzzling against you. You noticed the limp in Keiji’s walk and he had one of his hands on the wall.

“I’ve been keeping track of your cycle. You should be ovulating by now. Bokuto-san has told me about his childhood friend before and it took me a while but I figured out it was you,” Keiji kept talking, limping his way to the couch. “I’ll get the fruits later. Bokuto-san, don’t hurt her too much,”

“Hurt me?” You squeaked, eyes widening at the implication. “Keiji, I can’t—“ you started, a scream interrupting your sentence as Kōtarō picked you up and hauled you to the bedroom. He displayed his strength earlier, of course, but the fact you were were on your back in what looked similar to an Omega’s Nest within seconds of the ground leaving your feet was a display that turned you on immensely. If Kōtarō wasn’t currently attempting to strip you, he would have been with the sickly sweet scent you exuded.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he growls out, his hands deciding to rip your very nice shirt into shreds, deciding your movements to get them off were too slow. He offered the same treatment to your bra, your short scream of disbelief when it was torn. He was nice enough to pull off the pants you were wearing, along with your panties. “Ever since my first rut,” he continues, his nose buried against your thighs, his tongue licking a hot stripe against it. You whined at the contact, full on knowing he could smell your arousal. “I thought I’d never find you again.”

“Boku-“

“No. Not here. Call me your Alpha, little Beta,”

“Uh-“ you stopped, unsure of the situation. Kōtarō, regardless of your feelings, was with Keiji. That alone made you hesitant, even if Keiji literally told Kōtarō to go for it. You felt weird having to call him your Alpha anyways, since you were never subjected to those Alpha/Omega relationships. You can’t say you weren’t interested in it, often just having fun with other Betas and maybe an Alpha or two during their ruts (you vividly remember helping an attractive Alpha in your last year at Nekoma, rendering you unable to walk for the next two days). Neither of them called you by your sub-gender, nor made you call them Alpha. You obviously hesitated, taking a trip down memory lane much too long, since Kōtarō’s hand had wrapped itself around your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You didn’t think your old childhood friend would be so.. rough.

“I’m waiting, little one. Call me your Alpha,” he growled out, again. The growling was doing wonders to you, making you wetter by the second. Another growl came out, spurring you to speak.

“I- Alpha, we can’t do this. We need to talk-“

“You can try to talk, but I’m gonna fill you to the brim until my cum is seeping out of your cunt. Let’s see how well you do.” Kōtarō immediately went down to your nether regions, your folds glistening to show him just how turned on you were. Your face was hot, practically burning when his eyes locked on, unmoving from the sight. He wasn’t looking long, getting a startled scream from you as he buried his face between your legs, lapping at your juices. Your hand went to his hair, the hair as soft as you had hoped, as he continued to drink from your pussy as if it was his last drink on earth. Your other hand was bunching up a nearby shirt, one you had left at Keiji’s two days ago after a night of drinks. If you weren’t so busy rolling your eyes into your skull as your mouth hung open, moans spilling from your lips, you’d have noticed the mix of yours and Keiji’s clothes in the Nest.

Kōtarō continued to be relentless, pushing two fingers into your heat as you were clenching your thighs around his head. You were worried you’d hurt him, but he was an Alpha in every shape and form — if he wanted to stop you, he’d do it. He knows he’s in control. Adding a third finger brought you to your first orgasm of the day, feeling exhausted afterwards. Kōtarō rose from between your legs, his eyes immediately finding your glossy ones. He smiled and licked his lips. Then, wiping the slick from his lower face with his hand to get the excess that his tongue couldn’t get and then licking it off, his eyes never breaking contact.

“So sweet, I’m already addicted,” his grin got darker, his body crawling up until his hands were on both sides of your head and his lips were slotted against yours. His tongue darted between his lips, into your already open mouth, deepening the kiss. You were so in bliss from the after-orgasm high and kissing your crush, you didn’t even feel the head of Kōtarō’s cock pushing into you.

Kōtarō threw his head back, moaning at the tight fit. You mewled, it being some time since someone entered you, the feeling almost foreign. It didn’t hurt, thankfully, the wetness Kōtarō created more than enough to help him slide in. He didn’t stop, he just kept pushing in until the beginning of his knot was flush against you. Another growl erupted from Kōtarō, the only warning you got before he pulled out only to slam back in. The sudden movement had your back arching and your head against the plush pillows of the Nest. It was the green light for Kōtarō.

Your knees were pushed to your shoulders, the position momentarily uncomfortable until your mind was replaced with the burning and overwhelming sensation of Kōtarō pounding into you liked a man starved. Moans were bouncing off the walls, along with Kōtarō’s grunts, mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin as his thighs continuously met your ass. Your hands switched from fisting fabric to winding around Kōtarō’s neck as he buried his face into your neck, his panting and grunts loud in your ears. You felt the coming of another orgasm, the familiar tightening in your abdomen and the arching of your back being a few indicators. Your nails raked against Kōtarō’s back, leaving angry red streaks in their place. Another grunt from Kōtarō and you felt a painful sensation you hadn’t felt before — a knot. The added pain before the height of your pleasure sent you over the edge, mewling out Kōtarō’s name as you did.

Kōtarō had you plugged up, him spilling his seed into your hot walls. You whined at the feeling of fullness. He sighed at the feeling himself, indulging in your scent. You figured now was as good as you’re going to get to talk. “Um, Kōt-“

“Alpha.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. “Alpha, um, this is an awkward time, I suppose, but can we talk about, like, us?”

“We don’t need to, but we can,” he looked at you, moving his position so you guys were on your sides. More comfortable for each other. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Okay, um, the Alpha thing is weird, but I’ll let it slide since obviously you’re in a rut. Obviously Keiji isn’t an Omega, so he can’t take you throughout the entire rut. Um, I don’t wanna be your booty call for ruts, this whole situation is so fucking weird-!”

“You’re not the ‘booty call’, as you said. Akaashi mentioned he had a surprise for me, but I didn’t think he’d offer me you. After this, I hope he lets me court you, too. So I can be your Alpha, too.”

“Kō- Alpha, we’re no longer friends because you’re an Alpha. That’s why you broke off our friendship so long ago, isn’t that right? You deserved an Omega, which I am not, but you found Keiji and that is fine. I am not a part of this.”

“I don’t care about sub-genders. That’s why I’m with Akaashi. I stopped being friends because you were moving. It hurt a lot to end things, but I didn’t know what else to do. That was Mom’s advice, at least.”

You were confused. Your mother said it was because he cared about sub-genders, but now he’s saying it was because of the move? Your friendship ended before moving, yes, but it was almost a month before moving. You could have stayed friends, anyways. Did your mother lie to you? Did his feelings change? “My- My mother said you needed an Omega so I-“

“She was wrong. She’s the one who set you up with Akaashi, yeah? She didn’t even care what my family thought about us. That’s in the past, we can move past it.”

“All these years...” you muttered, feeling the tears from before coming back. The knowledge that your own mother forced your friendship to end made you angry, but everything was fine now. Kōtarō was your friend again. At least, you thought he was. “I don’t know if I want a relationship, though,”

“Too bad,” he grunted, his cock leaving you feeling empty. A whine was all you needed to do to have yourself pinned under Kōtarō again, his cock filling you up again. “I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, as if I’ll let you leave so easily.”

Kōtarō continued his relentless pounding into you, the constant fucking rendering your lower area numb. Eventually, your world went black after a— what was it, 6th orgasm? Kōtarō’s second knot was the only thing you remembered before you tuned out completely. The grunting, whines, moans, all of it faded into silence. While you had passed out, Kōtarō panicked, thinking he went overboard. Keiji’s words echoed in his mind: “Don’t hurt her too much.” Was this too much?

Kōtarō, stuck inside you because of his knot, called for Keiji to help him. Of course, Keiji came as fast as he could (not very fast, poor man is still recovering) to see Kōtarō, who is close to tears, above your blissed, fucked, and passed out form. He sighs, shaking his head. “Bokuto-san, I think you went too hard,”

“Akaashi...” he whined, his strong arms curling around you. Even passed out, your body reacted, curling into him as you softly moaned. “Akaashi...”

“It’s okay, she’ll be fine. Her body isn’t used to it. At least, not yet.” A moan from Kōtarō let Keiji know his knot had deflated, him pulling out of your cunt and the copious amounts of cum he filled you with spilling out. It made even Keiji aroused, seeing it seeping out of you. Kōtarō knew he was aroused at the sight and came upon a solution.

“Akaashi! Maybe we...”

Waking up was next thing you remember. You felt so, so full, like you were plugged up in both ends. As you flutter your eyes open. You expected to see your ceiling, having woken up from intense dream or something. You maybe even hoped to see Kōtarō grinning down at you, sweat dripping down his face and his chest. You did not, however, expect to see Keiji smiling down at you, gently caressing your face. “Kei?”

“Hey there, pretty baby. How are you feeling?” The nickname threw you off — Keiji never called you a nickname. He was very formal, even saying your last name until only recently. You obviously showed confusion, or maybe you hesitated, because a rumble was felt behind you, a familiar voice following.

“She’s probably feeling pretty stuffed, Akaashi. Stuffed full inside and out, I hope,” Kōtarō’s voice said. You turned your head, hissing at the pain in your neck, to see Kōtarō grinning at you, just like you hoped. However, wasn’t Keiji resting?

“I should thank you for the fruit. It was delicious and cut up so cutely and delicately. I was getting a bit jealous to hear Kōtarō having so much fun with you. I was hoping to have my own fun with you when he rested after his rut, but he was kind enough to share. Isn’t that nice? I don’t think I can get you pregnant, but I want to try. We’d have such cute babies together, you know?”

“I was hoping she’d carry my pups first, but you can pump her full next time. We have all the time in the world, after all.”

“Excuse me? Wait, wait!” You shouted, suddenly realizing the whole ‘filling you up’ speech wasn’t just an Alpha’s instincts — it was their intention to impregnate you. “I can’t have kids! I’m in school and-“

“I can provide for both of my mates, right Keiji?” Kōtarō said, his eyes holding nothing but love as he gazed at Keiji. It made your heart squeeze at the love between them. Keiji smiled and nodded, deciding at that time to roll his hips. You threw your head back and mewled, sensitive from the consecutive orgasms previously.

“I’m glad you’re still sensitive. There’s no evidence to back it up, but I heard the more orgasms a woman has, the more likely it is she’ll get pregnant. Of course, Omegas have a fertile cycle, but you’re a Beta, so I had to track your cycle for about three months. I hope it was enough.”

“Three months?! Akaashi Kei- oh!” You screamed, feeling Kōtarō move. He was filling up your back entrance, adding to the fullness. Also, it explained why you were on his chest.

“I also need to cut out your caffeine, that’s a bad habit you need to cut out anyways. No more nights of drinking while binge-eating. Your body needs to be in peak condition if it’s going to carry our offspring,”

“I can’t wait till you’re all swollen and wobbling. It’ll be so cute. And then we’ll do it again. And again. And I don’t know if I wanna stop, babe!” Kōtarō laughed, thrusting his hips up, making you jerk at the feeling.

“Maybe we can stop after five. We’ll need a bigger house, too,” Keiji continued, rolling his hips in rhythm to Kōtarō’s thrusts. You closed your eyes, one hand fisting Kōtarō’s hair while the other gripped Keiji’s shoulder, hoping to ground yourself. “You’ll look so beautiful when you’re pregnant. This is what our families want, after all. You’ll bear my children and Kōtarō also gets what he wants in the end. He gets his own offspring. This all works out,” he grunted, snapping his hips after almost pulling all the way out. “In the end, at least.”

If you could form a coherent sentence, you’d tell them to stop, but the only thing on your mind was how stuffed you were. Keiji was thrusting into your puffy, abused cunt that was overflowing with Kōtarō’s cum, rolling his hips every so often to increase pleasure. Kōtarō’s grunts were heightening your arousal and sending you hurling towards another orgasm. Your eyes rolled, your tongue sticking out as you clenched around Keiji, sending him towards an orgasm of his own. A curse and a stutter of his hips and he was spilling his own seed into you. He knew his genes wouldn’t take, not when you’d been pumped by Kōtarō multiple times. He had looked for the chances between a Beta and Alpha genes in a Beta, but he only got Omegas, which were made to take Alpha seed and breed easily. A small part of him wanted to try and overpower Kōtarō, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to compare to the amount you’ve already taken.

Kōtarō was still going, his strong, warm hands holding your knees to your chest, keeping you spread open, as he thrusted up into you. He knew Keiji had finished, the face he was sporting a familiar scene to the Alpha, so Kōtarō was chasing his own high. A high-pitched whine from you as Keiji rolled his hips again, earning a growl from Kōtarō in return. You pant as your hand leaves Keiji’s shoulder, ghosting over your sensitive clit as you attempt to close your thighs, overly sensitive from all the rounds you’ve been forced to go through. Keiji saw your hand brush over it, taking his own hand to replace yours and apply pressure onto the nub, rubbing it.

A scream was ripped from your throat, another orgasm around Keiji’s cock as Kōtarō buried himself, shoving his knot in your tight hole. You were twitching at the extra feeling of fullness, the hot spurts of cum in your ass and the oozing cum from your cunt, even if Keiji was plugging you up. A sigh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling back as he attempted to catch your breath. Kōtarō brought a hand to fondle your breast, earning another whine for him.

“I could get used to this,”

“So could I. Good thing we’ll get to see much more of it,”

You normally would have told them no, attempting to push Keiji off and out of you, but you just sighed, trying to kiss Kōtarō. He smiled and obliged, licking your lips before kissing you, enjoying the taste of you. Keiji smiled at the scene, bringing his mouth to your perky nipple from Kōtarō’s earlier fondling, biting gently on it. You mewled, shifting your legs up Keiji’s hips and he moved in deeper. Kōtarō growled, his hand rubbing the red and swollen nub between your legs. You wouldn’t normally let this continue, but you could hardly think.

If you could think properly, you might have noticed the bags of clothes you don’t remember bringing to Keiji’s. You might have seen the handcuffs nearby. You might have seen the extra lock on the bedroom door, so out of place. You normally would have been able to think properly, but the only thing you could think of was being stuffed with Keiji’s and Kōtarō’s thick cocks, filling you up to the brim.

Sequel -> The Perfect Family [tw includes dubcon/noncon, use of the word r*pe, water torture/attempted drowning, gunplay, pregnancy, blood, abuse (mentally and physically), bit of watersports]

2K notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your cat turns into a man. No, not, your cat was always a man and turned back into a man. Your actual cat turns into an actual man and neither you or your cat (man? cat-man?) have any idea why he's human now. Also, he's naked, so that’s a problem. Also, he’s kind of attractive. Yikes.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi still thinks he’s a cat; mentions of smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral (choking on a dick, but not in a sexy way), doggy, spanking, wall-fucking, unintentional??? voyeurism); non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook and you being mad horny for him, what’s new; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? you decide

an anon asked for cat hybrid Yoongi, although instead this is some voodoo witch doctor shit, whoops yes, I do reference BT21, Bob Ross, the lady-pointing-to-the-cat-accusingly meme, list goes on... and there is a cameo of 2021 Seasons Greetings Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin XD

Your lungs were being crushed.

You were bundled in your duvet, wrapped like a mint-colored burrito, on your back, head nestled comfortably in your memory foam pillow. Warm, cozy, snuggly. All things considered, a comfortable position. So comfortable that you were blessedly asleep for many hours until your lungs started getting crushed.

You cracked one eye open.

A giant tuxedo fluffball was causing this slow and painful death.

“Get off.”

You glared with slitted eyes, voice cracking from sleep. The fluffball did not move. Velvety, pointed black ears flicked back and forth. The little pink nostrils flared a bit, breathing evenly and contentedly. At least one of you was. You grunted in irritation. The minty-green eyes opened, black slits for pupils.

“I’m going to die.”

Your cat meowed in your face.

“Shut the fuck up. Get off.”

He yawned.

You narrowed your eyes and lips into lines. Stared at your insufferable, not-so-subtle tuxedo cat that was killing his owner. How long had he and his seven-kilogram ass been sitting on your tits? Too long because your sternum was already aching. You rolled over and he gave you a disgruntled meow as he tumbled off. You pulled your arms out and gave him a soft scratch behind his ears before reaching around to his white belly and patting his chest. He started purring, rolling to his side, white sock-like paws sticking up.

“Ugh, my chest hurts, Shooks. You’re a dick.”

Your cat gave zero fucks.

You were still petting him. Sigh.

“I’m getting up,” you announced to no one except your cat.

You tugged yourself out of your comfy, mint-colored duvet and winced, rubbing your breastbone. Did you buy this bedding set because it reminded you of your cat’s eye color? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In your defense, you hadn’t meant to become a crazy cat lady. You were innocently walking on the street when the tuxedo-patterned cat started following you. A large cat with big minty eyes surrounded by black fur like black bangs. White snout and jaw, pink nose, and a raspy meow. The tuxedo pattern was pretty similar to an actual suit, with a white chest and black fur over its back and limbs. White, sock-like paws, on the bigger side. Cute pink toe beans too. At the time, he was skinny and dirty, no collar around his neck, but you could tell he was long-limbed. He had a cut on his right eye, caked with blood.

“You alright, little guy?”

The cat seemed to scoff at you disapprovingly, as if to say, do I seem like a little guy to you?

“I guess you’re not a little guy. You have an owner?”

The cat’s response was headbutting your calf.

You took him back to your apartment and then it was doomed.

Why was his name Shooks? Well, actually, your cat’s name was Shooky, and it was because you tried many names to get him to respond to you – including, but not limited to, “you little shit” – and he responded to none of them except Shooky. For some reason, Shooky made him turn his black-and-white face around and look at you.

Shooky it was.

The first encounter was cute, but after you had fed him and given him a few pats, you gave him a good, hard taste of reality. Shooky was very upset about getting a bath for the first time. There had been a lot of angry meowing, although thankfully he hadn’t swiped at you very much. As soon as you got mostly undressed and sat in the bath with him, he seemed to relent. Maybe it was because you closed the glass door and he couldn’t leave.

“Do you see how dirty you are? You need a bath.”

He gave you a disapproving meow.

“Look, I even bought pet shampoo and you’ll get treats after. Come on, you.”

He was very displeased.

In any case, Shooky was now your primary companion, a large, long-limbed, fluffy tuxedo cat, following you around as you brushed your teeth and made breakfast, his new black collar jingling with a tiny silver bell. Every morning, you handed him his dry food first – he chomped down immediately – and made yourself some breakfast as he ate. Somehow your life now revolved around him, spending time looking up the best cat food (without paying an arm and a leg, you weren’t a sugar momma), making sure he was brushed (his hair got everywhere), telling everyone you needed to get home because you couldn’t miss his dinnertime (if you were a second late opening the door, Shooky would start meowing very exaggeratedly, like he was dying, what a drama queen). Was he annoying? Yes. Was he the best cuddle buddy? Also, yes. Kind of like a boyfriend, but better, because Shooky didn’t talk back.

You arranged your small dishes on the table. Tofu. Eggs. Pickled squash. Just enough for one. You sat down, holding your bowl of steamed rice.

A tuxedo furball jumped onto the table, licking his chops.

“Look here, this isn’t for you. Shoo.”

He settled onto the tabletop and stared at you as you ate.

Sigh.

Live with a cat was pretty similar to life without one.

Except for that weird habit Shooky had of sitting on your bathroom rug when you got out of the shower, scaring the shit out of you the first time. You lived alone, so you didn’t really bother closing doors, but you considered changing that. But it was just a cat. Also, he walked in here of his own volition. Not your fault if his eyes were scarred.

Shooky was a normal cat, but also a weird cat.

He slept a lot. Normal. He bit his paws sometimes. Weird. You figured maybe it was his nails, so you learned to trim them and he seemed better about it, but sometimes when he was stressed, you would notice fur missing from his little white socks. A lot of things could stress a cat. The internet taught you that. You brought him toys and played with him, but mostly he seemed to want you to sit down so he could plant himself in your lap. This make life rather difficult, so you decided it was time to invest in Netflix so you could at least use your time wisely.

This was for your cat, remember.

Yes, binging shows on Netflix was for your cat.

The weirdest thing was…

Shooky was always stressed when you invited a man into your home.

Maybe he didn’t like men. Something in his past, maybe? Could be. Come to think of it, did you even like men? That was a question for another day, but in any case, your cat always gave you this accusing stare when you brought a guy over, no matter how nice the guy was, even if the guy petted him very gently. Shooky never attacked them. He just glared at you like you had betrayed him somehow. How could that be?

What a needy drama queen.

You figured, eh, it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t trying to sabotage your chances of finding true love and all that stuff.

Who are we kidding?

You’d settle for a simple good dicking.

Well, there was that one time.

That time you were in the middle of giving a guy a blowjob. It was going great. You were naked, he was naked, he had a tattooed arm – hot as fuck – and he was very vocally enjoying your tongue technology. Hey, you didn’t have many talents, but you had that going for you. Even if a guy was mildly apprehensive about banging you, once you got your mouth on his dick, it was game over. You mentally patted yourself on the back for doing such a good job.

Positive reinforcement, right?

Annnnnnnd then…

Your cat jumped onto your back and made you choke on his dick.

“Urk!”

“Oh, fu–”

All seven kilos right between your shoulder blades. Oof.

“Are you okay?” He was half-worried, half-laughing, and Shooky was climbing up your back, pressing onto your neck, one paw on the nape, trying to murder you by dick suffocation. It took both of you to lift you off the dick – sad – and Shooky left a few scratches on your neck, as if to communicate his distaste of your infidelity. The guy was really nice about it. Actually, he found it hilarious. You scowled at Shooky and he gave you that deadpan stare that all cats seemed to have. The rest of the night was hot and heavy like you wanted and you even eventually got to complete said blowjob, which brightened your spirits.

It was a little disorienting that your cat was watching you from his cat tree the entire time.

Creep.

Honestly, you would have kept dating that guy if he didn’t move to a different city. Sigh.

Eventually, you stopped bringing men over.

One, because Shooky. Two, because worldwide pandemic.

Sigh.

The night that changed everything was ordinary.

Too ordinary.

You were passed out on the couch, halfway into season six of American Horror Story, somewhat peeved because you wanted to watch the other seasons, but geez, season five had such a poor story and hard focus on gore that it slightly turned you off. That it was a lot, even for you. Season six was better, but slow. The first four seasons had really hooked you and the idea of them all being connected? Nutty. You wanted to watch all of it.

Idea of season five? Awesome.

Lady Gaga? Yeah, why not, you’d be seduced.

Execution? Eh… could be better.

Shooky hadn’t watched any of it. He just slept in your lap.

Subtitles really helped you out here. You didn’t understand how the English-speaking audience could hear the whispering parts, but maybe that was because your English was garbage. You could read better than listen.

At the moment, you weren’t reading shit.

You were half-tucked in a fuzzy black blanket with a tuxedo cat pattern. Did you see the tuxedo cat pattern and buy it immediately? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In any case, your head was cocked at an awkward angle on the couch cushion and your mouth was open, snoring away. Attractive. You were wearing mint-colored, striped pajamas, one arm hanging off the couch and the other on Shooky’s furry butt, because you had been petting him.

Netflix was doing that annoying thing where it was asking you if you were still watching or not.

You couldn’t respond.

Shooky was awake.

Your cat was staring at your laptop on your coffee table. It was open. An HDMI cable connected it to your television. Not a clean setup, but an effective one. Again, you lived alone. Who was going to judge you? Your tuxedo cat?

Pfft.

Your cat was awake.

He got off your lap and hopped to the coffee table, peering at your laptop. Then he did what any sensible cat would do.

He walked all over your keyboard.

Circling around and around, smashing all the buttons with his cute pink toe beans, looking for a comfortable spot before settling down and planting his fluffy body on top of it. Windows closed, tabs appeared, the volume got muted, your display settings got fucked, the usual.

The unusual part was that your cat was looking at the screen.

Your internet browser was open.

A video was playing on a mysterious website.

A handsome young man with a boxy smile was wearing a sienna floral dress shirt and sunglasses, oddly paired with flared violet pants. He was standing next to another young man with an angelic face who, for some reason, was wearing a pastel floral handkerchief around on his head and a white-and-navy tracksuit with black, red, and green stripes. They were standing in some weird set with a black tablecloth covered round table and a lavender crystal ball, crystal-like beaded curtains glinting in strangely colorful lighting.

There was no volume.

Your cat tilted his head at the screen, curious.

The man with the boxy smile was speaking excitedly, gesturing to the angelic-looking man who seemed to be in awe. A retro, old school graphic popped up, flowers surrounding a blocky orange and green serif font, mildly tacky but somehow endearing in its own way.

COULD WISHES REALLY BE GRANTED?

Your cat tilted his head the other way.

Your cat didn’t know Korean.

… Right?

Well, you did mostly speak to him in Korean. Maybe he was secretly fluent. He definitely knew, don’t fucking do that, because you would witness him doing the very thing you told him not to do right after you said it. Bastard. But you couldn’t bear witness to this now. You were knocked out on the couch.

Zzz.

Boxy-smile guy placed his fingers elegantly on his forehead, mock dismay on his features, acting as if he couldn’t believe the viewer’s skepticism. Angel-looking guy placed his hands in prayer position, the text now reading, I won’t believe you unless you prove it! Boxy-smile guy flourished to the camera, showing off his brilliant pearly-white smile, mouthing words unheard. Text appeared once more.

Make a wish, any wish!

Your cat closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep.

The video turned black and disappeared into purple sparkles.

Your internet browser unexpectedly closed.

You woke up with a painful stitch in your neck and Shooky nowhere to be found.

“Fuck…”

You tried to get up, but underestimated the cramp in your back and fell onto the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!”

You blamed the pandemic for fucking up your sleep schedule. Also, getting old. Fuck getting old and being an adult. Time didn’t stop just because you didn’t go to work. Well, not true. You did go to work; your work was just different now. You were YouTube video editor, which meant you were mostly edited video game montages now instead of travel vlogs. The work was slower now. People were getting discouraged, taking breaks, because, you know.

Pandemic.

Sigh.

Anyway, not the point. You were grateful that your work was mostly internet and computer-based. Not everyone was so lucky. You were also grateful that you didn’t work in an industry that was too negatively affected by the pandemic. It had started off as a hobby, but then the creators you were helping unexpectedly blew up, needing your help more and more. You fell into it by accident, but that’s how life was. Happy little accidents. You couldn’t complain. As long as you had some income to feed your cat and you, that was enough.

Speaking of cat.

“Shooky?”

No meow.

Huh.

He normally would meow or trot over to you when called. He was weirdly affectionate like that.

You were still on the floor, on hands and knees, crick in your neck and back aching. Ah yes, age was just a number until your back pain flared up due to repeated nights of unintentionally falling asleep on the couch. Lovely. You stretched out your back with a groan and yawned, cracking your neck.

“FUCK!”

That hurt. Ugh, you really needed to stop sleeping on the sofa. You untangled yourself from your blanket and headed to the bathroom, rubbing your neck. You still didn’t see your fluffy, seven-kilogram, kind-of-an-ass tuxedo cat, but whatever. He had to be in the apartment. He couldn’t exactly leave. He was a cat. What was he going to do, grow legs and opposable thumbs?

Pfft.

You shoved your toothpaste-covered toothbrush in your mouth and began brushing your teeth. You hummed, trying to remember if you had any deadlines. Eh, they were on your Google calendar. You would check it after washing up. You spat and brushed for a few more minutes, thinking about nothing. This was nice. Sometimes it was nice to think about nothing. No major problems to address, simply a chill and routine morning.

Seemed sufficient.

You reached over to the spit cup and put some lukewarm water in it before taking your toothbrush out and sipping some water to gargle the minty suds out.

You heard a deep, raspy voice call your name.

“Hmm?”

You looked in the mirror.

Wait.

Your mouth was full of dirty toothpaste water, cheeks puffed out.

The voice called your name again, quietly.

Nervously.

Your eyes widened, staring into the mirror in shock.

A pale man was standing behind you, wearing your mint-colored duvet over his shoulders. Messy black hair to his rounded cheeks, dark brown cat-like eyes, small pink pout. His nose was a little red, as if he was cold. There was a black choker on his neck, with a silver bell. He was taller than you, and he looked very confused.

Also.

Pointed, velvety black ears on top of his head, white tufts of fur sticking out, flicking back and forth.

You spat all over your mirror in shock.

“Urk–!”

The man jerked back as you threw your head into the sink, hastily taking another cupful of water to rinse out your mouth because, WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Why was there a man in your apartment? With fucking cat ears? That moved? What kind of kinky shit was that? Were you dreaming? What the fuck?! You grabbed the hand towel from its hook and furiously wiped the dirty water off your mirror, completely convinced you were having sensory and auditory hallucinations. Did you drink last night? Accidentally buy groceries laced with LSD? Snorted three kilos of cocaine off a hooker? Who the fuck knows, but there was no fucking way that you let some fucking man in your home, because, one, pandemic and, two, Shooky–

You froze.

The pale man with black hair was still there, standing in the doorway of your bathroom, looking slightly disgusted, but also scared.

He said your name again. A question, almost like a raspy meow.

It was…

Familiar?

You violently wiped your bathroom mirror some more, nearly cracking the glass.

The man was still there, wearing your mint-colored duvet.

Slowly, slowly, you turned around to face this man, your neck cracking loudly, sending searing pain up the back of your head and reminding you that, nope, this is not a dream, and if it was, it was a very shitty dream because at least in a dream you shouldn’t actually feel pain. You looked up at this man, at his fluffy black bangs shading his dark attentive eyes and pale face, chewing on his lip, clutching your duvet around his body like a giant mint cloak.

The cat ears on his head twitched.

“Uh…”

You blinked at him, watching the ears.

“Do… I know you?”

He gave you an eerily recognizable deadpan stare. “I think you do.”

No way.

What?

No.

This wasn’t possible.

You’re drunk, high, or in purgatory.

(You did have sex before marriage.)

“S… Shooky?” you croaked.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Actually, my name is Min Yoongi.”

You blinked at him. “What? You have a name?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Relief washed over you. “What do you mean, you guess? That means you’re a human being! With a birth certificate! Thank God, I thought you were my fucking cat for some reason, haha, that’s so fucking ridiculous–!” For some reason, the idea of a random stranger being in your home was much more comfortable to you than you damn cat becoming a human being, because for a hot second, you thought… but no, no, that’s stupid. “Speaking of ridiculous, these ears are crazy dude, they look almost real–”

You reached up and yanked on one of the velvety ears.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

Oh.

Oh my God.

OhmyfuckingGodthey’reattachedtohishead.

“What the FUCK?” you bellowed and a large pale hand shot out of the duvet to clamp one of his cat ears down, shrinking away from you.

“Stop yelling, please, I have sensitive hearing,” Yoongi winced, ticking his head, as if he was trying to flatten the other ear too, but couldn’t. His other hand was holding tightly to the mint duvet.

You saw a glimpse of a pale chest.

Your eyes widened into the size of saucepans.

His hand darted back into the duvet and clamped it shut from your bulging eyes, frowning. He quickly bundled himself up and straightened, thinning his mouth into a line. A few seconds passed. You gawked at him, jaw slack. The pale man sighed heavily.

“My name is Min Yoongi. My parents gave me that name. I don’t think I have a human birth certificate because I’m not a human. I am a cat. You used to call me Shooky, but Min Yoongi is my name, so I would appreciate it if you called me by my given name.”

Your jaw went even more slack.

“Cats… have names?” you squeaked.

Yoongi made a face at you. “Of course, we do. We are not savages.”

“B… But…” You frowned, shoulders falling. “You seemed to like the name Shooky…”

Yoongi shrugged his duvet-covered shoulders. “It sounded better than all the other names you suggested.”

You puffed your cheeks, placing your hands on your hips. “What was wrong with Tata? Or Chimmy? Or Cooky?”

Yoongi gave you a disapproving glare. “Well, perhaps in a parallel universe the name Shooky is somehow important to me. In any case, it was the best suggestion.”

You narrowed your eyes, frowning. “You little shit.”

“I especially disliked that one. Seemed a bit discriminating to our size difference…” He paused, looking down at you. “At the time anyway.”

Your hands fell, looking up at your cat. Er. Min Yoongi. “So, uh… Yoongi…?”

He tilted his head, peering curiously at you under his black bangs. “Hm?”

You pointed at him, gesturing up and down. “Why are you, uh… a man?”

He looked down at the duvet covering his body. You stared at your bedding wrapped around him. Why was he wearing it anyway? In fact, all you could see was a black choker with a silver bell. The mental lightning bolt suddenly hit you. Oh. Your neck began to heat. Your ears began to heat. Your whole face began to heat. Oh. Oh? Oh! Shooky – er, Yoongi? – whatever, your cat didn’t wear clothes. He only wore a collar… which meant…

It felt like your whole body was on fire with abrupt realization.

Yoongi looked up at your mint-pajama-wrapped, now tomato self still pointing at him.

“I don’t know why I’m a man.”

One of his eyebrows raised. Then Yoongi smirked.

An open-mouthed, amused smirk.

“And yes, I’m naked. Your clothes don’t fit me. I tried.”

Your cat, er, man? Cat-man? What even... never mind, Min Yoongi was sitting on your bed, still wrapped in your mint duvet like a key lime cake roll, waiting as you rummaged around in your dresser, searching for literally any piece of clothing that might possibly fit him. The problem was, you worked from home, so you didn't exactly own a plethora of different clothing options. Your daily wardrobe consisted of slinky black leggings...

"They're stretchy?" you suggested timidly.

Yoongi had blinked at you. "I don't think so."

"It could work?"

He pursed his lips together. "I think you're forgetting something."

You gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

Yoongi gave you his deadpan stare. "I believe you are well acquainted with human male genitalia."

Oh.

Right.

He had a dick.

You turned red and robotically shoved your leggings back into their place. A sudden thought flitted across your brain and you spun back to face him, blurting it out before filtering yourself.

"Hahaha, good thing I never got you fixed, eh?"

Yoongi blinked very, very slowly. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed, amused, or wanted to murder you. In conclusion, typical cat behavior.

"I'm not fond of the idea of castration, so I suppose so."

Awkward.

Your vet had suggested it, but since he had been an indoor cat and you weren't intending on getting another, you figured you wouldn't put him under the unnecessary surgery and it would help you avoid the cost. A little irresponsible? Maybe. But you were very careful not to leave the front door open and, so far, he hasn't had the chance to get some poor lady cat knocked up.

Unfortunately…

He knew you considered permanently removing his nuts. Yikes.

Sorry, Shooks. Er, Yoongi.

In any case!

The other half of your daily wardrobe was sweatshirts, but Yoongi's shoulders were too broad for them and he was too tall. Why was he so big anyway? Well, he wasn’t exactly big, just long-limbed. You guessed he was actually on the leaner side, judging from the way the duvet wrapped around him and the brief flash of long fingers, slim forearm, and toned chest. He had been a larger cat.

Seven kilos turned into... him?

You suddenly started and yanked open your underwear drawer, shuffling through it to get to the back and pull out a neatly folded dark gray blob.

"I have this–"

"No."

The response was so forceful and dismissive that you froze, the dark gray fabric unfurling in your loose grip. It was a large men's sweatshirt, soft, charcoal, slightly acid-wash, covered with white paint stains. Eggshell white, to be exact. The exact paint color of this very bedroom, because you had worn it to repaint over that original disgusting beige color.

"Why not?" you inquired, holding it up by the shoulders. "It'll fit you, for sure. It used to be..."

Yoongi kept his completely neutral expression trained on you as you reached your revelation, his dark eyes observing every detail of your body's reaction to the memory. Your grip on the sweatshirt tightened. You felt your cheeks and ears heat, pulse roaring in your ears.

Oh.

Er, right, so…

That one time that Shooky – no, Yoongi? – jumped on your back and made you choke on a dick? Yeah, that guy. Tattoo guy. Yeah, well, before that incident, tattoo guy was the friend of a friend who offered to help you paint your apartment because he had experience working construction – “helped my dad fix-up a house to resell for a couple months,” he had said with his disgustingly cute, cheeky grin, making you nod like an idiot and your pussy throb with his endearing adorableness – and you had moved all the furniture out so you two could get it done quickly.

You had to put your cat in the bathroom.

You didn’t want him to breathe in the fumes or get paint on his luscious fur. It was for his own good.

Tattoo guy had appeared in said charcoal sweatshirt, black ripped jeans, and the most attractive thighs in the whole damn universe, just out and about, giant holes exposing tan skin and taut muscle. Your eyes widened, frozen at your front door.

Oh yeah, he had paint rollers too. You hadn’t given a shit about those in that moment.

He had noticed you staring and laughed sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wore the ugliest pants I own. It might get messy, you know?”

No, tattoo guy. No one thought your pants were ugly.

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I wore this gross t-shirt,” you said absentmindedly, referring to your four-sizes-too-large, free t-shirt that had been chucked at your head while walking past your university common area. It was a hideous chanteuse with magenta writing, a color combination that absolutely deserved to go to hell, and could not even be saved by the quirky, stylish, thrift-savvy TIkTokers of today. It was the ugliest thing you owned, so you wore it to repaint your bedroom.

Now you regretted it.

Tattoo guy looked you up and down. He smirked under his long black hair.

“Your body still looks great though.”

“… Urk?”

Didn’t really matter that you couldn’t conjure a sexy response, because, clearly, tattoo guy had made his decision leagues before arriving here. Painting a bedroom? Oh, yeah, you did that, and with way too much sexual tension. A man should not be that flirty while holding two paint rollers and speed painting your walls. What were you supposed to do? You barely knew the guy. All you managed to do was make awkward small talk to get to know him better. Then he took off his sweatshirt.

“Wait, that’s illegal.”

He had smirked at you, spinning the paint roller in his hand, white t-shirt molded to his body. “Hm?”

You were being mildly disrespected, but also you were gawking at his tattooed right arm and his blindingly beautiful forearms. Cough, no. You didn’t have a thing for attractive forearms. Wasn’t like staring at this muscular pair was making you weak at the knees or anything. Okay, maybe. But you weren’t going to say it out loud. Tattoo guy ticked his chin below you, to the floor. Your job was to paint the little nooks at the corners, ceiling, and baseboards. You spent a whole lot of your job sneaking glances at him and getting caught.

Shit.

“You missed a spot.”

You whipped your head to the floor, craning your head to look for it. A paint roller appeared beside you, pointing to a small sliver for nasty beige. He had a clear, silvery voice.

“Right here.”

You frowned at it and raised your paintbrush in warning to the offensive beige, ready to strike.

“… Noona.”

You started and fell over.

You sputtered, legs tangled, oversized shirt flipping up, trying not to drop the paintbrush and drawing a fat streak across the unpainted wall. You shook your head roughly, clutching the handle of the brush, cool draft floating up your shirt.

Tattoo guy appeared above you, grinning, his front teeth slightly too large and giving him the appearance of a rambunctious bunny.

“You alright?”

You felt your neck and ears heat. No, you were not alright. Yes, you were older, but that didn’t… that wasn’t the time… You didn’t expect it, that’s all. You tried very hard not to look at his thighs. Or his face. Or his chest. Just didn’t look at him. Also, you were pretty sure you were flashing him and pretty fucking sure you didn’t give a shit.

You coughed awkwardly. “Yup, I’m good.”

Back to copious sexual tension complemented by paint fumes.

Once the first coat was down, you two stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the plastic drop cloth, him banishing a paint roller and you a paintbrush. Challenge complete and it didn’t take you very long. Nice.

“We have to let it dry and then we can paint another coat,” he was explaining.

“It looks fine like this.”

Tattoo guy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Once it dries, it will look uneven. Trust me.”

You frowned. “Okay. How long should we wait?”

“Couple hours, at least.”

A couple hours? You frowned more. “What are we supposed to do until then?”

He didn’t reply. You turned your head to face him and tattoo guy was staring at you with a smile.

Uh oh.

He was spinning the paint roller with one hand. You felt your ears and neck heat. He switched from his left hand to his right, seamlessly. Incredibly sexy. Were the paint fumes getting to you? You gulped, awkwardly gesturing to the paintbrush.

“Let me just… put this down…”

You turned around and balanced your paintbrush in the paint tray, only to gasp as your felt something foamy roll down your back, covering you with the strong stench of paint. It stopped above the curve of your ass, unable to roll smoothly any longer.

“Hmm, can’t get past your juicy ass, noona,” he teased.

You spun around, cheeks flushed, sputtering.

No, no. You didn’t forget tattoo guy’s name. You remembered it, even now. Remembered saying it in multiple different ways, even.

“Jeon J-Jungkook!”

In surprise, streaks of paint in your hair, him smirking, dropping the paint roller on the other plastic tray and somehow not tipping it over, thank goodness, him walking up to you, taking the bottom of your paint-covered chanteuse university t-shirt, leaning down to whisper hotly against your lips.

“Ah, sorry, it seemed like you didn’t like that shirt very much,” he breathed, sending your brain into overdrive with the heat against your skin, his knuckles brushing your thighs. “You can wear my sweatshirt instead, if you like.”

Your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“J… Jungkook…”

In breathlessness, heart pounding in your chest, gaze locked with mischievous dark chocolate orbs, his teeth catching his lower lip, tiny mole underneath revealed.

“Yeah?”

Why was his voice so deep? The tiny tip of his pink tongue darted out, licking his lips enticingly.

“… Noona?”

This man was illegal.

Your hands darted down and gripped his, catching your lower lip in your teeth as well, matching his lip bite, seeing the eagerness growing in his eyes.

Someone should call the police. Or an ambulance.

You grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t want to wear anything around you.”

But not for you.

There was a very loud meow from your bathroom, but before Jungkook could ask, you yanked your shirt up and over your head. He gasped and instantly it was lips on lips, messy kisses and stumbling to the living room were your bed, dresser, nightstands, bookcase, knickknacks, everything scattered everywhere, but Jungkook and you were too busy yanking off clothes and getting frisky to give a shit.

Yikes.

You stared at Yoongi now, red from head to toe, clutching the dark gray sweatshirt. He rolled his eyes and looked away from you.

“I… washed it?” you offered weakly.

Yoongi’s dark brows raised from under his black bangs. “Mmm, you forget that I have quite keen hearing. I’m not deaf like you, human.”

The color drained from your face.

Well.

Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook got you to wear his dark gray sweatshirt, forcing you – respectfully, he called you noona, after all – to get on your hands and knees for him, then make you wait in said embarrassing position with his sweatshirt bunched around your neck – because, er, gravity – while he casually made you watch him roll the condom on, highly amused by your impatient glare, only to move away and slowly shove his dick inside your soaking wet pussy and spank your ass until you backed up into him enough times to make yourself cum on his stiff length without him moving his hips.

Respectfully, of course.

“Fuck, noona, that was so fucking hot…”

“Jungkook,” you gasped breathlessly, ass stinging in glorious pain. “F-Fuck me, please.”

He made you scream.

He fucked your hard, making the bed creak, pounding you so roughly into the mattress that your fingers curled into the mint sheets, and when you gasped that you were close, he fucking stopped, the damn sadist, causing you to slam your fists into the bed and buck back into his crotch, Jungkook chuckling at your desperation. In your haze of begging for Jungkook’s cock, you heard a judgmental meow from your bathroom, but before you could address it, Jungkook seemed to have accepted your pleading and began to thrust into you once more, making you lose your train of thought and all thoughts in general, except your dire need to orgasm.

Jungkook had made you moan for hours.

Right now, however, Yoongi’s sharp look was making you mute. You were so mortified that you swore your soul stood up and walked out of your body, too ashamed to be in Yoongi’s presence any longer.

“Mmm,” the dark-haired man mused absentmindedly, pointed ears flicking.

From spitting onto the mirror to mentioning his possible castration to remembering that you had locked Yoongi in the bathroom for hours to have mind-blowing sex with Jeon Jungkook under the guise of repainting your bedroom walls…

Too bad life doesn’t have an undo button.

You suddenly remembered Jungkook pushing you up against the bathroom door, your leg hooked around his waist, his cock plunging in and out of you, lips on your neck, and your wrists pinned to the door, rattling it as he fucked you, whispering against your skin.

“You sound so fucking sexy, make more sounds for me, I’ll fuck you as much as you want, fuck you until you can’t think, can’t move, just to hear you say my name over and over…”

“Jungkook… f-fuck, you f-feel so fucking good, o-oh, Jungkook…!”

He pulled his lips away from your neck and smirked in your face.

“Yeah… noona?”

Respectfully.

“Fuck!”

Your back arced against the bathroom door as you came, pussy throbbing and spasming, the top of your head touching the wood, gasping Jungkook’s name in ecstasy, slamming your wrists against the door, Jungkook moaning as he came inside you, cock jerking inside the condom and swelling it with his orgasm, lips crashing down on yours and you whining pathetically into his mouth as he sucked on your tongue roughly.

A quiet, disapproving meow below you.

A master yikes.

You deliberately shoved the dark gray blob back into your underwear drawer.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“Why is it in your underwear drawer, anyway?”

You slowly closed it, the wood snapping as the drawer touched the dresser.

Silence.

A crow cawed in the distance.

“You know what, let me make a trip to the convenience store…” was your hollow reply as you mechanically walked out of your bedroom, followed by a mint duvet.

“Do you know what size I would be?” came the husky, amused chuckle behind you as you pawed around your apartment for your wallet, two masks, hand sanitizer.

“I’ll just… buy a variety…”

“Or you could measure.”

You heard a rustle and you whipped your head around, only to see Yoongi’s cocked eyebrow and a slight bit of his exposed shoulders, collarbones on display, silver bell jingling. He yanked it back up, frowning at you.

“Are you a pervert?”

“N… no!”

You jerked away and hastily hooked the masks on your ears, fumbling with your sneakers before declaring, “I will be right back!” And then you threw yourself out the door.

Yoongi sighed, finally releasing his hold on the duvet.

“Ugh, so stuffy…”

His long black tail whipped about.

The door suddenly jerked back open and you plucked your keys from the side dish.

Only to see Yoongi fully naked, sleek black tail whisking around, blinking at you.

He was naked.

Really naked.

Very, one hundred percent, naked.

The mint duvet was pooled around his legs on the ground and Min Yoongi, who was formerly your cat Shooky, was a fair-skinned, long-limbed, lean-bodied, very attractive tall man, with velvety black cat ears and tail and – urk! – completely intact human male genitalia. Your neck, ears, cheeks, chest, ancestors from generations long ago, all turned red in embarrassment. Once again, you soul completely left your body in pure mortification.

“D… Don’t leave!” you blurted, snapping the door closed.

Yoongi just stood there, sighing as he heard the door lock and a body bolt down the apartment building stairs.

“You didn’t even change out of your pajamas…” he muttered, picking up the duvet.

"I can't wear these."

It was a few hours later. Thankfully, when you arrived home with your purchases, your cat... man was asleep, wrapped like a mint cake roll in your duvet. You tried not to think about his naked body on your bed, therefore ending up thinking about his naked body on your bed.

"You need to wear pants! For..."

Dark eyebrows raised.

"Decency!"

After getting home, you had spent the next thirty minutes hand-washing a black t-shirt, black boxer briefs, and loose black pants that were definitely too short but it was the only size available that could fit that waist, so you had to make do. You put the other shirts and underwear in the washing machine, but you needed to wash at least one outfit and hang it to dry. You tried to use the hottest water your hands could handle to sterilize the clothing, wincing at the blistering heat.

You didn't know if Yoongi could get coronavirus but you weren't going to risk it.

Eventually you placed everything on the drying rack and positioned your space heater on them to dry them off.

Then you passed out on the couch. You deserved it, after working so hard.

Only to be woken up by Yoongi poking your shoulder roughly and telling you he couldn't wear the underwear and pants.

He was still holding the duvet around his body and your neck was still regretting every second of sleeping on the couch. Ow. Too much physical labor. Quarantine had turned you into a formless potato. You sat up halfway, wincing. Ugh, pain. You jabbed your finger at Yoongi, who gave you a displeased narrowing of his eyes.

"Put the pants on, you animal!"

Yoongi swept around the sofa, mint duvet and all, determined glint in his dark orbs, lips pursed in annoyance. You started, cracking your neck by accident, yelping in pain as you fell back against the couch.

Yoongi planted himself on top of you nimbly.

You froze.

Partly because you were shocked, but mostly because your neck seized a bit.

His legs were on either side of you, body still wrapped up, perfectly balanced despite the sudden leap, surveying you with a disapproving and discerning eye. The silver bell on his neck jingled with his movement. You could feel his calves against your knees.

His bare calves.

"Are you dumb?"

"What?" you croaked in response.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "You always forget things."

You blinked at him, confused, neck heating. "What are you talking about?" you snapped impatiently.

"This."

Thump.

You felt something long and furry hit your leg. Your body almost jerked up in surprise, but Yoongi hissed at you, making you lurch back, somewhat stunned at how cat-like it sounded. It was definitely a warning. You were still in your pajamas, slightly thinner material than your usual clothes. It had been cold outside, but your everlasting embarrassment had kept you toasty warm.

Like it was now, because you realized your clothed outer thigh was touching his inner thigh.

His naked inner thigh.

You let out a noise between shock and confusion.

"Urk?"

The long, furry thing brushed against your legs as Yoongi watched you reach your slow realization.

"O-oh... Right. You have a tail..."

He grunted, thinning his eyes into slits. "Yes, because I am a cat."

Highly debatable at the moment, but you were too busy remembering your cat also had a human dick and nuts. Well, not also. Only had? Well. Maybe if you had a seco–

No. No, never mind that. Yeah.

Never.

Mind.

You gulped, trying to suppress the rising heat in your ears and failing. "I can sew?"

Yoongi tilted his head, nose wrinkling a bit. Then he got off you, circling around the couch. You sat up, neck still hurting, but the warmth of your embarrassment somehow helping. Yes, great, trading temporary physical pain for lifetime mental embarrassment, only for such moments to be remembered at the most inopportune times to throw you off guard.

Awesome.

You visibly cringed before standing up, seeing Yoongi's hand snake out and nab the boxer briefs, making them disappear into the duvet. You saw the fabric rustle and then the briefs reappeared, chucked at your face.

Your head snapped back at the force, arms flailing.

"Mmphf!"

"Should be about four or five centimeters. Make it quick. It's hot under here."

You yanked the underwear off your face, scowling. "I'm not your maid!"

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, black ears flicking. He was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes. What was this guy so high and mighty for? If anything, he should be grateful that you even car–

"You're been cleaning up my literal shit for a few years now, so you are practically are my maid."

... Wait a second, he's right.

You growled and hauled yourself up.

An hour later, your cat was dressed.

Cat?

Man?

Whatever.

Min Yoongi was finally wearing clothes and not your duvet and your fingers stung like a bitch.

You ended up snipping a hole and using bias tape to seal off the raw edges. You didn’t own a sewing machine, so this was the next best thing you could think of without destroying your fingers by trying to imitate zig-zag stiches, although you ended up destroying your fingers anyway because you had to sew small, delicate stitches to attach the bias tape. The area was too high traffic to not reinforce.

Sigh.

“Please tell me you know how to use the bathroom by yourself from now on.”

Yoongi had raised an eyebrow.

“Of course. I’ve watched you enough times to know how to expel human excrement.”

Right. Because he was your cat. Don’t think about it too much. You were trying to take everything one thing at a time so you didn’t overwhelm yourself. Those were future-you problems. Why does he talk like that anyway? You didn’t even know how he knew Korean. Was it because you watched too much television? Yikes.

You rubbed your forehead, dismissing the discussion. “Good talk.”

You realized you would have to cut openings for his tail for all the underwear on the drying rack but, again, that was a future-you problem. Instead, you let him change in your bedroom and went to retrieve the laptop on your coffee table. Plugged it in and turned it on.

All your settings were wack.

“The fuck?” you muttered, resetting your display, volume, brightness, sigh, nearly everything. This only happened when a certain someone stepped on the keys when you weren’t looking. You raised your voice, still looking at the screen. “Did you fuck with my computer last night?”

“No. Oh, well, I did sleep on it,” Yoongi was saying as he stepped out of your bedroom. You growled in your chest, annoyed, but setting everything back into its place before opening your Google calendar. Nothing due immediately, thank god. “Er, maybe you shouldn’t…”

You looked up.

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!

Yoongi mussed his black hair, scratching at his velvety black ear. You noticed he didn’t have a set of human ears. Well, duh. That’d be weird. He was still wearing the black choker with the little silver bell on it. The t-shirt was nicely loose on his frame, the black standing out against his fair skin. The sweatpants were a little short on the ankle, the slim fit showing off his leanness. The sleek black tail swished back and forth.

He was… handsome.

Yoongi looked apprehensive, twisting his lips to one side. “Hmm.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, when I woke up as a human, I was cold, except for…” His hand ghosted towards his crotch. He pulled it away, waving it aside. “Mmm, never mind.”

You gave him a confused look and went back to your keyboard, typing away. Yoongi winced but you were too busy replying to an email to think too much about it.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to inform you of the following.

Min Yoongi had woken up on the coffee table, fucking freezing because humans didn’t have fur, and because his nuts and dick were getting roasted by your overheating laptop keyboard.

Upon waking up, he had a mild mental breakdown as you continued snoring loudly and unceremoniously, before scurrying away to the warmest place he knew – your bed, where he claimed the duvet and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Is this real life?

He had poked at various parts of his new body, trying to figure out if this was a dream or a horrific nightmare.

As we all know.

Life is a horrific nightmare, so indeed, this was real life.

You jumped as Yoongi slumped down on the sofa next to you, sticking his head and ears into your view, blocking the computer screen.

“I’m hungry.”

You gawked at him.

“What a-are you d-doing?” you sputtered.

“I’m hungry,” he repeated. He had a bit of a raspy, almost growly voice at times, reminding you of a cat’s meow. His meow, in fact.

You scooted away, neck heating. Yoongi followed, prodding you.

“Why are you like this?” you grumbled irritably, smacking his hand. Yoongi persisted, as if you did nothing at all.

“This is how I get your attention, because you humans will ignore me if I don’t.”

“You’re a human too!”

“No, I am a cat.”

“Hello?” You grabbed his hand and jabbed at his palm, pointing to his thumb. “Cats don’t have thumbs!”

Yoongi yanked his hand out, shockingly similar to how Shooky used to pull his paw out when you were massaging his little white socks and he was over it. You noticed his cuticles looked a bit dry and torn up. Lately, Shooky’s paws had been a little chewed up too. You frowned at it, tilting your head.

Yoongi stood up and his tail whacked you in the face.

“Ow!”

“Feed me.”

You scowled, rubbing your cheek. Yoongi stared down at you, face expressionless.

Okay, your cat might be a man now, but he was still a borderline asshole, so not much had changed.

“Fine.”

You both stared at the bowl of dry cat food.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“What am I supposed to do with all this cat food then? I just brought it last week!”

“That’s your problem.”

You threw up your hands and cooked you both some lunch.

This was too much.

You know what you did when it was too much?

You took a nap.

You had dishes to clean, underwear to make tail-holes for, a cat that was now a man, an existential crisis to address, but you know what? You took a fucking nap instead. You left Yoongi with your computer and Netflix and told him to do whatever as long as none of it involved him leaving the house.

Yoongi had snorted. “What do I need to go out there for?”

“Awesome. I’m taking a nap.”

And you passed out.

Only to wake up groggily because your lungs were being crushed.

Actually no, it kind of felt like your whole torso was being crushed.

“Urk…!”

You fought with your sleepiness, somehow worse off than you had been before the nap, scrunching up your face ad blinking blearily. Head on memory foam pillow, check. Back on soft mattress, check. Black hair with sleek cat ears and pale face pressed on your chest? Check.

What, wait?

“Gah!”

You lurched and the head grunted, shoulders solidly pinning you down. He was under the mint-colored duvet. Yoongi, your cat that was now a man, was under the duvet.

UNDER THE DUVET.

“Stop yelling. Is that all you humans do? Yell?”

“Why are you – what are you doing here?” you hissed shrilly, trying to wiggle out from under him, but it was impossible. Yoongi was far too big now for you to throw him off.

“Sleeping, obviously,” he grumbled. “Or I was, until you started shouting.”

“Yes, but this is my bed,” you emphasized, realizing you could move your hands so you grabbed him by the waist, fingers grasping the black jersey fabric. You pressed inwards, hands molding to his sides.

Yoongi raised his head, squinting down at you.

You froze.

An oddly familiar gaze of accusation and uncaring. His eyes were dark brown, not the recognizable mint, but the effect was the same. Pink lips upturned, slightly annoyed.

And.

You suddenly remembered he was a man.

A man who was pressed down against you, long legs around your legs, broad chest to your chest, and shockingly attractive for someone who used to be a cat.

“I sleep in your bed all the time. What’s the difference?” Yoongi muttered.

What’s the difference?

The difference???

You’re a man!

A HOT MAN!!!

You struggled to find words, completely entranced by how close Yoongi’s face was to yours, watching his ears adjust slightly to pick up all the small sounds around him. You opened your mouth and it only made a tiny squeak. The pressure on your chest was becoming unbearable. You were so shocked that you completely forgot that you were still dying. You cleared your throat as Yoongi looked increasingly displeased.

“You… You used to be over the duvet…”

Yoongi yawned, nodding a little. “Yes, but it’s colder now. No more fur. I don’t know how you humans survive. Must be why you buy these warm things.”

Your hands were still on his waist. You pulled them away quickly and Yoongi frowned.

“Y-Yeah, but… you weigh a lot more now…” you croaked. “Can’t… breathe…”

Yoongi sighed heavily, as if this was a great disappointment. He slid off you.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true.”

He nestled close to you and you still stunned, pin-straight body.

“Guess it’ll have to be like this instead from now on.”

Like this?

From now on?

Oh. Oh no.

Yoongi’s velvety, pointed ear flicked against your cheek, a low hum resounding in his chest.

part ii

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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amesstm · 3 years

Text

Prom???

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 2K

Summary: After coming to Japan as a transfer student from America your senior year, you miss out on prom. The Nekoma volleyball team comes to cheer you up.

A/N: I come from America so this is based off of what I know about prom. I know that prom is usually an American and Canadian thing, but just imagine a big dance where people dress fancy but dance dirty on the floor lol

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

Prom was the crème de la crème of every American senior’s year. Unfortunately, being a transfer student in Japan meant that you had to travel to Japan in April to start the school year. Now, you were missing out on spending prom season with your friends.

A soft sigh unwillingly escaped your throat as you sat down on the bench in the gym. You pulled out your clipboard, ready to observe any improvements made from the boys today. Since you were spending a year in Japan, you decided that you could afford being a manager for Nekoma’s volleyball team. After some convincing from Kenma, your host family’s son, you agreed. Since you had some knowledge about volleyball from watching the Summer Olympics so much, it wasn’t too difficult fully understanding the tiny details of the game.

You were so engrossed in the multiple papers you had on each member that you didn’t realize that Kuroo, the captain, sat beside you.

“What’s wrong, Y/N-chan?” He asked, his minty breath wafting your face. You turned to look at him and was met with concerned eyes that dared you to lie to him. Kuroo always knew what was wrong. Not only was he good at reading the spikers’ movements, but he could also read you just as easily.

“Let me show you,” you replied as you reached for your phone. You unlocked it and tapped on some photos your friends sent you. They had taken the time to send pictures of prom dresses they thought were cute. Your heart ached when you remembered that you wouldn’t receive a reply until they woke up.

“Ah, it’s... prom, right?” Kuroo said before turning it into a question. You couldn’t expect him to know when most Japanese schools don’t have formal dances.

You nodded with a small pout, “Yeah, prom is very huge in America. I didn’t always want to go but going with my friends seemed really fun.”

Kuroo hummed, probably not understanding the significance of a school dance. After all, the last time he went to one was probably a festival in middle school. But the way you were pouting tugged at Kuroo’s heart.

The captain promised himself he’d focus on getting into nationals and graduate. His dreams could afford no distractions – but why was he enjoying the feeling of being sidetracked? An idea lit itself in Kuroo’s head. He knew exactly what to do.

After returning to school on Monday, you witnessed Kuroo act even more weird than usual. You sat behind him in advanced English, waiting for class to start. Obviously, the class was really easy so you could afford not preparing for now.

Then, you heard murmuring from Kuroo as he hovered over a piece of paper on his desk. Peering from the side, you grumbled that you couldn’t see what he was muttering. His broad shoulders were definitely useful on the court for blocking, but now they were blocking your view.

“Kuroo-san, what are you doing?”

Your sudden voice must’ve surprised him, because he jumped in his desk and quickly hid the paper. The whites of his eyes were as clear as day and his mouth was still agape. Something clicked in your head.

“Was that a...” You raised a finger and pulled out your phone to look up the right words. “Was that a dirty note?”

A rush of hyena laughter met your ears, causing everyone to look at you two. You looked up from your phone to see Kuroo hunched over from laughing so hard. You rolled your eyes as he forced himself to calm down, heaving all the while.

“Why? Are you curious, Y/N-chan?” He asked, with his eyebrows wiggling at you. He teased in a manner that could be interpreted in a manner that needed no translation. All you did was blink at him. He whined, “Don’t look at me like that. You look like Kenma when you do that.”

“Kenma taught me well,” you replied, sticking your tongue out. “So, what was that paper?”

“O-oh, I’m just preparing something,” Kuroo said, scratching the back of his neck. A soft pink tinged his cheeks and his eyes averted from yours.

How suspicious, but cute.

You shrugged, he’d surely tell you what it was sooner or later. Besides, the arrival of the teacher meant you couldn’t pester Kuroo for an answer now.

Soon, the school day ended with Kuroo still acting odd(er than usual). Kenma found you by your locker to begin your usual walk to the gym after school. Despite attending Nekoma for a month now, you still managed to lose yourself in the big halls. Hence, Kenma was your personal guide unless you two had different classes – aka you two never saw each other except for lunch.

Once you were finished, Kenma and you walked towards the gym. “Are you excited for practice, Kenma?”

As usual, his short answer was: “No.”

You chuckled, “One day, there’ll be a reason you’re excited for volleyball.”

“Doubt it,” he murmured in return.

A comfortable silence settled between you two. Kenma tapped away on his game and you enjoyed the last bits of sakura season. Sure, the pollen gave you sinus headaches but the photo shoot you had when you first came here was worth it.

A small trail of sakura flowers led to the entrance of the gym. You joked, “Someone must like sakura flowers.”

Kenma sneezed softly and muttered. “He’s lucky that I like him.”

You raised an eyebrow, about to ask what he meant, until Kenma opened the doors. Upon entering the gym, there was a center of sakura flowers accumulated in the middle. With a grin, Kuroo held up a sign that said: The only flower I want to take to prom is you. ♡

The bold, red letters in English were written with a shaky hand until touched up by someone more confident. Sakura flowers were carefully drawn and colored it, with patches of glitter thrown here and there.

“Awh, is this for me, Kuroo?” You asked, a smile bursting onto your face. You raised your hands to your face, shielding yourself from the cameras that were pulled out to record.

Kuroo nodded with a proud smile on his face. You approached him, unsure what to do. After all, this was the first time someone made such an effort into asking you out. “I don’t know if I did this right. I saw some videos of ‘promposals’ on YouTube, but I don’t-”

“This is perfect,” you said, quieting him by putting a finger to his lips. Then, the manager in you began to think logically about how this ‘prom’ would be pulled off. “W-wait, how are you going to do this dance?”

“Don’t worry, I got it covered,” Kuroo smiled confidently, raising a thumb at himself.

“Kenma, have you ever went shopping for anything but video games or food?” You asked, as you two drifted to a dress shop that Kenma’s mom had to recommend. Clearly, Kenma knew nothing about these types of shops until you asked him where they would be.

“Only if Kuroo drags me along to get sports gear,” he said with a shrug. His eyes were glued to a game, but he was still able to reply to you as if he gave you his absolute attention. You could never understand how he has yet to walk into a pole, either.

You shrugged, “Makes sense.”

Upon entering the shop, you two were immediately met with rows on rows of dresses. Drawn by a magnetic pull, you flew towards a section containing your favorite color. Eyes glimmering with the giddiness of a kid in a candy shop, you placed your hand on the silky material.

The best part? It had pockets.

Grinning, you asked a worker if you could try it on. Kenma mindlessly followed you to wait outside the changing rooms. The straps were a bit difficult to sort through; otherwise, it fit like a glove. You stepped out of the fitting room, and called Kenma to attention.

After he paused his game, Kenma looked up. His usual cat eyes widened slightly. “You look pretty.”

You beamed, “Should I get it then?”

Kenma nodded rigorously. Underneath his breath, too low for you to hear, he murmured, “Kuroo will like it a lot.”

The volleyball team managed to secure the gym for the event and decorated it to the fullest. You don’t know how they did it in such little time. The lights were dimmed except for some lights that you recognized from Kenma’s set up in his room. Little things here and there were objects that you remember the boys talking about in previous conversations.

Coach Nekomata smiled kindly as you entered. “You look beautiful, Y/N-san.”

“Thank you, coach,” you replied. “Thank you for doing this, too. I know it must’ve been a lot of work.”

“Oh, it wasn’t! Kuroo set it all up and I just watched,” the old man replied with a hearty laugh straight from his chest.

You blushed. Kuroo kept his promise. He said he would make it happen and it did. Speaking of which, your date had come prepared from the coach’s room. A small box was in his hands.

Unlike Kuroo’s usual, confident swagger, he seemed timid as he approached you. “I-I also saw that prom dates give this to each other.”

He opened the box, revealing a beautiful corsage that matched perfectly with your dress.

“How did you know my dress would look like this? I wanted it to be a surprise.” You pouted.

Kuroo blinked, “Kenma sent me a photo.”

You also blinked. Then you looked to the traitor pudding-head beside the rooster. “KYANMA!”

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you hid behind your hands once more. You murmured, “Ah, I was in my natural state.”

“You’re breath-taking, don’t hide yourself from me,” Kuroo whispered into your ear, hints of a smile in his voice.

Now you were definitely red and about to burst. You laughed, “You’re just saying that.”

“I don’t give away compliments for no reason.” His genuine smile melted away the insecurities that bubbled to the surface. With your facial expression softening, he took the cue to lead you to the dance floor.

The different colored lights cascaded to drape Kuroo in beautiful lighting. Red was truly his color, as his face was shaded with the hue. Something about the mood shifted as his hands made their way to your waist.

Deciding to take the lead, Kuroo swung you two back and forth. The song was slow, so he adjusted as needed to match the beat. Should you have told them that American proms were basically fancy clubs with promiscuous music? Probably; although Coach Nekomata would definitely not approve.

Oh well, I can grind on Kuroo later. Wait -

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” Kuroo chuckled as he lifted your face to look up at him.

You pouted with a glare, “I-I wasn’t looking at you like that!”

“You wish you were,” Kuroo laughed as your eyes widened.

“Why are you like this?” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“But you like me, don’t you?” He smirked as his eyes danced with mischief.

Okay Sky-Daddy, please kill me. As if Kuroo read your face, he hastily said, “Don’t worry, I like you, too.”

Your breath hitched, “But I’ll have to go back to America, Kuroo.”

“I know. Trust me, I know,” Kuroo sighed. “But in the little time that I’ve known you, I’ve already started to like you. Heck, it feels dangerous.”

“I don’t want to start something that might end on other sides of the globe,” you admitted.

Kuroo��s eyes drooped, “I know.”

“But I want to try,” you reassured. How could you possibly express yourself in a different language right now? Then, you remembered the phrase. It couldn’t be directly translated to English, but the feeling was universal. “It’s like ‘koi no yokan’.”

Kuroo grinned with a soft laugh, “Exactly. So, we’ll try dating?”

“Yes, Kuroo,” you affirmed with a smile gracing your features.

“Call me Tetsu.”

#kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo #fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu kuroo #haikyuu x reader

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amintyworld · 3 years

Text

Goodbye - (SBI Inc.) World War II AU

A/N: Hey guys! So... this is actually part of a bunch of fics I was making for some of my mutuals, and at first, I wanted to post them together, but I soon realized with my own creativity and motivation, not to mention constant burnout, it was more just wishful thinking.

This fic is a gift for my friend and mutual, Cam (@bones-sprouts)! They're an awesome person for me to rant to about AUs or other fic ideas, so if you can check out their awesome blog and give a follow if you'd like. I hope you enjoy it because I'm actually really proud of how this turned out! <3 - Minty

Edit: Forgot Taglist.

Summary: Phil works in the coal factories, his wife Kristen with the sewing machines. No matter how hard they work, there never seems to be enough money. What will happen when a World War rises on the horizon?

TW: Bomb mention, Implied death mention, injury (No blood or gore tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

Phil remembered when it was all just rumors. After all, one couldn’t help but get bored within the tedious factory jobs. Hauling coal from one place to another, scooping it into the fireplaces - minds always began to drift. Gossip was whispered with bated breath under watchful eyes. Phil had heard it all - some true, most of them, however... complete fibs. He guessed that’s why he didn’t believe it at first when there were talks of war. There were always talks of war, but after the World War a while back, Phil thought it was stupid anyone would dare try to repeat it. The leaders were smarter than that, he thought to himself.

Besides, he had other things to worry about. Wilbur needed a new winter coat for the season. He’d been going through another growth spurt over the summer and had, unfortunately, outgrew his one from last year. They’d been saving to buy a new one, and his old one was given to his younger brother, Tommy. Funnily enough, the coat was extremely big and baggy on the ten-year-old, so much so he kept tripping and falling to the floor. Kristen kept pinning it up, though it never seemed to help much. He remembered one night telling Wilbur with a chuckle he was getting too tall and Tommy was getting too small. Tommy had grumbled angrily in a way only small children could do, puffing his chest out and proclaiming himself a ‘big man’. Kristen had smiled and laughed throughout it all, and when Tommy yawned she picked him up and carried him off to bed.

Money was always a tight issue, but Phil had the wisdom never to bring it up in front of his sons. Instead, he talked about stories of adventure-seeking pirates or brave warriors in hushed tones at night when the roof began to leak and they huddled together in thin blankets during the winter. Phil’s heart always swelled when Tommy’s eyes would light up in curiosity at the stories, at another world full of hope and things that Phil could only wish to provide them. One day, he promised himself, one day he would give them everything they deserved. Everything they’d wished for upon stars or whispered to themselves at night when they thought no one was listening. One day.

Phil remembered once when Wilbur was not much older than Tommy, he’d asked him if he could work with him in the factories. They had barely been able to afford the school fee that year, and Wilbur had started school a month behind his classmates because of it. When Phil had quickly tried to dismiss the idea Wilbur’s mouth had pressed in a thin line.

‘I can do it, Dad. Let me do it. I want to help.’

Phil’s hand had absentmindedly moved to trace around the scar in his calloused palm. When he first started, the manager put him near the machines, with the task to flip the lever and run them when the ribbon was on target. He flipped the switch before realizing it wasn’t on target, and when he moved the ribbon - the machine was merciless. He’d thought about Wil doing that, the machines, hauling pounds of coal up a hill, and he realized that he’d rather die working in the factories than accept the help. The money wouldn’t be worth it, the money would never be worth his life. Never in a million years.

No matter what, he’d always protect them. That was never a question on Phil’s mind.

When the orders came there was never any doubt about what he needed to do. There was never any hesitation. They needed to be safe. They needed to survive. When he told Kristen he held back tears, but his wife knew him better than anyone, cutting him off with a small loving embrace. Emotion welled up in Phil’s throat as he returned the hug, and the two stood in their cramped dining room like that for a while, the opened letter left scattered on the stained wooden table. Phil’s gaze drifted toward the couch where the two boys lay sprawled on top of each other, covered by a single blanket, asleep. For a moment, just a moment, Phil wanted to keep them like that forever - blissfully in that perfect moment of peace. But, Phil couldn’t do anything. A war was coming.

“We’ll get through this together.” Kristen had promised him. Phil hoped she was right.

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

The train howled in the distance. Millions of families rushed to and fro on the platform, volunteers and teachers hoisted the smaller children into the train. Conductors shouted, and the entire train platform was bathed in a large gust of steam. In the middle of all the chaos stood Phil, Kristen, and their two children.

“Okay boys, let’s go through this one more time,” Phil said, getting down more on their level, and trying his best to maintain a smile. “When you get on the train, stay in your seats. Make sure not to lose your bags, and try not to cause any trouble. Listen to the volunteers, yeah?” Wilbur nodded, and Phil noticed Tommy looking around in curiosity at all those passing by. He snapped his fingers, turning the ten-year-old’s attention back on him. “Tommy?”

“Uh-huh?”

“What did I just say?”

“Uhm… don’t pull any pranks?”

“Yes, don’t cause any trouble, Tommy. This is serious. There’s a lot of people, I don’t want you to get lost okay?”

“Okay.”

Phil looked over at his oldest, clutching the suitcase in his hands tightly, a tag around his neck matching his brothers’. He’d been quiet since Phil had told them both the situation a day ago, and rushed off to help Phil get everything they needed from the list - they barely afforded getting the essentials. Money saved up for Wilbur’s new coat went to bars of soap, stockings, slippers, and handkerchiefs. Phil had given Wilbur his own, saying he’d be fine without one for the winter and they’d be able to afford another in no time. “Look out for him, alright?” While the two shared a brief moment together, Kristen was leaning down toward the child, spotting a bit of dirt on his cheek she was determined to get rid of. Tommy protested and squirmed from her grip as she smiled, holding back as laugh and keeping him still. Wilbur looked over at the two, smiling fondly.

“I will, Dad. I promise.”

Phil couldn’t help but be overcome with pride for his eldest, a small smile on his face. He grew up way too fast - where was that small boy who was always propped up on his shoulders and sang beautiful songs deep into the night, eyes shining with happiness? There were still traces of that same glimmer in Wilbur’s eyes, signs that those dreams and that hope were still alive, and to Phil that was all that mattered. He grew and became so responsible, so capable of anything and everything. At that moment, seeing him, he remembered that strong feeling of pride. Phil had every confidence in him, no matter what the future might hold.

He reached into his coat pocket for the letter, before taking in his eldest for what would be the last time for a while. His hand lightly brushed through that curly brown hair that always fell over his eyes, moving down to cup his cheek and look into those dark eyes that were so much like his mother’s - deep pools of infinite. “I hope you know how much I love you, Wilbur.”

“I do… I mean,” Wilbur stumbled, looking down at the ground. “I..I know, Dad.”

Phil nodded, pressing a small kiss to his son’s forehead. “Good.” He handed out the folded piece of paper with a name scribbled on it - Technoblade. “You’ll be staying with an old friend of mine, he knows me well and I trust him. Be on your best behavior.”

“Right,” Wilbur confirmed, looking over the name for a moment before sliding the piece of paper in his bag. “Does he... know we’re coming?”

“Well, uhm… no…?”

“No?”

“Just give him the letter, it’ll explain everything. He owes me.”

Tommy rushed over, seemingly running from Kristen who simply giggled. “Papa!” Phil’s smile widened at the exchange.

“Come here you little squirt!” Phil’s heart lit up as he scooped up the smaller child in his arms, Tommy laughing with a playful shriek as he did so. “What’s wrong, mate?”

“Mama keeps scrubbing my face, it hurts!” Tommy accused, to which Kristen rolled her eyes with a smile.

“You’ve got dirt all over your face, honey-”

The train howled once more, sending all of them to silence. One of the conductors at the train car around ten or so feet from them shouted: “All aboard! All aboard who’s coming aboard!” Phil looked between the two of them.

“Let’s get you two settled, yeah?” They passed through the crowd toward the conductor. At this point many of the parents were already gone or standing a far distance from the track itself, seeing their children off. He slowly lowered Tommy off his hip and into the step. “I’ve got two kids here for the train, they’ve got their cards and items.” Phil gently moved Wilbur in front of him as he spoke. The man, in a bit of a hurry, snatched Tommy’s tag, almost making the child lose his balance as he glanced at it. Phil heaved Tommy’s shoulder bag, packed with things, into the steps with him. “He’s good. You had another?”

“Yes, my oldest, Wilbur. Please make sure, if you can find them a seat together.” The conductor looked Wilbur over before checking his tag as well.

“Will do, but I don’t make any promises.” He nodded at the tag. “He’s a good chap too. Let’s go, we’ve got a schedule.”

Tommy hugged his father around the neck. “Love you Papa. Love you Mama.”

“Love you, Toms.” Phil smiled, as Kristen leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, making the smaller child giggle. Wilbur was already picking up his younger brother’s things and sliding the bag over his shoulder.

“Bye!” Tommy waved as he followed behind the conductor.

“Bye.” Wilbur waved behind him. “I love you.”

And… just like that, they were gone. Phil held Kristen’s hands as they watched their two sons leave in a cloud of steam, chugging away toward the countryside. Going someplace safe. Kristen began to tear up and Phil held her close in comfort. Now, it was a waiting game of fate. A waiting game for the foretold bomb. A waiting game to die.

—————————

General Writing Taglist (LMK if you want to be added/removed):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

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jediofbooksandsnacks · 4 years

Text

wounds

Each scar has a story to tell.

also on AO3

This is set after Kogami returns to Japan after Sinners of the System Case 3. Season 3 had not debuted when I wrote this, uhm, some time ago.

all my thanks to @whatsyourcolor, @sandypenguin6 and @saber-of-dreams for their beta reading skills. All mistakes are mine, and I’m not a medical professional so please tell me if I mixed anything up, yes?

The wan morning sunlight drew Shinya from restless sleep. The palm of his hand rubbed over his eyes as he blinked slowly awake, his legs shifting beneath the yellow sheets in the still bedroom. Everything around him waited, as though it had caught its breath in anticipation of something soon to happen.

He dropped his hand.

The clock said it was too fucking early for this.

Next to him, Akane slept with an unburdened face. Nothing pulled her mouth tight, nothing caught her brow and then vanished when he glanced at her. This waiting game was slowly driving him crazy, but he couldn’t push her. Not on this.

He sighed. Ran a hand through his messy hair, ran his tongue over his teeth. A deep breath had him sitting up, sheets falling to his waist. The bed squeaked as his feet met the floor and he rolled his shoulder to work out a kink as the nail marks she’d left behind twinged on his back. On the way to the bathroom, he picked up his abandoned boxer briefs.

Their night had been lustful, and he couldn’t remember when he’d tossed them aside and had buried himself in her, in her scent and her body. Time stopped when he was with her and he didn’t yet know if it was a blessing or a curse. The spigot washed soap from his hands over the low hum of water refilling the toilet. Their toothbrushes were in the holder, hers looked like she needed a new one. He spat the toothpaste out, rinsed. Decided to shave later. The cotton of his boxers was loose around his legs as he returned to the bedroom.

She’d shifted while he was in there. One foot draped off of the bed and her face was buried in a pillow, her mouth opened on a small snore. A print book was on her nightstand and a glass of water stood next to it, blurring the digital time on her clock. The bubble they created together, a place where their daily responsibilities were laid outside the door, slid through his thoughts as he lay back down next to the sleeping curve of her body.

A mole stood out against her pale skin, just beneath her left shoulder blade. Gentle fingers ran across it, trailing down the naked skin of her back. In sleep she rolled over and settled against him and the pillows, her brown hair falling across her face. It was soft as he brushed it back. The smell of chemical apples lifted from her shampoo filled his nose as he kissed her forehead.

The sharpness of her eyes, the curl of her hair tucked under her ear, the slope of her shoulder in the night; he wanted to fix this in his memory, the entirety of Akane, to recall in the long nights he knew were ahead.

In a few minutes she stirred and woke. The exhalation of her breath made goosebumps prickle his skin as her eyes blinked open to meet his. Flashes of a hundred things ran through her look, and he was struck by the fact that they could discover something new each morning ahead until they were old and gray and faced that last, final discovery; if he could only ask her. If they had that luxury. One hand touched his chest as she lifted herself and kissed his shoulder with her tired mouth. As she sat up, she gave out a jaw-cracking yawn while the sheets fell back and dim morning light caught on the smooth skin of scar tissue healed on her upper abdomen.

Evidence of the night before was in the bite mark on her shoulder, the hickey bruising her right breast.

“Be back in a minute,” she said sleepily and kissed him again before she got up to go to the bathroom. The fluid lines of her back bent as she picked up her own underwear and then closed the door behind her.

When the door clicked shut he lay back, his hand beneath his head. It was a struggle to still his mind and think of nothing.

The expectation of violence had been his life, as an enforcer and then as a guerrilla. Wars had been his purpose, and he was prepared at any moment to sacrifice himself for the good of something greater. But nothing, nothing at all, had prepared him for the way he’d died last night in her arms.

Soulmates, his destiny, the One; he hated that take. It was thoughtless. Regressive. It wholesale shattered the fire and blood and meaning each person struggled with to make a life worth sharing and replaced it with a ridiculous trick of fate. But that wanting hit on something as-of-yet unspoken between them. Something that was, for all of its ups and downs, inescapably true.

The bathroom door opened and her footsteps shuffled across the carpet. The bed did not sink quite so far as she slid into it again and curled her arms around his torso and managed to tangle her legs through his. One hand drew an absent line down his chest, and then back up, as her breath tickled his skin and her face settled flush against his neck. Cotton met his hand as it settled on her hip. Yawning again, her breath now minty fresh, she murmured, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” he said. Fingers traced up and down her back, making slow, steady progress.

She hummed. The midday deadline for his departure loomed in front of them and manifested in the ceaseless motion of her hands against the contours of his skin. Will they ever be free of the System and its demands on their attention, on their hard work, and on their sacrifices? Her fingers settled into a circle on his side, tracing from his hip to his ribcage and back again. Both of them handing in their resignations and retiring to a house in the countryside, like Saiga, almost made him mention it to her. But that hadn't ended so well for him, had it?

Absently, she kissed his chest.

Understanding their jobs and saying goodbye were two different things.

“When did you get this?” His hand skimmed across the puckered skin on her side, just beneath her ribcage. Dominators were her judge and occasional jury, but this looked like—

“I got shot while we were making an arrest.” Her hand curled in the center of his chest. “I was glad that Gino was there to pursue while Hinakawa radioed for help.”

Of course it was Gino. Gino and his steady presence, manifesting his own guardian enforcer version of Dime. For whatever else was going on, for whatever bullshit Gino was going through, Shinya knew that Gino would have been tempted to end those assholes for hurting Akane.

Gino’s one problem was that he fell into the trap of being Iago’s green-eyed monster. But Gino’s feelings towards Akane were that of an older brother looking out for little sis, and that hadn’t changed. Masaoka’s own role suited him, though Shinya was leery of saying that. Their healing relationship was still sometimes contentious.

“He’s a good friend,” she carried on, “though he’s always trying to be a warrior.” The motion of her hands on his skin made him shiver; she traced one of his scars with gentle fingers.

“You seem to attract them.” The conversation he’d had with Hanashiro many months ago resounded in his head.

Eyes bright with knowing insight sparkled in her otherwise obviously controlled and clearly quite serious face which was in absolutely no way fighting a smile. “Detective instincts.”

A more secure him would not draw her close and kiss her. A more secure him would not fight a battle with himself about any of this, hue be damned. A more secure him would say the hell with it and ask her to--

(Still.)

One of her legs came high, her warm knee brushing the hair on his thigh as they lost themselves in a long, slow kiss. When it ended, her hands fell into her habit of retracing his scars. The bullet slash on his neck, the deep cut on his chest, the mottled skin of a one on his side that had healed slowly and needed better medicine than they had available.

“I can feel that,” he said to break the silence, “but at a remove.” Her waiting eyes watched him, so many questions looming unanswered between them.

“I know.” Fingers splayed over the wound, briefly erasing the mark from their sight. Beneath the warmth of her hand, though, he felt that dead zone, that place holding his marked history. Only parts of that story had come out since he’d been back, something he felt almost a pull to tell her and bring reality back to their plastic and Hue-cleared world. Someday he’d tell her more. But not now.

He threaded his fingers through hers. Kissed them. The sorrow in her smile held grace as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Could he turn time back to that first click of the loaded gun? Does the passage of time only heal wounds, or set them in deeper? And how can you find absolution when each morning dawned on a fresh battle with your own demons?

He’d met people like that. He fought back against it every day.

Shinya buried his nose in her hair, inhaling lab-created apples once more. Fingers ran over her back as he set those thoughts aside as he murmured, “I’m not dead yet, you know.”

Contrite, she hummed. “Are my thoughts that clear?”

“I know you.”

“You do,” she sighed. “Then I’ll see you when you return.”

“Only if you make the same promise.”

Her nose pressed into his neck, her mouth gave him a light kiss beneath his jugular. One hand slid down to her hips while the other traced her back, his own body responding to having her so close. The curve of Akane’s hip sloped down beneath his hand, and on his way back up he brushed his fingers over her stomach and abdomen and between her breasts before he brought them to her jaw. Ran his knuckles along her cheek, kissed her nose.

Trust and worry warred there and something deeper. Darker. But there was nothing they could say unless they opened her own tightly closed doors.

And how could he push through them, when his own had opened barely a crack?

Her face was only inches from his own when he caught her lips in a kiss.

Notes:

#psycho pass #shinkane #my fic

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moos-cow · 4 years

Text

'Tis the Season for SMUT

Day 3 Prompt: "Who needs Santa when you have me?"

Pairing: Jonah Clemence/Reader

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Genre: SMUT

Word count: 1,630

Warning: Explicit

It was past lights out when Jonah returned from his evening patrol. Tired and cold, the Queen sauntered back to your shared room only to find it empty-- you were missing, and so was Pine. With a faint huff, he marched back down the quiet hall. There was only one place you could've gone to at this late of an hour, and it was the kitchen.

Just like he thought, you were there-- humming to a jolly Christmas tune while placing the freshly baked cookies onto the cooling rack; Pine was there too, nibbling on some sunflower seeds on the adjacent counter.

But as adorable as the scene may be, it was late and you all needed to go to bed. "Ahem,"

You turn in surprise to see Jonah standing by the threshold of the kitchen, a frown that creased his delicate features was topped off with a faint blush along his cheeks.

"Why are you up so late? I was expecting to see you in bed. And what are all these for?" the Queen scolded, rapid firing questions as his eyes were drawn to the large amount of cookies in one of the jars beside the cooling rack.

"They're for Santa, but I made more for everyone." You simply answer, still placing the cookies on the cooling rack. Jonah's brief silence prompted you to turn to face him again, finding a very bewildered look on his face.

"I assume you'd want to ask why?" you chuckle at the man's expression.

"Obviously. It's rather odd that you'd want to feed something that doesn't even exist, Y/N." Jonah steps closer and takes a seat on one of the counter stools.

"Oh don't be like that, Jonah." You pout and grab a warm cookie from the tray and bring it up to his lips. "Here, have a cookie."

With his mouth now occupied, you take the moment to explain. "See, some believed that if they leave out snacks for Santa, he'll leave a gift behind or answer your wish in return; and others just leave out snacks as thanks for his hard work--"

"You'll be bribing Santa Claus either way." he scoffs, half a cookie nestled between his index and thumb.

"buuut, there are others, like me, who just want to know if he exists here." You banter back, waving another cookie to Jonah's direction with a wide grin on your face.

"Of course he doesn't exist here!" the Queen nearly screeches, but he quickly turns to Pine with a grumpy pout, murmuring to himself, but still loud enough that you could hear every word spoken, "Why would you need Santa anyway when you have me?"

You walk around the counter to stand beside Jonah, hands cupping his flushed cheeks, you guide him close to peck kisses on his pouting lips. "Aww. I wouldn't trade you for the world or two, Jonah. How can I trade you for Santa?"

Jonah's pout and blush deepened at your kisses and words, deep golden amber eyes stare into yours as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "How do you always get away with teasing me, Y/N?"

You shrug and pull him once again into a kiss, deep and starved this time around. His hands slips down behind your thighs, and as he stands, he easily lifts you up on the empty space of the counter. You yelp into the kiss, and he breaks off with a little tug on your lip.

Lips travelling down your neck and teeth lightly grazing over your heating skin, Jonah's hands sweep over your sides and back, tugging the ties to your apron off and tossing it out of sight. His deft fingers quickly undo your ribbon and buttons, exposing your heaving chest to him.

As his mouth goes down, nipping and grazing your supple flesh, your hands go up and around his neck, tousling through his minty hair. You let out a shuddering sigh as one of his hands slide underneath your bra to cup your breast, massaging it and sending shivers down to your core; and the other, down your thigh, bringing your skirt up for his hand to skim over your bare leg.

You can feel his grin as your back arches the moment he tugs and twists on a taut nipple, calling out his name in a stifled moan.

He lets go of you for a moment to tug you further to the edge of the counter and spreads your legs wider; he eyes you like an expensive piece of art, lust-filled gaze burns the current image of you into memory-- flushed and messed up on the kitchen counter, just for him.

Desire burns deep in your belly as he brings a finger to your clothed core, skimming over your opening and the little bundle of nerves approvingly. Teasingly slow and gentle yet sending shocks of pleasure that further drowns you in your arousal.

"Jonah," you call again through ragged breathing, tugging on his jacket to be removed. You needed to touch him, to feel his warmth on your skin.

He doesn't comply, rather, he bends down and tugs your underwear off from under you. You press your knees together, suddenly remembering that you're in the kitchen, half-naked for every passing soldier and staff to see. But Jonah caresses your legs, assuring you that no one will walk on you two, and you open it again in earnest.

Jonah scoots in between your legs, drawing his tongue from the base of your slit to the top of your clit, lapping and sucking-- eating you out on the counter top.

You try to stifle your moans, bringing a fist up to cover your mouth in fear of being heard, but Jonah pulls your hand down, "Don't. I want to hear you"

Mouth on your clit, he slides a digit in, pumping and curling at a teasingly slow pace until your lewd begs fill the kitchen-- heading straight to the growing tent in the Queen's pants. "Jonah, please-"

He concedes in earnest and adds a second digit in, pumping, curling, and lapping until you're left trembling under his ministrations. Your hands found their way to his hair, gripping on it as if it were the only thing that can ground you from the upcoming high.

Your body tenses up violently with pleasure, and your walls contract around his fingers. Jonah continues his ministrations as you tip over to ride out your orgasm.

He pulls out from you and comes back up from your quivering cunt, your arousal now glistening across his mouth and chin. He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking it clean, before swiping a thumb over the wetness on his face.

You pull his hand to your mouth and suck his thumb with a pop, tasting your own arousal. You grin as you lightly bite onto his finger and run your tongue over its tip suggestively.

"You are insatiable, Y/N."

"Am I?" You chuckle and pull him close, legs languidly wrapping around his as your hand trails down to brush over the tent of his pants, palming him through his uniform. He groans in pleasure and his hips twitch instinctively.

"Take it off." You tug on his jacket once again, and this time, he removes it-- quickly undoing the buttons as you work through the belt and his pants. You pull his clothing down just enough for his length to spring free-- hard and erect, with precum beading from the tip.

You take his length in your hands, working him slowly in all the right places you knew, eliciting guttural moans from each of your touches. Jonah calls your name with a shuddering sigh, silently begging for more.

You shift forward on the counter, poising Jonah's cock to your entrance, sliding the head to spread your wetness from your pussy onto his length. As you pause in movement, Jonah pushes in-- your walls instantly tightening around him as he fully sheaths himself in you. "God, you feel so good, Y/N."

Unable to help yourself, you roll your hips forward, dragging a bated moan from your lips at the phenomenal sensation of your Queen. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into Jonah's collarbone as he holds you by the hips and grinds up deep into you-- eliciting a drawn out gasp from you with every thrust.

With your second orgasm building up, Jonah lifts up your leg to spread you out wider for him as he speeds up his thrusts until he's banging mindlessly into you. With the new angle he's brought you into, you're forced to groan out into his shoulder to muffle your sound. He just loves to hear how good he makes you feel.

"Ah, Jonah I'm close-"

"Not until I say so." Jonah grunts as he brings his dexterous fingers back to rub against your sensitive clit. He slows down his pace for you to feel the full drag of his cock and the impact of his deep thrusts, again and again until your legs quiver from the overstimulation.

"Mmm, Jonah please-" you choke out, but immediately gets cut off by a sharp gasp as Jonah speeds up his ministrations to an almost brutal pace, quickly bringing you to the edge once more.

With a twitch, your body seizes up once more as your orgasm crashes over you. Your cries were muffled just in time by Jonah's lips crashing onto yours as he dutifully fucks you through your high, stuttering in his pace as he cums just a few moments after.

The air is hot between you two. Cookies, now long forgotten to a passionate love making session on the kitchen counter.

Someone has to clean this up.

#ikemen revolution #ikemen kakumei #ikerev #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen revolution fanfiction #'tis the season for smut #jonah clemence #ikerev jonah

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unmanageable-day · 4 years

Text

Come to me

masterlist

previous chapter: 21

PART 21.5 - next

Summary. After what happened in a relationship in the past, you found it difficult to trust someone with the gentleman image. ‘Gentleman’ seems like merely a concept and it was probably impossible for someone to be a genuine one. Now that you’re stuck with the number one gentleman at campus for a group project, how would you cope with the one and only Joshua Hong?

Genre. College!au, non-idol!au / friends to lover

Pairing. Joshua x y/n x S.Coups

WC / warnings. 2k / soft makeout sesh (can you call it that when no tongues involved??? or maybe its more like pecks session)

TAGLIST. @samemagicpoint @unravellyn @nonuuu @seventeeneration @skylions-den @wooziverse @infinitemoods — [ send ask or dm if you’re interested to be added in the list! ]

You found yourself being confused, sitting on a couch in a corner of a barbershop, flipping page after page of an outdated magazine mindlessly. Sometimes you stole a glance towards a man whose hair was getting cut and dyed. The man who dragged you there and made you accompany him. The reflection of him in the mirror threw a big smile at you.

"How do I look?" he asked as soon as he and you walked out of the barbershop.

"Just looking like S.Coups. What do you expect me to say?" You chuckled.

Grinning, he casually put his arm around your barely clothed shoulder. The direct contact to your skin simply got you flustered. This was the day you regret ever purchasing a skimpy top with spaghetti strap.

Early in the morning, a friend of yours, Somi, came crashing at your place, forcing you to go out with her. She even dug your closet to find an outfit that was not your everyday wear. And that was how the long forgotten floral sleeveless top was found. You cursed why it was found in peak summer season like this. It just made Somi so eager encouraging you to wear it. She even prepared a pair of jeans, mules, and a handbag that would match the top, according to her. And you can't say no when she looked at you with her pleading eyes.

"We will look awesome, Unnie. You see, the color of our top mixes so well together. We have to take pictures. I promise this cafe has the best ambience. You should update your insta, your feed is so dull because you shitpost too much on Twitter," she excitedly rambled.

You never wanted to go home so bad after Somi dragged you here and there until noon. The hot weather quite bothered you, especially that you felt more exposed than usual. Usually you would have your outer whenever you wore sleeveless shirt. Today was an exception because Somi hurried you and you couldn't grab an outer from the closet.

When Somi accidentally spilled some coffee and you may or may not have purposely wiped your hand that got chocolate sauce on your shirt, you thought it was a good chance to buy new clothes. The baby sister rushed you to the closest store, but you were wrong to think you could choose yourself. Because she immediately took 2-3 pieces of another sleeveless top even with spaghetti strap, pushed you to the changing room, and when you were done, she went straight to the cashier and paid the bill.

Wandering around the store before catching up on Somi, you intended to buy some outerwear. But your hands stopped as you were bewildered when someone called you. And it turned out to be Seungcheol shopping by himself. That was how Somi ditched you with a lame excuse because she got overly excited to see you with a fine looking guy.

"Afternoon snack? Boba milk tea?" Seungcheol offered with his gummy smile. He surely appreciated you waiting for him for more than 60 minutes at the barbershop.

These days you found yourself hanging out with him a lot. You surely remembered how flirtatious he was the first time you met him. He was definitely one person you wanted to avoid, or at least to not hang around with that much. Because, one, he was friends with Joshua Hong, and two, you can't stand him flirting and being cringey all the time. The weird thing was now you can't say no to him. This man strangely found his way to you and somewhat won a small part of your heart.

"Or maybe not?" you said as you looked up in the sky. The sunny day had turned into cloudy as the sky got darker. It looked like it was going to rain soon. The little handbag you carried cannot even fit a little umbrella you always brought anywhere anytime. Now you were panicking, already thinking to call a taxi to go home before it rained.

"I think it's wiser to go to my place since it's closer from here. I'll take you home when the rain stops."

"Your place?" you quietly asked, looking concerned. You remembered the three of them lived together. Joshua told you in the first weeks of your internship, about Jeonghan being sulky everyday because of how loud he was when the blender was working to made smoothies aka to provide your breakfast.

You were this close to running away with a taxi as little rain drops started falling and you could feel the cool breeze against your bare skin. Unfortunately not a single vacant taxi was sighted.

"Um.. nobody’s home. Jisoo and Jeonghan are going out," he explained, as if he could read your mind. The longer you took your time contemplating, the grey shade in the sky was getting more visible. Little rain drops started getting bigger and you were running out of choices. "Come on, we don't want you to get wet, do we?" Seungcheol gently took your hand and lead the way.

Again, you can't say no and you cursed yourself for being very indecisive. All you hoped now was this wasn't a bad idea, although you already had a not so good feeling about this.

"Phew, just in time," he remarked as the two of you reached the apartment lobby when the rain suddenly fell heavily. "Let's get upstairs, dry ourselves, and I'll lend you my jacket."

You shook, reassuring him that you were okay. "I'm fine," you said, wiping off the wet trace on your arms. But as soon as you entered the living room, you couldn't deny the chilly temperature that suddenly crept up your body.

"Towel?" he offered, handing over a pink colored fabric.

You muttered thanks as you continued wiping your arms and shoulders.

"Here, wear my cardigan." He tossed a black knit-wear before heading to the pantry to make some hot drink. "Don't just stand there. Go sit on the couch, turn on the TV or something," he chuckled.

You nervously made your way to the couch and sat up straight. Soon, Seungcheol joined you with two cups of hot peppermint tea. Seeing his cardigan crumpled in your hands, he took it and helped to put it around your shoulder. "Feel better?" he asked warmly as he adjusted his seat beside you. Nodding your head, you smiled back at him.

"The rain doesn't look like it will stop soon. Let's just wait a little bit longer, okay?"

It wasn't like you have other better choices anyway. Going home by bus or taxi and get drenched in the middle? No way.

"Is there anything you want to watch?"

"Not really. Just don't trick me to watch horror movies like Joshua did."

"He did that?" He chuckled. "That was messed up, I bet."

A nervous smile was curved on your lips. You were surprised yourself that you still remembered that one time watching movie with Joshua. That was something nobody ever knew. It just slipped off your mouth when Seungcheol asked.

His choice finally was a classic, award-winning movie. Seungcheol can't keep his mouth shut throughout the movie, commenting every scene or comparing with other movies. He subtly scooted closer, and the pointing gesture which he often does eventually decreased. His loud talking also started to become quieter.

"Why?" you spoke, noticing the sudden silent.

"Nothing." His lips pursed into little grin, his eyes finding yours. "Lean on me?"

At first you were hesitant. But there was something about him that always managed to mesmerize you. His opened arms, the warm smile on his face, and his soft gaze hypnotized you. The next thing you knew was you already resting your head against the crook of his neck, his arm looping around your shoulder, his hand fixing the oversized cardigan on you. You can smell his scent. Although the perfume did not have a strong aroma, it was quite fit to your liking.

The movie was reaching the end and post credit scene. Yet none of you did anything but enjoyed the silence with each other's company. You could feel Seungcheol's hand rubbing your upper arm gently. He clearly didn't have intention to release you from his embrace. In fact, he had never wanted to be as selfish as now.

"I wish the rain stops soon," you mumbled. You tried not to squirm too much. But not fidgeting at all didn't help to deal with the current situation. You started to wonder why you just threw yourself at him.

"I wish we can stay like this," he mumbled, almost whispering.

You pretended not to hear that. Suddenly you felt his lips slightly grazed against your forehead. You flinched but you couldn't go anywhere. His arm was still around your shoulder, securing you in place.

You knew this wasn't right.

"Um, we shouldn't.." you mumbled as you squirmed trying to sit up, hoping he would loose his firm grip but to no avail.

By the time you spoke breaking the silence, Seungcheol had readjusted his position, twisting his upper body so you were trapped between his arms. The back of your head stuck against the sofa, which you wished there was no headrest there so you could have escaped from this situation. Without warning but very slowly, he rested his forehead against yours, one of his hand creeping towards your hand that had your fingers curled into a fist. His thumb gave little rubs on the back of your palm, suggesting to be more at ease and also to open up so he could hold your hand properly. You could feel his minty breath as he leaned in closer and your noses brushed each other. In a matter of a second, his lips was pressed against yours then he slightly pulled away.

"I know I shouldn't.." he slowly whispered before going for another peck. Or two, which made you unconsciously gave in and shut your eyes as he sneaked his hand to hold the side of your exposed neck. And there goes another kiss. "But your lips.." Kiss. "So soft." Kiss. "And sweet." Kiss. "I think I could taste something like strawberry." Kiss.

You had no idea what had gotten into you accepting his kisses like this. You probably forgot how to breathe. If it wasn’t for the way he always took quick pauses between his kisses, you could have suffocated yourself. Not to mention, the way he gently rubbed the back of your hand, which somehow it worked to comfort you (and you probably will hate yourself for this).

What were you even thinking? Did he lead you on? Did you lead him on?

Slowly releasing your hand, his arm then made its way to wrap around your waist before finally planting the another kiss, a bit longer than the previous ones.

As he pulled away, you slowly opened your eyes and met his. The first thing you recognized was his long lashes and the thick brows. That was the first time you were struck by how pretty he was. Still holding you close, his hand traveled to tuck some hair strands behind your ear.

"Seungcheol, I..."

"Keep it." He cut your words with another peck.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Utterly shocked by the presence of someone else, you turned your head abruptly only to find certain someone to be as surprised as you were. "Jisoo.." you mumbled his name, your eyes quivering looking at him with the rest of the guys who dropped their jaws. You hurriedly released yourself from Seungcheol's arms and stood up. Yet you didn't know what to do. Should you explain what just happened? But then what is there to explain? And why should you?

Joshua didn't speak a word after that. He just locked his fiery eyes at Seungcheol, probably waiting for him to say something. Jeonghan and the other guys were nervous at the tense situation that they wouldn't dare to open their mouths.

You took a glimpse at Seungcheol. He was just standing beside you, one hand on his waist and the other one brushing his fringe. He looked like he did nothing. As if nothing just happened.

Jeonghan initiated to break the silence. "Y/n, it's still raining outside. Mingyu will take you home. Is that alright?" he asked you softly, approaching you then very subtly and gently pulling you away from Seungcheol.

You hesitantly nodded, not sure if you could just leave without saying anything. But what would you say at this point? Once again, you stole a glimpse both at Seungcheol and Joshua and weakly said, "Okay." before Jeonghan, Soonyoung and Mingyu escorted you out.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen texts #seventeen au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fics #seventeen sm au #seventeen drabbles #seventeen joshua #seventeen scoups #joshua imagines #scoups imagines #joshua x reader #scoups x reader #svt imagines #post by yourblinkies #kpop fanfiction

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bgonemydear · 3 years

Text

tagged by @ambpersand! How many works do you have on AO3?

11, which I had forgot that I wrote that many?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

44,316

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Two so far that are published - Arrow and The 100. Currently working on a dramione fic that may or may not ever see the light of day.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the native hue of resolution, the pale cast of thought (the 100, monty/miller)

Jupiter (the 100, bellarke)

it takes a village (the 100, bellarke)

Something to Tweet About (the 100, bravenlarke)

in case I stand one little chance (the 100, clarke/raven)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

It’s honestly been so long since I’ve written fic that I cannot remember? I think I did? Every once in a while I’ll get a comment on an old fic and feel bad that I don’t respond to it but I also just tend to avoid looking at any fics I’ve published in the past.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmm... I don’t really do angst endings I don’t think? I would probably have to go with my bravenlarke pacific rim fusion I guess.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Pretty much only the bravenlarke pacific rim fusion! I don’t think I would be interested in writing crossovers, honestly.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope, I pretty much fly under the radar which is nice, tbh.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Not explicitly, and honestly I’ve only written very brief bits in the past. I may or may not be expanding on that in the future though, who knows?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, again see: flying under the radar.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

See above answer.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I think I would have to go with dramione at this point. It’s been in my life for at least 15 years and I tend to just come back to it again and again.

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*looks at google doc for touch starved!draco fic currently at 15k* *looks at calendar and sees two weeks till grad school starts back up*

Who’s to say?

What are your writing strengths?

I would say plotting out a full fic and dialogue are my strengths. Beyond that I’m GREAT at editing. The plotting and one off dialogues are part of why I enjoy being a beta when I get the chance to work with another writer.

What are your writing weaknesses?

The actual follow through of writing the fic tbh. I’m always nervous that my writing can be too concise for fic and that it doesn’t convey the emotion I want it to. I like the plot points that guide a fic, but filling in between those is a struggle.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Haven’t done it! Probably too nervous to try, tbh.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Arrow, which was my only fic for it, and I think (if I remember correctly) it was a Sara/Felicity/Oliver fic entirely written out of spite for them killing Sara off in the 3rd season.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

My minty fic, the native hue of resolution, the pale cast of thought. It was partly inspired by a WTNV quote ("We do not have answers. I am not certain that we even have questions.") and partly inspired by a tumblr post that headcanoned Miller to be a Shakespeare nerd. It gripped my brain and would not leave until I wrote it, and it contains one of my favorite lines I’ve written as well: “Apparently you could take the people out of the failing Ark, but you couldn’t take the failings of the Ark out of the people.”

I’ll tag @ponyregrets, @peacefulboo, @hawthornewhisperer, and @itsactuallycorrine!

#tag games

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

Dance With Me

Summary: You share a magical dance with the handsome instructor—Shouto Todoroki.

Song: “Tiempo De Vals” by Chayanne

Author’s Note: Anyone who’s been to a quinceañera party or had a quinceañera party themselves knows this song. It’s a staple in every vals dance (Spanish for waltz). I love listening to this song, and lo and behold: I got an idea for this story that was itching to be written.

Highly recommend listening to the song while reading the story! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.4K+

Tip Jar

“Please wait here,” Sara, the petite receptionist, gestures toward the empty dance studio. You bow and step inside, glancing around the room. “The instructor is running late, but he’ll arrive soon.”

“Oh, no worries, but thank you!”

Sara closes the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You place your belongings beside the main entrance and change into your dancing shoes. The heels tap softly against the hardwood floor to shake away your nerves. It’s been a while since you’ve waltz dance, and you miss it a lot. Something about being swept off your feet to the rhythm of a beautiful song makes you feel at peace. With your life at a decent place, you decide to splurge a little on yourself by retaking waltz dance lessons.

You hear the door open.

“Hello there,” the stranger’s deep voice bounces along the walls. You nearly sprain your ankle at the sight of him. He strides across the room, holding out a large hand for a shake. His grip is firm yet gentle. “My name is Shouto Todoroki, your dance instructor. I apologize for being late.”

“I-I didn’t even notice,” you stammer, trying to look anywhere but his gorgeous face. You don’t feel worthy enough to see it. His soft chuckle brings your attention to him, and you mentally let out a curse. All your concentration flies out the window when you gaze at his eyes. One is the color of an exquisite gray gemstone, while the other is turquoise like the famous Maldivian waters.

Those marvelous eyes take your breath away.

Shouto lets go to plug his phone into the studio’s speakers. You spin around, whispering an incoherent ‘thank you’ at the universe; it’s your lucky day, indeed. Another dose of giddiness flows from your head to your toes. One hand cools down your face as you get yourself together. You turn around all poised and collected, yet inside you’re a trembling mess. Fake it till you make as they say.

You politely smile as Shouto returns.

“Shall we begin?”

“S-sure!”

“Excellent.”

Shouto presses the small remote, bringing the speakers to life. The trumpets sound with a mighty roar. They sound like a grand royal entrance fanfare fit for a king. Shouto’s hands slide into position. His hold feels natural and secure, almost as though you are meant to be with him. You discreetly swallow a small gulp—he’s so close to you.

The excitement builds inside you as Shouto’s piercing eyes capture your soul. Both of you are ready for the performance of a century. You rest a gentle hand on his arm while he gives an encouraging squeeze in return. An amused smile appears on his face and asks, “Are you nervous?”

“Just a tad,” you meekly glance between his hand and face. Your fingers feel the lean muscle hiding underneath the navy-blue dress shirt. An inaudible choke stops at your throat. You are definitely going to screw up. “I thought we were going to start with the basics first. I’m a bit rusty with my waltz dancing skills.”

“You’ll be fine,” Shouto leans closer to reach your ear, catching you off guard. You become still as a statue. His minty breath blows along your heated skin that rivals the sun’s surface. The song gradually hums in the background. A shiver runs down your spine when he whispers, “Just follow my lead.”

And so you do.

Shouto begins with simple steps, swaying back and forth to the beat of the song. You try peeking down at your feet, but can’t. His eyes won’t let you; they hold your attention. You gladly oblige and get lost in his gaze that resembles a soothing ocean. Your entire body relaxes in seconds, opening the floodgates for your waltz movements to naturally shine through.

Now the real fun begins. Shouto picks up the pace, whisking you across the dance floor. He hugs you close so you don’t slip from his grasp. The fresh scent of his cologne—a light tone of mint mixed with vanilla—tickles your nose. You inhale it without hesitation. Shouto spins you around under his arm before resting his warm hand on your back again.

The song’s tempo plays faster. Shouto’s feet take deliberate steps, and you feel as though you’re bouncing on clouds with him. He makes a three-quarter turn, the circular motion fluid until the very end. One, two, three, one, two, three, and twirl. One, two, three, one, two, three, and another spin once again. Your feet magically feel light to the touch.

Dancing with Shouto is like flying in the air. His movements are elegant and strong, yet effortless at the same time. You never let go nor want the dance to end. If he could, Shouto would dance with you high above the clouds or down below the deep blue sea. As long as you are in his arms, he will dance with you forever.

A small grin slips on Shouto’s lips. He admires the beautiful spark glimmering in your eyes. The violins proudly sing their praises in the background. One, two, three, one, two, three, and you twirl once more. Shouto then dips you slowly, his arms holding you with ease as you go down. You don’t see a hint of a struggle on his face. He brings you back up and sways to the calm tempo until there’s a dramatic pause. The anticipation builds as you gaze into Shouto’s passionate eyes and then…

The song bursts with one last hurrah.

Shouto moves smoothly, yet quickly across the room. His speed is on par with the music’s energetic rhythm. You follow his lead, twirling nonstop like a pair of eagles gracefully spiraling downward from the sky. Oh, how you feel so wild and free.

The music fades away now that the dream is over. Shouto comes to a soft stop, and both your chests are heaving. Neither of you let go still. His warm embrace is quite welcoming, and you want to cherish it forever.

“Thank you for dancing with me,” Shouto murmurs, breaking the silence. He brings your hand to his lips to plant a ghostly kiss. His eyes are burning deep into your soul. “You make me feel alive again.”

“Y-Yeah, um, you’re welcome.”

Shouto lets go and stands back just when you hear the door creak open.

“Excuse me, miss?” Sara enters with a polite smile. Another man with purple hair stands behind her. “Please meet your dance instructor, Mr. Hitoshi Shinsou. We apologize for making you wait so long!”

“Huh? No, there must be some mistake,” you blink confusedly at them. “My dance instructor is Shouto Todoroki. He’s standing right here.”

Sara shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but you’re the only one here, miss.”

“What?” You whip around, nearly twisting your ankles. Shouto is nowhere to be found. Your eyes search every nook and corner of the room, but you refuse to believe he is gone. “N-no. He was here. I swear, I’m not lying!”

Shinsou arches an eyebrow. “Wait, did you say Shouto Todoroki was your dance instructor?”

“Yes! A tall man with red and white hair; gray and blue eyes?” Your hands gesture wildly in the air. “We shared a dance just moments ago!”

“That’s impossible,” Sara frowns, lowering her clipboard. She glances at Shinsou before turning to you. “Mr. Todoroki died almost seven months ago in an accident. I’m sorry.”

Dead?

You glance down at your hand; it still tingles from Shouto’s kiss. Memories of the dance flash through your head. You remember everything clearly, especially those captivating eyes of his. So how is it possible that he’s dead? Sara and Shinsou give you concerned looks—they’re telling the truth. Soon the fantasy in your mind shatters like glass.

Sara steps forward. “Are you alright?”

“I…I don’t know…”

You start losing the feeling in your legs, and it’s not because you’re worn out. What’s real? What’s just imaginary? You don’t know; the line is blurred. Sara tries snapping you out of your inner turmoil. You don’t listen and glance at the large mirrors—a big mistake.

Shouto’s playful eyes stare back at you. An air of confidence swirls around him as he stands tall. You blink in disbelief. Shouto bows like the charming prince he is, thanking you one last time for the magical waltz dance. He then finally vanishes from your sight.

Except you don’t forget about him.

For he is the handsome ghost who will always dance with you for eternity.

As always, thanks for reading!

Spooky Season 2020 Masterlist

#shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #shouto todoroki #bnha halloween #spooky-season-2020

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

You woke up slowly.

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check.

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check.

Wait…

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left.

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear.

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check.

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man.

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

...

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out.

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you.

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again.

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep.

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze.

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body.

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on.

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out.

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going.

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove.

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn.

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease.

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you. As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly.

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse.

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball.

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place.

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow.

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could.

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course.

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome.

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality.

A certain quality of... of...

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves.

Sigh.

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet.

The reply was instant.

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more.

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up.

Your jaw dropped.

You dropped your phone.

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it.

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope.

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say?

This is just an ad?

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone.

At a very specific number.

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree.

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything.

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that.

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh.

You sneezed.

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

You sniffed, rubbing your nose.

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered.

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait.

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers.

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh.

Whoa.

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs.

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch.

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket.

Oh.

Oh???

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone.

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt.

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him.

Yoongi was right next to you.

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat.

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second.

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

part iv

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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tw-anchor · 4 years

Text

40. Unusual Halloween

Anchor Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x16; Illuminated

Word Count: 8,199

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sex scene (18+ only!)

Author’s Note: Hey guys, sorry I haven’t updated lately. This has been the busiest--and worst--season of my life, so I haven’t felt up to writing much. Unfortunately, it will probably be a while until I update again because I’m starting my new job full time next week while going to school full time as well. Wish me luck! I hope you enjoy the chapter and please make sure to tell me what you think, reblog, and like!

"So, when did you get there?"

If Olivia had to stare at Agent Rafael McCall for another five minutes, she was gonna punch him in the face. She wouldn't be at fault, either; how could she be responsible for her actions when she just went through something as traumatic as a teenager could go through? A serial killer kidnapped her new friend and they all rescued her, but they were the ones being questioned? Where was the justice in the world?

Yeah, if she did end up punching Scott's dad in the face, she would totally blame it on her stressful night. It wasn't because she couldn't stand the smug son of a bitch; even if he wasn't a dick when they first crossed paths, she still wouldn't be able to tolerate him—especially because of what he was doing to Noah. And now, after he ushered in Olivia, Stiles, Scott, Kira, and Lydia into Noah's office, he was asking repetitive questions about their experience.

Hey, Olivia was all for justice and all that—but what exactly could the FBI do about a bunch of werewolves, a banshee, an anchor, and whatever the hell Kira was? Barrow was after kids with glowing eyes and as far as the up-tops were concerned, no such thing existed. They put Barrow in the Eichen House for a reason.

To put it simply, she was not in the best of moods. Kira was some kind of supernatural creature that could absorb electricity, Stiles and Scott were almost electrocuted to death by Barrow, and Isaac was at the Argents, his tether recovering from what had happened to him, even though she had no idea what that was. She did not want to be at the police station at midnight, squished into a small couch with Stiles, Scott, and Kira—Lydia was the lucky one with the armchair—while the jolly green giant questioned them.

To her left, Stiles responded, "At the same time."

"At the same time as who?"

"At the same time as me," Scott told his father.

"By coincidence?"

"What do you mean coincidence?"

Things were not helped when Stiles decided it was time to be a sarcastic little shit. It was well known that Stiles hated Agent McCall—she had heard many, many rants about his best friend's dad—so everyone knew what he was doing. Answering questions with questions, offering sarcastic quips that answered nothing, and silent smirks were what they've been having to deal with since their questioning started. Olivia loved Stiles Stilinski, she really did, but he was wasting their time, precious time where they could be sleeping. He really lived up to his mischievous name.

"That's what I'm asking you," Agent McCall gestured to Stiles and Scott. "The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence?"

Scott's face twisted in confusion. "Are you asking me?"

"I think he's asking me," Stiles mused.

"I think he's asking the both of you," Lydia said dryly, as annoyed with the boys' antics as Olivia was.

"Okay," Agent McCall interjected sternly. "Let me answer the questions."

Olivia rolled her eyes at him, completely unimpressed with his sense of professionalism, and glanced at Stiles. His lips were pursed ridiculously, like he was taking a selfie with the terribly cliché duck face; she had to admit, it did make her want to laugh, especially when she caught sight of Noah holding back his own laughter.

Seeing the amused faces staring back at him, Agent McCall realized his mistake. "Let me ask the questions," he corrected himself. "Just so I have this absolutely clear: Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town."

He closed his notebook, where he had been writing down the information they gave him, with a final snap.

"Sounds about right," Stiles sighed; with his right hand, he idly played with the ends of Olivia's ponytail.

"How'd you know he'd take her to a power station?"

"Well, cause he was an electrical engineer," Stiles scratched his temple with his free hand. He shifted his other away from Olivia until it was folding over his stomach. "Where else would he take her?"

There were a billion other places that Barrow had taken Kira, but they couldn't exactly tell Agent McCall that they knew they were at a power station because of Lydia's newfound banshee abilities. Then they'd be shipped to Eichen.

Agent McCall raised a dubious eyebrow at him. "That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles."

"Yeah, what can I say? I take after my pops, he's in law enforcement," Stiles swiftly smirked, winking at his dad from where he sat behind McCall.

Noah audibly snorted, amused by his son's answer, but covered it with an awkward cough when McCall gave him a glare. "Stiles, just answer the man."

"We made a good guess," Stiles said finally, wrapping his arm back around Olivia's shoulders. She closed her tired eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling and relaxing at the scent that was pure him. Stiles always smelt so good, like sandalwood and musk and minty gum.

Agent McCall set his sights on Scott and Kira. "What were the two of you doing?"

"Eating pizza," Scott answered at the same time as Kira spoke, "Eating sushi."

Olivia rolled her eyes but didn't bother opening them; couldn't they have gotten their story straight before McCall started questioning them?

Scott and Kira glanced at each other awkwardly and cleared their throats.

"Eating sushi."

"Eating pizza."

Jesus Christ.

"Eating sushi and pizza," they finally said together.

Olivia opened her eyes just as McCall looked back at Noah in disbelief. "Do you believe this?"

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak," Noah spoke candidly, ignoring the offended gasp Stiles gave in response. "But I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

"Kira," all heads turned to her when Agent McCall addressed her. "is that how you remember it?"

At once, Stiles, Olivia, and Lydia leaned forward to stare at Kira, giving her their own keep-your-mouth-shut looks. Kira only hesitated for a second before she answered him. "Yes...Could I get my phone back now?"

The police hadn't taken the rest of their phones, but apparently Barrow had started videoing Kira while in the power station. It was officially evidence. Which meant...

"Sorry, but no," McCall refused her as he stood from his seat on Noah's desk. "All right, I think that's it for now. If I have anymore questions, I'll get in touch with you. Kira, a deputy is going to take you home but we'll need you to fill out some paperwork first."

Olivia sighed in relief once they were ushered out of Noah's office. Sticking close to Stiles and Lydia and as they exited the police station, she pulled out her phone. She needed to call Isaac and see if he was okay. Because while Scott and Stiles were in danger with Barrow, Isaac had some other trouble that he had gone into.

There was no electricity pulsing through Beacon Hills unless it came from a generator. Despite this, the students of Beacon Hills High still had to attend their regular classes. Though the sun provided some light in the dark hallways and classrooms, everyone was still bathed in shadows and had to resort to their phones for flashlights if it was too dark for them.

Thankfully, Olivia's house had a generator that ran long enough for the food in their refrigerator to stay fresh and their phones to stay charged. She didn't want to be one of those people, but she would be seriously lost without her phone.

"Class starts in five minutes," Coach boomed through his trusty megaphone as he walked past Stiles' locker where he and Olivia stood before classes started. "Just because there's no power don't expect there to be no school."

Olivia looked up from her phone to narrow her eyes at him, knowing that something was off with that sentence.

"That was a triple negative," Stiles called out as he dug through his locker. "Very impressive, Coach."

"Copy that!"

Olivia snickered and shifted so she was leaning on her side at the lockers next to Stiles'. "Your relationship with Coach is so intriguing."

Stiles chuckled at her, smirking. "What, like how madly in love we are?"

"Exactly," Olivia laughed while pointing a manicured finger at him. "So, am I considered the side chick, or...?"

"Actually, you are," Stiles nodded seriously. "By the way, on a completely unrelated note, I have to cancel tonight's plans. I'm busy..."

"You're gonna Netflix and Chill with Coach? Damn..."

Stiles' amused face immediately creased into one of disgust. "Okay, gross. We took it too far."

Olivia laughed, her heart racing when Stiles gave into his amusement and chuckled along with her.

"Speaking of tonight," Olivia said when their laughter died down. "I'm kinda, sorta, throwing a party?"

Stiles blinked at her in shock. "You hate parties."

"But I don't hate Danny and every year he throws a Halloween party," she explained. "Jackson's not here to help him out and now with the power out, he doesn't have a place, so Lydia and I offered our house because we have the generators."

"At least I'll finally be invited to one of Danny's parties," Stiles paused and looked down at her with wide eyes. "I am invited, right?" when Olivia teasingly grimaced; Stiles' jaw dropped in offense. "Livvy!"

"Of course you're invited, sweetcheeks," Olivia rolled her eyes at him and shifted closer to him in order to wrap her hands around his right arm. "I was just teasing you."

"I have a fragile heart, you can't tease me about that kind of stuff," Stiles ducked down so he could whisper in her ear, his lips grazing against her skin. Olivia shivered and tightened her grip on him. "You know, unless we're alone, hopefully in a bed, though I wouldn't be against a shower or the back of Roscoe..."

Olivia held back her gasp but biting her lip. "But your fragile heart...?"

Stiles chuckled and quickly pressed his warms lips against the sensitive spot behind her ear. "You caught me. My heart's fine, it just beats really fast in your presence so I thought I might have a heart condition."

"You're so fucking cheesy, Stiles Stilinski," she giggled and lightly pushed him away from her. In the process, Stiles' backpack brushed against his locker, making his keys fall to the floor. "Oops, sorry."

"It's fine—and you love my cheesiness, by the way," Stiles winked at her and then bent to retrieve his key ring. He paused when he noticed a key that he didn't recognize. "Hello, where did you come from?"

"What, the key?" Stiles nodded at her; Olivia shrugged. "Maybe your dad put it on there. Oh, there's Scott."

Stiles, who was about to disagree with her about the key, turned around to see his best friend stepping into school. He waved at him, but Scott's focus was not on Stiles or Olivia. No, Scott was staring at Kira, who was at her locker down the hall. Before Scott could even take another step in her direction, Stiles quickly intervened.

"No, no, stop, stop," he directed Scott over to Olivia by his locker.

Scott gave him a disgruntled look. "What? I need to talk to her."

"No, you need to remember someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her," Stiles corrected him.

Olivia sighed. To be honest, she was with Scott on this one. Kira had a serial bomber go after her and try to kill her, and though she was mysteriously able to survive an astounding electric blast, Kira was a sweet girl and they needed to check up on her. It was out of the norm for her, she was fully aware, but since Kira was like them—at least, she was supernatural—maybe she needed friends, or a pack, to help her along. Olivia and Scott were willing to extend that olive branch.

"That's why he needs to talk to her, Stiles."

Stiles gave her a betrayed look. "Don't take his side!" he looked at her and Scott sternly. "Guys, until we figure out if she's just another psychotic monster that's going to start murdering everybody, I vote against any and all interaction."

"Stiles, she uses an elephant backpack, for crying out loud," Olivia rolled her eyes. "Does that seem psychotic to you?"

Stiles cocked his head, seriously considering her question. Before he could answer, Scott spoke, "What if she's like me?"

Scott's comment seemed to make up Stiles' mind. "That girl walked through 1.21 gigawatts of electricity," he pointed out, annoyed, and slammed his locker shut. "She's not like you."

Olivia turned her head toward Kira's locker. Kira seemed nervous, as though she could feel their eyes on her, as she rummaged through her locker. Quickly, she grabbed a textbook, shut her locker, and walked away, glancing back at them only once.

"Maybe Stiles is right," Olivia gave in, looking over at Scott. "Werewolves can't take that level of electricity. So...until we find out what Kira is, maybe you need to give her some space."

Stiles gave her a proud look while Scott sighed and shook his head. "Fine," he finally agreed. "Let's go to class."

Together, they walked to physics class. Today was the first day that Olivia's aunt, Natalie, would be taking over Mr. Harris' classes. Olivia was very proud of her aunt and excited to be able to learn from her, as she usually didn't have time to sit down and discuss the sciences with her whilst at her previous job at the local television station. No longer would they have subpar substitute teachers trying to teach them about higher levels of science—if Olivia was going to be challenged for the rest of the year, she needed a real science guy and Natalie more than fit the bill.

"Scott, Stiles," Natalie greeted the boys when they passed her to find their shared table. "Olivia, sweetheart, can we talk?"

"Sure, Aunt Nat," Olivia stepped aside to allow her classmates to walk into the room. "What's up? Are you nervous for your first class? Because you don't have to be. You're gonna be amazing."

Natalie smiled gratefully. "Well, thank you, Liv, but that's not what I wanted to talk about. I know we discussed the party at the house tonight, but Sherry's house doesn't have power, so I was hoping we could have book club at our house. We're the only ones with working generators..."

Olivia smiled to hide her disappointment. "Don't worry about it, Aunt Nat. I'm sure book club will be fun. I have to go talk to Danny, though..."

"Of course," Natalie nodded. "I have to pass out these worksheets anyway."

Olivia gave her aunt one last smile before scurrying over to the lab table where Danny was seated. Usually she and Lydia were lab partners and Danny shared with Aiden, but they could handle a switch for one day. She clambered onto the lab stool next to Danny, and gave Lydia, who was seated at the table in front of them, a significant look. Lydia could read her easily and since she knew about the party plans, she was able to realize that something was going on.

"You're my lab partner today, huh?" Danny gave Olivia a confused look.

"It's because I have bad news. We can't use my house tonight, my aunt's having book club."

Danny visibly deflated. "So we have no venue?"

"Do we know of another place that's big enough for a party and has generators?" Olivia mused. The only other place that she, personally, could think of was Derek's loft. Derek would never go for it, would he? "Wait a second..."

Every Halloween, since Derek was around fourteen, his mom, Talia, would take him and Laura to a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was very shocking that Derek enjoyed such an event, but he never failed to go each year, even after Talia died. Olivia had been with to the show with her cousins once, and though she liked the movie, she didn't much enjoy being surrounded by strangers who sang louder than the actors or threw stuff at the screen.

Yes, she was entirely aware that she was a party-pooper, thank you very much. The point was that Derek wouldn't be at the loft, as the nearest showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show was an hour away. He'd be gone all night and would be none the wiser of a party.

Danny perked up, seeing the scheming look on her face. "You have a plan, don't you?"

"I know a place where we can have your party."

She pulled out her phone to text Derek.

Ollie: Are you still going to Rocky Horror?

Derek: Yeah, why?

Ollie: Jw. Have fun and be safe!

When Stiles thought about how his Halloween was supposed to go, he certainly hadn't thought of today's events. He'd been expecting a scary movie marathon with Olivia by his side, allowing him to hide his head in her neck at the scary parts. He'd been expecting them to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters that stumbled upon the Sheriff's house because the Stilinski's always gave out the best candy in their neighborhood.

He wasn't, however, expecting a rave at Derek's loft—that Olivia helped plan, by the way—or helping Scott and Kira break into the police station.

When Scott had approached Stiles, asking for help get into the police station, he had immediately said no. Agent Jackass McCall was already trying to get his dad impeached, and there was no way he was taking part in any plot that could get Noah into even more trouble. Unfortunately, he felt obligated to change his tune when Scott told him exactly why he and Kira needed to break into Agent McCall's office.

Apparently Kira had already known that something was off with her before the Barrow incident. She had taken a picture of herself and found a sort of aura around her, one that definitely couldn't be explained if you didn't know about the supernatural happenings in the world. Now that McCall had Kira's phone, he had access to that picture and they absolutely could not let him know about the supernatural side to Beacon Hills, let alone his son's current nature.

So, instead of helping Olivia, Danny, and the twins set up the rave at Derek's loft, he was stuck playing sidekick. Fun. Yeah, it was totally what he wanted to do on Halloween.

Bitterly, he chewed up the rest of the Snickers bar he had been snacking on and threw the wrapper away in the small bin he kept in the backseat of his jeep. When he turned back, facing the front, he saw Scott and Kira pull up on Scott's bike.

All right, here we go.

It wasn't that Stiles didn't like Kira—honestly, he didn't know enough about her to like or dislike her—but he certainly didn't trust her. After everything they went through since Scott was bitten by Peter, how was he supposed to trust anyone new? Especially when she happened to be immune to electricity and instantly took a shining to Scott.

Stiles grabbed the station keycards that he had sneakily copied from Noah and handed them to Scott one by one. "Okay, this one will get you into all of the perimeter doors," he passed another one. "this one into the evidence room, and this one's for my father's office."

Scott looked at him, alarmed. "You didn't steal these, did you?"

"No, I cloned them using the RFID emulator."

It was clear that Scott nor Kira had no idea what he was talking about. "Is that worse than stealing?"

Stiles rolled his eyes; the two of them had done a lot worse than stealing before. "It's smarter."

Scott nodded, his lips quirking up, impressed by Stiles' actions but he was quickly pulled away by Kira. "Scott, can I ask you something?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. That wasn't suspicious at all. "Okay, I'll just...wait here..."

Luckily, Kira and Scott's conversation was brief. They joined him back at the jeep, Kira smiling widely up at him. "Okay."

"Okay," Stiles mimicked her, raising his eyebrows as he glanced between her and Scott. "So, now almost everybody's out dealing with the blackout, but there's always somebody at the front desk, dispatch and usually a night shifter or two," he pointed at the only door in the alley where he and Scott parked. "You guys are gonna use the service door entrance by the dumpster, all right? Nobody uses it."

Scott and Kira glanced at the service door and nodded obediently.

"Now, I'll text you if anyone comes out," Stiles continued. "But, Scott, if you get caught, I can't help you. My dad's under investigation for an impeachment because of your dad, so if anything happens, I will run and leave you both for dead."

Kira blinked and smiled nervously at him while Scott nodded, knowing how serious he was. "I got it. Seriously, dude, thanks."

Stiles pressed his lips together and nodded. "I'd ask my dad, but you know..."

"No, I know," Scott assured him earnestly. "I get it."

"All right, just, uh, hurry up," Stiles waved them off. "Be careful."

Scott and Kira scurried off and once they were inside, Stiles let a big sigh of relief. Hopefully they'd have no trouble and get in and out after deleting the pictures on Kira's phone. However, a part of him knew that it wouldn't be that simple. When were they ever given the easy way out? The answer was that they didn't; they had notoriously bad luck.

Stiles waited silently, impatiently fiddling with his key ring. He tossed them round and round his index finger until he caught sight of the key he had noticed earlier at school. He didn't know what it was for and he knew the purpose for all of his keys. He had his house keys, his jeep keys, his dad's car keys, Scott's house keys, and even Olivia's house keys...but this key? Well, he had never seen it before and it was bugging him out. How could he not remember putting a new key on his key ring? How else would it have gotten there?

Bright headlights seared his eyes for a moment as a vehicle pulled into the alleyway behind the station. He didn't know who it was that had parked there until the headlights went off and the man got out of his car; Stiles would recognize that tall, lanky figure anywhere.

Fucking asshole, he cursed to himself as McCall rounded the front of his car. Fuck, Scott, where are you? Come on. Oh, fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Despite telling Scott upfront that he would leave him and Kira, he couldn't do it.

"Fuck," he opened his door and jumped out as McCall entered the station. "I'm go going to regret this."

He quickly ran around the building, entering only a few seconds after Agent McCall flashed his badge to the deputy at the front desk.

"Hey, hey!" he called, waving to the workers at the desk before catching up to McCall. "Wow!" he exclaimed when the agent turned to face him, confused. "Thank God you are here. Oh, boy! Thank the lord!"

As always, Agent McCall was not impressed with his antics. "What do you want, Stiles?"

Shit, now he had to come up with something to talk about. "I was...I was just...I was thinking on the case," he blurted out nervously, his absentminded thoughts taking over for him. "I was thinking I should clue you in on my thinking. Here's my thinking, I was thinking this..."

He grimaced at the annoyed glare McCall was giving him. "I was thinking that Barrow, right...I was thinking that Barrow received the information about who to kill at the school, right, you know that?" he was fully aware he was rambling but the more his brain worked, the better he felt about this excuse of a conversation. "So, I was thinking that maybe the person who gave him that information—check this out—might actually be someone at the school."

Agent McCall raised his eyebrows and Stiles laughed awkwardly, poking his chest. "And that's, uh, my thinking."

McCall hummed for a moment, eyeing him suspiciously Stiles honestly thought that he was caught and he had just given him the very reason to fire Noah, but then the older man spoke. "You're right."

"I am?!"

"Yeah, we, uh...we started looking for links between Barrow, faculty, and students last night," McCall informed him.

"So you already, then, know that stuff?" McCall nodded at Stiles' question. "You already thought of that."

"Your dad did," McCall shared, his mouth twisting into a disapproving smirk. "His one useful suggestion."

A storm cloud of rage bubbled in Stiles' gut as McCall went to enter the bullpen. He was so fucking sick of this man coming around and ruining everyone's lives just because his sucked so bad. McCall made his bed and instead of laying in it, he was destroying everyone else's.

Without thinking, Stiles firmly grabbed McCall's arm, stopping him from entering the bullpen. "You know, this attitude that you have toward my dad? You can dress it up to all the professional disapproval that you want, but I know the real reason you don't like him."

McCall chuckled sarcastically, sending Stiles deeper into his silent fury. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," his voice lowered threateningly, his nostrils flaring angrily. "because he knows something that you don't want him to know. And guess what?" his whisper took on a sing-song tune before quickly diving into a hard whisper. "I know it too."

McCall swallowed uncomfortably and a thrill went through Stiles as he congratulated himself on being able to intimidate an FBI agent who was trying to fuck up his dad's life. "Go home, Stiles. There's a curfew."

Stiles smirked as McCall pulled himself from his grasp and stepped around him, clearing his throat awkwardly as he entered the bullpen. Without another word, he left the police station, riding the high that the whole interaction had caused him.

He waited only a few minutes by his jeep until Scott and Kira ran out of the building, huge smiles on their faces.

"We did it," Scott told him enthusiastically. "All the pics are deleted."

"That was awesome!" Kira crowed, bouncing in place. "I mean, terrifying, completely terrifying...but kind of awesome! I've never done anything like that before. Have you guys?"

Stiles snorted and shared an amused look with Scott. "Yeah, once or twice."

Scott grinned back at him and then sighed, looking to Kira. "I guess I should take you home."

It was very clear to Stiles that Scott didn't want to stop hanging out with Kira. They were obviously having a good time and, really, what trouble could they get up to at a party? Olivia liked Kira, too—as much as he could like someone that she hadn't really hung out with—so it wasn't like Kira would be unwanted at the rave.

"Hey," he patted Scott's shoulder pointedly. "Don't forget, Livvy's throwing that party at Derek's loft."

"Oh, yeah," Scott perked up and glanced back at Kira. "You wanna go?"

Kira smiled shyly—that was all the answer the boys needed.

Olivia was only a little tipsy.

She was being responsible tonight—well, as responsible as one could get while throwing a party at your cousins loft while they're out of town—and not drinking as much as Danny. He needed to have fun and relax a bit, and while Olivia wanted to have fun too, she didn't need alcohol to do so.

The only reason she was drinking at all was because Lydia had begged her to take a couple of shots with her and it seemed socially unacceptable to not drink a beer at your own party.

So, yeah, she was feeling a little bit buzzed but not enough to feel it in the morning. She knew her limits and she wasn't the type of person to go over them.

All around her, people were dancing, drinking, and having fun with neon paint dripped all over their bodies. The black lights that she, Danny, Ethan, and Aiden put up around the loft made everyone glow in the dark and with the pumping of the loud music that the awesome deejay that Danny hired played, it was enough to make anyone excited. She didn't even like most parties and she was having a great time. Besides, after what Beacon Hills went through with stupid Jennifer and the million human sacrifices, they needed a time to let loose.

So, even though she normally couldn't stand Aiden—or Lydia spending time with him, for that matter—she couldn't help but smirk when she saw him and Lydia dancing up on each other. No doubt Lydia was trying to keep her mind off of Scott and his newfound crush on Kira by focusing on the former alpha. It wasn't the best way to deal, but who was Olivia to tell Lydia how to live her life? Lydia was completely capable of taking care of herself.

"I cannot believe that Olivia Martin threw a party," her attention was caught by Allison as she and Isaac walked over to her. "at her cousin's loft, no less."

Isaac laughed and added, "I'm guessing Derek can never know about this?"

"Maybe in a couple of years," Olivia quickly wrapped her arms around them in a short group hug. "How are you doing, Isaac? You never got back to me."

She didn't like the way that Isaac and Allison immediately shared a loaded look with one another, as if debating on how to answer her question. She wasn't dumb, she knew they were hiding something. Why, she didn't know.

Isaac knew that she wouldn't give up and though he knew he owed her some sort of explanation, he had promised Allison and her dad to keep his mouth shut for twenty-four hours. "Enjoy the party, Liv. I'll tell you after."

"Promise, both of you?" Olivia gave the two of them a serious look.

Allison grinned while Isaac nodded, both of them speaking together. "Promise."

"All right, fine. Why don't you guys get something to drink?" Olivia glanced around the group of dancing bodies before pointing out where the bartender was set up. "Oh, and get painted up, too."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac hooked Allison's fingers with his and pulled her away, pointedly ignoring the amused look their friend sent their way.

Olivia shook her head, eyes following Isaac and Allison as they slipped into the crowd. She should have known something was going on there, but she guessed she had been a little preoccupied with everything else going on in their lives. Still...Allison and Isaac? Yeah, she could see it. Allison was badass and strong and she was the firm ground of support that Isaac needed and Isaac was light and funny and could definitely get Allison to let loose. They complimented each other, they were cute.

They didn't need her approval whatsoever, but they had it anyway.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pulse came from Derek's tether before fading away. Olivia paused, her hand on her chest, and focused in on him. He was fine now, but it was odd, they way he lit up and went dark so soon after. Right now, it didn't concern her. Maybe he almost missed a red light or something...

Thoughts about Derek slipped away as she spotted the loft door opening. She recognized the neon-striped t-shirt that Stiles had worn to school earlier that day, and was instantly on her way toward him. She was tipsy, she wanted to have fun, and her hot-ass boyfriend had just entered the premises. There was no way she was just going to stand there and wait for him to come to her.

She made her way through the jungle of her drunk classmates, her eyes never leaving Stiles. As she got closer, she heard Scott—who was with Kira—asking him about leaving so they could figure something out. Before Stiles could respond, she was grabbing his arm, turning him and standing on her tiptoes so she could kiss him on the cheek.

"Happy Halloween, sweetcheeks," she purred into his ear, giving him a seductive look before letting him go.

"It can wait, it can wait!" Stiles shouted at Scott over the music. As Olivia began to slip away, he grabbed her hand so she would take him with her. "See ya!"

Olivia smirked knowingly when Stiles tightened his grip on her hand and abruptly pulled, swiftly turning her to face him. "Look at you, baby."

She was fully aware of what her outfit would do to him. Other than the fact she thought she was hot, she knew that her short, flowy shorts, and neon orange bralette would turn him on. And the body paint brushed all over her, well, that was just a bonus. "You like?"

"I love it. You're so fucking hot," he pulled her closer to him, their fronts pressed together; Olivia instantly grabbed his biceps, not fighting when he smashed their lips together.

It had been about a month since Olivia and Stiles had sex because of their busy lives. Of course, they did other things when they were in the mood but they never had time to go all the way again. Both of them were feeling the strain; they were crazy in love and so terribly attracted to one another, so of course, hormones were always pulsing through them. That night, they reached a pinnacle of tension that they couldn't ignore.

Within minutes, Olivia and Stiles found themselves upstairs in the bedroom Olivia used when she stayed over at Derek's loft. The both of them completely ignored the full-sized mattress in favor of the back of the door that Stiles pressed her up against, the wood soothingly cool against her back.

Stiles' hair was a mess under Olivia's fingers as she lost herself in his mouth, tongues wrestling together in a fight that neither of them wanted to lose—or win, for that matter. Stiles' palms were hot against her thighs, pushing her up until her legs wrapped around his waist, and when they moved tantalizingly slow to her ass and squeezed her cheeks, she gasped and arched her chest against him.

"Shit, Stiles!"

"Mmhm," Stiles moaned against her lips as her movement pressed deliciously against his cock. Slowly, he kissed away from her mouth and down her jaw to her neck, sucking harshly against the smooth and silky skin he found there. He loved the way she reacted to him, pushing herself against him again as she groaned under his demonstrations. "Livvy."

An indescribable warmth curled in Olivia's belly as she and Stiles rubbed up against one another. Letting go of his hair, she moved one hand down the length of Stiles' body to the band of his jeans. She easily popped the button and took a second to play with the wiry hair of his happy trail, knowing that it would lead her right to paradise.

"Mm...want you, baby," Stiles abruptly pulled away from her neck to stare at her with blown eyes. "Can I have you?"

Olivia didn't need to think about it. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. "'Course, babe."

A wickedly sexy grin split Stiles' lips and Olivia's head nearly hit the door with how forcefully he kissed her. She was so caught up in their kiss that she didn't notice Stiles using one hand to pull her bralette down, freeing her breasts; it wasn't until he pulled away from the kiss and wrapped his lips about her right nipple when she realized. She moaned loudly, the pitch arcing higher when Stiles pushed his left thigh between hers to take some of her weight so she could grind down on him.

"Fuck, Stiles."

Stiles playfully bit at her nipple in response, prompting a pleasured sigh that turned more intense when he sucked at her. Shit, he felt so fucking good.

"Please..."

Stiles pulled away from her breast, licking his lips, and smirked up at her. "Please what, baby?"

Olivia's chest heaved as she breathed, "Please fuck me."

In a rapid succession of movements, broken up by awkward giggles, loving kisses, and whispered promises under their breath, Stiles and Olivia stripped from the rest of their clothes. The heat turned back on once Olivia's panties were officially out of the way and Stiles took it to his advantage, playing with her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Olivia moaned and ducked her head into his neck, her mouth finding traction between his neck and collarbone.

"Ready?"

"Mmhm."

Both of them moaned together as Stiles slipped into her with one single thrust. Quick to find a rhythm, they moved their hips together, taking pleasure from one another that was freely given.

"So fucking good, baby," Stiles groaned into her collarbone, gently nipping the skin there. By now, some of the neon paint on Olivia's body was starting to rub off on him and boy, did he not mind. They were like some kind of sexy painting together, they could totally be in a museum. "Love you."

"I love you," Olivia returned, arching back when he hit a particularly good spot inside of her.

She gasped when he licked from her collarbone all the way up to her chin before uniting their lips. Pressing her up against the door so most of her weight was resting on it, Stiles moved one hand to hold her jaw, keeping her lips on his, and the other to her clit, rubbing it firmly.

"S-Stiles..."

"You gonna come for me, baby? Huh?" he dragged his lips over to her ear, whispering to her with hot and heavy breaths. "C'mon, baby. Come with me."

The coil of pleasure that had been starting to build since she first kissed Stiles that night was wound too tight. Even though it felt so, so good to stay on the edge while Stiles thrust in and out of her and played with her clit, heading over the precipice would be even better. That's just how orgasms with Stiles went: pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure.

Moving her right hand from where it was attached to the firm muscles in Stiles' back, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled her back to her lips. Their moans harmonized together as they reached their peaks, coming within just seconds of each other with sharp sighs.

Ten minutes later, after waiting out their aftershocks and post-orgasm bliss, they cleaned themselves up, shared a few more kisses, and went back downstairs where the party was still going strong.

Reminiscent of their first dance together, Stiles pulled Olivia onto the dance floor. They made fools of themselves as they danced crazily together, pulling out silly dance moves from the blue. The goofy grins on their faces told outsiders how madly in love they were and the warmth inside their chests proved it to themselves—not that they had any doubt, either way.

Before long, Stiles mentioned how thirsty he was, so they scored a couple of beers off the bartender and went to sit down.

"Let me see your bottle opener," Olivia held her palm out to Stiles expectantly, knowing that he kept one on his key ring.

"Oop," Stiles rummaged through his jean pocket and pulled the key ring out, handing it over to her. "Here ya go."

"Thanks," she detached the caps from their bottles and paused, her eyes lingering on his keys when she went to give them back to him. "You know, your key has phosphors on it."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Phosphors? What the hell is that?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and smiled patiently at him. "It's any substance that luminesces," she told him. "It's in your teeth and your fingernails, laundry detergent, this paint," she brushed her thumb against his lips, where some of the leftover lipstick she had one glowed against his flesh. "this..."

Stiles cut her off, urgently smashing his mouth to hers. Her stomach flipped pleasantly as she kissed back. After a few seconds they pulled away, both of them inhaling deeply.

"It reacts to the UV light," she finished, breathing heavily. "that's why it glows."

"How would I get phosphors on my key?"

"Probably lots of ways," Olivia shrugged carelessly. "You could have touched them after chemistry class, or after you washed your clothes..." she trailed off when she saw the frown playing at his lips. "Stiles, are you okay?"

Stiles forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah...um...I'm sorry, I just thought of something and I really have to go."

"What?" Olivia was understandably confused. "Stiles, what are you talking about?"

"I want to stay, I really do, cause I love you and you're so fucking beautiful," Stiles rambled quickly, standing up and setting his beer bottle down on the floor. "but I need to go see something, so you stay here, okay. I love you. Drink a bottle of water, okay?"

"Stiles, wait—"

"Love you, be careful!" he called, slipping away before she could stand and go after him.

"Stiles!"

Olivia wanted to follow him, she really did. She knew something was bothering him and she wanted to know what it was so she could help him. But before she could chase after him, Lydia's tether flared brightly and disappeared just like Derek's had before. Just like Isaac's had the night before, which could not be a coincidence.

Worriedly, she dived into Lydia's tether and looked for her. In a daze, she started walking, not even noticing when Danny had started to follow her, worriedly calling out her name.

"Liv, what are you doing? Olivia!"

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia...

She opened the door that led to Derek's balcony and paused when she saw her cousin laying still on the ground, her fingers seizing lightly. "Lydia!" she rushed to her and knelt down, finally noticing Danny. "Go get Aiden, hurry!"

"I'm so sorry, Lyds," she murmured, using all her strength to pull Lydia into her lap. She wrapped her arms tightly around the shivering red head and dug her head into her neck. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine."

What the hell happened to Lydia? What had attacked her and left her freezing on the balcony, unable to move or call for help? Whatever it was, was this the thing that got Derek and Isaac?

It was only a minute before Aiden and Danny rushed back out to her and Lydia.

"What happened?" Aiden asked as he knelt down next to the girls.

"I have no idea, but she's freezing," Olivia's eyes stung, feeling helpless, as she helped transfer Lydia to Aiden's warm arms. "I think she's hypothermic. We gotta get her inside."

Aiden nodded seriously and got to his feet, lifting Lydia with ease. "Let's go."

"Over here," Danny pointed to the nearest wall as they passed him to go back into the loft. "there's a heating vent!"

"Thank you, Danny," Olivia placed a grateful hand on his shoulder before following Aiden.

The former alpha set Lydia down in front of the heat register—thankfully the building used propane for heat, so the lack of electricity didn't affect it—and held her tightly, rocking her back in forth in order to get some heat back inside of Lydia. Olivia immediately started rubbing Lydia's bare legs, hoping that friction could offer some heat too.

"I'll try to find a blanket," Danny volunteered.

"Upstairs, the first door to the right," Olivia told him; he nodded and took off into the crowd. "Lydia," she called loudly so her cousin could hear her over the music. "Lyds, what happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Lydia stared at her, wide-eyed, and gasped, "They came out of the dark."

"Who?" Aiden asked. "Who came out of the dark?"

"Lyds?"

"They—they looked like n-ninjas," Lydia stammered, her teeth chattering. "I—I couldn't scream, it took my scream."

Olivia and Aiden shared a dreadful look, both of them thinking the same thing. Shit.

Then, Olivia heard it, the ferocious growl that filled up her whole mental map. Derek's tether lit up brilliantly as he called out for her and Scott. It was then that she realized that she had horribly screwed up, ignoring his tether earlier. She could have done something if she just took her warnings of Derek and Isaac's injuries seriously. She was a horrible person.

"Derek!"

Aiden looked at her sharply. "This happened to Derek too?"

"I think so."

Danny quickly came back with a blanket and draped it over Lydia's shoulders. Though the redhead was still kind of out of it, she was slowly warming back up to the point where Olivia felt a little better about her health. Just as she was about to suggest they move Lydia to her room, the music was abruptly cut off.

"GET OUT!"

Yeah, that was definitely Derek. Olivia was so fucking screwed.

At once, the crowd started running for the door. Olivia helped Aiden get Lydia to her feet and let Danny take some of her weight. "Can you take her home please? I'll deal with this."

Danny nodded, giving a very angry Derek a wary look. "Yeah, okay." And with that, he towed Lydia out of the loft, leaving only Olivia, Derek, Aiden, Ethan, Scott, Allison, Isaac, and Kira.

Well, there were the dark shadows that appeared out of nowhere, too. Just like Lydia had described them, they looked like ninja assassins, with silver masks and glowing yellow eyes draped in black robes.

In unison, the robed ninjas took a step toward Aiden and Olivia, their glowing eyes glaring at them.

"Guys," Aiden called to the rest of the pack, reaching for Olivia to move her behind him. "Guys, they're looking at us. Why are they all looking at us, guys?"

"Ollie, go!"

Olivia didn't hesitate, taking Derek's warning. She ran away from where Aiden stood toward Isaac, Allison, and Ethan, who was leaning heavily against them. At the same time, Derek and Scott attacked, turning as they went to fight the dark ninjas.

Olivia focused on Derek, watching with a grimace as she realized that the ninjas were much better than him and Scott at combat. Sure, Derek had experience and strength, but these guys that came from the shadows seemed unbeatable. At one point, Derek had even snapped one's neck, only for it to pop back in place.

Derek was not doing well in his fight, his tether pulsing brightly, and neither was Scott. Once they were both on the floor, tapped out, Isaac stepped in, sharpening his nails into claws as Olivia took the rest of Ethan's weight to help Allison.

Isaac growled at one of the ninjas but the being did not look at all intimidated. In fact, he pulled a long, sharp sword from the middle of his chest and held it out toward Isaac, swinging it around threateningly. Smartly, Isaac stepped back—protecting Aiden, of all people, was not worth the sword to his stomach.

The ninja turned away from Isaac, facing Aiden like the others.

"Someone do something!" Allison called out, looking between Scott and Derek.

It was too late. Two ninjas grabbed Aiden's arms and held him still while a third stood in front of him. He looked into the former alpha's eyes and cocked his head, reaching up to grab a hold of his ear. A rattling noise came from its chest as it used one strict flick to make a mark behind Aiden's ear; Aiden immediately collapsed onto the floor, looking much like Lydia had when Olivia had found her.

Another step and all the ninjas were looking at her.

"Oh, shit."

Scott raced in front of her, Ethan, and Allison, growling fiercely at the beings. Before any of them could take a step forward, the sun began to shine through the large window. With only a touch of the rays against the ninja's, they disappeared in a black mist.

Finding his strength, Ethan left Allison and Olivia's grasp to run across the room to his brother. At the same time, Olivia went over to Derek, helping him up from the floor and wrapping an arm around his torso to keep him upright.

"What the hell were those things?" Scott asked, looking around the room for any answer.

None of them knew...except maybe Allison and Isaac.

Isaac stepped forward, glancing at Allison. "Your dad's twenty-four hours are up."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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hustlinhufflepuff · 4 years

Text

I’ll Remember

Draco x Hufflepuff Reader

A/N: Reader shares dorm with a girl but other than that it is pretty gender neutral... I think. Crazy how I struggled to write a 1500 word paper but wrote this fic while procrastinating. Kind of fluff, kind of angsty at the beginning.

Description: You’re a brave Hufflepuff who has had to stand up to Draco Malfoy for the entirety of your time at Hogwarts. You decide to face the problem head on and... befriend him? Draco quickly warms up to the idea of becoming friends, and eventually crushes on reader.

Word Count: 4657

The Hufflepuff House is extremely underrated. We’re made fun of and thought of being not smart enough for Ravenclaw or not brave enough for Gryffindor or not as aspiring as Syltherins. All completely wrong. Hufflepuffs are also expected to be nice all of the time and never defend themselves, but Hufflepuffs will defend themselves and others. As a hufflepuff yourself, you’ve had to defend others from Draco Malfoy. You could see straight through his facade, he wasn’t a mean bully, just a misunderstood kid who was forced to grow up too fast.

Hufflepuffs and Slytherins shared Care of Magical Creatures together. “This right ‘ere is a niffler. Careful wit the fellers, they like ‘old and will take it from ye” Hagrid explains showing the cute thief off.

“Is that why you’re able to take care of it? You have nothing valuable you oaf, you’re the perfect caretaker” Draco scoffs as the Slytherins erupt into laughter. You could see Hagrid was hurt by the comment and the laughter that ensued. “Actually, he’s the perfect caretaker because he’s actually an empathetic person and not an absolute twat!” you yell from the opposite end of the group. The entire class began whispering and murmuring, taken aback from the bold rebuttal. “Oh? Look it’s the little wanna be Gryffindor, y/ln” Draco began walking towards you. He looked you straight in the eyes and his face was no farther than an inch away. You could feel his hot minty breath on your face as he began speaking again “still feeling brave y/l/n?” You furrow your eyebrows and look down and see a niffler going into Draco’s robes. You can't help but laugh. “Something funny, is it?” he says aggressively. “Yep,” you say squatting down and picking up the niffler. “I believe this is yours Malfoy'' you dangle his replica of a golden snitch he keeps for good luck. He snatches it out of your hand and struts back to his friends.

You hand the niffler back to Hagrid, “thanks fer that y/n, fer all of that” you smile and nod and go back to your place surrounded by your classmates who were impressed by your bravery. Class continued and you wrote your notes down in your notebook, you sketch out the niffler and decide to make it hold the snitch in your drawing. You feel a set of eyes staring at you. You raise your head and look around and realize it’s Draco staring at you, clearly upset at you. You give him a friendly smile as to which he rolls his eyes and looks away.

For the rest of the week, you would find Draco staring at you everytime you were in the same room. At the start of the new week, you got tired of him staring and decided to confront him. You didn’t want to do it publically so you could have an actual conversation. You ask Professor Sprout to ask Draco to stay behind after class, this was the only way you could figure out to get him by himself.

“Mr. Malfoy, please stay after class” Professor Sprout asked as the class got up to leave. “I’ll see you at dinner,” Draco tells Crabbe and Goyle. You stayed behind as well. “Mrs. y/l/n would like to talk to you privately Mr. Malfoy '' Professor Sprout informed him once you three were the only ones there. Draco scoffed as he looked back at you “Are you joking? You’re wasting my time, I’m leaving” Draco said heading towards the door. “Draco, please!” you plead and to your surprise he turns back around. “You never stop, do you y/n?” he walks closer to you and Professor Sprout takes it as her cue to leave and give you two privacy.

“Don’t stop what?” you ask genuinely confused. “That! Constantly talking back to me!” he points at you, his finger in your face. “Look Draco, I’m not scared or intimidated by you because —“ Draco crosses his arms “because what?” he scoffs. “Because I know you’re just acting tough Draco”. you lay your hand on his shoulder. He quickly grabs your wrist tightly, “You don’t know anything about me y/l/n”.

He’s staring into your eyes intensely, you ignore commenting on the death grip he has on your hand. “That’s because you don’t let anyone get close to you” you continue staring back at him. “Because no one wants to and I don’t blame them” he lets go of your wrist leaving a red mark where he wrapped his hand around. “I want to,” you say. “Why? So you can use everything you learn about me and humiliate me?” he scoffs. “No. I want to because I want to see if I’m right that everyone is inherently a good person.” you say. “Fine. We can talk occasionally, don’t expect to form an actual friendship or an acquaintanceship for that matter and don’t tell anyone or I’ll make you regret you ever looked in my general direction” he threatens, turning around and leaving.

You look down at your wrist and see the bruise his ring caused. In order to avoid questions, you put a thick bracelet to cover it up. “Did you talk to Draco?” Lili, a fellow Hufflepuff and friend asks. “Yes, it went as you would expect” you lied. “Well, you tried your best, y/n ” Draco is staring at you from across the dining hall, you lose your appetite immediately.

“Why did you stop eating y/n?” Draco approaches you before you enter the common room. He leans against the dungeon wall. “It’s not healthy to skip meals, y’know?” he says tossing an apple up in the air and catching it repetitively. “Are you worried about me, Draco Malfoy?” you ask, surprised. “No, I have more important matters to worry about”, he tosses the apple at you and you somehow manage to catch it. He laughs and walks away. You stare at the apple for a long time. You laid it on your bed and just sat there inspecting it. “Did Draco manage to poison this?” you wonder. You decide to risk it and eat the apple. After an hour of reading Advanced Potion Making, you decide to sleep, hoping not to die in your sleep from the apple.

The apple wasn’t poisoned, either that or it took over a week to take effect.

You were in flying class and so was Draco. He of course was an expert flyer as the seeker and captain of the slytherin quidditch team. You consider yourself as a good flyer, but definitely not nearly as good as Draco. Draco always had the newest broom whereas you had to use the school’s old brooms. “I think you’d be better if you had a newer broom y/n” Draco says flying beside you. “I can’t afford a new broom, my parents were barely able to afford our books this year” you tell him, passing him. He frowns, he realizes he brought up a sensitive topic and he wishes he hadn’t. “You’re still a great flyer y/n, you should try out to be on the Hufflepuff team. They might have a chance of winning if they have you.” he says when he catches up to you. You look up and see his sincerity in his face and shrug, “Maybe I will” you reply which brings a smirk to his face.

Quidditch tryouts were that upcoming week, you kept replaying Draco suggesting that you try out. For once you were actually considering it. Madam Hooch did often tell you you’d be a better seeker than Michael who was last season’s seeker. She also said that you'd be able to train every day that week after dinner, you wouldn’t have the field to yourself of course, everyone else would be practicing as well. After dinner, you were eager to arrive at the training grounds to improve your flying skills before the try outs. You get the old school broom and head on before you go off you see Draco watching the younger slytherins. He sees you and approaches you “Hello y/l/n, did you decide to take my advice?” he motions to your broom. “I’m considering it, I'm not completely convinced, you’re already guaranteed to be in the team so why are you here?” you question. “What? I can't decide to fly on a beautiful day?” he replies as you raise one eyebrow in suspicion. “Fine, I'm here to scope out the new recruits for the team, as the captain it’s my responsibility to see who has the most potential” he says pointing in the direction of young slytherins. You smile “See? It's not that hard to tell the truth” you wink at him as you take off. You couldn't see it, but that wink made Draco’s face turn red. He scratched his neck and sat down on the grass with the intentions to watch the slytherins but got distracted by watching you.

Feeling confident, you headed towards the quidditch field to attend tryouts. Unbeknownst to you, Draco was watching from afar. He tried to convince himself it was solely for the sake of observing the ‘competition’, but in reality he really wanted to know whether you tried out or not. Once you arrived, he contemplated leaving since he got the answer he was looking for but he decided he didn't have anything better to do so, why not?

Your tryout went better than you expected, you actually felt like you had a good chance of being chosen. You were drained and needed to eat to regain your energy. At dinner, you didn’t even talk for the first half, you were busy stuffing your mouth and chugging water down. Once you finally felt full you sighed in relief and decided to join the conversation around you. You looked up and saw Pansy mock you by acting like she was stuffing her face, and she then pushed her nose up as if to call you a pig. Her table all burst into laughter, except Draco, who saw how annoyed you were. He shoved Pansy, “Shut it, Pansy”, “or what, Draco?” she stopped laughing but still looked amused. “Or I could do this” he swished his wand and jinxed her with a pig tail. She gasped loudly and cried. “God, just when I thought you couldn’t be more annoying, you cry!” Draco rolled his eyes and reversed the jinx. Everyone around was laughing at Pansy including you and the rest of the Hufflepuffs, she deserved it after bullying everyone for so long. You laughed so hard you snorted which caused you to laugh even more. Draco heard your laugh and the little snort, it made him happy that he was the reason behind your laughter. Whereas, you wondered why Draco would defend you, perhaps he began liking you now… you brushed the thought off and decided just to enjoy the moment with your friends.

The quidditch teams released the new roster for the new season, everyone huddled around their house’s paper to see who would be on the team. You jumped with joy when you saw your name written on the page. Your friends celebrated with you patting you on the back and giving you high fives. “Congrats.” a voice says from behind. You had just now finished staring at the page and began walking towards the common room. You spin around and see Draco leaned against the wall. “Thanks, and thanks for giving me the courage to try out” you walk in his direction. “Oh, and thanks for defending me against Pansy… I know she’s your friend and all” you say with your hands behind your back. “Oh Merlin no, Pansy is most definitely not my friend - she’s more like a parasite I can’t get rid of,” you tilt your head a bit confused at the declaration that Draco and Pansy weren’t friends. “but you’re welcome”. Draco says acknowledging your thanks.

“Have you told your parents?” he asks. “Not yet but I plan on writing a letter to them tonight via my friend’s owl.” you inform him as you both start walking to the Hufflepuff common room. “You ought to get an owl, they come in handy quite often” he says as you stop walking. You glare at him, “I’ve told you Draco, my family is not wealthy.” Draco blushes. “I truly am sorry, I forgot you had told me.” he apologizes. “It’s fine, I just don’t like being reminded.” you say as you start walking again. “Wanna come in?” you ask. He looks hesitant, “uhhhhh, are you sure that’s alright?” he asks. “Of course it is, so long as you have permission from a Hufflepuff and it’s before curfew.” you assure him. He still looks hesitant but takes your word for it and walks inside. He looks around and admires the room, “wow, very… yellow.” he states. “Yes, that is our house color after all.” you tease. “Yellow is the color of the sun and the sun makes you happy, it’s been scientifically proven” you tell him as you sit down on the couch. “Seriously? Perhaps that’s why Snape is so moody, his room is incredibly dark” he jokes as he sits besides you. “I just wanted to say that I really am sorry for telling you to get an owl again” you smile and roll your eyes “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“So, tell me y/n, what’s the y/l/n family history?” he asks, getting comfortable on the couch. “Is this your way of asking if my family is pure-blood?” you question. “..Yes” Draco says after a brief silence. “Is that how you judge someone? Whether they're pure blood or not?” you ask. “Not me, persay but my father would kill me if he found out i was friends with anyone other than a pure blood wizard” he says. “Friends?” you ask. Draco blushes, “I.. never said friends..” he lies. “Sure you didn’t” you say. “Whether I did or didn’t is besides the point, can you answer the question?” he says defensively and you look shocked and upset at how aggressive he sounded. “Sorry, can you answer the question, please?” he corrected himself. “Yes, my family is pure-blood but we do not believe it makes us superior to other families that are not.” you say crossing your arms. “I don’t either!” he says pointing a finger in the air. “Really?” you say with your arms still crossed, “Is that why you call people a mudblood every chance you get?” you ask and Draco’s face turns red. “I don’t believe it makes me superior but calling them that makes me feel as if I am.” Draco pouts, “That’s what father told me call them anyways” he adds on looking away from you. Draco was embarrassed by you calling him out but he surprisingly wasn’t mad at you, instead he was hoping you would forgive him for things he did to other people! He couldn’t help but be confused as to why he was thinking the way he was.

“Look Draco, there must be other ways to make you feel better than putting others down.” you say laying a hand on his shoulder, he raises his hand and hovers over yours. You gulp, expecting him to roughly grasp your wrist like he had before, but he just moves your hand lower so he could hold it. Your heart rate increased and your hands became sweaty so you let go of his hand. “Sorry, I didn't mean to cross a boundary” he says scooting further away from you. “No, it's just that, you and I, umm well it’s because I didn’t want my, errr..” you fumble on your words and Draco giggles at you. His giggle was so cute, you had never heard it before so you were taken aback. “God, you are so funny, y/n” he says pushing lightly on your shoulder, you laugh along with him. You begin discussing school assignments and he groans, “I forgot all about that!” he throws his hand up in defeat when you mention homework that’s due on Tuesday. “It’ll be alright!” you say, “I’ll help you if you want?” you offer. “That sounds good, but it’s way too late to start on it right now.” he says looking outside the window. “Speaking of it being late, I should really go and make up an excuse as to why I’ve been missing for so long” he says standing up, putting his hand out to help you get up off the couch. You take his hand and get up. “Alright, I’ll talk to you after class to discuss when we can work on that homework” you say, walking Draco out. “Bye” you wave and he waves back and walks away.

You close the door and skip towards your dorm. Your friend Lili was waiting at the door, “Y’know I saw you and Draco talking out there..” she says with her hand on her hip. “It was strictly academic” you lie and sit on your bed. “Sure, is that why you didn’t realize the dozen people walking in and out?” she asks. “People walked by?!” you say surprised. “Exactly.” she says. You blush and lay down realizing that she was right. You were so infatuated with Draco that you were oblivious to your surroundings. Lili was already dressed for bed, “Are you going to bed already?” you ask. “It’s 9pm y/n…” she looks at you confused. You panic when you see the time. “How is it so late?” you ask aloud. Lili shushes you. “I’m going to bed, try not to make so much noise, please.” she requests. You get off your bed and begin taking off your day clothes and change into your pajamas. You go to bed and dream of Draco.

It’s sunny and you’re laying under a tree with Draco by your side. You’re holding hands and looking up at the sky, pointing out clouds and telling each other what you think they look like. “I know you said the sun makes you happy, but I think it’s you that makes me happy, y/n” he says turning his head to look at you. You turn to face his and his face is so close to yours. You smile and begin dragging your face across the grass to kiss him. Your lips are about to touch, when…

Lili is shaking you. “GET UP Y/N” she yells with your alarm blaring in the background. You sit up and rub your eyes, “why are you yelling” you ask upset that she ruined your dream. “Because it’s almost breakfast and I’m not leaving you here to sleep the day away” she says fully dressed. You groan and roll out of bed to get ready. The only good thing about waking up is that you’ll see Draco in a little.

Once you feel presentable, you go into the common room where Lili looks annoyed, “About time!” she says. “Let’s go already, my stomach is growling” she says rushing you out the door. During breakfast you make eye contact with Draco occasionally, his eyes were so beautiful, you wanted to stare into them forever., but you don’t because you didn't want to scare Draco away. Finally, it was time for Caring for Magical Creatures and you hopped outside with your bag hanging off your shoulder. “Now, t’day we’re lookin’ at the bow truckle” Hagrid said walking the class near the Forbidden forest. “I ask of all of ye, do not try to come up ter bowtruckles without my permission and supervision!” Hagrid announces, standing next to a tree. “They like ter eat woodlice, or fairy eggs” he informs as he offers woodlice to the tree, the class looks confused until the bowtruckle moves to eat the woodlice. “They’re the tree’s guardians, ye see in order to get the wood for some of ye’s wands, we have to distract these fellers to get the wood” he says as the bowtruckle climbs on his arm. “This one ‘ere trust me, but it takes years to gain their trust” he says, continuing to feed the bowtruckle.

“What’s so dangerous about them? That thing is the same size as a quill!” Draco asks. “Does anyone ‘ere know why bowtruckles are so dangerous?” Hagrid asks the class. You raise your hand eagerly, excited to teach the pretty boy. “Let's hear it y/n” Hagrid encourages. “They are peaceful until you try to get wood from their tree, in that case they are known to try and gouge your eyes out, which is why you have to offer them woodlice or fairy eggs to distract them!” you say. Your class nods and begins writing it down. Hagrid claps “Good job, y/n!” you smile up at Hagrid and glance over to Draco who is smirking at you.

it was time to go to the library to help Draco write his paper, you sat at a table with a stack of books by your side. “Please tell me you do not expect me to read all of those books tonight” Draco says upon his arrival. You smile and shake your head. “Good.” he says sitting down besides you. “Now your paper is meant to be on why Knotgrass is used in polyjuice potions and what role it plays in the potion” you ask Draco and he nods. “Okay, this shouldn’t be too hard.”

After reviewing the polyjuice potion and the ingredients and reading a book about Knotgrass, it only took you two hours to write a well written paper on Knotgrass in Polyjuice Potions. “Wow, thanks so much y/n” Draco thanks as he looks up from his paper, he’s probably read it dozens of times at this point. “What was your paper on?” he asks. You yawn and take your paper out, “How does Sneezewort cause recklessness in the Befuddlement Draught and cause energy boosts in the Strong Invigoration Draught?”. “Do you mind if I read it?” he asks. You hand him your paper and watch him as he reads. You see his eyes moving across the pages, “You understand herbology and creatures so well y/n” he hands you your paper back. “Thank you Draco, that was really nice to say. I heard you’re really good at potions and I know you’re good at flying too” you compliment him back in return. “By the way, is there any way I could repay you for your help?” he asks. “Yes,” you say and his eyes widen, eager to fulfill your request, “walk me to my dorm, I’m falling asleep as we speak!” he smiles and walks you to the Hufflepuff common room. “Thank you, your debt is cleared” you joke and he waves goodbye as you enter. You practically collapse on your bed the second you’re changed into your pajamas.

It was Wednesday and time for Quidditch practice, you were in conversation with Cedric when you heard your favorite voice, “move over Cedric, I need to talk to y/n” you glared at Draco, trying to tell him that he was being impolite. “....please?” Draco adds confused but when you smile and nod he relaxes. “Why are you here Draco?” you ask. “Because you never told me how I could make it up to you last night” he responds. “I already told you—“ you’re cut off. “I got you the Nimbus 2001” he says bringing forth the broom he was hiding behind his back. You gasp, “Draco, this is.. too much! Why would you do this? Are you mad?!” you scream at him as you hold the broom in your hand. “I thought you’d be happy?” he says confused. “I am but I’m not because I’ll never be able to pay you back for this!” you hand the broom back. “I don’t want you to pay me back, I just want you to have it,” he says smiling. “Why?” you ask, extremely confused by his kind gesture. “So that you have no excuse when I win against you!” he laughs and walks away. You’re completely thrown off but your teammates are shouting for you to join them. You run over to share the news, they’re amazed, not only at how great the gift was but amazed at who gave you the gift.

It was the day of the first match: Slytherins vs Hufflepuffs. “Look y/n, this is going to be a fair game,” Draco says before you go and join your teams. “I’m not gonna let you win on purpose,” he tells you.

“You don’t have too, I am not going to go easy on you either, I am going to destroy you!” you scoff. You shake hands and head off.

Slytherin has a lead, a pretty big lead, your team is struggling and you know their only hope right now is for you to catch the snitch. You’re scanning the sky and squinting your eyes hoping to find the flying snitch. You catch a glimpse of the snitch and dart in its direction, Draco follows behind, looking for the snitch you found first. You push Draco away and try to lead him the wrong direction. You turn quickly and reach your arm out to catch the snitch, Draco is trailing behind, desperately trying to catch up. You catch the snitch and the crowd becomes loud, cheering your name. It was the first game Hufflepuff won against the Slytherins in years. Your team huddles around you and celebrates.

A party is planned to celebrate the big win, everyone is invited. The Slytherins obviously decline, upset at their loss, you figure one Slytherin might be interested. “Want to come to the party tonight?” you invite Draco. “I’m not really much of a party person, but is it really a party if Hufflepuffs are hosting?” he says accepting your offer.

Everyone is out of their school uniforms, wearing something casual. Draco walks in wearing all black and is thrown off by how many drunk people are in attendance. You approach him, “I thought you weren’t going to come anymore” you say slurring your words, hugging the confused boy. He awkwardly chuckles as you walk with your hand around his neck. “Want a drink?” you offer, “Depends, how many did you have?” he asks. “Uhhh, like 7!” you giggle taking another sip, “this will be number 8.” you add on. “Sure,

I’ll have one drink” he grabs a cup and begins drinking.

“I’m so tired” you whisper in his ear. “Do you need help getting to your bed?” he asks. You nod and he wraps his hand around your waist to help you get to your room. You lay on your bed and Draco begins walking out, “Don’t leave” you ask. “What’s wrong?” he asks, kneeling besides you. “I said I was tired, not sleepy. You just got here, talk to me.” you say smiling at him. He smiles back at you, “You know, I let you win” he joked. You laughed, “As if!”

“I would’ve won the game if you weren’t so distracting” he said twirling your hair. You furrow your eyebrows, “What did I do?” you ask. “Nothing, you’re just so pretty it’s hard to focus” he says, giving you a warm smile. “Why are you saying this to me, Draco?” you ask, confused by him being so loving. “Because you won’t remember this in the morning, sweetheart. You are far too plastered” he says. Your heart flutters when he calls you sweetheart. “I will Draco, I will remember” you tell him, as his hand caresses your face. You yawn and stretch your arms, “Sleepy now?” he asks, you nod and he stands up. “Goodnight y/n” he kisses your forehead and turns the light off as he leaves your dorm. You’re going to remember this, there’s no way you could ever forget how Draco just made you feel.

#Draco Malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco fluff #draco

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amintyworld · 4 years

Text

It’s a Wonderful Life, Tommy - Dream SMP Holiday Oneshot

A/N: So this started as an imagine that I wanted to do a bullet fic for, but I got carried away and kind of, sort of, wrote an 11-page fic? So, sorry for the extra setup at the beginning. It’s inspired off two of my favorite Christmas movies: ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘A Christmas Carol’ and I ended up with a pretty good even blend of the two, and I’m pretty proud of this. Here’s my Christmas gift to the fandom, I hope you enjoy! So, grab your hot cocoa and Christmas cookies, settle into a blanket and enjoy this holiday tale. -Minty

Summary: After a nasty fight with Tubbo combined with Tommy’s worsening depression, its Tommy’s final straw as he decides he’s ready to give up. But, it looks like Tommy’s condition and situation has gotten some supernatural attention.

TW: Suicide attempt, talks of suicide, heavy blood and gore, manipulation and blame, major character deaths(?), insanity. (Please tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

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Imagine it’s Christmas Eve but he didn’t end up going with Technoblade and he’s still alone. He’s still as depressed as ever, and on top of all of that, he had an argument when Tubbo tried to visit that ended worse than anything Tommy ever imagined.

Tommy’s trying his best to enjoy the holiday and ends up wandering around, stumbling upon Technoblade’s house - where Ghostbur and Techno are both singing carols while decorating a tree. Tommy’s heart aches with loneliness as he quickly leaves before anyone could see him through the window. No one had left him any presents (Dream burned them all secretly) and he kept looking over Dream’s gift - a white porcelain mask with eyes and no mouth, like Dream’s. Dream claimed in his note that things were getting dangerous and it was to keep him safe and hide his identity. Something about it felt off, though.

He didn’t want to assume the worst of his friend, but it seemed more like a gift Dream wanted him to have instead of something he wanted. That’s why after a while of just holding it and tracing over the details with his fingers he put it away in his chest. He climbed his tower again and was getting ready to aim for the top of a tree, done with everything - with trying to hope when everything he ever had, his friends and family, were gone. He kept searching for a point to his suffering and found none, so he decided to finally end things for good.

A voice called out to him. It was Phil.

“It’s not really the season for giving up hope, now is it?”

Tommy was of course startled, as a floating spirit in the form of what looks like Philza, his dad, flying and floating in front of him... with wings? Tommy is trying to compose himself while trying to discern whether or not his ‘thing’ is real - touching his shoulder only to touch absolutely nothing, yelling at it to see if it’s a demon, while the spirit is nonetheless, unimpressed. “What are you? Are you really Phil, or am i just... hallucinating again?”

“I am quite real - you can call me your guide of sorts. I’ve taken the form of your loved one to make you feel more at ease. Anyway, Tommyinnit, I’m sent here to stop you from jumping from this pillar.”

“Why exactly should I listen to you? For all I know, you’re just another weird vision like Tubbo was. I’m really tired of my messed up mind, just go away.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Tommy. It’s my sworn duty to step in here, for your behalf.”

“My behalf?! I assure you, whoever you are, I’d be happier dead than to live without anyone who really cares about me.”

“How about a deal then? I will show you three places, events, and if I can’t change your mind, I’ll leave you alone.”

“No lying?”

“Why would I?”

“Okay, sure.” Tommy still didn’t think any of this was real, but he was honestly curious where this weird dream was going. The Guide took Tommy’s hand and told him to trust him, and they both jumped, Tommy yelling, confused, as he fell, fell, fell, preparing for impact and probably death, instead of falling into... snow?

He shivered and looked around - how is the sun up, it was the night a few seconds ago...? The Guide took his hand with a comforting smile and led him through the trees when Tommy froze in his tracks. A house... he KNEW that house. “Look familiar?”

Shouts nearby made his head whip around as a snowball raced toward him. He braced for impact, but it didn’t hit him. Instead, it hit a tree trunk behind him. Laughter filled the air as he heard a familiar voice behind him yell. “HA, your aim is shit, Tommy!” He saw a young version of Technoblade rush through the bushes, and... that was him... a young version of him in the trees, snowball in hand, angry at his missed shot.

“Yeah, well I still have the high ground, you arsehole!” He noticed a young Tubbo next to him, a snowball in each hand wearing a green coat that was way too big for him. He laughed, remembering it - Phil didn’t have money for a new coat for Tubbo that year, so he gave him his older one to use, and the poor kid kept falling over and tripping on it. Tubbo handed Tommy another snowball as they both pelted the snowballs down as Techno rushed into some cover behind a rock.

“This is Christmas by the lake, where Phil grew up. But, how can I see it, that was over six years ago-?” Tommy turned to the guide who showed him who his whole body turned translucent.

“In order to show you events, we must travel to that point in time, but we’ll only be observers, we can’t interact with them.”

Tommy looked over as Technoblade pelted Tommy with a snowball hard, making him lose his balance and fall to the snowy ground below. “This is unreal, it’s so clear, how can I recall this in a dream...?”

“I told you, I am a spirit Tommy, your Guide.” Looking around at it all, Tommy couldn’t help but to start to believe him. The smell of gingerbread filled his nose from the house as Wilbur walked out, his hands in the air.

“Okay guys, Phil told me to tell you to come inside-” Before his older brother could even finish his sentence, three snowballs hit him square in the face. “Hey, I’m not even playing!”

“You’re in the kill zone, Wil!” Tubbo shouted from the treetops as if that would explain everything.

“Ugh, why are you all so annoying-”

Techno smirked, looking over at his brother from his spot covered by the rock. “Aw, come on, don’t be a buzzkill Wilby.” Wilbur stopped at the nickname and turned with a fire in his eyes.

“I’ll show you buzzkill-!” He shouted as he threw a snowball at Techno, running for his own cover.

“Look at you, surrounded by your family, your best friend - it seems like you all love each other a lot.”

“Well, of course, we’re family.” Tommy paused, realizing what he said and quickly correcting himself. “At least, we were.” He watched the scene unfold - Philza called them in for cookies and cocoa and they all rushed into the house. While running, Tubbo tripped on his coat and fell again, and Tommy saw himself stay back and help Tubbo to his feet with a smile.

“I bet Tubbo appreciated your friendship, especially then.”

“Well, I knew what it was like to be the new kid in the family, you know? It’s awkward and weird at first to settle into. You’re by yourself for so long it’s hard to get used to being around people all the time who give you so much affection.” He walked over toward the window and looked inside - Phil put on some Christmas music that blasted through the player and Techno covered his ears, begging for something different, making everyone laugh. Wilbur pulled out his guitar as Technoblade practically slammed the ‘stop’ button on the player.

“All of you look close.”

“We are- were,” Tommy said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, none of this does - even if they cared for me and loved me then, doesn’t mean they do now.”

“I thought you said family loved each other no matter what.” The Guide said smoothly. “Why would it make sense for them to stop loving you now?”

“I don’t know...” Tommy breathed, his mind confused and questioning. “Maybe we’re not family. Maybe we... maybe we never were. Anyways, you’ve shown me enough of this to count for the deal, let’s just move on.”

“Hold on, we’re gonna miss my favorite part.” The Guide said as Philza came in with a Santa hat.

“As per tradition in the Sleepy Boys Incorporated Household, me - the Grand Master - shall decide who gets to receive an extra special gift to open before Christmas Day.” Wilbur bounced excitedly on the couch, and Tommy crossed his fingers as they waited. “I have tallied the points-”

“I still think there’s no point system-” Technoblade mumbled as Philza continued.

“And this year, the wearer of the special Santa hat goes to... Tommy!” Phil said as he tossed it over to the boy, who smiled widely. “For your extra help around the house and chores, this year’s for you, buddy.”

“Yay, Tommy!” Wilbur said from the couch as Technoblade smiled and nodded in approval. Tubbo clapped and cheered - this was the first year Tommy had ever been given the hat. Outside the window, Tommy crossed his arms and looked at the snow, knowing what was going to happen next. Young Tommy smiled wide as he clutched the Santa hat in his hands. He looked over to Tubbo for a moment, then to the hat, unknown thoughts in his head. Then, he handed it out to Tubbo.

“Here. You can have it.”

Tubbo looked confused. “But Tommy, you worked so hard for this - you did extra chores, you helped out Wilbur when his beanie got stuck in the tree... you didn’t curse for an entire week!”

“I know.” He smiled, turning into a smirk. “But, you know, if it was that easy for me to get it this year, I can always get it again. And, since it was harder for you, if I don’t give you the hat now, you probably won’t get it until you’re Phil’s age.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Philza shouted as he carried in a large gift-wrapped box to set on the table.

“But Tommy-” Tubbo tried to interject, but Tommy threw him the hat.

“Come on, I insist,” Tommy said, and the two best friends hugged each other tightly. Outside, Tommy looked at the scene, pressing his hand up against the glass, his heart aching uncomfortably, not being able to tear his eyes away from the tender moment. He turned to the spirit, emotion, and anger on his face.

“Tubbo exiled me, he burned his compass, he didn’t show up to my beach party, he didn’t even come to see me.” His eyes looked cold. “He’s NOT my best friend, let alone my friend!”

The spirit looked calm. “I see.” He slowly turned and began to walk away into the forest swiftly, leaving Tommy scrambling to catch up.

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“Spirit... Guide... whatever you are, wait up!” Tommy shouted as he sprinted after the figure through the trees, suddenly being caught by his shirt before he fell into the water. He looked around and noticed he was in L’manburg - the moon just how he left it when the spirit took him to the past. He noticed the Chinese lanterns, the dock, the houses - it wasn’t just L’manburg, it was New L’manburg. The spirit walked up the steps silently and Tommy was quick to follow. “We’re in the present, in L’manburg, but why?”

“I thought you’d be curious to see how your former friend is celebrating tonight - a look without the trouble of trying to hide or break the rules.” The spirit said simply, before holding out his hand for Tommy to take. “Hold on tightly, please.” Tommy gripped the spirit’s hand as he was dragged through a few walls, freaking out a bit until he realized that he was in the same state as a ghost, or like the spirit called it, an observer - so he couldn’t suffocate.

Whatever Tommy was expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. A room filled with torn posters of Technoblade pasted along the walls calling him all sorts of bad things, and a wooden table in the center with four people sitting around it, Tubbo among them. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea anymore, Big Q. With what Dream’s done to Tommy, what if he gets caught in all this?”

Quackity looked upset, his eyes narrowed. “Tubbo, this is our one and only chance to get revenge for our country, and you’re saying to stop all of our work for the small chance, chance that Tommy will show up?”

“He’s a L’manburg citizen, Quackity. As president, it’s my job to protect every citizen-”

“You’d sacrifice the country, Mr. President, everything we’ve worked for, for one person?!” Quackity snapped. Tommy looked on with piqued interest, noticing how both Ranboo and Fundy sunk down a bit on their chairs from the building tension in the room. Tubbo got up and leaned in so he and Quackity’s faces were inches apart.

“Yes, I would. I’m not going to be responsible for anyone becoming a ghost on my account, Quackity.” Tubbo snapped. “I draw the line at risking innocent lives.”

Tommy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Even after they yelled at each other, screamed at each other, he... he still... cares?

“I’m questioning your true loyalty to your country, Mr. President - it seems your loyalties lie elsewhere. What kind of President wouldn’t be willing to do anything, make any sacrifice, for the betterment of the country?”

“One like Schlatt. Wilbur maybe. But not me.”

“Then, Mr. President, you’re nothing but a traitor.” Quackity said, pulling out his sword and pointing it at Tubbo. “I’m taking you under arrest.” Tubbo slowly put his hands up, looking over to Fundy and Ranboo, who both looked distraught and stayed silent.

“Quackity, you’re insane. You’re going to destroy L’manburg to kill Techno and Dream, you’re going to destroy everything we’ve worked to save.” Tubbo protested, but his cries fell on deaf ears as Quackity forced him to give him his stuff and armor.

Tommy’s mind whirred. “Tubbo still cares about me. Even after everything, he’s still my friend.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I...I can’t believe it.”

“It’s a shame you don’t think the same of him.”

Tommy was quick to respond. “I do, I have, it’s just he’s done so much against me - he burned the compass, he didn’t show up to the beach party-”

Tommy looked over just in time to see Quackity close the jail cell loudly - there was barely enough room for Tubbo to sit or even stand. Tubbo’s hands clutched the bars. “Quackity, don’t do this. Do you even understand what Dream and Techno are capable of?!”

Quackity glared at him. “Of course I do, which is why I need to dispose of them since our leader is too much of a coward to do it himself. Come on guys, we have a festival to prepare for.” Fundy and Ranboo were silent as they passed him, bowing their heads in shame. Tommy walked closer with the spirit to see him pull out...the compass...

The enchanted compass, the matching one to the one Tommy had in his own chest. The one Dream said he burned. That didn’t make any sense, Dream said he- Dream. “Are you tricking me?”

“Why would I do that, Tommy? We made a deal.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, Tubbo shouldn’t have the compass, it’s supposed to be burned!”

“Ah. Maybe that was the claim that led you astray?”

Tommy silently looked down at Tubbo as he held the compass in his hands, tears welling up in Tubbo’s eyes. “Guess you were right, Tommy. I’m so sorry…” Tommy had no words, thoughts running through his head. This didn’t make any sense. Dream wouldn’t lie to him, he’s his friend. Even so, emotion welled up in his eyes as his stomach formed in knots.

“Dream wouldn’t lie to me. Stop trying to trick me, I know this isn’t real.”

“But I promised you I’d only show the truth, didn’t I?”

“But this can’t be true - Tubbo’s compass is supposed to be burned, he’s not supposed to cry for me, he's supposed to hate me, they’re all supposed to hate me!”

“What if they don’t, Tommy, and they never have?”

“Even if they didn’t...even if they cared, I’ve caused too much trouble - all of this started because of me. So, wouldn’t it be better if I was gone?” The spirit held out his hand to Tommy.

“Do you want to find out?”

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

After a few moments of hesitation, Tommy took the Spirit’s hand, and quickly was dragged upwards through the wall, into darkness, the spirit’s wings taking them up, up, up, and suddenly… he found himself on the ground. Thunder rolled in his ears as a light shower of rain began to fall toward the ground. He was on a mountain, and his hands gripped the soggy grass between his fingers, feeling the realness of it all. He looked around for his winged spirit but found no one. L’manburg stood around him, and he walked down the dock, noticing a crowd of people gathered around a memorial of sorts.

Curious, he crept closer. Who’s memorial was it? It looked nice too - a small stone cover from the rain, vines and flowers growing all around it. He started to worry - did his death cause someone else’s? He looked over at the crowd - he noticed Skeppy holding Bad close as he cried, and there was Puffy and Ant, who looked dazed by it all, their faces solemn. Oh, over there was Quackity - he crossed his arms and looked to the floor. Fundy sat next to George and Sapnap - his eyebrows furrowed in thought. George held Sapnap’s hand in comfort as tears slid down their cheeks every now and then. Punz and Ponk were in the back.. Oh, there was Ranboo!

His half-enderman friend was shaking, as Ghostbur stood at his side and did his best to comfort him, though even Tommy could tell the ghost was more than distraught over it all. Tommy walked closer… wait, was that Technoblade?! What was he doing here…? Isn’t he wanted in L’manburg? Even more surprising, was the tear staining glisten in his eyes - Technoblade was crying. It was an odd sight indeed to see his tough friend weep, but Philza was at his side to pull him close, tears rolling down his cheeks as well.

“He was a hero for L’manburg, and made numerous sacrifices for our country. More than that, he was an uncle, a son, a brother, and a friend to many who knew him.” There was Tubbo, speaking at the podium looking the saddest Tommy had ever seen him. His hands gripped the wood tightly as he shook slightly. “Though he was not with us for long, I think it’s clear to see when I look around this room he touched more lives than he knew. He was brave, strong, and an inspiration to many as someone who encompassed the true values of our nation.. He may be gone, but will always live on in our memories and in our hearts.”

Tommy’s heart dropped as he read the sign: ‘Tommyinnit, joined July 2020, died December 2020. A friend taken too soon.’ This was his memorial, all of them were here… this was HIS funeral! He noticed how Tubbo’s shaking grew more noticable as tears streamed from his eyes that left drops where his speech was prepared. Philza walked up and they both hugged each other tightly, Phil rubbing his back as Tubbo let out a sob and the two walked back to sit with the rest.

Slowly, one by one people began to walk up to a buried spot on the ground - his green bandana was tied tightly to the side as it waved in the wind like a flag. He watched as Ghostbur walked up and left some blue flowers at his grave. “I hope you’re happier, wherever you are. Here’s some blue - I got extra so you won’t run out.” Tommy’s eyes threatened to spill with tears as Ghostbur put a hand on his gravestone. “Both Alivebur and I love you very much, and we’ll miss you a lot, but don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine! I’ll try to take care of Tubbo for you, okay?”

“Okay..” Tommy choked out as a tear slid down his cheek. Ranboo walked up to sit next to Ghostbur, silent. Ghostbur gave him a hug, which he returned before Ghostbur left, walking back into the crowd of people talking.

“I really should have noticed it sooner, shouldn’t I?” Ranboo said. “I should’ve been there more, did more, did anything… but I… I’m so sorry, Tommy.” His hands were shaking as they reached out toward the gravestone but stopped short of touching it. “You did so much for me, you protected me, and I… I couldn’t even do the same for you. I’m a pretty bad friend, aren’t I?”

“No, no.” Though Ranboo couldn’t hear him or see him, Tommy put his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder as he tried his best not to try, sniffling. “You were the best friend I could ever ask for. You were there for me whenever I needed you. This isn’t your fault.”

Both heard steps behind them and turned to notice Techoblade standing there, no clear emotion in his face. Ranboo quickly left, intimidated by the pig hybrid as he disappeared back into the crowd. Technoblade took his crown off as he approached, kneeling in front of the gravestone, silent for a few moments. “I wish we were closer. I wish I would’ve been there to help you before it was too late. I… I wish you knew how much I loved you, but I guess we’re both too similar when it comes to admitting something like that, huh?” Technoblade smiled a bit before it quickly fell. “I know I didn’t agree with your choices, but that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t help you, I should’ve let you know that.” Tommy stood, stunned at Technoblade’s words - that he loved him, that he’d miss him. Techno pulled out a folded cloth. “I was going to give you it for Christmas, but Dream had other plans. I’m sorry, it’s the only present I saved from the lava.” Technoblade set it down next to the flowers. “It’s a cape like mine, see? Wilbur kept telling me how cold you were in exile. Partly it was because of that, the other part was because I was too annoyed when you kept trying to steal mine-” Technoblade sniffled, a few tears going down his cheeks that landed in the dirt below. Philza walked up and gave him a tight hug.

“Shh, Techno. It’s okay. I know he would’ve loved it.” Philza said, comforting his eldest. “Now go talk to Ghostbur and make sure he doesn’t wander off with Friend.” Techno just nodded, taking one last look at the grave and placing his hand on the stone, turning and walking off.

Philza was by far the quietest one of all, running his fingers over the soft green bandana and the top of the gravestone. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he took out a small photo in his pocket. It was an old Christmas photo from so long ago - Technoblade had Tommy up on his shoulders, Wilbur was standing at attention in a salute, holding back a laugh as Tubbo chased his scarf, Philza taking a sort of selfie with the camera, the chaos showing in the background. He wedged it in Technoblade’s cloak. “Here, don’t forget us - the good parts of us.” Philza said softly. “Don’t forget that we’ll always love you, no matter what.” Philza wiped away a few tears from his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever know why you did this, and I don’t think I’ll ever really know. I’m sorry I wasn’t a good father to you, and I hope you’re at peace wherever you are.” Philza took a deep breath getting ready to leave when a loud crash interrupted him.

Tommy, still trying to compose himself and wipe away his tears from his family and friend’s sentiments, looked up in surprise to see Tubbo pissed off, being held back by Technoblade and Puffy, Ghostbur trying to calm him down. Dream got up from his place on the ground, a large crack forming on his white mask. Tubbo yelled, shouted and kicked. “He doesn’t GET to be here, he’s lucky I don’t kill him right now! He’s the one who killed him, he doesn’t get to go near him again!”

Ghostbur looked nervous when Tubbo smacked the blue he offered out of his hand. “Tubbo calm yourself, please, for Tommy-!”

“I didn’t push him off that tower, did I, Tubbo?” Dream’s words were sharp and calm, traced with anger. Everyone fell silent, as Dream approached the President. “I didn’t do anything, if anything, he died because of all of you - you could have stopped me, you could have visited, and you did nothing-”

Without hesitation, Tubbo decked him across the face, his mask flying toward the ground, and suddenly blonde messy hair and piercing green eyes started down at him. “You told him lies, you manipulated him, you made him think he was alone. We may have not done much, even if we knew what you were doing, but at least we didn’t drive him into that depression, Dream. That’s all on you, and you fucking know it.” Tubbo pointed a finger at his chest. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here after everything you did to him. I don’t want you here and I know that he sure as well wouldn’t either.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “So you either leave or we’re settling this right here, right now.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. President?” Dream smirked. “Not a very wise decision - I’ve beaten you before, I’ve taken everything away from you and watched you beg for mercy.”

“That’s what you don’t understand, Dream.” Tubbo said. “You’ve taken so much away from me I have nothing left to lose.” Dream pulled out his sword but a heavy smack from Tubbo sent it to the floor. “You underestimate just how far I’m willing to go, Dream. You think you’ve seen me upset, seen me angry? You haven’t seen even a fraction of it. I will stop at nothing for Tommy - I don’t even care if you kill me, all I care about is that you’re going down with me.” For the first time in his life, fear flew across Dream’s face.

“Tubbo. Leave Dream alone, he’s not worth it.” Philza said as he turned Tubbo away from Dream and glared down at him. “Just get out of here, Dream.”

“Tubbo never really was the same again after you left.” The guiding spirit turned Tommy’s attention to the side, where he sat at the top of the dome memorial. “You mean a lot to him, and losing you after L’manburg fell to Dream, it was the last straw.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Dream owns L’manburg?! That’s impossible, Tubbo would never allow that to happen.”

“He didn’t.” The spirit replied. “Quackity led the charge against Dream and failed, nearly destroying the nation again before legally surrendering it to Dream. Ranboo was going to let Tubbo out of his cell to help, but when he didn’t hear from you he decided to check on you instead and found your body. As always, Dream traded Quackity L’manburg for something he wanted more than anything - the power to revive Schlatt.”

“Revive Schlatt?!” Tommy’s eyes widened. “Dream knew how to do it all along. So why didn’t he revive Wilbur…?”

“It wasn’t of use to him.” The spirit said. “When you died, L’manburg died with you. Philza fell into a deep depression after losing two of his sons to his own hands, and Technoblade… he went mad.”

“Technoblade went crazy…?!”

The spirit pointed around the corner as they jumped once again, landing on the dock as screams of agony echoed throughout the country. Tommy looked around in disbelief as red blood splattered the ground. He noticed Niki run past him toward the bridge, terrified. A dark shadow passed overhead and Technoblade landed in front of her with a wide smile and crazy eyes. “Where are you going, Niki…?”

“N-nowhere, I was just going to go fishing…”

“Really…? If I knew any better, I would have thought you were trying to leave.” Techno’s eyes narrowed. “You know how Dream feels about people breaking his rules.”

“Technoblade, I’m sorry, please… I promise, I won’t come near the docks ever again-!” Niki pleaded as Techno’s laugh echoed through the walls, turning into… crying? Technoblade sobbed as he leaned on his trident as a sort of staff. Niki approached, sympathetic.

“I want him back, Niki. I just want him back.” Technoblade said. “I’d do anything for him, any goddamn thing…” The crying stopped as Techno looked up, eyes full of anger. “Even if that means ripping the guts out of some lying two-faced bitch who didn’t care enough to save him. Come here you little-!” He charged at Niki, and she took off again, screaming, crying for help.

“N-no… Technoblade stop-!” Tommy cried, but Techno didn’t hear him as he snatched her up and beheaded her in one rip, sending blood everywhere. Niki’s painful screams filled his ears.

“Tubbo managed to take Dream down, and they both died in one of his death traps. Now, thanks to his manipulation, Technoblade is a bloodthirsty warrior with no master to serve. He clings to the bit of sanity he has left, not being able to deal with the guilt of being responsible for your death, so he blames others.”

“This can’t be true. Surely if I died some good would come from it.” Tommy said.

“The only good that would come of your death would be Dream’s, who thanks to Tubbo died much earlier than he was supposed to, and in turn saved his people from another tyrannical ruler.” The spirit said. “As for Ghostbur, well…”

Tommy turned around to notice Ghostbur flying around, wondering in the bloody mess of L’manburg that was too eerily quiet for Tommy’s liking. The spirit was gone again, Tommy was alone. He followed Ghostbur as he stepped over dead bodies and looked inside houses. “Hey Technoblade?” Ghostbur called, looking around. “Hey Techno, I have a fun idea to prank Tubbo with, where are you?” He opened the door to Philza’s house. “Philza? Philza Minecraft?!” He called. “I can’t find Techno, do you know where he… oh, you’re not here either.” He knocked, door to door, calling out for everyone, but it was dead silent. “Quackity?! Niki…? Fundy, where are you?!”

Tommy reached to grab Ghostbur’s hand. “They’re not here, Wil. They’re dead.” But Ghostbur didn’t notice him in the slightest.

“Tubbo?! Fundy…?”

“Ghostbur, they’re dead. You gotta stop, they’re not here.” Tommy said solemnly. “They’re dead because of me, but you gotta stop looking, they’re gone-”

“Sapnap? Bad…?”

“Wilbur please.” Tommy begged. “They’re dead, you have to move on.”

“George…?”

“They’re dead, WIlbur.” Tommy snapped, beginning to cry. He looked around for his spirit friend. “Spirit, can you hear me? I want to go back, please let me go back. I don’t want this to happen, please! Can I change it? Is there still time?! I want to live!”

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

When he opened his eyes, he was in his bed in the tent, the morning sun just peaking above the horizon. He wiped a few tears off his cheeks. Was it all a dream… was it not real…? He scrambled for his calendar - Christmas Day. There’s still time. He could fix everything! He searched in his chest for the compass and his discs as he packed a bag - he looked over the mask for a second, before rushing outside and in a fit of rage, frisbees it into the ocean and watched it sink to the bottom. “Fuck you, Dream.” He cursed, feeling freer than he had in weeks.

He grabbed his bag and ran off into the forest toward the snow covered house he knew, picking up some blue cornflowers along the way. His heart felt light as he hummed Christmas carols, running along the path he knew until he saw Technoblade’s house in the distance. Running up to the door, he knocked, smiling. The house was decorated beautifully, and when Ghostbur opened the door he smiled. “Hello, Tommy!”

“Hey Ghostbur!” Tommy smiled. “Sorry it’s a bit early, but I just couldn’t wait to come over and say Merry Christmas!” Technoblade came over to the door, looking extremely confused.

“Tommy…?” Technoblade yawned before Tommy crashed into him with a hug, only making the older increasingly confused. “Um-”

“Merry Christmas, Technobade.” Tommy said happily, handing out the blue flowers to Ghostbur, his eyes lighting up as he smiled. “This is for you.”

“So much blue!” Ghostbur shook with excitement, taking the flowers in his hands. “They’re so pretty, thanks Tommy!”

“You’re welcome.” Tommy said, feeling a sense of dejia vu from it all. Technoblade smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wanna come inside? I was just about to make breakfast.” Technoblade’s voice was gentle, and for the first time in a long while Tommy felt really happy. Techno ushered him inside by the fire, insisting that he was turning blue out in the snow without a jacket. Ghostbur realized too quickly that Techno didn’t have a vase for the flowers, but with a bit of help from Tommy, he was beginning to weave a flower crown. It was nice to revisit that - he remembered how Philza taught them all how to weave flowercrowns when they were younger, and how to make an acorn whistle, which he quickly regretted. Tommy laughed as he remembered Phil’s face as all three of them whistled all the way home so loud they scared away any animals within a 100 mile radius, for sure.

Techboblade was quiet but content, relaxed, and happy. After a nice breakfast of eggs and toast - the first good breakfast Tommy had in ages, which he finished in record time - Wilbur stood under the tree to open gifts excitedly like he was a child again. As they all settled in, a quick knock on Technoblade’s door interrupted them. “Hello- Oh… hey Phil.”

To his surprise, Tommy and Wilbur couldn’t see their dad at all behind the large pile of wrapped boxes in his hands. His breaths were labored as he spoke. “I hope I’m not late-”

“No, no. In fact, you’re just on time.”

“I was looking for Tommy’s house everywhere and then I realized I went the wrong way, and then he wasn’t there-” Philza began, walking in as he noticed Tommy sitting on the floor. “Well, there you are.”

“Here I am.” Tommy said with a sheepish smile. “Do you need help with that?”

“Please.”

After all of Phil’s gifts were added to the growing collection under the tree, his father pulled Tommy in for a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re here. Christmas wouldn’t be the same with you, you know.”

“I’m glad you didn’t forget me.” Tommy admitted softly, and Phil squeezed around his middle a little tighter.

“Never.” Philza whispered in response, making the younger tear up a bit at the words in joy. When they both pulled away Tommy wiped his eyes, not being able to help his bright smile. “Alright, we’ve got some presents to open, don’t we?”

“We may have to do mine first, I didn't have much time to wrap-” Tommy said as he grabbed his bag and searched. Wilbur proudly showed off his Blue flower crown with glee, making the other two smile at his child-like cheer. Technoblade stilled as Tommy held out a diamond for him. “I’m sorry, I was in a bit of a hurry, I know you have netherite, if you don’t want it-”

“I love it, Tommy.” Technoblade said as he took the diamond and held it in his hands. “It means a lot to me you’d give me it. Thank you.” The two shared a smile before Techno’s face turned into a smirk. “Plus, you’re poor, it was the best you could do, anyway-”

And, as Philza admired and thanked Tommy for the stone sword, Tommy couldn’t help but notice a figure in the window, a figure he thought he’d never see again. His Guardian Spirit, looking inside from the window at the scene with a warm smile. As the spirit looked inside the joyful house, Tommy could distinctly recall a voice in his head echoing words that he’d never forget.

“It’s a wonderful life, isn’t it Tommy?”

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