#//heyo i hope this okay :)

[iobartach]

@magnetic-regent-magneto // continued from: x

For as much as his own ego would permit him, Miguel had liked to think that he wasn't easily startled-- at least when it came to normal encounters. But, in the case of certain exceptions, such thoughts had tended to buckle, losing traction the moment that he lays his sights upon a man that the historical record claimed had perished nearly a century ago, during the collapse of the previous Heroic Age.

"Glad we've got that covered." Pretending to agree for now, he hadn't missed that strained inflection, a tell-tale sign that he'd been sent from the past to the here and now. Displaced, on guard, and very much in receipt of the same abilities that had caused the mutant's record to be flagged as concerning by the systems that Miguel had sought to consult.

"Could always try the hard way if you prefer." Parting with a retort of his own invention, the Spider daringly gambled that it would be the first notch in a collection that could help to distinguish his incarnation of the webslinging hero, but kept it at that. He wasn't overly keen on drawing the ire of a man known to shape metal into any form that he wishes, even if his pulse did thrum at the thought of colliding with one of the most potent and capable mutants to have ever lived.

"You're nowhere... quite literally, in this case." Playing the part of knowledgeable tour guide, a moment was given to let such news sink in as he pressed his thighs closer together, perched close to the edge of an elevated mound of rubble the entire time. Out of some faint modicum of respect, Miguel chose to not brother wasting time on painting an optimistic vision; enough hopes and dreams had been shattered in this place to last several lifetimes.

"In what you had known as New York. In the year 2099." And again, because he must, because this isn't how the Canon is meant to go, he further adds. "I'm gonna need to send you back home." Long before Doom or anyone else could capitalise on Magneto's unexpected visit to the future.

[avalondesigns]

Peanut’s roadside ufo museum (and gas station) 🐿🛸

[sonicanary]

@amazingwcbs liked for a short starter.

"That's not my name, and you know it." Bird lady? Lady bird? Birdie? Was it so difficult to actually memorize her alias? She was full on with nicknames all the time, for sure, but she wasn't intimate enough, not even friend with that Spider-boy to let him get away with it. She had a shitty year, in case you didn't notice.

[violentdelights-violentendss]

heyo !! could i get dazai, akutagawa, and fyodor with a reader who is super clingy and just overall loves them? like all over them just constantly hugging them and sitting in their lap and squishing their cheeks. just the couples being lovesick 👀👀👀 tysm !

That’s so cute omggggg!!! Here it is!!! I think this might have been slightly less fluffy than what you had wanted, but I hope it’s still okay…. please feel free to request as much as you want, and don’t hesitate to be specific so I don’t fuck anything up 🥹

(I seriously need to try and write more lighthearted stuff. I feel like everything I write is so SERIOUS)

BSD Men With a Super Clingy S/O

In this post: 🍪 Osamu Dazai, Ryonosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky 🍪

Synopsis: How would BSD Men react to a super clingy S/O

Ryonosuke Akutagawa

Akutagawa never truly understood why you wanted to be so close to him. The first few times you had grabbed his hand or thrown your arms around him in a hug, it’s as if you had hugged a frozen fish. He didn’t know where to put his hands and you had had to tell him it was okay to hug you back. And after time and time again that you threw yourself in his arms, the cold mafioso started responding quicker, wrapping his arms around you, but he still couldn’t truly believe that you wanted to always be touching him, in some way or another, because you truly loved him. He feared he did it not deserve your happy smiles and warmth. But with your ever-present clinginess, Akutagawa slowly accepted the fact that he was loved.

You huffed, bored, throwing your phone away from you. It bounced on the couch pillows, almost tipping over the edge. You barely even looked at it, your eyes now glued to your boyfriend, Akutagawa, who was sitting next to you, focusing on a book. His light eyes concentrated on the story unfolding in front of him, his mind miles away. Akutagawa was immersed in his novel, that he didn’t notice you crawling towards him, a small smile on your lips.

You slowly laid your head on his thigh, inhaling his sweet and familiar scent that had meant home for you. Akutagawa noticed, but didn’t seem to mind, tentatively placing a hand on your head. You stayed still for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of his long fingers getting lost in your hair.

You soon started craving more physical contact, as you always did, and gave yourself a gentle push forward, now having your torso lie in his lap. Akutagawa only moved his book to the side to glance at you for a second, before he returned to his story: he was used to you being weird.

Once again, you stayed on his lap for some time, counting how many pages Akutagawa flipped. And then, suddenly, you threw yourself up, sitting in his lap and throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing an avalanche of kisses on his neck.

Akutagawa’s froze, initially, unsure of how to react. His eyes stuck to yours, the silence pressing around you. “What are you doing, (Y/N)?” He asked, staring down at you, his voice harsh. He was somewhat used to you being attached to his hip permanently, always needing to feel his skin on yours, but he still needed some time to adjust. His hands were rigid, frozen, away from your body. You grabbed his stiff arms and wrapped them around your waist.

“I’m cuddling you, what does it look like I’m doing?” You asked, peeking up at him through your lashes. Akutagawa stayed still for a few more interminable seconds, gazing at your loved-filled eyes, before he finally relaxed into your embrace, throwing the book aside. His hug was, initially, tentative, and slowly became stronger, to the point where he was holding you as if his life depended on it.

Akutagawa’s hugs were always like this, and you adored it: it was if he slowly let himself go to the idea of being loved. Yes, you were naturally a clingy person, but you also did it to help Akutagawa’s bruised heart feel all the love he deserved. Maybe the universe, to make up for all the affections he hadn’t received, had sent you and your warm hugs to him. As Akutagawa pressed you tighter against his chest, he could not help the small smile that appeared on his lips.

Osamu Dazai

Dazai was as clingy as you were, sometimes even more than you. He constantly searched for you, holding your hand, or wrapping his arms around you when you two were lying in bed. Anytime he could, he would lift you by the hips and place you snugly in his lap, and keep you there, like a warm koala, as he worked, or well, pretended to work. Whenever you initiated anything, which was almost always, he responded happily: you hugged him first, he hugged you harder. Dazai didn’t want to admit that constantly having to touch you was not only fueled by the disproportionate love he had for you, but also the constant fear that you could be ripped away from him at any moment. Dazai mind also plagued him with the knowledge that you were too good for him; having you constantly search for him, as if he were your oxygen, reassured him more than he would ever admit.

You tried finishing the report you had to hand in by the end of the day, but your mind was just too clouded, and writing a sentence felt like navigating through fog without any guidance. Your eyes kept anxiously sliding down to the clock on your desk: Dazai was coming back from a week-long mission, and you yearned for him. You needed to feel his warmth envelope him in a soul-crushing hug, you needed to feel his cologne, you needed him.

Kunikida, who had been walking past one of the large windows in the ADA office, glanced outside. He turned to look at your hope-filled eyes, and he nodded, a small smile on his usually stoic face.

You stood up so fast your chair toppled over, but you didn’t mind, sprinting down the hallway, almost jumping down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. You threw the front door open, finding Dazai standing there, in all his glory. His warm, brown eyes were tired, and had lost their usual sparkle. But when he saw you, a small smile danced on the corners of his lips. Dazai opened his arms, whispering, “Hello, belladonna.”

You threw yourself in his arms, hiding your face in his neck. “Dazai!” You cried. You felt his bandaged arm fall delicately around your shoulders, pressing you against him. The minute Dazai smelled your sweet perfume, he felt at peace; he knew he was home. The calm he felt when you were squishing him against you in a hug was only proof of what he already knew: you were his North Star, the reason of his existence, the moonlight in his dark life.

Dazai’s head rested against yours, and you could swear was shivering in your arms.

The minute Kunikida called him, leaning from the window, Dazai’s cheerful smile returned with strength, and his tiredness evaporated, his eyes no longer tired, his vulnerability covered by his perpetual joy. He pulled away from you, going to stand underneath the window to chat with his partner, but you knew what he was truly hiding and didn’t let his hand go.

For the rest of the day, you stood next to Dazai, holding his hand or his arm, and when no one was around, you wrapped your boyfriend into hugs, pressing him closer to your heart.

Dazai was used to having some part of his body always be in contact with yours, but today, more than ever, he was thankful that you were clingy, becasue he needed your gentleness and your warmth to not collapse on the ground and start shivering from all the darkness that he hid inside his heart.

After all, your clinginess was his salvation.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Fyodor, before meeting you, had never tolerated anyone barging into his personal space. If anyone suddenly touched him, he would make them pay the price of the disrespect tenfold (Nikolai could personally testify to that). But the minute you and your angelic smiles had stepped into his life, he suddenly had to get used to you constantly touching him, for one reason or the other. His personal space was no longer his, it was yours, and, with a small thump in his heart, he realized he didn’t really mind anymore. His cold body craved your warmth, and, of course, he would never, admit how much he adored your hugs, or the way you constantly needed him for such trivial things. Slowly, your ever constant need to be pressed against him has warmed his heart

Fyodor was sitting in front his computers, the blue light shining on his breathtaking eyes. He was concentrated, his fingers flying on the keyboard. You were observing him from the door, having cracked it open. You were debating whether or not he would mind if you waltzed in and started talking to him.

“Myshka, you’re letting a draft in. Either come in, or come out.” Fyodor’s sharp voice resonated in the room. You flinched: you had been almost positive he hadn’t noticed you, but who were you kidding? This is Fyodor Dostoyevsky you were talking about.

You sighed, slipping in and shutting the door behind you. “Sorry, Fedya.”

“No grave damage was made, my dear. What brings you here?” Fyodor asked, still typing on his keyboard.

“You.” You replied, sauntering over to him, knowing that if he had given you the chance to slip inside, and was engaging in conversation with you, he was okay with getting disturbed. You draped yourself over his shoulder, your face next to his. You kissed his cheek a few times.

“Me?” Fyodor asked, finally turning to look at you, his monitors forgotten for once. “Do you mean my body? If you are aroused, my dear, I fear I can only please you for a short while — ”

“No, not like that!” You chuckled. You gently spun his chair around, making him fully face you. “I just want to be with you!” You said, falling into his arms. Fyodor, who was used to catching you as you threw yourself dramatically in his arms, had already been ready. You giggled like child, looking up at your cold, evil mastermind boyfriend who no longer seemed to react to your behavior. You extend your hands, placing them on his cheeks.

Fyodor furrowed his brows, gazing down at you inquisitively. Before he could ask what you were up to, you smushed his cheeks together, laughing so brightly Fyodor was sure he had fallen even more in love with you, even if he only admitted it to himself with a pinch of annoyance.

No one could have had the honor to smush his cheeks and walk away alive and unharmed, but this was you, his (Y/N), and so he only looked down at you, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. “You look like a chipmunk!” You giggled, moving his cheeks around.

“‘M gld I’muse you drling.” Fyodor spoke, his words pressed together as his cheeks were. The joy that lit your eyes at the simple, childish joke, made Fyodor’s own heart tremble with happiness.

You removed your hands from his cheeks. “Had your Fyodor quota filled, milaya?” Fyodor asked.

“No. I’ll never have my fill.” You smiled at him, pulling yourself up, aided by your boyfriend’s cold hands, to settle comfortably on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck, deciding to stay there a while, closing your eyes to relax.

Fyodor pressed a kiss to your forehead before he returned to his work, a hand slipped inside your shirt, tracing lines on your back.

Fyodor didn’t know when his personal space had become your space as well, but he couldn’t be happier that it had.

[mari-lair]

Heyo! just have a little questionroni.

What would replace the event that caused basically all of act 5 & 6 since you've mentioned the Sif friendquest can't be entirely messed up like it was in the original canon?

would it have some connection to memory of promise perhaps?

There is no one on one equivalent of act 5 and 6, i know is a wild move on my part but the family has each other, they can support each other in their times of need or just... relate to the experience of being in a time loop, even when they are at their most stressed they are never fully isolated, which is important since each family member have a different breaking point and there is always at least one person who can go "hey, don't give up, let's try something new. let's visit loop. let's take a break this one loop. let's test x, y, z theories. We ARE doing progress." and even if that result in comflict, at least they are getting angry, at least they are talking.

There is a creeping despair as the loops keep piling and sometimes bad things happen but the equivalent of Siffrin's "The king needs to be defeated by ME for the loop to break," frantic goal/desperate need for hope wouldn't happen, not to that extreme to every family member, during the same loop, which was what made Siffrin spiral into a "can't waste time can't waste time need efficiency can't waste time, just say your lines faster i need you to be strong!!" and pushed him to be a dick.

So what I do have is not a 'shit shit shit shit!!' arc like act 5, but different breaking points/characters arcs sprinkled all over the au. spoiler for said arcs below (or at least the base of them)

Mirabelle is constantly repeating the day were everyone expect her to save Vaugard, which is not that bad when she believes the loops will stop once they beat the king but it is a nightmare after they win and STILL loop back. And her mother/caretaker figure who was the had put all that trust on her has grown into a shadow of herself. She snaps, she have no patience for siffrin's "are you scared for tomorrow? is okay mira, the change god themselves blessed you, we will beat the king" again when she already beat the stupid king and the change god seem to have cursed her.

Bonnie doesn't understand what is happening, not fully, just that they are never getting closer to saving Nille, nothing is changing, and there is a palpable distance between them and Siffrin whenever a loop reset, they hate it, and they snap at Siffrin a lot cause "Frin won't even crabbing remember anyway!s" on their peak of hopelessness (they do still admire Frin so much so that's why they target him a lot, and Bonnie is hurt but they are also kind. They do eventually forgive Siffrin for not remembering, focusing instead of helping him )

Odile grows colder when she realizes Siffrin is somewhat involved. She will do unspeakable things to protect her friends, but Siffrin is one of her friends too so she needs to get a little desensitized to pushing Shiffrin for answers even when they aren't comfortable being pushed. It isn't good for them either to be in a time loop after all, and they won't remember anyway.

Isabeau doesn't have a 'drastic snap' arc, he is too emotionally controlled/mature and cowardly to have that when the team is already stressed. He is a tough cookie to crack, everyone leaves the loop before it happens, but don't be fooled, it does absolutely take a tool on him.

None of these little arcs happen simultaneously.

Act six is just a few loose ideas bouncing in my head as of now tho.

[darnell-la]

Heyo! Hope you are well :)

Could I request any version of Logan with a partner who always has bad rashes from shaving and he brings it up and she says how her last boyfriend made her shave and said it was gross otherwise and so she just assumes that’s right

note: our inboxes are open! give us anything, and maybe even make your request dramatic. we’d like a bit of bedazzle to our stories, just like this one.

———

“Hey, babe? Before you get in the shower, I wanted to talk to you,” Logan said in the softest voice he’s ever made. He didn’t know how to come off, thinking it would make her uncomfortable.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Y/n asked as she walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in the towel Logan had bought her. “You look good, Bub,” Logan said, making the young lady blush.

“What did you want?” Y/n asked again, not wanting to get into too much before she hopped in the shower. “Just wanted to talk — C’mere,” Logan pat a spot next to him.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Y/n asked as she sat down. Logan softly held her hand with an easy rub. “I know this is way out of my group, and I don’t know much about a woman’s private spots when it comes to that stuff but- Baby, you’ve been talking a lot about your rashes lately,”

Y/n was silent for a little, a little embarrassed about speaking about what her ex put her through for what felt like an eternity.

“Hey, babe- It’s fine, okay? If you’re going through something, just tell me so we can get you treated as fast as possible, alright? I heal, so I’m at no risk, but you are, so we need to,“

“Logan, Logan! Relax, it’s not that, okay?” Y/n cut Logan off, knowing he was overthinking. “It’s just razed bumps and all. Really bad ones because I shave almost every day for the past decade,”

“What?” Logan asked, confused about why she shaved almost daily, especially for so long. “Look, I wasn’t in a good relationship before you. H-He’d want it smooth any time of day, just in case he felt like doing it. Even just touching it to watch me squirm in public spaces,”

Now Logan was silent, having difficulty believing anyone could make his woman go through something like that.

“I-I just thought you wanted it smooth too, you know? He said that most men don’t want it hairy,” y/n felt disgusting, feeling like her ex was speaking through her.

“Baby — I’m just offended that you think I’m some little scummy boy. Who the fuck cares so much about a smooth cunt? Who the fuck is that bastard? I needa talk to that man-“

“No, no, relax, babe,” Y/n pulled Logan back down on the bed. “It was years ago,” y/n tried to make it seem like she wasn’t still traumatized. “Yet, you still do that shit — Baby, I’m hardy. I’ve never shaved around my cock for you, so what makes you think I have the right to tell you to shave?”

Y/n looked down and thought to herself. It wouldn’t make sense, but her ex would make it the worst deal if he felt one prick of hair.

“Bub, look at me,” Logan grabbed her chin softly, making her look up at him. “I’ve lived more lives than your sad excuse of an ex could ever live. He’s not a good man, and any man that has a mindset like that isn’t a good man,”

Y/n nodded her head as her eyes teared up, feeling a bit of relief, knowing she wouldn’t have to go through these rashes anymore. She can finally feel better about herself.

“C’mere,” Logan slowly laid y/n down on the bed and he kissed her neck. “My baby looks good no matter what. You think hair will scare me away from how good you taste?” Logan asked as he slowly moved down to her lower body. “Could be tangled down there, and I couldn’t care less,”

Logan pulled her towel off and softly spread her legs, already seeing how wet she was. “You haven’t even hoped in the shower, baby. How dirty if you,” Logan smirked as he leaned towards her heat, smelling the smell that always seemed perfect.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” y/n spoke low, still feeling a hint of anger in Logan. She knew Logan was a man who hated when people thought he couldn’t game anything.

Logan chuckled because he thought he was hiding his anger pretty well, but y/n seemed to always know when something was off about him.

“Oh, you will be, Bub,”

[deerlino]

WHEN CHAN STUMBLES

— chan, who’s usually super serious and all put together, just totally loses it when he sees you. like, his brain completely shuts down—seriously, someone call 911 because it looks like he had a stroke or something. but nah, he’s just crazy in love with you. <3

words ༯ 0.5k / pairing ༯ bang chan x gn!reader / genres ༯ college au (study night, supposedly), fluff, humor, crack, established relationship / warnings ༯ no warnings for this one, just pure, sweet fluff !

a/n ༯ hey yo heyo! this is my first piece here and i’m lowkey nervous to post it, but here we go! chan is the absolute cutest in this one, love him. hope you enjoy, tho! <3

Chan had always been the epitome of seriousness. He was the guy who could ace an exam, lead a group project, and still manage to hit the gym—all in one day. Your friends had nicknamed him “Superman,” but to you, he was just Chan. Your Chan.

Tonight, you were hanging out in his dorm room, supposed to be studying for your upcoming finals. His desk was cluttered with textbooks, highlighters, and half-empty coffee cups, but neither of you seemed too worried about it. You’d been dating for six months now, and his dorm had become your second home.

“Okay, if I have to read one more sentence about organic chemistry, I swear I’ll scream,” you groaned, dropping your highlighter dramatically.

Chan chuckled, glancing up from his laptop. “You know, you say that every time we study.”

“And every time, I mean it.”

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright, take a break. You’ve earned it.”

You stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh as you leaned back on his bed. Chan watched you with that soft look he always got when he thought you weren’t paying attention. But you noticed. You always noticed.

“So, how’s your paper going?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Eh, it’s going,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll get it done.”

“Of course, you will. You’re Chan, the man who does everything.”

He laughed, but you could see the faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let it go to my head.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Can I help? Maybe proofread or something?”

Chan glanced at you, and in that moment, it was like his brain short-circuited. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. It was like someone had hit the pause button on his brain.

“Uh, Chan? Earth to Chan?” you waved your hand in front of his face, giggling.

He blinked, snapping out of his trance. “Sorry, I just... you’re really... distracting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Distracting? Me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Like, a lot.”

You crawled closer to him on the bed, closing the distance between you. “How so?”

Chan swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on yours. “Because... you’re... you. And you’re here. And it’s just really hard to think straight when you look at me like that.”

You grinned, your heart swelling with affection. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “God, I must look like an idiot.”

“An adorable idiot,” you corrected, pulling his hands away from his face. “And for the record, I think you look pretty hot when you’re all serious and studious.”

His eyes lit up at your words, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, leaning in to kiss him softly.

Chan melted into the kiss, his serious facade crumbling completely. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed in bliss.

“You know, you’re the only person who can make me feel like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like what?”

“Like my brain has completely shut down and all I can think about is you.”

You laughed softly, brushing your lips against his again. “Good. Because I feel the same way.”

© deerlino (est. 030624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[awkward-walking-potato]

Heyo! I love how you write stories with Logan with animals because they’re so beautiful!! I was wondering if you’d write another one please? The reader is a shy mutant with nature powers (grow all kinds of flora, manipulate the elements, live harmonious with any kind of animal), she’s basically like Mother Nature. She has a big secret place where she often goes to. She created it to keep all kind of creatures save from humans and mutants, especially exotic ones, and are very dear to her. He tried to follow her once, but others cannot find the place except for her or if she allows them in. One day, she wants to show it to him and have him meet her family and one of her oldest family members, a gigantic dragon. The dragon is quite intelligent and doesn’t seem impressed nor does he seem to like Logan and constantly tries to kindly kill him/play pranks on him whenever she’s not looking (e.g. pushing him into a pool of mud, taking up all her attention for him, etc.). You can also add Wade to the story if you want to. Thank you so so much and hope you’ve a beautiful day!! 💙

The hidden Sanctuary

Wolverine had always been a lone wolf. Even as part of the X-Men, he kept to himself, preferred the company of silence, and embraced the solace of solitude. But there was something about Y/N that intrigued him. Maybe it was her shyness or the way she melted into the background, rarely speaking unless spoken to, or perhaps it was the powerful, almost mystical energy that seemed to ripple off her in waves whenever she was around nature. Whatever it was, Logan found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Y/N was a mutant with powers unlike any he’d seen before. She could grow entire forests with a wave of her hand, manipulate the elements like it was second nature, and animals of all kinds flocked to her as if she were Mother Nature herself. Logan had seen her turn a desolate wasteland into a thriving ecosystem in seconds, and yet, she remained so modest about her abilities.

He had tried to follow her once when she snuck out of the mansion, curious as to where she went when she thought no one was watching. But no matter how closely he trailed her, she always managed to lose him, disappearing into the forest like a whisper on the wind.

Eventually, he let it go. If she wanted to keep her secrets, he wouldn’t pry… too much. But the more time they spent together, the more Logan found himself wanting to know everything about her. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he wanted her to trust him enough to let him in.

One evening, as they sat on the mansion’s roof, watching the sunset, she turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of anxiety and excitement. “Logan, I… I want to show you something. It’s important to me, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden openness. “You know you can trust me, darlin’. I won’t say a word.”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Okay… follow me.”

The journey was long and winding. They traveled deep into the forest, far from the mansion and any sign of civilization. The trees grew denser, the air richer with the scent of pine and earth. Logan stayed close, his senses on high alert, but Y/N moved with a confidence that made him feel oddly at ease.

After what felt like hours, she stopped in front of a large, ancient tree with sprawling roots. She placed a hand on the bark and whispered something he couldn’t make out. To Logan’s astonishment, the tree seemed to shimmer before it slowly began to part, revealing a hidden pathway bathed in golden light.

“This way,” she said softly, taking his hand and leading him through the opening.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as they stepped into a paradise beyond imagination. It was a hidden sanctuary, a place untouched by the modern world. Lush, vibrant plants of every color covered the ground, towering trees stretched high into the sky, their branches heavy with fruit, and a crystal-clear waterfall cascaded into a sparkling pool surrounded by delicate flowers.

Exotic creatures roamed freely, some so rare that Logan had only heard about them in legends. There were unicorns grazing by the water’s edge, phoenixes perched in the trees, and even a small family of griffins playfully wrestling in the distance.

“This… this is incredible,” Logan breathed, his voice laced with awe.

Y/N smiled shyly, a blush coloring her cheeks. “This is my sanctuary, a place where all creatures, mutant or otherwise, can live in peace. I’ve spent years creating and protecting it. It’s… it’s my home.”

As they walked deeper into the sanctuary, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way the animals greeted Y/N as if she were their queen. She interacted with them lovingly, whispering words of comfort, stroking their fur, and laughing when they nuzzled her affectionately.

But then, they reached a clearing, and Logan’s senses immediately went on high alert. A massive shadow passed overhead, and he looked up just in time to see a gigantic dragon circling above them, its scales shimmering in the sunlight.

The dragon landed with a thud, the ground shaking beneath its weight. It was an ancient, majestic creature with eyes that glowed like molten gold, and it was staring directly at Logan.

“Logan, this is Drakon. He’s one of my oldest friends,” Y/N said, her voice filled with affection as she approached the dragon without a hint of fear. “He’s been protecting this place for centuries.”

Logan nodded, trying to keep his cool, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Drakon was sizing him up, and not in a friendly way.

“Nice to meet you,” Logan said gruffly, extending a hand. The dragon huffed, a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils, clearly unimpressed.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “He’s just being protective. Drakon, Logan is my friend. You can trust him.”

The dragon narrowed its eyes, but finally gave a reluctant nod. Still, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that the dragon didn’t like him very much.

Over the next few hours, Y/N showed Logan around the sanctuary, introducing him to all the creatures and explaining how she had come to find and protect them. Logan listened intently, more captivated by her passion and love for this place than the creatures themselves.

But every time Y/N turned her back, Drakon would make his displeasure known. The dragon would nudge Logan toward a pool of mud, causing him to stumble and fall face-first into the muck, or he’d suddenly swoop down to land between Logan and Y/N, cutting him off and demanding all of her attention.

At one point, Drakon even “accidentally” knocked Logan off a ledge into a thorny bush, earning a surprised laugh from Y/N when she turned around to see Logan tangled in the branches.

“You alright, Logan?” she asked, rushing over to help him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Logan grumbled, glaring up at the dragon, who looked away innocently, a satisfied smirk in its golden eyes.

Logan wasn’t easily intimidated, but this dragon was really starting to get on his nerves.

As the sun began to set, Y/N and Logan sat by the edge of the pool, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Drakon rested nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Logan, though he pretended to be dozing.

“I’m glad you brought me here, Y/N,” Logan said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “This place… it’s a part of you. I can see why you wanted to protect it.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to show you for a while now. I trust you, Logan. I know you’d never hurt this place or the creatures here.”

Logan felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. I’ll protect it just like you do.”

They sat in contented silence for a few more moments, but then a voice broke through the peaceful atmosphere.

“Hey, lovebirds! Mind if I join the cuddle fest?”

Logan groaned as Deadpool suddenly appeared from behind a tree, his red and black suit standing out starkly against the natural beauty of the sanctuary.

“What the hell are you doing here, Wade?” Logan growled, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh, you know, just following you guys. Figured you’d need a chaperone. And what do I find? A magical Disney wonderland! Seriously, you guys have been holding out on me!” Deadpool exclaimed, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the sanctuary.

Before Logan could retort, Drakon let out a deep growl, his eyes narrowing at Deadpool. “Oh, big guy, relax! I’m just here for the hugs and maybe to steal a unicorn for my apartment.”

The dragon let out a jet of flame that narrowly missed Deadpool’s head, causing him to dive for cover behind a boulder. “Yikes! Tough crowd! Guess I’ll stick to pestering Wolverine.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, I think we’ve got enough trouble with the dragon. We don’t need him making it worse.”

Y/N giggled, watching as Drakon continued to eye Deadpool suspiciously. “I think Drakon likes you more than Wade, at least.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’ll take what I can get.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sanctuary glowing in the soft light of twilight, Logan realized that, despite the dragon’s antics and Deadpool’s unwelcome appearance, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Here, in this hidden sanctuary, with Y/N by his side, he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to get along with that damn dragon too… as long as it stopped trying to push him into the mud.

As Logan and Y/N prepared to leave the sanctuary, Wadw trailed behind them, trying to coax a reluctant phoenix into his backpack. Drakon, still suspicious, hovered nearby, ready to intervene if necessary.

“Come on, little birdie, you know you want to—ow! Okay, okay, no stealing the mystical creatures,” Deadpool muttered, nursing a singed hand.

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y���all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍  drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est  word count: 18.8k gdi

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Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher. 

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car. 

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time. 

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else. 

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root. 

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him. 

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive. 

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However. 

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household. 

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money. 

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways. 

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now. 

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer. 

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers. 

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.” 

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it. 

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview. 

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back. 

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become. 

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down. 

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.” 

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret. 

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon. 

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees. 

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.” 

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets. 

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him. 

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all. 

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you. 

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side. 

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…” 

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide. 

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back. 

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears. 

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.” 

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk. 

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.” 

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.” 

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?” 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—” 

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it. 

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?” 

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to. 

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this. 

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.” 

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight. 

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off, 

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you. 

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them. 

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows, 

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately. 

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout, 

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior. 

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops. 

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished. 

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again. 

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts. 

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence. 

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times. 

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay. 

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers. 

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.” 

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all? 

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.” 

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.” 

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years. 

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were. 

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken, 

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck. 

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop. 

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways. 

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years. 

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend. 

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost. 

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.” 

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.” 

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?” 

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.” 

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.” 

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world. 

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder. 

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end. 

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future. 

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours. 

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave. 

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away. 

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness. 

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.” 

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present. 

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of. 

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…” 

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.” 

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.” 

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things, 

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on— 

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face. 

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer? 

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets. 

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need. 

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?” 

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for. 

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it. 

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape. 

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide. 

If you didn’t have to wait. 

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out. 

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like. 

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait. 

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless. 

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs. 

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time. 

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try. 

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it. 

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will. 

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust. 

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth. 

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now. 

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.��

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you. 

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest. 

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees. 

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that. 

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.” 

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.” 

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves. 

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing. 

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly. 

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes. 

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.” 

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence. 

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.” 

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close. 

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.” 

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.” 

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got. 

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore. 

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.” 

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years? 

This can’t be it. 

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.” 

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.” 

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it. 

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?” 

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.” 

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.” 

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.” 

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things. 

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.” 

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges. 

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade? 

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence. 

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.” 

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.” 

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

��You didn’t know that. 

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

“And leave this to us when you came back.” 

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out. 

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible? 

…Is he paying loans? 

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t. 

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to. 

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways. 

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is. 

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too. 

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend? 

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.” 

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.” 

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.” 

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...” 

“Empty?” 

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.” 

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.” 

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else. 

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things. 

And regret others. 

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?” 

“All the time.” 

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.” 

“Hmm.” 

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.” 

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.” 

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were. 

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least. 

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.” 

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back. 

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.  

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you... 

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck. 

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can. 

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?” 

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through. 

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.” 

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.” 

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.” 

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate. 

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.” 

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke. 

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway. 

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.” 

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him? 

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams. 

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—” 

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most. 

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you. 

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself. 

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before. 

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort. 

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.” 

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note. 

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s. 

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened. 

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen. 

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you. 

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts. 

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place. 

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen. 

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.” 

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?” 

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game. 

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?” 

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.” 

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat. 

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.” 

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.” 

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?” 

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.” 

“Mm.” 

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants. 

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public. 

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.” 

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes. 

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?” 

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?” 

Huh. “Me? How?” 

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.” 

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer. 

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again. 

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start. 

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.” 

“Mmk.” 

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.” 

“You can definitely be upset.” 

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all. 

Only warmth. And understanding. 

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.” 

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time. 

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way. 

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause. 

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again. 

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot. 

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders. 

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing. 

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out. 

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again. 

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says. 

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this. 

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob. 

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle. 

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close. 

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone. 

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers. 

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours. 

“You will.” 

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.” 

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.” 

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.” 

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.” 

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food. 

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of. 

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision. 

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day. 

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good. 

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere. 

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up. 

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too. 

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded. 

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time. 

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size. 

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo. 

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all. 

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else. 

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up? 

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer. 

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels. 

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either. 

To the point where it’s starting to scare you. 

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling. 

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now. 

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know? 

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong. 

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable. 

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted. 

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—” 

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement. 

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.” 

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.” 

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”  

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner. 

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats. 

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing. 

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all. 

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours. 

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left. 

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.” 

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.” 

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?” 

“I just… You read.” 

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window. 

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.” 

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close. 

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.” 

You do. 

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive. 

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door. 

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place. 

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want. 

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways. 

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap. 

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines. 

You don’t know what’s coming over you. 

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum. 

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding. 

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh. 

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.” 

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips. 

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too. 

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.” 

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight. 

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher. 

“So fucking filthy...” 

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls. 

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses. 

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin. 

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time. 

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time. 

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.” 

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything. 

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night. 

Perfect. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you. 

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means. 

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot. 

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want. 

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath, 

“So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck. 

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between. 

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple. 

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved. 

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.” 

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him. 

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes. 

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling. 

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops. 

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure. 

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops. 

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again. 

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.  

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided. 

“Then fucking beg.” 

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out. 

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” 

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming. 

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips. 

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides. 

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too. 

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size. 

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem. 

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window. 

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—” 

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” 

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better. 

It’s not. 

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds. 

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke. 

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” 

What is he— 

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass. 

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make. 

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” 

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.” 

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back. 

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.” 

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat. 

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear, 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs. 

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk. 

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise. 

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again. 

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it. 

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver. 

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips. 

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple  a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard. 

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips. 

“Again.” 

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying. 

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true. 

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands, 

“Again.” 

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want. 

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.” 

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. 

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months. 

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house. 

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there. 

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back. 

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things. 

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes. 

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes. 

Does he feel at home, too? 

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next. 

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets. 

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern. 

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure. 

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.” 

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.” 

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper, 

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed. 

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak, 

“I always do, babe.” 

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering. 

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this. 

“That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care. 

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” 

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, 

“A little longer is nothing.” 

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again. 

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.” 

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.” 

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.” 

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul. 

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds. 

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others. 

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window. 

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips. 

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours. 

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface. 

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones. 

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side. 

“Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head. 

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss. 

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light. 

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything. 

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

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tbc. :) 

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a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)  A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.  A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[moonselune]

heyo! your writing is phenomenal and I thank you for sharing it with us!

If you're still open to prompts/requests, would you consider writing a matching piece for the Bg3 male companions reacting to no ability to revive their partner? If not, that's okay!

Thanks again for your writing and for sharing your talents!

Goddamn this hit me hard in the feels writing this x thank you so much for your support and thank you for reading it xox

Gale:

The battle had been fierce and unrelenting, the ground littered with the bodies of fallen enemies and friends alike. In the heat of the chaos, Gale had fought with all his might, casting spell after spell to protect his comrades and turn the tide of the fight. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't save you.

When the dust settled and the reality of your lifeless body sank in, Gale's heart shattered. He rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he cradled your head in his lap. Your eyes, once so full of life and love, stared blankly into the void. He could feel the warmth leaving your body, and with it, his own will to fight on.

"No, no, no… this can't be happening," Gale whispered, his voice breaking. He frantically searched his pack for a revivify scroll, but found none. The last one had been used in a previous battle, and now he was left with nothing but despair.

Desperation clawed at his mind as he looked around at the others. "We need a damned scroll, something, anything!" he shouted, his eyes wild with panic. But the somber faces of his companions told him what he already knew—they were out of options.

"I won't accept this," Gale muttered, his determination hardening. "I will find a way to bring you back. I swear it."

Despite the protests from the others, Gale refused to listen. He cast a gentle preservation spell over your body, ensuring that it would remain untouched by decay. He would find a way, to bring you back, to bring you back to him, no matter the cost.

As he carried your preserved form back to camp, his mind raced with possibilities. Ancient rituals, forgotten tomes, divine intervention—he would exhaust every option. Gale's heart ached with the loss, but his love for you fueled his resolve. He would bring you back. He had to.

Astarion:

The battlefield was eerily quiet, the sounds of clashing steel and agonized cries fading into a haunting silence. Astarion's sharp eyes scanned the aftermath, searching for any sign of you. When he finally spotted your lifeless body, his heart plummeted into an abyss of despair.

"No!" Astarion screamed, his voice echoing across the blood-soaked ground. He sprinted to your side, collapsing beside you. His hands shook as he desperately tried to find a pulse, a sign, anything that you were still with him. But there was nothing.

"Please, no… you can't leave me," he whispered, his voice choked with tears. He tore through his own pack, then yours, searching frantically for a revivify scroll. When he found none, he turned his fury on the others.

"Where is it? Where's the damned scroll?" he demanded, his eyes blazing with a mix of rage and sorrow. He tore through their packs, heedless of their attempts to stop him. "There has to be one! There has to be!"

But there was nothing. No scroll, no hope. Astarion's strength gave out, and he collapsed onto your body, sobbing uncontrollably. His tears mixed with the dirt and blood on your face as he held you close, his heart breaking with each passing moment.

"I'm so sorry… I should have protected you," he murmured between sobs, his voice filled with guilt and anguish. "I can't… I can't do this without you."

Astarion's cries echoed through the battlefield, a haunting reminder of the love and loss that war brings. In that moment, all he could do was hold you, his tears falling like rain, and call out to every god- every devil, for a miracle that would never come.

Wyll:

The battle had been brutal, the toll high, but the true cost was only just being felt. Wyll had fought valiantly, as he always did, his heart and sword guided by a desire to protect those he loved. But it hadn’t been enough. He found your lifeless body amidst the carnage, your eyes forever closed to the world.

"No… no, this can't be happening," Wyll choked out, his voice trembling with grief. He fell to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he cradled your head in his lap. Tears streamed down his face, unchecked and unstoppable, mingling with the dirt and blood on your skin.

"I should have been better," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should have fought harder. This is all my fault."

Wyll's sobs grew louder, his body wracked with grief. He clung to you, his heart breaking with every passing second. The others watched, helpless and heartbroken, knowing there was nothing they could do to ease his pain.

In the back of his mind, a dark thought began to take root. What if he made another pact? What if he sought out a devil, any devil, who could bring you back? The idea terrified him, but the prospect of living without you was even more horrifying.

"I can't lose you," he murmured, his tears falling onto your still face. "I can't do this without you."

Wyll's sobs echoed across the battlefield, a haunting sound that spoke of a love lost too soon. He held you close, his mind torn between his grief and the desperate, dangerous hope that he could find a way to bring you back.

Halsin

The silence that followed the battle was deafening. Halsin stood amidst the fallen, his eyes scanning the field until they found you. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he approached your lifeless body, his expression a mask of stoic calm.

He knelt beside you, his large hands gently lifting you into his arms. The others watched in silence, their grief palpable, but it was Halsin's reaction that truly frightened them. There were no tears, no cries of anguish—just a terrifying, emotionless silence.

Halsin stood, cradling your body as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. Without a word, he turned and began walking towards the forest. The others called out to him, their voices filled with concern and confusion, but he did not respond.

He walked deeper into the forest, the shadows closing in around him. The sounds of the battle faded away, replaced by the quiet rustle of leaves and the distant calls of woodland creatures. Halsin's face remained impassive, but inside, a storm of emotions raged.

He carried you to a secluded glade, a place of peace and beauty. Gently, he laid you down on a bed of moss, his hands lingering on your face as he memorized every detail.

"I have failed you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I should have protected you."

Halsin knelt beside you, his heart heavy with sorrow. He knew he would never return to the camp, never face the others again. His place was here, with you, in the quiet solitude of the forest.

Ngl when I did Halsin's all I could think about was him never being seen again and it developing into some kind of myth/legend about the druid in the woods forever mourning his beloved.

mwhahahaah

Hope you all liked it ! - Seluney xoxo

[iobartach]

@novaragno // continued from; open!

Wrath and noise composed a terrifying symphony, flooding the air with the raw, unbridled chaos of his unleashed fury. Metal was torn apart, bashed and pressed into warped shapes where fists took over from claws. The damage was mounting, the wall deteriorating further with every harsh gasp expelled, seemingly unwilling to stop.

Until he heard it. A clack of plastic bouncing off the ground. A giveaway that he'd been found.

Not good. For the other person, that is.

"Walk. Away." Voice like booming thunder, another slash carves new marks into the ruined structure, claws remaining buried in the metal as he pressed his unmasked forehead against its cold surface. Seeking a reprieve, none would be found, for an overwhelming feeling of rage still pulsed under his skin, heightening the danger that radiated from him like a storm on the verge of breaking.

And yet, he failed to register any signs of feet retreating, as he had ORDERED--

"Didn't you hear me!?" A snarl ripped with ease from his throat, head snapping to glare back at Felicity, garnet hues burning with a dangerous warning, barely confined. "Go! Get AWAY from here!"

[landitolover]

𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 part two | previous part ౨ৎ oscar x reader

WELCOME BACK TO DULCE HOTLINE!

enter your password: ***********

message list !

y/n l/n

lando norris

message y/n l/n?

yes > no

you have sent a message!

oscar

heyo

y/n l/n

hi oscar

sooo

ur famous.

oscar

uh yeah

is it gonna be a problem?

y/n l/n

not at all

😆

oscar

you don’t see me

any differently now?

y/n l/n

uhm

no?

i mean, you’re not taylor swift famous….

oscar

glad about that

must be a bit tiring being that famous

y/n l/n

i’d assume 🤔

if u don’t mind me asking

where do u live

oscar

the uk, for the most part

i travel lots though cause of my job

you?

y/n l/n

i’m living in france for a bit

with my two friends 😁

oscar

that’s nice

i like it over there

y/n l/n

yeah it’s quite alright

oscar

how long have you been

living in france?

y/n l/n

not too long

originally i just came here for a wedding

then my friend bought an apartment while she was drunk

oscar

how does one buy a whole ass apartment

while being drunk 😭

y/n l/n

honestly

i have zero clue

kinda funny tho

tell me more about yourself 🥸

oscar

well it’s my first season in formula one

i’m kinda awkward in person

i started karting when i was 10

i prefer dogs over cats

i like tim tams

sorry i don’t know what else to say……

y/n l/n

rookie season, wowie

i’m also awkward in person dw!!

karting at ten? woww i was eating chips on

my bed and watching austin & ally…

dogs over cats……… immediate no 🌝

tim tams are yummy

oscar

it’s your turn to tell me yourself

y/n l/n

okay okay uhm

I’m in uni atm

i have two cats named cinnamon and sugar

oscar

two cats?

y/n l/n

yes yes

oscar

oh! so uhm

how are u on this fine evening

y/n l/n

🌝🌝

very very good

you?

oscar

that’s good

i’m better now that I’m talking to you

y/n l/n

🫣

you’re a flirt, piastri

oscar

🤔🤔

maybe i am

but you like it, don’t you?

y/n l/n

i do

😵‍💫

oscar

i have to go now, sorry

bye :)

y/n l/n

bye oscar!

y/n ⛄️

guys

he wants me so bad ong

xienma 🛐

dulce hotline guy?

y/n ⛄️

yes yes

okay so

i know a bit more about him now

xienma 🛐

do tell

madeline 🤺

yes, tell us abt ur man!!

y/n ⛄️

okay so he’s an f1 driver for mclaren

so basically just cars??? it’s his rookie season

he started karting when he was 10

he loves tim tams

he prefers dogs over cats 🌝

madeline 🤺

that’s kinda boring

xienma 🛐

leave her man alone 🤓

but dogs over cats??

what ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN?????

madeline ⛄️

nah fr

he could POSSIBLY be the father of

cinnamon and sugar 🤔🤔🤔 if he likes

dogs more!!!

y/n ⛄️

dw guys

i can change him 🙏🏼

LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS MAN

madeline 🤺

we’ve lost her to a man

xienma 🛐

aww he’s a cutie

i’m a ynoscar truther!!

madeline 🤺

i guess i’ll support u guys

just don’t let this be like ur old situationship

xienma 🛐

i second that

y/n ⛄️

i won’t guys, trust!!

he seems like a sweetheart

xienma 🛐

well, i hope everything will

work out for you guys 😁

just want u to be happy!

oscah 🦅

lando

norris

landoh 🤓

yes ?

oscah 🦅

i am so heavily attracted to her

landoh 🤓

dulce hotline girl???

oscah 🦅

obviously

look how beautiful she is

landoh 🤓

did you insta stalk her mate

….🌝

oscah 🦅

uhm

🤣🤣!!

maybe i did

she has two cats

cinnamon and sugar

landoh 🤓

wow mate

are you going to be a father to cats 😱

oscah 🦅

uhm no

i dunno

🤔🤔

landoh 🤓

how does she feel about like

you being famous

does she care?

oscah 🦅

no I don’t think so

she said i wasn’t “taylor swift level famous”

landoh 🤓

thank fuck you aren’t though

that’s good that she doesn’t really mind

about you being famous 🤔🤔

oscah 🦅

i agree

oh my god

oh my hod

landoh 🤓

what ????

oscah 🦅

she messaged me

oh mgmgod

-&;@2&;@?&2&/_*{+~£|¥_£|¥_

bye

bye

TALK TO U LATER

landoh 🤓

I’m actually SICK

seeing u obsess over a girl

this isn’t you babe 🥺🥺🥺

what happened to landoscar

😭😭💔💔

Read 15:00

WELCOME BACK TO DULCE HOTLINE !

YOU HAVE ONE MESSAGE

y/n l/n has sent you a message

y/n l/n

hi oscar 🤓🤓

oscar

y/n l/n

oscar

hi y/n :)

also, you’re sending me all these memes of myself

so does that mean i’m in your camera roll?

y/n l/n

woah

oh

yeah you kinda are.. taking over my camera roll

didn’t even realize

oscar

wow are you already obsessed with me?

y/n l/n

uhm

i don’t think so, piastri

maybe YOU’RE the one obsessed with me!!

oscar

are you trying to use reverse psychology?

clever girl

y/n l/n

clever girl?? i’m blushing

oscar

wasn’t my intention but i’m glad

bet u look cute

y/n l/n

you’re insane for saying that

lord.

oscar

sorry sorry

y/n l/n

yeah no it’s fine

just !

😵‍💫🤔

oscar

quick topic change..

you know why i prefer dogs over cats?

y/n l/n

hm no

why?

oscar

cause i’m scared of cats

y/n l/n

how could you be scared of this baby

oscar

okay well i’m not scared of your cat in specific

just other cats…

y/n l/n

oh so ur biased 🙄

oscar

yes

well

no?

maybe

y/n l/n

you’re never meeting my cats.

oscar

wait no

trust i’ll change for them

y/n l/n

you know what’s funny

you kinda look like a cat yourself

oscar

oh my god

wait

why do i kinda look like one

y/n l/n

oscar pastry is a cat confirmed

piastri***

oscar

🥐

i’m oscar pastry fr

y/n l/n

wowie 🤓

okay i’m gonna go eat now

#dinner time

oscar

alright, bye

have a nice meal

y/n l/n

byee!

y/n ⛄️

HIIIIIII GUYSSSS

xienma 🛐

someone’s happy

what’d he do now

y/n ⛄️

he’s just so

sooooo 😍😍

madeline 🤺

we lost her

she’s down deep

xienma 🛐

i think they’re cute idk

pretty good looking couple imo

y/n ⛄️

i think so too, i might be a little biased though…..

do u guys think that men obsess over

girls the way we obsess over them

like this better be him 🤣🤣🤣

xienma 🛐

GIRL 😭😭

madeleine 🤺

no cause real shit

i wonder if they get giggly n shit

y/n ⛄️

FORREAL U GET ME!!

madeleine 🤺

like do they just go :3 when we message them

xienma 🛐

totally

y/n ⛄️

he totally goes like that when i msg him

he’s so cat coded idk what to tell u guys

madeline 🤺

no wonder y u want him so bad

y/n ⛄️

🌝🌝

xienma 🛐

i’m ynoscar truther forever

madeline 🤺

they barely kno each other 😒😒

THEY MET ON A DATING APP

xienma 🛐

okay girl just cause your little situationship

didn’t work out, doesn’t mean u have to be a hater..!

madeline 🤺

don’t bring that shit up again……

yall fake

y/n ⛄️

woah man

I didn’t say anything

i’m eating dinner!!

and mad, what if he has a cute lil friend 🤫

i’ll set u up 🔥🔥

madeline 🤺

our wag era 😈

y/n ⛄️

ok bye i’m leaving

😴 nap time

xienma 🛐

dream abt oscar xx

Read 16:20

౨ৎ sorry i didn’t post anything about dulce hotline yesterday, i just couldn’t think of anything to write 😭 i might possibly do a double update, so keep a lookout for that!

taglist, @d6za1 @amoosarte @ch3rryknots @moneygramhaas @alessioayla @cherry-piee @chasing-liberosis if you wanna be added, please comment ౨ৎ

[absurd-ash]

Heyo! Would it be okay to request a clingy Macaque x m!reader? Like the readers just doing their own thing and then Macaque just spawns from the shadows to crave attention?

🌙ClingyMacaque x reader🌙

AN: Of course! This prompt helped me get out of my writers block I had unintentionally gained for Macaque so thank you so much! >:D

(also, I’m not the proudest of this so please feel free to leave constructive criticism!)

______________________________________________________________

>🌙Whenever Macaque got clingy, he never tried to hide it. Why would he? He knows he gets cuddle and kissing rights to the most amazing human in the world, so why wouldn’t he use them?

>whenever he’s in a clingy mood he almost always wraps his tail around your waist, hope you didn’t have plans because your stuck with him for a long while ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ don’t know what to tell ya

>He gets super jealous when he’s clingy as well. It gets to the point where whenever you talk with anyone who isn’t him, he gets super protective, puffing up his fur to try to look as big as possible, rubbing his head against you to try to get you to smell like him, etc

>Dont even try to talk to Wukong whenever Macaque’s clingy, he’ll immediately grab you and use his shadow to teleport you away from the other monkey demon

>Afterward, he would all offended like he had just caught you cheating or something

>🌙Dont even get me started if your on your phone or something while he’s around, since he will immediately just yank it away with his tail as he wraps his arms around you and pull you against his chest

>Doesnt matter what you were doing and if it was important or not, all that matters now is the fact that he gets to cuddle you now

>If you’re ever hungry or need to get up to do something, this man is acting like your shadow. 24-7. Never letting you have alone time

>If you ever need to use the bathroom he’ll definitely complain

>“Ugh, can’t you just hold it??”

>Dont worry, he will let you do your business eventually, although he will 100% wait outside of the bathroom door, fiddling his thumbs and asking “Are you done yet?” Every five seconds

______________________________________________________________ Sorry this is so short!! I’m still trying to get into the rhythm of writing again!

[lazycats-stuff]

Heyo, can I ask for a bat!bro reader who’s around 16 or 17 and they find out that he smokes and drinks? And sometimes some drugs. And he (tries to) hide it from everyone?

If not it’s ok, and I hope ur doing good. Can’t wait to see what you write 🫶

Sure thing. I don't personally drink or smoke, even though I am an adult, but those are things that are prominent in my country. Some people start earlier even... I have digressed, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) smokes and drinks. Sometimes experiments with drugs. The problem? He is underage.

Warnings: smoking, underage drinking, DRUGS, experimenting, hiding all of that, lying, partying, cursing

(Y/N) knew that Bruce would kill him if he found out. He knew that sneaking out is not going to pass with Bruce and it could get him punished until he is an adult. But this party he is going to is going to be the best party of the century.

And he didn't want to be the party breaker. His friends were going to be there too and he was going to be damned if he is going to miss it. Thankfully, there wouldn't be anyone in the manor and it would be easier to get out.

They have all made a plan to drive (Y/N). His friend, well, the chauffer of the group, would drive up to the manor, but stay away far enough from the look of the cameras.

But the thing that Bruce would kill him for is his drinking and smoking. And occasional drug use too. But his life is too stressful. Why, I might hear you asking?

Well, the constant pressure of being a son of Bruce Wayne, constant eye of the public on you and constant pressure of being perfect. He turned to smoking first.

It was a way to just let go first. If he took liquor from the cabinets, Bruce and Alfred would know all of it and then he would be in deep shit. He wouldn't be allowed to leave the manor or have any contact with anyone.

He would be on house arrest for the next 2 years.

He took a cigarette and his favorite lighter. But the problem is that there are going to be the people he hates. So he needs to destress before he goes. He opened the window, letting the the cold air in and to let the smoke out.

He put it in his mouth, bringing the flame of the lighter towards his cigarette. He took a long drag, before letting it out. He learnt to let the smoke out in cool ways too, so that was fun to learn.

He let the smoke out through his nose, almost like a bull in the cartoons. He smoked near the window so that the smell could get out.

He sat on the floor, leaning on the wall, his right arm leaning on the window, making sure that the cigarette was out on the roof and that the ashes were falling down on the roof.

He looked at the phone, his friends texting him that they have started going to the manor. (Y/N) just said, okay and shut the phone down. He smoked for 15 more minutes before extinguishing the cigarette on the roof. He stood up and threw it on the roof.

He put the jacket on and started walking towards the front door. He stepped out in the cold air, sighing. Winter has finally come and it will only get worse. He walked to the big gates and pushed them with a little bit of struggle.

When he was out of the property lines, he closed them again. He walked down, zipping his jacket up and then putting his hands in his pockets.

He ran towards the car, getting into the back seat.

" Hello (Y/N)! You ready? " His friend asked and (Y/N) nodded, accepting a bottle of whiskey from his other friend. He took a long swig before giving it back to the front.

" This is party to remember. " The chauffer friend said, getting to the city already.

" I don't think that we will remember it by the morning. " (Y/N) said, smirking at his own joke. The other two laughed too.

This is going to be a night to remember.

(Y/N) finally let loose. A cup of some sort of alcohol in his hand, a cigarette in the other. The music was reverberating through him and he finally enjoyed himself. A few minutes ago, he snorted some cocaine and it made everything ten times better.

He danced with a random boy, just having fun. They rubbed against each other, kissing each other. (Y/N) didn't even know his name, but that didn't matter.

He was cute and really nice to him.

And more importantly, he went to (Y/N)'s school so he was definitely going to hang out and exchange their numbers since (Y/N) didn't have any social media.

It was all well until the sirens were heard. What the actual fuck? Since when does GCPD answers these types of calls? The rest of the time went by in a blur.

" Where is he? " Jason asked as they all ransacked the house for (Y/N).

" The footage shows him leaving around a couple of hours ago. " Tim chimed in, looking at the footage on his phone.

Dick looked at (Y/N)'s room. It looked clean and he started looking for some clues. He looked under the bed, in the drawers and then he looked through the window.

Why would the window be open?

He froze when he saw the cigarettes. What in the hell is going on? Nobody smokes in the family. Jason smokes at his own apartment and the others don't do it.

Damian decided to look at the outside, more so where he was last seen. He walked down, huffing at the stupidity of his brother. He stopped when he saw tire tracks. Somebody picked him up.

Alfred and Bruce guessed that it was just a normal sneaking out thing. Bruce thought about it and he thought about the way to ground his son.

This is insane. Alfred and Bruce waited in the kitchen.

" Alfred, what is going on? " Bruce asked, sighing.

" I don't know sir. But he looked off sir. I swore I could smell cigarettes on his breath, but it was so faint... " Alfred said, rubbing his forehead.

" Somebody drove him. " Damian said, huffing from running back to the manor. Bruce nodded. He didn't do it alone. Okay.

He stepped away when his phone rang. Everyone else joined Alfred and Damian. They wondered where Bruce went and what was going on.

" (Y/N) is in jail. " Bruce said and Jason's jaw dropped. Damian was also shocked, but didn't show it. Tim and Dick looked at one another in shock too.

" What the actual fuck? " Jason asked and for the first time, Alfred didn't say anything.

(Y/N) sighed quietly as he sat in the cell. Turns out that the person who hosted had parents who were drug dealers. And he went to their party. By now, Bruce knows and they have notified him. He knew that there would be no talking his way out of this.

He put his head in his hands, cursing underneath his breath.

If he finds out about cocaine, he is going to get killed. Not only by Bruce, but also by Alfred too. Alfred is going to crucify him if he finds about the cocaine. Oh God please don't let them find out.

" Come on Wayne. " The officer said and (Y/N) had to take a deep breath. He felt dizzy from the alcohol and the cocaine. Oh no.

If he passes out, they will take him to a hospital.

He saw Bruce and he looked pissed. (Y/N) tried to say something, but he stopped due to the black spots. Bruce called him, but (Y/N) was falling by the time Bruce came.

Everything went black and (Y/N) lost consciousness.

(Y/N) woke up later in a hospital bed. He blinked tiredly, freezing when he saw Bruce in the chair.

" You had to have your stomach pumped. " Bruce started and (Y/N) swallowed with a lot of difficulty. " You had a lot of alcohol in your system and you were close to being in a way more serious predicament. " Bruce said standing up.

" But the thing that nearly sent me to the grave is the fact that you used cocaine. " Bruce said through his teeth, now enraged.

" How long? " Bruce asked, taking a breath to try to calm down.

" It's not regular. It's just a few times. " (Y/N) admitted, looking down at his hands. He was ashamed so much that he couldn't look Bruce in the eyes, his own father.

" And the smoking? " Bruce asked, crossing his arms. " Alfred said you smelt of cigarettes and Dick found your 'ashtray'. " Bruce said, using air quotes on the word ashtray.

" I'm sorry. But it's stressful being your son. " (Y/N) tried to explain himself, but Bruce put his hand up.

" I know. It's not easy. But you could have come to us and we would have helped you. " Bruce said, rubbing his forehead. " I don't think I need to tell you that you are going to be grounded. I love you, but I have to nip this in the bud. No going out, all the technology is going to be taken, the only route you will have is school and manor. " Bruce stopped for a moment. " You broke our trust with your unhealthy habits and you need to earn it back. And more importantly, there is no patrol until you get yourself in order. " Bruce said and (Y/N)'s first tears fell.

(Y/N) loved patrolling and this was a nasty hit. Everything else, he could live without it. But patrol? No.

Bruce saw it and knew that patrol punishment did it. He gently embraced his son and (Y/N) cried softly into his chest. Bruce knew that tough love was needed in this situation. He never really used it with others, but now it was needed.

" You are going to get through this and you will be okay. " Bruce comforted, giving him a kiss on the head.

[lalikeslichto]

heyo!!!! i rlly rlly rlly love the way you draw eyes and id like to know if its okay to ask for a tip on how ya do them

i just love ur artstyle and i hope to be as talented as u one day

Thank you! …I draw them from references, and I also look at how other artists do it. in fact, these are the same simplified academic techniques

In general, sketches helped me, I used to do a lot of them and it helps to catch the features! here are some from college

[bedoballoons]

Heyo! How are you doing?

If you are okay with it, may I request Tighnari, Scaramouche, and Xiao, with a s/o that tried sneaking up on them to try and scare them? I've always wanted to see if I could sneak up on them lol! Anyways I hope that made sense.

Thank you so much! I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/night 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Hiya!! I'm doing a bit better now, thank you! <3

Oh my gosh I have always wonderer the exact SAME thing!! I hope you enjoy this, because I loved writing it and I also hope your day/night goes amazing as well!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~You attempt to sneak up on them~༺}

(Includes: Tighnari, Xiao, and Scaramouche!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Tighnari:

You held your breath, excitement coursing through your veins as you tip toed into Tighnaris room, trying desperately to keep quiet and finally sneak up on him like you've always wanted to. Your eyes flicked up to his spot in front of you, where he sat neatly at his desk, engrossed in a book about plant biology while his tail swayed gently behind him. You watched for a moment, seeing if his ears twitched in your direction or if there was any sign that he had detected your presence, when no signs presented themselves you stepped closer.

Your hands reached out to touch him and for a split second you'd thought you'd won, only centimetres away from him now there was no chance he knew you were there...or so you thought. Just before you could touch his shoulder he turned to you, making you jump back in surprise, a blush coating your cheeks as smirk graced his face, "You know...I find it adorable that you try to sneak up on me...but I should tell you, I can hear you the second you walk up to the door. And I always know if it's you because I know your steps better than anyone else's..."

"You knew the whole time?! Why didnt you say something?!"

"Like I said, I thought it was cute."

𑁍༄Xiao:

You bit your lip, trying your best to keep your laughter down as you peeked at Xiao from around the corner, he was completely focused on the scenery, which could only mean one thing...it was time to sneak up on him. Just the idea made you want to burst into a fit of giggles, but now wasn't the time. You composed yourself the best you could, taking small calculated steps in his direction as your heart rate sped up, would he notice you...would he not? You didn't know and that was part of the excitement.

You reached your hand out to touch his hair, but as you were about to...he suddenly teleported away, leaving you speechless. Usually he let you know if he was going to go somewhere...was it a emergency? You looked around you to see if anything stood out, a fire or perhaps a group of monsters somewhere...but nothing stood out.

"What're you doing?"

You jumped out of your skin, shrieking at the sudden voice behind you and jumping away from him. "Xiao!" You gasped, your face turning bright red when you saw him trying to hide his own laughter.

𑁍༄Scaramouche:

Your whole body felt tingly with excitement, like electricity was shooting through your very being and it was mere seconds away from sending you into a fit of laughter. Why? Because Scaramouche was barely a step away from you, looking up at a painting of the Tsaritsa, deep in though and therefore, the perfect victim for you to sneak up on.

You closed the gap, stepping even closer to him, reaching you shaking hand out...and swiping his hat of his head, laughing hysterically as you bolted away from him. He barely even had the chance to react as you hurried away, his voice filled with annoyance and yet...slight humour as he shouted at you, "Give that back you sneak! I'm warning you!!" Then he gave chase, you could even hear him laughing as you attempted to get away.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Hope you're doing well!*⁠.⁠✧