#I've got some in my drafts that have been there for years

[peachhcs]

moments on the ring 3

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: back for it's 3rd installment, the ring camera captures the ups, the downs, and everything in between in samy and will's relationship

words: 6.4k

author's note: i couldn't help writing a 3rd part, so here it is! can be read as a standalone, but check out parts 1 and 2 as well! i've had this in my drafts for soo long and it's finally done! lowkk hitting some writer's block, so i'm trying to write through it (also i officially have a color theme for every au now!)

au masterlist | part 1 | part 2

WINTER OF SAMY AND WILL'S SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

gabe followed will onto the porch after watching the bonde stay silent for almost the entirety of dinner and then after when they played some video games with luke and jack. he immediately knew something was up, so gabe didn't hesitate to go after him to figure out what was wrong. the dark-haired boy watched the way will leaned up against the support beam, will's gaze and mind elsewhere as he glanced at the sky. gabe copied his actions and leaned across from him on the other support beam.

"what's up with you?" gabe spoke first because he knew will wouldn't.

"what do you mean?" the blonde played dumb even though they both knew why gabe was out there with him and why he'd been so spacey lately.

"dude, come on. don't play stupid. you're being all weird," gabe told it like it was and will flushed that his friend could call him out so quickly.

"i'm not being weird."

his response pissed gabe off so he continued, "will. you've been acting weird like all week and now you're being super weird by not talking at all at dinner or playing video games with us. i know something's wrong."

there was a painful silence while will struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

the whole liking samy thing was something that continuously plagued will's mind. it'd only gotten stronger since the feelings began back in september and it was kind of freaking will out. this girl was supposed to be his best friend who he saw an an annoying sister because that's what she was for the past 17 years but now all will could think about was how pretty she was and how jealous he got whenever she brought up other guys she was interested in (that would never be him.) when she broke up with kevin the hockey player was quite thrilled, but unfortunately she kept proving to him that they would only ever be just friends. samy teased will like she did with her bothers and while he was used to it, he wished so badly that it meant more to her, or that he could tell her it meant more to him.

the problem was he wouldn't ever though. will and samy were firm on one thing and that was their friendship. that mattered a lot more to either of them, so will was not putting himself in a place to jeopardize that. it was just getting so hard when he couldn't stop thinking about kissing her anytime he saw her. it really put a dent in will's mind.

gabe still didn't know that will liked her. neither of the guys did. he was scared to tell them in fear that they'd accidentally tell her because that was something they'd definitely do. not that samy would believe them though. the whole liking his best friend thing was pretty new territory that he didn't quite understand still, so telling other people felt like something that wouldn't go over well if he didn't even understand it himself.

will still didn't say anything after a long, painful silence. gabe looked his way, an expression that read something like "tell me or we're not leaving this porch until you do." the dark-haired boy totally would too. he knew getting stuff like this out of will was never easy.

will read the expression easily. he flushed, feeling embarrassed and kind of pathetic that the girl all of the guys teased him about for the last year was now someone will actually couldn't stop thinking about after denying it. what if gabe laughed at him? or worse, rubbed it in his face that they were right all along?

"how about i take a guess then? is it about samy?" gabe finally asked when they weren't getting anywhere.

will's head had never shot up so fast before. a look of horror and shock crossed the blonde's features and gabe just smiled knowing he was right.

"you like her, don't you?" gabe continued.

will was speechless. it took gabe all of seven minutes to guess his friend's deepest worry at the moment. he didn't even know what to say to that.

"how did you know?" the boy finally uttered.

"it's kind of obvious," gabe shrugged.

another look of horror crossed will's face, "i'm that obvious?!"

"i mean, yeah...kind of. i knew something was up with you two after you came back from that "seven minutes in heaven" shit back in april," gabe laughed and that was such an old memory in will's mind. that was definitely the moment there was something changing between him and samy because will thought about that kiss for weeks after. he'd never kissed someone like that before.

"you knew back then?"

"i hate to break it to you, but it was always obvious back then. why do you think we tease you all the time? you're fucking obsessed with her, smitty. we figured there might've been something going on, but then we didn't know anymore when she started talking to kevin. after homecoming though, i definitely knew there was something going on when we talked about it kind of. i could tell," this was such news to will. he never once thought he was obvious about his feelings, but maybe he really was after hearing what gabe said.

"shit..i didn't know you picked up on that. i thought i was being discreet. what else do you know?" the blonde flushed in embarrassment.

"i know you two made out many times after that time in april. you always had some sort of lip-gloss on your lips after," the dark-haired boy laughed and will couldn't feel more embarrassed. no wonder why people stared at him whenever him and samy emerged. to them, it probably looked like they went to town in that bathroom.

god, how embarrassing.

"we don't do that anymore, by the way. we stopped when she started talking to kevin," will thought he needed to clarify that.

"i'm glad you don't instigate cheating," gabe smirked and will rolled his eyes. if he was so obvious, he wondered if everyone else knew.

another wave of horror washed through the boy at the idea of samy knowing. how could she not know if everyone else seemed to notice his feelings? what if she did and she was just strangling him along? god, that'd be even worse than what gabe just revealed. "wait, does samy know?" will let the question slip.

"well, you're painfully obvious to everyone but yourselves. she's as oblivious as ever, so i think you're fine," gabe chuckled.

a bit of relief flooded through the hockey player's chest but then he was confused again, "painfully obvious to everyone but ourselves? does she like me too?"

when gabe hesitated will's heart soared at the possible hope that samy felt something towards him, but that joy didn't last long when gabe shrugged a moment later, "i don't know. she's a bit less obvious and it's hard to gauge when she just has a flirty personality in general."

will frowned. he was really hoping gabe knew something more than he did. he tried not to look too disappointed, but he must've anyway because gabe frowned too. the blonde sunk down to the steps, his head falling into his hands to try and deal with all of the thoughts running through his mind. gabe was quick to join his side and offer his comfort.

he didn't tease as he asked, "how long have you liked her for?"

"probably homecoming. maybe a little before? i don't know," will shrugged.

"what do you think changed?"

"there was just something that switched i guess. she wasn't some annoying sister anymore, but someone i wanted to spend all my time with. i hated seeing her with kevin and he knew i liked her and tried to make me mad any chance he could because of it. he wanted to make me jealous and it worked because i punched him. i can't stop thinking about her either. she like consumes my mind 24/7," will rambled on a bit with some frustration laced in his voice that he was even thinking these things yet he couldn't do anything about it.

"what's stopping you from just telling her?" gabe wondered and will looked at his friend like he was crazy.

"i could lose her as a friend because she doesn't feel the same way? i ruin our friendship? i make things awkward for our families for the rest of our lives?" will thought it was so obvious why he couldn't tell her.

"i don't think samy's the kind of person to let that happen though."

"i'm not risking it. i can't," the boy shook his head.

"so what then? you're gonna let these feelings consume you for the rest of time?" that didn't sound appealing to either of them. will frowned.

"until i can get over them and then let it go and never think about it ever again," he said it like it was easy and gabe snorted.

"yeah, right. this shit's gonna tear you apart. i mean look at yourself. you're a mess."

"okay, rude. what else am i supposed to do? she's my best friend, gabe. i can't lose that. i'd rather let this tear me apart than lose her completely."

the boys fell quiet again as will's words hung in the air. he would be putting a lot on the line if he confessed his feelings to the girl inside and there was no way the hockey player was in the right headspace to risk their entire 17-year friendship for some silly feelings. he didn't even know if it was feelings because everyone was telling him to have them after the endless years of teasing or if they were actually real.

"okay, i get it. it's scary liking your best friend. i wouldn't wanna risk that either. just try not to let it consume you too much though, okay? we miss the old you," gabe nudged will's shoulder. the blonde rolled his eyes again.

"the old me? i'm still me."

"yeah, sure. the you that's head over heels for his best friend," the teasing would never end. gabe helped will back up, patting his shoulders as a way of saying it would be okay.

before they could go back in though, the door opened and samy stuck her head out. she raised her eyebrows seeing the two out there together, "you two making out without me?" she teased them.

gabe gave her the finger while will just flushed, "funny, hughes. you wish."

samy giggled as the dark-haired boy ruffled her hair as he stepped around her to get back inside. she glanced at will, a wondering look in her eyes as he came in too. "you okay?"

"yeah, all good," he put on his best smile for her.

she seemed to believe it because she skipped back into the living room where everyone was. will sighed, but followed after her where he'd spend the rest of the night pretending like everything was okay.

little did he know, the ring camera captured the entire conversation that would quickly become a memory down the road that marked the first time will admitted his feelings for samy. she would 100% tease him about it when they were finally together and poke him for how cute and shy he was about it when they were younger.

SPRING OF SAMY AND WILL'S SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

samy watched from the porch as will loaded the car up with the last of his things for nationals. him and the u18s were off the switzerland for whole week to participate in the championships while samy stayed behind in michigan. it was the one tournament she couldn't make it to with it being the last few weeks of her senior year and finals she needed to wrap up before graduation.

at least will would be back in time to watch her graduate. the two found each other's glance and a soft smile sat on samy's lips as the blonde walked back up to the porch. "all packed?" the girl wondered.

"yup, that should be everything," will nodded as he looked back at the car. samy was trying to keep a brave face so she didn't start crying. having this separation anxiety from will was a bit new to her because she's never had it before, but the anxieties of being away from him for a week was consuming her brain. she tried not to let it show.

will was really good at reading her though, "you okay?" he wondered when he read into her.

"i think this is the first tournament i won't be there for," samy frowned.

"wow, yeah. that feels weird," the boy laughed lightly mostly trying to keep the mood light.

"tell me about it. you're gonna do great though. i'll watch all of the streams and we can talk about it over text. are you nervous?" samy's way of directing the feelings off of her was to put them on someone else.

"a little, yeah. i mean this is the moment we've been working to all year. it never feels real," will hummed.

"save a puck for me?" the girl beamed and she blushed when will wrapped his arms around her in response.

they held each other tightly, the hug turning more into a tight hold like they never wanted to let go. samy pressed her cheek against will's chest where she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to calm her down. will could feel the way she relaxed in his arms and it warmed his heart knowing he could calm her down like this. he pressed his own cheek into her head and they stayed like that for a long time. maybe will had some slight separation anxiety too because the idea of samy not being in the stands watching kind of messed with his head a bit.

she was his good luck charm. what would be do without her? what if they lost because she wasn't there watching him and he couldn't look up at her whenever he was feeling nervous.

"i'll be back in like ten days. it'll go fast," will pulled back a bit, mostly because he wanted to admire her face.

"that's a long time," samy mumbled. she was trying really hard not to cry.

"i know, but ill be back for your graduation," the boy tried looking on the bright side.

"and then you leave again for the nhl combine," the girl was feeling a bit more negative though.

"you'll be in nashville with me for the draft, but we'll get through this," will nodded assuredly. if someone was walking by, they'd definitely think samy and will were a couple saying goodbye to each other because they honestly looked the part.

just best friends though.

just best friends who had crazy feelings for each other that they refused to admit out loud.

"call me and text me every single day," samy said and will laughed.

"i promise, i will. have fun at your last few weeks of school."

their gazes met and for a split second the thought of kissing crossed each of their minds unknowingly, but neither of them made a move. they couldn't. instead, will settled for brushing her hair away from her face and wiping away a few of the tears that slipped down samy's cheeks.

colleen came out of the door a second later. the two broke apart, deep blushes coating their cheeks, but will's mom didn't say anything.

"you ready to go?" she asked will. the boy nodded.

"i think so."

samy let will go as he carefully walked down the steps. she leaned against the railing, watching him wave to her as he climbed into the passenger seat. the door swung open again and ellen came out. she reached her hands around her daughter's shoulders as the two of them watched will and colleen pull out of the driveway.

"did you wish him luck?" ellen wondered.

"yeah, i did," samy smiled.

the older woman squeezed her shoulders before disappearing back inside once the car was out of sight. samy lingered for another moment, remembering what it was like to have will's arms around her like that. she blushed at the thought. the younger hughes spun on her heel to go back inside when her gaze caught sight of the ring camera that caught the entire goodbye. she smiled at it and bent down a bit to talk into it.

"ten days. i can do ten days," she said like she wanted the reassurance.

samy did that for every day will was away, mostly to keep herself sane and so she knew how long he'd been gone for.

when his mom's familiar suv pulled into the driveway samy was already racing out of the door to greet him. the car wasn't even parked when will flew out of his seat to lift her into his arms and spin her around in a tight, loving hold. he wore a proud smile on his lips when samy began mumbling about how happy she was for him and how proud she was.

"i'm so, so proud of you, will. you did great out there. i knew you were gonna win it all," the brunette cheered. will put her down, but his hands didn't leave her waist. they were too caught up in the moment to realize how dangerously close they were to one another.

"i wish you were there, though. would've been so much better if you were. i got in my head at the end and they sent me to the box. god, i was so scared they'd fuck it all up," will rambled. samy found it endearing, but she grounded him by squeezing his cheeks so he'd stop to take a breath.

"the refs were such shit, but hey, it's over now. you won! you have a gold fucking medal!" samy exclaimed and she loved the way his face heated up.

colleen got out of the car, a knowing look on her face when she saw the two standing together. she didn't say anything, but she already knew when will was begging to go to the house to see samy as soon as they landed back in the states. ellen came outside a moment later and that's when the two finally pulled apart when they realized how close they were and what it seemed like.

"congrats, will. you played well," ellen hugged the boy too. the blonde grinned as he hugged her back.

once the pleasantries were exchanged, samy dragged will inside so she could see his medal up close and they could continue debriefing the final game. the ring camera captured the soft smiles on their lips as they passed and the way samy hung onto the boy like she was afraid to let go of him.

FALL OF SAMY AND WILL'S FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE

it was hard to admit but college was hard. for the past few weeks, will was in a slump. his playing felt off, the coaches were extra hard, and the games...god the games. they were winning, sure, but will had never felt more drained. it was the same routine over and over and over—he'd get up, go to class, have a hellish practice right after and then he had to study and do his homework for hours until he physically couldn't keep his eyes open.

on the outside, the boston freshman was excelling in every area. he was dominating the other rookies and people were really starting to talk about him. it was great, but will didn't feel great on the inside. playing nonstop games in dev was one thing, but at a collegiate level with 22-year old guys that pushed him into the boards more often than not, it was wearing him down.

the worst part of the whole thing? will really really missed samy. her being back in michigan living her own busy schedule made communication a bit sparse and hard to keep up with. they practiced at different times so it felt impossible finding a time to facetime. will could maybe catch her after practice in the morning on her walk to class, but even then, sometimes she was too busy to call. the boy knew how busy they were, but it hurt a bit more than he liked when they went from talking almost every second of the day to once if they were lucky. he missed seeing her at the games. he missed her waiting for him after a game. he just missed her.

the boys were starting to notice too. will's game became sluggish and skating felt like running through quicksand. he missed goals he should've gotten. fowler accidentally whacked him in the arm when will wasn't paying attention by the goal. the star freshman was falling apart at the seams and the guys were scrambling to hopefully make it better.

throwing a party was the absolutely last thing on will's mind that would make him feel better, but everyone insisted. plus, it was a great way to leave a good impression on the campus, so it was saturday night and the freshman hockey house was packed. guys will had never met before filled in and out of the rooms, random girls tried talking to him, and it was just not what he was in the mood for. he thought about samy the whole time and kept looking at his lock screen like it would just teleport her there. maybe he would've liked the party if she was at his side and he could show her off to all of his teammates and boston students, but instead he was stuck with shooing off random girls that wanted to talk to him.

will escaped outisde for some fresh air. he sunk onto the steps, setting his cup of vodka and lemonade down because he wasn't even in the mood to get drunk. it would just make him more upset about samy not being there. ryan ended up following his friend outside when he noticed will's lack of presence.

"you okay, man?" ryan shut the door so the noise inside muffled itself.

"yeah, fine."

the brunette joined him on the steps.

"what do you think of the party? i had no idea this many people would show up," ryan laughed and will shrugged.

"yeah. it's big."

his responses were dry and no matter how hard ryan tried lifting the mood, he just couldn't.

"dude, i know you've been having a hard time being away from samy, but the sulking..it's kind of killing the mood.."

will's head whipped so fast in ryan's direction, "dude. what the fuck?"

"i'm just saying.." ryan shrugged.

"i'm sorry i miss my girlfriend because she's in a completely different state and we hardly get to talk anymore. at least your girlfriend is just a drive away!" will got angry which caught both of them off guard, but ryan wasn't offended. not when there was a surprise waiting for his friend on the other side of the door.

the guys ran through every possible idea that could lift will's spirits and after realizing samy was the only person that could, they called her and begged her to fly out for the weekend. she was on board almost immediately and now she was on the other end of the door giggling at her boyfriend's sour mood.

"jeez, okay. sorry. sorry. i get it. it's hard. i'm sorry, man. i may have something that might make you feel better though," ryan grinned and will grew confused. if he was about to suggest shots..

he watched as ryan went to the door again and that smile on his lips made it seem like he was up to something. the blonde watched curiously as the door was pulled open and a very familiar face stuck her head through.

it felt like time went in slow motion when will realized who it was. first, his eyes widened and then his instincts kicked in as he sprung up and took in his girlfriend standing five feet in front of him.

"hey, will," samy giggled.

he was on her a second later. his arms around her torso and his face in the crook of her neck as he breathed in her familiar scent of home. she couldn't stop giggling and both ryan and gabe were recording while everyone else was standing at the doorway watching the sweet exchange.

"i missed you so, so much," the hockey player muttered into her skin. he basically melted into her, his weight deadening the longer he stood in her arms.

"i missed you too," samy pulled back much to the boy's dismay so she could see his face. his gaze had softened since talking to ryan and he just looked like he could cry right in front of her. he looked so sweet to her as she reached up to drag her nails through his messy hair.

"how'd you get here? don't you have practice?" the blonde wondered and the girl shrugged.

"yeah, but what's one day? ryan and gabe called me. said you were sad and needed to see me," she giggled again and he finally looked up at his friends still staring and watching them reunite.

"surprise!" ryan cheered, finally stuffing his phone away.

"i've never kept a surprise like that before," gabe laughed as well and the others nodded in agreement. will couldn't believe his friends planned something like this for him.

"sorry i got a little mean on you, smitty. i couldn't have you suspecting anything," ryan chuckled and the blonde rolled his eyes. samy went to hug the other boys while will thanked them for pulling off the surprise.

"thanks for getting her here," he said to ryan and gabe. the two boys smiled and shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"we hated seeing you so down, so we figured what's the next best thing?" gabe patted his friend's shoulder and will smiled back.

he looked back to where samy was now hugging and greeting drew and aram. both boys had wide smiles on their faces as the girl asked how they were. everyone's spirits felt lifted now that the youngest hughes was back and maybe it was just what all of them needed. she was their best friend too and after spending two years together, will may have not realized how much they'd miss her too.

"thank you. i owe you," will looked back at gabe and ryan.

"don't mention it," ryan chuckled before going to join in with the welcoming.

"so should i expect to bunk with drew and ryan tonight?" gabe teased. will's cheeks heated up into a deep crimson, shoving his friend for that comment. "shut up," he mumbled.

"what? i'm just saying. i'll bother them to sleep in their room," the dark-haired boy winked before also joining the bigger conversation.

will hung back for another moment just taking it all in. samy's back was to him, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she talked with his hockey friends that were as much as her friends too. his smile had never been bigger.

he joined the group, wrapping an arm around samy's waist and she subconsciously leaned into him while still talking with drew and aram. will pressed a soft kiss to her head, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting her to know he was there.

the freshman house ring camera that will insisted they installed captured the sweet moment between all of them, now becoming a memory they could look back on forever.

SPRING OF SAMY AND WILL'S SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. 

it was a bit colder for a late afternoon in april, but michigan was known for having bipolar weather the closer summer got. samy was on her porch doing work on her computer when a car pulled into the driveway. she recognized it as gabe's because his mom drove an old prius and that was the car that pulled in behind hers. she smiled watching the dark-haired boy step out and wave as he walked up the driveway. 

"hey stranger," samy pushed her laptop closed for the moment. 

"hey hughesy. sorry for randomly dropping by, but we're starting to pack some of the house up and i remembered i had things i've left here," gabe explained his presence and the girl quickly chuckled. 

"ah, right. i'll inside to help you find it," she got up from her seat and led the boy inside. 

over the past two years, a lot of the boys' things collected at her house after hangouts, parties, whatever. she figured they'd come back for them when they remembered, so there was a massive pile in her basement of all of their things. it was sad though. with it being april, the hockey season was almost over and that meant the boys were going to be moving away from michigan for college. almost all of them were going to boston while samy was staying in ann arbor and as happy as she was for them, it was sad that they wouldn't be a 15 minute drive away anymore and their weekly hangouts would become every few month reunions. 

"damn, that's a lot of stuff," gabe mumbled when he saw the pile in the corner of the room. samy laughed. 

"yeah, you guys have a lot of shit. you better tell the rest of them to stop by so they can get it," there was an old hockey stick, a handful of clothes, hockey skates, board games and samy had no idea who it all belonged to. 

gabe picked through the pile. the old stick was his and almost half of the sweatshirts were his because he had a habit of taking them off and then never picking them back up when he left. there was a shot glass that was his he got in one of country's he played in last year. the boy flushed when he realized her had two handfuls of things. 

"shit, sorry. i didn't know half of this was mine," the boy chuckled. 

"want help getting it out to the car?" samy wondered and gabe nodded, so she took his one pile and followed him back outside. 

once it was all in, samy invited him to hang out for a bit since she was home by herself and could use the company. gabe happily joined her on the porch where samy completely disregarded her homework for now. the hockey player stretched back in the chair, taking in the pretty view of the other houses down the hill. 

"i gotta admit, i'm gonna really miss this place," the boy hummed, meeting samy's glance. 

"i can't believe it's almost over. it feels weird," she frowned a bit. 

"yeah, i know. it went by so fast. i'm sure will's told you this, but the guys are gonna really miss hanging out here every weekend. you made our time in michigan really special," gabe smiled softly. samy actually hadn't heard that before, so she was flattered hearing it come from his mouth. 

she didn't think she'd miss hockey boys as much as she would miss them. sure, her brother's dev friends were great, but they were never really her friend. they were more like brothers and she just gained brothers every year. this dev class was by far her favorite because she was walking away with seven boys who would be her friend for the rest of their lives and it hurt that she wouldn't get to see them every week anymore. 

"well, you're welcome back anytime. you all are invited to the lake house in the summer every year now," they shared a smile. 

"good because i'd still come even if i wasn't invited," gabe mumbled. 

the two settled into a comfortable silence for a moment. samy's mind was scattered with thoughts of graduating and heading to college in the fall. it was only april and she graduated at the end of may, so there was still a month left, but it was going to go fast. once prom was over, it was just finals and state testing and then graduation. it'd be over before she knew it and the boys would be gone. there wouldn't be any more reason to drive up to plymouth unless she wanted to watch the u17s play next year. 

"so i heard you're taking smitty to prom?" gabe broke the silence. samy's gaze snapped to his, flushing. 

"yeah. it was marcie and lauren's idea since i kept complaining i had no one to go with." 

"he's been talking about it since you asked him. i've never seen him freak about what suit to wear before. he kept telling us how important it was that he matched with you and looked good beside you..i have no idea," the boy's words caused a small blush to form on samy's cheeks. she dodged gabe's eyes thinking about will talking about it nonstop. 

things between them were..complicated. samy's sat with the idea of liking her best friend for about 6 months now and the more she thought about it, the more confused she became. marcie's teasing never stopped and the way will kept looking at her sent butterflies in her stomach in a way she's never felt before. it didn't make any sense anymore. 

"i'm glad he's excited," the younger hughes hummed. 

"oh, you have no idea. he's ecstatic. i think he would've blown a casket if you took someone that wasn't him," and the guys would make comments like those still that confused samy even worse because it was implying that will liked her and while everyone had been teasing and hinting that at her the whole year, she still didn't believe them. 

"that sounds a bit dramatic," she laughed it off though. 

"yeah, but like i'm serious. he's been wanting to take you to one of your dances since homecoming," gabe shook his head like he didn't know the weight of the words coming out of his mouth. the brunette quieted, her heart racing. homecoming? 

homecoming was back in october. that was when her and kevin were together and how much she knew kevin and will did not like each other. she knew will and kevin fought about shit kevin was saying that will didn't like, but then marcie told her it was also because kevin was trying to make will jealous. samy chose not to believe her, but now hearing gabe say it..maybe she wasn't so wrong after all. 

the hockey player seemed to finally realize what he was saying because his face paled and he darted his gaze to the girl beside him. 

"shit, i don't think i was supposed to say all of that," gabe mumbled embarrassingly. 

"you know people keep saying these things to me about will and it's like..i don't know. it's kind of freaking me out..i feel like i don't know what to think anymore," samy muttered. 

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have..we just like to tease, you know that. i was just teasing..." gabe tried backtracking, flushed. 

"no, i mean like..it freaks me out because i think..i think i feel the same way?" 

the teenagers quieted. samy looked at gabe and he looked back at her in surprise. that was her first time admitting her possible feelings for will out loud. 

"it freaks you out that you like him?" gabe talked again, his tone softer than before. the brunette flushed and then nodded. 

"he's my best friend. i grew up with him. he's supposed to be an annoying brother..not someone i like...and now i'm taking him to my senior prom in a week.." 

"sometimes the best relationships come from being best friends your whole life first though. you'd be living a lot people's dreams," gabe tried making her feel better about it because he could sense the stress on her features. samy laughed. 

"i know. i just..i feel like everything is changing and i hate change. i just wish we could keep everything how it is and feelings don't have to be thrown into the mix, you know? i wish you guys weren't leaving michigan, i wish we had more time, i wish a lot of things," a long sigh escaped the girl's lips and gabe took it upon himself to get up to wrap her into a hug. 

"i know it's so weird and kind of scary, but you know we're always here for you, even in a different state. whatever happens between you and will, it's gonna work out. sometimes taking a risky leap leads to a lot of good things. plus, you know we'd be supportive because we've been rooting for you guys since we met you," they shared a heartfelt laugh. gabe pulled back, his soft smile easing the anxiety from the girl. 

he placed a kiss to her forehead, not in a romantic way, but in a loving, brother way and samy really appreciated it. she squeezed him a bit tighter for one last hug before letting him get back home knowing there was a lot to pack back at the house. 

"i'll see you soon. you can't get rid of us yet, hughes! we still have summer!" the dark-haired boy exclaimed as he walked to his car. samy giggled. 

"right. can't wait," she waved and watched him until his car wasn't in view anymore. she settled back into her chair to finish her homework while the camera above the door handle blinked, capturing her and gabe's entire conversation that will happened to listen in on because his phone was hooked up to her house's ring camera after one night samy was coming back late and will wanted to make sure she made it home safe per her request. 

he didn't mean to listen, but he heard his name brought up and his curiosity got the better of him. now he was left wondering what this meant for him and samy moving forward and a small part of him hoped it would lead to them finally getting into a relationship because what gabe said was right. 

will had been thinking about it since homecoming.

[sufficientlylargen]

I was tagged by @athenasdragon

Favorite color: medium blue, probably? Though when I was a kid I told people it was orange, not because I loved orange more than other colors, but because my older brother's favorite color was orange and it annoyed him when I picked the same one. But e.g. most of my clothing is darkish blues or occasionally greens, so that seems to be what I gravitate towards most.

Last song: "Dare to be Stupid" by Weird Al Yankovic, because it was in a tumblr post that came up recently. I think the last song I heard before that post was "Lock Me Up" by the Chalkeaters.

Currently reading: *sigh* I haven't been finding time to read things lately. I am (roughly) keeping up with some online works, notably @derinthescarletpescatarian's Time To Orbit: Unknown (which I think is almost complete) and Charlie MacNamara, Space Pirate, as well as @elodieunderglass's His Delicious Materials, which is Dungeon Meshi if they all had His Dark Materials-style daemons. Also I picked up Travis Baldree's Legends & Lattes the last time I was in a physical bookstore, on @loryer496's recommendation, but I haven't started it yet. Also also I think I borrowed The Goblin Emperor from @platoapproved something like twelve years ago and then didn't have time to finish it and it's been sitting in my "to read" pile for like a decade.

Currently watching: Same problem as above, time and energy have reliably been either scarce or mismanaged so I mostly watch bits and pieces of whatever @bbcphile happens to be watching. If video games count I picked Hades back up again recently, but not Hades 2 because I don't have a platform it'll run on. Probably also going to pick up Ori and the Will of the Wisps sometime soon, because I loved the first one.

Currently craving: Sleep, or at least the feeling of having slept well. An incident with a medication and some bad doctor's advice left me unable to get much sleep for a while, and I'm still recovering from that.

Coffee or tea: I like coffee a lot, but only drink decaf because of a heart issue that *probably* wouldn't be exacerbated by drinking a bunch of caffeine but it doesn't seem worth the risk to try it. Much tea falls in a similar bucket, making it a really weird-tasting bucket of drink, but I do drink a lot of rooibos, which I consider a tea even though botanists and tea aficionados might disagree with me.

Tagging: @loryer496 @shacklesburst @regexkind @eikotheblue @maeamian @platoapproved @asmuchasidliketo but no pressure if you'd rather not.

[svtskneecaps]

literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

[ednaeflowers]

sorry for the radio silence ! am exhausted

[blurrypxls]

[dittomander]

i just edited a fic chapter for the first time in like 100 years 😭😭😭 i can finally post again on wednesday!

[gentlethorns]

30K WORDS. slay slay slay. i think i will always forever and ever remember this time in my life as the first time that i really truly forged a coherent and "adult" story, as i sat in my little apartment and lived an adult life for the first time (no longer in school, paying rent). it may not be marketable or even objectively good, even after i do edits and further drafts and so on so forth, but i think it will always be an important era of my life just on the simple fact that i did the hard work involved in laying a good foundation and pulled together the discipline to follow through on it for the first time since high school (and high school doesn't even really count bc it was nowhere near as intensive or solid and also bc i had no real responsibilities so it was easy). so inchresting to discern that a certain period in your life will be significant even as you're living it

[therealandian]

right okay now that i've had a minute where i'm not at work, i wrote a little drabble to go along with this:

Elias stopped dead in his tracks, not quite believing what was in front of him. “Wh—Since when did you get here!?” he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at his best friend, who was meandering down the street like he'd walked it a thousand times. “We weren't anywhere close to Earth when you left—there's no possible way you could have arrived before me!” After standing stunned for a moment, Jon pointed back with a grin on his face and a twinkling glow in his eyes. Admittedly his eyes always looked like that, but that wasn't the point. “That's what you think!” he laughed. “I just happen to be good friends with an eldritch demigod!” He kept pointing, and he kept laughing, and at this point Elias was just a little bit peeved. “You bastard! Why didn't you tell me you wanted to come back here!? I spent thirty years on my own getting here, and that's barely counting the time travel!” Jon laughed harder. “I've been here since 1995!” At that point, Elias could feel himself beginning to tremble from rage, but he kept it together. Mostly. “This could've been significantly easier for both of us if you'd just told me!”

Jon was laughing too hard to speak. A tear slid down his cheek, followed quickly by another. To make matters worse, he was still pointing at Elias like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Admittedly Elias was also still pointing, but he wasn't having nearly as much fun. He wished he was—it looked, well, fun! As if things couldn't get more confusing, another figure appeared from nowhere and froze as the light of teleportation faded around him. “Uh…,” said Martin Blackwood. Jon didn't notice; he was busy still. Elias did, of course, and a spike of dread stabbed him in the chest. “Uh…,” he echoed. As if pulled by some unseen force, Martin raised both his hands, one pointing at Jon, and one pointing at Elias. He glanced back and forth between the two as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around what he was looking at. His jaw flapped, but no words came out. Jon clutched his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut, not quite stopping the laughter, but at least getting it down to an uncontrollable giggle. He wiped away the tears. “You should've seen the look on your face!” he cried. Elias finally figured out how to lower his hand and stop pointing at his absurd comrade. “Erm…Jon?” “Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, waving a dismissive hand. “Give me a minute.” Meanwhile, Martin finally figured out how to make his mouth work, and spoke. “What the fuck did I just teleport into!?” Jon peeked up at him, grin widening once more as he wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Oh, hello, Martin! Fancy seeing you here!”

:P

i just want to end this off by saying something important to me: as of 5 days from now (may 29th), redeath will be turning 4 years old which is just. UTTERLY wild to me.

when i first started writing that thing i did NOT expect i'd still be working on it this much later. and the fact that i started on stts in late summer of '21 is just. wow this au has gone on for a while. and i still love it to bits! even now with this i'm still finding new fun ways to get them to reunite (thanks @ike9306 for the idea), and it's just. i have no idea how many iterations of the end of this fic i've gone through but i definitely didn't expect where i eventually wound up lol. i still can't believe i thought 50k was a reasonable expectation for stts XD

so i just wanna say thanks--to old fans who've been here from the start and to new ones who literally just found this today. to the people who leave comments on every chapter, those who occasionally drop one on their favorite parts, and to the lurkers i can't see but know are there. i've had an unbelievably fun time playing around with this goofyass concept, and i'm so happy to see other people have enjoyed it too. i don't know that i would've without the overwhelming amount of excited feedback begging for more <3

we've still got a few chapters to go, but i'm hoping yall will find it well worth the time it took us all to get here (looking at the person who read like. all of redeath and all of stts up to that point in one very long session. you know who you are.)

Commission for @therealandian for the fic "Search Through the Stars". Disclaimer, this is not actually what happens! Go check it out.

Thanks for the support!

[bluetimeombre]

☽｡⋆ Learning to fly, starting to crawl

Over one hundred years ago, you lost your wings but the wound still hurts like it was only yesterday. When your brothers mate wants to learn to fly, he doesn’t hesitate in teaching her, right in front of you. And nobody can see the scars except the one you love…

[OMG I'M ALIVE!!!! I've had this sitting in my drafts for months but have only just got around to posting. Basically, I have too many hobbies but i'm in a writing mood again., very fitting to start with my boy AZRIEL, whom i love very much. I hope you enjoy. This is linked to my other Azriel fic but of course can be read alone. Not proof-read and yes, she lost her wings. It's becoming almost a thing but it makes for some good ass angst. ENJOY!!!!]

☽｡⋆

The inner circle all sat around the table, eating and chatting merrily. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, while his mate- Feyre- sat next to him, their hands entwined. They smiled at each other, as so in love they were. Cassian and Mor were joking around along with Amren and Elian listened politely. Every now and then, she glanced the shadow singers way to invite him into the conversation but there was no such luck.

Azriel only stared ahead of him, glaring at the empty space where you usually sat. He wasn’t at all surprised you hadn’t turned up, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry about it.

For a few weeks now he’d noticed the shift in you. You snapped easily and often rolled your eyes at anything your brother- the high lord- had to say. He’d heard you pace your rooms at night and his shadows (that favoured you above all) had reported that many nights you went to Rita’s.

But your empty seat irked him. And it irked him that Rhys seemed to not care in the slightest.

Az was the first to be aware of your presence, the echo of the door opening alerting them all and your scent hit him in the face. He inhaled it- your lavender, your sweetness, tinted by the alcohol lingering.

Rhysand huffed and everyone seemed to notice the shift. ‘I apologize about this, Feyre darling.’

Just then, you and Nesta stumbled into the room, arms linked and laughing your heads off about something or other.

Azriel drank you in. Your cheeks were flushed, your dress creased as you struggled to stay up right. Gods, what had you done?

You pouted dramatically, throwing a hand on your hip. ‘Uh oh, Rhysands got his grumpy face on.’

‘Isn’t that his usual?’ Said Nesta, causing the two of you to laugh again.

Everyone watched the two of you.

‘Where have you been?’ Az asked, wanting to rush to you and support you, but Rhys seemed one breath away from snapping.

‘We’re trying to have a pleasant meal, don’t ruin it,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes sir!’ You saluted.

Rhys growled and Feyre took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

‘Something tells me we’re not wanted, y/n,’ Nesta said to her.

‘Alas, we do not want to be here,’ you said, stumbling your way past the table. Before you went, you gave Feyre a squeeze on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her. ‘Feyre darling.’

‘Enough!’ Rhys shot up, hands on the table.

You barley spared him a glance as you and Nesta went about your way. You tripped on a plant pot, stumbling and apologizing to the object.

Azriel got out his seat, ready to follow you to wherever. No matter if you wanted him or not.

‘Sit down, Azriel,’ said Rhysand, taking his seat again. He picked up his fork and smiled at his mate like nothing had happened. All the while, your scent got further away from him.

He looked between where you’d disappeared and his high lord. He settled down and promised he’d find out what had made you act so.

☽｡⋆

You woke with unbearable pain in your head the next day. And your back. Your head was granted with the amount you and Nesta had drank, seeking to out-do one another so much so you drank out most of Rita’s.

But your back, the pain was new. Almost as if it knew why you were so angry, so bitter and it sort to make it worse.

Your curtains were drawn but the wind blew them back, letting you glimpse the outside world you dreaded to be a part of.

Shadows curled up your bed, brushing your hair back affectionately. They seemed to always be around you, as if they knew the bond that heaved in your chest even if their master didn’t.

You offered them a poor smile. ‘I’m fine.’ But they caressed you and smelt your lie.

From beyond the curtains, you caught a glimpse of figures in the sky. You’d always loved your room for the view it granted, of the sun, the moon, the stars. But after losing your wings, the view turned cold and the sky never seemed as bright.

It only got worse.

Though you knew the pain it would bring you to see, you wrapped a blanket around you and treaded over to the window.

Feyre was trying out her new wings, the black gifts she’d been given. Once mortal, she now had everything you wanted. The power, the wings. Your freedom was now hers.

And you hated it.

Azriel was looking close to her, encouraging her as she went. Though they were small figures to you, you could see his smile, how he held his hands out to her should she lose confidence.

How many times had you flown side by side, acting like the clouds abided you. The times you’d raced or dropped just to have Azriel catch you.

Never again.

The bitterness invaded your mouth again, blocking out all other logical senses.

Your door burst open- the shadows rushing to your side and curling around your shoulders. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the anger radiating from him was enough.

‘How dare you turn up in the state you did last night,’ snapped Rhys. You didn’t turn to face him, shielding yourself from his fury. ‘You had no right to ruin a lovely evening. We are trying to make Feyre and her sisters feel welcomed, its a shame my own sister can’t seem to do that for me.’

The words twisted in your gut. For him… had you not done everything for him? Lost your wings because you wouldn’t give in? Lost fifty years of your life to be with him?

‘Get over whatever it is going on and only return to us when you want to act like a decent human being.’ Rhysand snapped before leaving again, slamming the door- causing her to flinch.

The shadows ran down your hair, your cheeks, your sides. Giving you any ghostly comfort they could. ‘I’m fine,’ you told them again, retreating further into your room.

The shadows followed you, but only half of them. The other half had returned to their master, clouding him and whispering in his ear.

Her wings. She misses her wings.

She hadn’t had to say it out loud, they knew her pain.

Azriel paused in the sky, alerting Feyre. She’d seen the shadows surround him in flourishes. She couldn’t understand they were reporting in on you, that Az needed you to have something there when he could not be.

‘What is it?’ She asked, beating her wings.

He stared at her then at the wings. He was filled with the longing to be with you, in the sky, playing. Your wings were beautiful, just because they were you. A beautiful part of you.

‘I need to speak with the high lord.’

☽｡⋆

‘Ask someone else to train Feyre to fly,’ said Azriel.

He’d insisted he needed to see the high lord on urgent matters that could not wait. He’d expected it to be of the war, but Azriel opened with the line.

Rhysand was sat behind his desk, looking up to Azriel with some amusement. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ask Cassian,’ he said, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

‘Feyre wanted you.’

‘I can’t do it anymore,’ he said, stating it all simply.

Rhysand waited, wondering if he’d be graced with an explanation, but it never came. ‘Might I ask why.’

‘Your sister.’

Rhys’s amusement turned to a deep scowl. ‘My sister has asked you to stop flying with Feyre?’

‘No. She hasn’t asked, she never would. But I can’t teach Feyre to fly anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m confused- what does any of this have to do with y/n?’ He asked.

Azriels shadows wound tight around him, coating him like a second skin. He wanted to yell, and he never let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he curled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. ‘Do you really not think that this is hurting her?’

‘After her behaviour the past couple days I think it’s her who’s doing the hurting,’ he said, picking a bit of invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘She lost her wings,’ said Azriel with barely contained annoyance. ‘She lost them. They were cut from her back and she was left to bleed out.’

‘I do remember that Azriel,’ said Rhys, closing his eyes at the words. ‘I was there when we found her.’

‘So do you not think that teaching your mate to fly doesn’t effect her?’

Rhysand looked at him. His eyes changed, the hue turning darker. No, he hadn’t thought that. You’d never let on to feeling anything for your wings or lack of them. But then again, even if you had, would you ever have gone to your brother.

Azriel took a measured step forward. ‘Do you not think it hurts her that you teach your mate to fly, the same mate that gasped in horror when she saw the scars on your sisters back? That you have us fly in front of the house where she can see? Did you even know that when she bathes y/n covers all the mirrors so she doesn’t have to get a glance at the scars.’

The high lord held up a hand. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t. You could never know what it’s like, neither could I, or Cassian. She had a part of her ripped off and she has to live without it every day. But you’ve gifted Feyre them as if it’s nothing.’

‘Because my mate has the powers,’ argued Rhys. ‘If I could give y/n wings I would- in a heartbeat, I would.’

Azriel nodded. He knew that, he knew the relationship between you and Rhys was fractured at best, but he also knew that if anything or anyone hurt you, Az would kill them. ‘I don’t want to reach Feyre to fly because it hurts y/n.’

Rhys leaned back in his chair, studying him. ‘And you care about her?’

‘More than I can express.’ He would give her the wings from his back if he could. ‘And if something hurts her… it hurts me.’

Rhysand nodded. ‘I’ll take her flying from now on. We’ll do it in the mountains, to spare y/n from seeing it.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

Rhys nodded but averted his gaze. ‘Look after her, Azriel.’

‘I always have.’

☽｡⋆

Nesta had gone to Rita's, expecting you later but you'd already snuck down to the Wine cellar and picked out the finest to drown your sorrows alone in. You'd past Cassian on the way, the male worried about your shifting gaze and the way you held yourself but you brushed him off and carried on your way.

You hesitated outside your door, where shadows lurked. Yes, they liked you and yes they were often with you, but never guarding your door.

Then, you smelt it. Not wine but sweet cedar and moss. Az.

You didn't want this. Didn't want him to see you like this, in pain in your mind and back, in longing for the wind through your hair. You knew he'd noticed your behaviour, he was the spy master, you'd only hoped... only hoped he didn't care as much as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and braced yourself for shouting.

Azriel stood there, looking regal and beautiful. His back was too the balcony, the door open and wind rusting his wings and sheets. His hands were behind his back and his gaze was... soft? It wasn't dark with anger or clouded in annoyance.

It was just Az.

'Azriel,' you do your best to smile, clearing your throat. 'What are you doing? I thought you had flying with Feyre?' you were trying but you were also just you and you missed your wings.

'I'm teaching her anymore,' he said.

You chuckle. 'Is she that bad a student?'

'I'm sorry.'

You look up to him, taking out the cork of the wine. Rose filled your senses. 'For what?'

'That she flys when you don't,' he mentioned it simply, as if you'd already told him what was hurting you and he'd accepted it.

You hadn't said it. You wouldn't. You hated yourself enough for being weak, you didn't need him, perfect Azriel, caring Azriel, to see how horrid your jealousy had made you. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'y/n,' he steps close to you, taking the bottle from you. He drops it at his side but no smash is delivered. The shadows swallow it up. 'Why won't you talk, instead of drowning yourself in pain?'

'I'm not drowning myself in anything,' you deny, moving away from him to close the balcony door. The air drifting in and moving everything but you only mocked.

'You can't fly,' he said.

Your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 'Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me.'

His boots sounded close behind her and he took her shoulders. He didn't force her to turn around, he only held her gently and soothed his thumbs over the knots in her back. 'You can't fly and words don't exist to tell you how sorry I am. If I could i'd give you the own wings off me back-'

'Don't say that.' The only thing worse than your pain, was Azriel going through it all.

'I would and I mean it just to see you smile again, if only for a second. I'd be glad to give them up,' he whispered. Your shoulders slumped under his grasp and he sighed in relief, it was better than tensing up again. 'I miss you smiling. I miss you laughing. I miss you smiling at me. I'm sorry if teaching Feyre to fly has hurt you.'

'It wasn't you, Az,' you turn in his hold, never letting him feel like it was his fault. In doing that, you admitted to being bothered. 'I can't be who I was, because I don't know how. And I don't want to try to only fail.'

He listened, hands trailing down your arms to rub.

You gulp. 'And it's not just losing the wings, it's everything I lost with it. Freedom. I can't join you or Cas, or anyone when you take to the skies. How am I going to cope in battle? I can't run as fast as I can fly, I can't fight as well. I can't hit Cassian over the head when he's being an idiot, I can't-I can't wrap them around you when we hold each other, and it's painful to think of everything I've lost when I've gained nothing.'

He listened, tears watering his gaze. You had not lost any of that, not to him.

'And Feyre,' you pulled away, crossing your arms around each other and looking out the window. 'I don't hate her, I wish I could but I can't. But she's been Fae for five seconds and she has everything I've ever wanted. Wings. My brother loves her. She's happy. I hate it and I hate myself.'

Your confession weighed your gut but your chest rose in a deep breath. You couldn't see Azriel behind you in the reflection of the windows and you couldn't hear him.

He'd gone. Of course he'd left, you'd whined about what you'd lost when you were at least alive. You'd complained about the High Lady- treason in Rhysand's book.

No, you were all alone.

But you weren't.

Az crept behind you and slowly- so you could pull away- wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest and matched his breaths with yours. 'I won't insult you by saying I get it, because I could never. But that time, when I found you after you'd lost your wings, I thought i'd lost you and that-that is how I imagine your feelings. Because I stopped breathing and I didn't think happiness would ever be in the world again. And your blood, you bleeding out has been in my nightmares since. If my hands were to be stained with it, let them, because it was the last thing i'd ever have of you.'

You had no idea. He'd felt terrible yes and been there the weeks and months it took to heal but you'd been so full of pain and guilt you hadn't thought of how he fared. Your greatest friend... your lustful secret.

Your hands came up to hold his arms.

'You do not have to be who you were before,' he whispered, head resting on your shoulder. 'Become better. Become something more. As for training, you're the strongest woman I know and still the only person I'd trust with my life.'

A tear escaped you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. 'And you can still hit Cass as much as you like.'

You laugh through tears, holding onto Az like he was the last thing anchoring you to yourself.

His wings slowly inched over you. 'And I will hold you all day, every day till I die, and i'll keep you safe.' His wings closed around the two of you as yours used to do.

Neither of you realised how much you'd missed it, needed it, craved it until it happened.

You'd lost your wings, but you had never and would never lose him.

[ivorivet]

Fellowship Cloak Weaving Draft

Hi all! I've been kind of quiet on this blog, but I have something really exciting to share today: after six years, I FINALLY figured out the weaving draft for the Fellowship cloaks from Lord of the Rings.

This is a problem I've been trying to figure out since shortly after I made my Legolas cosplay in 2018. The cloaks that the nine members of the Fellowship receive in Lothlórien look like a nondescript gray fabric from far away, but zoom in and you'll see a very complex pattern of horizontal and vertical bars of dark gray and white.

(First image from Alleycatscratch, second is a photo of the scarf of the same fabric I bought from Stansborough where I was attempting to trace the pattern repeat with orange thread)

This is going to be a long post, so I'm just going to lead with the completed draft:

Imagine me Will Smith wife posing at this for the last 24 hours.

It's got the correct size of pattern repeat! It's got the five individual ripples! It's got that dumb little pattern break in the middle that breaks up the center of the leaf motif! I am OVER THE MOON about figuring this out, especially starting out with very little knowledge about weaving drafts in general. More ramblings about this type of draft and my thought process below:

This particular pattern is known as "shadow weave," a subset of color-and-weave where the pattern is created from the interplay of different warp and weft colors plus the weaving draft itself. To get an idea of how that works, let's start by looking at plain weave in one color:

The solid purple bar at the top indicates the color of the warp threads, and the solid purple bar at the right indicates the color of the weft threads. So far we've got our basic under-over-under-over pattern in a single, solid color (purple). But what if we add an additional color (green) to the warp, and alternate those colors? Then we'd get a speckled fabric like this:

The visual effect looks pretty much identical regardless of if you start with green or purple. However, if you also alternate purple and green in the weft, it produces a very different effect depending on if you start with purple or green (note the differences in the bar on the right):

So cool, now we can make either vertical or horizontal stripes! If you double up on the colored threads in some areas, you can even flip between the two and start dividing the fabric into "blocks," like so:

Note that with all these changes, the only thing we've been doing is changing the order of the colors in the warp and weft. The actual weave structure itself is still just regular ol' plain weave. The pattern that we've created in the pictures above is called "log cabin," which you can read about here. But similar effects can be created by skipping shafts/picks in the weaving draft as well. So how do we get from log cabin into the more complicated and general category of shadow weave?

It's weird to describe how to convert a given pattern into shadow weave. There are multiple very good books with chapters on shadow weave as well as books entirely dedicated to it. Despite my best efforts, all these explanations still got so technical so fast it feels like, to me at least, asking a 6 year old to recite an entire Shakespeare play verbatim immediately after confirming that they can, in fact, sing the alphabet song. So I'm going to give my best shot at explaining it, and if it doesn't make sense, just blame it on me and check out some of the linked books above if you're really curious.

Think of shadow weave as a beauty filter for a black and white drawing. If you create a pattern out of black and white blocks/pixels/whatever, the shadow weave "filter" can be applied to it to create a similar pattern that preserves the shapes in the original, but makes them out of vertical/horizontal lines instead of solid color blocks. So in some of these books you'll find mention of converting a twill or an overshot pattern into shadow weave - that's what this is referencing. The original pattern (usually designated with light yarn) gets a secondary shadow pattern (in dark yarn) inserted into in between every other thread (also called an "end" when referencing warp yarns).

I got stuck at this point for literal years. I could find examples of weaving drafts using shadow weave, but couldn't figure out how to generate ones of my own. I imported some of the drafts I found in books into weaving software and poked around to see if I could push the patterns in the direction I wanted by changing individual elements. My experiments in changing individual warp ends and weft picks always ended up looking like stretched or compressed versions of the original pattern (when I was being careful), or incomprehensible garbage (when I was being daring). I even bought a sample of the fabric from Stansborough in the form of a scarf, thinking I could brute force it by using a magnifying glass to figure out the interlacements. I was able to figure out how large the pattern repeat was (approximately 160 x 80 ends), but otherwise I got nothing but eye strain. I ended up tabling the project and coming back to it every couple years, banging my head against it until I gave up.

Until one day last week when I was flipping through the Strickler book and saw this page:

And I was like

HOLD UP

IT'S HER

...or at least a close cousin of her. BUT IT WAS A START.

So the first step was to identify what about this pattern needed to change in order to make this look like the Fellowship cloak. Overall, the main differences were:

Pattern repeat on Strickler 304 was too small - it was 42 x 42 ends and I needed it to be somewhere in the ballpark of 80 x 80 before altering the repeat.

The Fellowship pattern has a weird vertical dividing line that runs down the middle of the leaf motif, effectively doubling the width of the repeat by creating two similar looking but different leaves. This was the change I was least concerned about, as flipping between vertical and horizontal lines is pretty a straightforward process as shown above with the log cabin draft.

Strickler 304 also has a different number of waves (peaks and valleys, or whatever you want to call them) compared to the Fellowship pattern. There are 3 waves in Strickler and 5 in Fellowship. Figuring out how to add these extra waves was the biggest obstacle for me to address.

And finally, a couple of things I didn't need to care about for the weaving draft: 1) the Fellowship pattern is elongated in the warp direction, but this has more to do with a little extra spacing between weft picks as compared to the warp threads. When weaving this you'd just need to make sure you don't beat it very hard and you'll get that tall rectangle shape instead of a square repeat. 2) Both patterns have mirrored symmetry around a diagonal line drawn through the center, meaning that for treadling I could "tromp as writ" or basically just mirror the threading diagram to get the treadling instructions. For reasons I can't figure out, the Strickler pattern isn't exactly tromp as writ but looks close enough to it that the effect is still there. But I don't really care enough to figure out why - the important thing is that it gives us a threading diagram to start with!

So to start with, here's what Strickler 304 looks like in my weaving software:

(By the way, this is Fiberworks PCW Bronze. The trial version is free, and the only difference between that and the paid version is that the save/print options are disabled. I'm not sure they know about screenshots, bless their hearts.)

This is a design for 8 shafts and 8 treadles, thus the 8x8 square in the upper right corner. And you can see in the threading diagram (upper horizontal bar) and treadling diagram (right bar) that the curvature of the waves takes a similar shape to the curves of the final pattern. We just have to figure out why. And since I had already tried changing individual warp ends and treadling patterns without much success, I needed to approach in a different way.

What ended up helping me see the forest for the trees was de-shadowifying the pattern. It's relatively easy to get the black-and-white version of the pattern from the threading draft - you just need to delete the shadow, which means removing every other warp end. This is what deleting all the dark ends from the warp and light ends from the weft looks like:

We can also see with a little more detail how the threading diagram is similar to the curve in the pattern. The pattern is 21 pixels tall, but it's been chopped up to repeat over 8 shafts, like so:

OKAY COOL COOL COOL. EVERYTHING'S COMIN' UP MILHOUSE IVORIVET. From this green squiggly line we know two things:

The final number of warp ends in the shadow weave pattern is double whatever the height of the squiggle is. In the case of the Strickler pattern, we're going from 21 to 42. Since we know that we need our final height for the Fellowship pattern needs to be 80, the squiggle for that pattern needs to be around 40 pixels tall.

We needed to stitch three repeats of the Strickler threading diagram together in order to see the full squiggle. How many waves does the Strickler pattern have? Three. How many waves does the Fellowship pattern need? Five. How many shafts do we have to work on? Eight. What is 5 x 8? 40!!!

So how about we make a NEW squiggle, only 40 pixels high instead of 21? (We're gonna drop the pixels in blue, since threading diagrams won't work if you put a single end through two shafts.)

Next, we're going to chop up that squiggle and use it to create a new threading diagram in Fiberworks. I'm also using "tromp as writ" here to create the treadling pattern.

LOOK AT THAT. IT'S GOT MORE WAVES!! FIVE OF THEM!

And then we add back in the shadow by creating a space for a new end between each existing end:

And then add in the shadow. I'm using 4 as my number for the shadow offset since we're using 8 shafts. So shaft 1 shadows to shaft 5, shaft 2 shadows to shaft 6, etc.

And we're going to apply tromp as writ again to get:

AYYYYYY WE'RE GETTING CLOSE! I'm fairly certain that the reason why the Strickler treadling wasn't exactly tromp as writ had something to do with centering the pattern repeat a little more than this, but I don't really care about that so I'm going to leave this treadling the way that it is.

From here out, we need at add that weird vertical dividing line that chops up the center of the leaves. So we double the pattern repeat along the horizontal axis, and offset a 40 pixel section in the middle of the threading diagram by 1 pixel. I've also colored in the differences between the dark and light ends to help differentiate the original and shadowed curves a little bit more. (I also tried offsetting the colors of the warp ends by 1 as well like what we did in the log cabin example, but I ended up liking the way that this looked more.)

THERE SHE IS!!! MY PRECIOUS!!

From here on out, there is still a ton of work I need to do if I actually want to weave this cloak from scratch. I did buy roving in quantities that could be used to spin both the dark and light yarn (dark gray Gotland for the dark yarn, and dove gray merino + white alpaca for the light yarn), but there's still the matter of, like, handspinning a cloak's quantity of extremely fine yarn. I did start spinning the Gotland several years ago as fine as I could possibly manage, and got through maybe 20 ounces of it. However, I'm a much better spinner now and I'm not sure if the my skeins from several years ago would be suitable for weaving, or if it would be worth replicating what I did back then vs. just starting over with a new standard. There's also the possibility of just... buying weaving yarn if I want to skip that step, which would definitely save me a significant amount of time.

Anyway, thanks for reading this far and I hope it helped break down why this was so exciting for me!

[plethorawrites]

can I request Damian x reader but reader is like the opposite she’s clumsy and messy (NOT DIRTY SHES JUST NOT REALLY ORGANIZED) and at first Damian is like no way I could ever like someone like that but then he’s like oh shit I think I like her you don’t have to do it but it was just an idea

(A/N- This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit because people are STILL calling me racist, so I've seriously considered wiping Damian from my page completely. But I love him as a character way too much to do that, so here we are!) (Requests are open again, btw!)

---

Despite being rather pretentious because of his upbringing, I think anytime Damian Wayne is assigned to do a group project, he'd want to go to someone else's house. They usually live in squalor (Middle class) but he deals with it for a few hours because it beats having his classmates fawning over his older brother's or asking his dad if he really used to date Harvey Dent or if that's just a rumor.

Usually, despite the condition of the house (Aka having a dish rack on the counter.) the room they'd work in was pretty clean. But you? Oh, no, no, no. He almost had a heart attack when he saw the state of catastrophe your study room was in.

Books on the ground instead of on the shelves, chair pulled out from the desk instead of tucked in, tons of sticky notes scattered on the walls and reminders pinned up. No one could have that short of a memory, could they? You seemed to.

The number of loose papers on the desk, the open notebooks with illegible writing, fidget toys to relieve stress or increase your focus, cups from when you needed coffee for a late-night study session that hadn't made it all the way to the dishwasher yet. (But it was on the sticky note! Right under the reminder to check your email.

Was that a thing people needed to remember to do?

He was utterly perplexed by the chaos you seemed so comfortable in. What he found most odd though, was how you never made any effort to fix it. He had been to your house three times thus far, trying to make a dent in the project that would take at least another week and each time, your room was the same. He even offered to help you organize (For his own sanity) but you turned him down, claiming you liked it how it was.

"How could anyone possibly like studying like this?" he questioned.

You shrugged. "I find having a pristine desk makes me uncomfortable, like I'm not actually doing work in a space I can relax in," you explained. "Plus, research shows environments like this increase brain productivity."

Damian wasn't sure if he believed that for a single second. But you clearly seemed to.

"But it's so messy," he muttered, motioning to your desk, so covered in God knows what that he couldn't even see what color the wood was.

"It's disorganized, not messy," you retorted. "And I know where everything is. Pencil sharper is by the white out because I use both rarely, erasers are where all the pencils are because I stab the led into them when I'm bored, highlighters are the ruler, which is.... under the syllabus I printed at the start of the year."

You pointed at everything as you said it and he slowly came to the realization that you weren't lying when you said you weren't messy. You kind of, in some weird way, had a system that worked.

Still, it felt uncomfortable for him. For a while. He'd watch you chew on your pencil and reach for tape that came from he didn't even know where, seemingly materializing things out of thin air. You barely even sat in the chair, he realized. He was always the one sitting in it, watching you sit or lay on the floor.

The only time Damian was ever on the floor was when Titus knocked him down or he got beat by his brothers during sparring. (Not that it ever happened..psh, no, don't be absurd.)

He slowly got a bit more accustomed to your room, even starting to find a bit of comfort whenever he stepped into it. It was welcoming, in a way, he'd come to think. When had that happened?

"Aren't you supposed to leave by eight?" you asked him, stretching your arms over your head as you sat on the floor across from him.

Damian frowned, looking at the time. He realized it was already 7:55. Had it already been four hours? It seemed like he just sat down on your rug, which, was surprisingly comfortable.

He hated to admit how much more productive he felt sitting on the floor than at a desk. "Uh, yes, right," he nodded, standing up and stretching as well. "I think we can probably get this finished by Tuesday," he added, feeling a weird pang of disappointment by the thought.

You nodded. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow at four, then," you told him, watching as he packed up his books neatly, the pages fitting back in the nice folder perfectly. "Unless you wanna stay," you suddenly found yourself offering. "For dinner, I mean. If...if you want to. No pressure."

Damian paused, caught off guard by invitation. He stared at you for a few minutes, lips parting but words not leaving his mouth. Dinner? That was probably going to last at least an hour or two. Longer if your parents were the kind to serve dessert or chat a lot. He might not get home until ten or later.

"Sure," he agreed abruptly, though logically he knew he should refuse. He was supposed to be asleep by nine so he could get some rest before patrol. "I'd love to stay for dinner," he remarked, setting his bag back down for what wasn't one or two hours like planned, but four and a half.

How he would explain getting home past midnight to his father, he wasn't sure yet. But he'd find a reasonable excuse. After all, his dad was the one who told him to find normal friends and he was just doing what he asked.

...You were just his friend, right?

[dumpywrites]

Forget-me-not - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Treat me like yours again for a week before you let me go.”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Angst (happy ending), drama, idol Yoongi, engaged au, lots of hurtful pinning

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

Word count: 7.6k

a/n: I've been really down the past couple of days and it turns out it inspire me to finish this story (I've been keeping it on my drafts for months T_T) Also, did you catch that ot7 live??? cus I'm still crying 😭😭😭

“You’re calling it off? Just like that?!”

The taste of the apple that you just bit was suddenly bitter in your mouth. It was a quiet Monday night when you were enjoying your alone time, eating fruits and reading e-books through your tablet. You knew your fiancé was going to come home around this hour. You just did not expect the news he brought along with him. 

It had been a little under a year since both of you decided to live together. You moved soon right after he proposed to you, but his schedule being so full, he was barely even home. 

It was just a blessing and a curse at the same time, him being an idol. While the group activities had slowed down recently, with the other members focusing on solo projects outside of BTS, Yoongi had only gotten busier. Just a few months after your engagement he got to finally establish his own record label. Of course you couldn’t be more happier for him, but higher position also came with higher responsibilities. 

The investor meetings, press conferences, artist assessments, and your man being Suga from BTS himself, still had some idol duties on the sides. 

But you were used to it. You were used to him being booked and busy. You had loved him for the longest time to understand that as much as you hated being far apart from him, you equally loved seeing him in his element, making music, putting smiles on millions of people’s faces. Because Yoongi’s happiness was yours too after all. 

So it was a shocking, humiliating even, for him to just come and said the vile statement he just said to you. He just got back from two weeks of his abroad job, and he chose to bring this news to you as a present. 

“I just think with how things are, I don’t have time for you. This is clearly hurting both of us so it’s better this way.” He said, expression blank and it was hard to read. 

“Yoongi, I’ve dated you for three years before getting engaged to you. I know your schedules and I’m used to it.”

“It’ll be different when we are married.” 

“It won’t.” You argued. 

“It will.” He sighed. “It will only get worse when we get married.”

“You do realize you get breaks and day offs, right? I can wait.” 

“I own a company now.”

You looked at him to see his expression. It was still blank as he stood in front of you. Sometimes you hated how stoic he could be, especially when he wanted to. It was breaking you, but you chose to remain collected. 

“If that’s your priority, then I get it.” 

You stood up from your seat with a big sigh. You saw his pupil moved in a frantic way for a second, before going back to normal. 

“I’ll move, you can have the—“

“One week.” You said, looking at him straight in the eye. 

He looked at you, stopping his sentence. 

“Treat me like yours again for a week before you let me go.” You folded your arms. “After that you can leave and we’ll be on our separate ways.”

Yoongi’s mouth opened, before it quickly closed to a stretched straight line. He looked like he was about to say something but he chose not to. He nodded his head at you, sighing. 

“Okay.” Was all he said to you. 

You took one last look at him before walking away, heading to the bedroom. You wondered if you could catch any sleep that night. 

When moonlight came Yoongi chose to sleep next to you, after all, that was what you had asked him to do. To treat you like his again, even just for the week. You had some hours alone with your mind, you had some thoughts of how you would act when he slip into the covers with you, but when it happened you really didn’t know what to say. For some time he only laid there, unmoved, and you started to wonder if he just fell asleep like that. 

You knew you had told him to do so, but it still didn’t hide the pain you were feeling when he slowly moved closer and hugged you from behind. He knew you were not asleep, of course he did. He always did. He didn’t say anything, just resting his forehead on your head, one hand over your waist to hold you close. You could feel his heartbeat and without knowing, the tears just started flowing on its own. You bit your lips, in hope that he wouldn’t notice, but then his thumb started to draw circles on your forearm. Maybe he noticed, maybe he did not. He chose to not comment about it though, which you were glad. That was why you chose not to say anything either when you felt your shoulder damp, some water droplets fell on your hair and onto your skin. 

DAY 1

The next morning you were awaken by noises coming from the kitchen. You thought he would be up in his studio at this hour, him being a light sleeper and all, but it seemed like he was cooking something at eight in the morning, judging by the delicious smell. You quickly brushed your teeth and head out to check on him. 

“Are you cooking?” You asked, slowly approaching him in the kitchen. 

“Yeah.” He said as he stir the rice on the wok.

You looked at him, giving him a funny look. 

“What?” He raised one of his eyebrows before turning up the stove’s heat, adding some minced meat on what seemed to be fried rice. 

“Nothing, it’s just that you don’t usually cook so early in the morning.” You said, retreating back and took a seat on the dining chair. You sighed, figuring it was just his acts for the week. 

“I haven’t cooked for you in a while.” He said, still string the food. “I also thought you would be up a little later.“

“I smelt the food, plus it was odd to find you in the kitchen at this hour instead of in your studio.” 

“You could, you know… sleep some more. If you want to.” He said with his back facing you as he cooked. 

“I’d rather watch you cook.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see. 

Soon he came to the dining table with two plates in his hands, one that he placed in front of you, and one for himself. The smell of the food filled the room and you started to salivate. It was just a simple dish but knowing who cooked for you made it different. Yoongi went back to grab two glasses of water for both of you, before finally sitting down across of you. 

You were a tad bit anxious seeing the piercing look on his eyes, waiting for you to take a bite. And when you did, he immediately wanted a feedback. 

“So?”

“I like it. Has the right amount of spiciness.” You said with food still in your mouth. “You should cook this more often.” 

Your expression dropped when you realized that your request was soon about to be impossible, given the situation. Quickly, you looked down, choosing to focus on eating instead. 

“Glad you like it.”

You ate in silence after that, the kind of quiet that wasn’t as sharp as before. There was still pain between you, but it had been placed in the corner for now, like a box no one wanted to open just yet.

When he stood to rinse his plate, you said without looking up, “Do you remember the first time we made breakfast together?”

He paused at the sink. “You tried to make pancakes but used salt instead of sugar.”

“And you still ate them like an idiot.”

“I was trying to impress you.”

“By eating salted cement?” You asked with an amused smile. 

He grinned too. For a moment, the version of Yoongi you missed most stood there in front of you. Not the artist with the world on his shoulders. Just a man who once came to your apartment with multiple packets of different sizes of pads because he got too shy to ask which would be the appropriate one.

You watched him dry his hands, eyes focused on the towel. Something in his jaw tightened.

“Right.” You bit your inner cheek, trying to compose yourself. “How’s Namjoon by the way? I miss his little kid.” You started another topic, to drift away. 

“His son is doing fine and so is he.” He said and started eating as well. “I think his wife is expecting another…” 

“Really?! Wow, look at him… And to think he told us he didn’t want any children before…” You chuckled. “That guy is whipped. I’m happy for him.”

Yoongi looked at you and smiled. “Yeah.”

You and Yoongi had never mentioned anything about wanting kids in your life. The topic just somehow never came up. You used to want children in your family, but lately with how things with your work and Yoongi’s schedules, you figured it would be too much. Plus, you always had fear of change, and the idea of pregnancy scared you just a bit. But you had never heard anything from Yoongi if he wanted any or not. It would be too late to ask anyway. 

“Have you ever thought of having kids?”

You almost choked on clear water. “I’m sorry?”

“We never really talked about it before…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Do you?” You shot the question back at him.

“I never really thought about it but, I’ve always thought that I want whatever you want.”

Clearly not. You thought to yourself. “I… I used to want it. But seeing how busy both of us can be sometimes, I don’t think it’s possible. There’s enough people in this world anyway, we don’t need any mini me around.” You giggled. 

“A mini you sounds adorable.” His smile quickly faded when he seemed to realize his words. 

“I don’t think so. Kinda not possible with how we are now after all…” You gave a sad smile. 

“I—”

“No, let’s not talk about it.” You heaved a sigh and gave him another smile, even though you started to feel your eyes getting teary. 

The rest of the day was spent with the two of you just watching your old favorite movies together. You didn’t cuddle, but both of you rested your heads on each other and it was enough comfort for you. 

DAY 2

This time when you woke up, Yoongi was still asleep. Movie marathoning was fun until it was four in the morning and both of you overslept on the couch. You found Yoongi sleeping, head resting on your lap, and the urge to run your finger through his hair was high, but you didn’t want to risk waking him up in the process. He looked so calm, and you missed just seeing him like this. He always looked like a cat, especially when he was asleep. He would even sometimes let out noises that sounded like a purr. 

You let yourself sleep more, maybe another ten minutes. 

The sound of the phone ringing could be heard from the table, Yoongi’s ringing and vibrating on it. He took the call and sounded like he was never asleep. Sometimes you wonder how he could behave so inhumane like that. 

He looked up when he noticed you staring. “What is it?”

You hesitated. “Let’s go out after your call.”

“Out? Don’t you have meeting today?”

“I’ve taken the week off.” You simply said.

Yoongi hesitated for a moment, before speaking. “Where to?”

“The bookstore cafe. The one near the station. Remember? That place… we haven’t been there in a while.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “We used to go all the time.”

He didn’t answer right away, and you wondered if he’d say no. Maybe the week you asked for was already too heavy for him. But he just nodded. 

“Yeah. Okay. After the call.”

The cafe was exactly the same. It smelled like spiced tea and old pages, the lighting was still dim in that warm, cozy way, and the bookstore shelves remained haphazard and charmingly messy. There was a new girl behind the counter, but the man who used to run the place, Mr. Han, was still stood in his usual spot by the register, glasses perched halfway down his nose.

“Well, well! Look who crawled back from the dead…” Mr. Han said with a teasing smile.

You laughed. “Don’t say that, you’ll scare the tourists.”

Yoongi offered a polite smile, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Sorry we disappeared.”

“You two were the royalty of table six.” Mr. Han said, nodding toward the back. “You left a hole when you stopped coming.”

That made Yoongi pause. You tugged him by the sleeve toward your old booth before he could slip into guilt.

The booth was still tucked into the corner, the cushions worn and soft from years of use. It had seen a lot. Your first real conversation after weeks of quiet flirting, being in all masks and hoodies, your first fight over miscommunication and missed texts, Yoongi’s confession on an evening when he looked terrified and brave all at once, to when you could finally date in normal attire after deciding to publicize your relationship. 

You slid into the seat and glanced across at him. “Do you remember that night you asked me if I’d be your emergency contact?”

He snorted. “I remember the shock in your face.”

“You asked me if I want to be the first one to get called if you die… with the straightest face.” You argued. 

“You still said yes.”

You shrugged, smiling as you looked to the ceiling. “I was so in love with you.”

He flinched. It wasn’t visible, not really. But you knew Yoongi too well. You knew how his eyes darted slightly when something hit too close, how his fingers tightened a fraction against the cup of coffee he had in his grasp. You didn’t push. 

You looked out the window and said, “We had some good memories here.”

“Yeah.” Was all he replied back. 

You spent two hours there, talking mostly about books you never had time to read and music he’d been working on. You showed him a ridiculous meme on your phone, and he actually laughed. He laughed like he used to. The wall between you cracked just slightly.

When it was time to go, you thanked Mr. Han and waved goodbye. Outside, the wind bit at your cheeks, and you tucked your hands into your coat pockets. Yoongi hesitated beside you.

“You looked really happy in there.” He said, his voice soft.

“Because I was.”

He glanced over. “It’s been a while since I saw you like that.”

You met his eyes. “That’s what happens when you disappear into work.”

He didn’t defend himself and just nodded quietly. But he didn’t walk away either. He walked with you to the car, his shoulder brushing yours the entire way.

At night before you head to bed, he pulled you gently and placed the lightest kiss on your temple. It could be just you but you saw a glimmer of hope in him. Or it could be the agreement playing the part. 

DAY 3

You were awoken by Yoongi’s eyes staring at you. He greeted you with a warm smile, uttering a good morning to you. You smiled back, scooting closer in his embrace, salivating the moment. 

This was how a normal morning goes for you, at least when he was home. Sure you would always miss him when he went away for his concerts, tour, or any other job that required him to be not home, but every time he came back, the feelings would always just reset. It was so easy, so effortless, to forget when you see his face and feeling him close to you again. He made it easy. 

“Any plans today?” He asked, resting his chin on top of your head, embracing you still. 

“This,” You smiled with your eyes closed. “This is the plan.” 

“As much as I’d love that, we gotta eat something.” He chuckled. 

“Nope.” You giggled. 

You ended up snuggling and sleeping in for the next two hours and a half, until you heard your own stomach rumbled. 

The day was supposed to be a slow day with little to no work to do. Yoongi had some songs that needed quick revision, but nothing he couldn’t do at the comfort of his home studio. 

You decided to bring him some coffee to his studio. There he was leaning back on his chair with his headphones on, bopping his head a few times to the beat that was unheard. 

“Yoongi?” You called upon entering the room. He didn’t seem to notice you until you placed the cup of coffee on his table. 

“Oh, thanks.” He said after removing his left earpiece and took a sip of the beverage. “Just a few tuning and I’ll be done.” 

“Take your time.” You said, taking a chair next to him. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Never.” He said without meeting your gaze as his eyes went back to the monitor screen. 

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit tensed and leaned against the seat.

“Do you wanna listen?” 

“Oh?” You were taken aback. “It’s done already?”

“It’s just the instrumental. Jungkook will sing the song.” He said after clicking some buttons. 

“What’s the title?” You rested your hand on top of the table. 

“Haven’t really decided on it but…” He stopped and removed his earphones entirely. “Here, let me show you the lyrics.” He handed you his notebook. 

You skimmed through the lyrics and wondered to yourself. Since when did Yoongi learn to write corny and cheesy love song? And the more you read through it, the description, the tiny mentioned details, it sounded like he was so smitten that he had to pour his entire feelings out on this song. Mind you this was the same guy who wrote and performed Daechwita. 

“You’re telling me you wrote this?!” You said while still re-reading the lyrics. 

“What’s with the judgmental look?” He looked at you in disbelief. 

“It’s just— Yah, have you ever even fell in love like this?! This doesn’t sound like you.” You frowned.

“I wrote this years ago.” He smiled, taking another sip of the coffee you made him. “This was way before we were even a thing.” 

Your expression turned sour. “So it’s about an ex?”

“Silly, it’s about you.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “It’s about me?!”

He puffed a breath and smiled, showing his gummy grin. “It clearly said, you looked through me beyond the glamour.” He pointed at the notebook that was still in your hands. “You were quite literally our makeup artist’s assistant for two years.”

It was true. You used to work under Big Hit for a while until you decided to resign. You and your friends took a huge risk and decided to start your own private brand, and so you needed to step back from the company. 

The job was how you met Yoongi and the rest of the boys. Somehow you would often get assigned to do his makeup. Yoongi was rather quiet the first few gigs, but judging by the cold exterior you thought he’d be rude, but he ended up being the sweetest man you had ever known. Second to Jimin of course because that man’s an angel. 

It was that one time you accidentally dropped a bottle of foundation on the floor. You just started the job, barely four weeks into it, and you already did something so fatal. You arrived early and there wasn’t anyone in the room, but the sound of the breaking glass was loud enough. The door soon opened and you were expecting it to be the head makeup artist, but much to your surprise, it was Yoongi who peeked through the door, asking about your well being. 

You were lost for words as your vision only went back and forth from your hands to the shattered glasses and the complexion colored mess on the floor. Seeing your shocked state, Yoongi calmly called the cleaners and told you to take a seat. There were multiple apologies and thank yous came out from your mouth before he just took out his phone from his pocket. He tapped on the screen and browsed through his apps before handing the phone to you, shocking you even more. 

“Here, just order the same one, the instant delivery is quite fast.” 

You were begging to pay him back, but Yoongi was a man of his words, so he kept resisting. One day you just showed up at the set and got him iced americano to show your gratitude, even though you knew the price tag wasn’t equal. And the rest was history. 

“Didn’t know you were into me like that.” Even though you were rolling your eyes, your cheeks couldn’t hide the pinkish glow. 

“I thought I told you that I basically had a huge crush on you when we first met.” He snickered. 

“You did, I just didn’t expect the romantic song…” You tried to avoid his gaze. 

“Come on, you genuinely think I would just buy you a bottle of overpriced makeup if I don’t have any ulterior motive?! Money was tight at that time, you know!” He laughed. 

You couldn’t help but to laugh as well. “To think that I fell for the sweet guy who helped me. Turns out he had malicious intent.”

“In my defense I would still help you nonetheless. I’d probably cover for you and makeup some bullshit. But the whole buying a new bottle was a smart way to get our connection going.” He proudly smirked. 

“We were so dumb back then, huh?” 

“I guess so.” He shook his head and smiled. 

“But I don’t regret a thing.” 

You said without thinking. You watched as the sparkle on Yoongi’s eyes went off and he quickly turned back to his computer screen. 

You spent that night looking at his back facing you, wondering if he ever regretted meeting you. 

DAY 4

You woke up with your bed empty. It wasn’t something that was new to you, in fact, you knew exactly where he was. 

This time when you found him in his studio, a low tune was playing. He turned his chair to your direction instantly upon hearing the door creaking open. 

You peeked with a tea in hand. “Were you up all night?”

“Only been here since five.” 

You carefully took a seat next to him, studying his facial features. He seemed distressed, you could clearly see the creases forming on his forehead. 

“What’s bothering you?” You asked. 

“You said we’d treat each other like before, right?”

Your eyes widened, but you remained calm. “Yeah?”

“Then let’s play music and just sit with me.”

At first you didn’t think too much about the song choices he made. Sure you had listened to them but so what, you were aware that both of you had similar taste in music. But by the time the third song played, your heart clenched. It was your playlist. The one he’d made for your third anniversary. 

When “free love” by HONNE started playing, you knew it was over for you. You could recall exactly when the song started playing, and Yoongi had a bouquet of peonies in his hands, walking sheepishly to you in your old apartment. He had never gotten you any flowers before. You just couldn’t see the appeal in buying impractical things when there were many more ways to show love. Everyone who had ever dated you were made aware of that. But one day you randomly mentioned that you sometimes wondered how would it feel to receive flowers romantically. Hence, why he did it. 

You remembered how it was awkward at first, both of you bursted into laughter for a good minute, before you took the flowers from his hands, and took his lips in yours. 

You turned to look at him, surprised. “Is this our…”

His eyes stayed on the screen. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you still had it.”

“I never deleted it.” He leaned back on his seat. “It’s a nice playlist to come back to when I’m stressed.”

You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood up and moved to the center of the studio room. Yoongi watched you with confusion in his eyes. 

Then you held your hand out. “Dance with me.”

“Are you serious?!” 

“Very.”

He raised an eyebrow. A small smirk appeared on his lips. “You know you suck at dancing.”

“You see women who dance well all the time, I’m seasoned differently.” You giggled. 

That made him laugh. A real one. The kind that showed his gums a little, made his eyes crease at the corners. You hadn’t seen that laugh in months. 

He did take your hand.

You danced barefoot in the studio, swaying slowly across the carpet as if time hadn’t moved at all. Your fingers curled in his shirt. His hand rested on your lower back, warm and familiar. It wasn’t romantic, not fully. But it was close. Too close.

I can't get you all that stuff

But I can give you all my love

Free love

Are the simple things enough?

I got to give you all my love

Free love

When the song ended, neither of you let go right away. And when you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you.

“Do you ever miss us?” You asked without giving further thought.

His breath caught. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. Like the words were right there, sitting behind his teeth, waiting to be let go.

“Let’s not talk about missing things today.” 

You nodded slowly, expression turning cold. “Okay.”

You stepped back, but your fingers lingered on his. He let them go last.

Soon he went back to his chair, eyes glued back to the multiple screens in front of him. You sat there in silence, not wanting to bother him but reluctant to leave. Your tea halfway empty, now cold, sitting on the desk. 

There was an opened notebook on the far left corner of his table. With some torn pages stuck in the middle, some looked crumpled and had torn edges. Some crossed-out lines, lyrics with arrows leading to new ones, some even scratched out entirely.

Your eyes fell on a section dated not many weeks ago. 

Daydreams don’t have deadlines. But love does, doesn’t it? How long can she wait before she stops?

Your whole body froze after you read the words. 

“I wasn’t going to use those lyrics.” He suddenly said, noticing where your attention was. 

“Is this about… us?” You asked with a cracked voice. 

Yoongi heaved a big sigh. “I didn’t know how to let you see me break.” 

“You thought I can’t handle it?” You asked, feeling offended. 

“I couldn’t handle you seeing it.” 

“That’s selfish.”

“I know.” 

A beat passed.

“Did you write that song for me? Or for you?”

“Both.” He simply said. 

Out of the blue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You got a text from Namjoon’s wife, Jieun, asking if you were free for the day.

Retreating from your seat, you told Yoongi about it and left him be in his studio. After giving her a call you found out that she wanted you to join her picking some baby clothes with her. Said because this time she was having a girl, maybe she needed help from you, with your background in stylist and all. Most importantly, she just wanted to catch up with you. 

“Do you think we got too much pink items for her?” Jieun said as she picked another pink baby dress. 

“There’s no such thing as too much pink.” You said, humoring the lady.

“It’s a bit stereotype-y though…” The mother frowned. 

“We could get some purple stuff too, her daddy is a Bangtan member after all…” You giggled. 

“With that logic, if you and Yoongi ever decide to have one, you should buy purple clothes for them as well.” She laughed. 

Your expression dropped gradually as you heard her words. You laughed away in hope she wouldn’t notice, but it seemed that it was already too late. 

“I’m sorry, was that a sensitive topic?” She asked with a worried look. 

“No, don’t worry.” You smiled, assuring her. 

“Your expression dropped when I mentioned that.” She walked closer to you. “Is everything alright? You could always tell me.”

You shook your head, sighing. “Things aren’t doing well between me and Yoongi…” You said as you took a seat on a random bench at the mall. 

Jieun gasped, immediately taking the seat next to you. “What happened?” 

“He wants to call off our engagement. It was just so… sudden??? He literally just came back from being away for weeks, and he came back just to tell me that?” The tone of your voice hitched. “Even told me that he’s gonna move out from our house… I… I don’t understand…” You looked down, tears started to form in your eyes. 

Jieun rubbed your shoulder, feeling herself getting teary as well. She hugged you. “Have you guys talk through it?”

“We have, and his only reason was because he thinks he’s too busy and it’s just gonna hurt both of us in the long run.” You sighed. “I told him that I’m already used to him being busy. I think I’ve told you before that even though I miss him, it’s always worth it the second I get to see his face again.” You bit your lips, trying to muffle a cry. “All he said was that he got a company now, which I can’t argue. So, I ended up agreeing…”

“Goodness… So that’s it? He’s just gonna leave???”

“I told him I want him to treat me normally and toss our problems aside for a week before leaving me.” You shrugged, mustering a grin even though you had tears rolling down your cheeks. “It’s what I came up impulsively…”

“I can’t believe Yoongi just decided it like that. I thought he was a rational person… You guys have been together for years, for heavens sake!” She said with anger. “When is he leaving?”

“I don’t know exactly, we haven’t really talked about it but our agreement’s supposed to end in three days…” 

“You should definitely try to talk to him about this again. It doesn’t sound like him to just decide things recklessly like that.” 

“I don’t know… he seems pretty content with his choice and I don’t think I can change his mind.” 

“You have to at least try, but if he still won’t budge, screw him. He doesn’t deserve you then.” She then gave you a hug again, caressing your back.

You let a few more tears flee as you hugged her back. 

On your way home you got a call from Yoongi, telling you there was an urgent meeting he had to attend. 

You spent the night alone again. 

DAY 5

By the time you woke up Yoongi was already up eating a toast with a coffee on his hand. You didn’t know when he got back or if he even slept in the night before, but you weren’t opposed to see him nonetheless. 

He fixed you a tea, added the right amount of honey, and asked if you wanted the same toast like he had. 

He seemed… calm. 

“What do you have on your schedule today?” You asked.

He glanced at his phone, then shrugged. “Nothing urgent. I’ve moved some things.”

That surprised you. He never moved things. Not for anyone. Not unless it was extremely crucial. 

You stared. “Why?”

“You asked me for the week.” Yoongi looked up, brow furrowed. “What do you want to do today?”

You swallowed a big lump. “I want to spend today with you.” 

You ended up in the park. It was the one near your old apartment before you moved into the bigger penthouse. Before tour dates. Before investors and board meetings and five day vanishing acts. Just the park with the willow tree you liked to sit under. The one where you had your first big fight but shared a kiss right after.

You brought boba tea. He brought a notebook. You sat beneath the willow and slurped the drink in silence, watching as Yoongi occasionally scribbled something down in that same black notebook from the studio.

“I thought you said you’ve moved things, but you’re writing lyrics?” You asked as you leaned closer to sneak a peek. 

“It’s nothing, I’m just scared that I’ll forget this…” He said, turning another page. “And I don’t want to.”

The wind rustled the tree above you, and you watched the way sunlight flickered between the leaves, golden and soft. Your heartbeat raced. 

“Well, I wouldn’t.” You said with a smile. The wind blew to your hair and you closed your eyes, feeling the breeze. 

“How do you know?”

“I don’t forget things that mattered.” 

And once again, Yoongi quietly nodded without a word. But he did put down the pen and stopped writing. 

You followed your heart and rested your head against his side, hugging his arm as you did. He still turned tense every single time you did something touchy in public. You knew it came with the job. He probably had it embedded in his mind that he had to do the least physical contact with the opposite gender, knowing eyes and cameras were everywhere. Even after you went public, it took him months to get comfortable going out without the coverups. 

You figured the habit would had stopped by now, but apparently not. 

“I’m sorry.” He suddenly voiced out. 

“If you’re sorry then don’t give up on us.” 

“I don’t want to continue hurting you.” 

“Yet you’re doing it right now.” 

He didn’t answer.

But you didn’t move away when his fingers slipped in between yours.

That night, you lay in bed beside him. You didn’t talk. You just curled toward each other, the space between you finally gone. And when Yoongi reached for you in the dark, tentative, slow, afraid. You let him. You let him hold you the way he used to.

Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you felt like he truly meant it. 

DAY 6

You woke up to the sound of rain.

It wasn’t the light, soothing kind. It was heavy pounding against the windows, tapping hard against the glass like the sky had something urgent to say. You rolled over instinctively and found Yoongi still asleep beside you, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. He was still holding you. He looked peaceful. 

For a long time, you didn’t move. You just watched him breathe, watched the way his lashes flickered slightly like he was dreaming. His features, usually so sharp with exhaustion, looked softer in the morning light. Younger. Like the version of him from the early days, before the CEO titles, before the international press, before he started measuring time in missed calls and delays.

He stirred, opened his mouth without opening his eyes. “You’re awake.”

“You’re sleeping in.” You commented. 

“It’s raining.” 

You stayed in bed most of the morning. No alarms. No calls. No meetings. It was the first time in… God, months that there wasn’t something else tearing him away. And maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the way his hand found yours under the blankets, but something about it felt different. Softer. Realer.

Eventually, you wandered into the kitchen together, sleep heavy and still in your pajamas.

Yoongi made pancakes. He burned the first batch and cursed under his breath, and you laughed so hard you had to sit down. He pretended to pout, but there was color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there in weeks.

Yoongi turned off the stove and came to sit across from you at the small dining table. He carefully placed the two plates on the table, with as he bit his inner cheeks, admiring his artwork. You ate in comfortable silence. 

You were washing the dishes when he suddenly asked from where he was seating. 

“Do you still believe in us?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were done with the dishes but you still had your back facing him, as you busied yourself wiping the plates just to avoid looking at his face. 

Part of you did. Part of you still saw the man who made you laugh with flour on his nose, who kissed your forehead when you couldn’t sleep, who wrote a love song in a spiral notebook just to keep from forgetting.

But there was another part. Smaller, quieter, but louder in recent months, that had grown weak and tired. Tired of holding everything up alone. Tired of waiting for your fiancé to look up and see you again.

So you told him the truth.

“I want to.” You sighed. “But I don’t want to keep holding onto something that you can easily decide to let go.” 

“Don’t say easy.” He quickly defended. “It was never an easy decision.” 

You finally turned and met his eyes. They looked slightly red and both of his hands were balled into fists. 

“I was tired.” He said softly. “I can bear the work but I can’t stand listening to you on the phone being all happy but then catching you cry yourself to sleep.” He looked down, feeling ashamed. “And I know you keep saying that you don’t mind, but I do… I mind it. I don’t want you suffering like that.”

“Honest to God, I don’t care how many times I have to cry.” You snapped. “I cry because I’m a human being with emotions. But it pays off. It always pays off seeing you come home to me. Because I love you, damnit. I fucking love you and I hate you for giving up.” Your voice shook, a single tear fell down from your right eye. 

Yoongi’s face crumpled like he had been slapped.

“I can’t give you a normal life…” His voice sounded so helpless and it broke you. “And I can’t just leave the responsibilities of the dream I’ve built in years.”

“I understand.”

Of course you did. You could never make him choose. You wouldn’t even dare. That wasn’t even logical. 

“I have my closure.” You said as you harshly wiped your tears. Forcing a smile, you took a deep breath. “We still have today and I don’t wanna waste it.”

The rain continued into the afternoon, thick and steady. You stayed indoors, the two of you moving through the house like a memory you both wanted to relive. Watching old dramas with your legs tangled on the couch. Sharing a blanket and a single bowl of popcorn. Pausing the show to argue about plot twists like you used to. You played the old board game that had been sitting on the rack for so long that it sprayed comically thick dust when you grabbed it. 

He kept reaching for you. Little things. A hand on your knee. His pinky curled around yours. Resting his chin on your shoulder when you went to get more snacks. 

And you let him. Because unlike what you said to him, you too were afraid of forgetting this. 

You ordered pizza and had Korean bbq for dinner. It seemed improper, impersonal. But both of you loved just sitting down and indulge in random what ifs, while sticking some beef and alcohol down your throats. 

You missed seeing his gummy smile. You missed him being a smartass and hearing his random philosophical thought about the whole society. You missed… him. 

If you knew it was going to be like this, maybe you shouldn’t had asked for the week. It would had been gentler for your heart. 

And when he climbed in beside you that night, he finally reached in and kissed you. You kissed him back. His fingers moved slowly across your body, like he was afraid you’d break just by a mere touch. His lips moved from your mouth, your cheek, down to your neck. By the time he reached your chest, your tears had fallen freely. 

It didn’t take him long to substitute the small hiccups to loud moanings of his name. 

DAY 7

The sound of items being stuffed and moved woke you up. Zipper dragged loudly, your mind immediately picked up on the situation. 

He was packing. 

It was the final day. Of course you didn’t expect him to stay much longer but it still felt so surreal seeing him packing his clothes and knowing the real intention behind it. 

You got up with your body still bare nude, you pulled the bedcover slightly over your chest. Your eyes met for a second, but he still kept going. You wanted to ask. Hell, you wanted to scream, cry, beg him to stay, but nothing came out from your mouth. 

“I ordered lunch.” He said, still busy with the packing. 

You didn’t realize that it was already noon. You quietly nodded and went to quickly shower yourself. You convinced yourself that you had accepted it all during the shower thinking session. 

You were about to get up and wash the dishes when he suddenly asked you. 

“Dance with me?”

You looked at him like he had gone insane. “There’s no beat.”

“I don’t care.” 

So you stood and you danced. No rhythm. No real steps. Just swaying and vulnerable, his forehead pressed to yours. And even now, no tears. Maybe it had all been dried up at this point. Maybe you really had finally came to terms with everything. 

“Do you remember when we danced like this in my old apartment?”

“In your old kitchen. I tripped on the rug and took you down with me.”

He chuckled lightly. “You kissed me afterwards.” 

“You looked beautiful in that moment. Like someone real.” You confessed. 

“I think I forgot how to be real for a while.”

You looked up and were surprised to meet his glassy eyes. 

And here when you thought you had accepted everything, he cupped your cheeks and your walls broke down again. 

“Give me a chance.”

“Wha— Yoongi, I thought you were leaving today.”

You panicked, cupping back his face so now both of you just grabbing each other faces like a couple of idiots. 

“Give me a chance,” He repeated. “But not out of obligation. Not because of what we had. Because I know we still can be.” 

Your heart thumped painfully. 

“I’ll find someone to train and take over my day to day. It’ll be a long process but if you’re willing to wait, I will have time for you…” A single tear quickly fell down and a desperate smile appeared on his lips. “I can’t promise you anything really, I hate myself for that. And I hate myself even more because I know you deserve better. Even though I know you deserve someone who would never make you feel neglected… I still can't think I can live without you.”

His voice finally broke as he sobbed. It was the very first time in years and years of knowing him. Sure you had seen him cry once or twice, whether from a good movie, to actual sadness. But never like this. 

Funnily enough, still, both of you were holding each other faces. You started breaking into tears too, finally after being in state of shock. 

“You don’t get to say all these things now and expect me to forget what it felt like when you asked to give up on us last week as if I meant nothing to you.” 

“I don’t expect that,” He said. “I just want a chance to earn your trust again, and a chance to be strong for myself.” 

“If I say yes,” You shuddered. “I don’t want it to be a restart. I want a repair. You have to rebuild from the cracks, not erase them.”

“I know.” He nodded, sniffing. 

“I need time.”

“You have the rest of my life.”

Your breath hitched. “I need you to stop thinking I’m weak because I can take it.” Finally, a smile appeared on your lips despite the tears raining down. “Because I can’t imagine living without you too.”

Yoongi exhaled, shoulders sagging with relief. But he didn’t reach for you right away. His hands were shaking, you felt it against your skin. He finally dropped his hands from your face. He waited.

You didn’t though. Instead leaned forward and pulled him in. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He held you back like someone who knew exactly what he had almost lost. He then kissed you like you were oxygen he desperately needed to survive. 

There was so much to learn, so much to fix. But you were sure you could face anything as long as you got him by your side.

Thank you for reading! 💍

[ferrstappen]

all because i liked a boy l MV1

a/n: so... hey, its been SO LONG! this is a series i've been thinking about since like September last year?? and it's been sitting on my drafts forever and finally got the inspo and some help to finish it <3 i really hope you like the concept <3 i have the idea for a fourth song but i'll wait to see if you guys like it <3

pairing: Max Verstappen x female!singer!reader

word count: 5.3

summary: three songs summarize your relationship with Max.

first song: into you - ariana grande

There wasn’t a single person who didn’t wish to be a fly on the wall everytime Max Verstappen met his fellow Tag Heur sponsor, a true pop star, and the stuff of all his problems. 

Max had never been too fond of all the publicity that came with his job, he mentioned it every time there was a chance to: “I’m only here to race”. His statement remained truthful, but he couldn’t deny he now looked forward some events, dressing up and showing up. 

He met her the same week she was announced as a brand ambassador in the middle of her world tour. It had been during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, thousands of cameras on them while posing. Max was never rude, but he noticed she looked almost nervous to meet him and anxious every time someone from her or the Red Bull PR team asked for some kind of contest, it all made sense when she apologized to him at the end.

“I know you’re not fond of these things so I hope you don’t hold it against me,” Those were the first words she said to him when there were no microphones on their clothes. Maybe someone was recording their interaction, but it wasn’t important. 

“What? I know you don’t have anything to do with it, I’m sorry if I came across as if I was bothered or something, I promise you I wasn’t. Plus, you must be exhausted as well,” Max said earning a smile from her and it was beautiful, kind. 

It made his own smile reach the crinkle by his blue eyes, lasting a bit longer than necessary for someone he just met, the taste of his champagne a little sweeter. 

(Y/N) spent the night stalking him and his girlfriend, she was stunning and they even had a small family of sorts. She had to remind herself he was just being nice, maybe too nice, but the adoration came from her part after hearing his laugh and realizing the smile reached his eyes, and the way his tongue pressed against his lips when his smile got too big, or how he held his breath every time he said something funny, waiting for her laugh.

And she was so weak for it, for him. Even if she wasn’t supposed to, but the events kept coming, the silk dresses and bold lipstick every time they saw each other, posing together, feeling Max’s big, warm hand on her back, hiding from the world to see. 

There was something quietly cinematic about hotel lobbies after midnight; the way the light softened, the silence pressed in, footsteps sounded hesitant, taxis coming and going every few minutes. Max wasn’t supposed to be there, not anymore at least. He’d said goodnight hours ago, disappeared into the elevator with a tired smile and the promise of an early flight.

But there he was.

Still in his suit, tie long forgotten, blond hair a little messier now, he sat at the far end of the bar with a half-finished gin and tonic and that unreadable look on his face, the one he always wore when his mind was loud but his words weren’t exactly ready.

(Y/N) hesitated in the entry to the lavish hotel bar, silk dress and Crocs, makeup a little smudged at the corners. She hadn’t expected anyone else to still be up, let alone him, but something about the way he looked at her: just once, then away, like it stung, made her cross the room anyway.

(Y/N) sat down two stools away, close enough to hear him breathe, far enough that they weren’t really next to each other, allowing to feel the space left between.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked softly.

Max didn’t look at her at first. Just shook his head. “No. Happens after race weekends sometimes. My brain doesn’t shut off, it’s annoying”

She nodded like she understood. Because she did, but still needed to add something. “Maybe if you didn’t spend your free time sim racing…”

He glanced over at her, briefly before chuckling. “Your performance was great tonight, I meant to tell you earlier.”

Her laugh was soft, tired. “You looked miserable the entire event.”

He smiled at that. A real one. The kind that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I was,” Max admitted. “But that part? I liked that part.”

Silence wrapped around them again, not heavy, just full; full of things they’d never said out loud. Full of questions neither of them had the right to ask.

She traced the rim of her glass with one finger. “She seems really lovely.”

Max’s jaw twitched, dreading the subject. “She is.”

(Y/N) didn’t look at him. She just nodded.

“You two look like you’ve got it all figured out.”

There was a pause.

Max exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

She turned her head slightly, finally meeting his eyes. “I hate how easy it is to talk to you.”

Something flickered in his expression. “I know,” he said quietly. “I hate it, too.”

That was it. That was everything.

No closeness. No touching. Just two people sitting in the space between what they wanted and what they’d already promised to other people. His fingers tapped against his glass. Her foot brushed the leg of the stool, never his. 

They never touched.

“I should go,” she said eventually.

Max nodded, blue eyes unreadable again. “Yeah.”

But neither of them moved right away. It was always like that, every moment together stretching a little too long, never enough to say it out loud, just enough to feel it.

“Goodnight, Max.”

As he listened to those words he looked at her, really looked. Eyes searching, almost soft, like if he were someone else, or if this were some other life, he might have reached for her hand.

But this wasn’t that story.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice low. “Get some sleep.”

And she walked away, yearning and aching, while he sat there and tried not to watch her go, downing the gin and tonic.

-

It had been weeks since Monaco, since the late-night conversations, the unspoken things that lingered between them like ghosts. Weeks since they’d exchanged half-joking texts about everything, from memes about their awkward PR moments fans were always catching to random race weekend observations. She had a unique way of making him laugh, of sending him a meme at the perfect time, of pulling him out of the swirling thoughts in his head, the never-ending doubts. 

They hadn’t met again. She’d been on tour, he’d been in the midst of a brutal racing schedule. Texting became their way of staying connected; casual, light, a little flirty at times, but never anything real. Max never tried to cross the line, he had a girlfriend after all. It wasn’t fair to her, to her daughter, maybe even the cats. And yet, a part of him couldn't shake the pull he felt toward (Y/N), the spark that crackled just beneath the surface of every message.

Tonight, though, something was different. He had his phone in his hand, staring at the screen, unable to stop scrolling through social media. Her new song had just dropped and everyone was talking about it.

Into You was everywhere. Fans were loving it, critics were praising her for its rawness, the production, the passion. But Max couldn’t ignore the comments, somewhere, buried among the endless comments of hearts, praise, flames and verified accounts, there was a new question being whispered in his direction.

Is this song about Max Verstappen?

At first, it was just one or two fans joking around in the comments, but the more he scrolled (something he wasn’t proud of), the more the question popped up. People started comparing lyrics, dissecting moments they’d shared, and the strange way they’d clicked, not the pairing people would expect. 

Max’s thumb hovered over the screen and his heart kicked up a little. He couldn’t shake the idea from his mind. 

Was it possible? Was the song about him?

It didn’t help that he hadn’t heard from (Y/N) in a few days. Maybe she was busy just like him, tour life and all that, but now the questions on his mind felt heavier. He clicked into their text thread, reading through the last few messages. She’d sent him a meme a couple of days ago, a funny one about him winning the race in Japan. He’d replied with a laughing emoji, as usual. It felt like the normal thing between them, but now everything felt loaded.

Max felt a sudden need to reach out, to ask her, but at the same time, he hesitated. What if he was just overthinking it? What if it was nothing? She was a pop star, a professional, she was just being friendly. He was that guy, the guy who made it awkward, not very expressive, with a girlfriend…

But then again... He had to know.

He tapped out a message, then deleted it, then tapped it again.

hey

I know you're busy, but are you okay? Haven't heard from you in a while.

A beat passed before he added another text, the words lingering like a weight on his fingers.

btw, i've been seeing a lot of stuff about your song.. people are asking if its about me.

Max thought his heart was going to explode, feeling the beating on his ears.  

Is it?

He immediately regretted it, his fingers hovering over the screen as he debated whether to just delete it all and pretend he didn’t do it. But before he could second guess himself, the text was gone. 

(Y/N) had just finished a soundcheck when she saw the notification. 

A new text from Max. 

Her heart had dropped when she saw his name on the screen. She had been trying to ignore the way people were talking about her song, trying to stay focused on the tour, but now? The thing with Max had been gnawing at her for weeks. They had their moments, maybe too many moments, and now the world was starting to ask if it was all more than just playful text exchanges and rare promo outings.

She took a deep breath and opened his message, quickly scanning the words. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the last question.

Is it?

She should’ve been surprised by the question, but she wasn’t, she’d been expecting it to come up at some point. People weren’t stupid, they saw the chemistry between them, the tension in the air that neither of them had really addressed. Not out loud at least. 

But she hadn’t planned on answering this way. She’d wanted to pretend it was nothing. She wanted to deflect, to tell him it was just a song, a moment, nothing more. But that seemed... dishonest.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She should just say it was nothing. Keep it professional. But she couldn’t lie. Not to him. Not to herself.

I don’t know what people are picking up on, but I’ll be honest

i wrote it about someone who... made me feel things I didn’t expect??? Things I wasn’t sure I could handle

but it’s not just about one person, you know? 

It’s about that feeling of wanting someone who feels just out of reach, even when they’re right in front of you. Yearning, you know??

She stared at the text, the words too real, too raw. She didn’t hit send immediately. 

What if he thought she was talking in circles? What if this was just a terrible idea?

She hit send anyway.

Max read her reply, and for a moment, his heart stopped. He could feel the weight of her words even through the screen of his phone. There was no denying it now, she’d just put it all out there: the feeling, the pull, the tension. It was all there in the lines between the words. And in that moment, Max knew he wasn’t the only one who’d been holding on to something unsaid, that he tried to convince was only in his head.

His thumb hovered over his phone as he thought about his reply. Should he be honest? Should he ask if what they both felt was the same thing? Or should he leave it alone?

He texted her back quickly, without thinking. I’ve been feeling it too. More than I should, probably.

He sent it before he could stop himself.

The text was out there now, and there was no taking it back. He waited, heart in his throat, as the dots on her side of the conversation appeared and disappeared. 

But this time, when her reply finally came, it wasn’t a meme. It wasn’t a joke.

It was the truth.

i know

and i think that's why we both keep avoiding it.

Max stared at the screen, his heart racing, the world outside disappearing as he thought about the next step. What would happen if they really admitted everything they’d been dancing around? Would they be able to keep pretending? Would the media and fans turn their attention into something they couldn’t control?

He didn’t know.

But for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if he cared anymore.

second song: touch it - ariana grande

The weeks that followed were torturous.

Max couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N), about their conversation, the way her words had lingered long after their texts had stopped. He couldn’t ignore whatever it was happening between them, the ache that grew every time he saw her name pop up on his phone, every time she sent him a meme or just a quick check-in. Their playful banter had always been a way to keep things light, but now it felt like they were walking a razor-thin line between friendship and something far more dangerous.

He’d tried to push it all away, focusing on the races, the endless press obligations, the girlfriend who had been by his side for years. He couldn’t just throw everything away, couldn’t tear apart the life he had, the one that made sense, the one that was steady, reliable. His girlfriend didn’t deserve to be hurt, he knew that.

But the more he tried to ignore it, the more impossible it became to escape.

And then, "Touch It" came out.

(Y/N)’s voice poured through his speakers one late night in a hotel room, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. The song wasn’t subtle. It was a breathless anthem of need, of longing, of reaching for something that was just out of grasp. She had written it, and he knew—he knew—it was about them. About him. About that feeling they couldn’t escape. The way she felt when they were together, the way they both held on to the tension between them like it was a lifeline.

It was a confession in a song, raw and unfiltered, and it echoed everything that had been simmering under the surface for weeks.

Max couldn’t stop listening to it. Couldn’t stop hitting replay as he drove through the city streets, as he sat in his hotel room preparing for the next race. Every time the chorus hit, he could feel the burn in his chest. 

Cause every time I see you, I don’t wanna behave. I’m tired of being patient so let’s pick up the pace.

The words raked across his skin, and for the first time in a long time, the temptation felt overwhelming, his skin felt too warm, his hands aching. 

He wanted it. Wanted her. Wanted to be close to her. He was drawn to her like he was drawn to the track, fast, reckless, and completely out of control.

But he had a girlfriend waiting at home.

And they both deserved better.

Max had tried. He really had, but every time (Y/N) popped up in his messages, it was harder to fight it. Texts were more frequent now, words lingered longer, carried more weight. The emojis felt heavier, the tone of the messages softer, more intimate.

They were dancing around it, playing with fire, and neither of them had the courage to admit what they both wanted.

It had been a long week of racing, and Max was exhausted when he arrived back at the hotel, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He stepped into his room, the familiar quiet pressing in around him. His girlfriend was waiting in the room next door. She was asleep when he checked in, and for the first time, the thought of being with her didn’t bring him comfort. Instead, he felt restless, empty in a way he couldn’t explain.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and of course it was a text from her.

I know you’re tired but I miss you… 

You ever feel like something’s just too hard to let go of, even if it’s the right thing?

The words hit him like a ton of bricks and suddenly the room felt too small. Too quiet. The space between was non-existent, and every message, every word they shared, felt like walking straight into a precipice, the bottom just waiting for what was inevitably going to happen.

His fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment. She was waiting for him to respond. But he knew if he answered this text, it would change everything.

Max ran a hand through his hair, staring at the text. The sound of the rain tapping against the window was the only thing filling the silence. He could hear his girlfriend moving in the other room, soft noises of her trying to sleep, but the distance between them felt miles wide.

Finally, he typed.

I can’t stop thinking about you

I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop.

He hit send, heart pounding in his chest.

(Y/N) didn’t reply immediately. The anticipation gnawed at him. Was she thinking the same thing? Was this going to go too far? Did she want the same thing he did?

Minutes passed, and just when he thought he’d made a mistake, his phone buzzed again.

Then don’t. 

Come to me, come see me. 

I’m not the one who’s going to stop you

The words burned like fire, sharp and undeniable. He couldn’t breathe.

He stared at the message, every part of him screaming to throw caution to the wind. To give in, just this once. To take what he wanted without thinking of the consequences. Without thinking of his girlfriend, of the other life he had built, the life he was supposed to protect.

Max stood up, pacing across the room, his mind whirling. The song, her words, her invitation. It all came rushing back, like a flood he couldn’t stop and temptation was too much, unbearable. 

Without another thought, he grabbed his jacket, keys, and headed out the door.

She was waiting when he arrived. There was a calmness in her eyes when she opened the door, but Max was able to see through it, the way her lips parted when she saw him, the slight tremble in her breath, it was too much to ignore. She knew. They both knew what was about to happen.

“You came,” she whispered, stepping back to let him in.

Max didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The words were lost to him as his body moved forward, drawn to her like a magnet, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

Because he couldn’t, he had crossed the line. 

When their lips met, it was everything he had been denying. The kiss was slow, hungry, desperate. It was everything they had been holding back for weeks. Every unspoken word, every glance, every text, they were all there, alive in this single moment.

But as their hands roamed, and the world outside seemed to disappear, the weight of it all began to sink in. He was betraying everything. Everything.

It wasn’t just the physical act, it was the knowledge that he’d crossed a line, that the thing he’d feared, even if it was inevitable, was now real.

But in that moment, with (Y/N) on his arms, his blue eyes finding hers, he didn’t care.

The next morning, Max woke up to an empty room. 

She was gone, all trace of her gone, leaving the Monte-Carlo hotel room empty.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the bed, but everything felt wrong. The space next to him was cold.

His phone buzzed again, and for a brief moment, he hoped it was her. But it wasn’t. It was his girlfriend, asking if he was okay, asking why he hadn’t answered her texts.

Max swallowed hard, guilt and shame rising in his chest. The weight of what he’d done, the mess he’d created, crushed him in an instant.

And in the silence that followed, he realized: He couldn’t run from this anymore.

He was caught. And it was only a matter of time before the truth came crashing down.

The break-up wasn’t loud.

Max had expected yelling, accusations, maybe tears, but when he told her,  when he finally looked her in the eyes and said he couldn’t keep pretending, she just sat there. Quiet. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she already knew.

“Is it her?” she asked, not even needing to say the name.

Max looked down at his hands, jaw tight. “It’s... not just about her.”

But it was.

It always had been.

He didn’t say he cheated. He didn’t say what happened the night before, hours ago. But maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe she saw it in his face, in the guilt buried behind his eyes, in the way his voice cracked when he said, “I haven’t been fair to you.”

She didn’t cry. She just stood up, nodded once, and walked away. Max didn’t try to stop her.

After that, everything changed.

He stayed away from (Y/N).

No texts. No emojis. No late-night memes. Not even a “hey” when she posted behind-the-scenes shots from her tour.

He watched, though.

Watched her perform, watched her smile through interviews, watched the fans scream her lyrics back to her like they knew her pain, like they knew him. Every lyric felt like a reflection, like a memory wrapped in melody so beautifully created by her. 

The rumors exploded overnight.

Max Verstappen and (Y/N): Something More Than Friends?

New Song “Touch It” Sparks More Speculation About F1 Star

Inside Their Secret Friendship—And What His Ex-Girlfriend Might Know

Social media ate it up. Paparazzi started showing up at both their events. Journalists tried to sneak questions into press conferences. He could hear it, feel it, the way people looked at him now.

Every time a camera flashed, every time someone said her name around him, his chest tightened.

Because what could he say?

Yes, I wanted her. Yes, I kissed her. Yes, I broke someone’s heart. Yes, I broke my own too.

But he kept quiet. Let the world build its version of the story.

And the worst part? She did too.

(Y/N) never spoke about him. Not in interviews, not in casual conversation, not online. She posted photos of her tour crew, messy dressing rooms, crowded arenas, sandy white beaches, but all trace of him was gone, the subtle ones only he knew existed, as if erasing him from the narrative could somehow erase the way he had touched her life and body and then left it in pieces, because she never thought leaving that morning meant leaving forever, that he would just disappear.

But Max missed her, constantly, and it wasn’t like the word let him forget either. 

He missed the way she teased him in texts, the way her voice softened when she said his name. He missed how easy it had felt to just exist with her, no performance, no pressure. Just them, in the quiet in-between spaces.

He told himself staying away was the right thing. The honorable thing. That maybe it was better this way, if she hated him a little, if she moved on without him. Maybe she should hate him. He’d touched something sacred between them and let it fall apart.

But then he’d hear her songs about him on the radio, and it was like the ache rewrote itself all over again.

They saw each other once.

Weeks later.

By accident.

At a TAG Heuer event in Paris, neutral ground, surrounded by cameras and managers and fake laughter. She was dressed in a black suit, her hair slicked back, red lipstick like a warning sign. She looked stunning. Powerful. Untouchable.

Max didn’t know she would be there.

And she definitely hadn’t expected him.

Their eyes met across the room. Just for a second.

And everything came rushing back.

The tension. The pull. The memory of hands on skin and words they couldn’t take back.

But they didn’t speak.

Someone stepped between them, an assistant, a handler, and just like that, the moment passed.

She turned first. Walked away like he was nothing.

He didn’t follow.

Later that night, she posted a photo from the event. A carousel: behind-the-scenes snaps, her laughing with her stylist, a close-up of her heels, her red lips, her watch.

He wasn’t in any of them, not even his shadow.

Max saw it at 2 a.m., lying awake in his hotel bed, the room too quiet, too cold. Thinking that maybe they could be spending this time together, holding her in his arms.

He stared at the screen for a long time.

Then he put his phone down.

And didn’t text her.

Not this time.

third song: because i liked a boy - sabrina carpenter

It started with a post.

Black and white. A photo of her in the studio, headphones half-off, mascara smudged, eyeliner sharp. She wasn’t posing for the camera—just staring at the wall like she was somewhere else entirely.

The caption was short:

“they wrote the narrative. i just sang the truth.”

And then the song dropped.

Because I Liked a Boy wasn’t subtle. It was messy. Angry. Beautiful. A punch to the chest. She didn’t name names, but she didn’t need to.

“Now I’m a homewrecker, I’m a slut I got death threats fillin’ up semi-trucks Tell me who I am, guess I don’t have a choice All because I liked a boy…”

The internet exploded.

Max watched it all unfold from behind his screen. Headlines flared. Twitter caught fire. Her name was trending for days, right next to his. Theories. TikToks. Threads with screenshots, breakdowns of their eye contact, fans zooming in on the way his smile lingered in her direction.

His ex girlfriend didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. The silence said enough. The world filled in the blanks for her.

And (Y/N)?

She said only what mattered. Through the lyrics.

Max played the song again. And again. And again. He could barely breathe through it.

It was all there, how they’d stolen moments, how she’d been painted as the villain for something they both started. And he’d let her take the fall. He let the world chew her up while he stayed silent, tucked behind PR teams and blank expressions.

But he missed her. God, he missed her.

He hadn’t texted her. Not since that night were his body was faster than his brain.

But he started watching her again, quietly.

He liked one post. Then another. A photo of her in a studio. A video of her laughing backstage with her team. Then a blurry mirror selfie with no caption.

The fans noticed. Of course they did.

max verstappen liking y/n’s post after 84 years??

he’s lurking and she KNOWS.

just date already omg

But she didn’t follow him or whatever it was he was doing; didn’t like his photos, did her best to avoid all the edits and side-by-side comparisons of her lyrics and his interviews. She was silent. Untouchable.

And maybe she was done with him. Maybe he’d hurt her too much. Maybe her silence now was the same silence he gave her when she needed him most.

But Max couldn’t stop.

He typed out messages at night.

I miss you.

I was a coward.

I should’ve defended you.

I still think about you. All the time.

He deleted them all.

Until one night, after a difficult race in Brazil, in the middle of a triple header, exhausted, emotionally wrecked, sitting in a hotel room with rain sliding down the windows, he typed something different.

Simpler. Honest.

I listened to the song.

A minute passed.

Then five.

Then ten.

No reply.

He let the phone sit beside him, the silence deafening, preparing himself for nothing, trying to convince himself it was for the best.

But then, finally, it buzzed.

Of course you did, everyone did. 

His heart clenched. The coolness in her message cut deeper than a scream would have. But he kept going.

I know I should’ve said something

I should’ve protected you

There was a pause.

He stared at the screen like it was going to fix everything, like honesty could undo what silence had cemented.

Finally, she replied.

You didn’t have to protect me, I never wanted that from you and you know it

I just didn’t want to be alone in it

That was it. The wound, wide open.

Max closed his eyes. He wanted to call her, to get on a plane, to show up at her door. But it wasn’t his timing anymore. It was hers.

So, he sent one last message.

I don’t want to be someone you used to write about

And this time… she didn’t reply.

But a week later, she posted a photo of her hand, a lyric scrawled across her palm in messy sharpie:

we don’t talk, but i still feel it.

And Max knew.

Maybe this wasn’t over. Not yet.

But they needed time, he needed to give her the time to heal, and come to terms with what happened.

It had been a year.

Twelve whole months since “Touch It.” Nine since “because i liked a boy.” Three since Max’s last like on her post.

No texts. No calls. Nothing that would hint to the world that they’d ever known each other beyond a photo op. But they had. They did.

And the thing about time? It doesn't always heal, but it softens.

It was late November in Amsterdam when it happened. Off-season for Max, cold air, breath in clouds, hands shoved deep in jacket pockets. The kind of day that begged for quiet.

(Y/N) was there for something private, a writing session tucked away in a borrowed flat, no press, no fans, no distractions. Just her and a piano and the kind of weather that made you remember things you’d spent months trying to forget.

She didn’t plan to run into him.

And Max definitely didn’t expect to see her when he walked into that café, hood up, head down, just trying to disappear for a few hours. But there she was, sitting in the back with her coffee half-finished and her fingers tucked into her sleeves, eyes locked on the window like she was waiting for something that would never come.

For a second, he froze.

He could walk out. Pretend he didn’t see her, save them both the awkwardness. But then she looked up, and those eyes, the ones that had haunted him in lyrics and dreams, locked on his blue ones.

Neither of them smiled. Not yet.

But she tilted her head. Gave him the smallest nod, maybe it was permission. 

So he walked over.

They didn’t hug. Didn’t even shake hands. Just… sat across from each other in a corner booth, sharing a silence that didn’t ache the way it used to. Not angry. Not painful.

Just real.

“I didn’t know you were here,” she said after a minute, voice soft.

“I could say the same,” Max replied, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie.

A pause.

Then she smiled, just barely. “Guess we were always good at showing up in the wrong place at the right time.”

He laughed. Quiet. Honest.

They talked.

About nothing, at first. Racing. Music. Amsterdam traffic. Coffee that tasted like burnt toast. It was easy, eventually, familiar. The kind of conversation that only happens when you’ve known someone without ever really knowing what to do about it.

And then, when the cups were empty and the daylight started to fade, he looked at her.

Really looked.

“I listened to the album,” he said. “All of it.”

She didn’t flinch. Just held his gaze, brave as ever. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “I think I needed to hear it.”

Silence. Then, gently: “I’m sorry I let the world chew you up.”

She took a breath. Slow. Careful.

“I was angry,” she said. “Not because of what happened. But because you left me standing in it alone.”

Max blinked: “You told me you didn’t need protecting.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “But I wanted to feel like I mattered. That what happened between us mattered.”

It hung in the air between them. Heavy. But not unbearable.

He nodded: “You did,” he said. “You still do.”

And this time, she smiled for real.

They left together, slipping out the back door like two people who weren’t famous. Just (Y/N) and Max. Just a girl and a boy walking side by side through cold streets, their hands brushing once, twice, then finally lacing together, without a word.

There were no cameras. No press releases. No grand declarations.

Just a quiet choice to try again.

Not the way they used to.

Not in stolen glances and broken promises.

But something slower. Softer.

Real.

And maybe this time?

They'd get it right.

[yoongifis]

💌 switching positions | myg

where the boy that you’ve got wrapped around your finger works his hardest to change his position from a somewhat friends-with-benefit to an official relationship with you. [and hes not the only one who will be switching positions ;)] *if you haven’t read ‘fxck a fxckboy’ yet, i suggest to read it before reading this! or don’t :p do as you wish!*

pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi

; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, blowjobs, handjobs breastplay, usage of sex toys, masturbation, usage of mature words, some dirty talk, jealous yoongi

; genre: smut (18+), pwp

; wc: 11k (hooooly sheeeeiiit)

a/n: SHES FINALLY HERE AAAAHH!! a little continuation of fuckboy yoongi~ hehe! very very sorry it took me so long! i had this in the drafts for a while and was slowly building it throughout the year :v now i've gotten busy bc your girl got into nursing school :') don't get me wrong though, i'll do my best to put out some writings here and there bc i do enjoy doing this :p i also wanna say thank you so much for showing so much love to the original 'fxck a fxckboy' fic!! i didn't expect it to gain that much attention, so i was pretty hyped to see a lot of people enjoying it :D i really hope you guys enjoy this one <3 it's just a little somethin' to fulfill your fuckboy yoongi needs hehehe. fair warning though, this is literally pure smut with no sort of plot (call me a horny mofo lmfaoooo). please ignore my grammatical errors :') i'll fix them at some point when i am notttt lazy ! :p

-

“Yoongi, could you quit it? I’m trying to help you study for your exam!”

The two of you were in one of your university library’s study rooms—which included a whiteboard, a table, and a couple of chairs in a somewhat small amount of space. Out of all the seats that were around the table and the free space this room has to offer, he chose to stand right behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as his head rests on the back of your shoulder as you wrote things on the whiteboard. 

He’s groaning out of boredom. 

“But isn’t this supposed to be a date?”

You snort with a chuckle, “yeah—a study date.”

You went a couple more rounds on the day you first slept with each other (and damn did he go crazy). After that, you told him you didn’t want to fuck him without being “official” because it felt like you were one of his little flings. He respected that, and really held himself back (although he does manage to sneak some kisses from you here and there to get his daily dose of you). He became eager to get you to be his girlfriend, but like you said you wanted to go on dates before you can agree.

And that’s what he did.

He’s been making everything into a date. And so far, he’s taken you on plenty.

Work on assignments together at the school library? (study) Date. 

Drive around town, enjoying the views as you guys talked? (car-ride) Date.

Watch a movie at his place with all the snacks he bought just for you? (movie night) Date. 

How about the two of you make dinner together? (cooking) Date.

It was cute. Something you’d never expected from him. Did he always have this romantic, sweet, and cheesy side to him? You could tell he is trying to keep his promise—take you on a bunch of dates till you agree to be his girlfriend. It may seem a bit too much, but due to his past history you wanted to make him wait and work hard for the ‘boyfriend title’—which he was willing to do. 

“Still a date,” he mumbles.

Yoongi’s squeezing you tightly, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, lips just slightly brushing against your skin. 

“Yoongi, you’ve got to study. They’re not going to let you graduate if you don’t pass this class. This is what you get for always skipping.”

“I just don’t understand that calculus shit. And I can’t study when you’re around.”

“You don’t even like it when I’m not around—but it somehow has to be me that has to help you with studying.”

“Exactly.”

You’re chuckling again at how cute he was. How is it that he was one of the biggest fuckboys at your school and now he’s the biggest simp for you?

“How about we make a deal?”

He hums, “I’m listening.”

“Pass the class and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

His head shoots up. “Whatever I want?” He repeats.

“And I’ll stop your suffering and agree to be your girlfriend.”

It’s like a whole switch went off in his body; he was ready to get going.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, princess,” he’s removing his hold around you, finally taking a seat with a pencil in his hand and a paper in front of him as he looks at you, “if that’s all it’s going to take for me to be your boyfriend, I’ll do it.”

—

Of course, Yoongi left himself with only two days to study for his final exam. It may seem like not enough time, but one thing you learned about him is that he can get really determined to do something especially if he gets some type of reward from you. 

He surprisingly locked himself in his room (according to Hoseok), and was trying to do things on his own. He also did not contact you at all that day—making that day the first time the two of you haven’t hung out or contacted each other since the day you both had that little confession session.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were honestly missing Yoongi despite it only being a day. You’ve gotten so used to having him constantly around you that him not being right next to you felt so off. 

These feelings must’ve been bothering you so much because now you’re at the front door of his apartment with an early dinner of take-out in your hand, waiting for Hoseok to open the door.

“He’s still in his room—the doors unlocked this time which is new. I would have loved to join you guys but I promised to go out with the other boys,” he pauses. “…I did ask Yoongi to join me but he told me to ‘get lost’, so—,” he grumbles under his breath as he makes his way around you.

You laugh at him.

“No worries, Hoseok. Just go have fun.”

The two of you switch places, with his hand still on the door handle as he’s about to head out.

“I should be saying that to you guys,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yoongi’s right! Get lost already!!” You gently hit the side of his arm as he laughs at your reaction. “Don’t be so weird.”

“Who said it had to be those things? I never said that,” he laughs, but you roll your eyes at him. “Go out, watch a movie, or cook—whatever to get him up and out of his room. That guy isn’t even getting enough rest like usual and barely ate today and yesterday. I’ve literally never seen him like this before—he’s actually studying pretty hard for his exam.”

You’re thinking to yourself, giving him a little nod before he says his final goodbye and shuts the door.

God—Yoongi is really serious about this.

You knock before you enter, only to be faced with Yoongi at his desk, tons of loose paper scattered everywhere and crumpled ones on the floor. He didn’t even notice you until you said his name, his focus from the lecture playing on his laptop switched to you when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Babyy,” he mumbles lowly, a little smile on his mouth.

You’re walking towards him, expecting his eyes to stay on you but they don’t. He’s listening to whatever lecture he had on, scribbling down whatever. It kind of hurt a little. You were too used to having his attention all on you.

“Have you eaten? I brought some take out.”

All he does is shake his head, still focused on his work.

A small pout on your face appears, upset with how he was. You put the bag filled with food onto the floor, next to the drawers of his desk. You take a step closer to him, a hand immediately going to his head to run your fingers through his messy hair. You gently massage his scalp with the pads of your fingers, leaning over to take a look at his work. The only sound that could be heard between you two was the lecture that he had playing.

“Look at you, working so hard,” you broke the silence, “you literally weren’t able to be like this at the library.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just a little “uh-huh”. It was more of a little grunt in agreement. 

It bothered you that he wasn’t talking to you like usual. No hands or eyes all over you—nothing! 

You remove your hands away from him.

“Yoongi, don’t you want to relax with me for a little bit?”

It was obvious you were pouting again—you can just hear it as you spoke.

“Can’t, baby. I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He didn’t even bother to glance over at you or complain how you removed your hand from his head. 

“Not even just for a little?”

You hear him exhale, the small action enough to make your heart sink just a little.

“Baby, I’m a little busy. Go lay in my bed and rest for me over there, yeah? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Now that definitely hurt.

He didn’t even take a look at you again! Not one glance.

Without a word, you sat on his bed. Eventually you quietly lay down, taking your phone out to scroll through your apps even though you’d much prefer to be talking or hanging out with Yoongi. 

The silence and sound of his lecture videos and the small scratches of his pencil on his paper echos in the room.

Who would have thought you’d ever see Yoongi ignoring you or not be all over you when you’re in the same room as him?

You immediately got to thinking.

And it hit you.

You toss your phone somewhere on the bed, getting up and making your way to Yoongi. You stood next to him, watching the way he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. He sits there silently, carefully watching his lecture. When you see the right moment, you turn his chair a bit towards you, giving you enough room to squeeze your way through and sit on his lap while facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Baby—,” he sighs, “I told you I’m busy right now. I can’t have you on me like this.”

“But babyyy I miss youuu,” you whined, “can’t I get a recharge?”

You notice him completely freeze, slowly taking in what just happened—it was the first time in forever where you didn’t call him by his name.

You mentally smirk to yourself.

Now that’s what you were waiting for. 

He swallows hard, keeping his composure. 

“Yeah?” He hums, “I have the test tomorrow and I’m trying to get a good grade on it. If I let you sit here with me, you gotta promise me that you won’t distract me. This test means a lot to me. Got that, baby?”

You tighten your hold around him, nestling your head against the side of his neck. You nod your head at his words. Not because you agree or that you’d promise to follow his conditions. It was just for the sake of his sanity.

He clears his throat, hitting the play button and grabbing his pencil to continue scribbling down notes or whatever. 

Everything was pissing you off at the moment. 

You missed his hands being all over you and the way he’d fight his way to steal another kiss from you while you’re trying to push him away because he was always greedy for more. You wanted him to be annoyingly head over heels for you while you try to be nonchalant about it. And it’s also crazy to think that it’s only been a couple days and you’re acting like this over Yoongi not showing you the same attention as usual.

You give it some time. Patiently waiting until you thought it was time to get him all riled up—and then maybe he might just pay more attention to you. But being extremely patient at this moment is a pain in the ass, and you knew you didn’t want to drag this on forever. You move around on top of his lap, trying to somewhat grind against him as you pretend to get yourself more comfortable. You move your face closer to his neck, nuzzling your head on the top of his shoulder. You softly exhale, allowing your breath to hit and tickle his neck. 

Nothing. No reaction. 

You place your soft lips against his skin, giving him very light kisses on the same spot.

He slightly tilts his neck away without a word, causing you to huff in annoyance. You immediately bring your lips to his neck again, placing slow and gentle kisses on the side of his neck that instead lead to a spot under his ear and along his jawline.

He groans, clearly enjoying your actions but conflicted with the need to resist the temptation of you.

“Baby,” is all he says, voice sharp and stern. 

You pull away, sitting up straight to face him. 

“Enough.”

You could tell on his face that he was being serious.

Well..trying to. And it was cute—which is why he wasn’t as successful with intimidating you.

You roll your eyes at him, making your way towards him to pepper his jawline with kisses.

“But I miss youu,” you mumbled against his skin, making your way to his ear.

“…and I want you so bad, babyyy.”

You hear him mumble a “fuckin’ hell” under his breath and his hands creep underneath your thighs. He’s picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck tightly. In no time, you feel your back hit against the bed. You watch him adjust himself so that he’s eye level with you as he hovers above you. Just by the look of his dark eyes, you knew you were in for it. 

“Yoongi—,” you squeaked.

“Hm?” He hums, voice rough. 

The atmosphere around him felt different this time. It was just hard to point out what it was. Nevertheless, you brushed it off. As desperate this may sound, you were finally getting what you wanted and you’re not going to let anything get in the way. All you wanted right now was him because—fuck—you miss him. 

“Please—,” you mumble.

It felt embarrassing to be underneath him like this with his hungry eyes beaming at you—and that’s all he’s been doing for the past how many minutes that felt like an eternity. You watch his eyes flicker from your eyes and down to your lips, clearly tempted to just devour you then and there but he doesn’t. He shifts in his position, bringing his right thigh in between your legs and pressed against your crotch, giving you the opportunity to grind against him—cuz fuck, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be touched—you needed him to do something to help you get some relief but he didn't do anything.

He watches you carefully. The way your eyes flutter shut and open slowly as you attempt to grind against his thigh, begging for him to do something.  God, you were just so fucking tempting. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he brings his head to the side of your neck, peppering a messy line of light kiss along it. He leads the trail up towards the side of your jaw, almost mimicking exactly what you were doing earlier. Once he makes it to the spot underneath the lobe of your ear he pulls away.

“What do you want, princess?” He softly speaks into your ear. 

The sound of his voice and the way his breath hits your skin already sends shivers down your spine. It was really just the effect he had on you, and he never failed to make you feel this way. Your mind was already drunk off him, words also didn’t seem to want to come out of your mouth.

He removes his thigh away from you and sits up, getting another good look at you before he lowers himself more till he becomes face-to-face with your abdomen as he lays in between your legs. He lifts up the oversized hoodie you wore, but only exposing your tummy. From there, he started to place slow and soft kisses from below your chest and leading down to underneath your belly button. These actions were making you go crazy—maybe it has been too long since you’ve been touched this way by Yoongi.

He stops giving your tummy kisses when he reaches the spot under your belly button, making you whine out a little “please”.

“Mmm?” He hums, looks up at you as he sits back up to admire you. “What baby? You want me to go further, don’t you?”

You nod at him, your eyes telling him that you need more.

He gives you a lopsided smile before bringing his head to the side of yours, his lips slightly grazing the shape of your ear.

“I don’t fuck just anyone anymore, remember? My girlfriend is the only person I ever want to fuck.” 

What a damn smart ass.

He’s already pulling away chuckling before you could wrap yourself around him to keep him on top of you.

“Whaat?!” You whined, “—but Yoongi!”

He’s laying in between your legs, arms wrapped around your hips as he nuzzles the side of his head on your tummy. You watch him get comfortable and his breathing slows. 

“Yoongi,” you gently pat his head in annoyance.

Silence.

“Yoongi, wake up,” you huff.

Nothing.

The exhaustion finally caught up to him and made this man fall asleep on you just like that.

You grumble to yourself in annoyance—a perfectly good plan gone to waste. You do your best to shove him off you (of course it took a couple tries). Once you finally got him off you, you took your needy ass home.

That was just it.

Hoseok could deal with this man when he gets home!

—

You honestly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re in this position right now. The Yoongi you were seeing now was a complete 180 from the one you were dealing with yesterday.

“What’s with the little outfit you have underneath your hoodie, princess? Were you already expecting me to come over?”

His smile is cheeky, the thought of you waiting for him to come home in that outfit got him smiling like crazy. 

Fuck—it  made him way too happy.

You hum, carefully picking out your words.

“I was going to film something.”

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and his imaginary tail starts to wag. “as a congratulatory gift, huh?” 

“That… or a ‘sorry-you-failed-you’ll-get-it-next-time’ gift,” you chuckle.

He scoffs at your words.

“You thought I wouldn’t pass?”

“I mean there was a possibility, wasn’t there, Yoongi?”

He chuckles, bringing his eyes from you down to your thighs.

“You don’t get it, baby,” he hums, fingers lightly grazing down your thigh, “you told me you’d be all mine if I passed this exam.” He pauses, removing his fingers from your thigh and brings his face closer to your skin, pressing chaste kisses that lead up to your inner thigh. He gently bites down, earning a little yelp from you.

Yoongi sits up to face you eye-to-eye again, admiring the annoyed look on your cute face yet there was a slight shift in his demeanor.

“There’s no way I’d ever want to lose to a prize like that, baby. And even if I weren’t able to pass that exam, you know damn well that I’ll make sure to make you want to be mine.”

He stares at you, mentally undressing you causing him to lick his lips. The way he looked at you made you feel small, despite his eyes flickering from your eyes, down to your lips, and to your bare legs. It suddenly felt embarrassing to be wearing such an outfit under a hoodie while being in front of Yoongi. 

As if he could sense your feelings, he gets off the bed and grabs your swivel chair from your desk, placing it right in front of the end of the bed. He takes a seat, leaning back with his legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.

“Show me what you were about to film.”

“Yoongi—,” you mess with the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it down to cover yourself some more, “—you know I can’t —.”

“Show. Me.” He interrupts, words sharp. His voice was low and demanding—and you hate to admit it but it was definitely turning you on.

You swallowed hard, awkwardly clearing your throat before answering him. 

“I’m—uh—,” you croaked.

“What is it?” 

“My—um…,” you mumbled “…it’s in the drawer on your right.”

He raises an eyebrow, turning to his side to pull open the drawer of your dresser. He rummages through it without looking until he feels a particular item he can already recognize. The boy brings it out, holding it in front of him with a snicker.

“You were going to use this too?” He’s waving it around, a big smile on his face.

Your grow even more embarrassed, face flushed. You look down, avoiding his gaze as you sheepishly nod your head.

“What a treat,” he hums, “but don’t you need to prepare yourself before using your little toy?”

You lift your head up only to find him still watching you with a teasing smile. 

“Let me see how you get yourself all nice and wet, princess—then I’ll hand this over to you.”

As you’re sitting on top of your legs in a kneeling position, you bring your thighs a little closer to each other—and he immediately notices it.

He’s tipping his head upwards, giving you a signal to “go on”. 

You could just not listen to him but in all honesty, you’ve been waiting so long to become intimate with him again. And knowing him—especially from what happened the other day—he’d definitely tease the shit out of you and not give you what you want if you don’t follow his orders.

You try to brush off the nerves you were feeling, moving your legs from underneath. Your legs were spread apart, knees bent and feet on top of the bed, giving him a good view of your skimpy, sheer underwear you chose to wear today. He could already tell you were wet—just from a quick glance at your panties he’s already spotted a little wet patch.

With just your index and middle finger, you take the two digits and place them over your panties and on top of your clit, rubbing it in small and slow circles. You were already closing your eyes, throwing your head back while moaning softly. Maybe it was the effect of his presence or just him overall but you felt even more turned on than when you do this by yourself.

“Panties to the side, princess.”

You do as he says, feeling the surge embarrassment run through you, causing your face to grow hot and red. You continue to slowly rub your wet clit, with your head turned to the side as you whimper and moan all while avoiding him.

“Don’t avoid your pussy, baby. It needs some attention too,” he hums, “put a finger in.”

You look at him, biting down on your lip as you remove your fingers from your clit.

You hesitate a bit before slowly inserting your middle finger into your heat, pumping it in and out as you turn your head away from him to avoid his gaze. You bit down on your lip with enough pressure to leave indents, suppressing your moans from Yoongi.

“So good baby, you’re such a good girl.” He coos.

“Your pussy is just sucking your finger right in, princess,” he chucked, “making a whole mess just from one finger.”

You ignored his comments, torn between concentrating imagining that your fingers were his own or his cock that were filling up your pussy, or the fact that you wanted to hide yourself and your moans from the man in front of you. God, it’s embarrassing—to be exposed and to be playing with your most private part right in front of a man you were head over heels for. Yoongi, however, wasn’t having it. He thought this whole thing was the biggest turn on he’s ever had. You were the sexiest girl on earth to him, especially with the nice treat of you playing with yourself. 

“Nnnggh—ahh~!” You yelped, quickly looking down to see the man in between your legs, eyes dark as he lapped up your overflowing essence. Your movements stutter, and he takes that as an opportunity to move your hand away and replace it with his, making you a bit noisier than before. He pulls his face away, thumb playing with your clit as he keeps eye contact with you.

“There we go, baby. Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he smirks. It was easy for him to read you—he already knew that you would try to avoid his gaze. He’s tossing your pink dildo on the bed, removing his hand from your clit. He places each hand on the back of your thigh of each leg, pressing your legs against the sides of your chest and nearly folding you in half. This position was one of his favorites—he was always able to see everything while he ate you out.

He keeps a tight hold on your legs, making sure they stay in place. He switches from using a flat tongue while moving his head side to side to using just the tip of his tongue to stimulate your sensitive and erect clit before sucking it—completely indulging in all your juices that were flowing out of you. 

“W-wait!—please!” you squealed.

He has you squirming, lifting your hips in an attempt to get it away or closer to his face. The noises he made were obscene— loud slurps, low hums. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up the essence you produced. He uses that thick piece of muscle to probe at your hole, plunging it in and out of you. He buried his face into your pussy, his tongue moving around your hole as his nose brushes against your bead, allowing him to inhale the sweetest scent of you.

He loved watching the look you had on your face—cheeks brushed red, mouth hanging open, eyebrows furrowed. It was a sexy look—and being in this position where he had a good view of your lower half and your face could almost make him cum. He removes his hold from one leg, bringing that free hand to easily slide two fingers in you as he abuses your clit with his mouth, causing you to let out a strained gasp.

“Y-yoon…gi~!” You cried.

He hums against your clit before removing himself.

“Fuck, princess—,” he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, “—you taste so damn good.”

“Please—! Need you!”

He’s chuckling at you—thought that you looked so damn adorable that he was contemplating to tease the shit out of you or completely fuck your brains out.

“Yeah? You need my cock, huh, baby?” With his two fingers in your pussy, he uses his thumb to rub your clit, causing you to clench around him. He becomes more aggressive with his thrusting of his fingers.

“Hhhnnghh—!” You squeak, feeling yourself about to reach your high. You’re gripping onto the sheets, arching your back. Right there—it was right there. You could feel the way he was trying to get you to release. But once you almost felt that wave of pleasure, it was quickly taken away from you. Your legs shake and you clench around nothing.

“You owe me a show, princess,” the man hums, bringing the wet digits to his mouth. He spreads his two fingers apart, making a v-shape as he takes his tongue and licks around his fingers—the slick, sticky essence coating them— all while making sure to maintain eye contact with you.

“Yooonggii—,” you whined with a pout, bringing your legs together to rub your thighs against each other to feel something. “Was almost there, Yoongi~,” you mumble with a pout, innocent eyes glistening at him. 

He’s standing up as you spoke, chuckling at how desperate you looked. 

“God, you’re fucking cute.”

It was clear to him how badly you wanted him to continue. But he had to hold himself back because he just had to play around with you. The man reaches over the bed to grab the sex toy he tossed earlier, holding up to show it to you.

“I got you all ready for this, baby. Show me how you use it.”

You look at him with a flushed face, lips pouting at the fact he wasn’t going to continue what he was doing earlier. It was annoying—stopping you from cumming just because he wants to see you ride your dildo. You were hoping the pleading look on your face would change his mind—make him want to continue, but he doesn’t budge. You slightly roll your eyes at him, reposition yourself to sit up in front of him on your knees again. 

He smirks, satisfied with how well you’re listening to him even though he can see right through you. Yoongi gently tosses the dildo in front of you before taking a seat. You took the toy into your hands, holding it as if it was a foreign object to you. 

“Go on, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on you. He looked relaxed; slightly slouched against the chair with his legs manspreading. 

You huff, mustering up the courage and to mentally preparing yourself to do such a lewd act in front of him (even though the two of you have already slept with each other and seen one another naked and whatnot…). You lift yourself up, standing on your knees with them slightly spread apart. You hold the bottom of your hoodie underneath your chin, which exposes just your tummy, while you try to position the toy underneath you. You bring your panties to the side to expose yourself, brushing just the tip against your slit which makes you clench around nothing. You  slowly sink down once you feel yourself wrap around the tip. 

“Haaa~,” you gasp, tilting your head back as you sink down even further. You’re a whimpering, mumbling mess when you have it completely in you—and fuck has it been a long time since you’ve actually used it or been fucked by Yoongi. You allow yourself to get yourself adjusted.

He focuses on how your face scrunches up and how your mouth hangs open, since you’ve let go of the bottom part of your hoodie and is now covering where all the action was. 

You missed this feeling of being full that it was making you go crazy. You wanted to stay like this, but for some reason you felt like wanting to move. You lift your hips up in an attempt to have the toy just barely in you, but it doesn’t slide out of you so you sit down again.

“Your pussy isn’t letting it go, princess. You’re gripping it so tightly,” he chuckles, leaning forward so that he’s closer to you and the bed. “I’ll hold it for you, baby.”

You nod, lifting your legs up as you try to relax yourself, letting your dildo slide out and onto the bed. You stood there on your knees, waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand to the bottom of your hoodie.

“Hold this up with your mouth for me, baby. Make sure this part is the part you’re holding with your mouth”

You look at him a bit weird, not fully understanding his specific request but you do it anyway. You bring the fabric up to your mouth, now completely revealing your lingerie to him.

Ah…What a smartass.

He notices you roll your eyes at him, making him chuckle. He takes the sex toy and holds it with the base in his palm.

“Alright, baby. Go at it.” He’s positioned the dildo underneath you, waiting for you to get on it again. 

The two of you make eye contact as you slowly sink down again. You feel the tip of the toy brush against your wet folds, causing you to bite down on the fabric a little harder than before. 

Why are you more excited? Is it because of Yoongi? 

Fuck, you wanted him badly.

As you slowly slide yourself down on the dildo, you’re  immediately throwing your head back again, breaking eye contact but he continues to watch you. You feel yourself reach the end of it, only for you to immediately raise your hips and again to slowly start moving up and down. You find a rhythm as you bounce on the toy, your hands finding their way to massage your breasts, massaging them with the lingerie still on as your moans are slightly muffled from the fabric in your mouth. 

“Look at you playing with yourself. You look so sexy, princess. You were going to film something like this for me, right baby?” He hums, reaching over in his pocket to take out his phone. He opens up the camera app, tilting his phone upwards to get the whole view of you and starts to record you. “I'll help you and be your cameraman—look at the camera, princess.”

At first he gets a shot of all of you—you glancing down at him and the camera with a flushed face before quickly throwing your head back, hands grabbing at your own breast over the sheer fabric covering them, your hips moving on its own as you bounced up and down. He then pans the camera to your pussy swallowing up your dildo.

“Yeah, keep moving like that, baby. You’re making such a creamy mess on your dildo like a good girl. You’re gripping so hard—fuck, baby,” he groans lowly.

He watches the way all your overflowing juices were pooling at the base of the dildo and makes sure to get a good shot of it before tossing it to the side.

“Take the hoodie off, baby.”

You do as he says, tossing the fabric somewhere on the floor. He takes in the way you looked in the skimpy piece of clothing you wore underneath. 

God, you blew him away. 

You were just so. damn. beautiful. 

The white made you look heavenly—angelic, actually. And the lacey, sheer fabric that covered you wasn’t necessary at this point, but damn did it do a good job at catching his eye. The set you had on also had some frills on it, along with a little bow in the middle of your waistband and of your bra. It all suited you—it was perfectly made for you.

He literally just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

With his free hand, he caresses the curve of your waist to the curve of your hips. He takes a finger and curls it underneath the thin waistband of your panties, following it slowly until he removes it once he reached the middle of your thigh. Yoongi brings his hand up to your chest, using his index finger and thumb to pinch your erect nipple right through the sheer fabric.

“Haaahh~,” you stutter in your movements, letting out an airy moan.

God, he needed you so bad.

He takes the hand that is holding your dildo, flicking his wrist upwards, causing you to fall forwards and pause your movements. He slides your dildo back out, only just to slam it back in and keep it at a steady pace—fucking you with your dildo as you stay still leaning over him. His free hand goes to the side of your ass, helping you stay up.

“Yoongi—!” You whine, your arms making its way to link behind the man’s neck. Your chest is nearly pressed against his face, giving him the opportunity to grab a mouthful of your breast. 

The man encases your hard nipple through the fabric in his mouth, biting down on it enough to get another moan of his name out of your mouth.

“Nnnghh~!” You squeal, pulling him closer to you. 

He then begins to suck on your nipple, toying with the metal bar that’s pierced right through it. With how sheer the fabric is, he’s practically sucking on you rather than the fabric.

Your legs begin to shake as he starts to pick up the pace with your dildo. You could feel that high again, the same feeling you felt earlier when he was eating you out like a goddamn monster.

“Yoongi!” You chant with your mouth slightly hung open, “please! Right there—!”

He’s slamming the dildo inside you, filing you all the way. He’s hitting the spot that made you roll your eyes backwards, your mouth hanging open and spewing nonsense.

He removes himself from your breast, pulling back to take a look at your face, admiring how sexy you are. God—he can’t get over you.

“Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” he mumbles lowly, “lose yourself already.”

He uses the hand on your ass to guide you on your dildo while the other hand has it sliding in and out of you. He brings his lips to your collarbone, trailing kisses towards and up your neck.

You breathe heavily, mouth hung wide open as pleasure takes over you. It almost felt like you were being fucked by him, but it was nearly enough. 

“Yoongi—yoongi!” You chant before losing yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to your heart pound crazy while you catch your breath. 

“Good job, baby, you did so good.” He kisses the side of your head, slowly removing the dildo from your pussy, earning a little whine from you.

He lets you sit down on his clothed lap, your wetness probably leaving marks on his sweats. At this point, you could most definitely feel how hard he was right now. You lift your head up and look at him with fucked out eyes. Your hands were clasped behind his neck, while his hands rested on your waist.

You grind yourself against his hard erection, hoping he gets the hint that you wanted him now instead of having you beg for it.

The corner of his mouth lifts up to a small smirk.

He’s lifting you up as he gets you both off the bed. He’s turning around, gently bringing you down on top of the bed.

“Lie down for me, baby,” his voice low.

He gets a view of you again in your sexy lingerie. Yes, this fucking sexy ass lingerie—god, all the mental photos he has of you will definitely be on repeat in his mind. He didn’t want to remove it. I mean—it would be a waste if he had to. Just the look of you in such a pretty yet skimpy outfit made him go crazy. 

You attempt to be quick with closing your legs again, keeping some modesty. However, he was able to beat you by bringing his hands on either of your legs and pushing them slightly down to keep you wide open for him.

“So pretty,” he mumbles under his breath as he salivates at the look of your body. You grew embarrassed again, having the urge to shut your legs to cover you up but Yoongi was too strong for you.

“Can you tell me what you want next, baby?”

You already knew he was going to tease you—actually he probably just wanted to hear those words come right out of your mouth. It would be music to his ears.

“Yoongi, please…,” you mumble, “don’t you want to fuck me?” You give him the most innocent doe eyes that you could, hoping he could lose himself already.

He chuckles.

“Of course, princess,” he brings himself closer to you, taking his painful erection and grinds himself against your slick, teasing your little hole. “You want me to fuck you like this? With my clothes on? It’s making such a mess on my pants, baby.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head no. You wanted more, and you know that he knows that already.

“Thought so,” he hums. “Be specific, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”

You hesitate a bit, but his teasing was enough to make you more upfront with what you wanted.

“Take your clothes off too, Yoongi.”

“Mmm…were you feeling alone?”

“Extremely, Yoongi”

He chuckles as he removes every piece of his clothing from his body, tossing it wherever in the room.

“Can’t let my baby feel that way,” he hums.

Your eyes go from his to below his waist, watching him slowly remove his boxers and revealing his cock. It was thick and long, an angry red at the tip with a bit of precum oozing out. 

Your hand gravitates towards it, holding it by the base and squeezing it a little. You completely forgot how big and girthy he was. As you slide your hand up and down his cock, you got him lowly groaning while you thought to yourself about whether or not this thing could fit in you again. But fuck—you wanted him so bad. 

“…please Yoongi,” you remove your hand from his cock, looking up at him, “fuck me already.”

He’s smiling, bringing his cock closer to your core. He takes his thumb to push his cock on top of your slit, and keeps it there. He slides himself back and forth, coating himself with your slick, teasing you as he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit.

You let out a little whine from his touch. 

“Want your cock inside me, Yoongi,” you mumble.

He’s leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, his facing hovering yours.

“It’s all yours, baby.”

He’s leans in again to steal a passionate kiss from you, while he slowly pushes his cock inside your soaked hole. You slightly pull away from him, your mouth hanging open, spewing out soft moans as he fills you up. 

He gives you the chance to get used to him being inside you. And fuck, did he miss your fucking pussy. 

He pulls his hips back, letting you miss the feeling of him filling you up before he slams himself right back into you again.

“Haaah~! Yoongi!” You say breathlessly. Your hands crawl to hold the sides of his face, as he continues to leave a trail of scattered kisses from the side of your neck and down to your chest. He’s pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing you before he latches on to your pierced nipple. 

He starts to pick up the pace as he thrusts into you; finally leaving your breasts alone with hickies that mark you as his. He stands straight to look down at you, watching you writhing underneath him. He pulls the other cup to your bra to expose the other perky and pierced breast. His eyes mesmerized by the face you were making as you were getting fucked by him, your tight pussy sucking him right up, and your tits bouncing everywhere—god it felt like they made him even harder.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he grunts as he thrusts into you, “you’re all mine, huh?”

You let out little more whimpers and moans, unable to make out any sentences. He chuckles, wanting to see you lose more of yourself. He lifts your leg and puts it over your shoulder, wanting to penetrate you even deeper. He takes his right thumb and gives it a quick lick with his tongue before placing it right on your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Nnnggh—ah! Yoongi!” You yelp.

“My pretty girl. You take me in so well, huh?”

He watches you let out louder moan, realizing that his cock grazed your most sensitive spot.

He’s snapping his hips hard against you. He lifts his knee up to place it on the bed, angling himself so that he could continuously hit that spot that had you rolling your eyes back. He presses down on your clit harder, torturing it with quick and small tracings of a circle.

You’re mumbling nonsense, spewing out whatever came out of your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, making him let out another groan.

He looks down at the area where you two were connected, admiring the creamy mess you were making on his dick. His eyes wander upwards to your heavenly body. Then up to your cute face, making all kinds of sounds as he pounded you—God, he’s actually going insane, he was grunting with every thrust. 

“W-wait! Haahnngh~! Yoongi!” You bring a hand to his abdomen, weakly trying to push him away as he’s drilling himself inside of you. 

“Please!” You whined, “s-something’s coming out!” 

A soft smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he watches yours—mouth hung open, nonsense whining. You were writhing underneath him, trying to get away from him but he wouldn’t let you. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before putting more strength into his thrusts.

“Yoongi!” You yelped, letting out helpless whines as you can feel yourself about to reach your high. 

Your hands wrap around his back, your sharp nails scratching him enough to show red lines and possibly make him bleed. 

He gives a final thrust, causing you to squirt all over his pelvis area and onto the bed when he removes himself from your hole.

“Fuck…,” he grumbles under his breath.

He watches your chest move up and down, eyes closed as you’re still trying to recover from what just happened.

“You made a fucking mess, baby. You squirted all over me.”

Your eyes shot open, propping yourself up with your elbows to look down at what you did.

“I just…?” You lay yourself down again, covering your eyes in humiliation. It’s the first time you’ve done that before. “Yoongi—this is so embarrassing,” you whined.

“Embarrassing?” He’s leaning forward to kiss the back of your hands before gently removing them away from your face, eyes now on him. “That was sexy as fuck, baby.”

He’s lifting you to sit you up before he carries you again. He sits first on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap while facing forward. Right in front of you, you had a view of the two of your naked, sweaty bodies. Hickies scatter across your chest, your legs spread apart and glistening from you making the biggest mess. You feel your cheeks grow red from looking at yourself.

He helps remove your sheer, lace bra off. His hands roam around until they glide up and down the sides of your waist.

“Look how sexy you are, baby. So, so fucking sexy.”

He’s tapping on the side of your ass, signaling for you to lift your bottom just a bit, which you did, as he helps you remove your panties. He holds his cock up, and helps you guide your hips to it. You slowly slide down on his cock, fully taking him whole, causing you to let out a shaky moan.

“Bring your feet up, baby.”

You do it, placing one foot on either side of him and near the edge of the bed. He has his chest against your back, an arm holding your waist to keep you steady while his other hand is pushed against the bed behind him to hold him up.

“Bounce for me, princess. And keep your eyes on the mirror. Need you to see what I see when I fuck you.”

You bite down on your lip, looking at him through the mirror and he tips his head again telling you to “go on”. You slowly lift your hips up, feeling somewhat empty without his cock in you, until you drop yourself down on him. The fullness had you moaning out his name, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“I told you to watch yourself, didn’t I?”

You keep a steady pace on his cock, your eyes closed and mouth hanging open again.

“…too embarrassing—,” you moan.

He scoffs, annoyed with your response. He wanted you to see how you looked—how your body reacts when you have his cock stuffed inside of you. He wasn’t going to let that answer slide.

The man hooks his arms under the back of your knees, carrying you while he keeps himself in you. Your eyes flash open when you feel yourself in the air.

“W-wait! Yoongi!” Your hands go to your face to cover your eyes. You lay your back more against him to keep yourself from falling forward.

He’s moving you on his cock with no difficulties. He has you bouncing up and down, while you’re still trying to process what’s going on.

“Look at how much of a slut you fucking look like, princess,” his voice low and gravely. 

The contrast of his words turn you on. Peaking through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of your glistening, naked body. 

“Remove them, now.”

You swallow hard, finally facing yourself. Your eyes wander, watching the way your pussy took in your boyfriend’s cock, how you were making such a damn mess on it, the way your perky breasts bounced around while he thrusted upwards into your pussy. It was all so vulgar—a dirty scene that came out of a porno.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. This is the view that I get—andI’m the only one who gets to have this view.”

Despite feeling slightly embarrassed about watching yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more turned on. Who knew you could make such a dirty yet sexy expression?

You’re furrowing your eyebrows, mouth hung open as you whimper and moan. Your hand travels down to your lower abdomen, holding it there to feel a slight bulge whenever Yoongi pushes himself in you. It was actually insane to you to be able to feel and see this.

“Go lower, baby. Play with yourself.”

Your hand slowly inches lower, grazing your skin. You take a finger and draw small, slow circles on your clit. You watch yourself through the mirror, your eyes flickering to watch your scrunched up face to how Yoongi was pounding your pussy while you played with your swollen, sensitive bead.

“Fuck—that’s it baby. You listen so well,” he grunts. 

He adjusts his hold under you, making it more comfortable for him to slide you in and out of him while he fucks you harder underneath. He was basically doing bicep curls at this point—his muscles were nearly on fire but he couldn’t care any less.

“More pressure baby.”

You follow his commands, and you have yourself throwing your head back again as you lose yourself. Your sensitive clit makes your hips shake, causing you to squeeze tightly around him. You hear Yoongi slightly growl in your ear, going crazy because of you. 

“You’re milking my cock so hard—you want my cum that bad, huh?” His voice was gruff.

He holds you a bit lower, stopping his little bicep curls and instead continues to fuck you from underneath at a faster pace and with more forceful thrusts.

“Ngggh—ahh~!” You yelp from the change in speed.

“Don’t fucking remove your fingers. Keep playing with yourself.”

You were nearly seeing stars again. You couldn’t think straight. But you could feel that same feeling you felt earlier, and you knew you just couldn’t hold that knot in your stomach anymore.

“F—fuck! Yoongi! Ah—!” You cried, “cumming!”

“Fucking cum for me, baby. Lose yourself already.” 

He’s thrusting you with all the power he can, while his face was stuck on watching your reaction on your airbrushed slightly red face. 

Soon, he's pulling out of your slippery, wet hole. Your mouth makes an “o” shape, before crying out Yoongi’s name as you orgasm again.  Your body fluids shot out of you and coating the mirror—and you squirt again, just as he was wanting to get you to do. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes closed as you were trying to catch your breath. You could feel your hips still twitching from being so sensitive. This was something you’ve never experienced before. 

He’s kissing the side of your head, mumbling sweet words. He gently lays you back down on the bed on your back, allowing you some time to relax for a bit. You can feel the mix of his and your fluids seeping out of your hole, dripping down to your other puckered hole.

Your eyes flutter open and they couldn’t help but take a quick scan at the naked man’s body that stood in front of you. As you look lower, you can’t help but notice that his cock was still painfully hard, standing up straight with a slight curve to it.

He towers over you, watching every small movement you make. Although he was being sweet to give you some time to rest, by the look he was making you could tell he was hungrily waiting for the next round. He licks his lips as a lazy smile forms on his face as your eyes finally meet.

“Yoongi…,” you mumble. Your hand makes its way to his length, wrapping your fingers around it. Your essence still coats him, making it slippery enough for you to slowly stroke his cock. You look up at him with half-lided eyes.

He lowly groans in pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before bringing it back to look at you.

“Mmm…yes, baby?” 

“All that fucking and you’re still so hard?”

He’s laughing, an odd thing to do when someone is giving you a handjob. 

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Yeah?” You hum, slowing your movements. 

He takes his hand and wraps it around yours, helping you pump his cock before he starts to guide it to your slit. The two of you drag the tip against your wet folds.

“Looks like it’s the same for you too, baby. You’re fucking wet again.” He’s pushing himself into you again, the two of you letting go of his cock. He slowly sinks in, getting a little whimper out of you.

“All that fucking and you’re still clenching onto me so tightly, baby. You really love my cock inside you, huh?”

He’s pulling out, still keeping the tip in, before he thrusts back into you. 

“Mmmph~! F-fuck…! Yesss, Yoongi.”

He’s chuckling again, keeping his pace steady.

“Yeah?” He hums, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your thigh to keep it steady. Taking his free hand, he uses it to press firmly against your lower abdomen. You’re mumbling nonsense again from this new feeling of pleasure.

“God—I fucking love you,” he grunts, bringing your other leg over his shoulder. He’s leaning against you, practically folding your body in half just to reach you even deeper. This position had you rolling your eyes back, reaching for any body part of him to dig your fingernails into his skin. Yoongi would switch it up at times—from giving you fast yet shorter strokes to taking his sweet time as he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slowly bring himself back in. However, he made it his goal to make sure every thrust was sharp enough to bruise your cervix. 

Your mouth hangs open, nothing but airy moans escaping from it with every thrust he makes. He brings his face to yours, using this opportunity to probe his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances along with yours before he captures it in his mouth. He’s sucking on it, eliciting more moans from you but he removes himself to swallow them. You pull away to catch your breath, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter.

“Gonna…cum—,” you mumble under your breath. 

Yoongi huffs, giving you small pecks on the sides of your mouth. He really didn’t need you to let him know. He could already tell by the way your insides were clamping onto him. 

He’s quickly removing himself from you, denying your orgasm. The man watches your hips move in desperation, your hole spasming around nothing as he helps you rest your legs on the bed.

“Yoongiii—hnngh…,” you cried, voice whiney. “So mean,” you quietly mumble.

He smirks at your words.

Without any word, he rolls you onto your stomach. The man lifts your hips upwards to have your ass sticking up and spreads your legs apart. He pushes the upper portion of your body against the mattress, your arms cushion your head as you lay there. With his large hand, he presses on the small of your back, helping you with a deeper arch. 

“Beg for my cock, baby.”

You turn your head around to look back at him, shaking your head in disagreement while he has you in this position.

His left eyebrow lifts up and a dark chuckle escapes his lips.

“You were behaving so well earlier, princess.” He hums, taking his dick and running it through your wet folds to collect your arousal. “Now you want to be a brat?”

“Don’t want to beg anymore,” you mumble.

He scoffs. “So should I end it here?”

“Go ahead. I’ll find someone else who could do a better job then. They would let me cum.”

He smacks the sides of your ass, getting a yelp out of you.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Maybe I can call up this one guy—.”

He grasps the sides of your ass, spreading them apart to reveal your needy pink, dripping hole. He slowly sinks into you, causing you to let out a shaky moan. Yoongi keeps still inside of you, making sure you’re taking in all of him.

“You only need me, baby—your fucking boyfriend. I’m the only one who gets to see you this way and get you to cum.”

He can’t help but absolutely hate the sound and the thought of you with another man. It drove him crazy just hearing you mention “some other guy”.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, little moans coming out of you as being stuffed with his dick made you go dumb in the head.

“—Yoongi—ngggh—! Move!”

He lifts your hips higher, pressing the small of your back to get you to arch your back more. He leans over you, his pelvis pressed against your ass, making you feel his dick even further in you, causing you to let out a swear. He leaves gentle kisses on the back of your naked shoulder.

“Say please,” he mumbles into your skin.

“F—fuck, Yoongi!” You grumble, annoyed at his words.

He waits patiently, letting his silence and your soft whimpers fill the air. The man couldn’t care less if he had to stay in the position for hours—he loved the feeling of your soft, warm, and wet pussy pulsating around him. 

And with that, you knew you couldn’t win.

 “—Please—!” You cry out. 

“Remind me who I am again.”

“—boyfriend!” You quickly spat out, desperate for him to move already.

“You gonna be a good girl for me again?”

You’re quick to nod your head ‘yes’.

He grins at your response, happy with how easy he can get you to be submissive when you’re full of his cock.

“Now was that so hard to do, princess?”

He’s pulling out, just the tip barely in you.

“…annoying,” you mumble under your breath.

He slams himself into you again, causing you to moan out his name.

“Yeah? I’m annoying too, huh? A big mean, annoying boyfriend, right?”  His voice was low and gravelly.

He starts to find a rhythm and pace as he starts to pound your pussy. Snapping his hips to make sure his skin hits against yours as loud and as hard as he can, the noises filling the room and the skin of your ass slowly turning a shade of red.

He’s searching for your dildo that was thrown somewhere nearby. Once he finds it, he’s immediately taking it. He leans over you as he fucks you, placing the dildo in front of you. Yoongi halts his movements, removing himself from you.

“Yoongi~,” you whine, swaying your ass side to side. You push your hips back, trying to find him so you could reconnect again.

God, this view—this scenario. It’s all he could easily get used to.

“C’mon, baby you can’t be doing that to me,” he slightly groans, “you’re driving me crazy.”

“Please,” you mumble, bringing your hands behind you. You place one hand on the sides of your ass, gently spreading it apart so that Yoongi has a better view of your weeping hole. You turn your head to look back at him as you hold yourself in this position, swaying your ass side to side. “Please go crazy and fuck me already, Yoongi.”

What a fucking invite.

“Fuck,” he hissed, running his hand through his wet hair. He could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, making him painfully harder. His mind went damn blank just from hearing you say that while being in such a pornographic position. 

You seriously knew how to turn him on. 

How fucking dangerous.

He’s bringing himself closer to you, rubbing his erect cock in between your ass, allowing it to slide back and forth. It gets you impatient, causing you to wiggle your ass again as he continues with his movements.

“Be a good girl and keep that dildo in your mouth while I fuck you, alright princess?” He gives the side of your ass another gentle slap as a form of encouragement.

Yoongi patiently waits for you to start bobbing your head, along with the vulgar slurping noises you obnoxiously made.

Did you really enjoy having that dildo inside your mouth when he was right behind you?

He mentally scoffs out of jealousy, knowing that he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. 

You became louder with your muffled moans once Yoongi was inside of you again, making those dumb thoughts disappear. The view of you being filled up both way clearly made him way too hard—he was instantly fucking you at a brutal pace, almost as if he hasn’t touched you in ages.

He’s rougher this time; using one hand to gather your hair and make a makeshift ponytail just to wrap it around his hand to help you guide your head along your dildo while the other free hand is gripping the side of your ass as he fucked you from behind.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. Sucking on your dildo while I fuck you senseless, just like a pretty little slut you are.” 

His thrusts had more force to them, your skin turning redder than before. He wanted to demolish you, make you melt underneath him. All you could do was hum into your dildo in pleasure, holding onto the base for dear life. You could feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes whenever your dildo would reach deeper in your throat, causing you to gag on it. Of course, Yoongi thought all of this was sexy. God, it was fucking sexy.

He found that one spot again that has your mind spinning. The man angles himself so that he kept hitting that spot over and over again.

You immediately pull away from your dildo, drool escaping from the sides of your mouth.

“Y-yoongi—!” You yelped, your hands let go of the dildo after you toss it to the side, now gripping onto the sheets.

He releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to the front of your neck to pull you up and your back arched against him, changing the position again. The other hand around your waist to keep you steady.

Yoongi brings the side of his head to yours.

“Not gonna let you get away from me,” his gravely voice whispers against your ear—and god did that send tingles down your spine.

The pressure of his hand around your neck was pleasurable enough to keep you lightheaded. However that hand goes to toy with your breasts, fiddling with piercing and pinching your nipple before taking a big handful of your breast to massage it as he fucked you.

He finally brings his hand to your front, pressing his two fingers against your swollen and sensitive bead. You feel your hips twitch, unable to control your body movements. All you could feel in this moment was how hard the two of your heartbeats were and pure ecstasy. This man knew how to fuck. Scratch that—he knew how to fuck you. He’s already memorized what had you throwing your head back, what’s got you clenching so damn tightly around him, or what has you babbling nonsense just from fucking you a couple times.

“Yoon—gi! Haaah~!” You turn your head to the side and towards him. He brings his face to yours, attacking your lips again before you pull away a moaning mess.

“Fuck—you take me in so goddamn good, baby,” he grunts, “you wanna cum, huh, baby?”

You’re nodding your head, feeling yourself nearly on the brink of losing yourself again. He’s just about bruised your cervix enough and made your damn clit so swollen and sensitive to touch. You knew you were already making a mess around his dick.

He moves his hand away from your breast and around your waist again, embracing you and holding you tightly for what’s yet to come. Your arms hold onto his arm with one of your hands interlocking with his, a gesture that had him feeling like his heart grew 10x in size. He loves you. He’s way too in love with you—head over heels at this point.

If it was even possible, he’s fucking you even harder. Grunting into your ear, telling you how good you are, how damn pretty you are—how fucking perfect you are, practically made just for him. It was all enough for you to finally lose it, and it was the same for him too. He’s groaning in pleasure when he feels your pussy twitching around him. His warm cum coats the inside of your walls before it oozes out when he removes himself. You fall forward and lay against the bed with your arms weakly holding you up. He watches the mixture of your cum slowly dripping out before he takes his two fingers to push it right back in, only for it to slip out again. He’s quick to get the kleenex tissues to wipe you up, letting you have some time to  catch your breath. You’re rolling over to finally lay down on your side, watching the boy walk through the door.

“I went ahead and got the bath running, baby,” he hums, helping you sit back up. He pulls you onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“You’re insane, Yoongi.”

“Am I?” He lazily smiles.

“I really don’t know what possessed you back there.”

He laughs, “Baby, I haven’t had a taste of you like that in so damn long. I couldn’t help it.” 

Before you knew it, he had you relaxing in the bathtub while he cleaned up the room and got it ready with new sheets and all for the two of you to get some rest. 

—

You could feel Yoongi’s body pressed against your back; his arm sitting across your waist and his head nuzzled against the back of your head. This was all something you had never imagined for yourself—to be lovingly cuddled like this after a long night with your now boyfriend who was an ex “fuckboy” from your school, but it’s definitely something you could get used to. 

You carefully remove yourself from his hold, quickly replacing yourself with one of your pillows. You glance over at him to see his sleeping figure one last time before leaving, and softly scoff with a smile on your face. 

This man is actually very cute when he’s sound asleep.

You quietly pick out some new clothes before tip-toeing away to your bathroom across the hall to get yourself ready for that well-deserved shower.

-

After putting on your clothes, you open the bathroom door, letting all the moisture and heat out. You take the time to gently brush your hair a little more after blow drying it, then applying some hair oil to the ends of it.

“You can’t just leave me like that and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your head quickly turns around to see the mumbling boy, squinting a half-asleep eye at you while using one of their fists to rub one of their other eye. You chuckle at his appearance—his naked torso and his boxers. He stood there in between the door frame, looking like an actual child who just woke up.

“It was just a quick shower, babe.” You turn around to the mirror and continue what you were doing. “I’ll be in the room soon.”

He grunts, making his way towards you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him and lays his head on top of your shoulder.

“Yoongi~,” you whined with a soft chuckle. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s only allowed in bed.”

“Mm, so last night was just it, huh?”

He snorts with a chuckle at your comment, barely having enough energy to react a lot bigger.

“‘One time’ my ass. You’re stuck with me. Not letting you off that easy.”

He turns to your head and presses kisses to your hair. You bring a hand up to gently pat the side of his cheek.

“Congrats on passing the class,” you mumble, “and for finally getting that boyfriend title you’ve been wanting.”

Yoongi turns to look at you with a big smile on his face through the mirror, your hand gently caressing the side of his face. The two of you turn to each other, pressing a small kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“I know a better way you could congratulate me.”

You immediately knew exactly what he was hinting.

“You told me you’d give me whatever I want plus the boyfriend title.”

Fuck—yeah, you did promise that.

You sigh in defeat.

“…Breakfast first?” You bat your eyelashes at him, giving him that doe-eyed look that made his heart flutter like crazy.

He looks at you with so much adoration, in awe that this beautiful girl was finally his. 

-

if you got this far, thank you for the read <3 :)

i hope you enjoyed!! pls check out my other work!

[chronicdelusionistsart]

Bernard Dowd and the Art of Recontextualization

I'm what you might call a "fake Batman fan" - that is, I've only watched most of the Batman animated series', all of the live action movies, most of the animated ones, played some of the video games... so, you know, probably thousands of hours of my life in Batman related media. But not the comics! Fake fan!

Frankly, I find the comics medium the way DC and Marvel do it to be really hard to follow. There's the fact that you can't really follow an individual solo character without them getting caught up in massive crossover events that ruin their arc and pacing, there's the soap-opera-iness that encourages cheap and revolving conflicts inherent to the longform monthly release schedule, the writer roulette, and there's also just that going back to try and thread a particular continuity or character is an exercise in frustration. Oh and the retcons. Everyone hates those. They've (basically) never been good. Don't remember this part it will never come up aga

But, you know, despite this - or maybe because of this - comics is a breeding ground for ideas. Because of the quick turnaround and the demand for novel conflicts, comics just churn out idea after idea. Good ideas, bad ideas, doesn't matter. Get it to print. Retcon it later if we write ourselves into a corner. Comics are often soooooo first draft coded. This is why I personally prefer adaptations - they often reimagine ideas and retcon them into new narratives where they can serve a more coherent plot. But what happens when a character is picked up for a second draft ... without actually contradicting the earlier material? While enriching the earlier material, even?

(SPOILERS for Tim Drake: Robin and uh... 20 year old comics under the cut!)

So, uh, quick disclaimer - because I have very little overall knowledge of DC's Comics continuity, there may be more interesting examples of times that what I'm going to point out was done. But I love Bernard and from a writer's POV I'm impressed with the way they did it so we're talking about Bernard lmao

The Beginning (Robin 1993) - Reading comics from the 2000s hurts in a way I can't describe

Okay so I heard Tim Drake is dating a guy now? (Penny Sonic voice) Whoa he's bisexual I didn't know that! I'm sure people on the internet are being very normal about this. Cool let's find out more about his new bf. I like starting from the beginning... so like yeah hold on while I crack open the Robin comic and take down what this guy's deal is.

😬

So basically the TL;DR of Bernard in his original appearances is that he seems to be an attempt to introduce some normal stakes teen drama into Tim's life. He has all the Funny Guy Friend Classics - he's got an inflated sense of his proficiency at pulling girls, he's inexplicably drawn towards the protagonist (who is cooler than him), he wants to date the most popular girl in school, and he wants to get down with older women!

This might just be me but while I was going through this I thought like, he almost reads a little uncanny, like he's been filtered through a Disney Teen Special. In practice he mostly serves to introduce Tim to the Real Plot, Darla Aquista, and be one of his ties to civilian life, which is, like, fine. He's ultimately just a background character and he's so unimportant that he only has one appearance after their school gets shot up(!!!), which is, again, to be more of an accessory to the Darla plot.

After this display of "wow this guy's kind of lowkey insane for offering to his resurrected bestie supervillainess to be her manager actually", he's dropped forever. Comics! We're not gonna unpack that.

The Sequel (Batman: Urban Legends) - We're Gonna Unpack That

Until almost two decades later when he calls Tim up for a date. And while I'm trying to skim over a lot to get to the point here and I don't really know the FULL context, it is notable that Tim is in the middle of an identity crisis / the cusp of adulthood when this happens (I think he just lost a spleen or something. That sucks dude). It's pretty implicit that part of the reason he's going to see Bernard is because he's someone familiar in a time when he's facing a lot of new and scary stuff.

And at first blush, he really does seem like the same dude. The familiar arm over the shoulder, the banter, it's all very casual and similar to the ribbing from high school -

- and I guess nothing has happened to Bernard in the interim haha he's just the funny friend guy right?

I really like the way they did this. I'm just unambiguously going to praise how good this is if you just came off the 2000s stuff. Comics have kind of breakneck pacing by nature but they really manage to condense down and then pull off a neat sleight of hand over the course of like four pages here. They re-establish Bernard as a silly guy and then wham you with the fact that yeah actually we ARE gonna unpack that. Fuck you Tim Drake life is ever changing and nothing stays the same

So the TL;DR on the rest of the Urban Legends storyline is that stuff like, HAPPENED to this guy while our focus was elsewhere. He learned martial arts, presumably so that he wouldn't be so helpless in the next school shooting level event, he got into a pain cult, he's just Not Doing Well. We find out, reading between the lines, that calling Tim on a date was probably one of his last attempts to reach out to someone when the cult stuff was getting really bad.

I've heard people complain that Bernard is uninteresting or not a character or entirely focused on his relationship with Tim, and I think that criticism is really weird considering that his entire re-debut focuses on the point that he's been having his own life and making his own (often wild) decisions - ones that really changed the course of his life - while Tim was gone. And it's also notable that this story is about how the fact that he's his own person and has changed and has made the nerve-wracking decision to take action and call Tim inspires Tim himself to take a leap and fling himself into the uncertain waters of young adulthood.

Me when I have my bi awakening and call to get out of a rut simultaneously because Cute Insane Guy Inspired Me. iconic

So that's how Bernard has changed. But that's not recontextualization, that's just the writers taking a guy and making him do another, cooler thing. Well hold the fuck on because we're not goddamn done.

What did he mean by th-

The Recontextualizerrrrr (Tim Drake: Robin) - Bernard is the funniest person in Gotham City. I'll not be taking constructive criticism on this

Tim Drake: Robin is the followup to the Urban Legends story and Tim is the main character fr. Obviously. but Bernard is also a major character. Later, he even gets to be a POV character. But they don't do that for several issues, instead treating us to his shenanigans from Tim's point of view as he solves a bizarre serial murder case and like, they're cute! And neither of them are normal in the slightest. I love that for them.

Again, TL;DR, there are a lot of interactions where Bernard talks to Tim both in and out of costume, but we don't get to see his POV until they go out to a restaurant and meet Bernard's parents there by accident and Tim has to run off to do Robin stuff. And like... a lot of stuff happens in this one bois. Whammy after whammy

We're suddenly introduced explicitly to a lot that was only implied or just completely unavailable before. Bernard's parents are ragingly homophobic. Probably were never great even before that. He suffers from depression. All that is a lot to. wait. hold on a second

he knows?????

HE KNOWS????

Okay so if you stop at this point and reread the entire run so far you find out that Bernard is in fact the biggest troll in the entire universe. This is the moment that cemented him as my favourite, by the way. Like I had a feeling that he knew and I was just laughing my ass off when my suspicions were confirmed.

But this is really interesting on top of that because Bernard has been revealed to be, at this point, a guy who you should look deeper than the surface to understand. Someone who masks his true self and whose true motivations you can only uncover if you're really looking past the facade. Even with Tim, he sort of offers Tim and Robin half the story each, taking advantage of Robin's "distance" to give out information he wants Tim to think about but that he's reluctant to talk about frankly while at the same time almost daring Tim to open up about his identity.

Absolutely most normal way to tell your bf about your cult trauma. You'll always be famous to me Bernard Dowd

This is a really neat trick by the writers. It makes Bernard a multifaceted character who got to quietly develop while we were mostly focused on Tim, and there's some clever clever foreshadowing they set up in this run to achieve this. If it were just this, I would call it good writing.

But it actually goes one level deeper than that and becomes something really really special. because as we all know, Bernard was not conceived to be this way, he was a one-off guy who was kind of annoying and he was essentially retconned to be, like. Gay? Have depth? Be funny? All of those things?

The Seamless Retcon (Robin 1993 Again) - We took your guy and we gave him gay subtext and it worked astoundingly well

This is not a new observation btw, I've seen a ton of posts to this effect. But oh my god. Some of these panels really hit different with the new Bernard lore. Like holy fuck just read this back to back

There are tons of moments like this. There's SO MUCH that the revelation that Bernard is queer adds to his initially extremely underwhelming tenure in the Robin comics. A reread almost begs the question of what Bernard must have been thinking at any given moment! BRO YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO FUCK HIS STEPMOM. That's completely believable as a next-level closeting move and goes from kind of annoying to turbofunny.

Like yeah of course he's acting like a douche. His father is a status-chasing asshole and he's five racks deep in the closet. Of course he gravitates towards Tim - his gaydar is pinging and he thinks Tim is cute. And it's also pinging that Tim is like. You know

None of this would hit as hard if the writers had not set up Bernard as someone who masks so much. They worked it in that character trait to mean that you could always glean information deeper than the surface from his top level interactions.

Because of this, Bernard is really fucking interesting and he's a good character and he's one that gets better on reread. Like I said, that's a set of observations that are not new to me. But something that really gets to me is how seamless and intentional it is. It really feels like the writer sat down and took their time devising a guy that is believable as that other guy, but only if you read back with certain context.

The conclusion - Comics. Man.

So is this just about how Bernard is really fucking interesting and he's a good character and he's one that gets better on reread and that he can exist independent of Tim and all the haters are wrong. Yeah of course. 💖

But also like, I have thoroughly proven to myself that I was kinda wrong to just reject the published comics medium out of hand. I see now that there's room for the writer's roulette to hit the jackpot and that something I mistook as an outright flaw, the winding and unfocused and often improvised nature of it, can be ridden like a wave if you're skilled enough to do it. Meghan Fitzmarten is a goddamned genius.

I guess I have to read comics now. Fuck

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Daughter Reader

Summary For years, you’ve survived tethered to Joel’s side, haunted by the loss of your sister and scared to step outside of his shadow. So when he bonds with the girl he’s tasked to smuggle, it strains your complicated relationship—until the threat of losing him forces you to confront just how much he means to you [angst, fluff, 5.4k].

A/N This is some of my favorite prose I've written recently. Daughter!reader is a new dynamic for me, but it was such a rewarding writing experience. Thank you to the anon who sent this request in. I hope you all enjoy.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

It’s cold outside today. If the draft sneaking in through the windows isn’t enough to let on, the sky itself is an undeniable sign. There’s no blue, no clouds that can be distinguished from the next. The entire expanse is a pale white sheet. As if the heavens have decided to shield earth from its view because of how far it’s fallen. 

Nevertheless, life in the Boston Quarantine Zone labors on. Day after soulless day, rain or shine. Like a well-oiled machine who’s battered parts of flesh and blood refuse to lay down and die. 

The glass of the living room window is cool against your forehead as you gaze outside. Everything is dull. Brick, metal, concrete, and endless earthtones constitute the expanse of buildings that seemingly stretch for miles. However, after having explored every corner of this walled city, you know it’s finite. A mere portion of a much larger world trying to find its footing again. 

The people walking on the sidewalks below look small from the height of your apartment. All seeming to move on a droning autopilot, clad in worn clothes that likely belonged to ten other people before them. 

With a sigh, you step away from the window and plop back down on the couch. The coffee table is cluttered with stained, old papers and trinkets, but you reach for the stack of Polaroids you’d previously been flipping through. Each photo and caption transports you back to a past moment in time...

tea for two ♡ March 13, 2003 

A day that seems closer than it actually is, now confined to a single, glossy frame. The white border has faded to beige and the picture itself no longer bears its original saturation. In it, you and Sarah are wrapped in each other’s arms, dressed like princesses for the tea party you invited her to. 

You were her three-year-old shadow, and even though you got on her nerves half the time, she found it hard to say no to you. Everybody in the Miller household did. 

lake day!!! July 4, 2003 

A sunny day. You, Sarah, and Joel are squinting into the light but smiling, your backs to the lake. Later that night, according to Joel’s retelling, you cried because of the colorful, celebratory explosions bursting amid the night sky. 

dad’s getting old (jk ily dad) September 26, 2003

Joel’s smile is shy as he sits at the kitchen table with a cone birthday hat on his head. Sarah was the one behind the lens while you clung to her leg, both you and Tommy making goofy faces in hopes of making Joel smile wider. 

He turned thirty-six that day. By that evening, everything had changed. Not just because of the outbreak, but because Sarah, who had been a light in so many of the photos, was gone too. A few months after her fourteenth birthday, no less. 

It feels strange being twenty-three now. An age she never got to see—

The faint metallic clinking of a belt being fastened prompts you to curiously stand to your feet. After setting down the photos, you saunter to the hallway, where there’s a straight view to Joel’s bedroom. The door is cracked, and warm lamplight pours out to light the end of the hall. With each step closer you take, the old, wooden floorboards creak. 

When you make it to the door, you rap your knuckles against it a few soft times. There’s shuffling on the other side. 

You knock again when there’s no response. “Dad?” 

“What’s up?” he doesn’t say it in a clipped, annoyed way so you know he hadn’t heard your previous knocking. 

“Can I come in?” 

He’s quiet for a beat. “I’m finishing up getting dressed. But yeah.”

Inside, the bed still isn’t made. He’s standing in front of the full body mirror leaning against the wall. The paint of the gold trim around it is peeling, revealing the dark aluminum beneath. The glass itself is a bit foggy with stubborn grime that refuses to be scrubbed away. And right in the middle, at the same height that Joel stands, is a sizable spiderweb crack that makes his face look fragmented unless he bends down or shifts to either the left or right. 

Right now, he doesn’t seem to mind the distortion of his face, more interested in assessing his clothes. When you step up behind him, a little to the right, your entire body looks whole. Face and all. 

His eyes briefly flick to you as he continues to button the rest of his olive colored shirt. When he’s finished, he sucks in his stomach and pushes down the waistband of his dark jeans to rest at a more comfortable place on his hips. 

It isn’t until then that you notice a small portion of the back of his shirt is flipped up, the fabric thick enough to hold its place. You reach out to smooth it down. Joel hums in realization. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“Yep,” you murmur. “I thought you were off today.” 

Turning around and brushing past you, he sits in the accent chair to put on his boots. A grunt escapes him with the effort of leaning down. You watch as his thick, battered fingers fumble with the laces until they produce two neat bows. He sits back with a sigh when he’s done, running a hand through his fluffy, silvering hair. 

“I’m meeting with Marlene,” he says. The way you frown tells him that’s not a good thing, or nearly enough information. “Tess will be there too. It’s looking like we might be able to get that car battery we need to set out for Tommy.” 

You process that information with a slow nod. The idea of finding him feels elusive these days. 

A few weeks ago, Marlene told Joel she knew a couple guys who could provide resources. At various points in the months prior, she claimed the very same thing. Every promise she made fell flat because those said contacts either died or backed out of the negotiation. Yet, Joel held out hope every time. 

It used to be you who accompanied him whenever he went to meet with Marlene, but it’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t bring yourself to believe her or stand seeing her face. 

But Joel still did. For the sake of his own conscience. For Tommy. 

After standing from the chair, he fishes into his back pocket for a red cardstock meal card. When you reach out to take it from him, he doesn’t let go, instead opting to look directly into your eyes. 

“Want you to meet us for lunch at the northern dining commons at noon. We should be done by then,” he says, waiting for you to nod so he knows you’re tracking. 

“Don’t leave before then, alright? It’s getting crazier out there. Don’t know if it’s ‘cause summer’s coming or what.” 

“I won’t,” you insist. 

When you try to take the card again, he holds onto it just for the sake of coaxing a smile out of you. It doesn’t quite meet your eyes, but it’s enough to tie him over for now. He lets go of it just as you’re in the middle of pulling, and the lack of resistance makes you stumble backwards. The sound of amusement he huffs out earns him a light punch to the shoulder. 

“I mean it, though.” He points a finger. “Don’t leave till it’s time, alright? We’ll fill you in on everything then.” 

Rolling your eyes, you follow him back out into the living room. “I already said I wouldn’t.” 

“Well, reiterating is my job.” 

Those are the words he leaves you with before heading out the door.  

A few hours later, when the clock strikes twelve, you’re eating at the dining commons alone. Anxiousness prickles beneath your skin. You soothe yourself as chatter and the clinking of silverware float up all around you…

Everything’s fine. Joel’s alright. Tess is alright. Just finish eating and go home. 

•••

Sunset paints the sky that evening. The clouds that lingered all day have finally made way for an expressionist ombre of blue, pink, and orange. It's beautiful in a way that would’ve been worth photographing once upon a time. 

All you can think about is the fact that Joel hasn’t returned. 

A little past seven, voices arise in the hallway. They’re hushed and somewhat frustrated, one of them undeniably belonging to Joel. By the time keys hastily begin jingling in the door, you’re popping to your feet from the couch. A second later, it swings open with enough force that it hits the neighboring wall. 

“Get inside,” Joel orders. You can’t see him from where you’re standing. 

You can’t see anybody. 

“I don’t have to keep listening to you,” quips a tight, youthful voice. “Whatever happened to stranger danger?”  

“Move, Ellie,” Joel says. “Before I make you.” 

A young girl wearing a backpack trudges into the apartment with a scowl. After looking around the bleak accommodation, her eyes settle on you. The air falls silent. You note the wispy flyaways escaping her short ponytail, the slight redness to her eyes like she’s been either crying or rubbing them. 

Ellie sizes you up in return. You can see it in the calculated rove of her dark gaze, the way she squares her shoulder to match your guardedness. 

She eventually whips her attention back to Joel. “Who the hell is she?” 

“Told you I didn’t live alone.” That’s all he gives her before redirecting his attention to you. He seldom reveals the entirety of what he’s feeling in a given moment, but you can see the guilt weighing down on his shoulders. “I—” 

“You missed lunch.” 

He runs a heavy hand down his face. “I know.” 

The girl looks between the two of you with owl-like attentiveness that borders on amusement. At least she wasn’t the only one having a shitty day. Outside, shouting voices arise in the distance. Glass bottles break. 

“Dad. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Ellie’s eyes widen at the revelation. 

Joel doesn’t say anything because you’re staring daggers straight into his very being.  

“I’m immune to the virus,” she speaks up. There’s a hint of pride in her tone, like she’s looking past the present to some undefined future in which she saves the world.  

“He’s gonna take me to the people who can find the cure. Then you guys are gonna go find Timmy or whatever—Tommy.”  

It’s an oversimplification, but Joel doesn’t have the energy to expound right now. Not when you look like you would lunge for him if it wasn’t for the girl.

••• 

Later that night, he sees the first shove coming. Your eyes darken until you’re no longer able to constrain your frustration to a mere look. It frustrates you all the more when he doesn’t budge. So you do it again, pushing both your hands straight into his chest. 

All he does is take a single step backwards to create distance, hands raised in surrender. The fact that he isn’t reacting makes more heat consume your face. 

Until, finally, he grabs your wrists. 

“Are you done acting like a child?” he asks.

“As soon as you quit treating me like one,” you bark. “All you do is give orders and break promises, and I’m supposed to keep following you around like a dog.” 

“I don’t see any shackles.”

“Because it’s you,” you retort, attempting to pull away from his light hold. “You’re the shackles, the prison guard, and the key.” 

Those words make him drop your wrists as if you’ve stung him with poison. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. The mattress creaks under his weight. In the new silence, you stand and stare at him as your breaths even out. 

Neither of you are aware that Ellie has her ear pressed to the other side of the bedroom door, listening. 

When he lifts his head, only then are you aware of how tired and worn down he looks. His hair is more disheveled than it was this morning. The same hair you used to playfully run your fingers through and litter with sparkly hair clips. Except now, his face is void of a smile. 

“I’m sorry about lunch, alright?” His dark eyes search yours for any inkling of forgiveness. He knows he scared you. That’s what’s beneath your anger. “I didn’t know I was gonna get held up like that.” 

Joel Miller was a lot of things, but a pushover wasn’t one of them. 

If he really wanted to, he could’ve at least come to the dining commons to explain. Or ignore Marlene’s request entirely, and force her to find someone else to smuggle the girl. Even Tess had refused to involve herself in the escape plan because she feared it would be all risk and no reward.

“What happens if these guys turn out to be dead too?” You ask Joel, voice softer than before. “What if this is yet another exchange that falls through?” 

He knows you have a point. He also knows he has a brother out there miles away who recently sent him a signal. 

“If there’s a chance, I gotta take it,” he says. “And if we get out there and nobody’s waiting for us, we’re heading to Wyoming anyway.” He meets your gaze. 

You swallow and blink in surprise. “Really?” 

“I’m done waiting around for the right time,” he says, voice low but firm. “It’s never gonna come. Gotta forge it ourselves.” 

He sounds sure. Right now, you could use something to believe in. And if nothing else, a change of scenery from the city walls you’ve been confined within for far too long. 

•••

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝐈.

The Capitol Building is empty when you arrive, no sight of the men who were supposed to take Ellie and give you and Joel the supplies you need to carry on. For a while, the three of you linger hopefully on the inside, where grass grows through the chipped marble floors. The only people who eventually arrive are ridden with the virus, their rotting bodies infested with fungus from the inside out. 

You promptly flee the scene after swallowing disappointment like a pill. 

𝐈𝐈.

The front door of Bill and Frank’s house is unlocked when you arrive in the desolate suburbia. Dead grass and tall weeds constitute the yard. The flower beds out front have long wilted. That’s enough for you to know that they’re either dead or gone. Joel pushes into the house anyway, with you and Ellie trailing behind. Bill left a note behind. They’re dead. Ellie asks questions about them that Joel thoughtfully answers.

The three of you take turns showering, then leave.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.

By early August, the trio feels more like a unit, having been bound together by shared letdowns and long nights under the stars. Some days, you don’t know where you are until coming across specific landmarks or recognizable cliffs. You and Joel teach Ellie how to shoot because she wouldn’t stop begging. Most days, as you’re making progress towards Wyoming, it’s the two of you trailing behind Joel, who often shoots unreadable glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re keeping up. 

Sometimes he lets down his walls to offer a small smile. 

•••

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

All around, tall trees stretch towards the sky, bearing vibrant leaves beginning to change colors. Every so often, a breeze rolls through and ruffles them. The same mourning dove has been calling out into the wind with no response in return. It’s a tune that filled the mornings of your childhood back when you were on the road to Boston with Joel. You hadn’t heard it much since. 

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath your boots as you squat to lower your fingertips into the creek. The water is cool against your skin, and clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. When you stand up, you startle at the sight of Ellie standing a few yards away. She takes a few apologetic steps back, almost tripping over herself. 

Further away, Joel sits with his back propped against a tree as he reorganizes the contents of his backpack. 

“Jesus, El,” you sigh, pressing a hand to your chest over your heart. 

Ellie no longer seems sure of her reason for approaching you. There were times when she didn’t look her age—whether it be her stare or the way she carried herself—but this wasn’t one. Now, an air of self-consciousness surrounds her, like she’s caught between knowing nothing and everything all at once. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me,” she rushes out. There’s a pang of guilt when you realize she thinks you’re angry. 

“No, it’s fine,” you insist, softening your tone. “I’ve just been in my head.” 

She nods and feels more comfortable to step up alongside you. 

“I’ve seen those pictures you’ve been looking at.” She continues when you don’t say anything, “Was that your sister?” 

Neither you or Joel have brought her up, but your silence is an answer. 

“What was she like?” 

“I don’t remember much.” 

Only bits and pieces. The larger gaps have been filled in by Joel over the years. He never talks about Sarah at length, but sometimes he’ll see something or you’ll make an expression that reminds him of her. That usually prompted him to tell a short story. Oftentimes, without meeting your eyes because he was too busy trying to busy his restless hands. Talking about her always makes him fidget. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” 

Ignoring her, you ask, “Did Joel say when we were gonna start back hiking?” 

Embarrassed, Ellie clears her throat and shakes her head no. “Why do you use his first name like that?” You almost hadn’t realized. 

“Force of habit.” Her brows have furrowed in confusion, so you explain, “Half the time, people in the QZ only listened to me when I threw his name in the mix. It holds a lot of weight among certain groups these days.” 

“Like he’s the boogeyman or something?”

You allow a small chuckle to escape at her words. She feels like it earns her a place back in your good graces. Pride glimmers in the grin that stretches across her face. 

“Something like that,” you agree. 

The familiar crunch of leaves rises as Joel makes the short venture over to the two of you. When he sees the fleeting smiles on your faces, he clears his throat and waits to see if he’ll be invited into whatever small moment of amusement had arisen. He seems to have just missed it. 

“Speaking of the devil,” Ellie says, 

Joel frowns, remaining quiet as he walks up to the edge of the creek. He stares into the bottom for a few thoughtful seconds. Both of you watch as he squats down to splash his face with water, humming with refreshment. 

Ellie no sooner moves to copy him. She laughs, a bubbly surprised sound, as she stands with her face dripping and eyes squeezed shut.

“Wait, how do I—” 

“Use your shirt,” Joel quips lightly. 

“Oh, yeah!” She uses her shirt to dry her eyes just as he had.

The chuckle that rumbles through Joel’s chest is a sound you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you stand up straighter, unconsciously shifting his way as if the sound has the power to heal that part of you that misses him even when he’s within reach. Misses how things were before he grew hard and consumed with the need to survive. 

You didn’t fault him for it, though. 

What’s become increasingly clear, however, is that need was born as much out of spite as it was out of the pure, unadulterated will to live. The end of the world took Sarah, and to Joel, ensuring the two of you endured no matter what was his fuck you to the universe. His proof that everything he cared about couldn’t be ripped from his hands. It was a muddled labor of love. 

But right here, right now, he’s laughing. Not urging silence or trying to instill a survival lesson. He’s letting the moment wash over him for what it is. There you stand watching the two of them like a mere onlooker frozen in place. The entire scene is reminiscent of a different time. A different Joel. 

Something heavy and bitter settles in your stomach at the sight of their twin smiles. 

“Are you gonna try it?” Ellie asks like she’s referring to some grand experience.

“It’s just water,” you say flatly. 

Face falling, Ellie looks to the ground as if the bridge connecting you two had been burned yet again. Something protective flares in Joel’s chest. 

He gives you a pointed look. “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m great. Grand even.” 

The air shifts, levity disappearing like a vapor. All three of you can feel it.

“Let’s keep moving then.”

For weeks, you keep it moving. Through rain, shine, and snow. The closer you get to Wyoming, the further away you drift from Ellie and Joel. Like you’re the corner piece of an island that’s been chipped away from the larger landmass. 

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Arriving at the Jackson commune does little to mend things back to the way they were. Some days pass by with more conversation and laughter between the three of you than others. Coming here had been the very thing you longed for, right alongside Joel. But tonight, as you fold clothes at the secondhand store where you volunteer, you wonder what there is to dream about now. 

You don’t know what you like or want. You were so young when the outbreak began that Joel’s practices and motivations became your own. You don’t know where he ends and you begin, and the inability to distinguish makes a part of you resent him. 

The bells above the door jingle as Ellie enters with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Half of her hair is pulled into a ponytail, while the other falls in loose waves just past her shoulders. For once, it looks like she brushed it properly. 

You see more of her than Joel these days. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go over to Dina’s,” she says as she pads over to you. “Joel’s not home yet so I figured I’d come tell you.” She absentmindedly runs her hand over the cashmere sweater you’d folded minutes prior to her arrival. 

You set down the pair of jeans you just finished folding. “He’s not?” 

“No,” she says, unphased. “Probably went straight to the dining hall.” 

A dull, gnawing sense of worry arises in your chest. Ellie can’t see it or feel it herself, still tending to believe Joel was somehow invincible. That every time he went out for patrol, he was bound to return because that’s what he’d proven to her so far. 

“Be safe, okay?” you tell her. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

When she leaves, you head to the store owner in the back room. He’s rummaging through a huge box of donated items. 

“Hey, Stewart?”

There’s a click as two glasses knock into one another. “Goddammit—what?” He straightens up to turn around and face you. 

He has a head full of wiry gray hair and his glasses are crooked on his nose. There’s a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. 

“You alright back here?” you tease lightly. He grumbles and waves you off. “Would it be okay if I clocked out early? Natalie and Craig are out there, so you’ll still have help until closing.” It’s been pretty slow this evening anyways. No chance a random rush would occur. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, kid.” He huffs and looks back down at the box. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

“You’re the best, Stew.” You flash him a playful smile. 

Outside, you shiver at how cold it’s grown. Crossing your arms over your chest does little to alleviate the creeping chill. The first snow of the season has yet to fall, but you can feel it lingering in the crisp air. Nevertheless, Jackson Hole is buzzing. People of all ages flit in and out of shops and gathering spaces. Everywhere you look, there’s a friendly face, if not an actual friend. 

This time of year, the entire commune is reminiscent of those cute Christmas village displays. Plush wreaths with red bows hang on wooden posts, and colorful fairy lights shine all around. The most activity buzzes over at the dining hall. Families talk and laugh on the benches outside, and you can see people walking around inside through the windows. 

As you head that way, the two men standing on the patrol office porch capture your attention. It was probable that Joel was inside either logging or assessing his hours. 

When you make it to the building, you recognize the taller man as Cameron, someone who often partnered with Joel because they had the same, collected, no-nonsense way about them. They automatically nod to you in greeting, but their lips are set in firm lines like they have news you don’t. 

You offer a shaky smile back as a lump forms in your throat, “Evening.” 

Your heart rate speeds up as Cameron opens the door for you. Inside, six men stand circled around Tommy, who’s tone is firm as he talks with his hands. Some have rifles slung over their shoulders, and others have pistols on their hips. Standing among the group is Lyle, a younger guy who was scheduled to be Joel’s partner today. 

The only person missing is Joel. 

You allow your eyes to rove over the plaques, portraits, and retired weaponry decorating the walls as you await the end of Tommy’s lecture.  

“Let what happened out there today be a lesson—” Tommy stops talking when his eyes fall on you, and other heads turn to look your way. A few throats are cleared, necks are scratched. 

“Hold on a second, fellas.” He breaks out of the circle and heads towards you, cowboy boots clunking against the wood floorboards. There’s a rifle draped across his body like he’s ready for action. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to gather what this meeting is all about. Everybody has discretely turned to look at the two of you. 

“Tommy…” 

“Why don’t we step outside for a second, yeah?” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back to guide you back out into the cold. Cameron and his buddy slip inside out of respect for your privacy. 

“What’s going on, Tommy?” 

He wrestles with how to answer. You see it in his dark eyes, the way he shifts his stance. His cheeks are a bit flushed. 

“Joel hasn’t made it back,” he breathes. “Lyle made it in without him around an hour ago. Said they ran into some disgruntled nomads and got split up,” he says. “Got a few people out looking for him now, and I’m about to go out myself.” 

How foolish you’ve been acting these past several weeks hits you all at once. Everything from purposely distancing yourself from Joel, to occasionally ignoring him whenever he tried to ask how you’ve been—you’d made a point to be away from the house as much as possible. Most of all, it’d been foolish to pretend he wasn’t one of the only people in the world you wouldn’t be able to live without.

A stinging sensation pricks in your eyes, but no tears form. You don’t have it in you to cry. Helplessness crashes down on you in the form of frustration. 

“What do you mean came back without him?” you ask. “What good are patrol partners if they’re just gonna leave you behind—” 

“Hey. Hey.” Tommy looks at you intently. His eyes are so much like Joel’s that you look away. “This ain’t the time to be pointing fingers, alright? When you’re out there like that and shit hits the fan, you don’t know how you’ll react.” 

“Definitely not by leaving my partner behind.” 

Joel had never left you behind. Things had gone sideways time after time again, but you managed to remain by each other’s side. 

Worry radiates off of you in waves. 

“I’m worried out my ass too,” Tommy admits, trying to assure you. “But judging other people ain’t gonna bring him back any faster,” he says. 

When you release a heavy exhale and slink your head down, Tommy steps forwards to wrap his arms around you. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises. “You eaten dinner yet?” 

“I’ll probably throw up if I do.” 

He pulls away to look at you under the soft glow of the porchlight. “Let’s at least try to get a little something in your system, okay? I’ll walk you over to the dining hall.” Tommy guides you that way, and everything around you seems to fade in and out as you walk. 

Tommy’s words manage to break through to you, “I know my brother. He’ll make it back one way or another,” 

He always did. Maybe a bite to eat didn’t sound so bad. 

•••

The unyielding weight of your nerves forces sleep to find you when you make it home. Not in your bed, but on the couch as you sit and wait for Joel’s return. Worrying has taken a lot out of you. 

Creaky footsteps arise out on the porch. Then the lock clicks. Neither of which you register. By the time Joel is walking in through the front door, your eyes flutter open. There’s a slight sway to his stride like he’s favoring one leg. Other than that, he’s still in one piece. You’re on your feet in an instant, ignoring the crick in your neck. 

“Oh my god, Dad—thank god.” 

Joel stops in his tracks as you hurry over to him. He lets you look him over as if he’s a child who just fell off a bike. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” there’s a rasp to his voice.  

Relief is written all over your face. It’s the most interest you’ve shown in him in weeks, but he’s grateful for it anyways. He’s grateful for any mind you’re willing to pay him. 

There’s so much you want to say—I thought I lost you, don’t scare me like that again, I love you—but none of it comes out. Instead, it’s all packed into the way you step forward to throw your arms around him. 

But even hugging him doesn’t bring you close enough. 

Luckily, he’s so tall and broad that you settle for the feeling of being safe, cocooned in his arms. He squeezes you, not in the playful way that used to be a means of making you smile, but in a way that solidifies his presence. Assures you that he’s never going to let go. That you don’t have to worry about living without him.

As your tears wet his shirt, he doesn’t ease up or pull away. He remains constant like he’s been throughout your entire life, even on the days you thought you wanted him to disappear. 

He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head and you’re overcome with warmth.  

“I love you to pieces,” his voice is low and thick with sincerity. “So much it hurts.” 

It’s you who reluctantly pulls away to look up into his eyes. 

“I love you too,” you murmur, cheeks glistening with tears. 

The tears gathered in his eyes finally spill over. He doesn't turn away or tilt his head back in an attempt to fend them off. They simply roll down his cheeks at your words. You can’t recall seeing him cry since Sarah passed away. Guilt, sympathy, and gratitude swell in your chest. For the years he’s been strong for the both of you, for everyone who’s ever leaned on him in a time of need. He never made it look hard. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” 

“As long as you’re safe, I can handle being ignored.” He manages a small, sad smile. “It ain’t easy growing up during the end of the world.” Few things ever were. 

“It’s a little easier with you.” 

“Just a little?” He asks lightly. 

Both your smiles grow, and as you step back into his arms, every gripe and the chaotic events of the evening fade away.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

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