#and this may or may not have influenced me on the coloring (oops)

[braceletofteeth]

Never Let Me Go (1x02) | Our Skyy 2 (2x01)

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

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

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Here goes nothing and everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However. 

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

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

It’s weird to say it. 

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

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

“Oh, god.”

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

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

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did.”

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

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

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

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

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

Because they are still the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

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

And you’re going to.

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

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

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

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

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

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

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

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

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

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

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

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

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

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

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

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

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

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

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

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

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

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

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

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

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

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

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

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

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

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

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why should I.”

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

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

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

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

“…So it’s like that?”

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

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

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

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

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

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

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

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

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

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

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

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

“Trust me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You loved me?”

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

“What?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

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

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

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

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

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

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

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

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He said he still loves me.”

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

“Dom…”

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

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

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

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

“I know.”

“Now.”

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

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

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

“What do I have now.”

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

Huh?

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

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

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

“K.”

Wait, what.

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

His name is molasses on your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s true.” 

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

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

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

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

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

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

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

If you didn’t have to wait. 

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

But why does he seem so—

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

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

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

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

Huh.

What does he mean by—

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

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

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

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

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

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

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

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

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

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

“Doll, let me know because—”

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

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

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

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

“Fuck.” 

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

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

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

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

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

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

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

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

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

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

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

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

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

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

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

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

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

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

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

A plate. A bowl after that. 

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

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

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

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

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

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

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

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

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

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

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

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

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

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

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

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

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

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

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

Silence. 

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

“I always worry.” 

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

Shit, that was close. 

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

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

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

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

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

An apology.

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

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

This can’t be it. 

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

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

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

“…Oh.”

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

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

What the hell happened after he left your room?

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

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

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

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

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

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

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

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

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

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

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

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

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, really.”

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

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

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

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

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

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

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

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

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

…Is he paying loans? 

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

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

“So were you.”

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

“It’s whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

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

“I like it here, though.”

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

“Empty?” 

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

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

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

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

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

And regret others. 

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

“All the time.” 

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

“Hmm.” 

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

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

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

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

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

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

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

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

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

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

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

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

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

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

…Calling should be okay, right?

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

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

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

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

Fuck. 

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

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

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

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

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

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

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

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

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

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

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

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

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

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

Ah. No finish line in sight.

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

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

“When you get it.”

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

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

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

“See? Claiming shit already.”

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

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

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

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

“Just work stuff.”

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

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

“What.”

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

“…I see.”

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

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

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

“Not at you, doll.”

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

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

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

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

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

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

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

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

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

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

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

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

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

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

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

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

“Wait—” 

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

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

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

Yoongi: Missed Call

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

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

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

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

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

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

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

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

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

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

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

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

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s Jimin?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

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

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

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

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

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

“That’s good, at least.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

“Mm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. “Me? How?” 

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

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

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

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

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

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

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

“Mmk.” 

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

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

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

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

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

“You can definitely be upset.” 

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

Only warmth. And understanding. 

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

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

Him? Being more upset than you?

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

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

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

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

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

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

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

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

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

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

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

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

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

“You will.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

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

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

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

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

“It’s okay.”

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

“So?”

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

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

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

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

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

“Go get it, doll.”

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

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

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

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

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

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

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

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

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

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

“K. Have fun!”

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

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

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

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

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

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

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

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

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

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

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

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

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

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

Painful.

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

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

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

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

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

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

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

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

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

You can’t.

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

Your finger moves a bit closer.

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

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

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

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

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

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

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

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

“Hello?”

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

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

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

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

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

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

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

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

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

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

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

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

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

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

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

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

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

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

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

And your chest has never felt lighter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hustler.”

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

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

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

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

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

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

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

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

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

“You’re the smartass.”

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

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

“I just… You read.” 

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

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

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

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

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

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

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

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

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

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

And you glitch when you realize why.

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

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

Way too familiar.

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

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

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

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

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

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

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

Almost everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

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

“Stop.” 

You do. 

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

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

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

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

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

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

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

“The fuck.”

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

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

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

“Babe—”

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

“Are you su—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This.”

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck.” 

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

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

“So fucking filthy...” 

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

“Don’t do that.” 

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

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

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

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

Perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So fucking perfect.” 

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

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

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

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

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

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

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

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

“Uh uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly.

He stops. 

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

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

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

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

And again.

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

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

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

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

“Then fucking beg.” 

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

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

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

“Need you, too.” 

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

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

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

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

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now swallow.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better. 

It’s not. 

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds. 

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke. 

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” 

What is he— 

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass. 

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make. 

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” 

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.” 

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back. 

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.” 

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat. 

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear, 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs. 

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk. 

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise. 

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again. 

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it. 

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver. 

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips. 

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple  a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard. 

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips. 

“Again.” 

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying. 

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true. 

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands, 

“Again.” 

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want. 

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.” 

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. 

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months. 

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house. 

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there. 

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back. 

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things. 

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes. 

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes. 

Does he feel at home, too? 

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next. 

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets. 

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern. 

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure. 

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.” 

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.” 

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper, 

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed. 

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak, 

“I always do, babe.” 

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering. 

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this. 

“That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care. 

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” 

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, 

“A little longer is nothing.” 

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again. 

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.” 

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.” 

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.” 

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul. 

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds. 

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others. 

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window. 

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips. 

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours. 

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface. 

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones. 

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side. 

“Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head. 

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss. 

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light. 

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything. 

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

—

tbc. :) 

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)  A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.  A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[thenamesblurrito]

so. Transformers ONE was a good movie

i HIGHLY recommend going in blind, i do think it's incredibly effective with as few spoilers as possible beforehand! seeing it on the big screen is really really nice too, i encourage you to watch it in theaters without reading up on it first if you can!

long full-spoiler review and dissection of elements below (i reached the text block limit a couple times oops):

general stuff:

gorgeous. just genuinely visually gorgeous. so many details, colors, textures, everything was so beautiful. the stylization itself may not be my favorite but it was executed so well that i ended up loving it. their optics! their colors! their movement! the way the visuals serve the lore and the story is extremely well done too, i felt like everything i was seeing was deliberate, relevant, and a treat for the audience instead of just "ooo visual noise look at how powerful our cgi rendering is" (which is how i felt about the "live action" Lion King prequel(????) ad they showed before). all the little cameos and repaints and everything in the background? mwah. GORGEOUS MUSIC TOO AAAA THE WAY THAT TFP'S MOTIF IS IN THERE AAAA

the visual effects and action, the way they USED their roboticness/transformation sequences/vehicle modes in fighting and moving and emoting, it was VERY GOOD. Orion grabs a Death Tracker and RIPS THEM INTO PIECES BY TRANSFORMING AROUND THEM AND FORCING THEIR FRAME TO SHATTER. insanity

this is ABSOLUTELY the origin story movie the fandom has wanted. even if it wasn't your preferred origin story, this movie SHONE with love and respect for the franchise and drew on so many influences to craft a powerful version of the beginning we all wanted to see

in some ways i wish we had more, i think it would've been extremely effective to see things expanded upon, especially D-16's emotional descent and maybe some more Quints. actually looking at the content and pacing of the movie though, and the audience it's aimed at, i don't think there's anything they should've cut in favor of other stuff. i understand why it wasn't dwelt on more, but hooooo i would've liked to see Dee breaking apart a little more thru the middle of the film. apparently the novelization has more scenes of this and i would love to read it

i had so much fun watching this movie. it was a rollercoaster. it was a TREAT. i was sitting there enjoying every second both times i saw it because it was a good film that rewarded me greatly for being a Transformers fan, giving me so many easter eggs and injokes, while also being perfectly understandable and fun for a complete newbie. excellently balanced appeal to old and new fans alike

there was no wink to the audience about how stupid and childish a movie about robots is, there was no lampshading of how silly sci fi is, there was no betrayal of the emotional tone of the film. so many stories now kneecap themselves by mocking their very concept, and the audience watching them, in a very cinema sins-style irony poisoned way. this movie never does that. its humor is fitting, its drama is real, its emotion is all SINCERE and i love how i was never mocked by any part of the movie for engaging with it sincerely

this movie loved being a Transformers movie

anyways. specific stuff:

love how Wheeljack managed to explode everything despite not even being a scientist. he's just THAT good

THE INJOKES AND REFERENCES. "you don't have the touch OR the power." calling them Gobots. the corny More Than Meets The Eye bits. "don't be a glitch" is a headcanon swear i've been using for years now and they canonized it!! "High Guard, eject". "paging doctor Ratchet." the new take on "all are one". the really interesting way that the term Transformers is an actual significant in-universe name, and how Orion and Dee ARE NOT Transformers at first!

the sheer number of cameos is ASTOUNDING. what an excellent mix of masc/fem designs too, they really made it normal on this Cybertron which i appreciate! apparently Blurr exists here, his name was on the leaderboard!!!!!! good job Chromia i am so proud of you for winning. and the shots of the bots getting cogs at the end was aaAAA!!! <<33 my HEART! Jazz's little smile looking at his new doorwings!!

I GOT ALL MY SILLY OLD DEMIGOD FAVES I GOT THE THIRTEEN EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM AAAAAA ALPHA TRION MY GRANDPA god i'm so sorry you're dead but i can't believe you showed up on the big screen <<333 you and your rockin rhino unicorn lion alt mode. and your superpowers. god you're so cool. "old timer" NUH UH HE'S STILL BETTER THAN YOU!!!!! using Zeta for the thirteenth was an interesting choice! i did think he was Overlord for a hot second. it's the lips. Solus wasn't fridged by virtue of everyone else died too yippee!! ALSO MEGATRONUS THE COOLEST ONE WOOOO HES NOT JUST A FIERY EVIL GUY!!!!

the way Dee himself was, in a way, the Fallen of this continuity.... 😭

the way Sentinel was handcrafting his downfall with each touch of the blowtorch. carving the sigil of the Decepticons into the one who will kill him. dooming Cybertron in a moment of petty mockery. AND HE DOESN'T EVEN DRAW IT WELL IT'S LIKE A MESSY CRAYON DRAWING CMON

planetformer Primus in a blockbuster movie? CANONICAL EXPLICITLY STATED PLANETARY ROBO MPREG BIRTH IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES???? THEY USE THE WORD BIRTH. BORN. we are never escaping the reproductive insanity in this franchise

Shockwave you whiny tantrum throwing wuss. let Elita beat him up more. it's good for him. also love how that could be construed as a ref to her G1 resistance force

CASUAL MIND READER SOUNDWAVE???????

Elita was perfect, no notes. i would not like her if i met her but i respect her so much. she really is better in every way and down to business. Best First indeed

so much cool implications and fascinating timeline confusion. 50 cycles since the Primes were slaughtered? the way Sentinel leveraged their reputation to make himself beloved, casting himself as their peer? the way he didn't choose to villainize them, the way he apparently openly admitted to the loss of the Matrix and how it impacted the planet? when did cog theft start, and how old is Orion since in the novelization it states his entire generation is cogless? who remembers the og Primes? who is in the know about it all?? hoooghhghhh fascinating.

the implication that the High Guard worked with the og Primes?? the possibility STARSCREAM was a loyal guard for Cybertron's DEMIGODS????

okay i was not expecting a backstory for STARSCREAM'S VOICE in this movie but holy. god. the shippers will be going insane over this one. hoogh holy fit. what is wrong with you. the utter contradiction of being both an instigator and a coward when he gets in over his head and immediately backpedals

also obviously this is the I Love Divorce movie and megop shippers will be having a field day but i DEEPLY appreciate just how solid a friendship Dee and Orion have and how badly they fall apart, even thru a strictly platonic lens. i also appreciate how there was no forced comphet attraction/romance!! i was dreading the possibility of it, i mean Oplita was RIGHT THERE but they didn't force it at all thank youuuuuu. i would rather have this dynamic with its zero intended romance than awkward, OOC attraction shoehorned in to detract from the plot

Bee was actually good! like yeah he's def the kid appeal character and i prefer it when he's in a younger gen and not OP's peer, but he was wayyyyy less annoying than i was expecting! i think he fit the movie and did his job in it well, and i absolutely laughed at him multiple times. "i get to work for the GOVERNMENT! :DDDD" bee. please. the fact that he's been going insane and desperate after isolation for so long really helps make his character work instead of being just irritating

Airachnid you are so cool. you are TOO COOL. PLEASE TONE DOWN YOUR COOLNESS. i adore how she is not good at facial expressions thank you evil autism moments. love how her signature move is stabbystabbystabbystabbystabbystabby

Sentinel. god. Sentinel. SENTINEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i need to draw him getting ripped in half. it's like they distilled the worst parts of every single iteration and combined them into a SuperBad version. horrifically realistic kind of guy. i love to hate him. real Metro Man from Megamind energy. and megachurch pastor energy. the IRONY that Orion and Dee were probably actually helping him, that he was probably being genuine in the medbay when he said he loved what they did by racing, that he may have been honest when he said he was gonna have them fixed up in his own facilities and had them tour the mines! because them racing increased energon production by 150% and Sentinel needed that!!! he needed that for the Quintessons!!! i think he was being genuine when he first met Dee and Orion and then Darkwing ruined everything!!!

Darkwing is the curly straw of this continuity

the Quintessons were hoooooooooooooooo. whoooooooooogh. hoohhhhhhhhhhhh. the biomechanical. the shapes. the textures. eugh. icky. creepy. excellent. the way their ships looked like the Nemesis. the way they're STILL a looming threat. i wanted to see more of them but i get why the movie wasn't about them. i hope we see more in the future

the way Orion is the kind of guy who, in an attempt to be selfless, keeps making selfish or thoughtless decisions was SO INTERESTING. it set up the dynamic of his and Dee's friendship very well, with Orion always wanting the best for his buddy but ultimately overwriting or ignoring what Dee says!! the way Dee clings to the social contract of protocol for safety because that's all he knows and his ANGER when it's broken, even when it's Orion breaking it, because that's not SAFE it's an UNKNOWN it has CONSEQUENCES WHEN YOU DEVIATE. and then it's revealed that the social norms have been a lie the whole time and Sentinel has "broken protocol" more than ever and Dee has no safety left because it was always broken. Orion wanted to be more, he could feel there was more. Dee just wanted security

Dee spent so much of the movie complaining and arguing and it was very funny and good characterization but it was also a hint at how much bitterness was under there the whole time. so much of his complaints were threats of violence. he always had Orion's back and then when he learns the truth he abruptly. stops. do you notice he doesn't really have Orion's back after this? he's no longer by his side? he's there, but he's not... there. he was the first to shoot an enemy and took joy in it. all of his emotions were so justified and then what he does with them is what makes it a tragedy. he didn't have to do this. augh

i really, really like the fact that they managed to pull off the ending without it fully turning into a "boohoo if we do anything violent we're as bad as the bad guys waaaa". the specific phrasing of "rebuilding cannot start with an execution" went HARD. and it's demonstrated in their actions too like, Dee was out for REVENGE and it was PERSONAL, Orion was fighting for JUSTICE and it was UNIVERSAL. Sentinel was beaten, everyone knew the truth. it was over. but Dee in his (very justified!) anger and broken trust was too overcome to back down. they were given the power to change their worlds, but Dee was thinking only of his world. Orion was thinking of everyone

ironic that as soon as Orion starts thinking of other people and considering what they need instead of forging ahead, Dee decides to center his own feelings and actions to the point of murder. even after Sentinel was dead, he just kept shooting, he did NOT AT ALL care that some of those shots were clearly hurting innocent civilians/going wide and shooting out into the city/damaging actual important infrastructure and not just Sentinel statues. i believe it's Bee who said "he's gonna kill everyone" and he proves it by attacking Elita and saying "I won't stop until every last one of his followers is dead". THE FACT THAT HE FELL SO FAR AS TO SEE ELITA, HIS PEER AND FELLOW FREEDOM FIGHTER WHO WAS THERE WORKING AGAINST SENTINEL WITH HIM FROM THE START OF THIS QUEST, AS ONE OF SENTINEL'S FOLLOWERS.... by the end of it, Dee really was nothing but blind anger

and the way kneeling was a common thread!!!!! aaaaaaa. Sentinel betrayed the world by kneeling to the enemy. Dee won respect by refusing to kneel. Orion gained followers by willingly kneeling to his peers. hooghh

Orion jumping and stumbling and falling this whole movie because he just THROWS himself into things because he BELIEVES in things, he's the one to take leaps of faith, to take that step out into the unknown! and Dee refusing to save him as one final nail in the coffin, so clearly feeling like Orion jumping in front of the blast was yet ANOTHER way Orion is forcing his hand, corralling him into doing something he thinks is best but did not consult him on, finally FINALLY saying NO and leaning in to the tragedy!! and in the exact same way Sentinel handcrafted his enemy in Dee, Dee has now handcrafted his enemy in Orion!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and now that Orion took that last leap of faith and fell, now is when he RISES. ONE SHALL FALL AND ONE SHALL RISE. god. it reminds me of Spiderverse, the way they use falling and rising

the way the tragedy is worse for how well everyone was working together.... for one shining moment, the miners and the High Guard, the rescue mission, it was going so well. they were doing it. they were winning. it didn't have to turn to slaughter. if there was to be an execution it should've been by trial, by the voice of the people, not Dee deciding for Cybertron as Sentinel decided what truth was. augh.

in an abruptly different note, the way they have characters move and fly is so cool. i love the jetpacks. i love how flight is not "flyer" exclusive. it's fascinating and i think really fitting for the general city of Iacon itself. all those towers going up and down

THE TRAINS!! THE MOVING ROADS!! HOW COOL IS THAT!! LOOK AT THAT WORLDBUILDING IM OBSESSED WITH THIS CYBERTRON HOOGH. this movie was VERY good at building a rich, functional world of detail and making it very alien in a way i want to chew on forever. the moving mountains and greebled energon mines. the living planet. the deer!!! ooghghh. PRIMUS LOOKS LIKE A STAR

i do like this Primus actually, yeah it was a deus ex machina but that's the POINT. Optimus himself is an act of god and his presence heralds miracles. Dee couldn't bring justice to Cybertron because justice is restoration. justice is healing what was hurt and doing right by the wronged. yes that often means consequences upon the perpetrator but that's NOT what Dee was doing, he wasn't even THINKING of anyone else!! would killing Sentinel get ppl out of the mines? would it restore their cogs? would it bring equality to a clearly oppressive society? like he LIVED this (cogless bots with limited options, the talk of tiers as if they are social castes you can be demoted from, lower city levels where ppl can be banished, etc) but it was Orion who ultimately addressed this. i'm sorry if it feels like insult to injury to rub his Primacy in your face, Megatron, but stealing a cog just like Sentinel and declaring the age of Primes over, when it was the age of Primes ending that made you cogless and oppressed in the first place, is only an extension of your trauma, anger, and violence, and is not solving the problem!

a cog stolen from him at birth! and then he steals it from Sentinel in symbolic revenge, stolen again, but even that wasn't Sentinel's, it was stolen too! the way he discards the cog from Onyx, willingly gifted to him, to continue the trend of desecrating the dead! man. MAN. the name he took, the cog he took, the symbol he took, all from his hero, the one he looked up to, the coolest Prime, and THEN DECLARED THE AGE OF PRIMES OVER

the gilded pompous showmanship of it all was so gross, the way Sentinel's face was everywhere, the way he had instant access to everyone in Iacon via announcements that took over the media. but this was clearly derived from the previous Primes!! we see their statues, we see their stately tower, and unless Sentinel had all that built in "mourning" (which is totally plausible imho) he was really just setting himself up as an inheritor of that hyperwealthy standard! we don't know anything about the rule of the og Primes beyond that they're favorably remembered and loved (possibly because of propaganda but i think it was also genuine) and that they may have been losing the Quint war (considering that info was from jerkwad supreme i find it suspect) but just by comparison to Sentinel i think they HAD to be better rulers. there weren't cogless bots forced to mine for 20 shifts in a row back then!!! Sentinel is stealing their aesthetic as if that gets him the same power and acclaim. he's trying to steal their legitimacy. he paints himself across the face of Iacon to hide the fact the planet itself went into a coma because of him. he has ALWAYS been rejected. i call him a megachurch pastor but really symbolically i could say he's a fallen angel, and his visual design really fits too

i'm coming back to the deus ex machina thing bc i know it may be considered weak in a plot construction sense but i want to engage with it as literal. like, there is a literal in-universe god in the machine. they know it. they worship it, at least a little bit. i would consider this story to be analogous to Prince of Egypt, in that the deific is a real and tangible character with impact on the plot, and not a meta excuse to save the day. Orion made his choice, and as a result Primus made HIS choice. it's not necessarily a happy ending but if even Megatron acknowledges that GOD mandated this guy to be a Prime and the planet itself responds by COMING BACK TO LIFE.... i keep thinking of it like a cityspeaker, how they're the ones who commune with Titans to know their needs and tell them what needs to be done. is a Prime just the cityspeaker of Cybertron, able to help it remain healthy and functional?

the divine right to rule is REAL on Cybertron. you can like it or not but you have to contend with that when discussing fair leadership, political accountability, and representation of the masses re: Cybertronian government and Primacy

god i'm still so obsessed with the Thirteen i need to see them better i need to look at them. i love them. insane. i really need to invest in a chewtoy

also i know it may be a throwaway line but i'm very curious why Primus had to transform and sacrifice himself to save the universe. Unicron, maybe???

also how did Alpha Trion narrate the archival stuff telling the fake story of how the Primes died and the Matrix was lost. did Sentinel get a deepfake of his voice?? is that part of how he made the transition to power?? AUGH THE DISRESPECT KEEPS COMPOUNDING

Alpha Trion. my blorbo. my old man. holding you so tight. like an ancient rescue dog. im gonna groom you and give you treats and buy the biggest plushest dog bed from costco for you

anyways

good movie, guys

[serendipitous-seven]

i can't wait to tell you, "i told ya'." | jungkook x f!reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is a successful realtor with a big house, a nice car, colorful dating life, and a spunky 7-year-old daughter to boot…he’s also your best friend who you used to be in love with. Of course, he was never made aware because you swear it’s all in the past…until it isn’t. But going on a cruise with Jungkook and his daughter whom you adore should be harmless. Absolutely nothing can go wrong…Right?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, crack, idiots [i say that with luv for my characters] word count: 17.2k  tags/warnings: a child [Mai] is present throughout the entire story, implication of absent birth mother, serial dater JK, so much pining, pg language, conversation about sleeping around/risking pregnancy, legal-aged drinking & getting drunk, hurtful words/heated argument, isolation, blurb about reader struggling to eat, Mai experiences anxiety [I promise she is okay], plethora of cheesy occurrences, much fluff & angst all because sowoozoo-muster-JK wrecked me

series mlist

this is a repost from my old blog, moon-write.

Thank you to the realest one, @hyungieyoongi, for not only wanting to beta-read this insanity for me when I initially enlisted her for help, but also for hyping me up while doing it. Her editing gave this story clarity ;; 

disclaimer: the portrayal of Jungkook in this story is purely fictional & does not reflect who he is in real life nor do I claim to believe it does. lastly, this story is not a part of my dad!bts series, a serendipitous life - singledad!jungkook is in its own universe.

a/n: GUYS. this story was purely created because I was under the influence of sowoozoo/muster JK back in 2021. I am so beyond excited to bring this back and share this cracked out fic again, I truly hope you all enjoy it and just have fun reading it.

“Mai, don’t be so dramatic,” you take the little girl’s hands into yours, dusting off the chalk from her palms, “look-see, it comes off!”

She beams up at you with a know-it-all smile before taking yellow chalk from the bucket and continuing her doodle on the concrete. You watch her as she makes a big circle, stopping to make sure it’s just right before looking at you once more.

“Can you make the lines?” She inquires with big eyes, you run your hand through her long hair and happily oblige; Mai stands and watches you, pressing her hand onto your shoulder; “daddy will like it!”

You chuckle, nodding, “your dad will love it.”

She kneels, taking blue chalk this time to draw clouds, a mixture of pastel colors in the shape of her handprint now adorning the sleeve of your shirt.

Adding butterflies to the chalk creation per Mai’s request, you hear the back gate open, and following is the sound of Mai’s jovial squeals. Quick to abandon the chalk, she runs into the doting arms of her father, Jungkook. Uncaring to her chalky hands, Jungkook sweeps Mai into a hug with no intention of letting go.

“Kiss,” he mutters to her as you walk over, dusting your hands off on your jeans. Mai presses her smaller palms onto his cheeks, squishing them in the process of giving him a quick peck.

“Oops,” she giggles, noticing the chalk she’s left on his cheeks.

“We made you a drawing,” Mai soon forgets, wiggling to move Jungkook forward. He smiles at you, following his daughter’s direction to the drawing. Mai, her eyes an exact mirror of her father’s, watches him as he takes it all in. 

Jungkook marvels at his little girl’s work; “thank you, babe,” he says, kissing Mai’s cheek who nods with pride, bunny teeth sticking out. She looks over at you, singing your praises for bringing the bucket of chalk as a surprise.

“I told you I’d bring a surprise if you got A’s and B’s, right?” You smile, winking at Mai.

Jungkook thanks you before telling Mai to run inside and wash up for dinner. You follow him to the patio table and take a seat, noting the exhaustion of another long day falling over him. He runs his hand over his face, closing his eyes for a moment before remembering his best friend is still there.

You offer him a pitiful smile, drawing him to roll his eyes and laugh, “what?”

You shake your head, “nothing.”

He straightens his gaze but even then, a hint of his sweet smile remains noticeable, “it’s never nothing.”

“But it really is this time. Besides,” you laugh, “am I never not worried about you and Mai?”

He just nods.

“You’re doing a great job Jungkook,” you pat his tattooed arm, “you are the light of her life.”

Jungkook looks back at the chalk drawing Mai doodled on the concrete, giggling to himself. Caught in his stupor and the innocence of his daughter, he comes to, looking at you; “these last seven years would have gone a lot differently if we didn’t have you though.”

-Seven years ago-

“It’s okay,” you try to soothe a newborn Mai but her shrill cries drown out your voice. You burn a trail around the living room as you pace, stealing glances at Jungkook who’s sat at the edge of his sofa. With clumps of his hair gathered between fisted palms, he’s never looked so defeated.

“Let’s try feeding her again,” you stand in front of him, hand reaching for the bottle next to him. Too caught in the frantic cry of his baby, he doesn’t hear you.

“Jungkook,” your tone is stern and you nudge his foot with yours, “come on, you can’t give up now, get it together.” A moment of hurt sweeps over his eyes when he looks up at you, but keeping your feet on firm ground, you push away the guilt that rushes you. 

You clear your throat, “her bottle Jungkook, please.”

He does as you say, his eyes wide as he looks at his daughter for the first time since you arrived. You press the rubber tip to Mai’s lips, allowing a drop of the warm formula to touch her lips, “I promise you’ll love it, Mai.” You try to joke though there is a hint of begging in your tone. 

Her cry breaks for a moment as the milk drips onto her tongue; “there you go,” laughter coats the nervous tremble in your voice this time.

You allow a couple more drops to fall onto her tongue until Mai’s cries ease into small whimpers. Her breathing staggers as she takes to the bottle, “see?” You can’t help but giggle. Looking at Jungkook, his eyes brimming with tears of frustration, he watches in shock while Mai drinks from the bottle as small puffs of air escape her nose.

“Use the rag on my shoulder to wipe her face, will you?” You ask him and he does just so, dabbing at Mai’s red cheeks, ridding her of her tears.

“I tried everything the last hour to get her to stop,” he whispers. You can see the disappointment in his eyes though he continues to marvel at the innocence wrapped in your arms. You watch as your best friend takes Mai’s foot in his hand, thoughtfully squeezing her toes before he moves his hand back to her head, rubbing her barely-there hair as far back as he can.

“Here,” you gesture for Jungkook to take his daughter and he steps back in fright. You chuckle, “you have to get used to holding her Kook, I won’t be here all the time.”

“Why?” He looks at you with all sincerity.

You shake your head, “she’ll be safe with you.”

He places the rag over his shoulder this time and holds his arms out. Mai fusses during the exchange and Jungkook shushes her in a gentle prive as he holds her against his chest; “just hold the bottle upright - yeah,” you say as you help to adjust her in his arms. 

He cradles his large hand behind her head while her tiny body rests along his arm. He stands straight as a pin, fear taking up most of his expression as he looks down on his feeding daughter.

“Is this the first time you’re holding her?” You ask.

He gives you a look that can only mean yes, “my mom has been staying with us, she left right before you came,” he shakes his head, embarrassed to admit, “I was too scared.”

A soft laugh escapes you, “well, how’s it feel now?”

“Still scary,” he says seriously, “but I never want to put her down again.”

You stand back, watching him take all of her in. A month ago your best friend had his life made - living a bachelor lifestyle his friends envied, had a stellar career as the most sought realtor, owner of a newly built home. He was a free man who could do whatever, whenever.

That was until one drunken decision in the past came back nine months later in the form of a newborn baby.

Swaying back and forth with a slight strain in his movement, Jungkook watches Mai’s drooping lids; “can I do this?” He asks in a dream-like state leaving you to wonder if he really wanted an answer. That is until he moves his eyes to look at you. 

You shrug with a pitied smile, “you love her, right?”

He frowns for a second, nodding without hesitation.

“Then you can do it, Jungkook.”

“I’d offer for you to stay for dinner but you probably have another date with what’s-his-name,” Jungkook closes the sliding glass door behind you two, sweeping Mai into his arms. The three of you make your way into the kitchen where he sets his daughter on the counter, inspecting her hands to make sure she’s cleaned them properly.

He playfully sniffs them before kissing her palms.

“For the thousandth time, his name is Mark, and no actually,” you laugh watching the two tease each other back and forth, Jungkook’s attention split between the two of you, “I don’t think that’s happening anymore.”

He stands upright, covering Mai’s ears which only sends her into a fit to hear the adult talk, too grown for her age. She fights to move her dad’s hands but to no avail.

“Bad kisser? I knew it,” he shakes his head while moving Mai’s from side to side. Belly laughs erupt from her small body as she begs for her dad to stop.

“Shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. He chuckles, removing his hands from Mai and kissing her forehead.

You sit at the end of the long dining table next to Mai, Jungkook at the head of the table as usual. He finishes reading Mai’s fortune before they look at you.

“Your turn!” Mai shouts, holding a single noodle between her trainer chopsticks.

The cookie crumbles between your fingers as you unroll the small strip of paper, clearing your throat; “an old love will come back to you.”

Jungkook dramatically ooh’s and Mai follows, her small lips shaped into a perfect circle. Victim to Mai’s purity you squeeze her nose, “who could that be?” You tease her.

“Not me,” she giggles, “maybe daddy, he’s old!”

You fall back into your chair, eyes brimming with tears as you hold onto your belly full of Chinese food, laughing at the expense of your best friend.

“Funny,” he tries not to laugh, stuffing the remains of his fortune cookie into his mouth.

Chirping crickets and a black sky surround Jungkook’s home. You listen to the sound echo up into the vaulted ceilings, looking out of the opened windows. Taken by the quiet that surrounds his place, you shut your eyes and bask in it until the sound of Jungkook’s feet shuffles down the hallway.

“I don’t know whose good side I am on,” he sighs with relief, grabbing his glass of wine on the way to the sofa, “but she falls asleep like that.” He snaps his fingers.

You smile, peeling your attention away from the window.

Now dressed in baggy clothes that swallow up his svelte build, Jungkook takes a generous sip from his glass before patting the space next to him, “so, what’s wrong with this guy?”

You stop on your way to the sofa, eyebrows raised with sarcasm, “let’s cut the attitude, yeah?”

He can’t help but laugh, moving his leg when you finally sit down, “joking,” he reassures you, “but I mean, this is the third guy you’ve rejected and I didn’t even get to meet him.”

You shrug, “like you really wanted to?” Quirking an eyebrow at him, Jungkook can’t seem to look at you, laughing into his wine glass; “who’s worse here? You’ve always had at least one thing to complain about every guy I’ve brought around.”

“The bean and I have a preliminary process when it comes to guys you date,” he shrugs, licking a stray drop of wine before it can drip onto his sweatpants.

“Yes because a seven year old has a lot to say about adults and dating,” you chuckle, pushing Jungkook’s shoulder, “anyway, you aren’t missing out on anything Kook - and besides, I don’t want to introduce people into your guys’ life until I’m sure about them this time.”

Jungkook’s playfulness dies off, the wine in his glass not as interesting as the sullen look forming on your face. He watches you, the way you bend forward, one side of your hair tucked behind your ear while you anxiously pick at your cuticles.

He nudges your knee with his so you can look at him, a reassuring smile awaiting you, “that last guy fooled us all, okay?”

You sigh as a way to say, ‘it’s forgotten…no big deal…whatever…’ but Jungkook knows it’s a stain you’ve struggled to rid of for a while; “he’s been out of my life for a long time and that’s all that matters,” you stiffen your upper lip.

“Mm, cheers to that,” he clicks his glass against your water bottle, “but seriously, can I ask you something?”

You brace yourself, nodding.

“Except for that trash bag, you always seem to find a flaw in every guy you date,” Jungkook stalls for a second, reading your temperament before continuing, “why?”

Your eyes crinkle, suddenly underneath a spotlight, “do I?”

Jungkook resorts to his scrunch-nosed laugh, “are you kidding?”

“Well, okay Mr. Dating-expert,” you cross one leg over the other taking on a new defense, “you don’t find enough flaws in the women lined up outside of your house every day - why?”

He nearly spat out his wine, setting the glass down with hands surrendered to the air, “false accusation, you know I don’t bring women back here because of Mai-”

“Okay okay, you’re right, I’m sorry,” you sit back.

He laughs, “but fair enough, I guess we both don’t have the best track record when it comes to dating.”

You stand up, pulling your bag over your shoulder, “I hate to agree since it concerns me too.”

Jungkook walks you to the front door, “I’m curious to find out who this ‘old love’ is,” you turn just as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You force a smile with squinted eyes, “do you know me at all, Jeon? I don’t believe in fortunes, remember?”

He gives you a quick hug, watching you walk the path to your car; “I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” he says from the door.

You wave him off, “yeah-yeah save the love spiel for another time, goodnight!”

On your drive home, absent in mind, you rake your fingers through your hair. The bright glow of the red traffic light casts over you when you come to a full stop. ‘An old love will come back to you.’ You snort at the thought; they are simply typed words on a piece of paper. It means nothing.

“You don’t believe in stupid fortunes,’” you sing into the void of your car.

But it still makes your stomach queasy. Heart palpitating in your chest while your palm becomes sweaty as you ring it around the steering wheel.

“Let’s not go back there…”

“Hello? What do you mean no big deal?” Nic’s voice is a clear call into the late night, earning herself a stern look from you. “Whisper please,” you hiss through your teeth, “Mai never sleeps well when Jungkook is away, it was hell getting her down tonight.”

Nic looks at you with wily eyes, spinning every which way you turn before she gets dizzy; “oh my god, stop for sec!”

In a huff to clean up Mai’s after-dinner doodle session - crayons strewn across the table and several drawings she made as gifts for her dad’s return from a work trip, you look at your friend with exasperation painted on your face, “it’s literally what I mean Nic.”

She blinks in rapid-fire, sitting down on the ottoman while you work around the dining room. “So I’m crazy, okay yeah. Because telling me that you’re in love with your best friend of a million years is totally normal.”

You shudder at how easily those words come out of Nic’s mouth while Jungkook’s daughter sleeps in your bed. Too young to understand anyway, you can’t help but want to protect Mai from this very sensitive information about her dad.

Nic rolls her eyes, “oh relax, she’s asleep now. I’m spiraling over here, okay?”

“Just, come on,” you hit the side of your leg with the cleaning rag, desperate to get your point across, “discretion, please? This is not information I want to be tossed around.”

“How long have you felt this way?” She watches you in your haste, cleaning every speck left on the table in an attempt to avoid the conversation. You’re steeped in regret for even mentioning it to Nic. It was a confession locked in the depths of Pandora's box. 

It just came out.

“I don’t know,” you groan, disappearing into the kitchen before returning with washed hands and deadpan eyes.

Nic twists around the ottoman to face you when you come around, plopping yourself on the sofa.

“That’s a lie,” she states the obvious.

The popcorn texture of your ceiling suddenly becomes interesting when you toss your head back. I need to get my ceilings smoothed. You think to yourself while Nic waits. She won’t back down.

“I remember the exact moment I fell in love with him,” you sigh, tossing your hands up only to bring them back down on the cushions. You sit upright and look at Nic, “but it’s futile to even detail that because it’s never going to happen.”

“Do you want it to? I mean really want it to? Because he has a kid…”

Eyebrows knit together, you both have to laugh at that.

“I mean, you know, getting with Jungkook means taking on a child - although worthy to mention, a kid who absolutely adores you-”

“Please, don’t make me hurt more,” you press the pads of your fingers over your shut eyes, “I can’t even fathom how much it would confuse her - and I won’t entertain this past today. I can’t.”

“You’ve obviously been holding onto this for a long time-”

“And it ends today. Jungkook is my best friend, I vowed to be here for him and Mai as his friend, that’s it.”

“Okay, and when he finds a suitable woman and falls in love with her, then what?”

You can’t help the sadness that overwhelms your entire chest, eyes piercing through Nic, “ouch.”

“I’m sorry,” she takes on a new look of pity, leaning forward, “but that’s the reality, isn’t it? If you aren’t willing to-”

“Willing to what Nic? Confess to Jungkook and ruin our friendship? Ruin my relationship with Mai?” You retort, smiling because this is just too ridiculous to even consider.

“How can you assume he doesn’t feel the same?” Nic rebuttals.

You shake your head, “it’s not happening.”

That was 2 years ago. A night you remember all too clearly but push away along with the feelings steaming inside of you - chewed up and swallowed only to return from time to time like a bad case of acid reflux.

You scoff at the fortune bouncing around in your head, “not happening.”

“What are we shopping for exactly?” Nic comes up next to you, raking through the neutral-toned tops with not much of a care about what she is seeing.

“Um,” you pick out two tank tops and hold them up against you waiting for her approval, “that cruise I’m going on next month - didn’t we talk about it?”

“Oh yeah, wait-who are you going with and why was I not invited?” She queries, noting the way you move swiftly toward the dressing rooms.

You chuckle, “I didn’t plan this trip, I was invited,” you shut the door to the changing room before Nic can follow you in. She leans against it, quirking an eyebrow, “cheeky,” she laughs, “who invited you?”

She listens to you mull over your choices, hearing your feet shuffle on the carpeted floor; “uh, Jungkook did.”

You are immediately met with silence, peeking at the bottom of the mirror where Nic’s feet reflect as she turns to face the door. “Come again? You failed to mention this romantic getaway would be with your best friend-” 

Opening the door, Nic nearly falls in when you catch her. You roll your eyes; “have you always been this dramatic?”

She shrugs, “one of us has to be-back to my question.”

“Not a romantic getaway, Mai is coming and-”

“Wh-like a family vacation-”

“Nic!” Your jaw sets and she shuts it quickly, “his parents are also going, okay?”

Your friend blinks in disbelief and you give her a look that wills away any sarcastic comment she has at the ready. 

You have to hand it to her, she’s a witty one; “besides it’s kind of a company cruise for him, all the employees are allowed to bring guests, okay?”

“Noted,” she purses her lips. 

The silence between purchasing your items and the walk to the car is thick with Nic’s wandering mind.

“Can you just answer one thing for me?” You’re already sighing before she can ask her question once at the car. Tossing your bags in the back before getting into the driver’s seat with Nic buckled up and raring to go; “have you worked through all of that - you know, your feelings?”

You nod, “for the most part.” Nic drops her forehead into her hands, kneading away at her temples and you have to laugh, “okay, yes I have, is that better Nicola?”

“If you weren’t such a bad liar, yeah it would be!” Nic tentatively shoves your shoulder, laughing with you, “how do you manage it because I sure as hell could not.”

You relax for a moment coming to a red light, “Mai is number one here, how she feels matters first-”

“That is very noble of you, but hello, you’re human and your feelings matter too,” Nic adds with pointed inflect, “and I can’t believe I’m saying this but Jungkook should know better, inviting you to family functions like the three of you are a family before he runs off with some random-”

“Nic,” you send a wavering look her way, “I don’t mind watching Mai when I have the time, I love her-she’s like-” you startle yourself, “I just love her, alright? I don’t mind it.”

Nic shakes her head when you turn away, your eyes set back on the road. An uneasy feeling settles inside of her, wondering how you’d managed to lie into believing all of that; “Look, you know I care about you. I know he does too I just think he’s a little blind and I’m just worried it’s hurting you-”

“I’m fine,” you practically sing.

“Okay, so you are now but it will hurt you eventually if you keep pretending like this,” Nic flattens her tone.

“I said I am fine,” you say with emphasis, “anyway, it’s Sunday which means dinner at their house-” you look at her knowing she has a smirk waiting for you. You both look at each other on instinct, eyes squinted at one another, “so I am inviting you to come with, okay?”

You both laugh; “yeah whatever, I’ll join your weird not-family-tradition for tonight.”

Sunday dinner with the Jeons proceeds as usual given the extra guest. Nic prides herself on where she can observe the oddities of your friendship with Jungkook and his daughter. Even she, sworn to never birth children herself, can’t help the fluttering of her ovaries as she watches the camaraderie built between you and Jungkook’s daughter. Mai teasingly stiffens her upper lip, shoving her face near yours while a goofy voice bellows out of her. You roll your eyes at her, laughing before attacking her sides with tickling fingers.

It’s a smile on Jungkook’s face that Nic hasn’t seen before. Spending many a night out with the two of you and friends, she’s used to the suave Jungkook she’s seen at clubs. The way he talks to women, motions for them, how he sticks his tongue out just enough for flirtatious emphasis when he’s curled up with one. His ego is seen clearly across the dance floor; Nic is sure her face is turning green at the very thought of it.

“Alright kiddo,” Jungkook stretches, “it’s late-”

“Dad,” Mai whines, clinging on to you. You hide your laugh, noting the way she tries to fight her sleepiness in front of him.

He shakes his head, “it’s a school night Mai- bathroom - brush your teeth, now.”

You can’t help but feel sorry for her, catching her pitiful stare that has so fittingly fallen on you, you chuckle, “come on, I’ll tuck you in afterward.”

With that little bit of incentive, Mai jumps off the couch, quick to slouch when she passes by her dad, meekly waving goodbye to Nic before she disappears down the hallway; “be right back,” you call to them, following Mai’s very sad trail into the darkness.

Nic sighs, eyes quick to find Jungkook, “so-” her smile flattens when he finally looks at her.

“So?” He adds, his eyes slit in wonder. Nic has always been the wild card with a fiery tongue.

She widens her grin, “I hear you and your family are going on a cruise.”

He just nods, smiling into his glass before taking a drink, “she’s coming too.”

“I mean that was implied-” Nic snorts, “that’s sweet.”

Jungkook chuckles, catching the sarcastic look in Nic’s eyes, “what are you on about?”

“Jeon Jungkook you are clue-”

“She was falling asleep while brushing her teeth,” you come out with a hushed laugh, “practically had to carry her into bed.”

Jungkook tears his eyes away from Nic, both friends staring at you before they force a laugh. You shrug it off, grabbing your things along with Nic’s who meets you at the door. Jungkook follows, his hands shoved inside of his pockets.

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Nic exaggerates her tone, accepting Jungkook’s hug before getting into the car.

You turn back to him with eyebrows raised and he shrugs.

“Okay, well I’m going to be pretty busy with work the next few weeks, they want overtime - god-” 

Jungkook laughs while you struggle to get your arm in the sleeve of your jacket; “the sleeve is twisted-here,’ he says, pulling it out and holding it straight for you.

“Thanks.”

“I guess we’ll see you at the ship then,” he says, playfully pushing you toward your car.

You gently kick his ankle, “night, Jeon.”

He smiles at you, bending forward to wave at Nic who offers him a short smile; “text me when you get home.”

As always, you wave to him without a second look.

“Did dad receive the confirmation for your parking spot,” Jungkook asks while swinging his keys around his pointer finger, leaving a house he just showed, “it has the information on where you’ll park your car at the port.” 

“He did and what about you, will you be doing the same?” Mrs. Jeon then asks about you, “how will she get there?”

He can’t help but giggle, his ever-curious mother always wondering about you, worrying that a small task may be a little too inconvenient for you, “you should pick her up really.”

Jungkook settles into his car, a playful eye roll following his mother’s assumptions, “already taken care of mom.”

“Good,” a sigh of relief can be heard on his end, “how is she anyway, we haven’t seen her since Mai’s little school performance.”

“Slow down, yeah?” Jungkook chuckles, “she’s busy too but good, I think anyway. She came over Sunday for dinner-”

“As usual,” Mrs. Jeon snickers to herself, “why don’t you bring her over here for dinner once in a while? I would like to see her too.”

“You really want that?” He arches an eyebrow.

Mrs. Jeon clicks her tongue, “yah, my son, you say that as if she hasn’t been an important part of my grandchild’s life. Of course, we want to see her but you say she’s always busy.”

“Oh,” he pouts, thinking it over, “well we have a whole week to catch up so you can make up for lost time then.”

“Mhm,” he could hear the smirk on his mom’s face, “she deserves a break Jungkook-ah, you know?”

Jungkook nods as if his mom could see him, “of course she does.”

“Between her work and then watching the baby, you keep her busy.”

Jungkook frowns, “yah mom, this is why Mai acts like a baby sometimes, she’s not a baby anymore, she’s turning eight-”

Mrs. Jeon clicks her tongue in protest again, “she’ll always be my grand-baby, and you - you’re forever my baby…”

He can’t help but smile this time, “yeah, I know. Anyway, you make it sound like I employ her or something, she comes in on her free time- whenever she pleases.”

“Ok ok,” his mother’s gentle laugh he can remember so clearly from childhood eases out of her, “I just worry she’ll think otherwise.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mom,” Jungkook sighs.

“Anyway, that’s what dad and I will be there for, yeah? To spend time with Mai and give you two some free time to do whatever-”

“And some family time with all of us, but I appreciate it, I’m sure we can squeeze in a childless night.”

Mrs. Jeon chuckles before ending the call, but not before one more reminder about inviting you over to dinner sometime soon.

Jungkook laughs to himself as he pulls into his driveway. Like clockwork, Mai’s school bus arrives at the corner. He steps out and waves to the bus driver when they drive off before Mai comes running down the sidewalk and into his arms.

“Hey, dad!” She wraps her arms around his neck, kissing the cheek he purposefully puffed out for her.

“You’re getting big, bean,” he groans, faking a backache after setting her down. He rests his hand atop her head, hanging her backpack for her before they trail into the kitchen.

“Your muscles aren’t so strong anymore then,” Mai quips, tossing a quick shoulder shrug her dad’s way when he turns back from the refrigerator to glare at her.

“Smart-alec,” he mutters, tossing a small tangerine at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at him, screeching when he makes a run for her. With several feet of height on his daughter, Jungkook snatches her in no time, throwing her over his shoulder, tattooed fingers tickling her sides.

Jovial screams and giggles leap out of the little girl until he tosses her on the sofa, her dark hair a wild mess and cheeks red, “not fair dad, you’re still bigger,” she pouts suddenly. Jungkook leans over the couch, laughing while swiping Mai’s hair out of her face, pinching her cheek in the process, “what do you want to eat for dinner, kid? Ordering in tonight.”

Mai jumps up in excitement, shouting your name.

He laughs, pulling his phone out to peruse a menu to order from, “not tonight- I have a work dinner, so you’ll be-”

“Not a babysitter-dad!” Mai whines, stomping her feet toward him, “I don’t want a babysitter, they aren’t fun.”

He shrugs, taking her chin in his hand and squeezing it, “sorry babe, she’s busy tonight.”

“Fine, whatever,” Mai turns in one swift motion and disappears into the den, homework in hand. 

Jungkook groans with a slight curl to his lip, “yah, whatever…” he says to himself, wondering when his 7-year-old became a teenager.

With aching feet and a dull throbbing in your head, you sit at the breakfast nook in silence, swallowed up in the pleasant darkness of your apartment.

“Is it time to retire yet?” You want to cry like a baby, be coddled like one, rocked to sleep. 

Just then a ding from your phone pulls you from your minute misery; a text message.

[Mark]: Okay, I’m going to level with you, should I stop trying? This is the third time in the last two weeks you’ve canceled our date…

You purse your lips, re-reading Mark’s message while the conversation you had with Jungkook weeks ago looms in the back of your mind.

‘Always something wrong with every guy you date…’

You shake your head; that’s not true. Mark is a very sweet guy. He is kind of introverted in a big group but alone, he’s all about you. He treats you well and as much as Jungkook wants to tease you about it - Mark is not a bad kisser.

But…

You sigh as you tap away at the keyboard.

[You]: I’m sorry Mark…as you can see, I’m not great at being forthcoming…or communicating.

[Mark]: no, what??

Haha come on I’m an adult, I can handle rejection :’)

You smile, warmed by Mark’s playful attitude.

[You]: Is it worse if I say that you are a great friend? Because you really are.

[Mark]: Oo yeah, that hurts a little but you’re good, I’ll find some way to get over you..

[You]: Don’t make it worse >< seriously Mark, you’ve been good to me these last few months, it’s nothing personal.

[Mark]: you deserve it and I’m sure the guy knows it already

Your eyes widen.

[You]: Sorry.. what are you talking about?

[Mark]: Come on I’m not stupid either haha every time we were together and that kid called or her dad, you dropped everything to talk to them. Rubbing salt in my wound here, but didn’t you leave our date once to be with her?

Oh, that guy.

[You]: Right…He’s my best friend…and his daughter I mean yeah, I would do anything for her. So I can’t apologize for that, but this is even more proof that you are a great guy!

[Mark]: hahaha, ok I got it, I have to say this is the least demoralizing way any woman has rejected me before

[You]: You’re welcome? Haha. Good night (:

It couldn’t have gone any better, the guilt over Mark that settled in your stomach was now gone, but you couldn’t figure out why it didn’t make you feel better.

Mark is smart but he was wrong. Well…maybe answering Mai’s phone call that one night, while you and Mark were making out on his couch, was a bit excessive? You cringe at the thought…

Peeling yourself from those memories and the barstool proves easier when your incentive is to no longer question what everyone around you seems to have common knowledge of. Pouring water into a steel pot, you set it on the stove to boil for some ramen.

Not long after your meal is done your phone rings with the Jeons’ home number flashing across the screen; “Bean?” You answer, knowing it’s Mai since Jungkook only calls you from his cell phone.

You are greeted with an exasperated huff before she whispers harshly into the phone, “why didn’t you come watch me tonight?”

Choosing to eat straight from the pot because it was one of those days, you bring it into the living room, a grimace on your face, “my sincerest apologies kid. I told your dad I’d be busy with work since we’re all going on vacation soon.”

“Oh, well, I don’t like this babysitter, she treats me like a little kid,” you almost choke on your first bite of noodles, stifling a laugh at Mai’s dispense.

“Okay one - you are a kid and two - be nice, three - where is your dad?”

Mai scoffs with gusto into the phone, “work dinner,” she exasperates, “dad thinks I’m a dummy, I know he’s on a date.”

Your heart drops and with it goes your appetite, setting the half-eaten food down on your coffee table. You move the phone away for a moment, allowing yourself a second to let out a long breath before continuing, “how do you know that, you know your dad is a busy guy, he goes on plenty of work dinners.”

“Hm- again I’m smart, dad says he is going on company dinners when it’s actually with work people,” Mai’s tone is flippant, “but when it’s a date? He calls them ‘work dinners.’”

“Oh right,” you curse yourself for having this adult conversation with a child, “duh.”

Mai laughs, “dad has been going on a lot of work dinners-”

You clam your eyes shut, “y-you know what bean, I’m sorry but I’m exhausted- are you in any immediate danger that requires me to come over there?

“No,” Mai sighs with obvious disappointment, “I guess not.”

Even with the unsettling of your heart, Mai always manages to melt you to your core, “you sure?”

“Dad would be mad if I made you come here, I’m okay, I just miss you I guess,” her voice suddenly drops, and the little kid is back. The innocence you love so much about her pulls you in.

“I miss you too,” you say, “but hey- the cruise is coming up soon, okay? You’ll have your grandparents, your dad-”

“And you, duh,” she adds.

You shake your head, chuckling, “and me.”

After talking her through her irritation and simply missing the two people that are her entire world, Mai hangs up a little more satisfied.

You? You call it an early night, ignoring the dreaded feeling hanging from your heartstrings.

You aren’t sure how to feel once you wake up on the first day of vacation. Having lost sleep over the last week while bitterly packing for the cruise, you thought up several ways you could have canceled before getting to this day. Picking up your phone on several occasions to text Jungkook only to picture Mai’s disappointment. She likely would have shed a tear or two at your expense.

Finally the night before, you swallowed back your pride and zipped up your packed suitcase which was now sitting in the back of Jungkook’s trunk with the rest of their things. He and Mai sang along to a song while you tapped your hand against your leg, unable to keep the smile away from your face for long.

Mrs. Jeon greets you eagerly after smothering Mai in kisses, taking the three of you ahead as you enter the ship.

“Home for the next week,” Jungkook comes up from behind and puts his arm around you, pressing his palm into Mai’s hair and messing with it while she tries to fight him off. You move away from him and walk towards the elevators, “shall we settle in our rooms?”

Mai is the first to react, running toward you and grabbing your hand in the process before the rest follow.

Once in the rooms with Jungkook’s parents only a few doors down from your suite, Mai pops in and out of the door connecting your room to theirs, “we can have sleepovers every night!” She cheers.

You shake your head, laughing at her excitement while still taking it all in yourself. Jungkook comes in from your balcony, pressing two fingers against Mai’s forehead when she goes throttling toward him, “relax monster,” he chuckles, “and not every night, okay?”

“Okay, but at least when you go on work dinners,” Mai peers passed Jungkook’s hip at you making a face too devilish for a child, “I can sleep in her room?”

You’re glad the bed is there to catch you when you sit back. Jungkook gently pushes her head back, laughing, “we’ll see.”

You have to swallow back that all too familiar sickness, “come on Kook, it’s vacation.” Mai leaps forward with a toothy smile, “yeah dad, vacation!” She shouts, wrapping her arms around Jungkook’s legs. 

You watch the two of them dance around your room, Mai standing on top of Jungkook’s feet while they tease each other; “duck feet,” Mai says, proceeding to quack at her father.

“Do you uh- you have to work while we’re here?” You ask Jungkook. He sticks his bottom lip out and shakes his head, “nope, just one brunch with a few colleagues but that’s it.”

You despise the relief that immediately washes over you.

Switching into vacation mode proves a lot easier than you anticipated, given the new information Mai shared with you during that one phone call. You hate to admit it to yourself, but seeing Jungkook stick around for the first couple of days provides relief for you that he is in fact, not going on any work dinners this trip.

Shut up shut up shut UP…

Your thoughts eat away at your brain while you sit poolside, taking a break from carrying Mai around on your shoulders like a mermaid - per her request. You were her throne and she, the mermaid princess of an undersea world, Jungkook the villainous merman out to seek her crown. After a victorious battle against said merman, you urge Mai to continue playing with her dad because being the throne is a weighty job.

Watching them is almost better.

Like a shooting star, a smile beams across your face, sitting back to hold yourself together, barking with laughter when Jungkook throws Mai into the air. A shriek of excitement falls out of her until she lands safely in a big splash.

Jungkook raptures you as you look over to find his head tossed back, perfect teeth showing as he laughs with every part of his being - eyes closed, the only visible part of his face is the utter joy he is feeling.

Your heart beats faster, cheeks grow hotter but not from the sun. Like the kind of gasp that escapes you during a jump scare in a horror movie, a memory locked so deep floods your head. You lower the brim of your hat to hide the immediate tears that flood your eyes, relieved to see Jungkook and Mai continue to chase each other around the pool, making waves while splashing one another.

It was a long day, Jungkook enlisted your help with a colicky baby Mai in need. You read up on as many articles as you could before heading over to their place, finding him in a panic though he was trying to repress it for the time being.

With much effort on both ends, Mai was finally asleep after hours of fussing. Jungkook, desperate for his daughter’s relief to the point of tears, you decided to leave them alone in his bedroom while you claimed a spot on the couch. 

Waking up hours later, the sun is long gone. You head to his bedroom to say goodbye.

The door is still open and you find Jungkook lying on his side with his back to you, instead of sleeping like you initially assumed, he is humming. One hand rests under his head while the other moves in an up-and-down motion. You stand on your tiptoes and see Mai is still asleep, laid out on her back with her limbs sticking out, you cover your mouth to stifle a chuckle.

She looks angelic - long eyelashes tickling the tops of her chubby cheeks, you can even hear her heavy breathing beyond Jungkook’s soft hum.

“Is it possible to be this in love?” His voice captures your ears but it’s a welcomed sound. You can’t see his face but you’re sure he’s near to tears for the second time that day. Pushing off of the wall, you walk to the edge of the bed. Jungkook’s eyes dart to you, dropping his head, silently laughing at himself.

You pat his ankle, a chummy smile covering your face only to tease him, “I’m heading home, will you two be okay?”

He looks back at Mai before nodding, “thank you,” he sighs before moving out of bed but you try to stop him, assuring him that you can make it to the door in one piece.

“When do I ever let you walk out alone?” He whispers, kissing Mai’s cheek before carefully moving off the bed. He follows you to the front door. When you turn to wish him and Mai a full night’s rest, he swallows you in a hug. You stand stiff for a moment, unable to recall if this was something that had ever occurred before. You weren’t the bear-hugging type of friend.

Even more, you can feel your heart thrum against Jungkook’s and suddenly it becomes natural as you melt into his hold. You wrap your arms around his middle to which he pulls you closer and tighter.

Eyes closed, the feeling of being in his arms is overwhelming and cheesy as it all feels, you have to will the tears away as a rush of feelings come flooding over you. Every over-thought you’d wondered up to this moment is answered.

‘Am I falling for him? No…wait.

Do I love my best friend?’

“We love you,” Jungkook says close to your ear, shaking you from your thoughts, but with them are the crackings of your heart, “I don’t say that enough,” he adds. He finally releases you and you have to pull yourself together in a second.

“Jungkook, I told you I’d be here for you and Mai- no question.” You manage to say, clearing your throat.

Walking away from his house that night, you know for you, it’s all changed.

A shrill cry of your name jolts you awake, cold water splashing your midriff. Your eyes focus back and on Mai who is now sitting on Jungkook’s shoulders, “let’s race,” she says. Without hesitance you jump in after them, pulling a giggling Mai into the pool with you who begs for mercy.

After a warm shower, sleep proves victor over the book Mai begged hands and knees for you to read, but by the time you washed up and changed into fresh pajamas, Mai’s face was planted into Jungkook’s pillow, hair splayed across the white pillowcase.

Jungkook hears you chuckle from his place on the balcony. Turning to look over his shoulder just as you kiss Mai’s head, a gentle flutter in his chest mimics the rocking of the ship.

“She’s going to need an entire week to recuperate after this trip,” you come out and sit on the bench with him, drawing your legs up and holding them to your chest. Jungkook’s silence makes you curious, but when you look over, the look on his face tells you why.

Brows are set straight with his arms crossed in front of his chest, you can see every thought that's running through his mind. Instead of pegging him with a question, you tap his leg with your foot. He takes a sharp breath in, laughing at himself when he looks at you.

“I was just thinking,” he groans, moving forward to rest his face in his hands. Your heart crawls out of your chest in search of a way to soothe your best friend, yet all the same, you just want to hold him.

“I was just thinking…” he sighs with a shrug, “back when I was twenty-one, convinced I was this big hotshot with a realtor’s license and brand new BMW,” he laughs in shame, “ah- then all of a sudden there’s a helpless baby who I had no time to prepare for.”

You remember that time with him; recalling the day Jungkook called you to his then apartment, voice too shaken to explain why he needed you there as he returned a missed call from the local hospital. Of course, your mind assumed he was diagnosed with some kind of illness. 

But with the call on speaker, you watched the color drain from his face as child protective services spoke to him on the other end. Words are thrown around like fireballs- ‘your name was put on the birth certificate by her birth mother Mr. Jeon…a DNA test has been ordered so we will need you to come down to the clinic to complete it. For now, the infant will be placed with our services upon release from the hospital.’

‘No,’ he was quick to respond, ‘no-don’t do that please, I’ll bring her home. Can-can I bring her home?’

“You didn’t need that test to prove what you already knew,” you add, watching the way your best friend runs his hands back and forth through his hair. 

He took the test anyway and it was of course confirmed that Mai was his; “when you called me over, I couldn’t imagine what they would say and that was definitely the farthest thing from my mind.”

“Wouldn’t change it for the world now that I know I’m a capable dad but-” his confidence drops and you sit forward, bending your head until you can see his face.

“But what?” You ask.

“Any chance at falling in love is out the window-” you can hear the guilt in his voice when he says that. He sits back and you follow, keeping your eyes on him. He chuckles with a crooked grin, “what?”

“Why do you do that? It doesn’t hurt you?”

He sighs, looking back at the water, “it’s easier, isn’t it? Sleeping around rather than risking a broken heart?”

“Jungkook, Mai’s mother-she was foolish for leaving you and even more for leaving Mai-I mean let’s not forget she, herself never even told you about your child in the first place-”

“Yeah but I’m still an idiot for even going there with her, I knew all she wanted was something casual and I gave it to her just so I could feel something.” He shakes his head.

“But one really good thing came out of that, right?” You push, taking your fingers and nudging his chin to force a smile on his face. 

He doesn’t argue, thinking of the little girl that is sound asleep inside.

A quiet hum settles inside of your chest drawing Jungkook to look at you. Your eyes set on the moonlight reflecting against the water; “I love your kid Jungkook.”

Just looking at your smile when you turn to face him, it’s a sight that nestles deep inside of his chest; “I already did before you even brought her home but I swear, my heart almost can’t take how much I love Mai.”

The gentle rock of the boat begins to lull you into sleep; chilly ocean air creates goosebumps over your skin as you fight your eyes rolling back, your breathing slows as a content hum comes out of you. Jungkook watches you for a moment, noticing the slight chatter in your teeth that pulls a giggle from him, “come here.”

Your heavy eyelids open to look at him, blinking inquisitively as he brings you closer to him. “I’m trying to warm you up,” he chuckles with another tug of your hand. He scoots down to rest his head along the sofa so you can lay your head comfortably on his shoulder; Jungkook’s body heat is all you need to fully accept his invitation.

“Just so you know,” he clears his throat, “because I know how my kid is,” Jungkook’s voice sounds like a subtle purr, “she loves you too.”

Caught in a haze of exhaustion and more emotion than your heart can handle, you nuzzle against Jungkook’s shoulder, willing yourself to fall asleep with those sentiments in mind. 

On the cusp of a deep sleep, you swear you feel Jungkook press his lips to the top of your head as he carries you off into the room.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re immediately aware this is not your bed though it isn’t entirely unfamiliar. Your heart launches in your throat as you sit up on your elbows, eyes pressed shut.

Okay now!

They pop open, your initial concern to find Jungkook lying there settles when you see Mai at your side. Her long raven hair strung across her face. 

A snore causes you to jump; awakened by his snore, Jungkook looks at you with one eye open, his body contorted to the size of the narrow cot meant for Mai. His feet dangling off the edge.

“You could have slept in my bed,” you snort.

He sits up, the sheet falling off to reveal his rippled chest and abs. You’ve seen his muscles several times, but the setting is far too intimate this time. You have to look away, pulling Mai’s hair off of her face. Jungkook stands and stretches, “it was nice falling asleep to you guys’ breathing- peaceful,” he says before disappearing into the bathroom.

The days go by too fast. Each one was filled with various activities tailored to Mai as she enjoyed the time with her grandparents. On several occasions, she couldn’t help but announce how happy she was to have her favorite people with her all at the same time.

Although, on the second to last night, you fail to ignore when Jungkook doesn’t return from that brunch as soon as he assured Mai he would, showing up early in the evening sans tie and a fresh mark on the side of his neck.

He comes lazily into your room after a shower, greeted by Mai with open arms, “where were you?” She asks, pressing her face into his side.

“I’m sorry.” His answer is short and hardly an answer. You turn away to hide your disappointment, closing the coloring book Mai was using and putting away her crayons; “your parents said you had unexpected business come up after brunch?” You ask.

He looks at you and nods.

Liar.

“But look bean,” he picks Mai up, conveniently placing her where she can’t point out the hickey, “you’re going to dinner alone with grandma and grandpa tonight, okay?” Mai throws her head back, “you’re abandoning me again?”

You can’t help but laugh, curiosity pushing away the heaviness in your chest, “wait, why?”

Jungkook looks at Mai, “cover your ears.”

“But-”

He curls an eyebrow at her and with a loud scoff, she does as he says.

“They want us to have a night out. We can go to the club downstairs - dancing and drinks?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You shake your head, laughing while your resolve not to give in slips away, “I have a dress that deserves to be seen, might as well.”

While Jungkook spends the last few hours of daylight with Mai, you don’t waste any time and get ready. It isn’t often you can pamper yourself like this; hair laid sleek against your back, taking time on your makeup to ensure its lasting quality because you plan to dance away the troubles of your heart.

Just as you buckle the other strap to your heel, there’s a knock at the main door of your room. You peer into Jungkook and Mai’s room through the connecting door which has remained open the majority of the trip, remembering he left just a few minutes before to drop Mai off at his parents’ room.

You open it without much thought, stumbling back when you come face to face with your best friend. He catches you by the wrist, chuckling.

His hair is combed with an effortless side part, thick bangs swept on either side of his forehead. His patterned buttoned-down stands out though the short sleeves allow his tattoos to be on display. White slacks and a new pair of shoes adorn his lower half while a touch of gold jewelry ties it all together. Pushing your figurative tongue back into your mouth, you offer a simple compliment before stepping out.

Going unnoticed is the way Jungkook’s eyes slink over your figure, selfishly detailing in his memory how your dress fits you in all the right places.

“Hurry up slowpoke,” you call to him, already halfway down the hallway. He looks at you, wondering if you’ve caught him staring. You choose to turn away before he can see the smirk on your face.

Music booms around you while a colorful group of people aged from 21 to 90 fills the space for a final night of hoorah as you settle at the bar. Your feet are already aching after Jungkook pulled you straight onto the dance floor when you initially arrived. Having clubbed with him on many occasions, you aren’t surprised by his rhythm and ease in gyrating his hips to the music. Perhaps a little closer to you than you are used to, but you’ll allow a pass tonight. And really, are you complaining?

No. But you choose to ignore that voice in your head.

Jungkook is looking around until he finds your eyes. You blink, clearing your throat, “I have a confession.” He scoots in closer so he can hear you better, eyes dropping to meet yours. Stirring in his seat, you wonder if he’s fidgeting out of discomfort.

Liquid courage pushes you to continue, “I broke into my minibar and had a little pre-game before you came,” you admit. Jungkook drops his head and laughs at you again. His eyes squint beneath a beaming smile, you practically choke at how beautiful he looks, “y-you might have to carry me back to my room later.” Your tongue suddenly feels numb as you stumble over your words.

He nods, “you deserve to let loose,” his expression takes on more sincerity, “you do so much for me and Mai.”

If not for the mood lighting flashing in various colors, you swear Jungkook’s face is flushed. His blinks are slow and you wonder when he’ll stop looking at you like that-

“Here you are.” The bartender barrages in with your drinks. You jump slightly while Jungkook thanks the man, a straight line forming his lips.

After two shots and another finished drink, Jungkook is ready to dance into the wee hours of the morning. Head caught in a constant loop after those shots, you insist he goes on his own. Just then a woman’s voice appears close to your ear, causing you to jump back. Jungkook looks to where you are with some sort of a smile appearing on his face but you can hardly make it out through a hazy gaze.

He’s saying your name and you make every effort to concentrate, “this is my colleague, Rosie.”

Rosie smiles at you but you notice more the way her hands are wrapped around Jungkook’s bicep and then the way she moves her hand to smooth across his shoulders, tucking her fingers beneath his collar.

Rosie from brunch. You smile, “nice to meet you.” You can’t help when your eyes ghost over the mark on Jungkook’s neck once more, the one you’ve had to pretend wasn’t there the entire night.

“Likewise,” she hardly spares you a second look before her eyes are glued to Jungkook’s, “let’s go dance.”

Jungkook sets his attention on you when you stand, making it a point to plant your feet firmly on the ground, “go, I need to use the restroom.”

Rosie wastes no time and pulls Jungkook away.

You groan, staring at yourself in the mirror, eyes weighed down with one too many drinks though you’re still able to stand on your own. That deserves a pat on the back along with your determination to not allow this night to go sour as you make your way out to the dance floor once more.

But it all comes to a screeching halt when you spot Rosie and Jungkook, even more, the way his lips hover dangerously close over the skin of her neck, his hand smoothing over her waist. Their bodies are pressed together as they dance with not an inch of breathing space to spare between the two.

You can’t help the fire that rages through you though tears sting your eyes. Before he can see, given he even looks up for one minute, you make a desperate escape towards the exit.

Stupid..so stupid. Stupid on a monumental level. What did you think was going to happen-he’d magically fall in love with you on this trip? Yes…NO.

You sniffle as you rub the heels of your feet, skin red from the pain inflicted by your choice of footwear. Even after a long shower, scrubbing the black makeup off your eyes that melted onto the bags that are now present - you can’t shake the aching in your chest.

“Ugh,” you groan, tossing yourself back onto your bed. Hair still sopping wet from your shower and dressed in your comfiest pajamas, nothing could soothe you at this point. Mind still swimming in a drunken state, you wish you could just black out already.

Click.

The door to Jungkook and Mai’s room closes. You shoot up into a sitting position once more, immediately regretting that. Jungkook peers in through that middle door, chuckling at you and a little less drunk than you. He always held his liquor better than you did.

That fire flickers in you once more, so slight but it causes you to twitch. You can’t un-notice it, even when you look away for a moment while he moves over to you. His hair is a mess, shirt hastily buttoned, and the collar is tinted pink, not to mention the faded lipstick marks around his jaw. He steps any closer to you and you could name the brand of perfume she was wearing.

“Club closed like two hours ago,” your words are still a bit slurred. Jungkook just chuckles, “yeah, I’m beat.” You shake your head while he moves back in the direction of his room.

“Old habits die hard,” you mutter venomously.

Jungkook cocks his head, taken aback, “what?”

You straighten your shoulders when he looks at you, “are you really going to risk putting yourself in this same situation again? Just for a one-night stand? Have you forgotten how Mai came into the picture?” The deep frown on your face is hardly enough to hide how you swallow back the gasp following your accusation. The dagger you’ve pierced him with digs into his back while a crushing pain swallows him whole, you can see the crumbling beneath your best friend’s eyes.

His cheeks grow red when he turns back towards the door, “go to sleep,” he mumbles in a tone that has the ground shaking, tossing his room key to the side, “you’re drunk.”

You flinch when he slams the door shut.

The swaying of the boat doesn’t help the unsettling waves in your stomach and throbbing head. Even with the new presence of another person on the balcony, your head remains cradled in your hands.

“Here,” Jungkook says in a low tone but it still makes your head throb. He reaches out to you with a water bottle in hand, “and take these.”

You peer up, the torturous rays of the sun hurt your eyes. You shake your head. Jungkook smacks his tongue in disapproval, taking up the bottom space of the lounging chair you're sitting on. He opens the bottle for you and brings it up to your lips, “stubbornness won’t make you feel better, drink.”

“Oh god, please don’t say that word,” you retch, taking a sip. Another second later Jungkook pops the two aspirin into your mouth, assisting you with another swig of water.

The rushing waves settle around you but the awkward silence can be cut with the dagger Jungkook was still holding onto. He sighs, looking away from the wooden deck of the balcony.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk before,” he says. The strained laughter that follows makes your chest grow hot along with the heaviness in his tone.

You feel his gaze fall over you and you finally look up at him, removing your sunglasses. He doesn’t tear his attention away from you, waiting to see if you’ll do anything, say anything.

“Do you remember-”

You’re nodding before he can finish his sentence, “I remember what I said.” You wish you didn’t, probably even more than Jungkook wishes he never heard it.

Jungkook sits there a little bit stunned, straightening his back and you can see the frown grow on his brow, “not that I owe you any explanation - I didn’t sleep with her, we just - I don’t know I just couldn’t-”

You question him with your eyes, “you’re right Jungkook, you don’t need to explain anything to me, we’re both adults.” You cut him off before it can hurt anymore, irritation lining your tone which Jungkook picks up on the latter. Somehow he still misses the longing behind your eyes.

“How about some leniency? I’m trying to be nice even though you insulted me last night-”

“You don’t have to be nice to me, I was out of line so let’s just drop it. I’m sorry for ever saying anything-”

“Will you let me care about you?” He snaps back. It catches you off guard, even when he’s been angry in the past, he’s never snapped at anybody. But the shock isn’t enough to stop you from feeling angry too.

“What are you talking-if this is you caring about me then please, spare me. I mean y-you came back to the room like nothing-” you groan out of frustration, swinging your legs over the lounge chair to stand up. The uneven weight nearly sends Jungkook to the ground but he manages to catch himself.

“Like nothing-what?” Jungkook follows you into your room.

“Nothing Jungkook, nothing happened, that’s what I mean. And you know what, nothing is ever going to happen,” you mutter, tossing clothes into your opened suitcase.

He grasps for the words falling from your mouth, managing to hear every last one, “what do you mean?”

You shake your head, “look let’s just give each other space, yeah? We only have today left so let me just do what you brought me here to do - let me do what I do best apparently.”

The riddled expression on his face only makes you grow more impatient for him to leave you alone; “that’s why I’m here right Jungkook - to take care of Mai while you rendezvous? I’m just a babysitter for Mai - that’s all I’ve ever been to you since she was born, right?”

His eyes grow cold while your words only chip away at him more and more, “you’re my best friend, I invited you to come because you’re like family-”

“Oh, just stop!” You twist pieces of your clothing between angry fists, “stop doing this to me-stop saying those things to me, stop cuddling with me like we’re-we-” you’re sputtering on the edge of stone-cold tears, “you just-you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Then tell me,” he urges you, “for God’s sake talk to me instead of pushing me away-”

“Jungkook, I love you,” you cry desperately, your body sinking, “I-I love you, and I can’t do it anymore.” You collapse onto the edge of your bed, praying the tears will go away so you can get a coherent thought out, shaking your head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jungkook.” You weep quietly.

All he can do is whisper your name to break the deafening silence.

“Just leave,” you look at him with red, tear-filled eyes, “please.”

“But we should talk-”

“I won’t do this anymore…I just can’t,” you can’t stop crying, “please leave.”

There isn’t anything more heart-breaking than when the door shuts behind your best friend, you are left alone to steep in the figurative mess left around you. A storm rages your mind while tear after tear continues to fall, even when you occupy yourself with stuffing everything into your suitcase. Some hours pass when you’re still in your room, suitcase packed. You can hear Mai enter their room, voice muffled behind the closed door she was so used to being open.

Follows is a stern call of her name from Jungkook just before the doorknob turns but abruptly stops along with your heart. You can hear her asking him why before you assume he pulls her away from the door.

You force your eyes shut, pressing your tear-stained face into your pillow and praying the last day on this god-awful ship will magically be over when you open your eyes again. Body exhausted from the emotional day, you feel yourself sink into darkness until all subconscious thought disappears.

It was a fight to get Mai to understand why you weren’t going home with them the next morning. You never lied to her. Not once in all of these years. Not until today when you told her it had to do with work, that was why. She slumped into her grandma’s hug before going over to the car per Jungkook’s request who was standing near you.

“Jungkook, I just want to go home and I already called an Uber so-”

He just nods but you can see the hurt in his eyes, “will you text me-us? Text us when you get home?”

You look down at your phone, “I-um- I need to go over to the waiting area where I’ll be picked up, thanks for inviting me.” With that, you’re turning away before he can even breathe a second time. Jungkook can’t tear his eyes away from you, watching you walk away, wanting to watch you until you're a speck in the distance.

“Mai is buckled in Jungkook-ah.” His dad calls him away before he can do any of that.

His thoughts spiral on the drive back home.

‘I can’t do this anymore…I won’t do this.’ Your words play like a broken movie reel in his mind. A sick feeling settles in Jungkook’s stomach; a strong taste of bile rises in his throat as he wonders if you mean it.

The days following begin to fuse into the next before you realize two weeks have gone by. Two weeks of missed phone calls from Jungkook but even more painful are the missed calls from their house phone.

Mai.

You have to hold your stomach every time you think of Mai. The innocent one caught between two adults she thinks the world of, the only two who are her entire world. It’s enough to make you want to lose all contents of your stomach which hasn’t been much lately. Getting by on a couple of sips from your morning tea and a bite or two of unbuttered sourdough bread before heading off to work.

Everything has lost its taste, life as you know it has lost flavor.

You always enjoyed work, as stressful as it could be at times. But it was becoming your mute therapist because you couldn’t talk about the things warring your mind. They just bottled inside of you, one after the other; when would it finally implode?  

Three knocks sound at your front door and you jump away from the counter, a small plate with a sad sandwich placed on top of it. You abandon it, you’re sure the bread is starting to mold anyway. Poking your head around the corner, your eyes are wide as they stare down the narrow hallway. The runner in the center of the floor is left askew, shoes tossed under the hallway table cluttered with your keys and three days of mail; everything is left unopened.

The doorbell screeches like a hungry crow; you yelp a curse before clamping your hand over your mouth. There’s no way he has the gull to show up at your house…

A muffled call of your name sounds on the other side of the door followed by rapid presses of the doorbell.

It’s Nic.

You sigh, moving down the hallway as quickly as you can before tearing the door open. Nic stands there with her arm up, her hand fisted ready to knock on the door, “well, hello stranger!” Her voice is laced with sarcasm and a toothy smile to boot. She’s already setting her things down on the small breakfast nook that separates the kitchen from the living room, she follows your every move until you’re standing on the opposite side of the counter, a waiting expression sits on her face.

“Wine?” She asks. You’re impressed when she pulls a long bottle out of her purse, something like Mary Poppins would do if she wasn’t so cheerful.

You shake your head, pushing the bottle back into her bag, “I’m cutting myself off forever.”

“Ah,” she nods knowingly and it’s confirmation enough that she is aware of the revelation that occurred on the cruise. You know he called her and asked her to check on you.

You lean onto the counter and Nic does the same after propping herself up on a barstool, “he sent you,” you state rather than ask. You know your best friends through and through. And beneath your broken pride and splitting heart, you can admit that they know you just the same.

Instead of a joke, she just purses her lips and offers you an apologetic smile, “he did.”

You shrug, resting your hand under your chin. The two of you continue in a stare-off that holds a thousand words between your shaking eyes and Nic’s patient ones. She doesn’t press you like you’re used to, but perhaps that’s because she can see the sheen across your eyes or the way you keep swallowing back the lump in your throat.

Nic, opinionated in all her ways and always managing to impose them on the ones she holds near and dear, bites her bottom lip when you close your eyes only for a few tears to fall shortly after.

She clears her throat, pressing a tissue into your hand while your head hangs low; “you should talk to him, babe.”

You’re shaking your head and Nic sighs, biting back her words until you pick your head up to look at her. 

She’s careful but direct; “So that’s it, you just cut him off? For how long are you planning on doing that - for forever?” Nic knows how ridiculous that sounds. Even more than when you swore you would take your once secret love for Jungkook to the grave.

“That’s the plan,” you croak, pressing the tissue over your eyes so it can soak up your tears.

“And Mai?” Nic retorts.

Your hands drop onto the counter along with your stomach; there’s no answer for that.

“Custody isn’t necessarily a thing between friends-”

“Nic,” you give her a stern look and she apologizes.

“Look, you don’t need me to say this because I know you, and I know how much you love Mai,” Nic’s tone sounds desperate for you to hear her, “but I’m going to say it anyway - I get seeing him and talking to him sounds incredibly painful, but are you really willing to lose that little girl’s trust? I mean anyone can see that she worships the ground you walk on,” Nic can’t help but chuckle but her seriousness never fades, “if you decide never to talk to them again, that-” Nic pushes her pointer finger onto the countertop, “that will be excruciating for her…” The second to pause allows you to feel the final crushing of your heart before Nic finishes.

“You can’t make this choice for her and not be in her life all of a sudden just because you want to run away from reality - Mai is just as much in this painful reality with you and Jungkook.”

You hate how right she is. You hate that Nic has taken every single word out of your mouth and made sense of it.

The sun is setting over the city as Jungkook continues to stare out the window of his office. It’s the end of a long workday. He’s tired after showing several houses from one end of the boulevard to the other. His feet hurt, his neck is aching, and he’s sick of wearing this stupid suit.

But he can’t think of anything else. He can’t think of anyone else. All he can think about is you. Sick with worry about his daughter who has no understanding of what’s happened. She’s asked to sleep with him every night for the past two weeks, it was the only thing that could soothe her anxiety. He wanted to be mad at you for cutting Mai off. Himself, he could understand, but Mai? Then again, he wondered how much he was to blame too. Did he unintentionally put his daughter in this spot? Going out with a different woman at least a few nights a week, asking you to babysit Mai every time? If he had just been honest from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.

He scoffs at himself, ripping his tie from around his neck and tossing it onto his desk. Of course, idiot, if you just confessed years ago, this wouldn’t be happening. Mai wouldn’t be experiencing her first heartbreak at seven years old. Selfishly, he wouldn’t have had to see the hurt that split you right down the middle when he waltzed in that night covered in another woman’s touch.

All the times you saw him that way.

Idiot. He has to laugh. Idiot doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Hi baby,” Jungkook sweeps Mai into his arms when he finally arrives home, relieving the babysitter. Mai rests her head on his shoulder, pressing the moles she can see on his face with her finger. He’s not used to her being so quiet. 

It’s late; way past her bedtime.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Mai sighs into his shoulder.

“I know,” he rubs her back, walking into her bedroom. Maybe she could manage it tonight. Mai doesn’t fight it, climbing under her comforter when Jungkook pulls it back for her. He sits on the floor next to her bed, knees curled up to his chest, he looks back at Mai whose eyes glisten under the glow of the starry night light, “guess we need to talk, huh?” She asks.

Jungkook chuckles, pinching her cheek, “shoot.”

Mai’s eyelashes flutter when she looks away, “she always has dinner with us on Sundays,” she starts, “is she mad at me?”

Jungkook is quick to settle her disquieting thoughts, “never in a million years bud, she could never be upset with you.”

“Then why isn’t she coming over to see me?” Mai isn’t crying, but her eyes look back at Jungkook and he can feel a tear in his heart when she does.

He sighs, holding Mai’s hand inside of his; “I hurt her feelings, so I think seeing you makes it hard for her because I’m always with you, right?”

Mai nods, “So say you’re sorry dad.”

He muffles a laugh, “it’s not that easy for adults sometimes.”

“Why? Don’t you miss her too?”

“I do,” he admits, “and I care a lot about her too.” Jungkook says, eying Mai, searching for the right words before he continues, “do you know what that means, bean?” He rests his chin on top of his hand, stroking her hair away from her face with the other. Mai observes her dad, hands pressed underneath her cheek.

“Grandma says when you care about people, it means you love them, so-” she twitches her nose inquisitively and Jungkook can’t help but giggle, leaning in to pinch it, “ask me questions,” he says, helping her out.

Mai yawns, not too far from sleep. But Jungkook can’t resist this time before bed, when his daughter is on the precipice of sweet slumber and they are alone, talking about whatever. Most of the time they are teasing each other, but if Mai has spent the day with you, Jungkook especially wanted to hear about it.

“I guess, does it mean you love her like you love me?” Mai asks.

The corner of his lips quirk into a smile, “I love you more than you can ever know-” he stops to catch the twinkle in his daughter’s eye, “but this love is a little bit different.”

Mai nods and follows with a big yawn. Jungkook leans in once more to kiss her forehead, “sleep tight.”

“I won’t let the bedbugs bite,” May yawns again.

Before Jungkook steps out of her room, Mai squeaks, “dad?”

“Yeah?” He turns in a heartbeat.

“I love her too, and well you know how the other kids at school-well most kids have their moms you know?”

He can feel the final shattering inside of him when he goes to rub his chest. Jungkook moves in, sitting next to Mai when she sits up, “I feel like I love her how a kid is supposed to love their mom-like she is the very best friend I will ever get to have, dad,” Mai looks up at him, “if she is mad at you, please make it better because I think we need her for forever.”

Tears brim the outside of Jungkook’s eyes, his smile trembling when he stares down at his literal heart in the shape of his child; “I love you so much,” he pulls her into his lap where Mai finds solace hiding her face in his shoulder.

“But my friend at school can never know that, it would hurt her feelings,” Mai muffles against him. Jungkook manages a gentle laugh, pressing a long kiss to the top of Mai’s head, his tears going unnoticed by his daughter.

The last time you received a call from Mai’s school was a year ago, she pushed a boy who tried to put a dead lizard on top of her head. He fell back and scraped his elbow. Mai was not about to let the school call her dad.

‘He won’t be as mad if you’re with me!’ She insisted, holding her hand in yours as the two of you crossed the street, a detention slip in her other hand.

Listed as the third emergency contact under her grandma, your stomach churns, wondering why they would be calling you. There is no question whether you would answer or not.

“Hello?” You breathe slowly into the phone.

The woman on the other end informs you she’s the principal; “Mai’s father and grandma haven’t returned our calls; the kids had an early release today but it appears they have forgotten to pick her up, and the buses have all gone.”

You frown, they never forget to pick Mai up from school. And if either one couldn’t, you were the next in line if she wasn’t going to take the bus; “oh-uh okay, I-um-I can be there in-” you look at the clock above your desk, ignoring the incomplete work before you, “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

You rush around the room to gather your things, darting for the door with your keys in hand.

By the time you’re walking up to the school Mai is running through the main doors, the principal right behind her smiling as Mai meets you halfway. She clings around your waist and it instantly causes your eyes to water, “hi bean.”

“I missed you,” she says, pulling herself off of you only to grab your hand. She pulls you with fervor to your car, barely giving you time to look back and wave at the principal.

Once settled in the car you turn towards the backseat and look at her with raised brows, “did they know you were getting out early?”

Mai purses her lips, eyes widening when she shrugs in response, quick to open a book to read when you start the car.

“Hm,” you turn around without much afterthought, making the drive back to their house. It’s been three weeks now, three weeks since that morning which you’ve tried desperately to forget, and three weeks since talking to Jungkook and Mai.

You aren’t sure what classifies as tension between an adult and a child, but the Mai who is usually speaking faster than she can keep up with has taken to staring out the window, staring at the buildings whizzing by and trees blending into the other. You look into the rearview mirror every so often, pretending you don’t know why she looks so indifferent.

Hugging you was a good sign, but now she seems awkward, dashing out of your car and beating you to the front door. You eye each other when you make it there. She gives you a sarcastic look, looking at your keys for a moment before you get the hint. You always had a set of keys to their house. It felt weird using them now.

Mai pushes the door open impatiently, the keys still in the lock with your hand attached to it, “hey-geez, slow down will you-no running-” you smack your tongue, setting your things down when Mai runs down the hallway to her bedroom.

Your chest fills with air as you take a glance around their home, singing praises that Jungkook’s car is not in the driveway meaning he must have been too busy to eat lunch at home.

“Mai,” your voice echoes down the hallway, “Mai you know shouldn’t be running in the house.”

She’s sitting at the small table her grandpa made for her, her homework already laid out and a pencil in hand. You watch her for a moment, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment of what you’ve said. But she just sits there, chin resting in her hand while she reads over the assignment.

You sigh, moving to sit on the floor next to her, looking over her paper to read the words but all you can see is the blank expression on Mai’s face. You poke her hand, “anybody in there?”

She moves her hand into her lap and starts writing.

You know why she’s doing this and you can’t be upset, but it does sting a little. Usually, it’s a fight to get her to do her homework when you’re around; “so you’re just going to ignore me? I thought you missed me.”

It’s only then that her eyes dart to meet yours, her eyes a mirrored reflection of her father’s. It’s always amazed you how they twinkle like stardust is floating around in them. You attempt a smile but it just falls when you notice how her eyes are glistening with tears.

“I missed you too bean-”

“Na-uh, I’m a kid but you don’t need to lie to me, I’m a tough kid.” She defends herself.

“Mai,” you sigh.

“If you missed me then you would have come to see me, but you didn’t for three whole weeks, so you’re just a liar,” Mai abandons her pencil and drops her face onto the table, creating a barrier around her head with her arms.

That cuts you deep.

A liar.

You sit there and listen to her sniffle before working up the courage to touch her arm, she flinches and you wait for her to pull away but it’s more surprising when she doesn’t.

“Bean, will you look at me please?” Your tone is soft as you rub her arm. She shakes her head.

“Please," is all you can say. You watch her chest heave when she complies a minute later, cheeks wet from her tears, she can hardly keep her eyes on you. You reach over and wipe her face with the back of your hand, squeezing her chin in the process. She bites back a smile.

“You lost a tooth!” You gasp, holding onto her chin and moving it down to reveal the new gap in her bottom teeth. She can’t help but perk up at you noticing, “it fell out when I bit into an apple,” she giggles. You laugh with her, watching her round cheeks glow pink; “Mai, I really have missed you.”

She moves her lips in a thinking manner, finally, you can breathe a little bit easier when her eyes find you, “I told dad you are my best friend. And usually best friends like to see each other, so,” she hums, scrounging around for her thoughts, “so you didn’t come over and I thought you just didn’t want me to be your friend anymore.”

You’re shaking your head, cursing at yourself, “that would never happen, not in a million lifetimes kid because you’re my best friend too.”

She understands but you can still see the questioning in her expression as she tries to piece it all together so it can make sense. You pull Mai closer to you until she is sitting right in front of you, her legs tucked underneath herself; “I am so sorry bean, for not talking to you and for not coming around-” you start but you wonder how to continue, looking around the room as if there is some viable answer written on the walls, “I was…angry about something and it hurt me really bad. So I thought being alone would make me feel better.”

Mai plays with your hands, perhaps not even noticing she is doing it, “did it?”

You have to chuckle at her, if only you had a measure of Mai’s honesty, you and Jungkook would not be in this current situation, “no, because I just ended up hurting the one person who means so much to me, the only one who has never hurt me back.”

Mai looks at you hopefully, “me?”

A smile beams across your face and you pull Mai into you until she is giggling, “yes you, silly.”

After a moment of light-heartedness, Mai settles back down, drawing circles into the shag rug, “dad said he hurt your feelings, so I guess this is all his fault.”

You hum, rubbing your hand over her hair, “well - no, I can’t put all the blame-”

“MAI?” The desperate yell for her name causes both of you to jump. Mai clamors to her feet, darting into her bathroom and slamming the door shut.

“What-Mai?” You’re launched into a panic, one over the fact that Mai’s face drained of any color at the sound of her dad’s gruff voice and second, it’s Jungkook’s voice.

Her name falls off of his tongue like rapid fire. Before you can say anything he tears into Mai’s bedroom and comes to a screeching halt at the sight of you. He’s breathless, staring at you. All you can manage is to gesture at the bathroom door, “she ran in there.” Just then Mrs. Jeon comes in behind her son, worried eyes finding relief upon seeing you, “oh thank God, please tell me Mai is here,” she sighs.

You nod, confused as ever, “her principal called me because it was an early day and nobody was there to pick her up…” You stop, realizing there was a major miscommunication and Mai was the culprit.

Jungkook’s eyes are fierce, eyebrows in a straight line when he moves in front of the bathroom door, hand rattling the doorknob which is now locked. He makes a fist ready to pound on it when his mom stops him, “you’ll just make it worse,” she speaks calmly, looking back at you. Her hands are trembling when she reaches out to you, you move forward and grab them.

You fumble with words, “She must’ve-”

“We’ve been looking everywhere for the last hour - since when did my kid start scheming - open this door Mai!” Jungkook starts again, his worry fuming out of him.

“Jungkook-ah, please,” Mrs. Jeon pleaded, pushing herself between the door and her son, “the important part is that she is safe…why don’t you go to the kitchen, get some water and just relax for a moment.”

“Mom-”

She shakes her head, “I will talk to her, now go.”

Hesitantly he drags his feet and leaves the room. Your stomach does flips when Mrs. Jeon settles her attention on you, hand resting on the doorknob of Mai’s bathroom.

Please, don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t-

“Will you keep an eye on him, please? I don’t know why but he’s been so worked up lately-” Mrs. Jeon shrugs, unsure of what else to say. You take a deep breath in, nodding as you march out of the room at a snail’s pace.

He’s bent at the waist, face pressed into his palms before he runs them back through his hair- it’s shorter now. He takes a deep breath that is promptly cut off when he sees you standing there, your hands resting on top of the granite countertop. Your fingers twitch with anxiety, palms feeling clammy as your heartbeat picks up again.

He finishes a glass of water, turning around to set it down in the sink. He doesn’t look back at you, resting his hands at the edge of the counter, “thanks for being there,” his voice is barely audible, “you-uh, you don’t have to stay-”

“I’m sorry.”

His shoulders tense, another breath is trapped in his throat at the sound of your voice. It rasps and shakes at the threat of new tears but you hold them back for as long as you can. You aren’t sure how long that will last.

“Jungkook?” You aren’t confident saying his name, unsure if he is seething because of Mai or if it’s really because of you.

He nods before turning around, looking at the top of your head before his gaze shakes over your eyes until he gives up, looking down at the floor.

“I don’t know-” you stop when you hear Mrs. Jeon come down the hallway, she stands next to you and rubs your back, a more relaxed smile on her face.

“She failed to let us know that it was an early day, says she forgot,” Mrs. Jeon shrugs. You and Jungkook look at each other knowing full well that Mai is the mastermind behind this very moment; “but she understands the severity of what she caused and is ready to apologize to you,” his mom looks from her son to you, “and you.”

Jungkook thanks her and walks her to the front door after she hugs you; “oh,” she calls to you gently, “come over for dinner soon? It’s like pulling teeth to get this boy to bring you over, we miss you.”

You just nod, smiling at her before Jungkook closes the door behind her. He rubs the back of his neck, reclaiming his spot across from you. The island provides a safe space between the two of you as you lean your weight against it.

“I’m sorry,” his tone is unsure but you can feel the guilt radiate from him, “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say that,” he sighs, “and so many other things.” He mutters the last part but you manage to hear it.

“I was hurt,” you swallow so hard that even he can hear it, “I’ve had so much pent up - for years…I just lost it.”

“We always talk about everything. I mean, d-don’t you think I would have wanted to know about something that important?” His words are desperate to be heard, steeped in weeks of constant questioning.

“You make it sound like confessing is so easy,” you can’t help the frown that appears, “the risk involved? Because telling you just so I can be rejected doesn’t mean just losing you,” your voice struggles, “I’ll lose Mai too and god, I can’t stomach that.”

He’s looking at you now, directly at you, blinking away what you can only assume are tears.

“I-I didn’t want to risk that so I held it in, I pushed it away until I believed that I didn’t love you anymore but,” you shake your head, “I realized it wasn’t going to go away even after every date you came home from. How I’ve had to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach when you traipse in after you’ve been with another woman, a woman that could never be me - will never be me. I was so mad that I couldn’t be jealous enough or hurt enough by that to stop loving you. I want to stop, but I can’t figure out how-” your words taper off when you notice a trace of a smile spreads across his lips. 

“Are you sm-smiling?” Your hands tremble and you’re ready to storm out of there.

He is smiling, it’s barely there but you can see it. 

“Can I say something?” His eyebrows lift as he looks at you with hopeful eyes.

You aren’t sure if you should be offended by the crooked smile on his face, the same one that melts your insides and makes your palms sweat. You just nod, ready to take on another offense.

“I love you too.” His voice is shaking. 

Everything stops. Your heart launches into your throat and you aren’t sure if you’re breathing anymore. You can feel your mouth fall open, you have to tell yourself to close it. Jungkook just waits.

The confident, suave Jungkook you know all too well is replaced by the loving human you have known even more. The man who masks his worth with fleeting escapades that never last past one night or a weekend at most.  

“What? What do you mean,” you stutter, your lungs feel like they are collapsing, “why are you telling me this now?”

Jungkook closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head, “I’m scared too.” He says, opening his eyes to look at you. 

He takes you in, the intensity of his stare enough to make you fall back, you can only hope there’s enough strength left in your legs to hold yourself up. Your stomach flips when he makes a step forward to which you take one back.

“You didn’t give me a chance to say anything when it all happened,” his feet move toward you again in one small step, “I wanted to tell you then but rightfully so, you were so upset. Then you were telling me to leave-”

“I didn’t-I-”

“You didn’t want me to reject you?” Jungkook fills in the blanks for you. You nod sheepishly, wringing your hand around your wrist.

The air stills when Jungkook’s fingertips graze your hand, “have I ever rejected you since we’ve known each other?”

Your mind races. Intentionally, no he hasn’t. As much as you dropped everything to be with Mai, Jungkook would do the same. When your car broke down on the freeway late one night? Jungkook was there before the tow truck, a sleeping Mai in the back seat of their car. When you didn’t get the promotion you worked tirelessly to earn? He was at your apartment to pick up the pieces, later that night you and Mai baked cookies together and ended that awful day with a movie - the three of you cuddled up on your couch.

Jungkook has always been there.

“God, all I’ve ever wanted is you,” Jungkook can’t stop himself long enough to allow you to stay in your thoughts. He can practically see your heart thumping out of your chest, he can feel your warm breath stagger out of your mouth. It isn’t until he decides to reach up and touch your neck with a ghostly touch does your breathing still. His touch is so slight it leaves goosebumps all over your skin. You swallow the lump in your throat when his hand grazes your jaw before he cups it around the side of your face. His fingers rub the shell of your ear.

“Do you still want me?” He fills the gap between you with careful steps; you can see the longing in his eyes and you wonder for how long you’ve missed that. With the little space left, it’s almost too difficult to look up at him; “Jungkook I-”

His breath stops at the sound of your voice like he’s ready for the ultimate rejection. His beating heart prepares for more pain.

“Yes,” You’re breathless. You only catch a second of the smile spreading his cheeks before he pulls you in. Muscular arms wrapping tightly around you but he’s careful to leave breathing room. All too naturally, your face nuzzles in his shoulder, breathing in his scent as your arms fold around his waist.

His nose presses into your hair, cheek warm against your temple.

“Wait,” you push your hands against his chest to create space. He grabs your hands to keep you close, “are you serious?”

He chuckles, nodding, his warm breath casts over your face, putting you deeper under his spell.

“After all of that happened, I didn’t think I had a chance. I didn’t think it could even be a possibility before,” his eyes look uncertain now, “you know too much about me,” he runs his fingers back through your hair, “but you are everything to me…you’ve loved Mai without me even asking you to,” he sighs, his expressions always more serious than most but it’s the Jungkook you know. Innocent eyes staring down at you, “watching you with Mai these last seven years has been the highlight of my life, but it was torturous too-”

You press your face into his chest, chuckling while tears overcome you, “torturous?”

Jungkook picks your chin up and kisses your tears away; “you were always in arm's reach but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, I just settled to silently love you.”

You shake your head, allowing Jungkook to wipe each tear away with his thumb.

“I was afraid it would confuse Mai. She’s my world too, you know?” You whisper.

“She’s too wise for her age,” he brushes his nose against yours, wearing the smile that exposes his bunny teeth, “trust me, she knows enough that we should be a family.” 

His eyes search for an answer in yours, you don’t have to ask for the question running through his mind when his gaze sweeps over your lips. The only thing that forces him to stop is when he chuckles low.

“What?” You smile, head floating in ecstasy, you think you could pass out.

“I guess that stupid fortune was true.”

You shake your head with a small smile. He fidgets, “I love you-” he manages to get out before your lips press against his. They are slightly chapped but so soft as they mold to yours. You can feel your skin growing hot when his tongue rubs against your bottom lip. It takes everything in you not to burst right then and there, fallen victim to his tender kiss.

“I love you,” you stop to say. His slight pout at the break in your kiss makes you chuckle.

Jungkook lets his chin rest against your shoulder when he pulls you in, the two of you staying that way for a little bit. If not for the quiet pad of Mai’s bare feet tapping down the hallway, he thinks he could have stayed that way with you all night.

His eyes brighten when he sees Mai stoke around the corner, saucer-sized eyes spying on the two of you.

“Come here bean,” Jungkook’s voice surprises you, and you pull away as Mai runs into the kitchen. Before you can say anything to her, she wraps her arms around your middle, nose pressed into your hip. She muffles something.

You sniffle, “I can’t understand you,” you giggle, grabbing her chin in a tender grip so she can look up at you. Her eyes are wet again, resting her chin against your stomach, “I said, I love you.” Mai whispers like her dad can’t hear her. Her cheeks grow red and she immediately shies away.

Jungkook rubs her back with a loving stroke when he hears your breath catch in your throat. You kneel and take Mai’s face in your hands, “I love you so much, bean.”

“Enough to stick around forever?” She laughs nervously, swallowing back a soft cry, “because it was horrible without you, dad doesn’t know how to build forts like you do.” Jungkook laughs, nudging Mai’s back with his knee.

There’s a gentle mending in your heart when she says that, you stroke her hair and laugh with glistening eyes, “I promise I’ll build forts with you until we’re both too big to fit in them, and even then kid, you can’t ever get rid of me.” You are struggling to hold back the ugliest of sobs.

Mai doesn’t answer, she only falls forward into your arms, nuzzling her face into your hair. Jungkook joins you, resting on his knees to wrap the two of you into his hold. 

You pull your face away enough so you can look at him. He kisses you before mouthing the words you’ve so yearned to hear him say; “I love you.”

[polarized-here]

POLAR I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR OCS AND SEE THEIR CONCEPT ART‼️ please I need food, I need to eat your art sjdhhsjdhsj /lh

GRAHH FINE SINCE YOU ASKED… my lore. Sorry this is so late gngahgahshsjsh… you literally caught me as dinner came home. Like. Oops… crazy… right after I knocked out shekhrkdbddmbd anyway! :)

Under the cut because it may or may not be a long thing, with most plot points just being little ideas—no fully fleshed story, just, erm. Ideas I like.

Update. It’s long. Also tumblr is so glitchy rn it kept making this saved post disappear and then reappear in my asks after I exited the app and opened it again what the fuck 😭😭

So, in this world, a majority of the population do. Not. Have powers, having them is seen as a blessing, But… It's a dystopian themed world—where these powers are incredibly monitored and regulated by the government—with some being minor, and some being full on changes to the physical body and how they manifest. (ie. My excuse for drawing anthros… or kemonomimi… shushhhh/also allows me to just dump all of my ocs which you may have seen before, in one little world and play with them like they’re my puppets :( I love them sm!! One of them sora is from DND they hold a special place in my heart...)

But again, having these powers is seen as a blessing from a God of some sort—and a curse, as while they’re regulated by the national government heavily, some individuals still manage to slip by, or cause harm to the general public, so from this, they (the gov) took advantage of this to instill a system of ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ there’s a few ‘vigilantes’ but most either become heroes (through turning themselves in and doing plenty of community service work, and discussing a contract with some government representatives—most who become heroes are never the same. They always have a look in their eyes, as if valor to help their nation has blinded them), but some may become villains.

Heroes are those who just have a license and have signed a contract with the government—most get these contracts renewed or take a small few month break in between contract renewals. They’re unable to use their powers in these circumstances, unless it’s out of self defense. Civilians can too (those not heroes, are regulated by the government heavily, and choose not to pursue it. But it’s like US NAVAL contracts too. you can join programs in the gov that give you supplemental access and benefits to college/pay it off, etc etc etc. like the national guard but more celebritized), but they (civilians) need to find a GOOD lawyer. There’s so many laws that heroes are naturally given a smalllllll pass over, that it’s just best to run away, or be a hero in that small instance.

(This has sm mha influence. As sad as it is, that show influenced me sm. Got me into trying art. Fr fr/on digital. PLA is just where it improved a weeee bit).

OKAYYY ENOUGH AGOUT THE SET UP!! THE CHARACTERS… I’m so sorry idk why I’m rambling this much, I’m not even hyperfixated on my own OCs. Like what the fuck.

Anyways! A key note is that having bright colored hair is a key identification that you probably have powers that haven’t manifested yet, and the hair is always a bright color, unless, you’re Astor!

He’s got so much trauma *slaps roof of car.* You can fit so much trauma in this one bad boy. And despite it all he remains a good person. Dawg. You have more strength then I’d ever have. But igggg the want and need to help people because you were hurt and want to make a change does seem motivation enough… anyways. They’re so marysue coreee

The main character & a small-time vigilante going to the new school that’s just been set up. His hair only really turns those bright colors when she’s using their powers—but in the ref it’s just for convenience sake. She has so many skeletons in her closet, that they can’t risk being caught. But they love helping people too much. They’re a bit altruistic.

Here’s their vigilante suit ref :)

For ease of mind, they always have a small bit of static on their hands—both to stun new people meeting them. To make the air feel charged with thunder and electricity—a warning to her presence, and because it means their hair stays that color. No matter the charge. His eyes stay the same color though. Again. These are some old doodles from last year of some characters. Notably, that I also revamped. Heroes, villains, and vigilantes stories always hold a special place in my heart,,,

Next up is Anzu! Silly goober!!! Please give him head pats!!!! He loves it!!! This is Astor’s only… real friend. Since Astor likes his solitude. But tolerates Anzu’s silly behavior. Utter dichotomy between them!!! <333 I haven’t decided if they’d get together or nah, but! <3333

Yeah, this guy (and Astor) both have autism (I didn’t even realize that him liking trains was an autistic stereotype… oops. Mb gang. But like. Seriously. Ywah didn’t mean anything by it. I’m autistic myself and I’m possibly pursuing physics or engineering 💪💪 I think it’s alr if I project onto a character I made 🔥🔥🙏)

Yes, he’s based on the irl dinosaur. Yes, he’s autistic, hear me out. I just put lots of things together. And he just ended up with major tism 🔥🙏

And finally, a hero I designed :) I changed her a weeee bit. But she’s mostly the same sand manipulation :) villains dislike her since she puts sand in their shoes. Her big container is full of sand and stuff. She doesn’t have a weakness other then she needs to be a bit concentrated on making her sand creations—but they’re like second nature to her because of how long she’s been a hero. She’s an antagonist only because she’s trying to take Nexus in. She sees how sweet she can be to the native cats (from a distance. Never touching them, and she never knows why, they look at the native cats, longing to pet them but always stops) so she wants to take him in and make a case for him to join the government’s hero program.

Arizona! But her hero name is Sahara yk… Yeagh…. Anyways :) I love her lots. She does mean well. But she’s also blindly faithful in the government, or will see its problems and will deflect or try to be better to make things right. But she always holds rules above anything else. Even if she cares about someone who’s breaking them, a lot, so yeah… totally not talking about the mentor and mentee relationship between her and Nexus… where she pushes her morals aside just to listen to him seldom talk about his intrepid interests.

If Nexus didn’t have those powers—in her opinion—she would’ve made an excellent leader in whatever field he’d want to pursue. And she knows he’s got something up with them—some history. And that breaks her heart a little seeing how much pure joy Nexus gets at being able to try new things, like new foods, or try out purely common things that should be normal to a kid like herself.

Very much love found families and going to the extreme for them :33

ANYWAYS!!! Those are the main 3. I have some others I’ll show. But yk. They look a wee bit different + have names labeling them and the key parts of them. I don’t think tumblr would like me dropping all their refs :,)

Actually :O hold on, their refs are here. Trust

I’m so smart for pasting them all here. Trust anyways. Those are my pookies, so sorry this took so long.. erm I like them a lot. Oh yeah, I made a comic with them for art class. Yeagh. They were mostly changed for ease of drawing but yeah. I did not want to do it but I had not wanted to do this 🚬🚬

But yeah, pookies…. Sorry you probably didn’t want this comprehensive lore about them grrr

[lanaevyssmoved]

NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW BETTER ❣️

tagged by @moonmothers @flymmcargo @kelemvorr @baldursgate2 !!!!!!! thank u so much.. u are all so sweet and thoughtful...

tagging @cetra @dandeyrain @princeofhags @mercymaker @lord-woolsley @hibernationsuit @alongtidesoflight @shadowcursedballs @tombtaker :D no pressure of course my friends! you may also consider this an invitation to talk to me more :3c

favorite color: wellow... ✨🍯🐝🌻💛⚡ i have loved yellow since i was very small my sister loved purple so everything she owned was purple and everything i owned was yellow.. and my room is still entirely yellow everything is YELLOW..... it just happens i gravitate

last song: uhhh spotify says i was last listening to last chapter in time, first chapter in eternity by VVN it absolutely fucks but bare in mind it might make you sad? tis music to make you feel and that shit always has different effects on people. OOP and spotify shuffle Just put on times change by umziky which is CUTE glitchpoppy stuff OH and spotify just put on higher by ia. which is vocaloid ur welcome.. this says how slow i am huh am i typing too much AND NOW ITS into the woods by phildel im making u a playlist

last movie: last movie i watched was godzilla king of the monsters with aisling teehee... every movie i've watched recently was with aisling... hehe.......

currently watching: WELL i was watching breaking bad but i burnt out around season 3 after i was binging it all day long and before that i binged all of desperate housewives all day long without any break so am i surprised i burnt out? no. also desperate housewives fucks

currently reading: uh i'm like always reading the six of crows by leigh bardugo i will open that book consume the Content and then close it whenever i feel like reading parts of it........ actually reading thru a full book currently no....not really but lets say crooked kingdom yeah

current obsession: mayhaps this question is pointless but i am deep in an autistic hyperfixation on bg3 which is showing no signs of dying down or stopping i will also say i am hyperfixating on gale himself and honestly my oc afhiri. and i think its safe to say illithids too i cannot stop myself from gobbling up information on them and i think about them just as much as the others ...........

sweet, savory, or spicy? i will sayy savoury!!!! i do like sweet but not as much . i am currently really obsessed with gravy..... not american gravy or whatever the bwi'ish kind.......... had to confirm that because i ain't got a fucking clue what american gravy is like . but i know its different!!!!!! due to my very english upbringing i never consumed spice ever in my life until i started to introduce it into my own diet a year ago and now i can eat things that say spicy just fine!! and they are very delicious. i really enjoy spicy noodles especially

currently working on: I HAVE TWO AFHIRI GALE FIC WIPS CURRENTLY ... :3c one of them is a cute domestic scene i'm writing through aislings influence and the other is a fat and large post game 3 years later fic that i cannot describe in any way than a psychological horror fic. :).....

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Oop- Theres 2 of them-

So Canon!Sirius (from the game) meets TLB!Sirius (From my MO: Astray AU + kinda my hella weird ver of him)

It was kinda strange to draw the actual Canon Sirius bcs im more used to drawing my version of him (who's literally a Trans Emo Femboi-)

Speaking of that. My ver of Sirius was always the way he is now. Infact, he was just... Sirius, but with a weird ahh haircut that later on may or may not have influenced the hair cut I gave him today. So that's today's fact.

(Edit: I forgot to put this in but the resaon why Canon's colors look uh... "weird".. is bcs i used a Wanderbots vid as reference for him BCS I DONT HAVE THE GAME ANYMORE-)

Who should I draw from MO: Astray next?

(Also sorry if this writing thing is shorter than normal, I'm kinda am a bit stressed atm + watching videos can make me a bit unable to write... so yeh...)

Credits

Character(s) belong to Rayark & Archpray. But the one on the right is my ver of the one on the left.

Art is mine.

Program: IbisPaint x

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

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Hello Mojo, hope you're doing well and that you had a good break! I wanted to signal boost the MDZS May Diaspora event collection on AO3, and point out my favorite fic from there: 归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home by dragongirlG! It's both tender and bittersweet and it features such mature writing. The author got some hate for it when it initially got posted so I wanted to counter that and give it some love instead! [Who would do such a thing?!  @dragongirlg-fics I’m sorry that happened to you, and here, have *so many hugs!* I’ll try to do a thing just for the diaspora event, but meanwhile, I’ll just treat this as a follower rec.]

归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home

by dragongirlG (M, 8k, wangxian)

Summary:  The destruction of the Yin Tiger Seal does not kill Wei Wuxian; it ages him instead. He takes shelter in a cave expecting to die, but instead he lives, slowly learning to embrace life with each new day.

Thirteen years later, a young man with a Lan forehead ribbon stumbles into the cave. His name is Lan Sizhui.

~*~

Hi Momjo!!! I recently read the most *adorable* fic, and I loved it so much that it dragged me out of seclusion (read: social anxiety cave) to rec it. It's called 'Covered in Bees' by ScarlettStorm in which the Cloud Recesses is an apiary, and Wei Wuxian has suddenly found himself host to a swarm of bees. ~ @akyra-talanoa

Covered in Bees

by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, wangxian)

Summary: “Cloud Reccesses Apiary,” says a toneless, deep masculine voice, with zero question in it. Wei Ying doesn’t care, because whoever possesses that voice is probably going to come save him from bees like a fucking hero while wearing like, a suit of armor. That’s what you wear to catch bees, right?

“I have like, so many bees outside my front door right now,” he says, mouth running out ahead of him before he can even begin to think about reining it in. “It’s like a sandstorm of bees out there. There are so many bees. I got out of my car and there were just bees and I don’t want these bees. Do you want these bees? Please tell me you will come get these bees. I can’t leave my house and I have enough food for maybe a week but then I’m gonna have to learn how to cook dry beans and no one wants that, especially not me.” Wei Ying runs out of air, takes a breath, and belatedly adds, “My name is Wei Ying. Hi.”

Or: The beekeeping AU that no one asked for.

~*~

Hi, you are a bless to this fandom. Your blog feels like a library, so thoroughly arranged and always within hand reach. [Thank you, wow!]  Recently, I was going through Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn is a Wēn tag and came across a fanfic, it has 3 chapters till now and is so intriguing that i thought to recommend it to you. I don't know if I can recommend or if you have already checked the story, The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon by Devipriya. I am in love with this story. I hope you will enjoy it too, do check it out

The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon

by Devipriya (T, 7k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wen Wuxian, the essence of who he is, he is a naughty child, a prankster, an enchanting dizi player, a graceful dancer, an irresistible lover, a truly valiant warrior, a ruthless vanquisher of his foes, a man who left a broken heart in every home, an astute statesman and kingmaker, a thorough gentleman, a righteous individual of the highest order, and the most colorful incarnation.

He has been seen, perceived, understood and experienced in many different ways by different people. Different people saw different facets of who he is. For some, he is God. For some, he is a crook. For some, he is a lover. For some, he is a fighter. He is so many things.

But the phoenix, seen from the eyes of time was just a playful man. A man who plays with his awareness, with his imagination, with his memory, with his life, with his death. An individual who does not just dance with somebody. He dances with life. He dances with his enemy, He dances with the one he loves, He dances even at the moment of his death.

To taste an essence of who is Wen Wuxian, be with me in the journey of exploration, NO! playful exploration of life of a playful man.

~*~

Hi! Thanks for running this blog, it's helped me find so many fics. For your next follower recs post, I wanted to rec "This love like a flood, a fire, a fear" by natcat5. Its summary is vague (which I suspect is why it isn't better known) but it is a beautiful retelling of canon from LWJ's POV with slight canon divergence. I love the author's characterization of him and the prose is gorgeous. It is easily my favorite fic in the entire fandom, and I don't say that lightly. ~ @nyanja14

This love like a flood, a fire, a fear

by natcat5 (M, 57k, wangxian, lan wangji & lan xichen)

Summary:  “I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything go wrong.”   - Lemony Snicket

~*~

i came to this ask to rec this baseball one called "Waiting for Spring" by thievinghippo on ao3. It somehow made me care about baseball soooo 'nough said ~ @scifikimmi

Waiting for Spring

by thievinghippo (E, 131, wangxian)

Summary:  “It is a well-known fact across the major leagues that one does not smack Lan Wangji’s ass.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. Everyone smacks everyone’s ass in baseball. It’s how the game is played. Lan Wangji does not get to be exempt from this most sacred of baseball traditions.

Wei Wuxian will make sure of that.

Or, a Major League Baseball AU

~*~

hi mojo! i wanted to rec Something Good by boxoftheskyking (a loose sound of music/canon divergence au) and also MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (immortal wangxian modern au where they gotta solve a mystery and save china, featuring jiang cheng/lan xichen)

Something Good

by boxoftheskyking (T, 43k, wangxian)

Summary:  "That Wei Wuxian, you know he used to be such a promising cultivator. Head Disciple of the Jiang Clan, can you believe it? You see, juniors, the punishment for traveling the path of demonic cultivation. No golden core, not so much as a whisper of spiritual power."

As a punishment for real and imagined crimes, Wei Wuxian is sentenced to work at Cloud Recesses as the lowest of servants. When a surprising reassignment lands him with eleven children to care for, everything changes again.

A Sound of Music AU

MDZS: The Golden Engine

by iffervescent (E, 82k, wangxian, xicheng)

Summary:  In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.

~*~

Hi Mojo! First of all let me just tell you that you are amazing and this blog is like a gift from the gods! Bless you and your endless patience and hard work. [Oh, thank you so much!]  I know that you have just accepted follower recs and I have missed miserably but I still wanted to write and bring attention to a writer by the pseudo Xiao_Hua on ao3, I think they are quite good and I just recently found the account with so much content. If you do have the time to check them out, I'd rec catfish, my fox or the red ribbon.

The Red Ribbon

by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, wangxian, TGCF crossover)

Summary:  Wei WuXian died but not before saving HanGuang-Jun and A-Yuan, leaving so much more behind than just his ribbon.

My Fox

by Xiao_Hua (E, 13k, wangxian)

Summary:  Once he headed to YiLing that all changed for him. His priorities have been mingled with and ordered in complete disarray even without him noticing as he was left heavily influenced by a creature.

Or one where Lan WangJi is a dragon-spirit and he finds his mate in the form of a fox.

Catfish

by Xiao_Hua (E, 15k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei WuXian has a common sense that believes it has a nine-to-five job while Lan WangJi finds that incredibly hot.

Or one where two catfish realise that neither of them truly catfished.

~*~

Hi Mojo i'm recommending this amazing fic it is called song of joys and regrets. it's a time travel AU it's amazing. And your Blog is a Godsend Thank you! [Aw, you’re so sweet!]  ~ @highgoddess

Song of Joy and Regrets

by HelloKitten (not rated, 59k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..." "Do they all involve him being bait?" "Yes" came deadpanned responses.

~*~

Here’s a 2021 Reverse Big Bang entry, in time for Father’s Day; [Oops, my bad, sorry!]  Under a Blanket of Black Wings, by ChaoticAndrogynous (#31398395); LWJ, recuperating from the 33 lashes, tells A-Yuan a series of fairytales about a heroic monster and the brave little boy he befriended. Vampire! WWX (in the framing story as well as the story-within-the-story); happy ending.

Under a Blanket of Black Wings

by ChaoticAndrogynous (T, 19k, wangxian)

Summary:  Lan Wangji tells A-Yuan a bedtime story about a beautiful monster and the brave little boy who was his friend. Thirteen years later, the monster returns.

~*~

Hello Mojo! Have you read ‘Key Differences’ by Pupeez4eva? Its a MDZS!WWX meets CQL!WWX and its really good! [It’s on my list!]

Key Differences

by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary:  “I don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian said, while his alternate self continued to stare at him with almost a look of hurt in his eyes. There was longing in there too, which Wei Wuxian would have easily recognised if he paid enough attention. “How could you not get together, after everything. What even went on in the Guanyin Temple if you didn’t confess?”

“The Guanyin Temple,” Wei Ying repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me if I confessed at — honestly, a lot went on that day. It was a life and death situation. There was no confessing.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, appalled.

(Wherein Wei Wuxian ends up meeting an alternate version of himself who, much to his horror, never married Lan Wangji. Obviously he has to do something to fix this).

~*~

Hey Mojo i would recommend this fanfic if you already haven’t, it’s called “ take me back to a time “ by DizziDreams. It’s sooooo good

take me back to a time

by DizziDreams (T, 144k, wangxian, 3zun)

Summary:  Wei Ying has a lot on his plate right now.

It’s finals week -- which isn’t so bad. He’s never had to study much to do well in classes. But that just means that things are that much more tense with Jiang Cheng, who, as far as Wei Ying can tell, only takes study breaks long enough to glare at Wei Ying where he sits on the couch playing video games.

It’s not studies that have Wei Ying stressed out. It’s everything else. It’s the recruitment for the research trial he’s coordinating. It’s jiejie and her impending marriage to His Royal Douchebag Jin Zixuan. It’s the volunteer work at the palliative care facility. It’s Wen Ning’s worsening condition. It’s Wen Qing working herself thin to care for her brother and Wen Yuan. It’s the way Wen Yuan never seems to have enough food.

So, yeah. There’s enough on Wei Ying’s plate already, meaning it’s not entirely welcome when he comes home and finds a man standing in his bedroom. A man in extravagant white robes, a ribbon tied around his forehead, long hair gathered into a topknot, fist clutching a sword at his side, who asks him, “Where am I?”

~*~

Idk if this has already been rec’d (I’ve been off the grid for a while now), but there’s this absolutely incredible fic called Restitution by an anon on ao3 people should definitely check out!

this one?

on restitution

by Anonymous (M, 78k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian, lan sizhui & wei wuxian, WIP)

Summary:  When Wei Wuxian regains consciousness, he is in a bed. A real, proper bed, not the slab he called a bed in his cave in the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng is glowering above him.

Wei Wuxian doesn't die during the siege of the Burial Mounds. Rather, he is captured in secret and confined at Lotus Pier. Things change accordingly.

~*~

Hi momjo! I feel like every time I come to your blog there's twenty more new and amazing fics for me to read. Thank you for everything you do for this fandom!  [Thank you, sweetie!  And yes, I think there ARE 20 new fics every day out there in the fandom.  It’s amazing!] Today I come bearing my own rec to you. I've recently read this and it's IMO one of the best fics out there. It's called Lapsteel by carriecmoney and it's a modern stormchaser AU featuring country songs and coming home. ~ @manaika-chan​

Lapsteel

by carriecmoney (T, 42k, wangxian)

Summary:  Now and then, I think about you now and then...

It's been thirteen years since Wei Ying ran for the prairies, leaving behind a family in shambles and a secret on the Pacific wind. What happens when the storm he swirled catches up to him?

Modern AU with country music star Lan Zhan, stormchaser Wei Ying, and shared crossroads.

~*~

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

do you think there is any significance that alex's colour scheme is green and pink? or do you think rr went "u know what this character needs? to look like a watermelon"

((Prefacing this by saying that I'm giving RR way too much credit here, but you shouldn't take anything an author does for granted— even a serial author who often makes blunders and mistakes.))

A while ago I saw a (pretty unfair) assumption that RR made it green and pink because blue and pink would be too obvious, but that his intention was obviously to reinforce the gender binary by using two distinctly gendered colors for a character with two distinct genders. Of course, they did not phrase it so delicately. No offense to whoever made that post, but I disagree.

Although that may have had to do with it, there's other things to consider. One of them is color symbolism. And oh. OH. I ADORE symbolism— especially flower/plant symbolism (Language of the Flowers and all that jazz), seasonal symbolism (there's a reason that evermore is my second favorite Taylor Swift album), and color symbolism.

GREEN

Let's talk about green first. Green can symbolize a lot of different things, and there are a few that can be applied to Alex's character. The most obvious thing that green often represents is jealousy— hence the expression "green with envy." But envy is not really one of Alex's character traits. Feel free to argue with me if you think that Alex is significantly envious. Just because I couldn't think of substantial textual evidence for it does not mean that there isn't any.

One of the traits that Alex does have is wealth. Green is the color of American currency, and since both RR and Alex are American, it's safe to take an American lens while looking at this color. Alex's socioeconomic background effects her in a big way. I mentioned in a previous post that I think that Alex's fatal flaw is her sense of entitlement. That kind of entitlement is a quality not exclusive to but common among the upper class. However, her distance from her wealthy background enhances the sense of irony in the story, which is a VERY big thing that we NEVER talk about within the fandom.

This is kind of a little thing, but it's worth noting that when it comes to Valhalla and everything, Alex is "green"— as in new and inexperienced.

The color green also emphasizes Alex's connection with nature. This is one of the parts of Alex's character that the fandom consistently underplays, which is an absolute shame. I don't think I have to explain why the color green is associated with all things natural. Alex's association with nature provides a few key things to her character:

It makes her a more well-rounded character. Another criticism of Alex I believe is totally unfounded is that "being genderfluid is her only personality trait because it influences her philosophy on pottery, which is her only hobby." I'm probably going to make another post in, like, a few minutes about why I find that argument a little silly, but the primary problem is that pottery is not Alex's only hobby. She also loves camping, hiking, and ice wall climbing (I bet y'all forgot about that last one!)

It gives her a connection with Magnus. I mentioned in a previous post that Magnus and Alex are foils, but I neglected to bring up why that also makes for very good chemistry between them. Of course, yes, they have different goals and philosophy, which is what makes them foils in the first place. But foil relationships function best when the characters also share some traits. As it turns out, Alex and Magnus share several hobbies, and one of them is a mutual love for nature. This is a very unexplored thing in fics. Start doing it more plz.

Finally, and this one's kind of minor, but the Alex's green gives her a connection to Natalie. I know, whenever Alex and Natalie are compared, either in canon or in fandom, everybody kind goes "eww. Oedipus complex." Which is very fair and true. But they really do have a lot of similarites. The green of Alex's hair and clothes connects her to the green of Natalie's eyes. It's worth saying, too, that Alex has one amber eye— and amber is pretty close to dirty blonde, like Natalie's hair.

If I had more faith in RR, I might bring up the concept of intextuality and how Alex wearing green is an allusion to The Great Gatsby and how Alex is elusive to Magnus, just like Daisy is to Gatsby. But I don't.

PINK

To give credit to the person who wrote the post I mentioned at the beginning of this spiel, I do believe that part of the reason pink was used was to support femininity. Please keep in mind that Alex dresses in an androgynous way— not that there is an actually "gendered" way to dress, since gender as we perceive it is mostly made up. But Alex's existence as a transfemme person (which I will maintain until my dying day) means that pink has a certain significance to her. A lot of AMAB people embrace traditionally feminine things because if they don't, they will not be accepted as genuine women or genuine nonbinary folks, since masculine dress is unisex and kind of the default. So Alex wearing pink probably had something to do with her gender, yes. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, and it's certainly not an unrealistic thing.

Speaking of Alex's gender in relation to the color pink, let's talk about pink's use as a queer rights symbol. Alex was RR's first character to be introduced as a queer character from the start. This was not an insignificant thing, especially in the year of our Lord 2016 (which, despite popular belief, seriously had an entirely different landscape of queer rep. Though it's commonplace now to include genderqueer characters, it was exceptional at the time— especially by such an accomplished and mainstream children's author.).

Let's go back in time to Nazi Germany. Some of you might know this, but for those of you don't this transition must seem jarring. I swear there's a point. In addition to Jews, Romani individuals, people with disabilities, and Poles (among others), gay men were victimized by the Nazis. If you're wondering why lesbians weren't persecuted, it's because the Nazis didn't see them as a serious political threat, or as a threat to the perpetuation of the Aryan race since they assumed gay women could be forcefully impregnated if need be. Yeah, ew. Anyway, much like the Star of David being used to mark Jewish people, gay men were forced into concentration camps and forced to wear a pink triangle. Years later, after the gay population somewhat recovered, the pink triangle was reclaimed and used as a symbol for gay men. Some people who were not gay men used it, too, but that's somewhat controversial since it wasn't their symbol to reclaim. When the first pride flag was created, it had a pink stripe at the top to signify sex (this was later dropped so flags could be more easily produced). The pink triangle (inverted) was used during the AIDs epidemic with the caption "Silence=Death."

My point is that this is a very important color to queer folks. Having one of the first genderfluid characters in kid's lit wear pink...... I mean, it makes sense.

The last and final thing that pink represents, in this context and in general, is innocence. Granted, this kind of connects to feminitity since women (especially white women) are often infantalized and seen as innocent— which is another issue. In any case, the use of pink to represent innocence in Alex's dress is ironic. Alex has been robbed of her childhood innocence, first by her abusive parents, then by her life on the streets, and then by her eventual death at age sixteen. But then she actually regains her innocence. At the beginning of the—

Hold on. I just had a revelation. I'll make a post about it soon.

At the beginning of SotD, Alex is acting a little childish. The most obvious example is him jumping on Randolph's bed to "make noise." Alex's life is stable and relatively healthy for the first time in the years, and she experiences something that a lot of queer folks experience: a re-emergence of childhood at a late stage.

I imagine you didn't expect a post this long. I either make essay responses to asks or I add on one sentence and post it. Oops. Anyway, I believe the mcga fandom can be more creative than calling Alex a watermelon. Here are some other (kinda romantic) pink-and-green alternatives:

Roses

Dragonfruit

Grapefruit

Cherry blossom trees

[purplehoodiesimon]

i was just gonna pick another butterfly to learn about, but then i was talking to sandi, who told me that in Finland, the first butterfly you see in spring represents what your year is going to look like (basically bright colors are good, dark colors are bad) and naturally this got me curious, so today's butterfly ask is all about superstition and mythology, which i figured you would enjoy. i'm very sorry if this ask is overwhelmingly long - i got a bit carried away. oops.

most commonly, butterflies are known for their connections with transformation, rebirth, death, good luck, and, in nearly every culture, the soul. this remains fairly consistent across different cultures, although some have other associations as well.

first up is the Irish belief that white butterflies are dead children's souls. in the 1600s, it was actually illegal to kill white butterflies because of this. similarly, in Germany, all butterflies are said to be dead children's souls, and in Japan, white butterflies are souls of any age.

black butterflies may mean an approaching death/recent death, a restless soul, an oncoming thunderstorm, or bad luck and curses. other death omens include seeing one at night, seeing three together, or having one land on your shoulder. killing the first butterfly you see won't kill you, but it is said to be bad luck.

in some Native American cultures, they believe that butterflies deliver prayers and wishes to the Great Spirit. if you set the butterfly free, your wish will be granted. in some Pueblo tribes, the legend is that the Creator felt sorry for the children, who were destined to grow weak and wrinkled, so he gathered beautiful colors from nature and put them in a magical bag. when the children opened the bag, butterflies flew out, more beautiful than the children had ever seen and with delightful songs. the songbirds, jealous of the butterflies, when to the Creator, who took away the butterflies' ability to sing, which is why they're beautiful but silent. the Blackfeet believe that butterflies deliver dreams, and would embroider a butterfly to tie into their child's hair at bedtime and sing a lullaby asking the butterflies to come and put the child to sleep. other tribes have different beliefs regarding the butterfly as well, but it is almost always a positive symbol.

my tarot deck has three cards with a butterfly on them: the six of wands, the eight of swords, and the two of pentacles. in the rider-waite deck, butterflies are found on the king and queen of swords. i don't have anything more for this, i just thought it was interesting.

some cultures see butterflies or specific types of butterflies as the spirits of their ancestors. these butterflies are to be treated with respect.

in both Irish and Mayan/Aztec mythology, butterflies are associated with fire. for the Irish, they had a connection to tiene-dhe'/dealan-dhe' (i'm not sure which is correct, sorry), the fire of the gods. in Mayan and Aztec mythology, butterflies represent Xiutecutli, the god of fire. also in Mayan and Aztec mythology, the goddess Iztpapalotl (rejuvenation by sacrifice) is referred to as the Obsidian Butterfly, and Quetzalcoatl is said to have come to earth in chrysalis form and then transformed into a butterfly.

both the Scots and the Russians believe that butterflies are witches in disguise, although the Russians say any butterfly, and the Scots say only red butterflies.

for sailors, seeing a yellow butterfly meant that they might die on their next voyage.

okay that's all i've got. i hope you're having a good day 💜🦋

Holy shit dude I am literally vibrating I love mythology. I especially love when superstitions and beliefs are similar like that across cultures, it really is an amazing part of humanity that we all separately (or non separately, influence happens) came up with these ideas across the world.

The only butterfly mythology I can contribute is that Psyche in Greek mythology was goddess of the soul and was often associated with butterflies and/or had butterfly wings.

Thank you so much Theo, I LOVE this and uh ironically there is something to do with butterflies and souls in my rough draft of chapter 3 and perhaps I will work some of this mythology stuff in 👀

[crashdevlin]

True or Manufactured- Valentine’s Drabble

Word Count- 1110 (little bit more than a drabble...oops)

Pairing- Geralt of Rivia x Reader

"She's lost her mind, Geralt! I've never seen her act like this. She's all...she...I can't even describe it. She's just insane and-"

"Stop talking." Geralt looked up from his ale and sighed as the bard took a breath. "Who?"

Jaskier sat across from him, slapping the table. "Y/n! She's not herself. She's all over Lord Skilde and she despises him! We've had long conversations about how vile and terrible and, honestly, ugly he is. She hates his overfed guts!"

Geralt tilted his head as he listened to Jaskier go on about Y/n in a sheer outfit, sitting on Skilde's lap in his great hall.

"Why should I care? She sounds happy," he responded once Jaskier calmed down a bit.

"He had to have done something to her! A-a spell or a potion or a genie wish! You have to help her!"

"I do?"

Jaskier looked shocked that Geralt wasn't grabbing his swords and running to Skilde's palace. "I'm not stupid, Geralt." The Witcher opened his mouth to debate that statement, but the bard continued. "I've seen how you look at her. You can't fool me. You don't want her to end up some disgusting lord's concubine."

Geralt rolled his eyes and stood. "If she's there by choice, I'm throttling you, Bard."

Jaskier followed Geralt out of the tavern, continuing to speak about Y/n and her new beau. "Last I saw her, she was practically chasing women away from Skilde's palace. She handed one beautiful working woman fifty crowns and told her that Skilde wasn't worth the degradation that she would have to endure if she went up there. She paid off a prostitute to keep Skilde from touching a woman, I don’t think she would--and of course, you want to say she did that to keep Skilde for herself and I can see why you may have that thought but I think we both know Y/n quite a bit better than that and she is not the kind--are you leaving me here?" he asked as Geralt climbed up onto Roach's saddle and settled.

The witcher didn't respond, riding away and leaving Jaskiet behind. The palace was a large one in the country, decked out in Redanian colors of white and red. Geralt could see the flags from the distance.

Having never met the man, he wasn't sure the temperament of him, but Geralt rode up to the gate anyway. "A witcher?"  the man at the gate asked.

"I'm here to see Y/n of Blaviken."

"What for?"

"She's a friend."

"Well, I don’t know how my lord would feel about me lettin' in a Witcher."

Geralt sighed and jumped down from his horse. He practically eclipsed the man. "I just need to talk to her. You should let me in."

The guard's fear was almost palpable as he nodded and stepped out of the way. Geralt walked Roach into the gate, tying her off at a post before heading into the great hall. His eyes fell on Y/n and he let out a soft grunt. Normally, she would be in thick leather armor, but not now. As he approached the large throne at the head of the room, Y/n didn’t even look at the white-haired mutant. Geralt tried to get her attention by calling her name, but it only caught the attention of the large man whose lap she was sitting on.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"I'm not talking to you." Geralt stepped closer, examining Y/n's face. "Y/n."

She finally turned to look at him. "Yes?"

Geralt grunted as he saw a sheen of pink over her pupils. "Jaskier was right. You are out of your mind."

"Excuse me?" she asked, but it didn't seem like she was really present.

"Now I'm talking to you," Geralt said, pointing at Skilde. "What did you give her?"

"What do you-"

"Don't lie. Don't deflect the question. She's under the influence of something. What is it?"

The man's jaw dropped but he didn’t answer.

"My lord Skilde is such a wonderful man, isn't he?" Y/n asked with a giggle.

Geralt sighed and grabbed her hand, pulling her off of Skilde's lap. "This isn't you," he said simply.

"Of course it is! I'm in love with my lord Skilde!"

"I'm taking her. If you want to try to stop us-"

"No!" Y/n put out her hand to weakly push away at Geralt. "I LOVE HIM!"

"No, you don't," he growled, pulling her closer. "You love me. You told me so three months ago and I told you it was a bad idea to get attached. Remember?"

"I don't even know you!" she shrieked.

Geralt turned a glare on Skilde. "You took her mind completely?"

"I-I didn’t. She-"

"What did you give her?" he demanded again.

"It was just a potion from my mage! I wanted that cunt to pay for how she treated me and-"

"Was it red or pink? Was the potion red or pink? And were there any words that you had to say?" Geralt demanded.

"Pink. No words."

"Puppet potion." Geralt turned to look down at Y/n. "Gotta shock her out of it," he whispered before leaning down to press a very soft kiss to her lips. "I love you too, Y/n."

She gasped against his lips, leaning back to look into the witcher's cat-like amber eyes. "Geralt?"

"Welcome back." His smile forced one from her before she looked around.

"Why are we--how did we--what are we doing here?"

Geralt simply pointed to the lord, then to her see-through outfit. "Puppet."

Y/n's eyes went wide with rage. "You bastard!" she screamed, moving to launch herself at the man, but Geralt kept his hand clasped around her upper arms.

"Last thing you need is the blood of a lord on your hands."

"But he-"

"Has never been worth your time, Y/n. Here." Geralt pulled his shirt off over his head and handed it to her. "Let's go. Dandelion is worried about you."

Geralt put his hand on her shoulder and walked her out of the palace, helping her up onto Roach. She held onto him as he rode out toward the city.

"Geralt?" Her voice was small from behind his back.

"Yeah?"

"Did you say you love me?"

He cleared his throat as they approached the outskirts. "Yes."

"Are we gonna talk about that?"

"If we must."

She giggled, much like she had at Skilde's. "We must! And I must hear it again!"

He chuckled. "I love you, Y/n. Now, let's get you something to wear and something to drink."

[olderthannetfic]

Escapade Vid - The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty

Here’s my writeup of my vid, crossposted from DW.

This is one of my two vid premieres for Escapade Con 2021. It spoils all of The Sleuth of The Ming Dynasty, specifically anything involving Wang Zhi. The discussion below is similarly spoilery.

I fell hard for The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, harder than for The Untamed or anything else for ages. (Okay, that's a lie, I fell that hard for Kingdom, but I don't ship anything there.) I knew I wanted to vid it for the con because it's so beautiful and because I knew a lot of people wouldn't be familiar with my favorite character via osmosis.

Sleuth is a historical mystery series (no magic/fantasy) based on a danmei novel. It has three leads: the two halves of the book ship and my fave. Facepalm.

I got into the series by knowing it was new-ish, some kind of buddy mystery series, and that fans liked it. That's it. I glanced at a poster, but I hadn't properly osmosed that there were three leads, not just two, so when Wang Zhi showed up, I naturally assumed he'd turn out to be a villain. His introduction is him driving a man to suicide. Practically the first thing we find out about him is that he's a palace eunuch with a high political position whom the politicians fear, look down on, and hate.

Could there be a more stereotypical villain for a historical drama?

So I went through a rapid progression from thinking he'd be the smiling pseudo-ally they have to defeat later to loving him and being like "They'd better not make him a villain!" to realizing I'd completely misosmosed this series.

I had a lot of feelings.

Picking a song / How I got into BTS:

Finding a vidsong for Sleuth was tricky. I had other vid ideas I could have made. I was tempted to make three vids, one for each lead (though not all for Escapade). I was tempted to make an OT3 pimping vid. My problem was that I also have had a lot of feelings about BTS this past year, and I knew I wanted to use them for an Escapade vid, but that presented a problem.

BTS… man… How to explain…

I grew up not really listening to music. My mom was a music teacher and only listened to Classical. When I eventually got into popular music, it was Enya and Alice Cooper. (Yes, syrupy Celtic crooning in various languages + shock rock is a pretty good summary of teenage me, why do you ask?) Also Cat Stevens, who was even more of the wrong generation for anyone else to care. The first time I really gave a shit about music was when I was living in NYC in my 20s absorbing the taste of someone with strong and specific music interests. I would by no means call myself knowledgeable about music.

A year ago, I tried to learn a little about BTS before Escapade so I could pick some shippy vid and stick it in the dance party. I want people to be able to go to the party and feel like they've got their finger on the pulse of fanfic-adjacent fandom even if they aren't into all of those fandoms themselves. I've never been into idol music, and it's not for lack of exposure: many successive waves of jpop and kpop idol-loving friends have tried, and I've been immune. It's the soppy ballads. I cannot. Some of the bouncy stuff is fun, but it wasn't enough.

Unfortunately for me, BTS is fucking confusing, so there was no easy 101. The only way to know anything about the fandom dynamics and which ships are popular was to know a lot. And once I'd bought in that far, I was up for some fic reading because huge RPF fandoms always have tons of AUs that are practically original fic, and hey, that sounded fun… I tried their reality shows a little bit, but my allergy to idol music is second only to my allergy to reality shows. I'm bad at getting things done if I don't sit down and commit properly, so I made myself a spreadsheet of all of their albums, guest appearances, and side projects and sat down to listen to the lot via Youtube…

They blew me away.

I didn't know. No one told me! I would never have predicted what they actually sounded like. It's not that they're good. Lots of idol groups are good. It's that they can rap. Korea has plenty of good rappers, but they're not in idol groups! I cannot properly convey the level of shock I experienced or even how and why BTS are so good. I like hip hop, but I don't know enough to describe anything properly.

When I made it to Hip Hop Lover, it all made sense. Imagine my reaction as a much more confused and incoherent version of this youtube video. Of course RM is into Talib Kweli and everyone else like that. Of course he's into conscious hip hop, a lot of it from NYC. Everything about their dense lyrics and their choice of subject matter made perfect sense after looking at their self-described list of influences. But in a way that Monq can articulate and I cannot.

I love shit that requires buy-in. All nerds do. I swear, hip hop is the nerdiest damn music there is because it's so into referencing its influences and responding very directly to other artists and to current culture, assuming the audience will keep up if it cares to. BTS know far more than I do about hip hop from here, plus they're Korean and like puns in a language I don't speak, so understanding what the actual fuck is going on in some of their songs is an adventure involving multiple youtube explainers. But they also have enough goofy dance music and rap that just sounds awesome to keep me interested even when I don't get it.

Daechwita dropped in May 2020, and holy shit, can we have a fandom just for that video? Historical architecture, hot dudes with swords, be still my beating heart. This is totally why I ended up watching Kingdom. I was dying to start learning some Korean, but then I got distracted by more Chinese media. Damnit. How do I choose?

So Escapade 2021 was rolling around, and I knew I wanted to make my Untamed vidbunny from last March, but I also wanted to vid Sleuth, and I wanted to vid it to BTS. I was now presented with my problem:

BTS is a 7-member group, and most songs prominently highlight 3-5 of them if not all 7. One might be able to do this as aspects of one character's personality, but it's very hard to make it work for a two- or three-person ship. I started looking at the rap line's songs, which have just the three of them, but even then, you're stuck saying that Character A is singer X and so on. How do I divide up the Sleuth leads? Do I make the angry one the angry one and the sunshine one the sunshine one? But the sunshine one is not the bookworm in BTS, unlike in Sleuth, and that just feels wrong!

That was when I decided to do a character vid rather than a ship one, to pick Wang Zhi, and to choose something off of one of the rap line's solo side projects. And what combination could be more obvious than tiny, angry, beautiful Yoongi paired with tiny, angry, beautiful Wang Zhi?

In the end, I did not pick Daechwita because, much as I love it, it has that kind of monotonous, hypnotic flow, and I feared I'd end up making a boring vid. I went back to Agust D's first mixtape, which is much angrier, and picked a song I felt had more obvious internal structure. I picked it mostly based on sound, as I always do. I needed vocals that I felt conveyed Wang Zhi's personality. Once I had a song in mind, I looked up the lyrics… And kept looking.

This would probably have been helped by not making the vid in like 3 days, mostly after the deadline because my other premiere dragged on way longer than I expected. Doh. Someone said that the vids were great this year because everyone had been stuck indoors with nothing else to do. I can assure you that I was my usual disaster self and was still trying to pick songs like a week before the deadline. There's always next year. Sigh.

So while vidding, I had a couple of okay but not great translations of the lyrics and at least one line I straight up did not understand. My process for all vids is to make a spreadsheet and put the lyrics down one side with clip ideas in another column. If the song isn't in English or isn't straightforward, I have other columns on the lyrics: original writing system, transliteration, translation, notes. I often have a column for song structure (verse 1, chorus, verse 2, chorus version A, chorus version B, etc.), or I might do that part by color coding chunks of the lyrics/translation. In this case, I had a lot of different columns of translation bits that moved around, and I also color coded column A based on whether there was a significant English language lyric. Here's a screencap of part of my planning spreadsheet with colors changing to show song section breaks and some clip concepts I was considering written in. (I usually end up abandoning most of my content notes once I get into actually editing a section.)

I finally found a good translation of it the morning after the vidshow. Sheesh. It wouldn't have radically affected how I vidded that part because the lyrics are so fast that you can't hit every little thing with a relevant clip and still have your audience visually parse anything at all. I still wish I'd had a better translation beforehand.

I foolishly thought it wouldn't be a problem vidding something in Korean, but it turns out I have such a hard time understanding Korean phonology that it's very hard for me to tell which bit is which even with a phonetic transcription. On top of that, most of the translations swap clause order for no good reason--"Your mother will be sad when you lose your last asset, health" instead of "When you lose your last asset, health, your mother will be sad"--despite both working perfectly well in English.

For the purposes of making the vid, I only needed to understand well enough to know how I was matching the lyrics or not, but for posting, I had to come up with something a little more polished. In the end, half before vidding and half after (oops), I have gone through with like 4 different translations, google translate, and an online Korean dictionary to cobble together something that I think is a fairly accurate translation, with clauses in the order they fall in the song, and some attempt at idiomaticness and correct tone and level of informality in English.

Lyrics translation:

The best of the translations I found in terms of being annotated and fairly easy to understand in English is this one by Muish.

Here's my version:

They call me new thang The new recruit is here: take my bags Whole world, concert Not bad, Asiana Asia You could be my new thang Different from the guys who neglect their duties Insubordination from a celebrity Damn, only the strong can fuck with me Some say I made it too easy Fuck you, I'm a thorn in the side of those guys So far from success Honestly, "SSaihanuwar" is embarrassing1 Now, we sell half a million copies a year The k-pop category Ain't big enough to hold me, whoo! Right, go ahead Try booking first class My seat is business You're economy, forever behind me kissing my ass Next goal is Billboard Brazil to New York My passport gets no rest A to the G to the U to the STD I'm d boy because I'm from D I'm crazy, a lunatic on a beat My rap will blow your mind with2 My tongue technology A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD I'll blow your mind with My tongue technology I hunt down those who copy the copiers. Get 'em down no matter who the fuck they are. Doesn't matter if I'm a jerk or if I'm wack or fake, I'm the one who carves history across the field. Among boring rappers, I get the lion's share. I'm about to take your bread. Bros' jealousy making all this noise. Hey ho I don't give a fuck Keep shoveling shit I'll bury you alive in the grave You dug yourself Hey ho you can't handle me You wasted rappers should be grateful I'm an idol Cause I'm busy, I'm busy, 24/7, what rest? Latecomers, go play amongst yourselves. Jealous and childish you wail, Yet you don't know shit.3 Paris to New York, damn My non-stop schedule A to the G to the U to the STD I'm d boy because I'm from D I'm crazy, a lunatic on a beat My rap will blow your mind with My tongue technology A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD I'll blow your mind with My tongue technology I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. I'm sorry I took your daily bread, boy. I'm sorry. Don't be mad. When you lose your only asset, health, Your mom's going to be upset. I'm sorry. Change careers. Amazing how you keep digging, So change, boy. I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. That your rapping sucks compared to mine. A to the G to the U to the STD I'm d boy because I'm from D I'm crazy, a lunatic on a beat My rap will blow your mind with My tongue technology A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD I'll blow your mind with My tongue technology A to the G to the U to the STD I'm d boy because I'm from D I'm crazy, a lunatic on a beat My rap will blow your mind with My tongue technology A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD A to the G to the U to the STD I'll blow your mind with My tongue technology

1. I straight up had no idea what the "SSaihanuwar" line is supposed to mean when I was making this vid. People said it was a pre-debut song, so I assumed he meant his skills had improved. What it actually refers to is that song bragging that they'd sold 30,000 copies, while as of this song, they were selling 500,000, so that childish bragging about a tiny past achievement is embarrassing now. Of course, as I type this, BTS sells like four million albums a year…

2. This is referencing a movie title, The Wailing, and then a famous line from the movie, which is said in dialect. I haven't seen the movie and nothing online explains the context in which "Important? You don't know what's important!" is used. If anybody's seen it, feel free to drop me a comment. Hopefully, it won't be something I'd radically change in the vid.

3. Literally 'take you to Hong Kong', which can be used like "blow your mind" in the regular sense, but is also used to mean "give you an orgasm", hence the italics on 'blow' above. Yes, it's an oral sex joke. Yes, he means it like that.

What the song means and what I did with it:

Okay, so now that we know the main lyric of this song is apparently "STD", what's it actually about?

Overall, this is a diss track. Like most BTS dis songs, the concept is: I may be an idol, but I'm still twice the man and twice the rapper you are.

I'm not the only one who was surprised to hear good rappers show up in an idol group: the underground rap scene that Suga comes out of thinks of idols as both inauthentic sellouts and as embarrassingly girly. They wear makeup and sparkly outfits. Laaaaaame.

This felt like an excellent parallel to the social position of eunuchs in The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty: Wang Zhi is one of the most competent and ruthless, yet loyal and honorable administrators we see in the entire series. If he were running the government, all of them would be better off. He's like that version of Lex Luthor or Emhyr var Emreis that astolat likes to write.

Throughout the series, politicians and generals see Wang Zhi as less than a man and thus not a worthy enemy or not worthy of his high position, but he's twice as worthy as any of them. He's not only better at being a ruthless badass, but he's better at keeping the body count low. Sure, he's introduced forcing a guy to commit suicide… But Wang Zhi promises him his family will be spared the same fate, where normally a traitor's entire family would be wiped out. The only reason things go poorly later is that the guy's son is too stupid to realize what a favor WZ did them.

Even Tang Fan is a complete asshole to him repeatedly. In this case, he doesn't treat WZ as lesser, but he's so naive and fixated on fluffy feelings that he assumes WZ is cold and cruel when he's pragmatic or that he has no feelings when he's clearly devastated but trying to fix the situation instead of breaking down about it. TF is the worst sort of idiot who values superficial virtue over practical results. It's a good thing he's so endearing!

There's this heartwarming bit at the end of the series about how WZ learned humanity from TF and SZ or something, but it's complete nonsense: him adopting child orphans and pretty much all of the rest of his behavior for the whole series was already merciful within the bounds of their society and the demands of his position.

On to my vidding process: I laid the song out on the timeline and put markers for the sections, color coded by what type of section they were and also made the spreadsheet seen above. That helped me see the structure of the vid. One of the first parts I tackled was the opening, which is long and slow and samples another song. It feels like it should have establishing shots, and it's long enough they could get boring. I realized it was an excellent opportunity to have some text on screen. I love typography, but I normally don't do it because there's no space in the song I've chosen, and I'm making the vid on the day of the deadline and have no time to think about fonts. Poking through all the confusingly-named Chinese fonts I have installed took as long as all the editing in this section.

I then had to figure out what to do with the chorus.

Yoongi's normal rapper name as part of BTS is 'Suga'. He's from Daegu and proud of it. So his solo rapper name is 'Agust D', which is 'DT Suga' backwards. A to the G to the U to the STD is just him repeating his own name. Aside from saying Agust D = Wang Zhi, I didn't have a lot of specific ideas here. Wang Zhi has a really hot mouth, but there isn't that much in canon that's an obvious oral sex joke.

I knew I didn't want to make the vid strictly a linear retelling of canon since the point was more conceptual. I also love the emotional impact of the Yang Fu stuff, both the times it's funny and the times it's upsetting for characters, but it's hard to communicate it in a vid without spending some time, so I decided to use the choruses entirely for Yang Fu. At the very end of the vid I had more story that needed to go somewhere and no more Yang Fu (and I wouldn't have ended on Yang Fu anyway), so I had to vary that pattern.

The final verse is a 2-part one that is slow and even more sneering than the rest of the song, so I picked WZ's most idiotic enemy for that. WZ literally took away his job by killing his father, which caused him to come home from the military and his brother to be fired from his job as an official. His mother is ill because of grief, and everyone keeps telling him to go look after his family instead of chasing WZ around and trying to start shit, so the lyrics are quite apt. This guy is just not up to WZ's weight class, and that's what this verse is about.

The first two verses required more thought. They have a 3-part structure and are fast. I looked for individual Wang Zhi plotlines that matched the specific lyrics of each section thematically. There are shittons of speed effects all over this vid for obvious reasons, but I still needed to pick footage that was naturally more dynamic. The show has a fair amount of talking heads, slow scenes, and cute and fluffy stuff that didn't fit the tone here, not to mention WZ being the least important of the three leads, so selecting the correct bits of WZ plot was essential.

I originally planned to use verse 1 for the horse market case, but there just isn't enough great footage to do the whole thing, so I did the first two thirds. Section 1 has military-sounding lyrics about a new recruit taking over from "hyungs" (older guys) who neglect their duties. This idol (a celebrity) is going to show the underground rappers how it's done. I had wanted to use the 'new thang' lyric with flashbacks to WZ first getting his position at the emperor's side, but that footage makes him look too meek and doesn't connect well to anything. 'You could be my new thang' I wanted for Jia Kui, but again, there isn't good footage that communicates their relationship visually.

The general from this arc has a similar thematic role: He's a ~real man~ who cares only about duty and is rude to the effete, useless official from the capital, while the other local powers fawn on him… Except Wang Zhi responds to this by being amused, showing up the others, and approving of General Chen. (By the end of the arc, Chen is all offended on his behalf that other dudes think he's merely a eunuch instead of a total hottie capable and honorable servant of the empire.) The first section is WZ on 'new thang' and Chen on 'my new thang'. This third ends with 'only the strong can fuck with me' as Chen joins the welcome feast. Out of all of the people in charge of border security, he's the only one who's strong.

The next third of the verse is about people thinking Suga got to his position too easily, which is also something basically every official feels about powerful eunuchs in Sleuth (and also in every single other historical drama with eunuchs because holy shit is this a common trope, and also in actual history, which is why). In this plotline, WZ is there to deal with the incompetent border guards and sort things out in ways they haven't been able to. He is certainly a thorn in their sides. For this part, I showed one of the obsequious officials smiling, WZ toasting them, and Chen being unamused.

This section finishes up with Suga saying his past bragging is embarrassing because he's so much more badass now, and k-pop isn't big enough for him (which I think is less about wanting to break out of kpop and more about definitions having to be readjusted to accommodate his awesomeness). The scenes from Sleuth are WZ suddenly revealing he speaks the local languages flawlessly--something no normal official from the capital does and that he's been hiding up till now as people insult him--and then WZ resolving the case with murder and smart political maneuvering that puts one of the local chieftains in his debt. The category of eunuch is certainly not enough to encompass Wang Zhi's political ambitions or abilities.

The final section of verse 1 is using a plane/flying metaphor to talk about Suga being ahead of everyone. It also has a particularly awesome lyric in English that I wanted to emphasize. This was the last part of the timeline I filled in, and I used a scene that is not one of the major enemies WZ cares about but where he is wonderfully bossy and in charge. The guy tries to pull rank on him, and he throws away his supposed police informant badge, being like I am the police.

The second verse has the really fast part in this song, so I wanted to show a lot of different cool shit WZ does. Section one is about Suga hunting down poseurs, whether they're new or long-established and powerful. Suga says he's going to take the other rappers' "rice bowl" (livelihood).  WZ similarly goes after all kinds of people, including very highly-placed politicians. The serial killer duke was supposedly untouchable, but WZ tells him he's an insect. He'll do the low-level dirty work (running around at night in ninja outfits) and the high level supervision (commanding men at the depot). The line ends by talking about other rappers' jealousy making noise. For this, I used Wang Zhi's trial where all of the politicians team up to wrongly accuse him of a laundry list of crimes.

The next line is about how Suga will bury other rappers alive in the grave they dug themselves, and they should be grateful he's an idol (because if he were a fellow underground rapper, they'd be shown up even worse). There's a suggestion in Suga's lyrics that part of the "wasting time" (digging/shoveling used as a metaphor) these other rappers have done is talking shit about him. They hurt their own reputations by doing it, and he had no desire to take them on until they forced the issue. I used WZ's introduction. That politician doomed himself by talking shit about the emperor's consort. Before he goes to meet with WZ, he talks shit about how eunuchs aren't actually powerful or scary to his drinking buddies. WZ spends the whole scene outlining how his downfall is his own damn fault.

The last section of the verse is about how busy Suga is. Losers should go bother each other, not him, because he has real shit to do. They have no idea what's important, unlike him. I opened with a quick shot of WZ's trial and then the silver case. WZ continually waves off concerns about the trial, even while he's in prison for a few days, because he's concerned about the actual problems occurring at the same time, namely that the entire government is about to go bankrupt and collapse. He's fending off assassins and getting people executed. Wan Tong's embarrassing attempt to mindfuck him in prison is laughable. They're just not on WZ's level.

I capped it off by showing the end of the plot and WZ winning. The three shots of his enemies looking upset are all from times he fucked with them earlier in the series. The final shot of him looking smug is from very early on when he'd just informed his chief rival, Shang Ming, about the suicide he caused in his intro. At the end of the vid, we're back at the beginning of the plot: Wang Zhi was always better. He would have worked with his rivals, but they just had to make it a contest. From the very beginning, they should have known they couldn't win.

The vid I’ve already posted to tumblr, but here’s the AO3 link again:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573175

[dracoqueen22]

For @ephdraws who requested two different prompts that I confused and wrote as one. Oops? It’s Robin/Death from my Apocalypse Nigh Universe and they are at the beach. Chaos ensues. Literally. 

Family Outings

“Exactly how long are we going to stay?” Death asks as he surveys the assortment of items he has helped Robin haul out here, along with the rest of Robin’s family. 

They have claimed a strip of the beach, and given the amount of accessories and number of people in their party, he’s also not surprised the other beachgoers have given them a wide berth. He counts no less than a half-dozen coolers, enough chairs for every member of the family, with umbrellas to match, a portable playpen for the toddler, and two rolling wagons overflowing with toys and floaties.

There’s even a tent, which Teddy and Kayla are in the process of wrestling into shape while their Mother oversees and their Father marks out the perfect location for the portable grill. 

“Oh, this? Well, we didn’t bring enough to camp overnight, so we’ll probably leave about nine, ten-ish,” Robin says as he spreads his towel over his beach chair and uses clips to keep the wind from blowing it away. 

He’s already stripped down to his swim shorts, which are rainbow-striped, tight-fitting, and leave very little to the imagination. They aren’t Speedos, according to Robin, but Teddy had snorted and said they might as well be. 

Death, by contrast, is wearing a very sensible pair of shorts that fall to his knees, and a long-sleeved water resistant shirt his sister had reassured him was meant for swimming. His contribution to the beach day trip had been to bring his own towel and a water bottle. 

Clearly, he hadn’t understood what Robin meant by “small trip to the beach, just for the day, it’s pretty casual, believe me, you’ll have fun!” 

This. 

This is not casual. 

“Esperance! Emmanuel! Get over here and get some sunscreen before you hit the water!” Robin’s mother hollers, her voice quite clear despite the noise of them apparently moving onto the beach for the day. 

“And make sure you get your floaties!” Teddy shouts before he curses and digs in the sand for something he must have dropped. “Robin, keep an eye on them, please,” he throws over his shoulder. 

Robin rolls his eyes, turns his head and shouts, “Opal! Watch the kids!” 

“I’m busy!” Opal, Robin’s sister barks. She’s perched in a beach chair, glasses on, sunhat on, umbrella pulled low, with a book in her lap. And as Death watches, she primly inserts a set of ear buds and proceeds to ignore her entire family. 

“So am I!” Robin shouts back before he smiles at Death and takes Death’s towel from his unresisting hands. “This is really your first time at the beach?” 

“I have been on beaches,” Death says as he watches Robin lay out the towel and pin it into place as well. “But not to enjoy them.” 

Robin rakes his hand through his hair. “What was it? Some kind of trash clean-up?” 

Death does his best not to think about June 6th, 1944. “Something like that,” he hedges and waves away the memories. “Your family likes to be prepared, I see.” 

“Yeah, that’s Mom’s influence.” Robin tugs Death over to his chair and urges him to sit. “She’s all about having contingency plans for her contingency plans.” His eyes narrow as he looks Death -- or Tristan for that matter -- up and down. “Dude, you are so pale. I’m going to have to slather you in sunscreen.” 

Death cannot burn, but Tristan should be protected. “I didn’t bring any unfortunately. It seems I am very ill-prepared for this.” 

“No sweat. I’ve got you covered.” Robin grabs the bag he’d tucked under his own chair and rifles through it, tossing out several random bottles, a book, a flattened sphere of rubber, three granola bars, and a spare pair of sandals. “Ah. Knew it was in here somewhere.” 

He emerges triumphant with a bottle of something labeled SPF 50. “Are you going to wear that shirt the whole time?” 

“I can’t swim in it?” Death asks. He thought he’d chosen an average, appealing shape, but he feels as though he pales in comparison next to Robin.

“Well, you can if you want to. I just thought you might get hot.” Robin grins and kneels on the beach chair behind Death, carefully balancing his weight. “But if you’re not comfortable baring that much skin, it’s fine. I should still get the back of your neck though.” 

“I see.” Death obediently tips his head forward as there’s a squelch of something liquid behind him. 

“Oh, and your face and your legs and your hands and the tops of your feet,” Robin continues as the first cool touch lands on Tristan’s nape and he shivers. “Then again, if you burn, I get to take care of you with a nice bottle of aloe vera.” 

Death can’t burn. But he may need to pretend to. 

“I would prefer not to burn,” he says. 

“Yeah, fair. It really sucks.” Robin rests his hands on Tristan’s shoulder and leans around him, face inches away, smelling like coconut and sunshine. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. This is going to be fun.” 

Death squints into the distance, where he swears he sees Chaos approaching, with a wide-brimmed sun hat and a brightly colored beach bag slung over her shoulder. She notices him notice her and waves. 

“Right,” he says weakly. “Fun.” 

***

[spiritwings]

Interviewing Spirit: A Communication Guide

Okay, so you’ve established that connection. Your guide has made themselves apparent to you. Now what? Now there this spirit that you hardly know about in your life-- and you don’t know anything about their personality, or how they operate. At this point, you probably need to interview them!  How? Well, I’ll tell you! Of course, all of these options are good for just overall communication with them, But I’ll also add some things that you might want to ask!

Why should I interview my guides?

Interviewing a guide would definitely set the expectations in the relationship between you two. This might reveal things about them, from motives for helping you out, to what they were like when they were living (when applicable), or what they feel their purpose is! You’ll also know what kind of energy they carry-- the sooner you find out you don’t like the energy your guide carries by causing fear and discomfort, the sooner you can dismiss them from your life. 

Methods of Communication

Automatic Writing

This is the best way, in my opinion, to get a definite answer about everything you would like to know about-- Reason being that you don’t need to be good psychic to do it. In Automatic Writing, you lend your ability to write to your guides, and just write. Its important that you are not in an alert and mindful state when you channel your guides. Keep your grip loose, and write whatever words or phrases comes to mind. Clairvoyance comes into use here, too, because if you ask them what they look like to add a face to a name, They may show you instead of describing it out. Make sure you’re nice and relaxed when you do this-- you want as least influence on what you write as possible. Don’t worry about spelling, or what is being said until your pen seems to stop, with no will to write more. This works for computers as well, so feel free to open up an empty typing space, and get to typing!

Meditation

Simply closing your eyes and breathing, clearing your mind of clutter, then asking a question is another way you can communicate if you have the clairvoyance or clairaudience in you. Be patient with how you receive answers in this way-- it may take a while for a calmed, slower mind (mind you, more receptive in that state) to be able to make out what’s being said. Spirit may respond with an image that comes to mind, a memory akin to the answer being given, or flat out speak to you via thoughts that pop up. You can liken this to prayer, but prayer implies it’s a one-way street (to me, anyway). In meditation, set the intention that you WILL hear from your guide. That way you are not dismissive of any thoughts that arrive. 

Mindfulness Sometimes meditation is great, but sometimes you don’t have the time to do the full on interview. If this is the case, ask your guides to make themselves known in the world around you by example! That way you can go about your busy life, and look for signs to your questions. If you ask them a color they want to be associated with and you notice a profuse amount of blue objects that day, chances are, they like blue. If you ask them their purpose of helping you, and you feel like you’re being watched over by someone when you are alone and on the job, they’re probably trying to help you with your work life.  That kind of thing. Just be patient with how fast (or slow) they give you answers. You’ll know them when you see them-- just be mindful if it.

Pendulums

Pendulums and Ouija Boards are stigmatized to bring in spirits that have every intention to do bad things, but that isn’t true! Those people who brought in bad spirits did not protect themselves with white light, and did not invite their guides specifically or had them in mind, not to mention that most stigma stems from the paranormal horror genre. As long as you know you’re protected by your guides,  angels, yourself-- as long as its something you believe in-- it should be fine. I have not had any problems with pendulums, but with a Ouija Board, me and a roommate kind of accidentally got the attention of a spirit that didn’t want to be bothered (clearly), because we were naïve. This was before I knew I was psychic, but the air became oppressively heavy. Oops. This also doesn’t require any psychic ability, so if you’re first starting out, this is a good option. If you do use a pendulum. make sure you are asking Yes or No questions, unless if you have a chart.

Tarot Cards

Tarot Cards are great for communicating with your guides. There are plenty of spreads online and some on this blog you should try out! If they don’t cover all the questions you want, you can make your own spread! Spirit will be there to answer your questions, all the same. However, this may lead to the answers to be a bit more vague. If you are stuck on a meaning, that is fine! But you can prevent getting stuck by using your intuition to read cards-- What do you feel like it means? What is coming to mind when you look at the card? What feeling does it give you?

Questions You Can Ask

There are no limits on what questions you may ask, depending on the medium you are asking in. Always be kind to your guides, and don’t be afraid to be friendly with them, if you so choose.

Here are some question ideas:

What is your name?

What do you look like?

What are you trying to help me with?

Have you been human before?

Are you here with only good intent for my highest good?

How long have you been around?

How long are you going to stay?

What kind of relationship dynamic do you desire?

How can I connect with you the best?

If you were human, can you tell me what your past life or lives have been like?

How will you get my attention?

Any other questions you can think of!

All of these questions and methods can be as intimate as you want them to be, and use whatever you’re most comfortable with! And this isn’t limited to interviews-- you can use these to communicate whenever you’d like!

Cheers,

-Cornet

[ask-crimson-weaver]

Dangerous Waters

Melly still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened. Well, perhaps some part of her did, but with the scattered state of her thoughts, it was nigh impossible for her to think back over and string things together in any meaningful order.

She remembered showing up to Fort Tilden with the Cobwebs, and she had sensed Oliver as they approached, along with four other sources of danger. They had moved in, and a fight had started, with her facing off against Oliver. But at some point… her memory lost focus. That crawling, writhing sensation had wormed its way back into her mind-- hadn’t they undone that spell?-- and her coordination had slipped. At the time, she had had enough sense to try and retreat, but with her steps unbalanced, he had caught up quickly, catching her and dragging her down into the dark of… wherever they were.

She could tell that she was in a small room now, dank and cold air filling the underground space. At this point, the name wasn’t important anymore, seeing as her mind’s focus was drawn to other things. Every dark corner had the potential to hide danger, and every crack and chip in the concrete walls was just another space for some twisted, unfathomable thing to stretch outwards from. The paranoia from before had been straining, though manageable, but this time she felt like it was completely overwhelming her. On top of that, her spider-sense kept going off at unknown things as she had been dragged past them, and now its scream of warning was focused on the figure of green energy and metal that had a clawed arm clamped around her.

“You still think you can get out of this?” Oliver said, a smirk on his face as he watched Melly kick at the air with her still-free legs. “It’s admirable, if not pointless. I mean… all that work, all that searching and fighting… and look where you are now. At my complete mercy. And my associate’s, I suppose. I’m looking forward to watching you as she… feeds you to her Patron or whatever. In any case, it will be one less little Spider that I have to deal with.”

Melly only really took in about half of what he had said, the induced fear and confusion driving most of her thoughts. She could feel it drawing out her spider instincts, which urged her to escape and hide, and for once, she was inclined to do just that exact thing, though the former would have to be done before the latter of the two. She stared back at Oliver with glowing red eyes-- her mask had come off early on, back when she had still been near the others-- and she began to grunt and hiss in her frantic, paranoia-fueled attempt to break free. Where she felt her own strength make headway against Oliver’s arms, more green-tinted metal crept up to mend and reinforce it.

“I suppose it’s sad, in a way,” Oliver continued. “You and your ‘friends’ always talked about all of the great things you had done with your Shard… and even with that, here you are, writhing like a child with a tantrum. Honestly, I could just-- oops!”

The claw of Oliver’s arm suddenly opened, and gravity jerked Melly downwards, causing her to smack into the floor. Not a moment later, though, she had scrambled up onto her hands and knees, making a break for the nearest wall in an attempt to scale it. She’d only made it a handhold or two upwards when Oliver’s tentacle darted out again, clamping down on her leg and pulling her back over. There was a loud crack as two fist-sized chunks of the wall were pulled along after her, dropping off of where they had stuck to her hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Oliver said, sarcastic and unapologetic. “I just get butterfingers sometimes, that’s all.”

He’d pulled Melly off the ground again at this point, though this time she hung upside-down by the leg Oliver had grabbed. He lifted her higher, so that her face was just about level with his.

“Now, where were we?” Oliver said. “Ah! I was just about to further emphasize the true depths of your--”

He found himself cut off as Melly’s hand swung up, launching a spray of webbing directly at Oliver’s face that soon solidified from its glowing state into an angry red color. Oliver stumbled back, growling as his eyes flashed green with a surge of rage. The arm holding Melly snapped to one side, releasing her and sending her flying through the air. The far wall cracked as she collided with it, knocking her breath out of her as she dropped to the ground-- it hadn’t been enough to hurt her significantly, with her energy welling up to help her take the blow, but it still hurt.

“You think that was funny, Spider?” Oliver hissed at her, bolts of metal from his assimilated mass curving up to cut the webbing away. “You think that you’re still able to--”

At that moment, Melly could feel a different arm wrap around her and yank her away off the ground. Even in her state of mind, this tendril that held her in the air was definitely not one that belonged to Oliver. It was far more slimy… with that distinctive energy of the Writhing One spiking all around her. She managed to catch a glimpse of Oliver’s associate: it was the exact same woman she saw in her mind. 

 “Juice Man, remember what we agreed on? I’d like our dear Weaver here to stay alive for the time being,” Odyssia sighed as her other tentacles undulated in the air, “I know she’s a Spider and all and she could probably take a lot more punishment than your average Joe, but I’d like to keep her just functional enough so I can properly study her.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t intending to kill her before you had your chance to do your research, if that was your concern.” 

He re-oriented himself, lifting himself off the ground with his tentacles. 

“I suppose there will be more time to gloat later-- do what you want,” he added, waving one of his upper arms dismissively. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting another Octavius’ studies without good reason.”

“Right,” she replied, before turning to face Melly with a fascinated smile, “While I may have learned a lot from information that I’ve kindly been given access to… there is nothing like being there to study something up close and personal.”

With that, she swiftly took Melly away with her into a new room somewhere deep in the bunker. From what Melly could barely make out, this room looked like a makeshift laboratory that didn’t look out of place in a horror movie. Strange organs and other loose body parts were compartmentalized in various containers. Tables covered in glassware and arcane books, drawers filled with various equipment, several aquarium tanks filled with unfamiliar sea life… coupled with the darkness, the debris that speckled the floor, and the cold, musty air, this place hardly looked sterile in any way. 

Odyssia brought her over to a stolen hospital gurney and laid her down onto it, using her tendrils to hold her down as her human hands began to strap her down with the restraints. 

“You know, you’re pretty lucky as far as my test subjects go,” Odyssia rattled off to her. “Between you and me, most people who get this treatment from me personally are looking at a new, monstrous form in their future. But, you… I’m having a feeling that you’re definitely not a lobbyist who tries to shut down environmental protections for their down lines… or some fuckwit politician who spews misinformation to spark irrational fear or hatred in people… or some idiot who doesn’t ‘believe’ in science and would much rather trust in some pseudoscientific homemade ‘remedies’.”

Odyssia snorted at the thought. 

“You know, Weaver, we never really spoke to each other in person, but I know you are brilliant in your own right,” she continued as she tightened the restraints, “It’s a real shame, though. Your Shard is an incredible source of power. And such power rightfully belongs in the hands of the Writhing One. Unlike Juice Man, this isn’t personal for me.”

Melly had kept up her kicking and fighting all down the hallway, and as Odyssia tightened the restraints of the gurney, she kept straining against them with as much force as she could muster. This room was full of danger-- spider-sense easily told her that-- but as the hallucinations made the dark corners deeper and the creatures and scattered parts more monstrous, a swarm of paranoid thoughts started to close in on her.

She’s going to hurt you. She’s going to make you writhe and bleed like all the others. She wants to take what is yours, and what is you.

Somewhere, deep in Melly’s mind, her coherent self managed to reach through, and she renewed her effort to fight the spell’s effects and push back against the mental flood of the Writhing One’s influence. Her brow furrowed, and her glowing eyes started to flicker to and from an even stronger crimson hue as she made her effort.

“Get… it… out…” she managed to mutter, voice strained through both panic and effort.

Odyssia adjusted her glasses, examining the glow of her eyes with increased interest. 

“Well, if I did that you’d fight back. Besides, seeing you manage to power through this from sheer force of willpower is something I’m far more invested in. If this is what one Shard is capable of… I wonder what an entire Prism could accomplish,” Odyssia mused, her demeanor going still to aid in her observations. “Not many people can just power through my spells like you’re doing right now. Not only does that require an insane amount of mental resilience but the magical prowess to accomplish this is just as an extraordinary feat.”

Odyssia, of course, already knew where such mental prowess and willpower had come from-- at least, it was easy to assume from the memories she had gleaned from Melly. Her soul torn out, fighting for control of a body that wasn’t hers. Both mind and soul shattered by a creature of dreams, pulled back together by both Shard and friends. Her fights against Brevi’s control, her mother’s attempt to change her memories again, even against the toxic shards that had leaked from Itzi’s blade, poisoning her all those months ago. She had fought hard to keep herself her, and she would certainly defend it with all of her strength.

Melly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the twisting room around her as she pushed harder and harder to bring herself back, each push feeling like she was dragging her mind through thick ink. A few flickers of red light raced upwards along her neck, fading just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Get… out,” she repeated, voice a bit stronger. “Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”

Once again, as Odyssia allowed herself to dive deeper into her pursuit of knowledge, that one memory of Melly’s mother kept nagging at her. She furrowed her brow in frustration, this time having her tentacles come in to hold Melly down further. 

“I can’t! I-I won’t! This is my breakthrough! This is for the Writhing One,” Odyssia hissed at her. “Don’t make me make this have to hurt.”

“You’ll... hurt me. Either way,” Melly mumbled out. “Change my head. I can’t… I won’t… let her. You. Anyone. Break me again.”

Odyssia grimaced slightly as she stared down at her. 

Go on. Why aren’t you choking her or something? She’s not going down without a fight, Odyssia was starting to wrestle with herself. Prove her wrong. You’re smarter than her. Don’t let her win. 

Unconsciously, a tentacle began to entertain the idea of wrapping around Melly’s neck. Just as it was about to constrict her, Odyssia realized what was happening and quickly pulled it back from her neck. A sinking feeling in her stomach began to take hold as the internal debate within her mind set in. 

Why did I do that? I’m not supposed to kill her! 

“... T-This is my last warning, Weaver. You need to understand that I’m being far nicer than I could be. I could be breaking you right fucking now but guess what? I’m holding back on you! Want to know what breaking you could look like? I could’ve turned you a monster, make you feel what it’s like to be at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, or take you apart and dissect you but no, I’m giving you the chance to make this easy. Don’t throw it away,” 

Melly was quiet for a moment. Realistically, there wasn’t much she could do in her current condition to fight back against anything worse than what she was dealing with now… but to stop fighting would be to spit in the face of all her prior triumphs of self. Her thoughts were still jumbled, but if there was a way to get things to where they could talk.

Melly’s head turned towards Odyssia slightly, eyes opening to look directly at her.

“...all of that… is that really what you want to do?”

Odyssia froze, for the briefest of moments. She turned away from Melly, running her hand over her face. 

This is what you want to do. 

But why was she still fighting herself on this? She forcefully pounded her fist onto the gurney, cursing underneath her breath. 

“Of course it’s what I want to fucking do… Why would I continue to do this if I didn’t?” Odyssia mutters although her tone suggested that she was beginning to struggle. 

“Want...” Melly said, pausing for a moment as she tried to put a solid thought together. “We want… things. You want things from me. I want to stay me. There’s want… but there’s need too. All of the hurting… is that what you need to do?”

“You… Y-you’re just saying that to get out of this,” Odyssia replies as she shuts her eyes, still refusing to look at her, “Why would my needs matter to you?”

“Because if you need it… and you can choose it… you will. Would’ve.” Melly said. “I can’t make you do anything. Can’t make you…” Melly trailed off for a moment, shutting her eyes for a moment as she had to pull her focus back in. “But… I can fight. Or I can talk. And you… do you need… want to fight? Or do you want to talk? Which will get… what you need?”

“Alright, alright, stop right there. I… I cannot continue this if you're going to talk to me like that. I am barely getting by with following this conversation,” Odyssia groaned as she runs her hands in her messy hair. She turned to face Melly, making direct eye contact with her before continuing, much more quietly, “Tell you what: if I… lessen… the spell’s effects to at least let you speak coherently, you’re going to stay right there and not move. Then I’ll let you talk. If you try to pull the wool over my eyes, I will get mean. Got it?”

Well, though Melly certainly couldn’t make any guarantees that she wouldn’t eventually try to escape… for now, it was the only break she was probably gonna get, and her own mental resistance would only get her so far before exhaustion won out.

“...I understand.” she said.

Odyssia rubbed her forehead, already feeling a headache coming on from the tension in her body. Slowly releasing a deep breath, she closed her eyes to focus on something. 

As she did so, Melly began to feel that Eldritch presence dwindled… not enough to release her from paranoia or the sickness she had felt, it was just enough for her to at least think a bit more clearly. Melly let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding as the strain on her mind lessened, and took a moment to recollect herself-- man, it was good to be able to think mostly clearly again. The observing Odyssia would be able to see the red glow in her eyes recede, and though it was still present it no longer burned with as much intensity as it had been.

“You wanted to talk? Then talk,” Odyssia said coldly, although there was a slight hint of wanting to know what Melly was going to tell her. 

“Look…” Melly began, “this whole thing with the Shards… What exactly is your end goal for all this? And you mentioned the Prism too… if you’ve been in my mind, you know that I’ve already done the rounds with someone who wanted to do the exact same thing you mentioned. And you know what happened to him when he tried it.”

Odyssia would indeed know who Melly was talking about-- Alexander Hobbs, aka the Beholder. She knew he had tried to control the Shards in a bid to access their combined energy… and she knew that it was what had ultimately killed him, the energy he sought burning him away to nothing.

“The Shards aren’t for me to use. I told you, this is for the Writhing One. I know those Shards are clearly not meant for a mere mortal to use. That’s why I’m giving it to my Patron. They don’t abide to human limitations,” Odyssia said, “I devote myself to the glorious Writhing One. Without it, I’d go back to being some repressed, pathetic shrinking violet who can’t fucking stand up for herself or the causes she cares about. So to show my gratitude, I must give back.”

Melly was taken a bit aback by some of what Odyssia had said-- it seemed that there was some baggage behind what course she had chosen to take. Even with it catching her notice, though, she wasn’t sure how Odyssia would react to having it be brought up here and now.

“How do you know if it can use them?” Melly asked. “With all due respect to the power and influence they do have in this world-- which, as you’re aware, I’m currently the subject of-- how do you know that they’ll be able to harness the energy of the Shards. Energy Weaver said they couldn’t alter or control it. The Being said it was out of their jurisdiction. The Palpitors-- they were willing to kill us when we encountered them. Wouldn’t it have been easier for them to just kill a wielder, take their Shard so that one of their Nobles would have access to an unlimited amount of energy? Why else would they have not done that, if not because they couldn’t claim it? Look, what I’m saying is that there’s things about the Shards and how they work that neither of us know. Would you take the risk of sending a Shard to your Patron without knowing what effect it might have? How would they react if what you gave it harmed them?”

“...To act like I know everything regarding my Patron’s full capabilities is to indulge in pointless hubris,” she scoffed, “And either way, you grossly misunderstand how Patrons operate. Patrons—unless some astronomically universal level apocalyptic circumstances occur—never leave their realm of magic. If they did, there wouldn’t be a need for them to bestow an incredibly tiny fraction of their power to mortals like me to do their bidding, right? If they want something, they’ll have people like me to accomplish what they need us to do. This is something they’ve been interested in for a while now. And who am I to object to the Writhing One’s wishes? While I can’t pretend to know how exactly they will deal with whatever a Shard brings… what I can tell you is that they’re approaching this with curiosity and they know the risk; after all, they know what I know.”

“And what you know is what I know-- I’m presuming that’s why you went rooting around in my mind in the first place,” Melly countered. She thought for a moment, deciding that pushing that point further wouldn’t do any good. “Okay… new question. If they never leave their realm of magic, how exactly are they planning on using my Shard? Are you intending to magically mail me to where they are so they can get at it or something?”

Odyssia chuckled at that, “That’s a very crass way of putting it but, essentially, you’re right. I am going to send the Shard directly to them.”

“‘The Shard’,” Melly repeated. “The way you say that has a very conspicuous lack of me included in it.”

“What? You want me to send you in there as well? I highly doubt that you’d be interested in being in the grand presence of the Writhing One. Honestly, I thought the way I planned was more humane, not subjecting you to such unspeakable terrors,” Odyssia laughed. 

“And your plan is… to kill me?” Melly asked. “Or try and remove it yourself? Because I have experience with that second option, and I’ve gotta say… hard pass.”

“It’s worth a try,” Odyssia sighed, coming down from her brief amusement, “And if I can’t remove it without killing you, well… I suppose that doesn’t leave many options for me, unfortunately..”

“Well, even if you do get it out without killing me... I’m still gonna get a one-on-one with the Writhing One,” Melly said. “The whole soul thing, remember? You pull out the Shard, and my soul comes with it. The whole point of sparing me is kind of moot there-- doubly so, considering that Ollie would have no problem killing me without the Shard there to do its thing. And obviously, you don’t seem inclined to kill me if you can help it… which I appreciate, even given my currently unfavorable circumstances. Other than that…”

Melly did think of a third option, but even thinking about it made her blood run cold. One of the Writhing One’s things was manipulating minds, right? If so… what was stopping them from just brainwashing her, or something similar, to try and control the Shard through her?

In a nervous gulp, she swallowed her words, glancing away from Odyssia as she hastily tried to think of any alternative thing to propose-- the more time an option gave her, the better.

“... Were you going to say something there?” Odyssia asked, “And before you do, I’d like to at least thank you for being appreciative. At least you’re more engaging to speak to than any of the previous people who once were strapped in here just like you. I generally hear the same boring, mundane things from people who end up here… In a strange way, I’m almost glad that I gave you the chance to talk,” 

Gee, I wonder why everyone else was less engaging, Melly thought to herself, not thinking further on that. Better to keep those mental images at bay.

“Have to appreciate the little victories, I suppose,” she said, words both sarcastic and sincere. “Punching and the like isn’t always the best way to solve things in the hero biz-- sometimes trying to talk through things first can go a long way. Never hurts to try, I suppose.”

Melly went quiet, debating whether to bring up what she had meant to say. Odyssia had clearly heard her odd pause, and she wasn’t fully sure whether or not she would be able to tell if she was lying or not.

“And… yeah, guess I thought I had something to say,” she said. “Wasn’t anything good, though.”

“... Yes,” Odyssia muttered. 

… Why did she sound so much like Amari just now? Nononono, I can’t let myself think like that. I can’t let myself see her in the Weaver or I’ll really be in shit, Odyssia thought to herself, now actually beginning to feel worried, Goddamnit, Odyssia, stop this right now. You can’t afford to do this. 

“... And what makes you think that?’ Odyssia said, trying to avoid thinking further on her realization. 

“Because it’s something I’ve had people try to do to me before, in one way or another,” Melly said. “And I doubt I’d be able to do much about it if it’s what you or your Patron decide to do to me, hence my aversion to bring it up.”

“...Let me take a wild guess,” Odyssia began, if a bit hesitant herself, “Are you trying to appeal to my humanity in some way? As if you knew anything about me? I mean, you’re welcome to try it. I will at least humor you.”

“Wasn’t really expecting it to be an appeal-- in the regard of me getting out of this, at least,” Melly said. “You don’t seem like the type to be easily convinced to change your mind when you commit to something-- Ollie was the same way. The point being-- seeing as I’d rather not go through something involving that again, I’m refraining from bringing it up as an option at all.”

Melly wasn’t sure how many of her non-Shard memories Odyssia had gleaned, or if she had come to the conclusion of what she was meaning by her words-- it was entirely possible that she’d be able to put the pieces together if she had all of them. For now, though, she sat tight and hoped that that would satisfy her.

“... Fair enough,” Odyssia replied, although something about the way she said this made her tone waver a bit. “I have been described as ‘ride or die’, I suppose. But make no mistake—and don’t tell Juice about this—I’ve come to understand that aside from tenacious tendencies… we don’t really have much in common. Consider this food for thought.”

“Juice?” Melly said, amused by the apparent nickname. “And… yeah, I think I’ve noticed that— and that’s coming from someone that knew him before all of this Shard business.”

“Long story,” Odyssia replied cheekily, “In the nicest way possible… did he always have a stick up his ass? Was he born with it? Because I’ve worked with many people and I have to be honest, he’s not the most fun person to be around.”

“Well…” Melly said, thinking of where to start. “He was always a bit stuck-up, but he knew his tech stuff— was in classes with someone I know. I think he’d been doing the Ock stuff behind the scenes for a while… not that I ever picked up on it. Kept that hidden up until I had already handed the Green Shard over for him to claim. Was originally hoping that he’d be a part of our team, but, well… you’ve seen where he’s ended up in that regard. In hindsight… it was pretty dumb of me to hand it over to anyone, whether or not I trust them. I was new to the hero stuff, and definitely more naive than I am now with a few more years under my belt. Sure, I may wield a Shard, but after that, I don’t think I’m qualified to be the one that decides who stuff like that gets handed out to.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone I know,” Odyssia commented to herself before replying to Melly. “I suppose I could relate to you hoping someone you care about would join you.. but that’s besides the point. Probably wasn’t anything like what you went through anyhow, considering that the one I’m talking about is… a much different person from him, let’s say.”

“That’s fair,” Melly said. “Even with the similarities… there’s plenty of differences more often than not, especially between dimensions. I guess the whole mess— the Shards getting involved and all— sort of make ours a bit of a unique case, at any rate.”

Melly paused, thinking something over.

“You know… how did you and Oliver end up coming across one another anyway?”

Odyssia chuckled at that. “It is in my best interest not to be a snitch. I might be more amicable towards you than most people that find themselves on this gurney, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll spill everything about myself or my whereabouts. Nice try, though.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot,” Melly said, shrugging. “Guess you’ve got to be an Ock to get in on all the secret Ock meetings… or however else you two ended up meeting.”

“Well, I’m sure you can come up with your own conclusions, considering that you somehow managed to start working with Spider-Glass,” she sighed as a tentacle of her stretches out to reach a clipboard and a pen on her desk. 

“I suppose I can, yes,” Melly replied-- like Odyssia, it was probably in her or the other Spiders’ best interest not to go into detail on how that came about. Her eyes followed Odyssia’s tentacle as it reached over to the desk. Despite all of the pleasant conversation, she had to remind herself that she was on borrowed time. The Spiders would probably come after her eventually, but without a solid sense of how long it had been since was brought down here, she couldn’t be sure how much longer it would be before the others returned. The longer it took, the more time there would be for Odyssia to start trying things.

Odyssia, while not wanting to press further on how the two met, there was something on her mind in regards to her own spider. She took the clipboard and pen and began writing her observations on Melly down as she continues to speak. 

“Speaking of… what are your thoughts on her, exactly?” she sincerely asked with no trace of joking around or cheekiness to her tone. 

“What?” Melly said, admittedly caught a bit off-guard by the question. “She’s, uh… nice? Good teammate, good… all-around person?” She wasn’t exactly sure what Odyssia was trying to get at with that question, but knew it was better not to give specifics away freely.

Odyssia considered what Melly said for a moment. There was a gleam in her eye and a satisfied smile crossed her face as a subtle sense of pride exuded from her. 

“Yes, she always was… I don’t expect anything less from her…” she muttered to herself, “You’re not alone in that assessment, Weaver. Many will agree with you on that front.”

“As I’ve seen-- and met,” Melly said. The way Odyssia had said that… she knew a bit about Amari and Odyssia’s history. Whatever connection they had outside of the hero stuff, in some regard she could still say that it was a good one.

“Yes… I suppose that’s one thing that me and old Juice Man can’t really relate to each other on,” Odyssia sighed. 

Before either of them could say anything else, the tell-tale sound of metal stomping on concrete echoed down the corridor that Odyssia had brought Melly down. Feeling him approaching, Melly went still, keeping her head facing away from the door-- hopefully, she could avoid having Oliver know that she was more coherent than before. A moment later, Oliver entered the room, looking rather annoyed. His eyes scanned the room for a moment before locking on Odyssia.

Speak of the Devil, Odyssia thought to herself as she looked back at him. 

“So… What is it this time, Oliver?” she asked, putting the clipboard and pen down on the gurney’s surface. 

“Your… pet keeps bothering me,” he said with contempt. “I’m trying to review the notes on the Shards that you took from the Weaver, but I can’t focus with that thing constantly trying to pester me!”

Odyssia grimaced a bit, shifting her weight as she stepped closer to him. Upon doing so, she noticed Adorabilis, now clinging onto his leg with her tentacles. 

“I see,” she said, nodding tightly, “Let me get her off you.”

Oliver let out a huff in an expression of ‘finally’, holding out his leg and shaking it impatiently.

“Hold still, Juice Man,” she sighed, “You don’t need to shake her around like that.”

Odyssia gently coaxed Adorabilis with her tentacles, using them to remove her off of Oliver’s leg. Oliver could feel the sensation of suction cups being pulled off of him as she was taken away into Odyssia’s arms. 

“Alright, alright, you’re free now,” Odyssia said to Oliver as she heads over to one of the tanks. She opens it up to gently place the flapjack octopus inside. 

“It’s appreciated,” Oliver said, reaching up to straighten the collar of his shirt with a punchy tug. “While I’m here… I might as well ask. How has your research gone, thus far? Anything… interesting?”

“Sure thing,” she replies casually as she shuts the tank’s lid tight, “I suppose, but this was more me wanting a closer look at her and her Shard’s energy.”

“You ‘suppose’?” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. “And have you been able to glean anything from that as of yet?”

“I will have to make some minor adjustments on my method of offering the Shard to the Writhing One but otherwise, I’m sure you already know enough extensive information from that mind retrieval that I did,” Odyssia replied coolly. 

“Indeed,” Oliver said, sounding mildly disappointed. “Speaking of which-- perhaps I should get back to reviewing that information. Perhaps she knows more about the pesky inhibiting devices that she’s used in our past few encounters. Quite fortunate that she had some spares on her this time around-- they usually burn out and damage themselves before I have the chance to inspect them more closely.”

“Sounds good to me,” Odyssia replied. “I will keep an eye on our guest here and make said adjustments to the plan.”

“And as I said before, I am quite looking forward to seeing the results,” Oliver said. Without another word, he turned, moving quickly out of the room back the way he had come.

As soon as he was gone, Odyssia groaned a little. 

“Man, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve believed he was an energy vampire or something,” she muttered underneath her breath. 

“Of the metaphorical sort, I’m assuming,” Melly said once she was sure Oliver was out of earshot. “I’ve met some actual energy vampires, and they tend to be a bit more direct with their energy-taking intentions.”

“Of course,” Odyssia chuckled, “A strange little man, he is.”

She picked up her clipboard and continues writing things down.

“... Now listen,” she muttered, recalling something, “I hate to admit it but I prefer you like this over when you could barely speak a coherent sentence. I… know that we really couldn’t be all that friendly after what I did to your mind and what I’m planning on doing. But even so, I feel like I should at least let you know this: Spider-Glass is… someone who is this very smart, very capable young lady. I know full well she’s going to show up eventually. Should she inevitably come to set you free just at the nick of time, promise me one thing: keep her safe. Her survival is… important to me.”

Melly stayed silent for a moment, taking in Odyssia’s words. It felt a bit strange, hearing that from someone with the intent to harm her… but she could tell that the Ock’s words were genuine.

“Us Spiders… we protect each other,” Melly said. “If she needs my help, if she ends up in danger… I’ll do what I can to make sure she’s safe at the end of things.”

There was a slight flicker of red in Melly’s eyes as she spoke-- a spark of determination and resolution, one could say. It was only there for a moment, though, before fading back to their usual crimson hue.

Odyssia smiled at that. Whether it was due to Melly’s promise, the brief glimmer of red, or a mixture of both, it was hard to say. 

Both knew it was only a matter of time until Spider-Glass would return. Until then, Odyssia resolved herself to scribbling down what she had learned from her talk from Melly that she had neglected to inform Oliver about. And Melly, biding her time until the others returned, resigned herself to wait.

[delirious-comfort]

I promise you I wouldn't go 0 to 100 with you with those kinds of questions. Weirder than that? I'm starting to grow concerned for you if you draw in such.. colorful personalities like that.

You sound like a terrible influence, and I fully support that (because, same).

Oh gosh. I'm sorry you were bullied. Kids/teenagers can be brutal. I always thank my lucky stars that I went to schools with nicer kids. I was later told no one would ever mess with me because I looked like I knew how to fight - which I attribute to my rbf. I obviously don't know you all that well personally, but you seem perfectly delightful to me so it's hard to picture you being a handful.

Howard the Duck! I think I hated it as a kid. My dad really wasn't careful with the movies he rented for me. My sister didn't tell me it was awful, so I never added The Meg to my list.

Hmm, can't relate. I'm not that into muscles, so The Rock isn't my cup of tea, and I do fancy the gents as well (though not as much as the ladies, despite what my dating history would suggest). Watch a movie that prominently features a pretty lady (that kicks ass), and the identity crisis may be averted for a while. Sorry to hear that. Is there a way to put some happiness back in you?

Music. Oh jeez. I could rattle off what I like all day, but I'll refrain. Some of my favorites: St. Vincent, Sevdaliza, Allie X, Lisa Hannigan, Beirut, James Blake, Chet Faker, Leon Bridges. And so on.. What about you?

A little. I'm very over 2020. I shan't miss it, but I'm not an optimist by nature, so I'm not all that thrilled about 2021. Are you?

I would need more details. 1. Would I have books/music? 2. Do I get to leave the cottage? 3. Do I have to bring someone with me? And if so, how small is this cottage? If the answer is yes and tiny, I'm leaning towards no. 150k isn't enough to put myself through that. I need a lot of alone time - though exceptions do apply from time to time. I don't currently like anyone enough to share a space with them for a whole year. Same question goes to you, though. Would you do that for $150,000?

Ooh, we’ve entered scrolling era on the computer! I now need to scroll to see what you wrote! Exciting things. *claps*. Back when I wrote Shadow Haven I used to get a lot of anons because they thought I was super into answering questions like, “How often do you masturbate / Do you masturbate to fic / What is your favorite thing to masturbate to / You made me come twice with this chapter!” Okay, that last one isn’t a question, but definitely have been told that a few times. Although my all time favorite comment I’ve ever gotten was from this young girl who said she almost reached an orgasm for the first time but the fic wasn’t long enough xD Hm, bullying is a thread throughout my life. But yeah some kids can be absolutely brutal. Adults too. But that’s a sob story for another time lol. RBF is one of my favorite things. I’m glad you didn’t experience that in school, though. I don’t know if I’m all that delightful. I think I’m nice? That’s something lol. I’ve never seen Howard the Duck to be honest. The only Duck I know is Donald. Oh want to hear a funny story about a duck? One day when I was young, back in the olden days, in the 90′s... My brother came home with a duck once. He said it was injured and he put it in the shed. I do think it really was injured but I have no idea what was wrong with it. We had this iron tub in the shed that we put water in and within a couple of days he had shat all over the shed. But we kept him for quite some time I think, although I was young so it was probably like two weeks that felt like two years. Anyway, the duck got better. We named him Donald and then we put him back out in the pond near our house where he came from. You’d think that’s where the story ends. But tis not. So one day not too long after we released him back into the pond... They started to drain the pond because, well actually I don’t know why. My brother said it was because there was one of those electric eels that they needed to get out of the pond, which made us all scared to swim in and I’m just now realizing he probably lied about that. Dick. Anyway, big digging machine came, and I went to walk the dog and on top of the claw of the digging machine was a dead duck. Our dead duck. Which I could see from far away. Uhm. Okay so maybe it wasn’t our duck. But as a child I was fucking convinced it was. I sobbed and told my mom he had been killed. And she was just like, “Well, he had a good time with us, didn’t he!’ I was and perhaps am at times a bit... how shall I put this gently... over dramatic. Sensitive. A drama queen. I freely admit it. I don’t actually know a lot of those artists but I’m listening to Sevdaliza’s Human and uhm. I bet it’s a on a lot of x-rated playlists. Yeah I’m with you on the 2020/2021 feeling. I don’t even want to say it can only get better from here on out because was I ever wrong before!  This song is a bop. I like it. Goes straight on my current obsessions playlist. Okay, cottage details. I asked because it’s always one of those Facebook posts I see, but here’s some details.  Fuck. Details. Okay. I got this. Yes, you can bring books. And movies. And there’s a TV and a radio and a computer. Just no internet. I don’t know why. But there’s not. FB rules. Not mine. I’d need internet.  I’m suddenly getting a one-shot through into my thick skull. As if I am gonna write it. Ha.  You can leave the cottage whenever you want. You’re free to roam. Not a prisoner. Hm, it’s not so small that you can’t live comfortable in it, lets say at least two bedrooms, although my inner muse wants to scream, “And there was only one bed,” so hard. So original.  I suppose you don’t have to bring someone.  I think I could do it but I don’t know how beneficial it would be to my mental health. I already live alone, I have a tiny studio, and I hardly ever leave due to my health issues I’ve had this year. Although, on Fridays I get to go outside with my physical therapist and I am very much looking forward to that. Internet is very much my whole world right now. So I think if it would be taken away I would either thrive, or nose dive.  If I had to share the space with someone, I don’t know if I could do it. Depends on who it is, I suppose. Like, I love my mom to death, but her and I would kill each other within a week probably.  God this is a lot of blabbing. Oop.  Also I just saw the terrible influence thing. Yes, yes I am. I used to make my niece do tiktok’s to prank my brother but one day he got super mad. But too be fair I did have her pretend she stapled her fingers together with a staple gun. So you know. I had it coming.  You’d think all this typing would warm up my fingers, but my fingers are ice cold. Okay, here’s a question. What is your dream holiday destination?