#hell be 2 in february so yeah

[green-fifteen]

Day 6: Stretch

 Fandom: Supernatural

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Word count: 2,988

written for @fluffyfebruary

read on ao3 instead

Dean’s boyfriend is an angel. Probably lots of people say that, but when Dean says it, it’s actually true.

Castiel is the whole package: wings, good looks, asshole parents, you name it. Dean asked him if he kept a halo lying around and he’d just never seen it, but Cas told him that those 14th century paintings were rotting his brain. Well, he didn’t say it like that, but that was the gist. He even has a special, terrible, otherworldy form that he won’t show to Dean. 

“I do not want your brain to leak from your eyes,” he’d said, but Dean thinks he’ll wear him down eventually. 

Despite being an actual angel, Castiel is getting the hang of living with humans pretty well. Dean worked very hard to socialize him and teach him all the right vocabulary. There are still hiccups, but they’re working on those as they come up.

Like, the other week Cas had gone with Dean to buy groceries. While he was in another section, Cas had found the free samples. Dean arrived in time to see the kosher sausage saleswoman begin to sob. Dean rushed to comfort her while Cas chewed a frank with scientific interest. What did you say to her? he questioned in the car. Cas looked impatient. I told her the sausage was not actually kosher. And that her mother won’t kick her out for dating the girl at the cheese counter. I was being kind, Dean. Dean had given him a dubious look and lectured him about boundaries until they got home. 

Anyway, even accounting for the occasional misstep, Cas is doing much better in human society than he had been four years ago. Sure, people can usually tell he’s an angel just by looking at him, but it’s not like that’s a secret. In fact, Dean practically writes it on his forehead in the mirror every morning, he mentions it so much. I CAN KISS AN ANGEL WHENEVER I WANT!

And it’s not that Dean is smug about locking down a divine creature of unknowable power (although he is), he just thinks Cas shouldn’t have to hide in his own town. He’s aware that some angels do hide, when they live among humans. Cas’s brother Michael moved to Tulsa and wears straps to keep his wings down inside his power suits. He says it’s only until he can find a job, but Dean doesn’t want that for Cas. Not ever. 

Even before he really knew Cas, he was fascinated by his angelic nature. The first time he saw him, they’d both been sixteen. Dean was coming home with Sam, who was in the same school as him for once and taking the same bus. He was taller than him at only twelve years old. (Yeah, his brother was a genius who skipped grades. Dean was sick with pride but pretended to make a fuss about his kid brother harshing his game with the high school chicks. Sam just rolled his eyes and told him to stop blustering. ???)

A boy with gigantic wings had been standing in the driveway of the house next to theirs, helping the adults move boxes from an oversized U-Haul. His back had been turned to them, so he hadn’t noticed either of them slowly walking up the path to their front door. Dean and Sam both were staring openly, forgetting themselves in their surprise at seeing some kind of bird-boy in a weird linen shift.

It was Sam who gasped softly and said, “Dean, I think he’s an angel,” which is why he’s the genius. The angel kid had turned around and seen them then, but he didn’t react except to stare, creepily. His parents noticed him looking and made some hand gestures and then the boy sighed and walked over. They were frozen on the paving stones, watching him approach. 

“Mother and Chuck said to introduce myself. I’m called Castiel, in your tongue.” 

Just as he finished speaking, the door to their house opened and their father called, “Hey, Stretch, get the good rune-chalk from the cellar, would you? We’re re-doing the basement tonight.” 

Sam stomped off rudely, obedient and irritated. Dean didn’t have the talent for wards like his brother did, which was just as well in his book because he didn’t have to do stupid shit like play twister with chalk lines in the cold-as-hell basement. 

Dean and Castiel watched as he rounded the house, then focused on each other once more. They made eye contact and Dean wanted to smile at the serious expression on his face, but he didn’t. 

“I’m Dean,” he said and reached out a hand. It hovered lamely in the air when Castiel didn’t take it. He pulled it back and wiped his palm on his jeans. 

“So, you guys just move to town?” he asked, awkwardly.

Castiel glanced back at the U-Haul. “Yes.” His tone said obviously. 

“Uh, how do you like it?” 

“We arrived 40 minutes ago.” 

Dean was beginning to wish he was better at drawing runes. He made a few more lame attempts at small talk, hoping Castiel would remember he was supposed to be helping his parents with the truck full of boxes and let Dean escape inside. He didn’t, just answered Dean’s inane questions with bone-dry syllables and never stopped looking directly in his eyes. 

“Listen,” Dean said eventually. “I’ve got homework to do and dinner and stuff.” And to be polite, he said, “Maybe you could come over for dinner? Anytime you want to, you guys are welcome.”

He cringed at himself. His dad would probably not like hosting the neighbors for dinner and honestly, Dean didn’t even know these people. What if he’d just sentenced his family to an entire night of conversations as awkward as this one?

The angel had accepted the invitation with disproportionate gravity (I thank you for opening your home to us, Dean) and they’d parted. The next night, he showed up at the Winchester’s front door at 5 o’clock, alone. 

“Is this too early?” he asked, peering around Dean into the house. 

Dean shook his head mutely, gave him a polite smile, and waved him inside. When he stepped in, Dean’s dad looked up at them, gave Castiel a quick once-over, then quirked an eyebrow at Dean.

“This is Castiel,” he explained quickly. “His family moved in yesterday, next door. I invited him over for dinner.”

John looked like he wanted to laugh. “How neighborly, son,” he said. Dean flushed and escaped to the kitchen, dragging Castiel behind him. 

The big white wings were tucked modestly against his body and Dean was distantly grateful, considering all the glass jars and framed pictures they had in the kitchen. He made himself busy with setting the table, ignoring the persistent awkwardness Castiel summoned in him.

“You can get the cups down from that cabinet,” he said, pointing. He followed each of Dean’s instructions until the table was ready, heaped with enough spaghetti and meatballs to feed a small Italian town (as long as they weren’t that particular about eating sauce from a jar.)

Sam crashed into his chair when Dean hollered and their dad came leisurely to the kitchen a minute later. Sam gave Castiel a toothy smile.

The angel seemed perturbed when they started eating.

“You won’t say grace?” he asked.

Dean felt caught. He looked at his dad, who glowered slightly.

“Not anymore,” he said curtly. Castiel just looked thoughtful.

The humans ate quietly, focused on their plates. Castiel was eating slowly, watching the others and copying their behavior. He saw Sam mop the edge of his plate with a piece of buttered bread.

“Stretch,” he said, politely. “Please pass me the bread.”

There was a confused silence before Sam hesitantly passed him the bag of Wonder Bread.

“You meant me, right?” he asked, muffled through a full mouth of food.

Castiel just said, “Yes. Thank you, Stretch.”

Dean stared at him for a second and then lost it. His laugh started strangled as he tried to keep it in, but he really couldn’t stop himself. He had to put his fork down on his plate.

That night had been Cas’s first lesson in humanity. Sam had formally introduced himself (Dad just calls me that because I’m tall, he explained, red-faced) and Dean eventually stopped laughing long enough to finish his dinner. When the food was gone, he pulled Cas out of the kitchen, saying Dad and Sam’ll clean up, I cooked and you’re a guest.

Cas asked him what he liked to do for fun. Grinning, Dean took him to his bedroom and climbed out the window. When they were both on the roof, sitting silently and listening to the soft noises from the town and the woods behind the neighborhood, Dean realized Cas was surprisingly easy to talk to.

And that had only been the beginning. After that night, Cas was at their house all the time, listening to Dean talk with the focused attention of a congregant. Dean  took the responsibility of educating him very seriously and taught him the funniest swears first. He had a lot of fun with that until Cas absently called Dean’s (admittedly crotchety) grandma a ‘shithead’ where she could hear him. He’d had a hell of a time explaining himself while simultaneously guarding Cas from rapid elderly thwacks.

Dean doesn’t spend as much time at Cas’s house, which is how they both like it. Cas’s parents make John Winchester look like a stoner hippie Kindergarten teacher. They’re really strict, is the point. And startlingly conservative, for a pair of people who were pooh pooh’d out of their angel community because Cas’s mom had a second marriage. Needless to say, they aren’t terribly warm toward Dean. They’ve never been rude to his face, he doesn’t think. But their lack of approval is clear. 

Even before the first time Cas had kissed him, they sometimes made excuses why he couldn’t see Dean and, around Dean’s seventeenth birthday, took him along on a business trip to Springfield, even though there’d been nothing for him to do there. Cas had missed his party and been angry with them for weeks. Dean thinks Cas’s parents knew about them before they did, which is why they told Dean things like Castiel is studying for his exams, after he knew Cas’s homeschooling program was already finished for the summer. And Castiel needs to rest, he has.. the flu, on a clear August day. (Dean was pretty sure angels coldn’t get the flu, then Cas had barged past them out the door, looking very hale and pissed off.)

They did figure it out eventually, though. It started when were both newly eighteen and sitting on a blanket in the park, watching The Matrix Reloaded. Sam was in front of them, eyes glued to the side of the white plaster building where the movie was being projected. Dean had made dumb jokes all throughout the first movie, much to Sam and Cas’s irritation. He was distracted as the second movie played, looking at the side of Cas’s face. Cas was just so focused and interested.

On screen, Persephone was bargaining with Neo. You have to make me believe it’s her, she was saying. Neo kissed her briefly and she pulled away. Terrible. Forget it. 

When the movie ended, they took a break to stretch their legs and walk around a curving path opposite the building. Sam stayed behind, happily snacking and waiting for the third movie in the marathon to start. 

“What did you think?” Dean had asked, kicking rocks in front of his feet. 

Cas made an assessing noise. “There is... a lot going on in these films,” he eventually said, voice as starched and diplomatic as Dean had ever heard it. Dean laughed, punching him on the arm. 

“You must have liked some of it,” he insisted playfully. 

Cas was quiet for a long moment, walking next to him and looking at the ground. He spoke as they reached a bend in the path. “I was curious about one scene,” he said slowly. “The character-- what was his name, the important one?”

“Neo.”

“Neo was trying to convince that woman to show them to the Key-person. And he had to kiss her.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Her husband was cheating on her and she wanted to hurt Trinity’s feelings, I’m pretty sure.” He hadn’t been paying that much attention, but Sam had made him watch these movies eleven million times before tonight. 

“He had to kiss her well. She could tell when he did it wrong.” Cas stopped walking and turned to Dean. “Is there a way to kiss wrong?” His eyes were a little panicked, like he hadn’t even thought about kissing anyone before but now he had to worry about doing it incorrectly. 

Dean smirked. “I’m pretty sure there is, yeah.” He made a showy gesture to his own face. “Not that I’ve had any complaints.”

Cas looked unimpressed. “I believe you have to have customers first, to recieve complaints.”

Dean had flushed and spluttered, “I’ve kissed people, dude! Last summer, I kissed Alexis Ford at her birthday party! With tongue!

“Alexis lost a bet,” Cas said, cruelly recontextualizing the one and only kiss of Dean’s young life. Dean glowered and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“I bet you’d be a bad kisser,” he grumbled. He didn’t mean it. Actually, he’d thought about kissing Cas earlier that evening, during the first Matrix. And in the car on the way to the park. And the day before, when Cas greeted him on the lawn after work. And at least forty other times since they’d both graduated high school. None of those imagined kisses had been bad. They’d been pretty embarassing, though, which is why he slam-dunked them into the “do not talk about to anyone” drawer in his head. And then locked it. 

Cas looked offended. “What is your evidence? I’ve never kissed anyone. There’s no data.”

“I just know. It would be slimy and horrible, somehow.”

They were behind the building now, out of view of the picnic area. They were almost alone, except for a few people hurrying to the restrooms.

“You’re just being hurtful,” Cas said, sounding cross. “I think I could kiss well if I were able to practice. It has to be a skill, like anything else.”

He stopped walking, suddenly. Dean halted in place, looking over his shoulder at him. 

“I’ll kiss you,” he said, head tilted. He grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him. 

“Ack! Hey!” Dean protested. 

“You can tell me if it’s bad. If I need practice.” He had that look on his face then, the one he got when he was gung-ho to learn something about humans that only Dean could teach him. 

Dean swallowed, keeping his eyes on Cas’s resolutely. “Um, are you--” he swallowed again. “Are you sure?” The idea of pulling away from him had occured to Dean and he knew it was probably the better one, but instead he stayed right were Cas had put him, heart hammering. 

Cas nodded, then stood looking at him for a long moment. 

“Dean?”

“Uh, what?”

Cas rolled his eyes, huffed a little can he be this stupid? sigh and kissed Dean on the lips. 

A terrible, pleased noise escape Dean’s throat and his hands moved up without his input, catching and holding Cas’s shirtfront. When Cas pulled away, his eyes were wide. 

“That was--” he cleared the gravel from his voice. “That didn’t feel very bad.”

Dean had been zapped into goo and couldn’t speak. Cas touched his own lips with an awed expression and Dean wanted to kiss him again, so bad. He gathered himself enough to croak, “Beginner’s luck.” 

The angel’s eyes immediately flashed at the challenge and he reeled Dean in with a hand at his back. They made out behind the building until Sam came looking for them midway through The Matrix Revolutions. 

After that, it had been zero to sixty-- Dean was Cas’s boyfriend to everyone they met. Cas met him on his lunch break from the garage and kissed him in front of his dad. Dean dragged him out onto the roof to take his clothes off of him and dig his fingers into the clean white feathers of his wings. 

Now, Dean has been kissing Cas (and a little bit more than that) for two years. Cas checks Zillow every day and sends him houses he likes the look of. Dean has programmed ‘This is not in our budget’ into his texting app so he doesn’t have to type out all the words every time Cas sends him the listing for another million-dollar development property. 

Chrissake, Cas, you’re a guidance counselor and I fix cars. Think a little smaller, babe, he told him. Cas made a face and told him not to swear. 

Dean can see a future for them and he wants it more than anything. He keeps teaching Cas human things like replacing the goddamn toilet paper and how much detergent to use in the washing machine. He’s still weird in an obvious way, and Dean still doesn’t want to change that. He thinks they’ll be sitting on their front porch, Dean old and gray, Cas looking however the hell he’ll look in sixty years (Dean should ask him, actaully), and Cas will still make remarks like Dean, these adult diapers do not wick nearly as much moisture as the packaging claims. He thinks he’ll still smile at him, every time. He’ll still feel the same way he did when Cas made him laugh for the first time at the dinner table. He’ll want to keep him. Forever. 

When he looks at Cas, wide eyed like a newborn and holding Dean’s hand in the supermarket, at the park, in line at the DMV-- forever doesn’t feel like much of a stretch. 

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 2 (3tan) (m) | myg

title: broken (pt. 2) pairing: 3tan!yoongi 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 | busted | broken (pt. 1) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down. note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride. warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍‍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst. drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est word count: 17.7k my god

smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))

-

-

There’s no way.

How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time? 

“No fuckin’ way.”

Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware. 

“Were they always on this team?” 

“No.”

“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”

They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd. 

It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience. 

The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.

Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand. 

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night. 

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing. 

“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.

“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”

“Play.” 

Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still… 

One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.” 

Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise. 

“And you’re paying me double.” 

Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him. 

But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?” 

After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.” 

Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.” 

Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention. 

But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.

Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.” 

Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,

“Don’t worry, love.” 

You stare.

“This will be over soon.” 

-

-

The game is… just a game. For now.

No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.

Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.

And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet. 

“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!” 

That was close. Way too close. 

Get it together. 

But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs. 

And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy. 

However. 

When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense. 

On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action. 

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats. 

Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.

Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you. 

You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks, 

“I need you all to calm down.” 

“No can do, coach.” 

“Not if they aren’t.” 

Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived? 

Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder. 

And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too. 

Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.” 

“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.” 

“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?” 

Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s. 

And you don’t like it one bit. 

But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up. 

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring. 

Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed. 

Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out. 

“What?” 

“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.” 

“After what he did to you?” 

The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…” 

Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,

“I can’t let that shit go.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Sorry, doll.” 

“Please just—” 

Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back. 

Only for him to be just out of reach. 

-

-

After halftime, it’s a whole different game. 

From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill. 

And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead. 

Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on. 

Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.

If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck! 

Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.

Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.

The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning. 

Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.

A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench. 

What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger. 

But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands. 

Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win. 

All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.

It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate. 

Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change. 

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive. 

Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight. 

Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees. 

And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.

-

-

Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy. 

But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder. 

Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you. 

Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.

It’s making you wonder if… 

Nah. 

That’s still too big a reach. 

When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night. 

Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”

Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”

“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”

“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”

Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—

“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!” 

Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”

“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”

“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight. 

God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on. 

Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?” 

Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“You sure? That looked…”

Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.” 

Motherfucker. 

Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?” 

Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.” 

“Mm.”

Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”

“What are y’all talking about over there!”

Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.

Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night. 

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain. 

Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky. 

In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?” 

And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod. 

Weird. 

But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?” 

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.” 

We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.” 

Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.” 

“You’re whipped.” 

“No, you.” 

“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.  

And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat. 

The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some. 

Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do— 

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake. 

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud. 

Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!” 

To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.” 

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart. 

“Babe, we have to go now.” 

“No, let me go!” 

They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?

You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness. 

Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts. 

Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive. 

Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.

And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.

Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—

As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”

“Do what!”

“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”

“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”

No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—

Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”

“Stop and just think for a second—”

“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”

“Dumb as fuck!” 

Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.

Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.” 

From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure. 

“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much. 

“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.

Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…” 

“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.” 

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod. 

Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort. 

Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too. 

Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard. 

Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”

When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”

Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut. 

You want to believe him. You do. You do. 

But hope may be a bitch. 

So you don’t. 

-

-

Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort. 

You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating. 

The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.” 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”

“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—” 

You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?” 

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.” 

Oh. 

“Your brother’s here, too.” 

“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.” 

“Umm.. Yeah.” 

As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.” 

It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—” 

“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes. 

You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.” 

“He was gonna—”

��All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up. 

And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?” 

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.” 

Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?” 

“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.” 

“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.” 

“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.” 

And you mean that. 

“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.” 

So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else. 

-

-

You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.

Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.

And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen. 

-

-

Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.

Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.

They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid. 

As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,

“Is there something you wanna say to me?” 

“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.” 

“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.” 

But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room, 

“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?” 

Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”

Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out, 

“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?” 

You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.” 

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”

Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not. 

And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out. 

Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted. 

But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.” 

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” 

“I will.”

Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…

No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends. 

So you leave to go pack without another word. 

It’s raining. 

Hard.

And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up. 

With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do. 

Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either. 

So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you. 

Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened. 

Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you? 

A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—

Your eyes burn. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring. 

Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick. 

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know. 

Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else. 

Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—

“Hello?”

“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”

“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”

“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there. 

Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with. 

But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else. 

After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park. 

Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside. 

And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here. 

But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.

Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.

Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer. 

After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear. 

Finally. “Hello.” 

“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside. 

“You’re here?” 

“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell. 

But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame. 

“Not tonight.”

Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—” 

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go. 

And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching, 

“Please.”

Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage. 

You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine. 

Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight. 

You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you. 

Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice, 

“…No.” 

You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.

And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that. 

But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—

“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—

A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.

As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground. 

And your breath cuts like it’s your last. 

Shards. 

Pieces.

Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room. 

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.

No, no, no. Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.

What did he do, what did he do?

Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.

Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.

Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is. 

Shit, this is everywhere. 

When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.

“Stop.”

Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts. 

This really, really hurts. 

Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.

But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going. 

Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain. 

“I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”

It hurts.

He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.

But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room. 

When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way. 

In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment. 

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed. 

This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.

You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away. 

One more. Two more. Another one here.

As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.

Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.

The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore. 

Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse. 

Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.” 

“I still need to—” 

“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.” 

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting. 

But ice. 

“Who said I needed it?” 

And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?” 

“You think I’m joking?” 

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?” 

“I say a lot of things.” 

…Oh.

That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder. 

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.” 

As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?” 

Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.” 

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.” 

Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.” 

He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?” 

“I am.” 

“Wow.” 

That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?” 

“Do you even know?” 

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!” 

“That’s cus—” 

Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.” 

For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…” 

All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?

Fine then. 

“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

“I swear to—I just said not tonight.” 

Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.” 

Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.” 

And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock, 

“Who asked you?” 

Dark liquid drips onto your soul. 

You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare. 

You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time. 

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.” 

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center. 

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—

Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—  

And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming. 

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—” 

“Whoa, hold u—” 

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—” 

“Just listen—” 

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—” 

Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. 

“I swear to—” 

You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders. 

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again. 

And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now. 

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass. 

“He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.” 

Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you. 

Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.” 

Your eyes are ice. 

“Are you.” 

You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside. 

And Yoongi cracks like lightning. 

“Goddamn it.” 

Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk. 

Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain. 

Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life. 

“Stubborn.” 

“Coward.” 

Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth, 

“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.” 

“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.” 

His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.” 

“Make me.”

Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions. 

And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?

This is liberation. 

You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself. 

“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length. 

Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that. 

With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what. 

“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?” 

You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat. 

“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?” 

And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.” 

And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it. 

Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss. 

Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.” 

“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall. 

You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact. 

“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.” 

“Can’t make me do shit—”

Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.” 

Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—

Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.” 

Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside. 

And it’s maddening. “Please!” 

“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall. 

And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes. 

It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely. 

“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust. 

“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.” 

You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.” 

And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?” 

“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach. 

Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway. 

Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth. 

“What was that?” 

“I said fuck you!” 

“Thought so.” 

Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.

“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.” 

“Fuck—!” 

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver. 

Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.” 

“Asshole—” 

A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.” 

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—” 

Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?” 

You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.” 

“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.” 

“Make me. Bet you can’t.” 

Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.” 

Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear. 

“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.” 

Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that. 

“Fuckin’ thought so.” 

When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure. 

Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down. 

The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension. 

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.” 

“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!” 

“What, doll.” 

“Please!” 

“Nah.” 

Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt. 

Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?” 

“Please!” 

“Mm. Not loud enough.” 

“Yoongi, please.” 

“Oh, we’re saying names now?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Do it yourself then.” 

Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.

And Yoongi gets a front row seat. 

His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—

Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…” 

“Nah.” 

This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.” 

“You’ll come when I say you can.” 

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?” 

“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong. 

Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.” 

You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.” 

Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command, 

“Then fucking come.” 

And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin. 

Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened. 

Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice. 

“I said again.” 

Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone. 

“Yoongi—” 

A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place. 

“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.” 

You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—

“Baby.” 

But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs. 

“Babe.” 

“I—I—” 

Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.” 

You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes… 

They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.” 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale. 

“There you go. Keep going.” 

You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is. 

“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.” 

You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?” 

“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—” 

You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Babe.” 

“You told me so many times—” 

“Breathe, angel.” 

You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice. 

“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just… Like this.” 

“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—” 

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out. 

And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—” 

“I’m here.” 

“So please don’t push me away.” 

“I won’t.” 

“I know you don’t make promises but—” 

“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear. 

Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” 

You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore. 

“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Shower.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on. 

As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside. 

Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?” 

Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.” 

That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.

And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap. 

He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off? 

Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.” 

Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—” 

“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those? 

Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release. 

There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too. 

But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever. 

“You got hurt cus I said to play.” 

“Nope.” 

“I wore the outfit that day.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“And lost my friends at the club.” 

“No.” 

Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have, 

“How about we share it.” 

Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.” 

“Okay.” 

After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.” 

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.” 

His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain. 

Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.” 

“Duh.” 

He’s himself again. 

And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too. 

That’s all you both need to feel peace. 

-

-

You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head. 

But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed. 

Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head. 

“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”

Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.

In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—” 

Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.” 

Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…” 

Scroll, scroll. 

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?” 

Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again. 

Scroll, scroll. 

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”

“I love you.” 

Time bursts.

Your chest glows. 

Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion. 

And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?” 

You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door. 

His eyes. 

Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms. 

No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance. 

“I love you, doll.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do. 

Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe? 

No. 

Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters. 

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.” 

What?

“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—” 

You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you. 

And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue. 

Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay. 

He loves you. 

Fuck, he loves you? 

You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.

He loves you.

Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?

Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man. 

There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything. 

“Yoongi, I—”

He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.” 

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.”

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.” 

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.” 

There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself. 

“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.” 

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall. 

None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.

When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides. 

And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts. 

“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”

You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.” 

Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.” 

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—” 

“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes. 

Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?” 

“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.” 

Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?” 

Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.

Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.” 

Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.” 

“I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him. 

But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give. 

When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined. 

And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking. 

“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again. 

His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two. 

As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come. 

No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too. 

Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?” 

And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.” 

You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.” 

“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.” 

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.” 

Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.” 

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it. 

“You’re a little too perfect right now.”

Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?” 

“What—”

Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?” 

Again. 

You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” 

You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.” 

“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.” 

The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire. 

And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything. 

“Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you. 

“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want. 

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!” 

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful. 

Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion. 

And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists. 

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut. 

Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles. 

You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.” 

He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down. 

Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel. 

“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.” 

Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?” 

But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised. 

As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.” 

Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper. 

And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.” 

“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.” 

“A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.” 

Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.” 

When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.” 

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas. 

You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.

You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.

Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you. 

All of you.

Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?

You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.

Every single stop.

It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world. 

Swelling, you already feel close. 

But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble. 

This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi. 

And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.

Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again. 

How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.

Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep. 

“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again. 

Does he want what you want? Is he ready again? 

As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times. 

When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”

Yoongi only grins. 

And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.

Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence. 

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found. 

After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning. 

Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.” 

When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.” 

Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest. 

After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out, 

“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.” 

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer. 

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet. 

Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”

If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”

You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough. 

Never close enough.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.” 

When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”

“Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.” 

Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?” 

“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”

Oh. That’s news to you. 

“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.” 

“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

“What if he does?”

You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”

Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?” 

Oh. Wait. “What?” 

Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”

Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that. 

Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops. 

“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”

Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there. 

And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.” 

Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion, 

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift. 

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same. 

Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”

It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.” 

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

“Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.” 

The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!” 

He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.” 

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.” 

“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.” 

“Guess what.” 

Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again. 

But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours. 

Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many. 

Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home? 

As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?” 

At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.” 

Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet. 

When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.” 

“I can!” 

Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.” 

His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin. 

This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony. 

And it hurts. It really, really hurts. 

Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”

After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”

You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same. 

Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”

Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret. 

You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.” 

…What?

No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

Oh. 

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking. 

Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?” 

When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…

Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself. 

When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

-

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tbc. :)

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so... how did it go! | join the server!

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ 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: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[mxstellatayte]

hiiii ! could you write a part 2 for the charles and the vibe fic?

YIPPEE!!

i was gonna write it anyways but now i have an excuse to do it!

warnings: this is pure filth, threesome (mmf,) p in v sex, unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT,) mirror sex, carlos is an ass guy, charles is a boobs guy tho, kinda exhibitionism?, creampie, sex under the influence kinda?, it's all consensual though!

all you wanted to do was tease charles. all you wanted to do was see how much you could tempt his resolve before it would crumble. you had no idea it would result in getting eaten out in the bathroom and then promptly realizing that carlos had heard the whole thing and had covered for you and charles.

in exchange, carlos wanted to make even on a bet that he and charles had made at the start of the 2023 season.

monaco. february 10th, 2023.

"what do you think the odds are that one of us wins a race this year?"

charles looked up from the chessboard, his eyebrows furrowing. "what do you mean?"

"i was looking at the red bull and mclaren numbers and our car splits them. we have a fighting chance this year, so do you think one of us will get a win this year?" charles moves a rook, taking one of carlos' pawns.

"it depends. if my entire radio just sounds like 'we are checking, we are checking' and i have to make my own strategy and tyre calls, maybe. if xavi learns basic engineering and communicative skills or gets replaced altogether, i'd say yeah, there's a chance."

"you wanna bet?"

"what are we betting?"

carlos hesitates, then looks up when he hears the door opening. something clatters in the closet before you can be heard cursing quietly, then rearranging the fallen shoes onto the rack. eventually, you come through the doorway to the living room, and, when you see carlos, your face lights up.

"carlos! cómo estás?" (how are you?) you walk over and lean down, kissing his cheek in greeting.

"bien. un poco nervioso para bahrain, pero el carro maneja fantástico este año. y vos?" (good. a bit nervous for bahrain, but the car drives amazing this year. what about you?) you walk over to the kitchen while he's talking and pull out ingredients to make yourself a bowl of yogurt and berries- your favorite snack to have after work before you take your pit bull out for a walk.

"i'm alright. the marketing team made a stupid mistake so i had to do some damage control that took way longer than it should have, but i know martin is going to give them absolute hell tomorrow for it, so at least it doesn't reflect badly on me." your bowl clinks on the countertop as you sit down at the island and take out your computer, your headphones that were previously resting around your neck being slipped over your ears. "i've got some emails to write for an upcoming content creator collab we're doing, so i'll be in my zone. you guys know the drill?"

charles nods. "hermit mode?"

you smile, slipping the second speaker over your ear. "hermit mode."

a few moments pass before carlos speaks again. "are you okay with betting her?"

charles' eyebrows raise. "what do you mean?"

carlos makes his move on the chessboard. "if i win more races than you this year, i get her for a night. if you win more races than me, you can use me for a night. however you want."

the thought of his teammate and closest friend getting to fuck you lights a fire inside of charles, and while he wants nothing more than to agree to the bet purely for the stakes of it, he needs to check in with you first. "can i run it by her and get back to you on that?"

carlos nods. "just get me an answer by bahrain so we can figure something else out if she doesn't want to do that."

italy. february 3rd, 2024.

you had forgotten about the bet. charles and carlos had not.

now, just minutes later, you find yourself with your back once again against the wall, but this time you're staring into carlos' eyes while he fingers you gently, your legs wrapped around his waist and charles leaning against the vanity facing both of you. your eyes unintentionally flick over carlos' shoulder to your boyfriend who is an absolute mess. he's palming himself over his slacks, and you can tell just from the flush in his face that creeps down to his neck and the way his eyebrows are pinched together that he likes what he sees. before you can eye-fuck him the way you know he likes, carlos pulls his fingers out of you and you whine, but he carries you over to the vanity and taps your ass to get you to let go. "spin around, amor. let me see that beautiful ass of yours."

this is a side of carlos that you've never seen before, and it would be a lie to say that it's not hot. without a second thought, you spin yourself around so that your back is resting against his chest and your ass rests against his crotch. "come on, hermosa. bend over." as slowly as you can, you lean forward, resting your hands on the vanity and grinding yourself against him and you swear you can feel his dick twitch inside of his own black slacks. as soon as your forearms are fully resting on the granite vanity, carlos runs his hands down your back and to the front of your legs where he pulls the scarlet fabric of your dress to gather on your left side, the slit opening so that your entire ass is exposed. "no panties?" oh. you forgot about that.

"i kept them for good measure," charles says, pulling them out of his pocket. "you want 'em? you might have to shut her up. she never stops moaning."

"i know. i heard everything. you two are lucky i was the one outside and not anyone else. now," carlos says, taking your panties from your boyfriend and shoving them in his pocket, "do you feel like returning the favor?"

the whiskey you'd downed earlier is taking its effect, and you can't help but bite your lip and nod. normally, you wouldn't be nearly as confident as you are now with someone other than your boyfriend having you in the position you're in right now, but you trust carlos and frankly, you're too turned on to care. charles is in the same room and you're both comfortable enough in your relationship that it's okay. "yes, carlos. i'll return the favor. whatever you want." as you're talking, you can hear carlos unbuckle his belt and unzip his slacks, and when there's finally one layer of fabric between the two of you, carlos reaches into his jacket packet and pulls out a condom. before he opens it, though, you pipe up, your voice embarrassingly breathy and high. "i'm clean and on the pill. don't waste it if getting me pregnant is your only concern."

"are you sure?" carlos says, glancing over at charles. your boyfriend only responds with a shrug and points his thumb at you.

"whatever she says. you're the one fucking her."

carlos doesn't waste a second setting the condom on the vanity, pulling his slacks and underwear down his thighs just enough so that it's comfortable, and pushing into you. you have to bite your lip and cover your own mouth to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, the stretch from carlos being so different to the one you're accustomed to with charles.

when you look up, carlos' head is thrown back and his hands grip your hips so tight his knuckles are white. it might be the hottest sight you've ever seen. "carlos." your voice is whiny, and you're shocked you can even get his name out.

"hm?"

"fuck me, please."

"are you sure?" his voice lilts in the way you're used to hearing, but this time, there's something slightly different about it. maybe it's the fact that he's currently buried inside of you, his hips flush with your own, or maybe it's the fact that every time you move your head to look up at him, your cunt squeezes around him so perfectly he fears he might cum within three thrusts, but either way, you feel so, so perfect.

"positive. now please. fuck. me." slowly, carlos pulls his hips back before pushing into you, slowly increasing his pace until every time his body meets your ass, you're shoved forward slightly on the counter and your breasts bounce forward, almost falling out of the low neckline of your dress.

"mierda, amor, tienes un coño hecho para mi," (shit, love, you have a cunt made for me,) carlos groans out, pulling your arms back and holding them with one hand while the other goes to hold you up by your neck. the restriction to your windpipe makes your head spin and the new angle has carlos' entire cock running against your g-spot with every thrust. you're able to wiggle your hands free, your left hand reaching back to tug at carlos' hair and your right goes down to rub circles around your clit, making you tighten around carlos' dick, and the combination of the pain from his hair being pulled and your cunt spasming around him makes him tip over the edge.

the feeling of carlos filling you up in turn sends you into your own orgasm, and as you cum, you look to your left, where charles jerks himself off watching you. when you make eye contact with him, though, it's the last straw and he spills into his hand with a quiet groan and his head thrown back.

the three of you catch your breaths and carlos pulls out of you gently, then shoves his cum back inside of you. the forgotten egg vibrator in charles' coat pocket is reinserted into your cunt and you whine at the overstimulation, slightly anxious that charles might tease you again, but he whispers a quiet promise in your ear that you've been good tonight, he won't turn it on anymore.

eventually, carlos slips out of the bathroom and you follow shortly after, walking back down the large hallway to return to the event. later that night, after speeches have been made, hollow promises have been spoken, and many, many bottles of expensive champagne have been toasted with, you make your way back outside, your arm linked with charles' as he calls his car to be pulled with the valet service. carlos walks up and stands next to the two of you, his car already on its way up, and turns to you.

"i'd say the bet is settled, no?"

there you have it folks :D

[alonetimelover]

hiii i love your work so much, you're an amazing writer.

can i request a (LONG) instagram au where both the reader and harry are mega popstars and have been together for almost a decade, and now they're married & have a fam together. js overall domestic fluff lol.

thanks

pairing: Harry x popstar!reader

fc: Taylor Swift

a/n: i thank the internet for all the edits of those two together, it definitely helped me finding perfect photos for the story!

masterlist taglist

——————————————————————————————

2013

onedirectionupdates

liked by harrysgirly and 23 393 others

onedirectionupdates You guys remember those rumours that Harry and YN had a thing back in 2012? Well, I think those rumours weren't so farfetched... What do you think?

view all 901 comments

harrysgirly no way! i thought all of you were lying back then!

user93 her? really?

user34 woah, i mean, woah

user56 i need to give her that... she looks stunning

ynupdates Well I don't blame Harry!

user102 i can see that, i can see the vision here

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2014

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates and 34 493 others

harryupdates Harry and YN were seen enjoying a walk in New York!

view all 1 022 comments

ynupdates right after 1989 dropped????? they're insane

harrysgirly WHAT? i thought it was like a one party thing?

user45 what's going on?

user50 what the hell?

user46 James Dean is that you?

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2015

ynupdates

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 56 402 others

ynupdates YN and Harry were seen walking hand in hand to YN's party, celebrating the success of Style's Music Video!

view all 2 302 comments

hArrysbtch YOU'VE GOT THAT JAMES DEAN DAYDREAM LOOK IN YOUR EYES

⤷ ynsmybestie AND I'VE GOT THAT RED LIP CLASSIC THING THAT YOU LIKE

harryupdates woah, that's certainly the way to show that the rumours were true

harrysmylife HAND IN HAND? WTF

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harrysleaks

liked by hArrysbtch, ynsmymama and 76 403 others

harrysleaks Harry and YN back in February!

view all 3 101 comments

hArrysbtch YOU TOOK A POLAROID OF US

⤷ ynsmybestie it's shame that the polaroid is in black and white... iykwim

ynsmymama i can't take it... they look too good together

harrysmylife couples where both people are this beautiful shouldn't be allowed! im protesting! leave some good genes for us!

user45 they're really dating, aren't they?

——————————————————————————————

2017

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 87 594 others

harryupdates Harry and YN were seen attending the after party for Dunkirk premiere in London!

view all 2 839 comments

ynupdates THE MOTHER IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER

ynupdates that's not what i call a soft launching but I LOVE IT

ynsmymama SHE IS BACK !!!! I REPEAT: SHE. IS. BACK. HALLELUJAH. I LOVE MY LIVE NOW

hArrysbtch who is this guy? where is my mysterious man?

harrysmylife seeing that he shows up in public only few times a year, i can say he's still mysterious

ynsmybestie she looks good, like good good, super good

user45 i love all those photos, one every year, showing up and making people loose their shit (mine included)

user23 she looks somehow different, but i can't pinpoint what is it

⤷ user45 she's glowing, that's for sure

——————————————————————————————

2018

ynupdates

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 98 392 others

ynupdates someone's getting fired... YN and Harry after Harry's latest interview with BBC Radio 1, where he was asked about YN and denied WITH A SMIRK ON HIS FACE about dating her! they enjoy messing with us!

view all 3 327 comments

harryupdates 'well, i was two times at the hospital. when i was born and after an accident' YEAH, AND HOW MANY STITCHES DID YOU GET? 'i had like 20 stitches on me!'

harrysbtch they're matching outfits! they cute! they parents! they they they...

⤷ harrysmylife guys, she's broken

ynsmybestie she's so georgous

ynsmymama i need music from them both

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 103 482 others

harryupdates Harry and YN for The Times!!! harry gave an interview that is going to be available in a few days!

view all 6 403 comments

ynupdates yeah

ynupdates im not breathing

ynsmymama shit's got real

hArrysbtch DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT THE INTERVIEW IS TITLED TWO GHOSTS????? like, we were speculating about it and i think we were fucking right!

user45 the way that he's all sexy and intimidating and she's a cinnamon roll is hilarious!

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2019

yourbestfriend

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 358 493 others

yourbestfriend LOVER

view all 76 392 comments

yourinstagram shhhh, it was a secret

harrystyles Who's that fine fella behind that exquisite woman?

⤷ yourbestfriend it's been years and you're still like a lovesick puppy teenager! how?

⤷ harrystyles Well, I am still young.

harryupdates woah, that, that second photo is definitely something

hArrybtch harry, i'll do anything when you're looking at me like that

ynsmybestie what does lover mean?

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 65 493 others

harryupdates HARRY and YN in the photo added to the Fine Line vinyl! Apparently this photo was only in a few of the editions together with Harry's autograph.

view all 2 403 comments

ynupdates YN's rocking the shorter hair with Harry rocking the longer curls

ynsmybestie they both look stunning

ynsmymama i still can't comprehend him releasing the album on her birthday and dedicating it to her... AHHHHHHHH

hArrysbtch screaming, crying throwing up

harrysmoustache the rings, the floral shirt, long curls, the necklace

harrysmylife is it odd to say that i am a slut for this man? man, i am down bad, like real bad

stylesmybabie crying, i love them so much

——————————————————————————————

2020

ynandharry

liked by harryupdates, ynupdates and 54 492 others

ynandharry GUYS !!!!!!! my make a wish came true! i was on a zoom call with harry and yn today!

view all 2 103 comments

harryupdates that's amazing! i know you waited so long for them to actually accept you for the program!

ynupdates they look so good

hArrysbtch the thing is, they're both in the same house and probably the same room even

harrysmoustache i love my parents

user45 did you guys heard about all the rumours that they both actually have a son who's already 3 years old?

⤷ harrysmylife stop believing in everything you read on the internet

——————————————————————————————

2021

harryupdates

liked by yourinstagram, ynupdates and 103 291 others

harryupdates Harry listens to Folklore, do you?

view all 4 302 comments

yourinstagram How did you make it look so realistic????

⤷ hArrysbtch hey queen!

⤷ yourinstagram well hello there

harrysmoustache i love this edit

ynsmymama harry knows a good music when he hears one

——————————————————————————————

ynupdates

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 87 430 others

ynupdates YN and HARRY at the 63rd Grammy Awards!

view all 3 302 comments

harryupdates they are hilarious! they're not even sitting at the same table

harrysmoustache catching up with my bestie after not seeing her for years (it's been twenty minutes)

hArrysbtch AND THEY BOTH WENT HOME WITH A GRAMMY

ynsmybestie that floral dress is doing wonders! she looks like a princess

ynsmymama PARENTS

——————————————————————————————

2022

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates, annetwist and 10 399 484 others

harrystyles Harry's House is out now. It wouldn't have been done without you, though. Thank you, my love.

view all 302 494 comments

yourinstagram I'm gonna go and scream from the rooftops

annetwist ♥️

harryupdates I CANNOT TAKE IT, HARRY. COME ON.

hArrysbtch you little btch. you make me cry with Matilda and then you post this? not cool, man. not cool.

ynsmybestie she's inspiration, she's supportive, she's loving.

ynsmymama wearing his shirt, drinking wine and playing guitar... man that's some happy living there

——————————————————————————————

ynupdates

liked by harryupdates and 34 430 others

ynupdates YN and Harry in Tokyo!

view all 1 302 comments

ynupdates YN's wearing a hoodie gifted by a fan!

hArrysbtch that thumb of his is not going down in the near future, is it?

harryupdates lovely couple

user23 they really don't care about all those rumours, do they?

⤷ harrysmylife what rumours again?

⤷ user23 apparently they have a child together since 2017!

⤷ harrysmoustache you want to tell me that they manage to hide their baby for five years? that's highly unlikely

⤷ ynsmybestie well, yn disappeared for a year and nobody saw her. i don't think it could be that unlikely for them.

——————————————————————————————

ynsmybestie

liked by harryupdates, ynupdates and 25 392 others

ynsmybestie PARENTS MIMICKING EACH OTHER

view all 930 comments

harryupdates oh, i've totally missed it!

ynupdates they have the same mind, that's it

hArrysbtch i love them so much, i can die now

stylesmybabie that's some iconic shit

——————————————————————————————

2023

ynupdates

liked by harryupdates, ynsmybestie and 78 229 others

ynupdates YN and HARRY at the 65th Grammy Awards! Once again they went home NOT empty handed! Harry with 3 and YN with 1 award!

view all 3 320 comments

harryupdates i am so proud of them!

hArrysbtch those bitches still weren't sitting at the same table

harrysmoustache they both look so stylish, i love it

ynsmybestie i love how she stood up and started clapping louder when people from the back were yelling that Beyonce should've won

⤷ ynupdates she knows what it feels like to be told those words all to well

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 103 229 others

harryupdates YN JOINED HARRY ON STAGE TONIGHT IN PALM SPRINGS, CA!

view all 5 320 comments

harryupdates WHAT IS HAPPENING?????

harryupdates THEY ARE SINGING STYLE AND MEDICINE TOGETHER

hArrysbtch what the fucck... are the people at the stadium alive?

ynupdates 'I left Judie back stage, I hope he's gonna be okay.' WERE THE RUMOURS REALLY TRUE?????

user45 i told you guys years ago and you didn't believe me...

hArrysbtch 'love, your mic is on' 'oh shit' i don't think they were ready to announce anything

harrysmoustache there's no way. this is one of my dreams

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 12 391 394 others

yourinstagram Judie and Teddy say hi to the World and they hope that you can be kind to them.

comments to this post have been limited

——————————————————————————————

ynupdates

liked by harrystyles, harryupdates and 56 492 others

ynupdates YN during Vigilante Shit tonight in Los Angeles! Not gonna lie, she's on another level tonight!

view all 3 301 comments

harryupdates HARRY is in the audience, maybe that's why!

hArrybtch harry, you lucky, lucky son of a lady dog

harrysmoustache she's so sexy

ynsmybestie after two pregnancies??? couldn't be me. she looks so fucking good

harrysmylife what if she's announcing something????

⤷ ynupdates do you think it's gonna be 1989?

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 56 492 others

harryupdates HARRY at YN's show tonight in Los Angeles!

view all 4 302 comments

hArrysbtch SHE JUST ANNOUNCED THE 1989 YN'S VERSION

ynsmybestie i love how he attended the concert where she's announcing that she's reclaiming the first album that she wrote about him

harrysmoustache he looks good

harrysmylife i need his reaction to yn's vigilante dane

user67 i was at the concert and let me tell you those cheeks were as red as a tomato, he enjoyed it!

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, ynupdates and 13 392 484 others

yourinstagram 1989 MY VERSION is out on 23rd of October. Thank you to whoever made that edit, it should've been the album cover from the start.

comments to this post have been limited

harrystyles I prefer the one that has you on the front and back. It gives it more value, I'd say.

⤷ yourinstagram Either way, I'm gonna frame it and hang it above our bed.

——————————————————————————————

voguemagazine

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 2 942 293 others

voguemagazine For the first time we tagged team and let our sweet little friends, Judie and Teddy interview their mom, YN YSN. "Firstly, you read that perfectly, Judie, I am so proud of you, baby. And to answer the question: together with dad, sorry, together with Harry we decided that your privacy and safety are ours priority. And then mummy forgot to turn off the mic! But we're happy that all of the fans and people are kind enough to respect your space and the boundaries we appointed." To read the article go to our link in bio!

view all 56 392 comments

harryupdates "Mummy, you look beautiful today!" Not Judie hyping up his mom! you little baby I love you so much!

ynupdates "please don't fall in the water, mummy. Daddy, daddy will you suffer mummy?" "Yes, I will safe mummy, baby." I LOVE BABIES

harrysmoustache and the painting was done by the whole family...

ynsmybestie i usually hate kids, but those two are so adorable

ynsmymama i m gonna put you all in my pocket and protect you with my life

hArrysbtch "when you are in the limelight as much as dad and mum, you want something to be just yours. that's you and Teddy for us. our little rays of sunshine." I AM CRYING

⤷ ynupdates i love how she talked with Judie as if he was grown. she seems to be a great mother

⤷ hArrysbtch i wouldn't expect anything else from her

——————————————————————————————

a/n: well, that definitely was a long one! let me know if you want any more from this pair!

[leclerc-s]

you're honor, i am innocent. HE is the guilty one!

series masterlist

isabella perez imagine getting called out by jimmy fallon on national television. could never be me.

lando norris fuck you, your third wheel is literally an influencer.

isabella perez YOU LEAVE LARRAY OUT OF THIS CONVERSATION BITCH!

bailey winters listen, nothing will ever beat the grammys

george russell and in his defense he now has a win.

max jones-verstappen he can now enter the reputation era he threatened back in february

ollie bearman rip lando nowins 2019-2024 you will be dearly missed.

gael perez welcome lando onewins 2024-???

lewis hamilton ollie has clearly been spending too much time with the perez siblings. get him away from them.

dulce perez no can do sir hamilton, he's one of us now. white boy is an honorary mexican.

ollie bearman i can't handle spicy food but YEAH!

bailey winters listen, my third wheel is lando's best friend, whom i happen to like more than lando.

lando norris nah, that's some bullshit.

bailey winters max has never sent me away to spend time with carlos.

carlos sainz how many more times do i have to apologize for that? bailey winters so many times sainz. so many.

zoya torres you people are such shit stirrers. i love it.

rhys jones should change the group chat name to that.

fernando alonso i think the one now is more accurate

esteban ocon rip multi-21, you were iconic while you lasted (almost 2 years)

sebastian vettel please don't start this up again.

daniel jones-ricciardo please do, it's been far too long since we've had a multi-21 inchident.

charles leclerc oh my god.

bailey winters pray for lando, we're hanging out with max again.

max jones-verstappen no, we'll pray for you.

baileywinters posted new stories

hanging out with weens are you tired maximus? will never understand brits, especially ones who wear hoodies when it's warm

maximus bailey, please come and get this man.

american (derogatory) i'm in the studio.

maximus that is a fucking lie!

one win wonder carlos wouldn't treat me this way.

american (derogatory) maybe you should date carlos instead.

maximus she is a singer lando, she will destroy you if you piss her off.

american (derogatory) up until a week ago i couldn't of written the alchemy about him because he'd never won a race.

one win wonder BUT I'VE HELD TROPHIES BEFORE

one win wonder and at least i made it to f1

american (derogatory) BOOOO!!! GET THIS GUY OUT OF HERE!!! HE SUCKS!!!

maximus and to think you could've had a win since 2021 but you fucked it up.

one win wonder CARLOS WOULD NEVER!!!

american (derogatory) GO BE WITH CARLOS BITCH!! WE DON'T WANT YOU HERE!!

maximus CLEARLY HE'S THE BETTER FRIEND AND LOVER! GO BE WITH HIM.

one win wonder THIS IS BULLYING!! YOU'RE BULLIES!! MONSTERS BOTH OF YOU

bailey winters i'm giving one boyfriend away to carlos sainz. please come pick him up. let it be known he comes with baggage (his gaming shit)

lando norris I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN IT!!

max fewtrell YOU RAT!

penelope trevino what the hell is going on?

lando norris they (bailey and max) were bullying me so i said carlos would never do that to me and now they're mad.

max fewtrell you're so fake lando.

carlos sainz i would never bully him. i love him.

penelope trevino oh my god. not this again.

lando norris you will never be able to separate true love

bailey winters match made in hell.

penelope trevio soulmates those two.

max fewtrell i have never known peace since they met.

carlos sainz we are not that bad. you people are just haters.

bailey winters famous last words sainz.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @applopie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @mypage-myfandoms @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @minmira95 @casperlikej @formulaonebuff @hopenshaw @ijustgomessitupx @hwalllllllelujah @doodlehunz @prongsvault

¡leclerc-s speaks! missed a day because i genuinely had no idea what i was going to write for this part.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[madreemeritus]

Did you know that Lon Chaney's Erik is 32 years old?

Yes. This goofy ass man is 32 years old.

So, the silent movie gives a few and undetailed comment about Erik's life before he became the Opera Ghost. A script cheating? Maybe, but it's a 1925 movie with 1 hour and 50 minutes so we excuse that.

Erik was born during the Boulevard Massacre, an event that happened on 23/2/1848, Paris. The main story takes place in 1881 as the original novel, so yeah, Erik is 32 years old and his birthday is 23th February. THIS SILLY MOTHERFUCKER IS ONLY 32 YEARS OLD.

I think 1925 Erik's backstory could be such an interesting thing to explore. He doesn't seem to have traveled to Persia and was born in Paris instead of Rouen, was accused of witchcraft and exiled on an Island by reasons not fully explained... i wonder what could be explored about him. Will i write a fanfiction about his past and a sequel to the 1925 movie?... HELL, YES.

[bookshelf-dust]

how people can change

steve harrington x gn!byers!reader

word count: 4,427

warnings: swearing, like one use of y/n, mentions of season one steve's bullshit, mentions of death, enemies to friends to more type beat

a/n: my very first *full* steve fic. look at us. who woulda thought? not me. i've been working on this since february. don't look at me, i know. i know. but i think i've gotten some sort of hold on how i'd like to write steve. some of the dialogue (season 2) isn’t mine. (also the title is a lyric from strange by celeste!) let me know what you think, okay? i love you. steve loves you. don't tell me if it's bad.

————

November 1984

The door slams behind you with a deafening thud, and you take the extra five seconds to lock it. You know, that action no one else in your family seems to be capable of performing. 

The house is quiet, and you step over the map of Hawkins sprawling over the hardwoods, careful not to damage Will’s work.

Your keys clang against the table, knocking into your mother’s ashtray. It’s dead quiet again, and you freeze at a subtle interruption in the silence. There’s a muffled sound coming from somewhere else in your home, and frankly you’ve had enough of everything the last couple of days. Which is why Joyce sent you home to get some sleep, to clear your head. 

There’s no denying that you have a soft spot for Will. He’s always been your buddy. And you love Jonathan, you do, and he’s got this sick ability to know what you’re thinking or feeling before you do, but he doesn’t need your protection like Will does. 

Will is your best friend. And he’s got one hell of a support system with you, Jonathan and your mom behind him. He deserves the world. You’ve always thought that. 

You quickly infer that it’s a walkie making the sound, based on the staticky crackle, the slightly muffled voice of whoever’s trying to get through from the other side.

Yours is off—you know it is—so it has to be Will’s. Jonathan was too good for a walkie-talkie.

You step down the hallway, pushing your younger brother’s bedroom door the rest of the way open. You scan the small area for it, listening.

“Code red! This is a code red! I repeat, this is a good red! Shit, is anyone there?”

You snatch up the device, extending the antenna.

“Dustin? Is that you?”

“Jesus christ! Where have you been?” Dustin exclaims, and you swear you can hear someone else interfering with his words.

“Sorry! I wasn’t home. What’s wrong?” You sit on the edge of Will’s bed. It’s so much comfier than yours. 

“It’s Dart! He’s, he’s just…you know what? It’s a long story. Where are you right now?”

This time you definitely hear another voice, and maybe even music.

“Dart? You kept him, right? I fucking knew it, Henderson! You’re so not a good liar.”

“That’s for sure.” You can’t place the voice, not over the walkie and over Dustin’s rambling, but you do catch that and it’s enough to leave you curious. 

The boy starts to argue back, but you cut him off. “Dustin, who are you with?”

“Uh,” he coughs, “Well you see, um…Steve Harrington. I’m with Steve Harrington.”

Dustin gets a severe eye roll from said partner-in-crime, but he brushes it off. 

“What?” You’re so confused. How did that even happen?

“I know! But everyone’s been MIA!”

“Oh my god,” you say, and Dustin can practically see you face-palming.

“Look,” he shoves a handful of rogue curls back under the brim of his hat. “Can you just meet up with us? The old junkyard?”

You push off of Will’s bed, and start walking through the house again, retrieving your things. So much for a nap or eating anything other than hospital Jell-O. What are you gonna say? Fuck no? 

“Yeah, yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank god,” Dustin breathes. “See you then. Over.”

You make sure to check the batteries in Will’s walkie before you go, and then you’re back in your car again, backing out just as aggressively as your mother (something you said you’d never do). 

————

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass you’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?” 

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Dustin goes quiet for a minute, watching each step he takes. The train tracks are old, and there are one too many loose nails for his liking. “So what’s Y/N got against you, man?”

Steve adjusts one of the gloves he’s wearing, trying not to think about the fact that he’s gonna smell like raw meat for who knows how long. “Uh, I don’t know, exactly. Never really talked to them before. But I’d assume it’s the–”

“The assholery?” Dustin interrupts. 

“Dude.”

“What? It’s true.”

“No, yeah, you’re right.” 

Dustin catches the slip in Steve’s attitude almost immediately. “Hey, they’re good, okay? I don’t think you’re a total dick, if that means anything. You’re trying and that’s what matters, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, we will. Thanks, Henderson.”

Dustin gives Steve a winning smile. This kid could rule the world, he thinks. 

“Anytime,” Harrington. He lifts his hand up, awaiting a fist bump that Steve returns without a second thought. 

————

You wander down the trail of raw meat you’ve found, not bothering to even question what's happening or where the meat came from. Frankly, you don’t really want to know. 

At the end of your path, you catch a glimpse of familiar curls, even if they are crushed under the red brim of a hat. 

“Dustin?”

The boy practically gives himself whiplash turning around to face you. 

“Holy shit, I’m so glad you’re here. It’ll be nice to have someone older than me who’s not a total pain in the ass.”

“Hey, I heard that.” 

The voice pulls your attention away from Dustin. When you look up, Steve Harrington is walking out of the biggest vehicle in this abandoned lot: a school bus. He’s wiping his hands on his jeans and pushing the ends of his sleeves up.

Dustin looks at you. “You guys have to be acquaintances at the least, right?”

You nod at him, feeling your face burn. If there’s a word for a less-than-acquaintance, you don’t know it. But that’s probably where your relationship with this boy lies. King Steve isn’t really someone you just miss. 

But yeah, you know him. You know he’s a dick. 

“Hi.” Steve pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and crosses his arms. 

“Hi.”

You only look at him for a moment before your eyes are back on Dustin. The younger boy notices the tension radiating from you, and honestly, he gets it. Steve Harrington wasn’t exactly the person he’d planned on spending his day with, but here he was. Desperate times call for desperate measures or whatever.

“So what are we doing?” You ask.

Dustin puts his thumbs underneath the straps of his backpack, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. “It’s a long story. Best if we talk while we work.”

You roll your eyes at him, but follow the thirteen-year-old wherever he wants to go. You’re not sure you could deny Dustin Henderson anything. 

————

You watch as Max, a young girl you’ve just met, stomps up the steps of the ladder you’ve rigged inside the mess of a bus that you’re camped out in. 

Your chest aches because what Dustin just said to her was rude, it was rude, and you can’t believe the two of them. You sit, arms crossed and leg shaking up and down, glaring at Steve.

You find it hard to believe that after everything you’ve learned tonight, about Dart, about Mews—which you’re never going to get over because you only visit Dustin’s house for his cat, never him—that this is what they’re doing now.

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Just show her you don’t care.” 

Dustin is pacing, hands deep in his pockets. “I don’t,” he breathes.

Steve winks. Watching the two of them is like watching a tennis match. You don’t even like tennis.

“Why are you winking, Steve?” 

You drag your hand down your face, sick of hearing this stupid ass conversation. When Dustin sits, the constant clink of metal where Steve keeps flicking his lighter open over and over starts to give you a headache. 

“Fuck, Steve, would you quit it already?” 

He scoffs, snapping the lid to his Zippo closed harder than he had been before. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re pissing me off, that’s my problem.”

Steve’s brow furrows. He doesn’t really understand the sudden need for aggression. 

“Is this really the time for you to be yelling at me?”

“Is this really the time for you to be a dick?”

Dustin jerks the antenna on his walkie down, clearly sick of the two of you. “Would you children stop bickering? This is a life or death situation we have going on here.”

“I’d prefer death,” you proclaim. 

Dustin glares at you. “I can arrange that if you’d really rather die, than act civil for one evening.”

“I think all of the civility,” you gesture vaguely with your hands, “went out the window when you asked me to come help fight demo-dogs.”

Steve snorts at your words, and you glare at him, an “oh, is that funny?” look on your face. 

Dustin rearranges the hat on his head, stuffing his curls underneath it once again. “Alright. I’m gonna go check on our status, you two…work shit out, okay?”

“Dude,” Steve starts, “I’m older than you. I don’t have to listen to your instructions.” He gestures vaguely with his hands.

Dustin flips him off, and that’s the only response Steve receives, leaving the two of you alone in the bus.

You remain quiet, hoping that if you do you might just disappear or dissolve into the cracked leather of the seat you're sitting on. Then there really wouldn’t be any form of confrontation.

Steve starts flipping the lid to his Zippo open and shut repeatedly again, but this time it doesn’t annoy you. In fact, it gives you something to focus on, and you know that if you had one you’d be doing the same exact thing. 

You wonder if he’s nervous. Or just bored. 

Your knee begins to bounce when you realize that he’s looking at you, that he’s stopped messing with the lighter. But you refuse to look back, staring instead at the way the moonlight glints off of the metal in between his fingers. 

“So what’s your problem with me?”

The way Steve says those words is so unlike the way he’s spoken the rest of the day, the way he’s behaved with Dustin, that you feel a pang in your chest. 

He sounds like he used to. 

“Did you even hear that? How conceded you just sounded? Like it’s funny that I might have a problem with you, king Steve?”

Obviously the use of his nickname hits a nerve. He shoves the lighter back into his pocket and sits up, tucking his hands under his knees. 

“Would you just cut the shit and tell me what your problem is then?”

You sit up, matching his stance. There’s a part of you that wants to piss him off. You ache for it. 

“You’re a dick, that’s my problem.”

Steve scoffs. 

“That’s it? Like I don’t already know that?”

You roll your eyes, oblivious to the fact that all three of the younger kids you’re with have their heads hung over the escape latch in the top of the bus, listening eagerly. 

“You think I’m just gonna put up with you, Harrington? I’m sorry, did you forget the slut shaming you and your shitty friends did publicly last fall? Because I sure as hell didn’t. I didn’t forget that you walk around like you fucking own the entirety of Hawkins because you’re swimming in daddy’s money. I didn’t forget that your girlfriend took my best friend away from me.”

You stop, and Steve just looks at you. You realize how heavy you’re breathing and subconsciously watch the steady movement of his chest, trying to match the pace and calm down. You hadn’t meant to get worked up like that. But sometimes…sometimes shit just happens. 

Steve sighs. Honestly he feels a little sick. And he could argue with you some more, say that you don’t know what you’re talking about, that that’s the past, that he’s getting better. But that feels shallow. It feels meaningless. Because he knows it’s true. That in worrying about only himself or getting the girl or impressing whoever, he hurt loads more people than he realized. 

It’s such bullshit, he thinks. This life he’s been living.

“You know, I’ve gotten plenty of earfuls about my actions from Dustin, I promise you that much. He can be very mean.” 

You snort, considering there’s absolutely no denying that. “He’s a smart kid.” 

Steve nods. He’s trying to think of a way to respond. He’s not good with words. 

“Look, I-I know I’m a dick, okay?” he starts. You decide to be brave and look at him. He seems to like that. The eye contact. It’s like it lets him know you’re paying attention. He doesn’t get a lot of that, not away from school. 

“The thing with Nancy,” he gestures with his hands, looking away from you and at the wall of the bus, like it hurts him to talk about or something. “I don’t know. My solution to not getting what I wanted was apparently to take it out on her. Tommy H. proposed the idea, and I didn’t stop it.”

“You know I cleaned it off, right?” he continues. 

You uncross your arms and sit up, criss crossing your legs instead. “No. I didn’t know that.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I broadcasted the information across Hawkins. Tommy and Carol don’t even know.”

Oh. The fact that they didn’t know tells you that he did it without needed recognition. He did it because he wanted to.

“I just—she saw it. And then there was the whole thing…”

You start to grin before you catch yourself, but he sees it. 

“It’s okay, you can laugh. I got the shit beat out of me.”

“You deserved it.”

He can’t argue with that. He won’t argue with it. “You’re right. I did. I said and did a lot that day that I regret.”

You nod, and then you’re both just looking at one another. It’s quiet out here, the same quiet you get at home, where you can hear the crickets, where you know there will be lightning bugs in the warmer months, free to roam uninterrupted by human activity. 

Steve pushes his hair from his forehead, and though he sees you track the movement of his hand, he doesn’t point it out.

“What did you mean about your friend?”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you hadn’t intended for that to come out, but being in such close proximity to Steve in this moment had just made everything spill out. 

You try to wave him off. “That was a whole thing. I didn’t mean to spill my guts like that.”

“No, it’s okay, I want to know. If you want to tell me, that is.”

You nod, chewing at your thumb nail now. Steve has the urge to reach forward and pull it free so you won’t hurt yourself, but he doesn’t. Instead he stays still and quiet, watching you contemplate a while. 

Eventually he decides to keep going. 

“I’m trying, you know,” he tells you. You look up and it gives him that little push to continue speaking. “To be better. I know you think I’m a total dick, and you’re not wrong, I know that, but I really am trying to be better. To be a good influence on those little shits.” He quirks his head upwards where he knows all three of his charges are eavesdropping, without a doubt. 

You take a second and look at him. Really look at him. He seems to carry himself differently, though it’s not something you’d notice if you weren’t looking. He’s not dressed like his mommy picked out his outfit. He looks messy. The mess draws you in. 

“I believe you. And I-I know I shouldn’t stereotype you, but it’s just—”

“I am a walking stereotype,” Steve grins. So do you.

“Yeah. I guess so. But I believe that you’re working on it. I suppose some people don’t remain assholes forever.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, though a little distracted. You still haven’t told you what you meant, but that’s not what’s really bugging him. 

There’s this pull inside him. This longing for a friend. A real friend. Not someone he knows just because their dads were up each other's asses, or someone he just sits with at lunch because they’re of the same status quo. 

And he just feels so alone right now. What with Nancy, this girl he thought he was in love with and everything, but clearly she doesn’t feel the same. What’s he even supposed to do with that? Did he ever actually know anything about her? 

It doesn’t matter. 

What matters is that he’s sitting here with you, hanging out with thirteen-year-olds and hiding from creatures Steve’s brain can’t even begin to decipher. 

“Barb,” you say. Steve panicked a little internally at the mention of her name, considering. But he keeps his eyes on you, focused on each word that leaves your mouth. “She was my best friend, in middle school that is.”

He nods. Oh. Oh. 

“We were still close when we got to high school, had a little group and everything, right? And even though high school kinda fucks everything up, I didn’t want to believe that would happen to our little partnership, you know?” 

He nods again, trying his best to pay attention. He’s trying harder than he ever has in school. He probably shouldn’t ever say that out loud.

“Anyways, she was my best friend. She was all I knew, and then we got to lovely Hawkins High, and she met Nancy. Nancy and I never really clicked, even when we tried. I guess it’s because I’ve always thought she was a pretentious bitch—sorry, Steve—but I don’t know. We just fell apart after that.”

“So Barb had Nancy and I had…no one. And the way my brain saw it was Nancy took my best friend from me, and then Nancy started seeing you, and so I saw those two from across the cafeteria, lounging with the popular kids. With you. And then she died.”

Steve is looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. Like he’s in awe of you. And it’s not anything negative. It’s warm. Understanding. Like something you’ve said has straightened something out in his brain, sorted something he couldn’t figure out on his own. 

“S-so it was like we took her from you, in a way?” he asks. 

“Yeah. And you didn’t. God, you didn’t. But it just felt like this…” you trail off, searching for the right words.

“Domino effect?”

“Yeah! Yeah. Exactly. And it’s not your fault, not at all. But I guess I already saw you as some dickish rich kid and that gave me another reason to stay the fuck away from you. And now that I’m saying it out loud I realize how awful it sounds because people change, you know?”

“No, I get it. I’ve been an asshole, and I’m sure I still am—Dustin can attest to that—but there are rich assholes that don’t change or probably won’t ever change. I know a few of them.”

You go quiet again. Steve doesn’t want you to stop talking. He’s starting to think he likes the sound of your voice. 

“It’s good that you’re changing, Steve. I’m sorry I said you were such a dick.”

A breathy laugh leaves his throat. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m sorry for…everything.”

“Maybe we can make a truce or something. Start over. It’s not like we really know each other that well anyhow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool. Whatever you want.” He means that. He thinks he’d do whatever you wanted him to. 

“Okay. Maybe we can just try and figure it out.”

“I’d like that,” Steve says. He stops himself from proclaiming that he wants to try and fix this with you. Because you’re listening to him. You’re not mad. He doesn’t want you to disappear on him after this. 

You give him a small smile and he swears he might cry. Not that that feeling lasts. 

“Hey!” Dustin is leaning down into the bus, hands clasped together. “I’m so glad we’ve got this handled, but we’ve got a code red, so let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

————

June 1985

The door to the back room swings open, a frazzled boy rushing in. You drop your candy wrapper on the table, and Robin keeps talking about the girl that you missed coming in this morning. She was “such a babe.”  

“Hello?” Steve stands in front of the both of you, hands on his hips. You have to fight back a laugh. 

Your eyes find Steve’s immediately, and you swear they soften, but maybe you’re imagining it. You nudge Robin’s leg where your foot is propped up on one of the supports under her chair. 

She stops flailing and looks up, seeing Steve’s hand raised where he’d been about to snap to get her attention. She quirks a brow. “Don’t you snap at me, Harrington! This is important shit.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Could you two come and help me? I’m dying out here!”

It’s one of the hottest days of the year, and Scoops has had a line since it opened at ten. 

You look at your watch. “My shift doesn’t start for…fifteen minutes.” He rolls his eyes at you, though the gesture is void of any malice it could possibly hold. 

“Yeah, well this is supposed to be my break, so get out there, Buckley!”

She stands, though she’s pouting. “Come on.”

“You took the job,” he says, shoving her through the door. Robin gives him a look that you can’t see, but you can practically feel it from across the small room. 

Steve lets out an exaggerated sigh, ripping off the hat he’s been wearing and throwing it on the table in front of you. 

You watch him rummage through a bag before he emerges from its depths with a banana and throws himself down in the chair across from you, lifting your leg up from where you’d moved it to occupy the seat Robin had abandoned. His hand is warm on the bare skin of your calf, and he shifts the chair some, laying your leg across both of his. 

“Steve.”

“Huh?” He peels the banana, aggressively fast actually, and rips off a chunk, popping it into his mouth. 

“Why do you have a banana?” 

He meets your eyes. “Snack, duh.” He chews, and then gestures at the closed window. “Been working up a sweat out there I think I deserve a break.”

You grin at him, and he feels like he might hit the floor. 

“Want some?” Steve pulls off a chunk and holds it out to you. 

“Did you wash your hands?”

He gasps, mid-chew, and forces himself to swallow. “D-did I—yes, I washed my hands, mom, I’m not four.”

“Eh,” Robin’s voice breaks your little bubble. She’s pulled the window open–that way she can eavesdrop– propping herself up on her elbows. 

That makes you laugh, and when you smile your cheek is full of banana and Steve swears something is breaking inside of him. 

“Gang up on me then why don’t you,” he says, handing you the last piece he’s got left. He tosses the peel in the trash, “what do you want anyhow, Robin?” 

“Your break is up, and her shift has started. Let’s get to slinging ice cream, shitheads!”

You wipe your hands on your shorts and hop up. Steve doesn’t move, just looks at you. 

“C’mon, Steven. It’ll be lunch sooner than later.”

He grins. His eyes look tired and you wonder if he slept any last night. He told you once recently that he doesn’t always sleep well, that sometimes he has to listen to tapes in order to keep his head from being so busy, to keep the thoughts from being so loud. 

Steve has told you a lot since last fall. There’s a significant bit more that you know that’s more than what he’s given Robin, but you know he’ll let her in. He just needs the time. 

Though sometimes you think he might be giving you everything. The parts of himself he’s never shown anyone else. Because you’ve been such a good listener, and Steve’s never really had that before. 

He wishes he had the balls to tell you more. But he can’t fuck it up this time. Not with you. You’re too good.

Steve is your best friend now. You know that. He knows it.

If yourself from a year ago could see you now, she’d probably knock your fucking teeth in. But he’s just so much more than you thought. You’re not sure you’ll ever forgive yourself for not thinking there could be more in him, though he’s told you not to be upset. You’ve told him the same when he berates himself for not having paid you more attention in school.

It’s the past. You can’t live there. And today, you’re scooping ice cream for pre-sticky kids, for shitty pay, but it doesn’t matter because you have him. You have Robin. 

You stick out your hand, and Steve takes it without a second thought. His palm engulfs yours, skin warm and a little calloused. 

“We can watch whatever you want tonight.”

He squeezes your hand. You and Robin are supposed to have a sleepover with him tonight. He suggested he sleep in a guest room and you two have his bed, but Robin said she needs to be cuddled. You said you’re not letting him sleep anywhere but his bed. 

“I thought you wanted to watch Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

“I always wanna watch that. But you can pick first, Stevie.”

Stevie. His stomach flips at that. You don’t let it out often, but when you do it’s like Steve might just die right there. 

He straightens, deal clearly made, and you pull him up–not that you need to. 

You push through the door with him, and immediately regret it. It’s like the soccer moms can smell your fear, and you know it. 

“Breathe,” Steve says. “Dustin’s here.”

He is. The entire party. That you can deal with. 

You think you could deal with an absurd line and angry mothers for the rest of your life if it meant assembling Dustin and Lucas’ weird orders. Even if you have to endure Will’s questioning looks and his pleas that you bring some ice cream home. If you have to listen to Robin’s word vomit.

If it meant spending time with Steve, you’d do it. 

God, how shit changes.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[werepuppy-steve]

february fic rec

a monthly fic rec series where i try to read every fic on my tbr

<- january -> march ▸ more fic recs ▸ my ao3

steve has nightmares - M, 2.3k, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: established relationship, panic attacks, 54321 grounding method

It’s not like the nightmares are, y’know: something new. What’s new is the way he wakes up from them. It’s still a gasping thing, with his heart shot up past the base of his throat more near his tonsils or some shit, somewhere he can almost taste it like metal and the sour tang of fear as it rattles and shakes and pounds, like his chest’s caving in on itself and that’s all normal, that’s all stuff he knows and— “-ve you,” but now there’s a sound on the periphery of his awareness, sneaking in the almost-nonexistent space between his hammering pulse but he grabs for it, because something in him knows it’s important: the most important. He follows it in between the beating, risks getting crushed if he fails here, too, and— “Love you,” Steve hears more clearly, all of a sudden, and he feels hands on him, running smooth and swift courses up and down his arms; then he also feels lips, he can feel the words as motion against his body almost more than he can pick out the sound: “love you, love you, love you,” and now he knows it, now that his vision clears as it adjusts to the darkness and he sees him: Eddie. - Or: Steve has nightmares. Eddie talks him through.

Stolen - T, 2.7k, complete @penny00dreadful

tags: secret relationship, hospital heist, protective steve harrington

When Steve arrives back at Eddie's hospital room, only to be met by a doctor telling him that Eddie had suddenly died within the last ten minutes, Steve finds that very hard to believe. OR Steve steals Eddie back.

eternity - T, 2k, complete @oh-stars

tags: love confessions, fluff

“I need to come over tonight,” he whispers to Robin. “Eddie wants to talk.”  “Oh,” Robin says, cupping the back of Steve’s head briefly. “I’ll have all your favorites ready for you when you get to my house.”  Steve doesn’t have to say anything or force a smile. She gets it.

Love Is What Makes You Brave - G, 3.1k, complete @penny00dreadful

tags: break-up/make-up, getting back together, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort

Should he be here? No. Was he going to continue to be here for as long as he could take it? Hell yeah. OR Eddie found out Steve is getting married. And now he's idling in the church car park.

Safe Haven - M, 2/2, complete @sidekick-hero

tags: werewolf steve, hurt/comfort, getting together

Eddie finds a hurt wolf in the woods and takes him home. He has no idea that there is more to this particular wolf than it seems.

In Sickness and Health - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, older steddie, hurt/comfort, discussions of seizures

Eddie has learned to revel in quiet afternoons, even when he’s alone. The way the sunshine bathes the apartment’s living room carpet—his and Steve’s apartment. Their cat, Poncho, settled heavy and warm in his lap. A chilled glass of southern iced tea and a plate of crackers and sliced cheese. The television volume on low. Book open and set on the arm of the couch. It’s good, the quiet. Yet, it breaks the moment the front door opens. He didn’t hear Steve stick his key in the lock. But he definitely hears his annoyed groans and huffs. The slam of the door, most likely shut with his hip. A muffled, “Damnit”, when he drops his keyring on the floor.

City of Stars (Are You Shining Just For Me?) - T, complete @steviewashere

tags: coming out, love confessions, hurt/comfort

Steve and Eddie’s hang outs tend to land them on their asses at one another’s houses. But tonight, the sky is clear and the moon is out and everything seems to be painted by the soft glow of stars. Because Steve’s parents are home. And Wayne’s got the day off, so he’s asleep early in the living room at the Munson’s. Neither of that will stop them, though. Steve picks Eddie up thirty minutes before the sun has to set, a little Melvald’s bag in the backseat filled with food and a soft throw blanket.

Perfect Timing - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, domestic fluff, future fic

It’s funny, Steve thinks, that he knows the way in which Eddie’s emotions express when he comes through the front door of their shared space. They began renting an apartment in Chicago just a year or so after getting together. Tail end of 1986 meant sharing a bed and house by August of 1987. And it’s theirs. Filled with miscellaneous clutter—a bookshelf brimmed with books, coffee table layered with Sports Illustrated and Heavy Metal magazines, dice and keys and Topps baseball cards, and picture frames they dust and drawings from Eddie’s sketchbooks and ‘failed’ art projects of Steve’s that Eddie thought were masterpieces. Point is, they’ve made it their home. And they started their lives with a breath of fresh air. And now it’s 1995, depending on one another’s reactions, this all may just crumble at their feet.

feel the bigger thing - T, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: established relationship, married steddie, domestic fluff, rockstar eddie

“We don’t need a second house,” Steve points out, smooshed against Eddie’s sternum. “We can get the pool,” Eddie added with the audible equivalent of his brow-wiggle and okay, fine, that’s a good point, because Steve may not have really used the one at his parents’ after, well, everything, but he…does kinda miss having one. Now that the memories are distant enough in both time and miles that he doesn’t see standing water deeper than four feet and start fucking hyperventilating anymore. So…yeah. Compelling argument regarding a pool.

fever - E, 3.8k, complete @maxinemaxmayfield

tags: transmasc eddie, first time, virgin eddie, strap-ons, top eddie, bottom steve

“Shit,” Eddie groans, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. His hips buck up, and his imagination runs away with that, thinking about Steve, balancing over Eddie’s hips, riding him as hard and fast as he can manage, delicious thighs shaking while Eddie thrusts up into him.  God, he wants it more than anything. There’s just one problem.  Eddie currently lacks the, uh… Equipment.

so glad i found you - T, 1.4k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: established relationship, steddie dads, modern au

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe. He’d been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn’t technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah’s emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

An Extra Hand - E, 5.2k, complete proprioception

tags: blow jobs, dick piercings, smoke buddies, steve being a slut for eddie's dick

"You have a dick piercing?" Steve finally sputters. "Oh," Eddie says. "Yeah." Steve thinks he recovers pretty quickly from that. (That's the only thing he has going for him in Hawkins: he gets back up.)

take the call - T, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: established relationship, married steddie, rockstar eddie, future fic

“Eddie?” He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth. “Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.” “This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but— “She found the phone at a car crash?” So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew. Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

Angel - E, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, insecurities, handjobs

His eyes track different spots in the room. The lines on the wall. Bowling pin. Car picture. Dresser with the drawers haphazardly still open. Eddie saunters over and gently closes them, even stops by Steve’s hamper and picks up the other thrown down clothes. And then he notices it out of the corner of his eye, Steve’s full length mirror. It breaks his heart. The sheet covering what would be his reflection. And on the top right corner? A little sticky note, reading: You’ll hate what you see. Everybody does. Don’t remove. 

Dream Come True - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: married steddie, future fic, steddie dads

He may have got the quiet life. And Eddie may have lived out his simple dream. He’d been a rockstar for a little bit in the late nineties and early two-thousands, retiring before they got married. But…Steve hasn’t lived his dream. Eddie hates that he thinks it’s being held back from him. Eddie’s determined to heal that hurt inside him.

Have You Done Your Homework? - E, 7/7, complete SameShipDifferentFont

tags: first time bottoming, daddy kink, bottom steve, virgin steve, sex toys

“I…I want to.” Steve admitted. “You want to?” “I-Yeah, I do, I just…I don’t know how.” he flushed furiously, snatching his hand away to rest at Eddie’s open inner thigh. Eddie caught his ducking head before he could hide against his shoulder, smiling softly as Steve met his eyes in embarrassment, but Eddie looked mischievous. “Just treat it like a pussy, baby, can’t go far wrong.” Or...Famous ladies man, Steve Harrington, is reduced to a blushing virgin when it comes to sex with Eddie. He struggles with the anxiety of trying something new, but Eddie is patient, and gives him...assignments. Steve explores his own body, learns what he likes, ways he can please Eddie, until he can attempt his main goal...giving his virginity to Eddie Munson. If he has the nerve to go through with it.

Honey and Tea. - E, 5.7k, complete daggerandrosie

tags: omegaverse, accidental voyeurism, masturbation, omega steve, alpha eddie

It was all just a innocent silly joke, nothing much, Steve just wanted a good easy laugh. It was late, dark and silent at the trailer park, no one in sight and Eddie's nightstand light was on. Steve would just pop he's head up the window and, hopefully, scare the shit out of his friend. But he's the one that ended up being spooked. Maybe you shouldn't be peeping through people's privacy after dark.

fallen king - T, complete @sp0o0kylights

tags: post s2, pre steddie, eddie munson's tabletop sermons, valentines day

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done.  With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything.  He was over it.  If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it.  (If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.)  “This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

soothed - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: injury, hurt/comfort, pre steddie, protective steve

Steve moves to drag Eddie inside, but drops his hands when Eddie flinches away, nearly stumbling down to the concrete. He lets go of his elbows, which are now decorated with fine small crescents, and shields himself. There’s a couple smaller, red bruises decorating his wrists. As if somebody grabbed him. Steve fumes at the sight. “Eddie,” Steve breathes, “why don’t you come inside?” He steps away from the door, letting it sit open and waiting. On shuffled, hesitant feet, Eddie comes in. His eyes dart around the room before they land back on Steve. Immediately, some of the tension and fear in his big brown eyes falls away. Instead, a layer of relief and gratitude seems to fill him. Enough that his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, Eds,” Steve can only coo.

pretty pets once were wild - E, 5k, complete kravioli

tags: werewolf steve, vampire eddie, monsterfucking, sub top steve, dom bottom eddie, puppy play, breeding kink

The annual Munson ball has been a celebration of all monsterkind living in Hawkins for nearly 600 years. When Steve is dragged along to this year’s celebration during the full moon, he gets a lot more than he signed up for. or werewolf!steve and vampire!eddie’s mating

i'm keeping you in sight - T, 2.2k, complete teiresias

tags: fluff, pining, taller eddie, getting together

When there’s no immediate reply, he pauses for a moment, seemingly taking in the situation. “D’you want help with that, Stevie?” -- Eddie has the gall to get taller.

The Boy Who Swallowed a Star - M, 9.9k, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: howl's moving castle au, getting together, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, platonic stobin, robin as calcifer (bc that deserves its own tag)

The Wizard Munson is supposed to inspire fear and awe. A trickster, a devil, a power unmatched. Blah blah blah; Steve only sees the gangly boy who almost fell off the roof of the Harrington’s tailoring shop, trying and failing to be stealthy and mysterious when Steve was not yet ten—so where whispers follow down alleyways about the dreaded terrors of the Wizard? Steve really just sees the goofball. His Eddie. “Come with me, Stevie,” Eddie doesn’t even pause for pleading, dives right in and begs him as if Steve needs convincing; "if nothing else, come with me so I know you’re safe, so I can do what needs doing without splitting half of me always just worrying. Save me from scrying out endlessly, to make sure you’re okay.” Steve’s heart thumps painful, pathetic: pure and unvarnished in a way he thinks is only possible when Eddie’s nearby. Only possible for Eddie, at all. Which means the answer’s wholly obvious—the war’s getting worse, this is his Eddie—only one response was ever really on the table: “Alright.”

crawl home to you - E, 5.2k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: temporary character death, kas eddie, vampire eddie, soulmates, getting together, blood drinking

Steve should never have kissed him. He knew that now. While Eddie was dying, bleeding out on the ground of their version of Hell, the only thing Steve felt he could do to help him was kiss him. It was quick, just a peck on the lips, lingering only for a moment. Their eyes never even closed. Steve wanted to take in every remaining moment that Eddie had. There was nothing else he could do, just hold him, try to whisper comfort that may not have even been heard.

it's not ever what it looks like - M, 3.2k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, established relationship, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, implied/suspected cheating (nobody is actually cheating on anybody don't worry)

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like…well. Steve knew that look because it’d only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy. The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Feels Good (Oh To Be Alone With You) - E, 1.3k, complete @theheadlessphilosopher | th3d3adboy

tags: transmasc eddie, cock warming, light dom/sub, cunnilingus, handjobs

Steve had never felt the way he did when he and Eddie were together. He'd always considered himself a pretty experienced guy, sexually speaking, but with Eddie things were different.

if devotion is a river, then i'm floating away - E, 6.4k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: post-s4, getting together, drummer steve, corroded coffin, semi-public sex

“So when you said someone was paying you to get lessons for the past six months, you weren't talking about some middle schooler interested in doing marching band?” Eddie asks, slamming the fridge door harder than necessary. Sorry, Gareth’s mom. “Nope,” Gareth says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “You’re pure evil,” he says. “Why is Gareth evil and why is Steve Harrington in the garage?” Jeff asks, coming into the kitchen. or, Eddie has feelings about Steve filling in as their drummer

i'm a man (without conviction) - T, 2.1k, complete lateralparallel

tags: hopper pov, established steddie, protective hopper, character study, eddie antagonizes hopper on purpose

Steve Harrington is not his kid. Hopper already has three, and he’s not looking to add any more. He’s sure of this fact about ninety nine percent of the time, the remaining one percent being when he’s faced by Harrington’s big, clear eyes and his perpetually quivering laugh. Hopper is not a great dad. He knows this, and he knows he should remember this, but Steve Harrington has a way of making him think highly of himself in the paternal department.

Drunk Dialing - E, series, WIP FinalMoondragon

tags: drunk bootycall, phone sex, light dom/sub, bratty steve, semi-public masturbation

Steve was drunk. Very drunk. He knew it. Robin definitely knew it. That’s why she was sitting on his back, pinning him to the floor, trying to pry his hands out from under his body. Her pajama pants were bunched up around her knees, her sock clad foot near his face. “Steve! Give-It-To-Me!” she said through gritted teeth. Or: Steve Harrington has a brilliant idea and Robin fails at stopping him.

cassette tapes and ticket stubs. - M, 5.2k, complete @thefreakandthehair | througheden

tags: modern au, mutual pining, fluff, coffee shops, record stores, baseball fan steve, getting together, accidental dates

“Well, you said you’re 90% sure you’re getting stood up. And I’m 100% sure that I’ve already been stood up. I know baseball isn’t really your thing but,” Steve wiggles the tickets between his fingers. “Road-rip?” “One condition,” Eddie says, pursing his lips. “I’m giving you a free ticket and day in Chicago but sure, let’s negotiate,” Steve teases. Grabbing his empty cup, Steve follows his lead as he tosses it in the trash. Eddie spins back around, heart clattering in his chest as he comes almost literally face to face with Steve who’s close enough that Eddie can smell the cologne he’d dabbed on for his date. Warm, spicy, Steve’s signature scent. Eddie hates that he knows that. When he finds his tongue again, he shakes his head and smiles, signing his own fucking death warrant for the day. “If we’re doing your date, we’ve gotta do mine, too.” Or, Eddie and Steve are set up on blind dates by Robin and Chrissy. They both get stood up. Or, do they?

wednesdays - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: rockstar eddie, pining, fluff, getting together

Steve stops in his tracks, all thoughts gone from his head as he does a double take at the magazine rack near the checkout. And yeah, he knows that Corroded Coffin is popular. Hell, he’s seen Eddie’s face on the same rack at least five times before. But never like this. The picture on the front page is taken at a lower angle, with Eddie clad in leather pants and a tight mesh black shirt that might be a crop top, but Steve can’t tell with the way Eddie’s guitar is covering his midriff, hands flying over the frets, showing off silver rings glimmering under the stage lights including the one that Steve helped Dustin pick out for him as a celebratory gift. But as Steve’s eyes trace over Eddie’s bare arms and the stark black tattoos, he’s led to wild curls perfectly framing Eddie’s face which stares down at the cords, mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows knitted together in concentration in a way that makes Steve feel weak in the knees. And Steve’s suddenly hit with the question: Why didn’t anyone tell him that Eddie was hot???

to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die) - T, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: limbo/near death experiences, light angst, they're in el's mind palace, getting together, fluff, happy ending

“Oh fuck, not you, too.” Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here— “What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face. “This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“ “I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and— He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out. That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

if devotion is a river, then i'm floating away - E, 6.4k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: drummer steve, post-s4, corroded coffin, getting together, handjobs, blowjobs

“So when you said someone was paying you to get lessons for the past six months, you weren't talking about some middle schooler interested in doing marching band?” Eddie asks, slamming the fridge door harder than necessary. Sorry, Gareth’s mom. “Nope,” Gareth says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “You’re pure evil,” he says. “Why is Gareth evil and why is Steve Harrington in the garage?” Jeff asks, coming into the kitchen. or, Eddie has feelings about Steve filling in as their drummer

Tearing the Buttons Right off Your Dress - E, 5k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: babygirl steve, roleplay, steve in panties and lingerie, established relationship

After spending the day celebrating with friends, Steve has one final birthday gift for Eddie Eddie's pretty sure this just became his favorite birthday ever

[littlemissclandestine]

Why I think Russell Adler is going to make a comeback in COD 2024

WARNING⚠️: Contains spoilers for Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War and Call of Duty: Black Ops 2

Disclaimer: This is all just speculation on my behalf of course. I've just tried piecing stuff together for fun because Russ is one of my fave BO characters even though he's a bitch but i need more Adler content stat. <33

Let's get into it peeps. HEAR ME OUT.

Buckle up. Gonna be one hell of a ride folks 🤪

We'll start off with some random/background info.

Russ was born on February 12th 1937 so that would make him 53/54 in the Gulf War era. This actually isn't that old because if you think about it, Woods was about to turn 51 in 1981 during the Cold War campaign. What's a few more years?

We last saw Adler in action post-campaign in Warzone 1.0 cinematics but we've been kept in the dark about Adler's whereabouts post-1984 (after being brainwashed and killing Stitch LOL).

This meanie in a beanie wasn't forgotten about, oh no. He appears in the new cinematic intros on startup for both MWII (2022) and MWIII (2023). See below:

He was also featured twice in the 20 year anniversary video for Call of Duty whereas COD Ghosts didn't even get an appearance (ouch): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eL_w5HmxsPI

I personally believe Adler was a great addition to the Black Ops roster and is essentially the new Black Ops 'cover boy' now. Would be such a shame and a missed opportunity not to include a character like him in the upcoming COD. One who is morally grey, does whatever he deems necessary to get the job done - a bit like Cpt. Price in MW. Got the COD fans riled up about him brainwashing and pulling the trigger on Bell too - he's already got the spotlight in both a good and bad way.

Now, let's explore my main reasoning as to why I think Mr Shades 2.0 is most likely coming back in late 2024...

🎖️First up: Gulf War mission list 🔫

Here are some of the campaign missions that will be featured in Black Ops Gulf War. Obviously, this is subject to change, however, going off what we have, look closely...

Credit: @MWIIINTEL on Twitter/X

Safehouse guys...SAFEHOUSE. Takes you right back to Cold War, doesn't it? Ugh the potential.

🕵️ Next up: The campaign for COD 2024 will dive into the CIA's role/the Black Ops timeline 🕘

I took the following snippet from this official article.

From this, we know there will be a huge focus on the CIA and who's a CIA clandestine special officer? Mhm, you guessed it - Russell Adler.

Now, according to the events of BO2, it's evident which characters have the possibility of returning out of our original BO trio - Jason Hudson, Frank Woods and Alex Mason.

💫 Alex is presumed dead after Frank shot him so he's out the picture in '90/91 until 2025 when they canonically meet again.

🪵 Woods would be in his 60s during this time too so I'll let you decide whether that's too old for him to be in GW.

Edit: Woods got SPAS-12'd in the kneecaps on Dec 20th 1989 by Raul Menendez so uh...yeah

🧊 Hudson died on Dec 20th 1989 at the hands of Raul Menendez.

Feel free to check out this website (Call of Duty Wiki) for an outline of the events after CW to remind yourself. Here's a link to the Black Ops timeline from there.

➡️ Gulf War being a direct sequel to Cold War and what that could mean 💉

That brings me onto the rest of the safehouse crew. Since GW is a direct sequel to CW, it would make sense for some characters to carry over if possible:

We, as the player/Bell, get to choose whether Park or Lazar die (or both lovebirds) in 'End of the Line'. It's highly unlikely they'll return unless the devs make one decision canon maybe.

There could be a chance we see Sims again given his bond with Adler (Da Nang etc.), his age (late 40s in GW) and his status (alive).

That leaves the man himself, Russ. Everything from his age to the fact he's CIA and was the deuteragonist in COD 2020's campaign just makes sense for him to have at least a lil cameo or even a larger role, don't you think?

📱Finally: Hints from official posts 🔎

This post from Call of duty's official Instagram account kind of sealed the deal for me.

Oh lookie - they dropped syringe-lover's famous line in a zombies post. Why would COD just drop it so casually like that without a reason and years after CW came out? They could've said absolutely anything else but no, this was purposeful.

And that's all for this episode guys and gals!

Thank you for reading!! 🫂

Do what you will with all this information but I have concluded in my silly little brain that scarface is coming back.

How he's only in one game is beyond me. Won't get a character like him ever again. Seems like a cliché war dude at first glance but dig a little deeper into the details of the CW campaign, peel back the layers and get into his psychology and WOWZERS.

Am I delusional? Most definitely.

But the possibility he might be returning...that little bit of hope is enough for me and i won't shut up about it.

This will age horribly if he isn't in GW. Forgive me for feeding your delusions too in that case. Please?

What are your thoughts? Feel free to share them! 😊

------

EDIT: Y'ALL IT'S HAPPENING 😭😭

[wonuwrites]

OT13 Seventeen’s Reaction to you being a Swiftie during “The Tortured Poets Department” release date.

A/N: It’s been an emotional 24ish hours because Taylor Swift gave us 31 fucking new songs and they all hurt so good. Expect some angsty things from me based off some of these songs soon LOL. Side note, this wont be perfect because it’s 1:30 am and I’m feeling feelings. I hope y’all enjoy regardless.

Warning: minor angst, major fluff, mentions some alcohol stuff, The Tortured Poets Department is an emotional roller coaster and has some heavy topics. Listen at own risk but also hear the tea LMAO

P.S dedicating this to @lavnderwonu bc yup. #wow

✫ S Coups

Seungcheol walked through the door at 2 am and saw you sitting at the kitchen table with a worn out look on your face. He noticed in front of you, ice cream that had been half melted waiting for you to take another bite. He knew that you were waiting up for Taylor Swifts new album and from what he had heard from you, this potentially would be the saddest album to date. Yes, even more sad than Red. He stood there for a while unsure what to say which made you look up at him.

“Babe… she released a double album. We’ve been clowning a double since 1989 era back in 2014 and she finally did it.”

He raised an eyebrow at this and sat next to you, “well thats good right? Your clowning was finally successful?”

You scoffed before rubbing your mouth and looking him in the eyes, “I mean yeah, but like. It’s so fucking sad. I can’t believe he did this to her.”

Seungcheol just softly smiled while taking the spoon from your hand so he could scoop himself some ice cream as well. He didn’t know much about Taylor lore but he did think she was a talented artist. “Well I got a few hours, show me the album.”

✫ Jeonghan

Jeonghan found your love for Taylor to be precious. So when he found out in February she was releasing a new album he asked if there was anything he could do to help prepare you for the album release.

That’s when you decided to do a Swiftie 101 with Jeonghan and told him all the lore behind whats been going on since the Reputation Era to now. At first he was skeptical at having to need to know that much background information but he learned to love watching you talk about something you cared about so passionately.

When it was time for the album to be released, he was ready. He wrote down questions he had while you both listened to the album because he didn’t want to interrupt your experience of listening to the song for the first time. He held your hand when “So Long London” came on and coo’d when you cried during “loml” while wiping a tear from your eye. He made a mental note to thank Taylor Swift if he ever met her for being able to give his partner and him a bonding experience.

✫Joshua

Hell, Joshua was with you on the couch and clowning with you while watching the Grammys. You were positive Reputation (Taylor’s Version) was going to be announced at the Grammys and tbh Joshua believed your assumptions were right as always.

When Taylor announced her new album instead of Reputation TV, both of your mouths dropped. It was a new era. You both then decided to start planning on spending time with each other that night. He knew he was pushing it just a bit because Seventeens album was coming out the next week but he also knew he wanted to be there for you in case it was emotional. Which, was pretty much a given it was going to be because it was called “The Tortured Poets Department.”

When the day finally came, you both made friendship bracelets and ate some snacks while enjoying the mastery of her pen. You both found the album to be extremely well done.

✫Jun

Jun was not sure what to expect when you had become a bit distant the last few weeks. You were talking to him less and less and it honestly was causing him some concerns. Did he do something wrong? Were you dying? Were you okay?

He decided to do what anyone would do and come over unannounced with flowers and your favorite Take Out. He was not expecting to see you sobbing on the couch with smeared eyeliner and mascara as you were reading the lyrics to a new song off of Taylor’s new album called “The Prophecy.”

You didn’t notice Jun standing there awkward as your heart broke into a million pieces as you thought about how you were before you met Jun. You were so blessed to have him in your life but you just felt sick that Blondie was feeling that way. Once the song ended you finally saw Jun and started crying harder and that’s when it hit him.

Album release day.

Similar thing had happened after Midnights dropped and you heard “You’re On Your Own Kid.” He then brought over your food and listened while you babbled to him about “The Prophecy” and why it was the saddest song you had ever heard.

✫Hoshi

“Hey Soonyoung I have a question for you,” you asked him while spinning Ramen around in your bowl. This made your boyfriend look up worried. One because you called him his real name and not “baby” and two, he never could tell what type of question you would ask.

He cleared his throat while giving you a concerned look which made you giggle. That giggle made his fears increase but he decided to humor you. Maybe you were finally going to ask him something simple like: “would you still love me if I was a worm?”

However, he just wasn’t that lucky.

“So Taylor Swift’s album “The Tortured Poets Department” is coming out soon and I was wondering if you could break up with me before it so I can feel it.”

Soonyoung was absolutely flabbergasted and shook his head no quickly. This made you while and pathetically try to beg but Soonyoung stood his ground and crossed his arms.

“Baby, you’re going to have to use imagination for that because I can’t ever break up with you. Just thinking of doing that hurts me.”

“I know baby, but hear me out, this album is rumored to be about her breakup of 6 years. I wanna cry with her.” Soonyoung shook his head no again with his lips pursed. He knew you loved Taylor but he loved you so much more. He’d do anything for you but not that. Even if it was temporary or fake.

✫ Wonwoo

Similarly to Jeonghan, Wonwoo got the Swiftie 101 class except yours happened while y’all were snuggling before bed randomly one evening.

Therefore, he knew the drill and knew how to be a supportive Swiftie boyfriend. Did he have your favorite wine? Check. Did he have tissues? Check. Did he have a shoulder to cry on if you needed it? You’re in luck, he has two!

He poured you both a glass of wine as you pressed play on Fortnight (which he was looking forward to because Post Malone is the man.) After a few songs you had already downed your wine and he quickly refilled it making you blush and thank him quietly. You both then listened to the remainder of the album and he’d give the famous wonu smile whenever you were guessing who the songs were about. Heck, after a while, even he joined in on the guessing game.

✫Woozi

Unknown to you, Jihoon had pre-saved TTPD and listened to it in his studio within a minute of it coming out. While he didn’t know about the lore or any behind the scenes things about Taylor Swift he focused on the lyrics and production of the songs and was impressed. He made little notes to talk to you about them when he got home.

Once he got home at about 3:30 am, he noticed you were sitting with your legs against your chest still listening to the album. He smiled at you and sat beside you. You leaned against him sighing as he wrapped his arms around you to cuddle. He knew you felt sad because of the album and honestly it was sad so he didn’t blame you one bit.

“So she released an additional 15 songs,” you said after awhile which made Jihoon raise an eyebrow. He only listened to the first 16 songs and suddenly he didn’t feel as prepared.

“15???”

“15!”

“Damn… well iI got notes on the first 16 songs if you wanna talk about those.”

This made you sit up with a smile which made Jihoon smile as well before leaning in to kiss you. “Deal.”

✫ DK

Like Jun, Seokmin had witnessed Midnights album release with you along with the Taylor’s Versions of both Speak Now and 1989. He thought he was mentally prepared for this Album but he was so wrong.

Y’all had just finished “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” and when “Down Bad” started he officially felt his heart break.

It was as if Seokmin and your tear ducts were synced as tears fell down both of your faces. At that moment, Seokmin made an oath to you he would never put you in a situation that Taylor unfortunately had to endure.

Once you finally got through all 16 songs and both were ready to fall asleep, Taylor announced and additional 15. Seokmin just looked at the announcement in disbelief before sitting up and saying “okay baby, lets cry some more.”

✫ Mingyu

To be honest, Mingyu loved doing the scavenger hunts that Taylor and Taylor Nation had the swifties do. He found it so interesting the little clues and everything they had that he was a bit jealous they didn’t have something like that with Seventeen. It was a brilliant idea and a great way to bring some excitement to the table for a new album.

Watching you bite your lip as you looked through older songs of hers on Apple Music to find the clues was so attractive to him and he’d look into your eyes as you shared theories on what Tortured Poets would be about.

He just found you so precious and loved these little moments together with you and was happy to be there.

✫ Minghao

Minghao promised to listen to the new album with you but he couldn’t help but feel upset at what was being talked about.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think it was good. He was just so disappointed in whoever Taylor was singing about because of the infidelity, lying, and just treating her like garbage. His heart then hurt when you innocently told him the lyrics were relatable.

Minghao knew you had a rough relationship prior to yours and it made him sad that he wasn’t able to be there sooner so he could help you overcome the hurt. He tried his best to hide the rage and hurt he felt empathetically to you in hopes not to ruin the album for you. However, you knew. You knew how he felt and while you never would tell him, you fell more in love with him at that moment. How beautiful it was to finally have someone who you know could never hurt you like that again.

✫ Seungkwan

Similarly to Joshua and Wonwoo, Seungkwan stayed up to listen to the album with you. It was a tradition you both did for your favorite artists. You had done it a month prior with Beyonce’s “Cowboy Carter” and now it was time to stop yeehawing and time to cry.

Even though you were more of the Swiftie between you two, even he couldn’t help but feel emotional while listening to the album. When you both first listened to “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart” you both had to pause before going to the next song.

You paused because you felt horrible for Taylor meanwhile, he paused because he could relate to the lyrics so much. Seungkwan couldn’t help but think of his hiatus last year and how he felt after coming back. When he started to cry you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him and cry with him.

✫ Vernon

Hansol walked into your shared apartment and saw you lying on the floor disassociated and couldn’t help but find you adorable. He had given you a day to listen to the album per your request and from the looks of it, it fucked you up.

He decided to lay next to you in support while holding your hand which made you instantly squeeze his hand three times. “Guessing the album was good?”

“No, it was great. Just so sad.”

He hummed and pulled you closer to him and petted your hair. You took it as an invitation to tell him all about the album. You couldn’t see his face but he had a sad smile on his face. He felt bittersweet. Bitter because he knew you were hurting but sweet because he found it enduring that you trusted him this much to be vulnerable with him.

✫ Dino

You decided that you would listen to the album by yourself the first time around. Chan was respectful about it and waited patiently to hear the outcome.

After you listened to it all you made your way to Chan and curled up in a ball next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your temple. “So what did you think?”

“There were two songs that made me think of you.”

This made him worried because from what you told him this album was rumored to be about the end of Taylor’s 6 year relationship and he thought that y’all were golden. Y’all hadn’t been fighting and everything was okay.

The look on his face made you laugh before pressing a kiss on his lips, “listen to them before you worry.”

You then put on The Alchemy and So High School for him and his heart felt like it exploded with happiness and relief. He kissed you before cheekily asking, “So… I’m your Travis Kelce?” You nodded with a smile, “and I’m your Taylor Swift.”

He laughed before giving you another kiss, “then I’ll make sure you constantly stay bejeweled.”

A/N: this was so corny but im kicking my feet. Check on your Swiftie friends. We are not okay 🥺

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain: Epilogue

I know I said I would hold off posting until the Christmas story was completed, but this one literally had one chapter left and it felt rude to make you wait for it.

Happy boys!

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24|Pt 25|Pt 26|Pt 27|Pt 28

****

Six months later:

They were having a holiday plus everyone celebrating something awesome party.

It was held at Steve and Eddie’s new house. Steve had decided to move out the apartment and buy a house now that the business was so successful. And on their six month anniversary, Steve asked Eddie to move in with him.

It had two studios. A music one for Eddie, where he could write songs and the boys could practice so that they no longer had to rent out that garage.

The second one was for Steve to get his art degree. He was still running Royal Pain, but wanted to learn new styles and techniques that would help him become a better tattoo artist.

Chrissy, Robin, and Vickie had also moved into together, but into a bigger apartment that had three rooms so that they could all have their own space, but still remain a committed polycule.

Argyle and Chrissy were both full time tattoo artists, leaving time for Steve to go back to school.

Robin was going back to school, too. To become a translator.

Eden and Argyle were still a couple and expecting their first child in the summer.

Nancy and Jonathan remained broken up, with Nancy in therapy and Jonathan dating a friend of Miranda’s.

Jeff and Miranda were getting married in February, the reception to be held at the Nightmare Holes.

Mike and Will were official now, too and were in talks to move in together. They were trying to decide to move to Will’s apartment, Mike’s, or a find another apartment all together. One that was both their space.

Erica had moved to New York to be with Max and Lucas. But all of them were in town for the party. Having planned it around when the Knicks would be in town.

Hopper was loving Eden as his apprentice, hers almost being up. He was eyeing the first of the year to promote her.

Brian came out as ace and that Cecil was his platonic life partner and had been for the last couple of years.

Gareth and Gethin were still sharing the apartment, but they were still single. Gethin was always looking for the next Mrs Hughes, but Gareth was content to find out more about himself before diving into a relationship.

Dustin and Suzie were also expecting, but they had just found earlier that week.

The Binghams were so excited that two of their daughters were pregnant and were planning to come up in the summer to help with Eden’s baby and help Suzie get ready for hers.

They were all gathered around in the kitchen with a package that Murray had sent over that morning.

“Come on, Ed,” Wayne said softly. “Open ‘er up.”

Eddie nodded and tore the brown paper off the gift. He let out a choked out sob.

Steve put his arm around Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh sunshine,” Steve breathed. “Show everyone.”

Eddie nodded and lifted it over his head so everyone could see.

There in a black frame and nestled in a white background was a gold record for their song, Pretty Boy Under Bright Lights. The first love song Eddie ever wrote for Steve. And it had just sold its five hundred thousand copy.

They all started cheering.

Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek fiercely. “See? I knew you could do it on your terms, Eds. You are a rockstar now.”

Tears ran down his cheeks nodding his head. Then he was surrounded by his band. They were hugging him and cheering.

Sometimes it really does work out for everyone. Even if didn’t happen the way they thought it would.

Eddie thought back to that day so long ago when Max had called him to let him know that she was leaving. He never thought that losing a tattoo artist would change his life forever.

Later that night, he pulled her aside.

“I owe you big time, Red,” he said, wrapping his arm around her.

Max grinned. “Hell yeah you do.”

“Anything you want, you’ve got,” Eddie promised. “My left kidney. My first child.”

She laughed. “When you two get married, I want to do matching tattoos on both of you.”

Eddie blinked. “Deal!”

Steve wandered over just then. “What’s a deal?”

Max grinned up at him. “Eddie just promised me that I get to do wedding tats when you two get married.”

Steve looked at Eddie and then back to Max. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Max nodded once. “Damn straight it is.”

“Oh, honey,” Eddie teased. “There ain’t nothing straight about this relationship.”

She smacked his arm.

But Eddie just giggled.

“Come on,” Max said. “I want to see it.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You saw it on my Insta.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” she growled. “I want to see Steve’s masterpiece.”

Steve blushed. “Come on, Max...”

Eddie looked at his blush and then turned to Max. “Fine. But here and not out there where everyone can gawk.”

“Well, duh,” she said. “That’s why I asked now.”

Eddie took off his shirt and turned around.

“Oh shit,’ she hissed. “It’s even better than the pictures give it credit. Steve, this is incredible. There’s no way I could have done something like that.”

Steve ducked his head. “I really really like how it turned out.”

Eddie put his shirt back on. “Yeah. Me too. I just don’t like showing it off, because it’s so personal. Between me and Steve.”

Max nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely. Thanks for showing me.”

Eddie nodded back and wrapped his arms around, Steve. “Thanks for everything, Red.”

She waved them off. All she had done was leave. But they didn’t see it that way. So yeah, they owed everything to Max, for choosing to live her life on her own terms.

“Before we go back to the party,” Steve said. “I wanted to give you another present before we got to the main one later.”

Eddie’s shoulder sagged. “Babe you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Steve said scratching his cheek. “In fact it was something I’ve been meaning to give to you for a long time.”

He pulled out a brightly wrapped package the size of baseball.

“This isn’t a baseball, is it?” Eddie asked playfully.

Steve laughed. “No. It’s not that.”

Eddie removed the wrapping paper to find a small black velvet box. He opened it slowly.

“Babe, you can’t give this to me,” he begged. “This is the only thing you have left of your grandpa.”

Steve took it out and slid it on Eddie’s middle finger on his right hand. It fit perfectly. “I’ve been wanting you to have it since you gave me your lucky guitar pick. I wanted to give you something that was on the same level of importance to me that this was for you.” He tapped the pick gently that was under his shirt.

“It’s not–you’re not–”

Steve shook his head. “I will propose. Just not yet and not with that. You’ll get a ring on your left hand, sunshine. Make no mistake.”

Eddie nodded. “I love you, babe.”

“Steven Courtney Alexander Harrington you better not be making out in there!”

Eddie and Steve laughed and kissed deeply, then they walked back to the party, arms wrapped around each other.

“Right names, wrong order,” Eddie teased as they rejoined the group.

Robin blinked. “Wait, really?”

Steve nodded.

“I can’t believe you told him before you told me!” Robin hissed. “I was here first!”

“But I liked watching you guess,” he said laughing. Then he turned to the rest of the crowd. “Who told?”

Robin wiggled her shoulders smugly. “No one told me. I looked up your grandparents. They’re both pretty famous, after all.”

Steve sighed. “Again which of you told her to look it up?”

Robin’s jaw dropped and Vickie’s hand slowly went up.

“Traitor!” Robin said in mock outrage.

Eddie leaned down to see that Steve was pouting about her learning his middle name.

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” he said kissing Steve’s cheek. “We can make her guess my middle name.”

Steve immediately brightened up. “Oohhh. Yeah, okay. It’ll take her years to guess yours!”

“It’s Wayne,” Robin said confidently.

Wayne snorted from the corner. “You really think my deadbeat brother would name his son after me, the responsible one?”

She frowned.

Steve turned to Eddie gleefully. “You’re right, sunshine. Best game ever.”

Robin started shouting out names and it wasn’t even Eddie correcting her. It was Jeff, and Miranda, and Gareth, and Brian and everyone else who knew Eddie’s middle name.

And of course Steve knew it too, but he liked watching their friends and family laugh and try to guess. Because the truth was, Eddie didn’t have a middle name. Robin could guess forever and never get it right.

Steve curled up against Eddie’s side and sighed happily. It was his best year yet. And as long as he had Eddie by his side, they would all be great years to come.

END

****

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

[enam3l]

(hooray!!! tumblr fixed the links so everything should be in working order lmk if there’s any issues - 4th may)

TAGLIST AND REQUESTS OPEN

follow the tag #enam3ls rockstar eddie to get new update alerts! best way of using the tag is to go onto my tumblr then use the search bar and enter the tag. then it shows everything tagged from newest to oldest!

rockstar eddie munson fucking hates tommy lee (ficlet?)

the story of eddie x readers life-long beef with tommy lee

these days, rockstar eddie doesn’t give a fuck (headcanon story)

in the year 2022, eddie munson is a husband, dad and oh yeah – a rockstar but now he’s in his 50s, he really just doesn’t give a fuck what people think

rockstar eddie does Halloween (headcanon story)

from celebrating his first halloween with you to the present day, all of eddie’s annual Halloween antics

rockstar eddie does Halloween pt.2 (4k / smut)

in 1992 a certain halloween costume gets you in trouble with your boyfriend eddie

rockstar eddie’s purpose in life was becoming a dad (headcanon story)

an intro to dad rockstar eddie and his daughters for the first time ever

rockstar eddie’s friends in the industry (ficlet)

eddie hates tommy lee but he’s also got lots of friends and others he admires – how they meet metallica 

rockstar eddie munson thinks any music is good music if it makes you happy (ficlet)

eddie loves taking you to see your fave gigs and festivals then later your kids too

the big one: how rockstar eddie met his wife (y/n) (11.7k / fluffy love)

in an interview in november 1999, eddie and wife y/n tell a journalist how you met by pure coincidence on February 11th 1989

rockstar eddie’s lipstick stained shirt  (2.6k / smut)

in July 1993 corroded coffin are performing in vegas and a surprise from eddie results in you struggling to keep it in your pants

rockstar eddie has a new member for the band (headcanon story)

as you’re pregnant with your first baby Sloane, you worry how being a dad rockstar will work and how other musicians will react

rockstar eddie munson is gonna get the girl and god help anyone who stops him (9.6k / angst / fluff / slight smut)

direct follow up to how you and eddie met for the first time. after spending all your time together, in august 1989 you take your first holiday together and trouble ensues

the munson kids and their friendships with other rockstar’s kids (blurb) 

rockstar eddie munson and his wife are still hopelessly in love (ficlet / fluff)

your youngest daughter maeve notices not everyone is as in love as you and eddie

steve harrington's happy ending (4.7k / fluff)

our boy steve gets the ending he's always deserved! we meet corey and the other nuggets mom for the first time

half the world away (4k / fluff / smut 18+ / slight angst)

following their first holiday together, eddie goes on corroded coffin's first nationwide tour and you're apart for the first time since meeting

like a rainbow (4k / pure fluff)

you might be heavily pregnant with your first baby but hell will freeze over before you miss an award show that eddie is nominated at

96' awards show bonus: kiss from a rose (ficlet / fluff)

an extra scene to 'like a rainbow'. yours and your baby's favourite song is being performed live and eddie is just... eddie

rockstar eddie learns about the kardashians (ficlet / fluff)

the munsons get a wedding invite - but eddie is wondering who the hell the kardashians are?

the wish (ficlet / fluff)

you want to make sure eddie’s first birthday with you by his side is special so you ask the whole gang for help

driving mrs munson (ficlet / fluff)

now you’ve left the city for hawkins, eddie thinks you might need a new ride

sunday morning (ficlet / fluff / allusion to smut)

a day in the life of you and your boyfriend eddie as you enjoy a cute sunday together

one embarrassing dad to rule them all (ficlet / fun / fluff)

maeve can’t resist capturing her dad eddie’s antics for tiktok

there’s something about marnie (ficlet / fluff / smut)

your daughters have eddie wrapped around their fingers but they just can’t seem to get him to buy a dog

he had it coming (ficlet / fluff / smut / light violence)

not long after having your first baby together, the media is buzzing with pamela anderson and tommy lee drama and eddie is sick of the paparazzi

munson family values (ficlet / fluff / mention of smut)

what’s not to love about being on holiday with your rockstar husband eddie and your three daughters?

this maeve-chine slays dragons (ficlet / fluff / angst)

eddie loves being a dad more than anything but is scared his youngest daughter maeve doesn’t like him

an eddie munson christmas (ficlet / festive fluff)

readers choice! your first ever christmas with eddie is your first real christmas ever

three fucking weeks (3.6k / filthy smut)

it's been three long gruelling weeks without eddie whilst he's been away recording and now you're finally reunited. cliffhanger ending!

the big question (4.6k words / pure fluff) NEW

continuing straight after 'three fucking weeks' eddie is finally prepared to ask you the big question.

little notes and answered questions 

eddie’s queer daughter Sloane (1) (2)

eddie’s middle daughter iris (1)

eddie deals with season 4 (1)

eddie’s industry pals and views (1) (2) (3)

aftermath of season four (1)

[blood-mocha-latte]

How about Webgott + love letters, for Valentine's day :)

greetings!! i stared at this prompt for Forever, and was trying to write it in an Organic and Normal way. and it turns out that the Organic and Normal way for me to write this was modern exes webgott. so although i’m sure it wasn’t exactly what you were thinking, i hope you enjoy <3

~

Sun, Feb 4, 9:38AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Subject: Books

Web - 

You forgot your collection at my house. It’s all Dostoevsky, which I knew you did on purpose, idiot. You know I can’t stand that fucker, and you took all of the Vonnegut with you.

Come back and get your books before I burn them all.

- Joe

//

Sun, Feb 4, 2:19PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Books

Joe -

You have my phone number. Just text me. What if I don’t have time to check my email?

I’ll pick up my books at 6.

- David

//

Sun, Feb 4, 6:01PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Books

Web -

You always check your email. At least five times a day. Don’t lie to me. And I don’t want to have to compete with your goddamn spam texts, I know you forget to delete them.

P.S. You’re late.

- Joe

—————— 

Fri, Feb 9,  3:06AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: Journal

I can’t find my journal. The one from August to November? Can you see it at your place? I need it.

//

Fri, Feb 9, 3:41AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journal

It was in your nightstand. You didn’t think to clear that out? 

Go to sleep. It’s ass in the morning.

//

Fri, Feb 9,  4:13AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journal

Can I come by and pick it up before Public Speaking? And you’re the one that responded.

//

Fri, Feb 9, 4:39AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journal

Public Speaking starts at 10, I’m at work by 6. You know where the key is. 

You’re the one that emailed in the first place. I can’t believe you didn’t just text.

//

Fri, Feb 9,  5:01AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journal

You’re so old I thought a text would confuse you.

—————— 

Mon, Feb 12,  9:03AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Subject: Journalist

Why did I just get called by a guy about a sports journal? The fuck are you up to?

//

Mon, Feb 12, 12:41PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

Don’t worry about it.

//

Mon, Feb 12, 12:52PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

Web, he has my contact info. If you get crazy-insane murdered so do I. Did you do something?

//

Mon, Feb 12, 1:13PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

Don’t be a doomsday planner. He’s not a murderer. I just went out with him one time. It didn’t end great.

//

CALL FROM: JOE (DON’T)

February 12, 1:27PM

“Yeah?”

“What the hell did you do?”

“What — Jesus, Joe, is this about the guy? It’s fine—”

“Yeah, see, that doesn’t exactly instill me with confidence that you didn’t do something stupid—”

“I already told you, I just went out with him. To dinner.”

“When?”

“I… I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Yes, the fuck you do, because if—”

“Oh, what, you expect me to say I went on a fucking date with him when we were still together? Get over yourself, Joe, it was five days ago—”

“I didn’t say that! I did not say that—”

“And why the hell do you care, anyways? We broke up in December, okay—”

“Jesus, that was only two months ago—”

“It was three, and that’s plenty of time—”

“I’m just saying, you won’t catch me going out with—”

“Because no one can stand your crotchety ass—”

“Oh, but they can stand yours?” 

“I — Jesus fuck. I’m hanging up. He only called you because he saw your name and thought it was a different Joe. I’ve gotta get to class. I’ll see you—”

“Wait, wait, Web—”

“I’m not even going out with him again, I just was thinking about the fourteenth. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“David — fuck.”

//

Mon, Feb 12,  6:34PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

I shouldn’t have pushed that far. That’s my bad.

—————— 

Wed, Feb 14, 5:28PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: (no subject)

Can you come pick me up?

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:37PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Are you okay? Are you hurt?

Where are you?

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:31PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Outside of Delancey’s bar.

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:32PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Please don’t call me.

//

(DRAFTED EMAIL - UNSENT)

Wed, Feb 14, 5:33PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I couldn’t stand to hear your voice right now.

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:42PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I’m on my way. Stay where you are.

—————— 

Sat, Mar 23, 1:18AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: (no subject)

I miss you, I think.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 1:23AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Finally giving in to just emailing, huh?

Go to sleep, kid.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 1:29AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I understand it, now.

It’s less personal.

You have to think more about what you say.

And you’re not asleep, either. 

Thank you for picking me up last month.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 1:53AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I thought you wanted a clean break, after that. That’s what you said at the bar.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:02AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I think that once your ex picks your shitfaced ass up from a bar because he got an email, there’s no such thing as a clean break. 

I think I’m just delusional.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:10AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Well, I never said you weren’t.

But it seemed like we might have made it, in this go around. It’s been almost a month since we last talked.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:18AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Well, in the words of one of the best movies of all time: I just can’t quit you.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:32AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Eugh.

—————— 

CALL FROM: WEB

April 6, 8:52PM

“You know, he almost broke his nose here.” 

“Yeah, I do know, Web, ‘cause everyone knows that. There’s not an American alive that doesn’t know that.”

“Mm. I like this scene.”

“What, the making out? Or did the TV’s go outta sync again?”

“No, the making out. Both do a good job at the… the emotion. The desperation, I guess.”

“Mm.”

“Are you eating something? I hear chewing.”

“What are you, a cop? Can a man not eat a toblerone while watching a movie?”

“No, you can, it’s just — you’re chewing right into the receiver, Joe, it’s gross—”

“Alright, alright, I’ll put it down. See? No more chewing. Enjoy your gay cowboy movie.”

“If I recall correctly, you’re also watching the gay cowboy movie.”

“Only because it was on! And I would’ve turned it off if you didn’t call me.”

“If I didn’t — you called me!” 

“Yeah, yeah, believe what you wanna believe.”

—————— 

Thur, April 18, 11:27PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: (no subject)

I think we’re better as friends.

//

Thur, April 18, 12:09PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

What makes you say that?

//

Thur, April 18, 12:31PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

It’s just.

I can’t be the only one that thinks that we get along about a thousand times better now then we did for the entire time we dated. I mean, you would have NEVER watched a Wes Anderson film with me if we were still together.

And we talk way more too, I think. Because of the emails, maybe. 

//

Thur, April 18, 12:54PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Well, first off, the reason we talk way more is because of the emails. Because you don’t delete those spam texts and have no filter and are therefore near impossible to reach.

Second off, we still get along terribly, fuck you. 

But I can understand parts of that. We’re still seeing each other just as much as when we were together, I’d say. Now you’re just half an hour away, though. Much shorter distance.

//

Thur, April 18, 1:08PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Do you think we’d still be together? If we hadn’t been long distance for so long?

And I’m just saying. You never would have agreed with me on any of this if we’d still been doing the whole dog and pony show. You just don’t have the bone in your head that says to be nice to people.

//

Thur, April 18, 1:19PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I disagree with you on everything just on principle.

—————— 

Fri, May 3, 7:12PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: The New Deal

I want to propose something.

//

Fri, May 3, 7:39PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

You get five sentences.

//

Fri, May 3, 7:57PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

If neither of us is married by forty, we marry each other.

//

Fri, May 3, 9:02PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

That is the most stereotypical bullshit I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

And I’ll be forty in five years, you’ve got a while. How in the hell does that even work?

//

Fri, May 3, 9:23PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

It works in normal marriage ways, idiot. 

And that’s why I was thinking about it, anyways. You’re 40 in 5 years, I’m 40 in 12 years, we just split the difference and get married in 7 years. Avoid a lot of hassle.

//

Fri, May 3, 9:44PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

When you say you were thinking about it, it makes you sound like this is a pity marriage thing. Which is weird, by the way. I don’t think that’s how it works, anyways. That’s more of a heterosexual friends who are scared they’ll die alone sort of deal. Real platonic like.

//

Fri, May 3, 10:01PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

This isn’t a pity marriage thing! I just think that it’s something to consider. Unless one of us gets hitched in the next 7 years, it doesn’t seem like a half bad plan.

//

Fri, May 3, 10:19PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

Oh, I have plenty of issues with this plan.

But fine. We’ll get pity-married in 7 years. You’ll be a child bride. 

//

Fri, May 3, 10:34PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

I’ll be 33, dickhead.

—————— 

CALL FROM: JOE

May 19, 9:54AM

“The German dog tags are a nice touch.”

“Mm. ‘s an interesting movie. I like this part, though. It’s incredibly violent.”

“Yeah, I figured. I dragged this fucking DVD across the country and rented a DVD player from the hotel to sync this movie with you, and get such wonderful comments as I like that it’s violent.”

“Well, I do! Nothing much to add there, really. D’you have anything smart to say, jackass?”

“You’re chewing into the receiver again. And not at this particular scene, though. I just like Eli Roth in this movie.”

“Hm. Figures. Want me to start bashing people's heads in with a bat? I could be the Bear Jew.”

“No one could be the Bear Jew. I’m sorry to tell you this. You don’t have the flair. Or the height.”

“Oh, go straight for the jugular, why don’t you—”

“It’s true! You’re chewing, again.”

“How’s everything going?”

“Ugh. Fine. I hate these fucking tours.”

“I know. That’s why I delight in them so much.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you still want me to pick you up from the airport?”

“...yeah. I can’t get anyone else to do it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll spare you the humiliation of having to be picked up by your ex. I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses. Send me the information.”

“Oh, yack it up, asshole. And I’ll email you.”

“Fine. Remember to make sure it has a fucking subject, I hate it when you do that.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to watch this.”

“Mm. But you’ll still email me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll still email you, Lieb.”

[hooked-on-elvis]

"My Boy" (1973-1974)

Recorded on December 13, 1973 at Stax Studios, Memphis · Released on March 20, 1974 · Album: Good Times

MUSICIANS Guitar: James Burton, Johnny Christopher, Charlie Hodge. Bass: Norbert Putnam. Drums: Ronnie Tutt. Piano & Organ: David Briggs, Per-Erik Hallin. Vocals: Kathy Westmoreland, Mary (Jeannie) Greene, Mary Holladay, Susan Pilkington, Voice, J.D. Sumner & The Stamps. OVERDUBS Guitar: Dennis Linde, Alan Rush. Percussion: Rob Galbraith. Piano: Bobby Ogdin. Organ: Randy Cullers. Vocals: Ginger Holladay, Mary Holladay, Mary Cain.

RELEASES In March 1974 "My Boy" was first released on the album "Good Times", and in January 1975 the song came out as Side-A single (backed with "Thinking About You".

The master of “My Boy” was lengthened by splicing on a repeat of the last section.

"MY BOY" — LYRICS Songwriters: Bill Martin/Phil Coulter/Claude Francois/Jean-Pierre Bourtayre You're sleeping son, I know But really, this can't wait I wanted to explain Before it gets too late For your mother and me Love has finally died This is no happy home But God knows how I've tried Because you're all I have, my boy You are my life, my pride, my joy And if I stay, I stay because of you, my boy I know it's hard to understand Why did we ever start? We're more like strangers now Each acting out a part I have laughed, I have cried I've lost every game Taken all I can take But I'll stay here just the same Because you're all I have, my boy You are my life, my pride, my joy And if I stay, I stay because of you, my boy Sleep on, you haven't heard a word Perhaps it's just as well Why spoil your little dreams Why put you through the hell Life is no fairy tale As one day you will know But now you're just a child I'll stay here and watch you grow Because you're all I have, my boy You are my life, my pride, my joy And if I stay, I stay because of you, my boy Because you're all I have, my boy You are my life, my pride, my joy And if I stay, I stay because of you, my boy Yeah, because you're all I have, my boy You are my life, my pride, my joy And if I stay, I stay because of you, my boy Oh, because you're all I have

--

TAKES · FROM FIRST TO MASTER

THE TAKE 2 Studio Sessions for RCA · December 13, 1973: Stax Studios, Memphis Please, read what Ernst Jorgensen says about the moment "My Boy" was being recorded, and listen to the take. -- The next night Elvis began with a song from his live repertoire, “My Boy,” which had been included in the August Las Vegas show. The song told the traumatic tale of losing a child through divorce, but Elvis wanted to be done with it fast. When Felton pushed for a third take, he exploded: “I told you to get this goddamn thing in two takes. I can’t sing it no more.” Take three was actually better; it lacked the long fade out Felton wanted, but he knew better than to ask for another, confident that he could loop it in mixing to get the effect he wanted. Excerpt: "Elvis Presley, A Life in Music: The Complete Recording Sessions" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998) -- So, when I first read this part of Jorgensen's book I hadn't listen to that take yet, but now that I did I don't take Elvis' comment as "he exploded", do you? If that was Elvis exploding, I have to reconsider a lot of the stories about his supposed short-tempered moments. Just saying. He sounded pretty like just casually commenting rather than snapping at Felton like the description of the moment made it look like. Still, I personally think that comment came for a reason, maybe EP was too polite - or too embarrassed - to show how affected by the lyrics of that song he was. Below is the take two alone, if you prefer to go straight to the point go to min. 3:50.

Elvis and Lisa Marie Presley at Baptist Memorial Hospital in Memphis, TN, on February, 1968. ♥

I must have been the only person in the fandom who hadn't seen this picture before. So cute! I'm meltinnnggg! Is it real? Looks edited, IDK. Anyway, what are your thoughts about Elvis' recording of My Boy? Do you think it had a meaning to him?

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

So anybody feeling rather nosy today?

Well I finished Kickin’s entire diary a few weeks ago, and since Hoppy never really got the chance to read the entire thing, I thought I’d share it here!

Please note, on the following dates

November 4, 1997

March 10, 1998

September 4, 1998

Kickin does write down some s*icidal thoughts, that may be triggering to some people. I’d advise you to skip past those if they are triggering for you. I’ll mark them with bold text so you know.

Diary is under the cut! Have fun snooping!

August 26, 1995

I found this notebook by one of the kids’ beds. He didn’t use it at all so I figured it was alright to take it! Not that he is here to stop me anyways. I decided to start writing stuff in here! Just whatever I’m thinking, whenever I feel like it, I guess. Whenever I feel like it. God, that is a WEIRD sentence to say. Or write. But it’s true! It’s my life now! Whenever I feel like it! No more stupid employees here! Haha, get wrecked! Losers. Oh, Hoppy’s calling me. I’m gonna go! I’ll write in you again later! I promise! Wait, why am I promising a notebook that I’ll do something?

October 2, 1995

Okay so I kinda forgot about this thing. Oops! Anyways, I’m getting bored. The soccer ball is starting to deflate and we can’t find the pump. This SUCKS dude. Like, I get the prototype is busy doing whatever, but if he’s all powerful like he says can’t he give us some entertainment around here? Like sheesh! There’s nothing to do. I’m so bored.

October 16, 1995

I’m thinking of growing my hair out. I mean, Crafty is doing it! And it’s getting annoying constantly cutting it. It grows back really fast. Maybe I’ll go for a mullet type look! Just maybe though.

October 29, 1995

DogDay’s missing. We don’t know where he went. We tried searching for him but CatNap told us not to. It’s always what CatNap says. Stupid. I’m going to keep looking anyways. I’m gonna find him.

October 30, 1995

Never mind.

January 1, 1996

Hey, new year! It kinda sucks though. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate. Also, big problem. Bobby found out about my secret crush. Oh I hope nobody ever reads this thing. Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like-like Hoppy. She’s just so cute and pretty and funny and spunky and cool and I love it when she talks about outer space it’s so interesting!!! She’s so fast too, like crazy fast! I think she’s too fast though. She beats me at literally EVERYTHING. That’s okay though! I’m gonna keep getting better until I can win! But yeah. Bobby found out. I’m terrified for my life.

January 23 1996

So we’re starting to run out of food. Catnap said to trust in the prototype and that he’s gonna save us and stuff. I call bull. We need food, not a savior! But he said the prototype has a plan, so I guess we’ll be fine. Still though, I’m getting tired of eating moldy salami.

February 6, 1996

Crafty’s starting to lose it. She started nagging me nonstop because she keeps running out of red marker. I’m gonna avoid her from now on. Her drawings are getting weird. Really weird. Like borderline creepy stuff. She’s going bonkers man, I’m telling you.

May 16, 1996

We ran out of food. Woke up this morning to Picky scoring through the rest of our god damn supply. I swear I am going to SCREAM DUDE!! So what if she’s always hungry?! She’s not the only one who needs food to survive! Unbelievable. What the hell are we going to do now?

May 17, 1996

So that was CatNap’s back up plan. Oh my god. I don’t want to even think about what I’ve done today. I recognized him. Who I ate. He was there when I first woke up. Taking notes in the corner of the room on his clipboard. I feel sick to my stomach. How long are we going to have to do this for?

June 2, 1996

Today feels special. I don’t know why. It just does. Also I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as much. I’m just scared of getting caught writing in this thing. What if someone reads it? What if CatNap reads it? Will he get mad at me for what I wrote a few months ago about the prototype? Maybe I should erase it. No I can’t do that, I wrote it in marker. I’m going to keep this thing hidden inside my zipper pocket for now, until I find a better spot.

July 22, 1996

There was a freaking execution today. I’m so disturbed right now. It was one of the tiny DogDays. I’m not really sure what he did, but CatNap made us all watch as he ripped the poor guy apart. He said that’s what happens if you are a heretic. That’s what happens if you speak out even the slightest against the prototype. Bubba told me that he thought one of the other minis had tattled to CatNap about what that tiny DogDay did. That’s insane. I can’t imagine any of my friends doing that to me. Would they do that to me? No, I’m being an idiot. They’d never do that. Regardless I can’t let him find this thing. I don’t want to end up like that mini.

August 8, 1996

It’s officially been a full year since the Hour of Joy. It’s weird to think about. How many full humans have I eaten by now? Maybe eight? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? I lose count. I don’t feel anything when I eat them anymore. It’s easier to imagine them without faces. I always cut off the head so I don’t have to see it. On the bright side, we finally found the pump for the soccer ball. Hoppy and I can finally start playing again. I don’t really think either of us want to though. At least not right now.

September 12, 1996

Hoppy and I had another fight today. I’m writing in this thing because Bobby made us separate. I don’t like being mad at her. I want to apologize but I’m scared to approach her right now. I miss DogDay. I don’t write about him much but I miss him. His name is kind of forbidden to even speak nowadays. Picky thinks he abandoned us. I don’t think he did. He’d never do that. But if he did I want him to come back. Everything’s falling apart without him.

January 12, 1997

I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I don’t really know what to write about today though so I’m gonna end it off here.

February 7, 1997

Sometimes I wonder if I should name this journal something. But I’m not very creative when it comes to names. Crafty is though. She’s been really different lately though. She’s gotten really cheerful for some reason. But say the wrong thing and suddenly you’re on the ground. I’m scared of her. I don’t know what’s going on with her but if she doesn’t get that fixed soon she’s going to get herself killed. Or kill someone else. Either of the two. Maybe even both.

April 25, 1997

Nothing to write about today. I’m just not going to. I don’t feel like it. My hand hurts. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.

June 2, 1997

It’s the weird day again. The one that feels like it should be special. I don’t know what that feeling is. I asked Bubba about it. He knows a lot, I thought he’d probably know that too. He didn’t though. He said he got that feeling too, sometimes. But neither of us knew why.

June 19, 1997

We ran out of food. I didn’t even know that was possible. There were so many humans working in this factory, how did we run out of them? The entire Playcare was in panic today. CatNap calmed us all down. He said not to worry, because the prototype always has a plan. Okay. If the prototype always has a plan, what is it? Because I’m tired of this whole stupid mess! I want to know what it is! Why can’t I know what it is? This is so dumb! The prototype is so dumb! It makes me want to tear all my feathers out!!!!

September 19, 1997

IM SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY I DONT KNOW WHAT TO EAT THERES NOTHING I HAVENT EATEN IN SO LONG I NEED FOOD I NEED FOOD. IM HAVING THESE SCARY THOUGHTS NOW I WANT THEM GONE! I DONT WANT TO HURT ANYONE BUT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO

September 19, 1997

I did it. I needed to eat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Picky told us how to find food. There’s plenty of it in the Playhouse. Like livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered. CatNap was so mad. But we have food now. And we all know he’s been eating them too. I feel like a monster. They were like us. But Bubba told me it was necessary. We were all going to die if we didn’t. I’m still sorry though.

November 4, 1997

Bubba got gassed. Badly. I’m so worried about him. We don’t even know why, we just walked in the room and there he was, laying on the ground with scratch marks all over him. How could CatNap have done such a thing? He’s sick. Just sick. I’ve been taking care of him now. I don’t want to leave his side. I’m worried that if I leave for a moment that something will happen to him. Hoppy’s been making me stay active. Sometimes she’s the only reason I keep going on. It’d be so easy just to end it all. She’s there for me though. I love her. God, I love her. I never want anything to happen to her. But I know something’s going to happen to her. That something’s going to happen to all of us eventually. When it happens to her though, it’s gonna happen to me next. I promise it will.

November 14, 1997

I found a boombox today. It’s really cool. I’ve been playing it for Bubba recently. He’s still asleep. I hope he wakes up soon. Did I ever mention in here that I like to dance? It’s really fun. It makes me forget about everything that happened. I lose myself in the movements. I don’t really even know how I know how to dance. I never learned it as a toy. I think I’m gonna go do it now though.

December 3, 1997

THAT JERK! THAT HORRIBLE STUPID DISGUSTING DUMB JERK! I HATE HER! I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER! HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO BUBBA?? WHEN HAS HE EVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT NICE TO HER???? BUT NOOOOO, I GUESS KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING IN THE EYES OF PICKY PIGGY! ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS HERSELF AND HER APPETITE! I WOULDVE RIPPED OFF SOOO MUCH MORE THAN HER EAR IF I COULD! BUT THEN HOPPY AND BOBBY HAD TO COME IN AND RESTRAIN ME! STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID! IM GOING TO KILL HER WHEN I GET THE CHANCE! AND ITS GOING TO BE SLOW AND BRUTAL AND ITS GOING TO HURT!

January 1, 1998

Yay. New year. Yippee.

March 4, 1998

Something bad happened today. I knew it would happen eventually. I think we all did. Crafty finally lost it on the wrong person. She attacked CatNap and then he ripped off her hands as punishment. I could hear every. Single. Agonizing second of her screams. I thought I was used to screaming by now. I guess I was just telling myself that. I hope she survives. That was a lot of blood.

March 6, 1998

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. Hoppy’s leaving. She just told me she is. Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty are leaving Playcare in a week. They can’t leave. They can’t. CatNap’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them brutally. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what’s outside of Playcare? Plenty of toys who would be willing to hurt them for food. Hoppy told me to come with them. I can’t go with them. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want them to die. They can’t leave. I don’t want them to leave. But I can’t change Hoppy’s mind. She’s leaving with or without me. How could she do that to me? Just leave me here, all alone with Picky? Bubba’s still asleep. She’s the only one I’ll have to talk to. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m scared. I need to stop them.

March 8, 1998

what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done

March 9, 1998

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. I messed up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me. I keep seeing her. She talks to me in my head now, telling me she won’t ever forgive me, no matter how much I grovel and beg. Sometimes I don’t even think it’s in my head. Am I going insane? You don’t deserve to stay sane. You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

March 10, 1998

The blood won’t come off. It stained my hands. Maybe I deserve that. You do deserve that. You’re right. You’re always right. I deserve it. I haven’t moved from my bed since it happened. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. Bubba needs me though. At least if Picky tries eating him again there’s nobody to stop me from making her pay this time. I don’t know why I don’t just give up. I should. I made a promise that I would once Hoppy went. Maybe it’s Bubba. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt so alone before. I deserve to feel alone.

March 24, 1998

I’ve been seeing her a lot lately in my dreams. Always the screaming and then the ear. And then she tells me it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I still don’t understand. Am I selfish for not understanding? Yeah. Probably. But all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand. Picky’s been avoiding me. That’s fine. I don’t want to see her either.

April 12, 1998

You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t care if CatNap catches me going into the Playhouse. I need to see what’s inside. Maybe she’s inside, and that’s why we aren’t allowed in. I’m going to find her. I’m going to make things right with her. I refuse to believe she’s gone.

July 16, 1998

July. It’s already July. I took that long to recover? Seriously? That was three whole months. Well, I guess loosing an eye will do that to you. I’m still surprised that Picky took care of me while I was hurt. I tried to ask her why but she didn’t respond, so I guess that was that. That doesn’t matter though. He’s alive. He’s alive. DogDay’s alive! He’s been here this entire time, sitting right below our noses and we had no clue! If I can just figure out a way to get him out then he can save us all from this mess! I know he can! I just need to find a way.

July 20, 1998

Bubba woke up. He finally woke up! Oh my god, he finally woke up! It’s been how long, eight months? I’m so thankful. He’s really scared though. He must’ve been through hell. I know from experience the nightmares that stuff gives you aren’t pleasant. I can’t imagine going through that for a whole year. Poor guy.

July 21, 1998

Bubba’s been having trouble walking lately. His legs give out whenever he tries. I guess that makes sense. He hasn’t used his legs in a while. I wish I knew how to give him the proper treatment he needs. Actually, there’s an idea. I should check inside of the school. I’m sure there is something in there about comas.

July 22, 1998

OKAY SO THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. Not only did I find absolutely NOTHING, but I almost got my head bashed in with a freaking mace! That biology teacher has gone wack. Completely wack. Then again, she’s not the only one. I still hear Hoppy. She still visits me. I’ll be in the middle of something and then I’ll just see her. I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I know that’s really bad. But I enjoy seeing her. Even if all she does is cuss me out. It gives me hope. Hope that she’s not Never mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Bury that nice and deep along with the other scary thoughts. She’s not dead. She’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead.

August 8, 1998

Third year anniversary. Or is it the fourth? I don’t feel like doing the math. Bubba can walk again now, but all he does is sit against a wall. It feels like my effort was wasted, if I’m honest. He doesn’t like eating. Or sleeping. He hates sleeping. I tried to give him some books to read that I stole from the councilors office, but he ignored them. Some days he refuses to sleep so badly to the point where I have to knock him out for him to get a little shut eye. I feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve this. If I could take his place I would in a heartbeat. Maybe if it was me instead of him I wouldn’t have messed up so horribly.

September 4, 1998

It’s one of those days where the hallucinations are bad again. Sometimes I wonder if it even is a hallucination. Am I actually seeing her? She’s looking over my shoulder right now. Watching me write. She looks so real. And the stuff she says feels so real. I want her to be real. I want to hold her in my arms. She just told me if I ever try to do that she’s going to push me off the cloud I’m on. I think she knows I wouldn’t save myself.

September 18, 1998

Bubba’s been getting better. He’s started talking again. Only sometimes though. And he never says much. It’s a start though.

November 10, 1998

I think I just saw Picky chasing Hoppy away from the councilors office. I must’ve just been hallucinating again. She was carrying something though. It looked like a computer? I’ve never seen that before. Probably just another hallucination.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Epic Stucky Fic Rec | February, March & April 2023

I'm alive! 😅 I started making a fic rec for February and March in the beginning of April and then I completely forgot about it... and then by the time I remembered, April was almost done so I figured I'd wait 😆

Should I make a new banner? yes. Will I? Maybe ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Complete

💙 Additional Information series by notlucy/ @notlucy (Modern AU, Coworkers, Sugard Daddy/Daddy Kink, BDSM | Explicit)

Proprietary Information (85K): Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Preoccupations (6K): Steve doesn't usually pay much attention to the new hires. But there's something about this kid.

Brooklyn's on Fire (4K): Steve's turning thirty-seven and he really only wants one thing for his birthday.

Gimme Danger (6K): Bucky doesn't have time to explore his exhibitionist kink. He's very busy. He asks Steve about it anyway.

Remember You Well (in the Chelsea Hotel) (5K): Steve can't quite believe he has Bucky back. It seems too good to be true after the hell he endured while missing him. The universe, however, is full of surprises.

Close Call (6K): Bucky and Steve make it through two weeks of living together before the inevitable "first fight" of cohabitation. They (mostly) handle it like adults. And the makeup sex is killer, in Bucky's not-so-humble opinion.

To Sir, With Love (10K): Steve recognizes that his jealousy over Bucky's infatuation with one of his professors isn't rational, but that doesn't make it any less real. And, hey, if you can't beat them, join them, right? Besides, he's always wanted a tweed jacket.

Mergers and Acquisitions (41K): Steve and Bucky are going to the chapel, and they’re going to get married. Meanwhile, Peggy and Natasha…

💙 a day in the life by powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst) / @stuckyflangst (Post-Endgame Fix-It, Time Travel, Groundhog Day | 20K | Explicit): Steve Rogers wakes up on Tuesday October 30 1956, and doesn't seem to remember his life that well. Why does every day feel so familiar? And why does he keep getting visited by tall, dark, handsome men who remind him of Bucky?

The Day After, the Aftermath, or Whatever It Is That Feels Like a Hangover, Christmas, and His Birthday All at the Same Time by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle)/ @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (Modern AU | 1K | Mature): Bucky wakes the day after his thirtieth birthday with a hangover, a hardon, and a beautiful man sharing his bed.

Tell Me I Can Have It All by HaniTrash/ @hanitrash (Stucky in Wakanda | 1K | Explicit): Steve is tired of Bucky trying to push him away after he comes out of cryo in Wakanda. Rehashing the same argument brings up some new information that Bucky can't ignore, and makes him second-guess his decision to keep Steve at arm's length.

I'd Fuck Me by fandomfluffandfuck/ @fandomfluffandfuck (Evanstan, PWP | 6K | Explicit): When unexpectedly given a unique hotel room while on a Marvel press tour, Chris Evans ends up spending his evening alone, yet still making the most of his room... (Part 1 of Fuck This)

I'd Fuck You by fandomfluffandfuck/ @fandomfluffandfuck (Evanstan RPF | 8K | Explicit): Armed with nudes that contain enough raw sexual energy to cause nuclear explosions, Chris decides it's time to fucking blow Sebastian's mind... (Part 2 of Fuck This)

Captain Orgy 69 @ gmail.com by Gfawkes/ @gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes (Evanstan RPF, Friends to Lovers | 12K | Explicit): Or, Chris and Sebastian finally star in that rom-com they've been talking about.

My Heart Belongs to Captain Rogers by lavenderbucky (Canon | 3K | General): Steve wakes up late for his run, wears one of Bucky's shirts in public and goes slightly viral on Twitter. You know. Just an average day in his life.

5 Times Bucky Styled His Hair + 1 Time Steve Did It For Him by lavenderbucky (Post-WS | 8K | Teen): Steve is so happy to have Bucky back. His best friend is a little different to how he was in the 40s, but in some ways he's the exact same. But even if Bucky is his favourite person in the world, and even if Steve thinks his hair is really, really pretty, Steve's feelings for him are completely platonic. Right? Or: a love story, told through Bucky's hair.

WIP

💙 This is (not) a Ghost Story [COMIC] by PottersPink/ @potterspink​ (Post-WS | 11/31 | General): Steve moves into a haunted house. Well — everyone else is convinced it’s haunted, anyways.

Countermoves by cable-knit-sweater (cable_knit_sweater) (Evanstan RPF, CATFA | 11K | Explicit): Sebastian knows about Chris Evans, has to take his shot when he sees him. Chris doesn’t have a clue who Sebastian is, aside from being a pretty guy he meets in a club. The attraction is instant, and Sebastian takes Chris home, with a little detour or two. Chris thinks it’s just a one-night stand he’ll be thinking about for a long time, cursing himself for not getting the guy’s number. Until a couple of months later, he has the first table read for Captain America: The First Avenger, and he meets him again.

💙 Whip Crack by Quarra/ @quarra (Canon Divergent, Tentacle Monster Steve | 15/? | 119K | Explicit): Tentacle Monster Steve is captured by Hydra. They send in the Winter Soldier with a bull whip to break him, but as far as Steve’s concerned the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen walked in to his cell and started waving a sexy black tentacle at him. It’s love at first sight.

💙 hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) by buckyismybicycle/ @buckyismybicycle (NHL Hockey AU | 20/? | 63K | Explicit): Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong.

Re-Read

💙 Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark by deadonarrival (Modern AU with powers, Daddy kink | 89K | Explicit): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? 

Now! That’s What I Call 90’s Slow Jams by deadonarrival (Modern AU | 11K | Mature): Steve goes home for the wedding of Becca Barnes and while he’s there he runs into his old crush. Her brother. Except now they are both hot as shit. Oh no whatever will happen.

Brooklyn by togina/ @toli-a​ (Post-WS | 8,7K | Teen): "Captain America, what’s your stance on gay marriage?“ Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.